Free The Deadsong by Brandon Hardy

Jared with this very special gift.
    Blood brothers. Why didn’t I think of that before? Ellis felt like celebrating. Call up the friends and neighbors, honey, I’m getting out of the family business.
    He liked Jared. Loved him like a son. But Duke was his son. And no other option existed even in the realm of speculative fantasy. This was not only his ticket out, but Duke’s pardon––his saving grace. His son, his blood wrapped with flesh that favored his own more and more as each day passed, would be free. Free to have a life and pursue any vocation he damn well pleased. Duke wanted to play professional football, and glory to all that is holy if he did it, but the outcome was solely dependent on Jared’s ability to learn. And sing.
    If Ellis passed the torch to another and became free of this nasty curse, his family name would no longer be stained with the blood of thousands. But he had broken the rules, and when you break the rules, the boss comes by to let you know it.
    The boss was would be coming to town. Ellis knew he wouldn’t get walking papers––he’d receive due punishment.
     
    12
    Garret Eucher looked up at the marquee and walked to the ticket booth. “One for the four-thirty show.” A dainty hand with pink nails took his five bucks and slid him a ticket.
    He didn’t come here often, but now that Dylan had gotten hired on, he could enjoy all the free movies he wanted. He strolled in and whiffed gloriously at the smell of fresh popcorn. He still had four dollars in his pocket and could afford a bucket––loaded down with that butter-flavored syrup, of course––along with a box of Milkduds or perhaps some chocolate-covered cookie bites. Instead, he selected a pretzel from the rotisserie and a small root beer from the fountain. Dylan was rocking on his heels by the double doors that led into Screen 1, which was the only screen in the place and Garrett couldn’t understand why it had to have a number.
    “Hey there, Stark. Tear my ticket like a good little usher. Nice tie, by the way.”
    “I know, right?” Dylan straightened it with dignity. He took Garrett’s ticket, tore away the stub from the perforation, and handed it to him.
    “Make sure you hold onto that. I’d hate to kick you out for not having your stub.”
    Garrett faked a jab at Dylan’s gut and slapped him on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work. If the sound’s out of  sync with the picture, you better fix it fast or I’ll write up a complain card.”
    “Enjoy the movie, sir.” Dylan opened the door for him.
    “Sir, huh? I can get use to this,” Garrett said and disappeared into the darkened theatre.
    A man wearing a blue button-down shirt and slacks approached him with his ticket held out. Dylan took it.
    “How are you doing today, sir?”
    “Very well, thank you,” the man said, taking his stub. “You live around here?”
    “Born and raised. You from out of town?”
    “Is it that obvious?” The man looked himself over self-consciously.
    “Everybody knows everybody around here. Pretty much, anyway.”
    “Then maybe you could help me out. I’m here on business. You could say I’m checking into the snake problem.”
    Dylan broke character and felt blood swelling in his cheeks. “Is that right?”
    “Yeah, I’m hoping to get some background from some of the locals. I’ve  been trolling through the archives, but I have a feeling I’ll have better luck hearing things first hand.”
    “Maybe you should try Avery’s. Lots of old-timers hanging around who’d love to tell you more stories than you’d care to hear.”
    “I’ll do that,” The man said and offered his hand. “I’m Alan Blair.”
    Dylan gripped it and pumped. “Dylan Starkweather.”
    “Nice to meet you, Dylan. What about you? What can you tell me about what’s been going on here?”
    “Well, sir, I’m––”
    “Please, no ‘sir’. I can’t be more than five years older than you.”
    “Alan, you probably know more than I do.