James Axler – Freedom Lost

“This damn well better be good. I hate waiting in line,” Ryan announced.

“Where are the menus?” Doc asked.

“Up there. Above the woman taking the orders,” J.B. said, pointing out the hand-lettered displays hanging from the ceiling. “Nice to be able to read fine print from a distance again.”

“At least the selection is generous,” Doc remarked, his lips moving as he read off some of the offering on the day’s menu.

“Hey! Glazed ham!” Dean said eagerly.

“Pricey,” Ryan said, reading the listed amounts for various meals. “Still, I guess we’re entitled to one good meal. I know I am. Order what you want.”

“Bless my fragile soul, but is that a listing for a bowl of pinto beans?” Doc asked.

As the group looked over the menu, Ryan took in the rest of the restaurant. The interior was crowded to near bursting, and filled not only with a wide variety of customers, but with their overlapping conversations, as well, all of which seemed to blur together into a single mass hum that phased in and out between being uncomfortable and unnoticeable.

There wasn’t an empty seat in the house. Older men seemed to have claimed the long metal counter-top bar that ran along the left windowless wall, all of them busy at their plates, shoveling forkfuls of food into their mouths. The tables and booths were also all occupied with people of all races. While the food appeared to vary, the only beverages being offered seemed to be water or coffee sub.

Unlike any other ville Ryan had ever visited, none of the inhabitants had paid attention to a new group of seven walking into the eatery. Jak got a curious glance or two, and that was all.

A table filled with the forest greens of the mall sec force occupied a corner table, a good location Ryan would have chosen for himself if there had been room. From the vantage point the sec men had chosen, they could see anyone who came into the place, as well as having a good view of the dual kitchen doors to the back. Two of the men stared back at Ryan as the one-eyed man gave them the once-over.

“No good, this,” Jak griped. “Many people. Hard see, hard hear. Dangerous.”

“My daddy always used to tell me, the more people in a restaurant, the better the food was,” Mildred said. “And I’m starved.”

“So let’s eat,” Ryan stated, striding across the floor to the line waiting for service at the counter.

WHEN THEIR ORDERS were delivered, the friends decided to go into the central food court outside. Carrying their trays carefully, they looked for a place to sit. Ryan chose a table near a wall so they could be guaranteed of having one section safe. J.B. sat on his left and Dean on his right. Krysty took the chair next to Dean. Jak, Doc and Mildred completed the circle. Their meals showed off variety. All of them drank coffee sub or water or both, but they differed in food selections. Ryan had gone for a hunk of steak smothered in thick brown gravy, with mashed potatoes and green peas, while Krysty asked for and got a massive salad covered in dressing and bread crumbs. Dean had selected his glazed ham and fried apples. Mildred chose breakfastscrambled eggs, strips of bacon, spicy hash brown potatoes and dark toasted bread. J.B. also got eggs, but had his fried, with a side of chewy sausage patties and more of the bread.

Nothing elaborate, but it was all good, filling food.

Docfor some reasonhad selected his bowl of pinto beans smothered in onions with a generous helping of corn bread on the side.

“I’ve never had a tastier platter of beans,” Doc said with relish once his meal was done. “This re minds me,” he started out, “of another fine occasion”

“No, no reminders,” Dean said hastily. “Doc, I like it fine here. Let me enjoy it!” he pleaded.

“Are you saying my company is less than stellar, young Cawdor?” Doc responded haughtily over the rim of his coffee cup. “And I thought I contributed to the boy’s education,” he added with a hurt air to Ryan.