Grey Areas

by Brad Carl

  "I don't know what happened. They're gone," Chum said. He knelt down in front of the door and examined it.

  "What do you mean?" Franco asked, moving closer to the hidden door.

  "I mean, somebody disarmed it and removed the C4. It's gone!" Chum exclaimed as he fumbled his way through the combination of the attached padlock. He pulled the lock open and grabbed the latch on the door, opening it to the left.

  "What the fuck?" Chum blurted.

  "It's empty!" Franco shouted. "What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull here?" He grabbed Chum by the back of his collar and yanked him to his feet.

  "I'm not pulling anything!" Chum insisted. "There were five kilos in there and two hundred and fifty grand—it's all gone!"

  Franco stared at him as he tried to decipher the truth by looking deep into Chum's eyes.

  "Maybe Eddie took it," Franco suggested.

  "He didn't know where it was at, and even if he did he wouldn't do that," Chum told him. "The stuff was just here last weekend when I..."

  Chum turned and eyeballed Henry.

  "What?" Henry asked. Chum's head turned sideways, still staring. Then it dawned on Henry what he was thinking.

  "You think it was me? I've been working the entire week until now. Work and sleep, that's all I've done. I haven't even been in this basement until now!"

  The last part wasn't true, but Henry didn't think explaining himself would help his case. It was safer to lie.

  "It was here last Sunday before I started mowing the lawn. You showed up and rented the place and that was the last time I was in here until now. Who else would it be?" Chum accused.

  "It seems you've got plenty of enemies. Why don't you tell us who else it would be," Henry said. He couldn't believe this was happening.

  "If you two don't figure this out in thirty seconds, I'm going to shoot both of you right here. Someone knows something. Come on, damnit!" Franco was growing impatient.

  "Shoot both of us?" Chum cried out. "He's the one who stole the shit!"

  "No. I didn't." Henry said in a much calmer tone than Chum had just used to accuse him.

  "Figure it out," Franco commanded them.

  Henry looked at Chum, then at Franco and Rafael.

  "This is bullshit. I'm being set up," Henry told them. He needed to figure something out, fast. Chum didn't seem interested in anything but pointing the finger and saving himself.

  What an asshole, Henry thought.

  "You just need to tell the truth," Chum pleaded with a worried look on his face. "They're going to shoot both of us!"

  Henry wanted to punch him. Instead, he came up with the only solution he could think of.

  "All right. I'll take you to it," Henry told Franco. "We need to go to the Corner Store."

  Chum looked relieved and surprised at the same time.

  "This better not be another game," Franco threatened.

  "It's not," Henry assured him. "Let's go."

  The men climbed back inside the pickup truck the same way they had arrived. Henry wondered how Claire was doing back at the house and if he'd ever see her again. All he could do right now was remain calm and keep his racing heart under control. He knew there was no way out of this train wreck alive if he didn't continue to think straight.

  Less than ten minutes later they arrived at the closed convenience store. Rafael parked the truck parallel to the front door. It was now one thirty in the morning. The entire area was quiet except for the occasional sound of highway noise.

  Henry unlocked the front door to the store and began to enter before Franco stopped him.

  "Rafael will go first," Franco told him. Henry stepped aside to let Rafael through and then entered himself.

  "No alarm?" Franco asked.

  "Do you hear anything?" Henry avoided answering the question.

  "Unusual for a store," Franco observed. He looked around for signs of a trap.

  "No money kept here. Just food and beer," Henry explained. He knew bringing them to the Corner Store was his only hope of making it out of this situation. But Henry would need some help from Chum to turn the tables.

  "So where's my stuff?" Franco asked. "I'm getting tired of asking the question."

  "I need to get the key for the walk-in cooler," Henry said as he began to walk behind the counter. Franco followed with his gun drawn in his left hand even though there was barely enough room for both men in such a tight area. Rafael and Chum moved to the back corner of the building, near the cooler. Henry grabbed the key ring off the nail behind the counter next to the telephone and radio. As he did this he knew the next five seconds would be his only hope.

  "Ok," Henry said, and what he was hoping would happen, did. One brief moment with his guard down was all Henry needed from the armed man. Franco made a half-turn to exit the tight space. This exposed his back to Henry when he should've been keeping an eye on him by walking backwards. Henry considered trying to knock Franco out with a punch to the back of the head, but feared the effort would fail. Instead, he made one swift move to get the gun out of Franco's left hand as he was completing his turn. The firearm was, after all, a much greater threat than Franco. Although he wasn't the fist-fighting type, Henry liked his chances against his captor, one-on-one. He put his hands together and swung both arms with all the strength he had. He slammed Franco's left arm against the gunman’s body, bashing the weapon from his grasp. Reacting a split second too late, Franco turned in time to take another double-armed swing from Henry to the face and side of the head. The force sent Franco's head into the counter as his face kissed the metal cash register and flattened him to the floor with a thump. He wasn't completely unconscious, but dazed enough to give Henry time to grab Franco's gun from the floor and Bruce's from under the counter.

  The commotion sent Rafael into a panic, causing him to hesitate. This enabled Chum to lower his shoulder and tackle Rafael against the walk-in cooler door. But the struggle was going to be a tough one to win, even for a scrappy guy like Chum. Rafael was armed, which meant Chum would have to hold the gun off while defending himself from Rafael's other fisted hand.

  Not expecting him to last long in the fight, Henry darted to the other side of the store to help Chum while Franco remained on the floor, nursing a headache. As he did this a shot rang out through the store, but the brawl continued. Henry assumed it was errant gunfire caused by the combat. He reached the tussle with both guns drawn on Rafael, who was still on the bottom.

  "That's it! It's over! Drop the gun!" Henry shouted. Rafael's eyes bugged out of his head when he realized what was happening. The hand holding the gun immediately went limp. Chum pulled the gun away and stood up, holding it on his attacker.

  "Don't pull that trigger," Henry told him.

  "Why? He killed Marty and damn near killed my wife!" Chum protested, still catching his breath.

  "Because I work here and I don't want to have to clean up the mess." It was a terrible answer, but Henry didn't have time for philosophical justifications. "There's some twine in the storage closet. Tie him up and get him in the cooler. I'll do the same with Franco. The cops are on their way."

  Chum didn't question anything. Not even whether the drugs or money were actually in the cooler. Henry kept the gun tight on Rafael while he reached down and found the truck keys inside his jacket. He placed them in his front jeans pocket. Chum helped tie both men up and drag them inside the ten by ten refrigerator. Less than five minutes had passed since the four men first walked into the store. Henry was expecting the police to arrive at any moment.

  "So, now we just wait for the cops?" Chum asked.

  "Yeah," Henry said. "Grab me one of those Gatorades over there, will you?"

  Chum turned and walked to a shelf near the corner of the cooler. He tucked the gun in the back of his jeans.

  "What flavor? Grape, Blue, or—"

  Chum was unable to finish his sentence. Henry had approached him in silence from behind and began administering a blood choke. Within seconds, Chum pas
sed out and was lying on the cold floor near the other two criminals. The choke hold was the only tactic Henry remembered from a two-week self-defense course he took during an interim period in college. The unconsciousness would only last a few seconds, so Henry knew he needed to act fast. He took the gun from Chum's waistband, left the cooler, closed the door, and locked it, leaving the key in the lock.

  As he ran out the front door of the store, Henry could hear Chum pounding on the cooler door from the inside. A piercing blare of sirens was coming from the highway. Henry got in the truck, turned the key, and stormed off heading west, back to the Chumansky property. He wasn't sure what was going through Chum's mind after they had tied up Franco and Rafael, but Henry had no interest in spending another minute trusting him. Not after he had tried to get Henry killed. At this point, he didn't care about anything other than getting back to the house and helping Claire to safety.

  The night was black on the winding country roads of Gable. Henry kept the high beams on to compensate for the darkness. Taking the curves at top speed, he used both lanes and the shoulder to help keep the truck on the road and out of the ditch. Henry prayed there was nobody else out for a late night drive.

  By the time he approached the driveway he had formulated most of his next plan. He didn't have any time to waste and, just like the ambush he orchestrated at the Corner Store, there was only one shot at getting it right. This time he would have no help. Not from another man, anyway, since Fast Eddie was currently "Slow Eddie" at best, and more than likely passed out from the pain.

  As he turned off the highway onto the gravel drive, Henry saw Chum's dogs, Millie and Hazel, bouncing in his direction. They hadn't been seen or heard from since Chum let them out the back door when Henry and Claire arrived at the house. Henry assumed they had found something more interesting to do for the past several hours.

  Better late than never, you two, he thought.

  IX

  When he reached his house, Henry parked the truck next to the side door, jumped out, and raced inside. First, he grabbed a broom and a mop from the kitchen pantry. Then he dug out two bricks from the landscaping around the concrete steps outside. Millie and Hazel weren’t much help, as the happy-go-lucky dogs pounced on him the same way they had the day he met Chum. He placed all the items in the cab of the truck and drove towards Chum's large house, where Claire and the others were still held captive. Instead of using the gravel driveway Henry kept the vehicle on the grassy field, hoping to keep his arrival silent. When he was approximately forty yards from the house, he shifted the truck into park but kept it running. He hoped the gurgling of the engine was not audible from inside the large house. Even if it was, Henry figured the two goons wouldn't budge after witnessing their coworker getting gunned down for questioning Franco.

  He took the broom and mop and used their long, straight handles to stabilize the steering wheel in a straight-ahead position. Henry had seen this done on TV shows, but he wasn't sure how realistic it was to expect it to work in real life. The truck was facing the right front side of the house away from Claire and the rest, assuming they were still in the same place he’d left them.

  Henry had gone over several plans in his mind during the speedy drive back to the farm. He’d considered parking the truck a hundred yards out and laying a brick on the horn. But Henry knew this wasn't foolproof. If it failed, the two creeps guarding the others would know something was wrong. God knows what they might do to wipe their trail clean. He thought about using the simple approach of walking in the front door with two guns drawn to see what they would do. Once again, though, Henry didn't feel good about the possibilities. Especially if bullets started flying. There were too many innocent, unarmed people in the house. He knew he needed to take these thugs by surprise, and the best way to do it was with some good old-fashioned misdirection.

  Henry didn't like the idea of jumping out of a moving truck, so a brick and some large sticks would have to do the trick. But there was still one problem. He needed to figure out a way to shift the automatic transmission from neutral to drive while the accelerator remained floored. This would not be an easy task. While conducting a couple of tests, Henry discovered the gearshift was close enough to the steering wheel that he could make the move by sticking his arm in and pulling it out before the truck took off on its own.

  After reassuring himself everything was ready, Henry proceeded with his ruse. He put the pickup in neutral and laid a brick on the accelerator. The vehicle revved up but went nowhere. The RPM needle bounced inside the gauge like a flopping fish out of water. With one swift move, Henry flipped the gear into drive and pulled his arm out. The truck immediately took off on a beeline for the front of Chum's house. Henry bolted behind it as fast as his legs would carry him.

  #

  The scene inside the Chumansky house remained the same as it had been more than an hour ago. Claire and Maddison sat next to each other on the sofa. Next to Maddison was Eddie, half lying down, half sitting up. His entire left pant leg was drenched in blood, and he was barely conscious. None of them had spoken a word since the other men had left.

  The two Hispanic men in charge of watching them were hovering near the sofa, taking turns pacing in and out of the room. They spoke in Spanish to each other often, and it was clear to the prisoners that their patience was wearing thin. The longer Franco and Rafael were gone, the more intense their conversations became. At one point they raised their voices at each other, possibly in disagreement about how to proceed if their superiors did not return soon.

  The last thing anyone in the house expected at that moment was a truck driving through the front door. Drywall, wood, and bricks went flying everywhere as a wall of the house caved in from the force of the pickup truck ramming through the doorway before settling in the foyer. The instantaneous demolition caught everyone off guard. They were too stunned to react. The sound was nowhere near as disturbing as the jaw-dropping experience of watching the destruction take place. Even Maddison could only look on in shock.

  "¿Qué demonios pasó?" one of the men screamed.

  "¡Es la camióneta de Rafael!" the other man responded.

  The men turned their backs on the couch and began investigating the truck, guns drawn. Millie and Hazel began barking outside. Debris covered the windshield and driver's side window. One of the men began brushing it off to have a closer look inside.

  From the back hallway, visible only to his friends on the couch, Henry appeared at the same moment the two goons turned to examine the truck. Maddison and Claire both noticed him but did not say a word. Instead, they indicated that it was safe for him to enter the room. Before doing so, Henry removed his shoes. He walked past the three on the couch and motioned for them to be quiet and stay put. He held a gun in each hand. The third one was tucked in the back of his jeans, out of sight.

  Henry felt like John McClane in the movie Die Hard even though he knew he was far from it. People will do crazy things to survive. He already knew this from recent personal experience. He moved silently as the two men continued to ramble at each other in Spanish. Henry kept his approach angled in the shadows so that when either man changed his position or turned his head, he would remain out of their line of sight.

  By the time the two men were finally able to look inside the truck cab and discover there was no one inside, Henry was right behind them. He placed a gun barrel against the back of each of their heads.

  "Don't move," Henry commanded. Neither of them did. But one of them spoke.

  "Shit," he said.

  "Good, you know English. Drop your guns to the floor. Now." Henry was firm and hostile on the outside. On the inside he was nervous as hell that one of the guys would make a move. Killing someone was not something Henry wanted to add to his résumé tonight.

  Both men let their guns fall to the floor. Henry kept his guns pressed against the two men's heads.

  "Claire! Maddison! Come grab these guns!" he instructed without turning around. Both women darted fro
m the couch and picked up the firearms.

  "What happened?" Claire asked him.

  "Where's Tom?" Maddison asked in a panic.

  Henry kept his guns in position and didn't turn his head to look at either one of them.

  "He's fine. I'll tell you everything. But first you need to get something for us to tie these two assholes up with."

  Maddison found some four-inch duct tape and called for an ambulance at the same time. Henry marched the men against a wall and forced them to sit on the floor. Then the ladies helped him bind the men at the wrists and ankles. When they were finished, Henry put his shoes back on and gave a limited overview of the events that had taken place at the farmhouse and store.

  "We ended up luring them to the Corner Store, where we were able to ambush them," he explained, skipping over all the other details. He didn't think getting into Chum's questionable behavior or the fact that Henry had locked him in the cooler with the other two would be a good idea right now. He also didn't have the time for it.

  "So then where is my husband? I missed that part," Maddison asked sarcastically.

  "Sorry," Henry responded. "He's at the Corner Store waiting for the cops."

  As far as Henry was concerned, this was the absolute truth, if not the whole truth. He was thankful she didn't ask more questions.

  "I need a drink," Maddison declared, and began heading for the kitchen.

  "Before you do that," Henry said, "I need to run back to my house."

  "Why? What for?" Claire asked. She stepped forward and placed her hand on Henry's chest.

  "It's a long story," he said, avoiding an actual answer. "I'm going to leave you with these." Henry handed each woman a gun. He leaned in to them and whispered. "If either of them tries anything, just shoot him in the leg," he said.

  "I don't know that I can shoot someone," Claire said with a worried look.

  "If you had to, I bet you could," Henry assured her, still whispering. "But I don't think you'll need to worry about it." He smiled and grabbed her empty hand. "The police and ambulance should be here soon. You're going to be fine," Henry told her. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. Releasing her hand, he turned toward the front door before realizing his error.