The Jolly Roger Diner

Chapter One

Pfffssssttt...went the airbrake on the 18-wheeled tractor-trailer truck as it pulled to a stop beside the Jolly Roger Diner. It was getting close to midnight on a Friday night and the parking lot was jammed pack. Bubba opened his door, grabbed the handle, and stepped down from the truck. Just as his feet settled on the gravel, two shots rang out from behind him. He turned to look and saw a red pick-up truck leaving the parking lot like someone had lit it on fire. That's when he heard the faint cries of a woman.

Bubba ran towards her wondering what on earth he was getting himself into. He stopped about where he had seen the red pick-up speeding away and he saw a nearly naked woman laying on the ground. She had been shot, once in the leg and once in the chest. Bubba removed his jacket and covered her and then knelt beside her. Removing his belt, he used it as a tourniquet to help stop the bleeding from her leg. He saw her blouse laying beside her and used that to apply direct pressure to her chest wound.

She was fading fast and he knew if help didn't arrive soon, she wasn't going to make it. A couple of other people had arrived to help and he sent one of them back inside the diner to call for an ambulance. The year was 1979 and cellphones didn't exist yet. Bubba asked her what her name was and she said "Rosa or Rose". He wasn't too sure. After spending too many years in the Marines in the South Pacific followed by even more years driving a big truck, his ears weren't like they were when he was a young man.

The police were the first to arrive followed by the paramedics a few minutes later. Rosa or Rose was still alive but barely. They didn't waste any time in getting her stable and en route to the hospital. The police interviewed Bubba and released him. He went inside the diner to grab a meal and a cup of coffee before getting a room at the motel next door. He had laid down on the bed and was turning off the lamp when there was a knock at the door.

Bubba's not a spring chicken and he's been in and out of motels, especially the Jolly Roger, to know that you don't answer knocks at the door, even if it's the middle of the day and you're expecting guests. It's just something you don't do if you want to live. Bubba didn't move. He didn't turn off the lamp and he slowed his breathing so he could improve his hearing. Nothing. Not a sound. He estimated he stayed in that position for at least 10 minutes and was beginning to think they had left when the knock came again. This time the knock was a little more forceful.

Bubba rolled out of the bed and onto the floor. A move he immediately regretted because the carpet was damp and sticky. He crawled over to the window and peeked outside without disturbing the curtains. There was a red pick-up truck parked in front of his room and there were two men standing in front of his door. One was holding a shotgun and it was pointed at the center of the door. Bubba reached into his duffle bag on the chair by the door and removed his own shotgun, a 12 gauge double barrel with both barrels sawed off to 18". He had no idea what the guys on the other side of the door wanted, but he knew his shotgun was loaded with OO shot and he carried a .45 caliber 1911 handgun in his waistband too.

Bubba rolled over so he was laying on the floor in front of the door and he pointed his shotgun so if he fired it, he would strike them in the knees. Taking a deep breath, Bubba said in a loud voice, "Who is it?" Almost immediately, the guy outside the door with the shotgun fired, and almost in unison, Bubba fired his twice, striking both of the guys in their knees. The guy who shot first completely missed Bubba. He had been aiming to strike Bubba in the chest but Bubba was laying on the floor. The two guys fell to the sidewalk screaming in pain.

Bubba stepped outside carrying his duffle bag. He looked down at both and asked them if they wanted to tell him why they wanted to shoot him. The man who actually pulled the trigger shouted a few epitaphs at him in between screams of agony. Bubba shook his head and said, "I suppose not." Then he pulled his 45 from his waistband and shot the man between the eyes. The other man was now trying his best to crawl away from Bubba. "How about you? Anything you want to add?" The man shouted, "Rosa sent us."

Bubba replied, "The woman from earlier? The woman with two gunshots? That Rosa?" The man shook his head up and down to say yes. Bubba asked, "Where is she now?" The man said, "I don't know. I think she's still in the hospital." "Last question brother. Why me?" asked Bubba. The man said, "Because you saw her face and know her name." Bubba thought about everything for a second, then shot this man between the eyes too. As he walked off towards his rig, he mumbled to himself, "Too bad."