He sat at the end of the bar, reading the previous day’s newspaper and working on his third beer with a Jack Daniels chaser and wondering if it was time to move on to a new area. Funds were starting to deplete, the money he had got for the house, his car and his possessions starting to dwindle. The idea of going back to society seemed alien to him, especially after seeing all that life had to offer outside of the grind. He wondered how it would be, to go back to his old life. To see Amy again. He supposed it would be awkward. She would be angry and remind him she was right about his inability to kick the booze.
Fuck her.
He swallowed his JD in one, closing his eyes as its warmth radiated through his body.
Screw you, Amy.
He stopped himself before his thoughts turned nasty. When that happened, the alcohol demon he carried around inside him would wake and get out of control. When that happened, he would black out and have no idea what happened next. Those incidents scared him. He would often wake up asleep in the street or in a jail cell. He knew it was only a matter of time before he did something he couldn’t shy away from when nursing a hangover. Even though he tried not to think about her, Amy was right. He needed to keep control of his habit and make sure he kept it in check. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he ordered another drink, nodding to the bartender to bring him another and making the whole notion he had any control over his addiction irrelevant. As he waited for his drink to arrive, he looked around the bar at the few drinkers scattered around the room who Tyler assumed were pro drinkers like him. Around the curve of the bar just a few feet away, two men were deep in conversation. One of them was horrifically scarred, and even with the Panama hat pulled low on his head, Tyler could see something severe had happened to him. The man next to him was in his twenties, skin tanned, black hair and blue eyes, the kind of guy women always threw themselves at. The scarred man was clearly frustrated, his hands gesticulating as he spoke to the younger man. Tyler had no intent to listen in on their conversation, it just happened as he waited for his drink. The old man kept mentioning gold, and how they could be rich to which the younger man was telling him it was likely a hoax and he shouldn’t get his hopes up. The younger of the two men caught Tyler watching them.
‘Can I help you?’ he snapped.
Tyler stammered, stumbling over his words. ‘No, sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy, I was just waiting for my drink and couldn’t help but overhear.’
‘See, Dad?’ the younger man said. ‘Everyone can hear you making a fool out of yourself.’
The scarred man looked at his son, then across at Tyler. ‘You’re a regular in here, aren’t you?’
Tyler nodded.
‘Thought so. I’ve seen you in here before.’
Tyler didn’t reply. He had never seen the scarred man before. He would have recognised him. The man with the scars grinned as if reading his thoughts. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not surprised you haven’t seen me. I usually sit in the corner where it’s dark and my son here, Liam, gets me my drinks. I don’t want to scare off the customers.’ He tried to smile, but with his lack of lips and facial muscle structure, it came off as a grimace. The man held his good hand out to Tyler. ‘Names Nash. Robert Nash.’
The two men shook hands. ‘Tyler. Nice to meet you.’
Nash flicked his head towards his son. ‘This short-tempered one is my son, Liam.’
Liam nodded at Tyler, showing none of the warmth or friendliness of his father
‘I’m impressed,’ Nash said.
‘Excuse me?’ Tyler said as the bartender set his drinks in front of him and took the empties away along with the money.
‘You look me in the eye when you talk to me. Most people see this and think I’m some sort of leper.’
‘I take people as I find them.’
‘That accent. You’re not a local, are you? You a yank?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Most of the tourists stick to the coastal bars, but something tells me that’s not you either.’
‘No, I’m… well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I am. I sold everything I own and decided I wanted to travel. Been doing that for a while now and found myself here. I don’t like the tourist places.’
‘I don’t blame you, mate. Too pricey and rowdy. This is a decent spot, though, even though the draft stuff is watered-down piss.’
Tyler grinned. He liked Nash already. Living with such a disfigurement couldn’t have been easy, yet he seemed to be in good spirits.
‘We don’t have time for this, Dad,’ Liam said, giving a mistrustful glance towards Tyler.
‘Of course we do. This isn’t time limited, son. Now go get the drinks in whilst I bring our new friend up to speed and see what his opinion is on this.’
‘Dad…’
‘Another beer for me and whatever you want.’ Nash cut in.
Liam glared at his father, then at Nash before doing as he was told and heading to the bar. Nash watched him go, then turned back to Tyler. ‘He’s a good kid, just stubborn. I can’t say too much as he gets it from me.’
Tyler nodded and sipped his drink.
‘How much did you hear about what me and the boy were saying?’
Tyler shrugged. ‘Nothing really. Something about gold but no details.’
‘Right, right, well, the thing is, me and him are in a bit of disagreement about something and I thought that you, as a neutral, might be able to help us out.’
‘Sure, why not?’ Tyler said, amazed at how quickly he had got used to Nash’s horrific scars.
‘Let me ask you something, mate,’ Nash said. ‘You ever hear of the Devil’s Triangle?’
Tyler shook his head. ‘Should I have?’
‘Probably not. It’s more of a local legend.’
‘What is it?’
Nash looked around and tried to grin again, the effect ghastly. ‘Well, it’s this place about a hundred miles off the coast. An area where people don’t go.’
‘Why’s that?’ Tyler asked, thinking this was starting to sound like the start of a corny ghost story.
‘You heard of the Bermuda Triangle? Surely you know that one.’
‘Yeah, ship graveyard. They say weird things happen there. Magnetic interference or something. Causes boats to lose their way and planes to crash.’
‘Yeah, that’s the one,’ Nash said as Liam returned with the drinks. ‘Well, we got one of those here only we call it the Devil’s Triangle.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘You won’t have,’ Liam said. ‘People down here don’t talk about it. They don’t even take it seriously, which is what I’m trying to tell the old man here.’
Nash raised a gnarled, scar-crossed hand. ‘Hang on a second, you’re getting ahead of the story, son.’
Tyler waited until Nash took a sip of his drink then went on. ‘Anyway, this place, the Devil’s Triangle, people have talked for years about it. It was first reported back in 1877 as a place to avoid because it was dangerous there. Ship graveyard.’
‘Could be shallow waters. It happens.’
Liam grinned. ‘You think nobody would have bothered to check that? The waters there are deep enough. It’s shallow a few miles from the area, but not there. The water is deep.’