“I’m still working a hunch, bear with me please.” I hopped up and walked over to one corner of the house and looked. They were there. A bundle of three braided copper wires all running from their grounding pole up over the eaves.
Victor was standing by the time I returned. “I told you they were there.”
“Sir, how large should grounding wires be for a standard lightning arrestor for a home?”
Gael’s eyes twinkled. “You know Monty, he has a good question. Did anyone ask you about grounding wires before?”
Victor shuffled over to the house where I’d found the wiring. “It should be one bundle making a loop across the ridge pole. Why do you ask?”
“Sir, your house has three wires bundled together. Three times the needed amount.”
I mentally started counting to twenty. Twelve went by and my concern grew. Come on dude. You can do this. Eighteen passed then nineteen…
The Professor spoke just before the timer chimed. “We grounded all the buildings on campus when Master Tesla set up his lab. We even did a few houses in town. This is one of them. I never noticed the amount of cabling till you mentioned it.”
“Did the work crew ground any other building in town, maybe secretly?” I presented the question in passing.
The Professor stood still and stared at the far away trees. “Oh, Gael. I know where it is.” He turned toward Gael with delight on his face. “We only did one building in town. Look under the old dormitory. The one they used for the indigent women back in the thirties. It’s not on campus. The Appalachian Bank building is what they call it now.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, Tesla carried a key to the women’s dormitory.
He was a Clydesdale in a dorm full of fillies.
**
After we parked Capri behind Gael’s house, I removed the distributor cap. I took a moment to breath in a deep lungful of fresh mountain air and admired the view. The beckoning red of the setting sun slipping behind the mountain ridge added a peaceful touch to my day.
Who could ask for more than breakfast with an electric churchwoman, meeting Mr. Dallas in a vintage smut shop, and taking tea with Professor Victor? Cool things were happening, it was great. I was fulfilled.
I was looking forward to a good night’s rest, and seriously considered skipping dinner. But I wasn’t the only person to consider. “You hungry?” I asked Gael.
“Ravenous,” she answered. “Let’s clean out the freezer of all those steaks and see if any of the neighbors want to join us.”
My stomach rumbled at the suggestion and I quickly changed gears. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can find a grill somewhere and do a pot of stone soup.”
“There’s a grill in my backyard. I’ll help you drag it over.”
Gael banged on some neighbors doors as I fired up the gas grill and lugged the last of the meat to my special spot under the tree.
A few minutes later, Gael strolled into the yard with a few stragglers. Introductions were made. It wasn’t long before a real block party was going. I was cook master. Steak, ribs, and an assortment of mountain game took turn sizzling under my careful hand.
I felt a part of the community. Like, I could contribute on a basic primal level.
“Gael, this was a great idea. We should do this every year,” I said to her as she refilled a serving platter.
“Blow up the town?” She laughed.
“Naw, I can skip that part.” I shoved another mouthful of venison into my mouth and mumbled as the juices ran down my chin. “The food might make it worth the effort though.”
Gael’s announcement about the army being right outside town, and ‘no it wasn’t a nuclear bomb’ brought cheers and backslaps all around.
Well after dark I extinguished the grill. Gael was saying good bye to the last of the revelers.
“I’m calling it a night.” I said as I checked the lock on the garage door.
Gael waved to the last guest. “I’m coming up too.”
I reached the top landing and turned the key.
Gael slipped into the apartment and set one of the candles on the counter. “I’m beat. Catch you in the morning.”
The sweet lullaby of my bed called. Sleep pulled me under as soon as I hit the pillow. It was deep like a coma. I remember a few broken dreams and how the smell of grilling meat kept tickling my nose.
I coughed a few times and as I did, my mind latched onto a nighttime sound I’d not heard since mom and I left the truck stop.
Angry shouts and gunfire chattered on the edge of a nightmare.
The smoke grew heavier and I coughed. An orange glow pulsed through my eyelids.
A crackle of lightning rippled, causing the garage to vibrate.
I was awake.
My dream was real.
I rolled to the floor grabbing Betsy in the process.
More lightning crackled and buzzed. The ozone around me charged.
Gael’s voice called from the other room. “Any time you’re ready, Rye. We need to get out of here.”
“I’m up.” My voice beat back against the rumbling building.
I could hear Gael’s Uzi spit another short burst. It was answered by another bolt of blue energy striking an outside wall. The whole apartment went bright, and just as quickly faded back to the same dull orange.
Smoke filled my lungs. “Are we leaving?”
“Yes. Get your kit. We’re out of here.” Gael’s calm voice pierced above the mayhem.
I grabbed Holly and the rest of my belt rig. “Meet me in the bathroom.”
“Roger that.” Gael’s pistol screamed another burst of bullets.
Quickly, I slipped on a pair of shoes and slung a rucksack over my shoulders. The smoke grew heavier, forcing me to crawl through the living space and wiggle into the bathroom.
Gael ran the shower and soaked towels.
While she worked, I pulled the closet door open and lifted the plywood panel covering the laundry chute to the car bay below. It would be tight for me, but Gael should go through pretty easy.
More lightning slammed the wooden structure.
“You first. I may not fit,” I said taking my small flashlight and pointing at the opening. “There’s a coal door under the work bench. Look there.”
Gael wrapped a wet towel around my head and scooted into the hole.
I slipped a pen-sized flashlight in her pocket and helped lower her down.
Hot air licked around the bathroom door.
“I’m down. Your turn,” Gael said a moment later.
“Heads up.” I dropped my bag and weapons belt, and then went in face first.
The garage was dark except for the soft glow of flames roaring under the upper eaves. I pulled out a second pen light and closed off most of the light with my other hand.
Smoke pooled along the upper joist, and small pockets of embers tumbled down through gaps in the flooring.
Gael was looking out a window. “They seem to be moving off.”
“They’ll be waiting out of sight, ready to pick us off. Check the chute. It opens under a bush, pull hard.”
My gun safe sat under a tarp next to the work bench. It wasn’t a big safe, only about fifty inches tall, but it was a fire-proof safe. My home was a goner, but maybe I could save what was in the big gray box. I’d not bolted it to the floor when I moved in. My laziness was going to pay dividends in the morning.
“Move over some,” I said and kicked at Gael’s legs.
The safe could take the fire. The dial-tumbler would not. I judged my distance and coiled my wet towel into a ring and placed it on the floor. I kicked a couple of short pieces of scrap wood alongside the towel as spacers.
Gael poked her head out from under the work bench. “Let’s go. What are you doing? Come-on Rye, we need to go.”
I reached over the top of the safe and pulled with all my might, rocking it forward. The three hundred pound behemoth fell with a thundering boom.
A choking cough gurgled from my
lungs. “I’m right behind you. Go, go, go.”
Chapter Seven
The fire on the upper-level of the garage apartment was at a full roar. Embers drifted skyward. The memory of brimstone-sermons consuming unrighteous sinners’ leapt to mind. A ghostly figure hovered above the ground in the distance.
A blue-shimmering aura rotated around Mother Mary, and crackling sparks boiled from her fingers. As Gael and I watched from the cover of a rhododendron bush, another burst of lightning shot from Mother Mary’s eyes and pierced the apartment.
I nudged Gael and pointed at the apparition. “This is way cool.”
“Glad you like it.” Gael pointed toward the neighbor’s house. “Go now.” She bolted like a jackrabbit.
I ran after her, and counted down the last ten steps to the next big tree.
A light rain left a misty-haze blanketed along ground, accentuating the lightning. Mother Mary’s shimmering image undulated like a beating heart.
Foliage rustled and burst into flames from a bolt of lightning striking above my head.
Enough of this crap. No more running. I took position behind the tree and drew both my pistols. Holly and Betsy were in my hands, jolts of anticipation pulsed up my arms.
I didn’t care. Mother Mary—Mary the electric fairy was gonna die. Nobody shoots lightening at me. Suck lead baby. Taking one bold step forward, I raised the pistols.
“Come on, kid. Time to go.” Gael ran into the darkness.
“But?” I watched Gael sprint through a neighbor’s yard. I sprang after her.
As if the night wasn’t bizarre enough, I heard music playing somewhere. What the heck? Why would Jagger be here, singing about hurricanes?
She broke left and started to cross the street.
My little voice screamed ‘crossfire…’
I grabbed Gael and shoved her hard. She fell to her knees deftly rolling into a prone position. I followed her to the ground.
The report of a rifle echoed through the neighborhood. Several more shots followed and specks of roadway erupted around us.
We belly crawled toward the curb and hunkered behind a parked car. Hiding behind the late model battle-tank sized Buick became my new favorite place. I caught my breath and took stock. Yep, all my parts were present and accounted for.
“Thanks, Rye.” Gael said as she slipped another magazine into her machine pistol. “Did you see where the shots came from?”
“Yeah, and ten bucks says I know who’s doing the shooting.”
I felt a bullet pierce the metal fender.
“We need to take her out,” Gael said. “It’s part of our job. You’re on the team.”
I nodded my head as I checked magazines. “Okay, on my lead. We’re going five houses down on this side of the street. She’s somewhere in the front yard.”
Gael reached out and grabbed my arm. “I knew your Grandfather. He was my first partner. I asked for you, Rye. Be careful, okay?”
An explosion rumbled behind us. My home burst skyward. Mother Mary floated in the distance still sending bolts of lightning into the structure.
I looked down the street and picked my route. “You’re around back. I’ll go up the street.”
She dashed off toward the backyard of the nearest home.
I picked the most concealed route, and then sprinted for the next parked car.
Round after round cracked and sliced through the air beside me. The boom of the sniper’s fire numbed my ears. I knew Blondie was on the other end of the rifle.
Not too fast Rye, I said to myself. You got to give Gael time to get into position.
I made another move forward, another sprint against the Norse Goddess.
“Halfway there,” I mumbled. The brick mailbox wasn’t much wider than I was. It was a poor choice and I knew it.
Hustle, hustle, another run.
I felt the tearing across my ribs. The fabric of my shirt and the rucksack pulled hard, spinning me around. Bang, bang—more bullets brushed the air beside me. The shock threw me to the ground. My head swam.
A big panel van loomed only a few feet ahead, offering concealment if not safety. I clawed my way along the soggy, leaf-filled gutter.
It was time to wait. I was the bait, and Gael was the snare. I hoped she came through soon.
Another bullet slammed into the van. I could smell gas pooling on the ground.
Come on, Gael.
The old gal delivered like a thirty-minute pizza—on time, hot, and rockin’.
Her toy gun was a wonderful sound. It belched a full magazine as I saw her outline inch around the porch.
I stuck my head around my van and saw the muzzle flashes and tracers pointing the way. Dang Gael, you brought tracers.
I charged from behind the van and took the chance Gael would send another burst distracting Blondie.
I could feel Blondie’s rifle search me out.
Bang, bang—Gael’s Uzi fired another cadence of bullets.
Blondie’s beautiful golden hair swung in a sexy pony tail. There was just enough light from the garage fire for me to see her attention slacken.
I ran, firing both pistols.
The scoped riffle bucked as a cartridge spit lead and fiery-breath toward me.
I kept shooting.
Bullet after bullet raced down Holly’s and Betsy’s barrels.
Bang—Blondie fired again.
Betsy was torn from my grip and clattered somewhere behind. My hand pulsed in pain.
I felt Holly’s slide lock back. She was empty.
I kept running.
Gael’s weapon was silent. I glimpsed her shadow merge with someone else’s.
Blondie’s rifle zeroed in on my chest.
I charged the last few steps and lunged.
Her shot went wide. My full weight slammed into her slim figure. The rifle clattered into the darkness.
With sucking breath, I came to a knee. My hands were empty. I’d dropped Holly somewhere in the grass.
Blondie nimbly rose to the balls of her feet and pulled a knife from her hip. The giant blade gave off an evil blue glow.
In another life, this woman would have been on the top of my list for other sorts of conquest. Tonight it was death.
She pressed forward and sliced at my face forcing me to retreat.
I tried to remain calm. “Is this were we do the introductions?”
“Introductions?” Blondie eased forward, knife poised. “I’ve shot at you before, at the school, right?”
I took a couple of extra steps backward to increase the distance between us. “Shot and missed, sweet cheeks.”
Blondie moved the knife back and forth. “I never miss.”
“Seems you don’t stay dead either?” I unfastened one of the buttons on my shirt.
“It’s important to follow the Lord. He will reward the righteous.”
Blondie was a lot more alluring when she didn’t talk.
“Sounds like small town cousin-lovin’ to me,” I said.
Her nostrils flared. A guttural sound emanated from deep within her chest. “We are the chosen. All sinners must be removed from the garden.”
“Garden? Are you coming on to me?”
She lunged.
“You’re out of quarters, sweat-cheeks. Game over.” I drew the derringer from the cord around my neck.
Pop, pop—two small caliber bullets left twin holes in the center of her forehead.
My Goddess’ knees buckled, and rivulets of red dribbled across her dimming eyes.
I stood transfixed. Blondie was my first, both times. I prayed she’d say dead.
I searched for Gael.
She was on the ground near the corner of the porch with her legs wrapped around a muscle-bound man. They were in some contorted position, and as Gael continued to squeeze, his eyeballs bulged and he gasped for breath.
Gael struck her palm to the flat of the man’s face. He quivered briefly, eyes rolled back into his head, and went unconscious.
“W
e need to go,” I said. “I don’t think Mother Mary saw us. If we’re going to get out of here, now’s the time.”
Gael unwrapped her legs from the man and zip-tied his wrist behind his back. “You take him. “I’ll get Blondie. I have a place to hide.”
I helped cuff Blondie and retrieved my pistols. “Can you carry her?”
“No. But you can. Let’s get out of the front yard first.” Gael started dragging Blondie around the corner of the house.
**
“I wondered where you got the clean clothes,” I said as I sipped a mug of rich coffee and stretched out on the chesterfield-leather couch. Fresh sweet-cream from the humming refrigerator smoothed the nutty blend. It was a couple hours past dawn and we were waiting for breakfast to finish cooking. I’d slept like a rock in the below-ground fortress.
The magnificent Dr. Gael Gale was playing with a whole card. Yeah, her house fell down, but the 1950’s fallout shelter hidden in the backyard was in pristine condition. It was movie star comfortable, with all the amenities.
The space was one large room serving as both living area and kitchen. A decorative wooden panel-wall ran along one length dividing off two small sleeping chambers. It reminded me of those Civil Defense movies all us school children watched. Only this shelter boasted a propane refrigerator, HiFi system with scores of records, an expansive wine collection with wet bar, and crystal chandelier.
Home and Garden magazine probably did the decorations. How else could such a small space ooze Hollywood Regency? Dr. Gael Gale’s tastes were expensive.
Gael sat across from me on the low-armed upholstered chair, and saluted with her mug. “You cannot expect a lady to run around saving the world in dirty clothes.”
“Touché.” I flexed my right hand trying to work out some of the kinks. The bruising wasn’t too bad. The warmth from the mug was helping.
“How’s the hand?” Gael asked.
It’s not broken. I got lucky.
She studied her coffee. “You sure it was simple luck?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the holes in your rucksack. You were lucky an awful lot last night,” she said.
What was she getting at? I’d been lucky. What business was it of hers?
Rye Ironstone: Mother Tesla's Death Ray Page 7