Flashback

by Peter Grist

  “Buster, I’ll need you with me okay?”

  “Okay boss, whatever you thinks best.”

  Linda put a hand out to Ed as they moved to the front of the house.

  “Please, be careful…..and, thank you.” She kissed him fully on the lips. The kiss was long and deep. He breathed in her citrusy scent and lingered in the sweet taste of her mouth. They parted, stared into each other’s eyes, then he turned and almost floated out the door.

  twenty-eight

  John’s Ram pick-up creaked and dipped down on its springs as Buster climbed in the back along with George, a forty-year-old ex-infantry soldier now mechanic and colleague of Buster at the gas station. Ed sat up front with John, the paint wedged between his feet. John put his hunting rifle on the gun rack behind the seat, while George kept hold of his shotgun. Buster gripped a large flashlight in one hand and held onto the side of the bouncing truck with his other. The journey took thirty minutes to make as they headed out of town and up into the hills on the furthest side of town. The last half a mile was made slowly with the Ram’s lights doused, partly so they couldn’t be seen or heard and also because the road was meandering and full of holes. John had passed the entrance to their destination and followed the broken and cracked blacktop another half mile around the back of the small estate and into a small patch of woodland. The truck was turned around then switched off, the got out and got into single file, Ed at the front carrying the pot of paint, and then John, George and Buster bring up the rear. The small group made their way silently through the trees towards the secluded main house. As they neared the boundary fence the trees grew less dense so they started to hunker down then eventually crawled on all fours as best they could the last few feet to the barbed wire boundary fence. From their vantage point in the last of the long grass, they looked onto the back of a large single story wood-sided house. Several lights cast long tapers across the hard-packed earth but faded to dark long before the fence. To the right and just in front of the dwelling they could make out the silhouette of a large barn and two smaller barns facing the front of the property but no movement.

  “George, John, you go take a look at the house, see who’s home. Buster and me will go look in the barns. Meet back here in ten okay?” The small group whispered agreement.

  “You’d better take this, just in case.” said George as he proffered his double-barrel 12-gauge.

  “No, thanks anyway, I’ve got something if I need it.”

  They started to rise together but just as the group began to move, the rear door to the house burst open, spilling even more light out across the back yard. The four men dropped back down again and lay flat behind some tufts of coarse grass, watching. Someone stepped out of the house and walked a few feet to the left, out of the reach of the light from the doorway and into the shadows. The prone men watched as the figure struck a match and lit a cigarette. With the man’s back to them, the brief flame gave them the silhouette of someone tall and thin, with short hair wearing work clothes but that was about all. The smoker flicked the end of the match, the flame died and darkness prevailed. He then turned towards the trees, tossing away the spent match, then took a few steps towards the trees taking deep lungfuls of nicotine into his body and slowly exhaling. The hidden men hunkered down even more, trying to make themselves invisible. Ed was on the right of the group, looking ahead but being as still as he could be. Something landed beside his head; he turned slowly and saw just a foot from his face the biggest cricket he had ever seen. He groaned inwardly as he realised what was about to happen. The mighty cricket reared up, and like a virtuoso violinist preparing to play, drew back his rear legs. The first chirp, so loud and clear in Ed’s ears, cut through the silence like a rifle shot. He tried to cover his ears but to no avail, the pain in his head was rolling in like an unstoppable ocean wave heading inexorably towards a beach. Even as the pain increased he knew he mustn’t cry out, he wrapped his arms around his head and held on, the pain intensifying until……

  Nothing, he could hear absolutely nothing. He tentatively raised his head and felt pleased that it didn’t fall off his shoulders, in fact; once again, there was no pain at all. Ed looked around and found he was lying in exactly the same position he had been in before the cricket chirped, only this time, he was completely on his own, the other three guys had gone and so had the stranger. He began to rise when the door at the back of the house opened and a lone figure stepped out.

  Strains of Patsy Cline singing Crazy wafted out of the open door then quickly faded away to near silence once more as the door closed behind the man, muffling the tune from the radio or record player somewhere in the house. Ed quickly ducked back down. Just as before, the man struck a match, lit a cigarette then flicked the bottom of the stick to extinguish it and tossed the spent match on to the ground. The windows were dark so the only light now coming from the house was through the window of the backdoor. The man was again in silhouette but it looked to Ed as if he were wearing some kind of gown or robe that went almost all the way down to his boots. Ed concentrated on the man’s face hoping to see some features when the cigarette was inhaled and grew brighter but he was too far away. All Ed could make out was that the smoker was gaunt and clean-shaven. The figure stood still, staring out towards the woods. He finished the smoke and flicked the butt towards where Ed lay hiding, the still smouldering end falling just ten feet away from his location. The figure turned and walked the few paces back towards the house, but then hesitated, looked back to the woods, scanning slowly from left to right, then seemingly convinced he was alone went back to the house and opened the door. Ed caught another few bars from Patsy Cline and the briefest flash of crimson and gold from the robe as the man entered the light, then the door closed behind him returning the backyard to silence and darkness.

  As soon as the door had closed and the rear of the house returned to shadows Ed was on the move. He held up the top line of fresh new barbed wire and stepped on the lower two, making a big enough gap for him to pass through. As soon as he was clear he ran the thirty or so feet to the left corner of the house and stopped with his back to the wooden building. He peeked around the side and saw that it was still in darkness, so crouching low to avoid being seen through any windows, he ran to the front of the house. He knelt down at the corner and took a look around the front. Lights blazed from the windows at the front of the house, illuminating most of the drive. He was dismayed to see a bunch of cars and pick-up trucks parked nose in towards the house but not surprised to see they were all from the 1950s or early 60s, the latest being the one nearest to him which looked to be a nearly new black ‘62 Cadillac, the oldest being the now familiar beat-up burgundy Dodge pick-up parked next to it. The house had a wooden porch and cover, giving it a Wild West saloon look. He skipped over the wood railing and tip-toed towards the first window. The room was lit but empty and appeared to be a study with a desk and leather high-backed chair. He moved on to the next window which was smaller and set much higher, the washroom he deduced. Next came the door, which Ed thankfully saw was closed so he went quickly on. He was now over halfway down the porch and completely exposed, if someone came out now he’d had it. The next windows were the largest, both of which were open. Ed snuck down and got closer. He could hear them before he could see them, sounded like a bunch of men chatting away at a party. Almost under the first window now he dared to look up and in. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t what was in front of him now. It was a perfectly ordinary living room, lacking a women’s touch perhaps but liveable and comfortable. A two-seater and two matching chairs were at one end, near the open brick fire. To the side was a wood-encased phonogram with some long-play records waiting on the top. This was where the plaintive voice of Patsy Cline was emanating. Nearer to Ed and in a corner was another wood-covered appliance, a black and white Muntz television, that was switched on but with the volume turned low and was showing adverts. A table on the far side ha
d crockery, sandwiches and drinks. Everything seemed perfectly normal for a gathering of friends, which is why the eight fully robed men in the room made the scene even more surreal. They stood in groups of twos and threes chatting away, almost all of them with their backs to the window, sipping beer or eating. Most of the robes were deep burgundy with silver accents although he could see one that was bright crimson and gold. The smoker from out back he guessed and another figure dressed all in white. All of the robes had matching hoods that at present were hanging down their backs to form a high collar. All of the robes had a large badge sown on to the left arm; Ed was stunned to see that it was a stylised blood red swastika set in a white circle. Ed was looking at a room full of American Nazis.

  A short figure nearest the TV pulled back the loose sleeve of his robe and looked at his watch.

  “Nearly 10.30, I just love this show.” he said to no one in particular. The voice was familiar but Ed couldn’t quite place it. The man leaned over and raised the volume a little.

  Vernor’s soft drink with Va-va-voom. Aged four years in wood. Remember, the fun ones drink Vernors.

  Okay, welcome back to KYW-3, This is Ken Goodman giving you the latest weather report brought to you by Sinclair Oil. And don’t you turn that dial now, coming up next we have ‘One Step Beyond’, but first, the weather….

  “How can you watch that crap?” said another of the small group in disgust.

  “Hey!” he replied indignantly, “it’s great, it’s all about the other side.” The shorter man turned as he spoke and Ed was looking straight at a younger version of Sam Ryan the motel owner.

  “That machine is gonna fry yer brains I’m telling ya. Shoot! I’m gonna get some air.” The taller man rebuked.

  Ed realised the nearest supply of fresh air for the other man was through the front door, not the back. There was no way he could get to either end of the porch before the robed figure emerged from the front door. Ed quickly turned and vaulted with one hand over the railing and dived down, coming to rest on his hands and knees next to the four fake ventiports of a two-tone blue ‘55 Buick Century. The front door of the house creaked open as the figure stepped out. The man wandered aimlessly in the other direction, taking a quick look inside the Cadillac at the far end. Keeping low, Ed tried to follow the other man’s course but lost him. Turning sideways to the rear of the Buick Ed glanced right at the last car in the row. It was black and white and carried a huge gold star on the door. Looking up, Ed could just make out the top of the red dome light on the roof.

  “Crap!”

  The thought pretty much covered it. Just as he returned to his mission of tracking the man in the robe, the figure walked past the backs of the two cars Ed was crouching between. The man glanced sideways and they made eye contact, but he kept walking for another step and did a double-take, disbelief written over both of their faces. Ed recognised this man too. He was looking into the clear blue eyes of Esther’s husband Jed, only a much younger version.

  “What the hell….”

  Before Jed could utter another syllable, Ed had leapt to his feet and ran towards the man. As Ed approached, a velvety arm swung towards him but Ed ducked the swing and as he came back up, followed through with a gravity-defying jump in the air. At the zenith of his jump, Ed lashed out with a hook kick that caught the other figure in the side of the head. Jed Mourn stumbled sideways but was still standing although he was leaning heavily on the side of the patrol car. He shook his head clear and rushed toward Ed with a low growl. At the last second, Ed stepped neatly sideways and raised his forearm up, using the other man’s energy to ram the firm muscle into the man’s throat. The man crumpled to the ground gagging for air, grabbing with both hands at his throat. Ed knew he had to get clear, and quickly, but he didn’t want to be followed. With little remorse he kicked out with his right leg, smashing down on the side of the robed figure’s left knee, the crack of bone confirming the strike was on target. Before the fallen man could scream with what little air was in his lungs, Ed’s right foot came up and caught the man under his chin whipping his head back to impact on the back fender of the patrol car. He collapsed sideways unconscious, but the noise of his head hitting the car had been loud and someone inside the house had heard it over the noise of the TV. Ed ran as fast as his legs would carry him round to the left of the house, back into the darkness. Shouts came from the front as the rest of the mob poured out. It took little time to find their fallen comrade. Ed was halfway across the clearing before the first shot rang out, kicking up dust and dirt ten feet to his left, they still hadn’t seen him. An engine howled into life and earth sprayed out as one of the group wheel-spun their car into motion, headlights blazing. Ed knew there was no way he was going to have time to delicately climb through the barbed-wire fence. The beams of light were coming around the side of the building, a big V8 engine roaring in protest. Another shot through the dark, this time close enough to make Ed jump sideways. With the light from the car headlamps now breaking the darkness he could see he had only ten feet to go before the fence, he put his head down and ran even faster, his legs pumping like pistons, his chest heaving, drawing in as much air as he could. The lights from the car were now on his back, he wasn’t going to make it. With as much energy as he could muster he dived forwards, arms in front as if he were going off a diving board; he lunged up and forward over the fence just as a bullet chipped out a hunk of wood from the fence post next to his head. He cleared the fence with an inch to spare but his landing was far from soft. Head down, he came bowling over through the long grass, he rolled once, twice, the wind being pushed out of him so he could hardly breathe before a tree stopped his spin. A heavy weight wrapped heavily around his chest, it was so tight, no air, he couldn’t breathe, gasping desperately, My God, this is how it ends.

  twenty-nine

  Ed jerked awake and found that he was being almost crushed by the massive weight of Buster’s torso.

  “Get off! I can’t breathe! Off!”

  Buster rolled to the side. “I sorry boss” he whispered, “had to stop yous from kickin’ out, you was thrashin’ somethin’ awful at the end there. It was another o your dreams wasn’t it?”

  “Christ! I thought I was having a heart attack!”

  Ed was back behind the wire fence with his three companions, two of them looking wide-eyed at him in disbelief. As he gasped for air he peered through the darkness at George, then John and lastly at Buster. Each breathe smelt like pure heaven to him. He finally started to calm down and found the strength to look. He remembered the smoker and peaked over the tuft of grass they were hiding behind. There was no trace of the man. He looked up at the old wooden post nearest to him. There, near the top was a clear but faded notch where it looked like a gunshot had grazed and splintered the wood many years before. He shook his head in quite wonder. Finally, he addressed the small group.

  “Yes, it was.” He looked at John and George. “I can’t explain it right now, you’re just gonna have to trust me on this. I think there’s going to be more than one of them; in fact, I’m pretty sure we could be up against at least eight men. Now that changes things quite a bit so I wouldn’t feel any less about you if you wanted to sit things out and stay here, but I want to see what’s in that barn, and it would help to know who is in that house.”

  He left the sentence open, staying quiet, waiting for them to think about what he had said. He knew Buster was still in because of Grace. It didn’t take too long for the guys to look at each other, nod, turn back to Ed and almost in unison say “We’re in!”

  “Good job!” he replied, “Okay, same plan, but be careful, see if you can find out who and how many are in the house. Back here in ten minutes. Let’s go!”

  He stood and spread the rusty old barbed-wire so the others could go through. He looked to the post beside him again and stared at the large nick out of the wood, faded but still visible even in the pale vaporous light of the moon. H
e shivered briefly but he kept quiet.

  Even with the other two helping stretch the fence it was a squeeze for Buster to get his sizeable torso through the barbed-wire but he made it, just catching the back of his shirt. Ed came through last as John held the wire for him, he nodded his thanks then the two pairs ran in opposite directions, Buster and Ed went right towards the barn, John and George went to the left of the building, unknowingly retracing the steps Ed had taken in his dream. As Buster and Ed worked their way to the big barn they could see a bunch of cars parked outside the house, confirming Ed’s fears.

  Josh was nearly through the rope that bound his wrists when he heard a scraping sound. He stopped dead, held his breath….and listened. He strained his ears. There it was again, very faint, someone on the outside of the building, just behind where he sat but on the other side of the wooden siding. Whoever it was moved away from Josh, closer to where he imagined the door would be. He rubbed furiously at the hoe’s blade, his skin raw from the friction. He froze once more, a creek from the other end of the barn, the door opening? The masking tape had given easily and at last the rope gave way, he snatched the hoe so it didn’t bang down. He tried to get to his feet but his legs felt wobbly and weak. He wouldn’t panic, BA wouldn’t panic, BA would go right out there and bust some fools heads, but Josh didn’t feel quite that brave. On all fours now he tried again to stand and this time succeeded, rubbing his wrists and hands to get the circulation going in them. The boy got on tippee-toes but the wood sides were just a little too high for him to see anything. He forced his bare feet to move him forward to the edge of the stall; loose hay got stuck between his toes. He ignored it. His eyes were very used to the dark but it was still nearly pitch black so he used his hands to guide his way along the side. He reached the last part of the stall and peaked around the end to where he heard the noise come from. He saw what looked to him like a large sliding single barn door with a small access door built into it. The small door was open a little, the moonlight called him to go that way, but he knew that he wasn’t alone in the barn, someone had just come through that same door. He ducked down and scampered in the opposite direction, to the back of the barn, past three more stalls. Back here it was totally dark again, he slowed, hands out in front of him, feeling his way forward. Panic was taking over, making him short of breath, he couldn’t hear anything now except blood rushing around his head and in his ears, like the engine of a jet plane. A jet plane! Daddy’s plane. Daddy! His toes hit a step, he stumbled, tripped up a second step before his legs gave way, his shins grazing on the step, his shoulder jarring into a table, it was big and heavy but it shook. A noise like a can toppling over almost covered the “Ouch!” that came through Josh’s lips, almost, but not quite. Complete panic took over now, not thinking, he turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, towards the door, towards the moonlight and escape. He fixed his eyes on the strip of light, he pumped his arms, his legs, but the barn was so long, it was taking forever, his legs felt like lead. The light, just get to the light, the door, outside, keep going. Darkness, the light had disappeared completely, gone, in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened to the light until it was too late, he ran straight into the chest of a man, a big man.