Helltown by Jeremy Bates

checkered lumberjack jackets emerged from the gloom of the night into the firelight produced by the burning BMW. Mandy gasped silently in surprise and horror. The slim one in the middle sported stringy black hair, bushy muttonchops, and a handlebar mustache. Despite skin the color and texture of old vellum, and a hooked beak for a nose, he appeared normal enough. The other two, however, might have just escaped from a carny sideshow. The freak on the left had a round moon face, piggish eyes, stood close to seven feet tall, and must have weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of four hundred pounds. The freak on the right had misshapen features covered by a jigsaw of wormy white scars and a vacant expression, as though his brains were nothing but mush.
    Mandy forced herself not to stare and focused on the middle one, who was visoring his eyes with his hand while he studied the flaming vehicle.
    “Good Lord almighty, will ya look at that,” he crowed.
    “We had an accident,” Austin said.
    “No fooling,” he said. “Anyone hurt?” His eyes fell on Jeff. “Aw, shit. He ain’t dead, is he?”
    “No!” Mandy said, shocked by the man’s blunt manner.
    He looked at her. His eyes were dark, unreadable. They appraised her from head to toe and lingered on her breasts. “Well, now,” he drawled, “that’s quite an outfit you got on, ma’am.”
    “It’s a Halloween costume.”
    “I reckoned as much. And a good choice at that.” He turned his attention to Austin. “How about you, Cueball? No costume?”
    Austin twitched at the insult. “I took it off.”
    “And you, little lady?”
    “I didn’t bring one,” Cherry said quietly.
    “All Hallows’ Eve, my favorite night of the year, when all the ghoulies come out to play, ain’t that right?” He grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. “Anywho, the name’s Cleavon. What can I do to help y’all?”
    “Our friends have already left to get help,” Mandy said. “They’ll be back any minute,” she added purposefully.
    “Any minute you say?” Cleavon said to her. “When did they leave?”
    “Forty minutes ago,” Mandy lied.
    “Forty minutes, huh?”
    She nodded.
    “And they ain’t back already? Shit, maybe they got lost?”
    “Do you live out here?” Austin asked him.
    “Over yonder, in fact.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder.
    “And you wander the woods at night?”
    Ignoring the question, Clevon took a few steps toward the BMW and said, “Well knock me down and steal my teeth. It’s a genuine Bimmer, boys! Or was , I should say. So you some uppity rich kids, that right? Where you from?”
    “New York,” Austin said.
    “The Big Apple! Never been there myself. Always wanted to go, but don’t reckon I’d fit in too good. I’m ’bout as country as a baked bean sandwich. Ain’t that right, boys?”
    The four-hundred-pound freak nodded. “Right-o, Cleave.”
    “My apologies,” Cleavon said. “That there’s me brother Earl. And that’s me other brother, Floyd. Floyd don’t say much. He only got two speeds: slow and stop. And he don’t hear too good neither unless you shout.” He raised his voice. “Ain’t that right, Floyd?”
    Floyd nodded.
    “Well?” Cleavon said, smiling expectantly at them.
    “Well what?” Austin said.
    “Ain’t you gonna introduce yourselves?”
    Mandy glanced at Austin and Cherry. She saw her fear reflected in their eyes. Cleavon and his brothers were not just assholes; they were dangerous. But there didn’t seem to be any choice other than to keep Cleavon talking until Steve and Noah returned with help.
    “I’m Mandy,” she said.
    “Mandy,” Cleavon repeated. “That’s short for Amanda, ain’t it?”
    She nodded.
    “I like it. Mandy. Suits you.” His eyes floated to her breasts.
    “I’m Austin,” Austin said. “And this is Cherry.”
    “Austin and Cherry—now those are a coupla fine names as well. Had an uncle named Austin. Sat on the porch all day drinking hooch, his own