At dawn’s twilight, the four men were laying low at the shack behind St. John Chyrsostom Church. The priest was doing his damndest to boil coffee by the fire out back. Moses retreated out of his prison uniform, now sporting a plain white t-shirt and a wrinkled pair of khakis. Hutch meanwhile still donned his black and white striped uniform, with the top pulled down and the arms twisted around his waste. The priest came in delighted with himself over the coffee and gave each man a tin mug. He happily splashed the brown sludge into each of their cups. “Gentlemen,” he said, “we should rest up for a few hours. But we gotta move fast. The Morehouse sheriff’s department is probably already pissing themselves.”
Moses protested. “I don’t know what y’all have planned but leave me out of it.”
“How long were you locked up in there for?” Hutch asked. “I was only there for two nights and I wanna kill every sonava bitch there!”
“Fuck that!” Moses barked.
Oren took his brother aside. They stepped out to the front. Out of earshot from the priest. Oren put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “Maybe he’s right,” he said. “Look, I have a car. We can just hop in it and get the hell outta here. There’s shit going on here that has nothing to do with us!”
“And go where?!” retorted Hutch. “Hell, I’m probably already a fugitive! I gotta clear my name!”
“But you’re gonna die! You’re going up against an entire police department! They have guns! We ain’t got shit!”
Hutch nodded. “Maybe you’re right. But what the hell happened in there? How did you get us out?”
“There is shit here that goes against god, Hutch. I’m tellin ya. We didn’t set the fire. A couple of really bad dudes did. They just blew the whole place right to shit. I think one was killed.”
“Did you guys kill him?”
“No. But the priest did shoot one of the deputies.”
“The fat one?”
“No. The other one.”
“Damn,” Hutch mourned. “That was a good dude.”
“I’m sorry but we got lucky this time. I doubt we will again.”
Hutch looked back into the shack and saw the Priest and Moses chatting over their shitty coffee. He reached back to scratch his head. “Alright,” he said. “Lemme think through this. I gotta go piss first.”
Hutch marched off out of view while Oren returned to the shack. When he arrived at a lone tree facing the road, he dropped his prison outfit lower and took out his member. He took a deep breath mid piss. Then a clicking sound was heard. He turned to his right to see Sheriff DuPont aiming his service pistol at him. “Pull up your trousers, son,” the lawman ordered.
TO BE CONTINUED…