Free Untraceable by S. R. Johannes

short order cook. I stare down at my stale turkey sandwich with mayo, a wilted salad, and a milkshake. Somehow, Mom’s forgotten her daughter is vegetable-resistant and lactose-intolerant.
    She’s lost it.
    Finally, we have something in common.
    I slide the drink away and nibble on the bread like a chipmunk. Scanning the room, I observe all the people stuffing themselves. Up at the buffet, people scoop all-they-can-eat onto a plate, determined to get their $6.99 worth. Dad loved the buffet here. Then again, he loved anything on sale.
    I soak in my surroundings and listen to the buzz around me. I study each person, noting peculiar things about them most people wouldn’t catch. The way they walk. The way they laugh. One lady slips on a smudge, and a man drops food on the floor then pretend he didn’t. It’s amazing what you see when everyone assumes no one is watching.
    At the end of the line, a large man scans the dessert selections and sticks his finger in the pudding to test it. Gross! He spins around and faces my direction. That when I notice him. The redneck from Tommy’s store. He lumbers toward me, balancing two overfilled plates. I slouch down in my seat, hoping he doesn’t notice me. Luckily, he slides into the booth in front of me. I sigh in relief but continue to spy on his reflection in the window.
    He chews his cud and talks at the same time. A drizzle of ketchup cakes both corners of his mouth as he stuffs in a double cheeseburger and a spoon full of mashed potatoes at the same time.
    A twiggy dude with a thin mustache, already eating in the booth, leans in and speaks with a lisp. “Think we gonna get close this time?”
    The redneck jams a few fries into his pie hole before he’s even swallowed the previous bite. He struggles to speak clearly. “Billy, I told yah already. All we gotta do is get us some donuts and corn. Maybe rub some honey on us. They’ll come beggin’.”
    Billy scoffs. “Aw, geez, Al. I just want to catch ’em, not date ’em.”
    Corn? Honey? Either these guys want to hunt bears, or they’re trying to be the next big hit on YouTube. Some people do whackadoo stuff just to get a kill. One guy even tried baiting a bear by holding marshmallows in his teeth. That didn’t go over so well with the bear or the guy’s face. Dad’s told me some crazy stories. A few sick ones too.
    Al whistles the song I still can’t place. He wipes his mouth on his t-shirt. “You ready?”
    Billy nods. “ Bear -ly.”
    Al cackles. “Ha! Good one.” I roll my eyes at how many times I’ve heard that joke up here.
    Billy stuffs some of the free bread and packets of crackers into his pockets. “Let’s get goin’ then. Catch us some you know what.”
    Al lowers his voice and smacks Billy upside the head. “Sshhhh.”
    Both of these guys are a donut short of a dozen. For one, this is not bear season. Two, unnaturally baiting bears in North Carolina is illegal. Any way you look at it, these guys are breaking the law. Big time.
    Whether they know it or not is the question.
    Al snorts. “No need to waste your last brain cell worryin’. We won’t get caught this time.”
    My ears perk up like a dog tuning into a high pitch. This time? I hold my breath for fear I’ll miss something important. My hands tremble under the table. There are only two people here who would bust these guys for illegal hunting.
    Les.
    Or Dad.
    Billy whispers with a slight lisp. “You sure?”
    Al hisses like a deflating tire. “Positive.”
    I slink down even further, praying they don’t see me as they stand to leave. After the two men pay and walk outside, I peek through the mini-blinds. They walk down Main Street and disappear into the back alley. As soon as they’re out of sight, I sprint out of the diner and bolt to the corner. Peering around the side, I watch them climb into a shiny green Dodge Ram with temporary tags.
    I hesitate for a second. Should I tell Les, or should I follow them and see where they go first?