Launa/Dixie Collaboration #7: Things heat up again or, who's that dweeb in the driveway?

This is the continuing saga of Launa and her adventures. In our last episode, Launa made Dixie's nightmares go away and things are calm at the farmhouse. Not for long, though!

This is part seven of a Tuesday WE collaborative effort between Barb Carlson and Donna F. Below is a listing of just the collaborative stories. See Launa's index for all of Launa's background and stories (and to learn why she turned up at the farmhouse bleeding.)

Part 1,Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Donna and I both have an index article listing all the tales of Launa and Dixie, so if you have missed the back story of either, please go check them out.
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"Hey, Scat! You're never gonna guess what I saw in town today!" Skip wiped his greasy hands on his cheap Walmart undershirt and plopped down at the kitchen table. He tapped his grease-stained fingers on the Formica table. 

"Dammit it, Skip, don't call me that! I ain't been Scat since I was 12," Chris said. He whacked Skip on the side of the head with his open hand, and plucked a toothpick from the jar on the counter. He turned on the small black and white TV next to the toothpicks and sat in the other chair, his back to his cousin.

"Ow!" Skip rubbed his head. "That hurt!"

"Then shut up. I'm trying to watch TV." Chris picked at his teeth and watched the buxom blond turn letters.

"Hoo-ee! She sure was something!" Skip said with a leer. "You'd a liked to see her, let me tell you!" Skip continued drumming on the table and started bouncing his right knee. "Yessir, she was a looker. Those jeans she had on! One more coat of paint over that fine ass and it would have been covered. And the bazooms on her! Yowza!"

"Shut up." Chris tossed the toothpick at the open trash can and missed.

"And she sure did wiggle when she walked. She was real different from that mousy little thing she was with." Skip slapped his hand on his knee. "Damn! She was fine. Her name was Dixie, too! I wouldn't mind whistling Dixie for a while." He made some lewd noises. "That little Tia might be fun, too."

Still watching TV, Chris said, "Tia? What did she look like?"

"Oh, mousy brown hair, kinda skinny, come up to my chin, maybe. Why?"

"Tim's sister is named Tia," Chris shrugged. "No one else with them?"

"Nope," Skip said. "Just that hot piece, Dixie." He grinned. "What do you think they were doing down in Gardenville? She didn't look like anyone's grandma." Skip cackled. "They were in the General Store, buying a t-shirt for someone named, Launa, like that blond you're watching."

Chris sat up straight in the chair. "Did you say, Launa?"

"Yup," Skip said. "The one asked the other if they thought it would fit someone named Launa." He stopped drumming as Chris turned to look at him. "Why?"

"Why?" Chris said as he put his hands on the table and leaned over at Skip. "Why? 'Cause that's the name of the bitch who sicced the heat after us! That's why!" He slapped Skip on the head again. "You're so stupid." Chris pushed the chair out of the way and paced. "Did they say where they were going?"

"Well," Skip said slowly, "I think Dixie said something about a farmhouse." He scratched his head. "And something about barely having enough gas to get to town, so it must have been close." He eyed his cousin for signs of another slap.

"Well, Skip, I need to find those women," Chris said, turning abruptly.

Skip flinched, but when Chris didn't hit him again, he said, "Well, I could take you there, Scat! That has to be old man Talbot's farmhouse. He's been dead a while, but word is someone takes care of the place."

Chris slapped his cousin on the face, hard. "I'm going to rip your throat out if you don't stop calling me that stupid name." He grabbed Skip by the shirt and pulled him up out of the chair. "Do you get me?"

"Sorry! Sorry, uh... Chris. Really!" Skip wrestled loose from Chris's grip. "Look, I can take you up there, right now if you want, okay?"

Chris' lips curled in an evil grin, "Yeah, you can do that. I'll take care of Tia and Launa, and you can play with your little looker."

Skip giggled and bounced and started whistling "Dixie."

"Shut up and go get the car," Chris said, returning to his chair.

Skip did as he was told. He'd had enough of being smacked for one day.

* * *  

Dixie was glad she'd changed into running clothes and sneakers before heading off down the drive, power walking at a frantic pace. I haven't felt this invigorated in years, she thought. After several miles of walking, she found herself winded and starting to feel the effects of the intense exercise, which she had not done in several weeks.

Spying a a fallen tree in the woods, she sat, breathing deeply of the musty green foliage which surrounded her. What should I do next? Her thoughts took flight, imagining scenarios branching from each possible decision she could make. One thing was certain, she was going to investigate the possibility of buying this property. After all, Uncle David was family. She smiled to herself, thinking that after all those years of being disenfranchised from her family, she had come to this crossroads of wanting nothing more than buying her uncle's farm. After that, everything else might just fall into place, or she hoped it would. Baby steps, just take baby steps and it will be all right.

She decided to walk back to the farmhouse through the lush woods that surrounded it. She loved the heady aroma of pine, oak, and fallen leaves.

Meandering slowly through the woods, she caught sight of an odd shade of green out of the corner of her eye. There is nothing natural about that color, she decided, and walked closer to investigate.

About a quarter mile from where she first noticed the green thing that did not belong in the forest, she realized it was a car -- a '72 Grand Torino, in a color she had always thought of as "baby puke green." She realized upon closer inspection that she had seen this car before, outsde the market where she and Tia had shopped earlier in the day.

She had to admit, it was a beauty, and as the kids say, "tricked out." Oversized speakers filled the back seat, custom rims adorned the wheels and the steering wheel was made of chrome chain links.

It was then she noticed the black bandana lying on the front seat. Bandanas are a gang symbol, she thought, and in that instant, it hit her.

Oh God!, Oh God!, Oh God! she thought, running full tilt toward the house. Launa...Gang...Robbery...Shot...Raped...Stabbed...

She was out of breath and sweating profusely by the time the farmhouse came into view. She could see Tia opening the door and in the driveway were two men, one holding a pistol.

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Next part: Part 8