“Come on. Let’s check the Four-Zero.”“Bloodsuckers,” William Auten
As soon as the rusted lock clicks off and the barn doors open, more hot moisture billows around them. Matt pushes back his ballcap. Winches, tools, sawdust soaking oil spots, and fiberglass clippings litter the broken-up concrete floor. Water plops from the ceiling and slides off grease smeared on everything wood and metal. Several mosquitoes float like puppets on strings around the blue tarp covering the stockcar that Matt bought with a steady paycheck, hopeful that working on it would be a father-son project, which it was until the computer bug bit Ben.
“Bloodsuckers” is available for Patreon members for Father’ sDay.