Song of the Sand Demons- Chapter 2

         Thomas Nightwing kicked up his dusty boot, landing it easily on top of the worn desk. He shared the small building on the end of Main Street with Greg Spence, both long time residents of this one horse town. Tom had ventured out here about ten years ago; he was originally from the great state of South Dakota. Greg had been here a bit longer, he too another transplant from the Tohono O'odham reservation just past Tuscon. Both were Indians clear as day, two different tribes, Tom's being the northern one of the Lakota people, and Greg of the present day Papago's of the southwest.

         The newspaper made that crackling sound as he folded another page back, trying desperately to make that crease that never wanted to go just right in it so you could read it and hold it at the same time. His dark brown eye's framed with lashes of black scanned over the entertainment page.
"Not much entertainment going on this weekend it seems" of course, he said that every Thursday afternoon, because not much happened in the one block long town of Tapahe, Arizona.

         Another crackle and crisp crimp of paper, another page is turned, and the same eyes scan over the next page with little enthusiasm. Then he stopped.
"What the....."
He read on, within a few seconds of going over the tiny article not more than an inch and a half long, he had seen it again. A week ago there was another small mention of a group of sheep found, slaughtered by what most just chalked up as another coyote hunt and passed it off as just that. This time, the article covering twelve sheep found dead, mauled, and discarded up on the Chocolate mountain pass section of the Gila Bend National Park area did indeed catch his attention. Tom and Greg both worked in the little office at the end of Main street in Tapahe, Arizona for the past ten years at least, and were the only two rangers in the area that patrolled this section of the Gila Bend area of the park. Chocolate mountain pass was just another small out of the way pass sitting in the vast section of pretty much nowhere. Why were these sheep there? It made no sense to him. The closest reservation lands bordered on the south side of the park boundaries, and there were no sheep farmers in that area at all.

"This is just interesting as hell now, twice? who or what is out there doing this? A prank?"

         There had been pranks before, local kids usually, nothing major or some bored tourist setting off fire crackers to scare the local wildlife into an area they would not normally be in. He knew that as soon as Greg returned from his usual daily lunch run down to the only good restaurant in a good hundred mile radius, he would have to mention this to him.

          Every day at noon like clockwork Greg was down at the greasy spoon well known for their thick juicy cheeseburgers and crispy steak fries, at the special of the day price. Elaine's Restaurant and Grille. Her husband Loren, who had passed on some years back had been a collector of oddities of long past, a sort of treasure hunter of his own. They had both started up the small diner right after they were married. He had decorated it with old railroad lanterns, old wagon wheels, a few arrow heads and antiques of all sorts that he picked up over the years. Elaine herself did most of all the cooking, and sewed her own curtains of gingham checks, table cloths to match, whatever new curtains she decided would look good, and put new ones up regularly. She liked change. Now at the age of 72, the diner was her own world of change and all she had left in the world since Loren passed away. She missed Loren. He had been her constant companion ever since she could remember. Their marriage had lasted fifty years before he died suddenly, she had never been the same since. Older, but still held that regal beauty she once shined with as a young woman, she would never part with the restaurant, even with the several offers she had gotten to sell out. It was her world, and who would be able to come in for the occasional local talk over a piece of her home baked delicious pies? It was a world of her own outside of the Wednesday night bingo game down at the American Legion hall, behind the one and only laundromat at the opposite end of the dot of a town.

~~~

         Greg sat in his usual corner stool at the counter, waiting for his order to come up. He always got the same thing for lunch, there was no change in his life. Holding the fork in his hand he picked away at the slice of banana cream pie before him, and as always, an iced-down root beer leaving its perfect glass water circles above his pie plate. Tom on the other hand, always ordered something different. Greg figured he did it on purpose just to see if he would remember it right, then catch him bringing a food order mistake into light, and play on it the rest of the day, only to irritate him even more.

         Greg was more or a loner type, he didn't talk much, but when the occasional passerby did stop for a friendly hello, he kept his defenses up, and his mood went from bad to worse if he caught their eyes diverted to his now slight pot belly, spare tire created from his growing habit of the nightly beer and pretzels he downed while watching any Basketball game he could find on TV.

         He did not have a wife, girlfriend, or any romantic affairs going on in his life. Not any more. His wife had left him almost three years ago. She claimed it was due to her growing lack of interest in him, and boredom of the town in general. Kate claimed she wanted a real life, and this just wasn't it. Greg had always held in his own hostilities toward her and just the fact that she had left him, made him feel rejected and even more insecure. He had been insecure before, and Kate was his security blanket. His life had not been an easy one, but, to him, he always thought of himself as a survivor. Now he wasn't too sure about even that idea. Between his growing love for alcohol, beer mostly, and his visits to the 'Little Panther Club' which was the only club outside of the town that catered to men seeking an over priced look at a few topless dancer's and higher drink price's than at the small local bar in town, known as 'The Black Sheep Tavern'.

         Greg now scraped up the rest of his pie while he waited on Elaine to finish up the lunch order, and nudged the plate forward to focus on his root beer now. This wouldn't take long to drain down, seeing how hot it was getting outside, and the air conditioning in the restaurant was not really making him feel any comfort at all. He took a rather large gulp of the iced-down drink and heard the rattle of the crisp brown bags being brought over.
"Here you go Greg" Elaine brought a smile with the order. He knew she would. It was just her way. A content woman in her work, and he wished he could say the same for himself.

"Thanks, how much do I owe you?"

         He dug in his wallet, now getting low on cash, he knew he had to save some for later. He always had to have his beer at night, or there would be little sleep to come later.

"$7.50 Hon"

         She always had that sweet smile on her face, no matter what she said, and he nodded, producing a ten dollar bill.
"Keep the change Elaine, and thanks for the free piece of pie". He too exchanged a small grin with her, she was the first person he had met upon coming to this dust bowl of a town, and he already felt like a piece of the sand that stuck to the side of the small adobe building. She went to ring it up and he watched as she stuck the change in her apron pocket while he took the last drink left of his root beer and set the glass back onto the slightly raised water rings on the counter. He then got to his feet and turned, making his way out back into the noon heat. He heard her call out as he stepped outside.

"Have a nice day!"


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