Ch. 1 -- An Unforgettable Night Begins
GARY
As the owner and head bartender of the Shark and Seal, I've seen a lotta shit. I've seen stuff go down that would make the average person piss themselves. Now tonight just happened to be one of those nights.
From a mile away, I could see right away that they didn't belong. Everyone else could see it too. We never get tourists at the Shark and Seal, and most of my patrons (me included) prefer it that way.
Two couples had walked in. Both girls looked to be early to mid-20's, same with their beaus. Money oozed off of 'em, from their designer parkas to their glossy hair and brand name shoes.
Both girls came up to the bar, confident as you please.
"Hi. I'd like a sex on the beach," the older girl said.
"I'll have one too," the younger girl added, looking at me like I wasn't worth the dirt on the bottom of her left shoe.
I knew these girls -- knew their type, at least.
"Can I see your IDs?" Both bitches looked at me with outrage, like how dare I fucking ask them a simple question and do my job. They regarded me with a contempt that made my blood boil, but I kept my pleasant smile... for now. These two bimbos and their clueless boyfriends had no idea who they were dealing with. If they had, well, maybe they would have survived the night in one piece.
I looked at the first driver's license and glanced up to make sure it matched the owner. Jamie Reynolds, age 24. She had luxuriant, light brownish to blonde hair that streamed down to the small of her back, and her tits were big -- D cup or even DD cup.
Just as I'd suspected, the other girl was a few years younger, but she was legal too. Sara Reynolds, age 22. She was less voluptuous than her sister, more like a B cup or C cup at most. Slender and petite, the slut had hair as dark as a raven's feathers, and she kept it short. It barely reached her shoulders.
Both girls wore a skimpy tank top underneath their coats and below the waist they wore only tight-fitting black miniskirts... impractical as fuck given the cold temperatures outside. Then again, these were tourists we were talking about.
"Here you go," I handed the girls back their IDs, then had their beaus hand me theirs. I hardly registered the two pretty-boys. Both had that look of 'I just graduated college not that long ago and I think I'm the shit.' Arrogance came off of both men like the stink of rotting meat.
I bided my time, curious how long it would take these tourists to piss off the wrong people.
You see, my bar has one kind of clientele and one kind only: the brutal kind.
As an ex-con, I don't much care for what society thinks. I could give two shits. All I care about is this: I keep my watering hole well-stocked and my shotgun handy. If you don't bother me, well, then I won't bother you. That philosophy made for a good business plan this far out from civilization. You see, the Shark and Seal sits along a forgotten stretch of highway miles from any town in the frigid Alaskan wilderness. Yep, my hole-in-the-wall bar was the only sign of civilization in a 45-mile radius.
Most of my patrons were ex-cons like myself, extreme survivalists, conspiracy nuts living off the grid, or members of one of the two biker gangs that dominated the area.
Pretty-boys and tourists in general seldom darkened my bar's doorstep. And the ones who did? Usually they were smart enough to recognize that this wasn't their kind of place. The smart ones left before they could overstay their welcome.
But these four? Nope. I could tell. They weren't that bright. And I was going to push every damn button I could to see where it might lead.
While I pretended to make the drinks the two girls had ordered, I overheard some of their conversation.
"Baby, thanks for taking us here... even though this place is a total shithole," the blonde said to her beau with sarcasm. "You're the best fiancé ever!"
The dark-skinned pretty-boy smiled with his perfect, white teeth. "Oh shut up, Jamie. It's not that bad."
"You're right. It's worse," the younger bitch chimed in. She looked around the bar, then snuggled up beside her boyfriend. "Look at all these creeps. I bet half of them would marry their cousin at the drop of a hat, and the other half probably don't even know how to read. And Jamie and I are the only women even here."
Oh yeah, these cunts were definitely better than the rest of us. I could feel their elitism staining my bar like a splattering of engine oil.
"Look, at least we got out though, right?" the blonde said trying to muster up some enthusiasm. "I couldn't stand being cooped up in that hotel for one more night. This trip has been lame as hell," the blonde said to her younger sibling. In my mind I had already named them 'Big Tits' and 'Little Tits'. Not too original... but then again, when dealing with tourist scum, giving them considerate nicknames wasn't exactly the point.
I now placed four beers on the counter in front of the two couples.
The girls frowned and their pretty-boys scowled.
"They ordered a sex on the beach," protested the older boyfriend, the dark-skinned one. "You hard of hearing or something?"
I wiped at my bar with a dirty rag and gave him a polite go-fuck-yourself grin.
"We don't do fancy drinks here. We got beer, vodka, and whisky. No frills, no fruity flavors. That's it. Take it or leave it." I nodded at the quadruplet of beers -- better than what these stuck-up tourists deserved.
The fiancé looked like he was ready to make an issue of things, but then the blonde put a hand on his shoulder.
"Ricky, it's not worth it. I'll take the damn beer." She threw another look of contempt my way as if to say 'This redneck living in the frozen armpit of the world isn't worth my time.'
Just then, the door to the bar opened and a gust of freezing air stormed the wide-open bar. I saw seven, no, make that at least 13 bikers from the Frost Demons came stalking in. They were one of two biker gangs in the area. Lucky for me, my bar was considered neutral ground, and both groups knew to stick to that if they didn't want my shotgun pellets up their asses. I recognized Rex, the leader of the Frost Demons, right away. He came striding toward the front of my bar with a purpose.
Now I had a sudden feeling that something bad was about to happen. There was a glint of rage behind the man's eyes. You didn't piss Rex off -- not if you valued your own skin.
"Oh shit," the blonde said. I could tell she recognized him.
