Suspense, Mystery, Horror and Thriller Fiction - Suspense Magazine

She glanced sideways at him and said, “Okay, that’sweird, Roy.”It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “You took your morningbreak at nine ten until nine twenty, shorting yourself fiveminutes.”Ever since they’d first met in high school, Michelle hadknown he was a bit off. She had felt sorry for him and he’dhad a crush on her. Maybe that’s why they became quickfriends. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonderedif he’d ever truly outgrown that schoolboy crush. But afteralmost fifteen years of deflecting his advances, she hoped hehad moved on and was only an attentive friend. His accountof her every move didn’t give her confidence in that assumption.“You took a lunch break from eleven thirty-five to noon,again shorting yourself five minutes. You ate your lunchwhile reading a book, probably a mystery,” Roy recited mechanically,handing can after can of fruits and vegetables toMichelle to shelve.“Stop!” Michelle felt her breath catch as she realized RoyBarker was not kidding.Her mind flashed to all the times in recent months whenshe and Jens had seen Roy around town when they wentout. He just happened by their table at the Millstone, hintingthat he should join them for brunch. And they caught aglimpse of him at Canyon Lake Park when they were feedingthe ducks, as though he’d stood watching them beforehe jogged away on the bike path. Maybe Jens had been rightabout Roy’s obsession with her, Michelle thought.“You took a ten-minute afternoon break at four fifteenand haven’t taken a break since. You expertly averted the advancesof that wannabe biker dude shortly after, even thoughhe was putting a full-court press on you to become his lady.”“His lady?” Michelle shot back, disturbed that his creepymania was spiraling out of control. “Roy, what are you talkingabout?”Just as her mind raced to find an excuse to end this conversation,Michelle saw Roy’s eyes narrow as he stared pasther shoulder and down the aisle. She turned slowly to seewhat had distracted him from his bizarre fixation on the minutiaeof her life.Three bikers were walking toward them. These were motorcycleclub bikers, the real deal, the kind who were knownfor illegal activities like selling drugs. The outlaw bikers whooften started trouble—mostly with other such bikers, buttrouble nonetheless. The police watched them closely duringthe rally; authorities by the hundreds were flown in from allover the country for the week. And because Jens had pointedit out to her last year, Michelle knew what it meant to be flyingcolors, and that the authorities generally prohibited it duringthe rally to help prevent knife fights and shootings. Thesethree bikers, however, were most definitely flying their colors.The well-worn black leather jackets were decorated withpatches and badges, and the skinny biker on the right waswearing a red and silver skullcap with the Lucifer’s Lot logostitched neatly across the front. The scary-looking guy in themiddle was staring directly at her.The Lucifer’s Lot was one of the motorcycle gangs thatwere banned now and again from crossing South Dakotastate lines because of the trouble they caused with the InfernoForce. Michelle had read about them in the newspapers yearsago and tried to recall niggling details about a gunfight orambush that involved the two gangs near Stockade Lake inCuster State Park. A drug deal gone wrong or something.Roy stepped between Michelle and the men to shield herwhile she scuttled to her feet. Watching Roy draw in air to inflatehis chest, Michelle thought he looked more like a pufferfish than the friend she’d known for so long and wonderedwhy she had been loyal to him all these years.She barely recognized his tone when he barked, “What doyou want?”The scary biker in the middle, who wore a black-andgrayponytail and a black mustache, ignored Roy’s question,never taking his eyes off Michelle. With a velvet Trace Adkinsvoice, he said, “Excuse me, ma’am. Can you help us find a fewthings?”“Sure,” Michelle said, relieved by the interruption. Shedefinitely preferred a hardcore biker’s attentions to Roy’sdisturbing interest in her at that moment.“Michelle, no,” Roy said, grabbing her elbow as shestepped around him.The two bikers flanking the ominous one growled liketwo guard dogs. Michelle turned to Roy, removing his handfrom her arm, and whispered, “It’s okay. Really. They justwant a little help finding things.”Roy scowled.Michelle turned toward the bikers. “The customer’s alwaysright, Roy.”“My name’s Mully,” the biker said, cutting his eyes at Royand walking alongside Michelle down the aisle, the two otherbikers falling in behind them. She could almost feel Roy’sglare burning a hole through her as she turned the cornerwith the strangers. She imagined his disappointment thatshe didn’t wither or faint from the fear of it all, allowing him4 Suspense Magazine July 2011 / Vol. 024