Vengeful Saviors (Otis Driftwood x OFC)

Chapter 3

🎶You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run, tried to hide
Break on through to the other side🎶

The Doors Break on Through (To the Other Side) floated from the speakers. We were no longer in the city. We were coasting on a highway in the middle of nowhere. The country had been green and lush when we first started traveling but had slowly faded into dry desert as time passed.

"Hey, Cutter," Otis called over the radio.

"Yeah?" He eyed us in the rearview mirror.

"Turn that the fuck down fer a minute."

"Why?"

"Well, fer one, Cherry's head is prolly poundin' out her fuckin' skull. Fer two, I wanna talk to ya 'bout somethin'."

"Yeah, it is," I rasped, rubbing my forehead.

Grumbling, Cutter lowered the volume. "What?!"

"You still got those antibiotics in the glove box?" Otis asked. "You know, the ones from the dentist ya never even touched?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Give 'em ta Cherry. She might need 'em. You don't."

Cutter rolled his eyes and retrieved a pharmacy bottle from the glove box. He passed it over the seat to Otis, who shook the bottle to make sure it was full.

"Can ya take Penicillin?" Otis inquired. "Some people are allergic. Seems a lot o' redheads are."

"I can take it. I don't have any allergies."

"Here." He pressed the bottle into my palm. "Once you can keep food and water down, I wan'cha ta start takin' these. Better safe than sorry."

"Alright, thanks."

Otis grunted.

I read over the label slowly. Penicillin, 250 mg tablets, Quantity: 30. Take one tablet every 6 hours until gone. What interested me was the name on the bottle, Johnny Lee Johns. The address was some road in Ruggsville County, Texas I had never heard of. Ruggsville was about 3 hours away from Houston in the opposite direction. It was also my hometown, which I found to be kind of odd.

"Johnny Lee Johns?" I muttered.

"That's my real name," Cutter said. "Don't go 'round repeatin' that, ya hear? Just ferget ya ever saw it, alright?"

"Okay. So Cutter is just a nickname?"

"Yeah, or an alias. Whatever ya choose ta call it. My brother gave it ta me after I stabbed a motherfucker ta death." He snickered. "I've used it ever since."

"The same brother who owns the whore house?" I asked.

"Yeah. Only, he ain't my blood brother. I'm adopted."

"Oh. Kinda like Otis."

Otis snorted. "Nah, I met Cutter on the road stealin' cars. I went by Drifty and Whitey back then."

Cutter chuckled. "No, this was a real adoption. I was an orphan fer a while when I was a kid."

"Oh." I stuffed the medicine bottle into the pocket of my robe. "Johnny Lee Johns? Who the fuck is that? Dunno any Drifty's or Whitey's, either."

"Good girl," Cutter said.

"And we dunno any Cherry's," Otis added.

Cutter hit every bump in the road. My sore pussy and my ribs were killing me. Wincing, I shifted around in the seat.