Ashes by Steven Manchester

Author:Steven Manchester
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781945839009
Publisher: Fiction Studio Books
Published: 2017-02-21T05:00:00+00:00

chapter 9

II

Even with the option of returning to the motel for a free continental breakfast and the morning newspaper, Tom folded and agreed to go to Grains of Montana on Grand Avenue.

With Tom now at the helm, something in the hum of the early morning talk radio show caught Jason’s attention.

“It’s my Constitutional right to burn the American flag anytime I want,” the caller said.

“Oh, fuck you,” Jason said, turning the radio off. He looked at Tom. “I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to that shit.”

Tom nodded. “No worries,” he said. Three miles down the road, they arrived at the breakfast nook. The parking lot was packed.

“It must be really good here,” Jason said, his mood immediately changing to happy for the little joys in life. He jumped out of the SUV like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Easy, Big Boy,” Tom said, locking their father in the vehicle. “You don’t want to pull a hamstring before you get a shot at winning the pancake challenge.”

Smartass, Jason thought, laughing. “You’re a lot smarter than you look,” he said.

As they walked into the restaurant, Old Glory crackled and popped in the freezing wind, making both brothers look skyward and acknowledge the great symbol of freedom.

Jason shook his head. “Can you imagine all the knuckleheads in this country who actually think it’s okay to burn our flag?”

“Freedom of spee . . .” Tom started to say but stopped.

“I’d love to see just one flag-burning ceremony in progress,” Jason said, his chest aflame. “While they invoked their freedom of speech, I’d be doing the same.”

“And giving someone a pummeling, right?”

“Unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” Jason said. “These stupid kids have no idea about the thousands and thousands of heroes who had to die for that flag to fly.” He grinned. “The least I could do is honor their memories by handing out a good, old-fashioned ass whoopin’.”

“That’s one way to deal with it, I guess,” Tom said.

“Do you have a better way?” Jason asked, thinking, I can’t wait to hear this one.

Tom smiled. “Nope. I don’t,” he said, not hesitating with his answer.

Grains of Montana was a bustling place, waitresses darting around, slinging hash. There was a buzz of separate conversations taking place all over the restaurant, while the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes filled the air. Ahhh, Jason thought, inhaling deeply, we’ve made it to the Promised Land.

When ordering, Jason leaned in to the waitress, as if he were about to share a secret. “Poor guy,” he whispered, gesturing toward Tom with a jerk of his head. “Tom and I just got back from a long ride to Sterling.”

“On your bikes?” she asked, still writing in her pad.

He nodded. “It was a rough trip. Tom hit some sand and totaled his moped. I went down right behind him and cracked my bug shield. And that’s when it happened.” He stopped long enough to put on his most frightened face. “We started getting slapped around by some Harley guys.” He shook his head dramatically.

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