Blood Mates

Donny's Luck Runs Out

Donny ran through an alley and jumped over a fence. Landing on the pavement hard, Donny felt it crumble under him, but just kept running. As he took a sharp left, he ducked into a well-hidden bar that barely saw life at this time of day.

Listening as the person chasing him vanished, Donny looked up as the bartender stared at him warily. “I heard you were dead.”

Donny looked at Elijah Griffith, the owner of the shady watery hole, and smirked, “Handsome doesn’t die that easy. Can I get a scotch? I have to hole up here for a while.” Elijah served up the drink and asked casually, “You hungry kid? No shade intended, but you look like death walking.”

Donny laughed at the unintended pun, “Sure.” After dishing up a huge burger and fries with a huge cold beer in a frosted mug, Donny for the first time since turning relaxed.

Elijah didn’t ask him questions or pry into how he came back. And while Donny thought it odd, deduced the deceptively younger looking man, had seen weirder. He’d lived his forty something years in Devil’s Horns.

And the tall black man didn’t seem even slightly rattled that a supposedly dead teenager was now at his bar.

Instead he seemed just as at ease as he made himself a drink and flopped down on a stool, “So you wanna tell me why everyone thinks you’re dead?” Donny shrugged, “For a time I was, but then someone brought me back.”

Elijah c****d an eyebrow, “And of all the people they could bring back, why chose the dead son of a mayor in a small ass little town?” Donny took another hearty gulp of his beer before admitting, “To further their agenda. But I have my own,”

Sighing Elijah shook his head, “You’re an interesting kid Don.” Donny grinned as he looked Elijah over, not a hint of fear or worry showed in his aura. Just a calming sureness he’d mastered with bartending.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” Elijah looked up at Donny’s question, “Ask what?” He grunted.  Shrugging, Donny waved to himself, “What I am? You have to be curious as to how I’m here right now.” Elijah laughed a little, “Son, I’ve lived long enough to know when I don’t want to know the answer to something. I think I’ll stay my ass out of this one.”

Donny laughed as he goaded, “Isn’t it a bartender’s job to get people drunk and cry out all their problems?” Elijah snorted, “Drunk? Yes. Getting them to cry about their problems? Occupational hazard.”

Laughing even more, Donny watched Elijah snag a fry from his plate before saying, “I guess I took more extra courses at bartender school. I have my masters in “Minding My Own Damn Business”.” Donny raised his mug, “Well here’s to that.”

Over the next hour, only one or two stragglers came in. And none of them were here to make friends or pay attention to the teenager at the bar. Instead they stared straight ahead as they got lost in booze and their own problems. So much so they didn’t even notice the dead kid beside them at the bar.

Donny started to leave when the bar started to feel up with a little crowd who did pay attention to who was around. But after requesting one last beer before he hit the road, Donny slammed it back hard, left money on the bar for Elijah and started out.

Donny was walking down the street and felt warm from the alcohol he’d consumed. And while he knew his limit and he hadn’t drunk past it, Donny felt he had. Feeling nauseous suddenly, Donny stumbled as he heard a sharp ring in his head.

Groaning, Donny struggled to keep moving, but his mouth began to foam with a purplish tint. He looked around blurry eyed as a figure he couldn’t make out began to approach him.

Donny would have fought, but as he was suddenly on the ground hugging concrete. Someone stood over him and Donny couldn’t even see who before the world went dark.