Charlie opened the spring-loaded screen door. Cynthia’s was at full capacity for lunch today. The country store was uneven and rustic. Several of the original floorboards were warped and contorted. The shelves, populated with chips, bread, nuts, and candy were also original. They’d clearly been sanded and repainted any number of times. A single cooler buzzed in the far corner of the room. It was mostly filled with beer, but it also had some water, juice, and milk. On the bottom shelf, almost hidden, two packs of bacon sat under a single carton of eggs.

The back wall was lined with old road signs and old farm signs and other nick-knacks that all these old places loved. A deli counter was directly adjacent that wall. Various bits of ham and beef and chicken sat in bowls on top of bits of ice. In the corner there was a single table with 10 chairs. Those were currently occupied by seven farmers having a hushed, animated conversation.

Charlie nervously wondered if lunch was already done, if the others had eaten it all again. “Charlie, honey!” A raspy, feminine voice said from behind the counter.

Aunt Rachael ran the place for as long as Charlie could remember. He’d eaten her mac and cheese for as long as he could remember. His parents would take him there when he was young, at least six, sit him at that table, and talk with Aunt Rachael for hours. Sometimes they’d just talk about the weather, the hay harvest, or whatever else was popular in town. She was the closest thing he had to living family. He was Twenty now and nothing had changed. He still felt compelled to come here and eat Mac N Cheese every Saturday.

She popped up from behind the counter and wiped her hands on her apron. Brushing a strand of sweaty, wilted, grey hair she breathlessly said, “Here for lunch honey?” Aunt Rachael was a shadow of herself. Where she’d been rotund and stocky in Charlie’s childhood, she’d withered away to just about nothing. A brief bout with breast cancer took away her weight. The cigarettes and gin took the rest. Now she stood just over five foot and her wrinkled face was marred with so many ageing scars it was difficult to parse

Charlie cleared his throat and cast a glance at the farmers chatting at the table, “Uh yeah, realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Starving.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

“All right, doncha worry, I saved some uh my Mac ‘n’ cheese for ya. Also managed to sneak away a roast beef sandwich, I know that’s your favorite,” she said, winking. “Can’t have our boy here going hungry just before his big day!”

Charlie forced a smile and blinked away the tears from his eyes. “Thank you, Aunt Rachael, I uh… I really appreciate it.”

“Aw, hell it ain’t nothing sweetie, I know your parents would just be so proud of you, especially come tomorrow. Lemme go make up yer food for ya.”

Charlie nodded and smiled. “Can I grab a soda too?” He asked? When she nodded he moved over to the single fridge, put his left hand in his pocket and selected a bottle of Coca-Cola.

               He moved to an isolated corner just behind a table where several farmers were taking their afternoon break. Five or six of the men, whose dusted overalls and shit covered boots reeked of manual labor, had taken a seat at the only table in the store. One man at the center had a shaded magnetism about him. His yellow age-stained beard hung from a ragged face wrinkled from years snarling at the sun. Ice blue eyes seemed to glow beneath a heavy and shaded brow. His thick and crusted hands were folded in front of him, as if he were holding court. That was Jack Harlow, Burburry royalty. He was man who owned most of the land within and surrounding the tiny mountain town. Most of the farmers at the table only operated with his blessing.

               Another, a farmer by the name of Thomas  was in the middle of telling a story, “Yep, I hate them fuckin’ dogs. One day, oh…” he frowned and crossed his arms, “six or seven years ago, I was bringin’ some fuel over to some outtta-stater. Y’know the type, got too much money and always wanna tell us what we oughta do.” He crossed his wiry arms and tiny frame as murmurs of agreement echoed around the table, “Well anyway, one day I was drivin’ up the road and this fuckin’ mutt comes runnin’ out from the house. Fuckin’ thing was yippin’ and barkin’ and bitin’ at my tires.” He then turned to make eye contact with Charlie, as if he’d seen him for the first time, “An’ that dog jes kept yippin’. Even when I pulled up to the tank and started puttin’ in the fuel. That goddam thing jes wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

                The massive man who sat next to Jack grumbled his agreement even as he shifted and turned to look at Charlie, “It’s always the dog who ain’t follow the rules.” His thick voice rumbled over itself as Charlie looked anywhere but within the man’s beady, brown eyes.

                “Goddam right Bear,” Thomas said, still staring at Charlie, “anyway, this fuckin’ thing finally came at me, barkin’ and yowling and carryin’ on. So I jes reacted and bonked it on the head with the pipe wrench I had in my hand.” The table roundly giggled like a table of high schoolers. “I just tapped it, I swear, but that thing was so weak it jes fell over. Didn’t see no blood or nothin’ but I ain’t want ‘em to know I mighta killed the family dog, so I jes dumped it in the falls.”

                Charlie swallowed once, nervous and scared. All the farmers were now staring at him. “I wonder if our dog is gonna yip and bark when it comes time.” The massive man known as Bear asked no one in particular.

                “Sometimes the dog don’t even need to bark,” added the man to Jack’s left. As thick and muscular as Bear was, Moose was thin and tall. No matter where Charlie saw him, no matter what season it was, no matter what was falling from the sky, Moose always wore his short sleeve, button up, denim-adjacent shirt. Long, writhing tattoo’s that, in a certain light, seemed to be an ancient lost language, peppered his arms. “But also sometimes the dog was jes doin’ its job.” Charlie realized Moose was the only one not looking at Charlie.

                “Isn’t that the kicker?” Jack said, now fully engaged with Charlie and the conversation. “Dogs do what they’re told, but they also can’t tell you why they should. They can’t tell you why they trust the pack, the alpha, but they do anyway.” His voice vibrated throughout the country store. Everyone, including the women behind the counter had stopped to listen. “That’s what the Horizon tells us, what we do is important because we can get it. You can get it, Charlie.” He then stood, smiled warmly and laid his hands on Charlie’s shoulder. Those teeth were pearlescent. Blaring and loudly white, like the background shimmers of the sky.

                “Its what yer parents would have wanted,” Auntie Rachael said, tears in her words. The foam container in her hand shook slightly. “They loved the world.” Charlie was too busy trembling in terror to have realized she had walked up to him.

                “I ain’t think he’s got the guts,” Bear said with a snarl.

                “It ain’t easy,” Moose added, “knowin’ the Horizon just sit there, waitin’ for ya to grab it, to look at it.” He turned to look Charlie up and down, “But I think he’s got it.”

                Jack then turned his back, “The church is waiting, my boy.” Craning his head to catch Charlie with a single eye, he then said, “Responsibility and faith.”

                “Responsibility and faith.” Murmured the store around him.

                Bear closed in so that Charlie could smell the chewing tobacco on his breath. His front teeth were lined with black reams of vomit flavored pitch. “It is more than that though.” The hand he placed on Charlie’s shoulder threatened to push him over just from the sheer weight of it. “What else you think it takes, boy?”

“Resolve.” Charlie whispered, unable to keep the panic out of his voice now. He’d gone through this song and dance more than once and with most of the members of the congregation.

“Good boy,” Bear said, squeezing his shoulder. “See ya tomorrah.”\

   “Oh for Pete’s sake leave the boy alone Bear, ain’t he got enough on his plate?” Aunt Rachael admonished Hog from behind the counter. She used a Styrofoam to-go container to as an accusatory baton. Bear, for his part, looked ashamed at first, but then angry at Charlie for getting him in trouble.

“Sorry Auntie, just thought he needed remindin’ is all. ‘Specially after his parents.” Hog stalked back over to his seat and his nosed whistled with effort as he sat down. “You make sure to take care uh yerself, Charlie. Eat up. Be strong. We’re countin’ on ya.” All the old men at the table nodded along with Hog, some touching the peculiar necklace they each wore.

“Oh hush now, he don’t need no remindin’ do ya sweety?” Aunt Rachael hustled from behind the corner, her tiny legs hurrying in the way that only an old ladies’ could.

Charlie cleared his throat and looked down at the white Styrofoam container, “Of course not, Auntie. I’m just nervous is all.”

“Oh honey, its ok to be nervous when doin’ things we didn’t know we’d have to do, its about how we do them that counts, right?” Her sweet face softened and she smiled a perfect smile at him. Just then the door bell jingled as the spring loaded door creaked and announced another occupant. “Aw Ronald!” Aunt Rachael squealed, “I thought you had to work today!”

A massive man had just walked in. Not massive like Hog, no, this guy was at least six and a half feet tall. Thick, fat muscles hid a prodigious beer belly. His face was clean shaven and his head cropped close to his skull. “Oh you know me, Auntie, always takin’ days off when I shouldn’t.”

Rachael set both hands upon her hips, “Well I’ll be, at least let me feed ya then?”

“Yup, just give me a second to look at yer menu.” He replied.

                Looking back at Charlie Aunt Rachael said, “Alright, you run home now and get some rest. We got rehearsal tonight remember?” Charlie murmured his assent and Rachael continued, “I’ll pick ya up at seven. Make sure you got an empty stomach too, I got plenty of treats waiting for ya back at the church!”

                “Yes Ma’am,” Charlie said quietly. He managed to turn his back to the group of heckling farmers and Rachael. He also managed to keep his legs moving at a normal pace, but he forgot to turn off the water works. One tear hit the ground as another tickled the corner of his nose. When he swung open the creaking screen door he heard Bear shout behind him, “Praise the Horizon, Charlie!” He heard the rest of the farmers parrot the phrase, but above it all, through the cacophony of voices he heard sweet Auntie Rachael’s voice join them.

                “Praise the Horizon!”