by Peter Grist
I ain’t worried ‘bout me, I want to get Rosen and get back to my Gracie.”
He started to struggle to his feet causing a fresh pouring of blood from the stomach wound. George gently pushed Buster back down. “You just sit there and do as your told, I’m gonna head back to the clearing and get some help. I doubt Rosen will come back this way but,” He walked swiftly back to where Willets lay heaped at the bottom of another large tree and pulled the revolver from the dead man’s hand, barely looking at the glazed stare coming from the corpse. He went back and knelt beside his friend. “Take this, just in case but don’t go to sleep okay?”
“Okay George” he slurred back in reply, “but I do feel awful weary.”
“No, you mustn’t go to sleep Buster; I’m counting on you to watch my back now ya hear?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Well, that’s all I can ask for.” And with that, George stood and ran back the way the two friends had come, back towards the clearing. Buster sat with his legs outstretched and his hands on his lap, holding the revolver. His head turned left to right slowly, watching the path that Rosen had taken and the surrounding trees and vegetation.
Ed Saunders heard someone coming straight towards him, making no effort to conceal their movement and they seemed to be moving fast. He stopped and knelt down behind a tree, his browning pointing towards the noise as he peeked into the darkness to try and see who it was. Within seconds he saw George barrelling towards him, his shotgun held across his chest at the ready. Ed didn’t want to get shot by mistake so he shouted before he stepped out. “George! It’s Ed Saunders.”
George stopped immediately and started pointing the two vicious looking barrels of his weapon toward where he heard the voice in the dark.
“George, it’s me, Ed, Ed Saunders.” He repeated. Ed stepped out very slowly from behind the tree as George peered forward in the gloom to see better. Recognition came across George’s face as he saw Ed’s torso tentatively appear. The barrels of the shotgun came down immediately, much to Ed’s relief.
“Ed, Buster’s been shot; it’s pretty bad I think. We need to get him to a hospital fast!”
“The State Police are on their way, they’ll have a medic and some first aid kits with them.”
“I don’t think he’s got that long, I stopped the leg wound but he’s got a hole in his gut too!”
“Shoot! That sounds bad, okay I’ll go and see if I can help Buster, you go back to the clearing and get John and someone else. Between the four of us, we should be able to carry him to John’s pick-up and get him down the hill. Get Linda to call 911 and have an ambulance meet us at the bottom.”
An engine started somewhere in the distance and roared loudly as it headed away from them.
“Rosen and Willets!” exclaimed Ed.
“No, just Rosen, Willets is dead. Buster ran him over, literally.”
“Oh, okay well that’s one less arsehole in the world I guess. Right get going George.”
“Follow this track straight back about half a mile, you’ll find Buster, but be careful, he’s got Willets gun.” With no other words, they turned and went in opposite directions as fast as their legs would carry them.
thirty-three
The Sheriff saw Willets shoot the dumb nigger and get tossed out the way like he was made of tumbleweed or something, but that was fine by him, the old coot was slowing him down anyway. Jeeze, he was as slow as molasses in January and speed was going to be important now. He still didn’t understand how that dumb-assed salesman had found out about the black girl or where she was buried for that matter, but it was too late now, he had to get back to his place, pack and git the hell out of this one whore town. He was still ahead of the game though. He had a secret stash of money, a gun and some clothes in the barn just in case something like this ever happened and if time allows, he knew where Willets’ safe was and the combination to get into the thing. Now that old coot was loaded, but not as half as smart as he thought he was. Just a damn shame he never got to take that librarian bitch up the ass before wringing her scrawny neck, but you never know how things will turn out, he might still get a chance yet. Just gotta get off this damn hill.
By this point, Rosen had reached his Ford Crown Vic. His keys were still in the ignition, he turned the engine on, bashed Willet’s Caddy out of the way as he backed up then spun his car around and rammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The engine protested until he finally grabbed the gear shifter and rammed it into second then third. He wasn’t worried about ruts or potholes now. He banged his head several times as the car bounced out of a dip but he never released the gas pedal until he came close to the end of the first track and he barely slowed for that either. Now on the paved road, he went faster still, looking as far ahead as the headlamps allowed. He was coming out of the hills and onto one of the main county roads. His frequent looks in the rear-view mirror told him that he wasn’t being followed, yet, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He was coming up to the left turn to take him towards the rail crossing. The car fish-tailed as he took it at speed, jerking the wheel around viciously but he kept the pedal to the metal throughout. Now it was just a straight run back through town to his place.
“Oh craps, what now!” he exclaimed as he looked ahead. A few miles off in the distance he saw the flashing red and blue lights of an emergency vehicle, or maybe more than one. If it was Hodiak his deputy it was no problem, he would just order him to turn around and head back to the station because he had already sorted out the issue. He didn’t trust the numbnuts monkey as his moral compass was set rigidly north, and he was a Polack to boot. No way was he ever going to be invited to be part of the brotherhood. But from this distance, he couldn’t be sure. He doused the lights on the car but kept going at full speed, just making out the center line on the blacktop. His options were running out as he flew passed a small clump of trees and thicket on the right. He hammered his right foot down on the brake and was forcing the gear lever into reverse before the car had become stationary. Tires squealed as he reversed a hundred yards up the road then back into first gear and pulled the car down off the road onto the rutted, dusty earth of the ploughed field behind the trees. He put the car in neutral so he could take his foot off the brake pedal and extinguish the brake lights but kept the engine running. He had to wait less than a minute before an ambulance came speeding by with lights flashing but no sirens on. In a moment it had gone and was just a colorful blur in Rosen’s rearview mirror. He waited another long thirty seconds then selected first gear and started towards the road but no sooner than he had got the Crown Vic into motion than he jammed his foot on the brake, got it back into reverse and put it back behind the trees. Ahead of him he saw a small cavalcade of more flashing lights that had just bridged the mound where the rail tracks crossed the road. They were away off but getting closer quickly and this was the only cover he could see. He sat patiently as the lights came towards him. Instinctively he ducked down as four Police Dodge Chargers, two vans and another EMT wagon raced passed his place of concealment. They never slowed, just kept going straight on down the road. Again he waited for another half a minute then bounced the car back onto the road and hit the gas back towards Ludlow. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, he knew he was going to make a clean getaway and leave these dumb shmucks sniffing around their own backsides looking for clues. He hit the gas harder then shifted into top gear.
thirty-four
“Urgh, I think I just found something.” said the taller of the two men digging. John moved closer to the hole in the ground and was joined by Linda as he shone the torchlight down. The beam clearly illuminated a lock of blonde hair.
“Put the spades down and use your hands now; I don’t want her damaged any more than she is already.” Linda said to the two diggers. They didn’t move, they just looked up at John and Linda in shock. John pulled back the bolt on his hunting rifle and pointed it directl
y at the man who had found the girl.
“Do it now, before I decide I don’t need you two anymore and do it myself.”
The two men looked at each, nodded and dropped to their knees. The hole was now wide enough that they could work side by side. They started scooping out big clumps of clay-like earth from around where the hair showed through and threw it behind them. Within seconds a pale face appeared through the muck, the face of a little girl. She looked as she did before when Ed and Linda had found her, as if she were just sleeping, with hardly any decay at all. The clay-like soil had preserved them as if they had been mummified.
“Don’t touch her, don’t move her,” warned Linda. “Just work down and find her body.”
They did as they were told and started shuffling backwards to clear around the small body grunting with the effort. After just a couple of minutes the girl’s torso, clad in a pretty dress was clearly visible. The shorter of the two men scraped a big lump of clay away from the body’s right arm and as he pulled, a small brown hand and forearm flopped out onto the man’s knee. He screamed and jumped up. The whole group turned to see what was happening, captive and captures alike.
Linda knelt down beside the grave as John poured light over that part of the uncovered body. Linda looked at John and said one word. “Grace!”
Saunders reached Buster in just a few minutes. The big guys head was on his lap as if he were just having an afternoon nap. Ed gently took the barrel of the pistol and pointed it away from both of them then tugged it gently from Buster’s big hands. The metal felt sticky to the touch. Buster’s head came up as he stirred. Even in the near complete darkness under the canopy of trees, the big guy looked smaller and paler than before.
“It’s okay my friend, it’s just me Ed.”
“Mister Ed, I got one of em, I got the Mayor but da sheriff, he got away from me.”
“You did well just to do that Buster, and don’t worry about Rosen, we’ll catch up with him very soon. George will be back in a couple of minutes with some help to get you back to the cars but I just want a quick look under your hands there okay?” He had seen many bullet wounds in Vietnam and knew stomach wounds were the worst type to get. Buster nodded his head and tried lifting his arms a little but they felt like lead. Ed gave him a hand and peaked under Buster’s yellow check shirt and slightly lifted the blood-soaked handkerchief then placed it gently back. He reached around the giant’s torso and felt around his back, feeling for an exit wound which was usually much bigger than the entry wound, but he found nothing.
“Okay, you’re doing fine Buster, just stick with me and we’ll get through this.”
“Well, to tell the truth Boss, I don’t really feel any pain, I just feel real tired like I could sleep a hundred years.”
“You can sleep soon Buster, but not yet. Stay awake for now. Hey, tell me how you met your wife?”
The big man smiled as he reminisced about his wife, how they met in high school but were both too shy to talk to each other until one day after church service Elsa had bucked up the courage to ask Buster out on a date. “She always said that if we had waited ‘til I asked her we would never have gotten together at all!” His words poured out but were slowing down. Ed kept him talking until George returned five minutes later, out of breath but with another of Buster’s friends, BJ.
“We got here as quick as we could,” he panted, “ Linda has called for a medic.” He knelt down beside his injured friend and tenderly took the hand that was holding down the handkerchief. “Buster, they found her, they found Grace.”
“They found her, they found my baby?” Life came back into the man and with a strength that surprised all of them he started to stand.
“Buster no! You gotta get some help!” cried George. He shrugged them off as if they were a dream and started to stagger back towards the glade. They all realized it would be futile to try and stop him seeing his little girl so George and Ed caught up with him and took the weight off of him on either side and walked slowly back to the others while BJ headed for John’s pick-up and the bottom of the hill. Within a few minutes Buster was almost completely exhausted but somehow he just kept on plodding, one foot in front of the other, his two compatriots taking more and more of the big man’s weight as they fought their way through the trees. Buster found another burst of energy as they spotted lights up ahead and heard talking. While Ed had been away from the clearing, the diggers had been swopped around and now both the blonde girl in the red and yellow dress and Grace Benjamin were almost completely unearthed. Eugene ‘Buster’ Benjamin burst back into the clearing and ran unaided to the pile of earth near the middle. He sank to his knees at the foot of the now very wide grave and took in the sight of the two girls lying before him. Complete silence engulfed the woods, even the animals and birds seemed to understand the significance of the moment and dared not tweet or coo. George came to his side and offered a hand. He took it gladly and his friend helped him down the few feet into the ground. The gravediggers jumped out as the big man came in. Using the last of his strength he crawled up to his daughter and took both her young hands in his large calloused palms. On his knees, he raised her hands to his mouth and kissed them. His tears ran down his face and on to her hands.
“Hello Princess, I have missed you so much, but Daddy’s here now and we gonna go home to see your Momma, yes we are.” He lifted his head up and looked at the faces surrounding the grave and came to rest on a space where no one stood. He smiled and tilted his head as if listening, then nodded and searched the faces until he saw Ed’s. “We all three would like to thank you for what you’s done for us, you made our family complete once more,” he caught his breath, “and Esta says you paid your debt, no more bad dreams for you, no sir!” He coughed heavily and a thin spray of crimson was caught in the many beams of light shining across the grave. “Thank you, thank you all.” He smiled, stroked his daughter’s face and said “I love you baby.” then fell to the side. Linda, John and George jumped into the hole, mindful not to step on anyone. With Ed’s help from above, they pulled the giant out and to the side of the grave, his head resting on the mound of freshly excavated earth. Linda put her fingers to his neck then put her ear to his chest. Through the tears she couldn’t speak, she simply shook her head then sobbed even harder. Ed pulled her up and they hugged each other tightly.
When the heaving sobs became small sniffs, Ed lead Linda to the side of the clearing and sat her down on a fallen log. There they sat in silence until the noise of the woods began to re-enter their consciousness. For Ed Saunders, the first thing he was aware of was the noise the cricket was making that had jumped up onto the log next to him. It seemed to be looking directly at him and played his tune music vigorously with his back legs. Ed thought once again about that heart-breaking day in Vietnam, the last day he had ever fired a gun in anger, the sound of the crickets bringing it all back, so fresh and clear in his mind. But only briefly did he have time to dwell on that as the headache returned and his mind went white. It was Linda’s turn to hold onto Ed this time as she felt his body suddenly stiffen then go completely limp. She held him tight to stop him from toppling backwards off the log. “Now what the hell do I do?!” she thought to herself.
thirty-five
As Ed came to he immediately recognized where he was, he was at the Mountain View Motel and he was standing just outside of his room, room 14, but it clearly wasn’t 2010. Just the myriad of finned cars in the parking lot told him that he was back in 1962 once more. Two and three-toned cars almost filled the parking lot, sitting outside of a motel that had fresh pastel primrose paint on the walls and primary colour doors for the rooms. He looked around and spotted the sign to say the place was authorized by AAA and even a sign for a swimming pool, he was pretty sure that didn’t still exist in 2010 and had probably been filled in and built on. The big black shiny DeSoto sat in front of where he stood, looking low and menacing, a veritable rocket ship. As he stoo
d there he could almost taste the smoldering electricity that filled the air, hinting of a thunderstorm not too far off in the hills. He looked to the sky but it was still clear blue, the sun still beating down the last of its heat for a late afternoon. But a storm was coming, oh yes, a big storm was just over the horizon.
He knew instinctively what he should do. He put his right hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a leather key fob that held the key to the DeSoto. He unlocked the door and climbed in. As soon as he turned on the ignition the radio came to life, blasting loud music at him. He quickly switched off the radio cutting Del Shannon’s Runaway off in mid wine.
“God I’m starting to hate Rock ‘N’ Roll!” he spat at the now quiet car radio. He turned the car key again and the engine rumbled into life. He knew exactly where he had to go. With a sense of urgency, he pushed the Drive button, let out the handbrake and hit the gas, with a spin of the rear tires the big Mopar car shot forwards and out on to the street narrowly missing a silver double-decked greyhound bus that honked his horn at Ed. Even driving at speed it still took him the best part of forty minutes to get where he wanted to be, on the lane leading past the sheriff’s land. As he slowed the car to a stop he could just make out the roof of the barn through the tops of the trees about one hundred and fifty yards to the left. The clock at the center of the steering wheel read ten off seven, and looking through the windscreen he guessed that was in the PM and not morning. There was still plenty of summer sun but it was low in the sky out to the west. He looked further and saw dark clouds rolling quickly towards him, obliterating the distant mountain range from view, the static electricity in the air smelled like burning plastic. Yep, there was definitely going to be a storm, and it was going to be a doozy!
He removed his right foot from the brake pedal and the car instantly started to trickle forward. He let the car idle up to the entrance to Rosen’s drive and swung the big wheel to the left. The car bumped in and out of the rutted tracks as it crossed onto the well-worn driveway. For a big V-8, the car hardly made a sound, just a soft burble from its twin exhausts as it swept stealthily nearer the ranch house. The trees and brush fell back as Ed entered the wide frontage of Rosen’s home. A black and white 1957 Ford four-door Police car was parked lengthways outside the main house and to the left, the beat up old Dodge pick-up truck that he had encountered on his first flashback was tail into the barn. Ed pushed the actuator button for neutral on the dash and the car rolled to a silent stop as he turned the ignition off. He pulled up the chrome door lever and eased out of the car. The only noise now was the slow ticking from the car as the engine cooled, and the screeching high above in the early evening deep blue sky as a bird of prey stalked its next victim. There was a small click as Ed pushed the door gently closed. He didn’t think there was much need for being covert as the black DeSoto was in plain view of anyone that walked out of the house or barn, so he quickly made his way towards the side of the barn nearest to him. As he neared he could hear the rhythmic crunch as a spade entered the earth and a grunt of exertion as it was pulled out. He made his way along the side of the wood panelling towards the front of the building and poked his head around the front. The left barn door was closed but the right was pulled wide open and the back of the old pick-up was just inside the structure with its tailgate down. He peeked over the side and into the bed to find to his relief it was empty. The shovelling noise stopped abruptly so Ed jumped back out of view with his back to the closed door. There was some more distant grunting then the digging continued. Ed crouched down and slipped around and into the barn. Long shadows stretched across the hard-packed earth. Three bare light bulbs hanging at intervals along the main roof beam struggled to spread light into the long disused stalls on either side. He could smell and almost taste the fading aroma of old leather, hay and lubricating oil of the old wooden structure. In the backs of the stalls, loose pieces of hay lay in small clumps, vying for space with the cobwebs and spiders, but other than a rusty oil can and the odd blunt farming tool, the stalls all seemed empty. Working his way stealthily from stall to stall, he made his way towards where the noise was coming from, the very back of the barn. He was very glad to see there was no velvet curtain hanging from the back wall and no wooden stage or alter. Ed was in the second to last stall on the left but still couldn’t see anything except the workbench at the back and to the right. There was no digging going on over there so he swiftly ran to the other side of the barn and crouched down into the opposite stall he had come from. This gave him a clear view of the back left-hand side of the building. The last stall was double width and in the center was a sturdy wooden trap door that measured some four-foot square. The clean, new pine contrasted with the darkened old wood of the barn wall that it lent upon. Stacked upright in the very corner was half a dozen hessian sacks full with what Ed could only imagine was the contents of the hole. A flickering light emanated from the access that the trap door covered, along with the grunts and sounds of earthworks. Slowly, he tiptoed towards the opening in the ground until he could just about see into the cavity. It looked to go about twelve foot down but seeing nothing, he came a little closer to the edge and looked down to see a youthful Johnny Rosen looking straight up at him.