Alan's Fanfic Final Copy

This is a fanfic based loosely on the Jack Reacher novels by Lee Child with a flavour of Jack Kerouac and Louis Cha/Jin Yong. It differs from the Lee Child novels and the POV is that of a narrator. Lee Child uses Jack as the narrator POV.

Setting           Small bar/roadhouse/gas station on Quebec New Brunswick border.

Season          Winter

Time               Late evening midweek

Characters

1.    Narrator

2.    Locals

Ti Jean

Pierre LeGros

Crazy Alphonse

3.    Travellers

Tall Man

Short Man

Blonde Woman

4.    The Stranger

5.    The Travelling Author

Business was slow, but usual for a quiet Thursday in February. The weather didn’t help, 10 degrees below zero, 4 inches of hard snow on the ground and the prospect of a lot more before the weekend

Yep, the tourists were long gone and the town was left to just us locals and those travellers foolish or determined enough to be on the road in the depths of winter

I run a roadhouse in a small town on the Quebec New Brunswick border, a place on the main highway between Quebec City, Rivière du Loup, and the Maritimes, a place with not that many reasons to stop in unless you needed gas or diesel, coffee or beer, poutine or burgers.

I retired here from 30 years in the Navy, never wanted to see saltwater again, although there’s no getting away from the cold anywhere in Canada.  Tonight was no different from any winter’s night, I had a log fire blazing, juke box on low, the click of the balls from the pool-table as Ti-Jean and Pierre LeGros competed for the sheer pleasure of beating each other. They were brothers and had been that way all their lives. By the fireside Crazy Alphonse sat with his beer staring into the flames.  He was 2 tours in Iraq and wasn’t good for anything much after that.

The new guy sat at a table by himself. That wasn’t difficult as he was my only other customer. He was a big guy about 6 foot five tall, heavily built, and looked like he had been in and out of a few tight spots. He wore the sort of clothes that were a cross between bargain basement menswear and army surplus stores, a big jacket and a watch cap. So far he’d eaten well, 2 helpings of poutine and burgers, and one beer. Now he just sat with a pot of black coffee, just sat.

I heard a car pull up outside, the crunch of frozen gravel.

A minute later the outer and inner doors banged open bringing a blast of cold air and three new customers.  Usually people travel together in easily recognisable groups.  Families are the most common, followed by professional groups like sales teams, in the season groups of hunting buddies after moose or bear, or mixed groups of young people, students on spring break sort of thing.

These three didn’t fit together. I had a feeling there might be a backstory here.

The woman was tall, dark haired, a face that was attractive but just short of beautiful. She was well dressed with an expensive winter coat and boots.  That would fit with the new dark blue Lincoln Town Car I could see parked outside the window under the light.  The two men just weren’t in her league at all. The tall guy was scruffy with a big plaid hunting jacket, overalls, a dirty ball cap and boots. The other guy was short, built like a fireplug, but with a smooth almost city gangster appearance. Made him stick out like a dog’s balls here in rural Quebec. He spoke French, but not joual, which confirmed for me he was a city rat, not a country wolf.  The men ordered beers and poutine and got to work on the food as soon as it was served.

The woman sat slightly apart from her travelling companions. She ate nothing just ordered a pot of black coffee, which she barely touched. I could see the tension rippling off her in waves. Her companions ignored her and kept feeding.

Time passed, the jukebox rolled through another compilation of greatest hits, the LeGros brothers continued their battle over the pool table, Crazy Alphonse dozed over his warm beer.

Something changed, a shift in the atmosphere, an extra electron causing instability.  The woman looked over her companions at the big stranger, mute desperate pleading in her eyes. He caught the vibe, felt the tension acknowledged her message.  I saw him give her the slightest of nods. I could see him in front of my eyes shift gears, brace up slightly, go into hunting mode. Something feral had woken.

Mr Plaid Jacket was obviously feeling his beers. He got up and went to the men’s room.  It’s just down the hall past the pool table. A minute passed, the stranger went down the same route.  Must have been all that coffee he drank.

Time passed.  I felt a vibration in the wooden floor and I saw the back wall flex a little.  The old hunting print on the wall rattled briefly and became lopsided.

Mr Town Rat suddenly took notice of the time, tapped his watch and said something to the woman in a low voice. She stiffened and said nothing.

He suddenly noticed the time that had passed and that his sidekick had not returned. He spoke to the woman again, sounded like a threat by the look on her face. Kicked back his chair and went to the men’s room.

Time passed. I felt the floor vibrate again and imagined I heard the meaty sound of a body meeting an immovable force.  The back wall flexed again, this time the old print jumped off the wall, hit the floor and smashed. No loss.

I always hated that thing anyway. The brothers played on, oblivious

A minute passed then two. The stranger came back down the hallway. He rubbed his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. Paused at the woman’s table, handed her a set of car keys with a Lincoln tag. Something unspoken passed between them. She stood up, paid her check, added a decent tip and left.

He paid his check, no tip and left and followed her out the door. I heard the Lincoln start up, gravel crunched as the car moved off.

I poured myself a small Labatt’s and thought about what to do next.  I put an out of order sign on the men’s room door.

The LeGros brothers continued their battle, oblivious. Crazy Alphonse had fallen asleep by the fire.

The outer and inner doors banged and a new guy came in bringing a trace of snow with the blast of cold air. Slim guy mid-fifties, sandy blond hair receding, the sort of lined and weathered face you get from a lot of time outdoors.

‘Is there a washroom I could use’ he said

‘Use the staff one on the left, the men’s room is out of order’ I said

Presently he came back and perched on a bar stool, ordered coffee with a brandy chaser.

‘What brings you down this way’ I said, ‘heading for the Maritimes?’

‘Not really heading anywhere. You see I’m a writer and I spend about 1 month a year on the road writing drafts and gathering material and ideas’

‘Sounds good’ I said

He said, ‘I think there are stories all over the place waiting to be discovered and told. For example, the idea I’m working on is sort of a contemporary rewrite of the Chinese wuxia stories”

‘You lost me there buddy’ I said

‘Well there is a universal story of an outlaw hero who has no allegiance to a lord, and who goes around the country rescuing people and sorting out bad guys. He dispenses his own form of justice’

I poured him another coffee and put up a chaser

He said, ‘My idea for a character is a big guy, late thirties, ex-military with obvious combat skills who cuts himself loose and cruises around the country. His motivation is to live his own life with minimal involvement, but when he sees a situation that needs fixing or offends his personal moral code he steps in. Always moves on in the end though.’

I thought of the mess I would have to clean up in the men’s room.

‘She’s pretty quiet around here buddy’ I said, ‘can’t see you finding any material around these parts.’

By the way, what did you say your name was?’

‘Child’, he said, ‘Lee Child’.