Photo credit: erik-edgren on VisualHunt.com / CC BY
It was three hundred miles and a five-hour trip if they didn’t stop. Billy had been driving all night, and he was tired. He had worked a full day before heading home to pack, grab Atilla and meet Junior. Billy should not have been surprised when Junior said he hadn’t eaten all day. He said he was starving and needed to eat before they got on the road. Billy laughed since Junior never missed a meal. It was midnight before they were on their way out of town.
The sun was rising, and Billy yawned and rubbed his eyes. He turned onto the gravel road that led to the cabin. He rubbed his eyes again not sure if his eyes were blurry from lack of sleep or if it was mist floating over the half-melted snow and ice that coated the road.
His companions had been a little help with keeping him awake. Atilla curled in a ball in the back seat and fell asleep not long after they left. Junior rode shotgun his bulk smashed against the passenger door and window, the seatbelt cut across his chest and his mouth gaped open as he snored softly.
Billy nudged Junior in the ribs.
“Hey. Junior. Wake up.”
Junior smacked his lips and burrowed deeper into the corner.
“Junior wake up.”
“Wa?” Junior snorted, yawned and shifted in his seat. “Where are we?”
In the back seat, Atilla stretched and shook setting the tags on his collar jingling.
“Oh, good. It must be time for breakfast. I’m hungry.”
Atilla pushed his head into the front seat, sniffing at Junior and Billy.
“Junior, you’re always hungry.”
“I’m a growing boy. Gotta feed a growing boy.”
Atilla shoved his nose into Billy’s face and licked him.
Junior pet Atilla’s head. “Looks like Atilla’s hungry too.”
Billy stopped the truck in front of the cabin.
“Bring the bags in. There’s food in the cooler and the two boxes. It’ll be enough for the weekend.”
Billy opened his door and Atilla pushed and clawed his way over the top of Billy and shot out the door.
“Jez, Atilla. Can I get out of your way? You brute.”
“That dog thinks he’s a lot smaller than he is,” Junior laughed.
They both pulled bags from the bed of the truck and carried them into the cabin.
“What about the crates?” Junior asked.
“I’m exhausted. I need a few hours of sleep and no one’s gonna bother them. Atilla,” Billy’s voice dropped. “Atilla. Guard the truck.”
“So, you know where we’re gonna bury them?”
“Junior,” Billy scowled and walked toward the cabin.
“Tonight, Junior. Besides, I thought you were hungry.”
Junior stared at the two crates in the truck bed and scratched his head. Atilla started back at Junior, twisting his head to one side and growled. Junior hesitated then followed Billy into the cabin.
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer