The Dead Peasants File

by L. Craig Harris

  “Did you grow up around here?” Christopher said, glancing over as they left town.

  “I'm from Joplin.”

  “Oh wow. Really.”

  “Yes, my boyhood home is not there anymore. The tornado leveled it down to the foundation.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, but not as sorry as the guy who was living there when it hit.”

  “I see.” Christopher drove for several more miles and Dillon didn't offer any more details. “So, did you go to church when you were growing up?”

  Dillon shook his head. “Not much. My old man was very patriotic, but we just didn't go to church. I think he and my mom fought about it, but she wouldn't go without him.” He looked over at Christopher. “So where did you grow up?”

  “East Texas. Near Tyler.” He grinned. “And we went to church every Sunday.”

  Dillon laughed politely and nodded.

  Christopher checked the rear-view mirror and took a deep breath. “I just want you to know I'm not going to preach to you – even though you are a captive audience for the next eighteen hours or so – but if you want to talk, I'm a good listener.”

  Dillon nodded. The men continued in silence for the next several miles. Sometime after they had crossed into Kansas, Dillon broke the silence. “I feel terrible about what happened the other night.”

  Christopher nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I mean, I had to kill a guy. I don't even know his name.” He looked at his hands. “I'm trained to kill someone if I have to, but I never thought I would. Never.”

  “But it was him or you. You just did what you had to do. Otherwise, he would have killed you.”

  “I wonder if he had a family.”

  Christopher shook his head. “Probably not.”

  “But that doesn't make it any better. A man is not supposed to take another man's life. It weighs on you. It eats at you.”

  Christopher drove in silence for several miles. “I know you feel guilty, but that guy came to your town to murder you. I want you to think of your wife and daughter. It's terrible what happened, but it wasn't your fault. That man chose to kill you and you stopped him.”

  Dillon nodded. “Thanks.” He sat for a long moment. “It was Jenny and Amy I was thinking of when they were chasing me through the store. I didn't want them to kill me because I didn't want to leave them.”

  Christopher checked the mirror. “Do you think Morgan will send someone else?”

  “Oh yes. There's no doubt in my mind they are going to hunt me down. I don't see any way out of this except that. I may kill one or two more of them, but eventually they're going to get me.”

  Christopher didn't respond. He sped up a little and kept moving.

  After a while, Dillon spoke again. “Why didn't your wife stay with you last night – if you don't mind me asking?”

  Christopher looked over at him. “She went to work for Morgan.”

  Dillon raised his eyebrows.

  Christopher continued. “It's a good job, but I couldn't stand the idea of her getting that tattoo on her forehead. It scares me and I just couldn't let it go.” He looked over at him. “I probably over-reacted, but to me, it's too symbolic of that company owning her.”

  “No, I completely agree with you. I don't think you're over-reacting at all. I think that company is pure evil and they do think they own us.” Dillon pointed to his own head. “Believe me, I plan to get this mark off as soon as we get back.”

  Christopher glanced over and laughed. “I think that would be a really good idea.”

  It was getting late in the afternoon. The sun had overtaken them and was now shining through the windshield. Christopher could feel his eyes growing tired from driving. He pulled over at a convenience store and filled up the car, using Rachel's credit card. When they got back in the car, Dillon took his turn driving. Christopher climbed into the passenger side and closed his eyes to rest them. Dillon drove in silence for several miles, then broke the quiet. “So, your wife left you because you didn't want her to go to work at Morgan?”

  Christopher nodded. “That's the long and short of it. I just couldn't stand the idea, but she wouldn't give in. So, after a week of fighting, she packed up the boys and the dog and moved in with her parents.”

  “Brutal.”

  “The church people don't know. I'm not sure what they would do if they knew we were separated. I'm afraid they might get rid of me, then I'd lose my family and my job.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe they would understand. Besides, if we can get the truth out about this company, no one would blame you.”

  Christopher hadn't thought about that. If they could expose Morgan for the evil empire it is, he could make everything right with his wife and his church. He just hoped Mr. Reed was willing to help them. He felt better knowing that Dillon seemed to be on board. He closed his eyes again and slept as they crossed into Colorado.

  Christopher had never seen Telluride. They had already driven through tall, snowcapped mountains to get there, but the town itself was beautiful to him. It was surrounded on three sides by high mountains. A waterfall was flowing high up the mountain that was straight behind the town, and the houses nestled right up to the side of the mountains on either side of them. A bike trail zig-zagged through the community and the buildings were old, rustic and nostalgic. Dillon pointed out a gondola lift that carried skiers up the side of the mountain and disappeared into the clouds. A girl in sweats jogged in front of them when they stopped at a sign. Her breath made steam in the frigid, early afternoon air. There were no traffic lights, except on the main drag, and only a few streets at all. People walking on the sidewalks maneuvered around piles of snow.

  “Well, if there is a hardware store here, we should be able to find it,” Dillon said, adjusting his coat.

  Christopher gripped the wheel. “Yep, we'll just cruise the streets and see what we can find.”

  They drove to the end of town and were about to turn to get on another street when they saw a building that said Morales Hardware. “Bingo,” Christopher said. “I'll bet that's the place.” He looked over at Dillon. “You ready?”

  The men parked and walked up to door. A sign in the window said the store was open. Christopher took a deep breath and he and Dillon went inside. The clerk stepped out from behind the counter and greeted them. “Hello.”

  Christopher stuck out his hand. “Howdy.”

  The man looked over Christopher's shoulder at Dillon. “Dillon McGee? Is that you?”

  Dillon stepped up beside Christopher and shook his hand. “Yep, it's me. How are you Travis?”

  “Well, I'm just fine.” He tilted his head. “You sure are a long way from home. Most folks don't visit here except in the summertime.”

  “We came to talk to you if that's okay,” Dillon said. “Let me introduce my friend Christopher to you. He's a preacher back in Springfield.”

  Travis interrupted him. “Well, if it's about a young lady, I never touched her.”

  Christopher laughed. “No, nothing like that.”

  “We want to talk to you about Morgan,” Dillon said.

  “Oh really?” He studied their faces for a moment. “I don't have anything good to say about them. I'll tell you that.”

  Christopher pointed to Dillon's bandaged ear and black eye. “They nearly got Dillon the other night.”

  Travis's eyes grew large. “Is that right? Is that a gunshot wound?”

  Dillon nodded. “Matt Douglas and one of his friends came after me. It got pretty serious.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Travis turned and looked at a group of rocking chairs that were set around an old gas heater in the center of the room. “Come on over here and take a load off. I'll make us some fresh coffee.”

  It was warm by the fire. Christopher let the steam from the coffee rise and heat his face before sipping the brew. Some of the strongest coffee he had ever tasted, but it was soothing to him. Above them hung old farm implements, pots, pans and a metal gri
nder of some sort. Probably corn. He figured the older men of the city came to this spot to discuss the problems of the world in the mornings. He leaned back in his rocker. “We've been talking to Phyllis Eastland and she said you might be able to help us.”

  Travis nodded. “Phyllis. I hadn't thought about her since I got out here.”

  “She said you told Ron that his name was on the list to be murdered by Morgan.” Christopher paused a moment. “She said you gave him the list.”

  Travis stared back at him for a second. “Yes, that's right.”

  Christopher reached into his pocket and brought out the thumb drive that had the Dead Peasants file on it. “We have the list right here.”

  “We were wondering if you would tell us where you got this,” Dillon said.

  Travis reached over and took the memory stick from Christopher. He uncapped it and studied it for a second. Then he recapped it and gave it back to him. “I've never seen this before.”

  “Travis must have copied the list onto it,” Christopher said. “But we were wondering if you would tell us how you got hold of the file.”

  “Of the list,” Dillon said.

  Travis looked at each man for a moment. “I have a friend who works at Corporate in Denver. He's a technician in the computer department. He's a network specialist who worked for me several years ago, then got the job in Denver.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Anyway, he saw the list one day last summer. He said it's computer-generated so that it stays completely random. At first he didn't know what it was, but he did a little snooping one afternoon and noticed that the people on the list had either died or were about to.”

  It startled Christopher when suddenly the door opened and its bell rang. A customer had come in the store. Travis stood to his feet and went and asked the man if he needed any help. After a few minutes, he checked out the customer and came back to join Christopher and Dillon by the fire.

  Travis took a sip of his coffee. “Now, where was I? Oh, Merrill, my friend in Denver started hacking into Morgan's emails.

  “You mean Charles Morgan?” Dillon said.

  “Yeah, the big boss,” Travis said. “Merrill knew he was on to something really serious. He knew that Charles himself was behind the deaths.”

  “Why would Charles murder his own workers?” Christopher said.

  “He's collecting their insurance benefit. Plain and simple. He's taking out corporate-owned life insurance on his highest-paid employees – which is pretty standard in big business – but he's making sure a certain number of them actually die. The insurance company is making plenty off Morgan with so many workers, but Charles is hedging his bets.” Travis leaned forward. “He's got some sort of formula. Merrill said maybe one worker out of five thousand has to die each year. Something like that. It's small enough so that the insurance company doesn't get too suspicious, but it's big enough that he's making a killing – pardon the expression – and driving his competition out of business by lowering his prices, using his new profit revenue.”

  “And all of the deaths have to look like accidents, I guess” Christopher said.

  “Except mine,” Dillon said. “He didn't care what it looked like when I got it.”

  Travis shrugged. “You weren't on the list. That was going to be just a little bonus for Morgan. If he doesn't like you, he'll take you out whether you have insurance or not.”

  “That's right. Joseph Wilson wasn't on the list,” Dillon said. “But Walter didn't like him because he was having an affair with a checker. There's no telling how many other people they've killed.”

  Travis rocked back. “Did they ever find his body?”

  Dillon shook his head.

  “So your friend Merrill told you about the list,” Christopher said.

  “Yes. He saw that Ron's name was on it so he called me and told me what he had found out. I tried to warn Ron, but he didn't believe it, so I got Merrill to send me a copy of the list and I emailed it to him. Then he knew it was real and tried to escape.” He pointed at the thumb drive. “I guess he made a copy and saved it to this flash drive.”

  Dillon got up and walked over to the coffee pot and poured some more into his cup. “But you kept working for Morgan until last month.”

  “I couldn't quit. I owed too many people too much money. I was scared to death, but I had no choice. Then, one day Julia said she couldn't stand it another day.” He threw up his hands. “She had had enough and said I had to quit. So, we packed up and moved out here.”

  Christopher knew exactly how she felt. “Do you remember my wife, Rachel Forrest?”

  “Rachel is your wife? Yes, I just hired her. I was very impressed by her.”

  Christopher could feel his cheeks turning red. “But how could you hire her knowing the company may murder her?”

  Travis shook his head. “No, she's not a manager. They won't take the insurance out on her.” He softened his voice. “I understand if you are upset with me, but I honestly didn't think about her being in harm's way.”

  “I'm not mad at you Travis,” Christopher said. “But we've got to stop this. We've got to stop Morgan from murdering Dillon and all of those innocent people out there who wind up on this list.”

  “I know,” Travis said. “I feel terrible about running away scared.” He shook his head. “I just didn't know what to do. I was alone.”

  “You're not alone anymore,” Christopher said. “We're going to help you. We just need to figure out what to do.”

  Another customer came into the store and Travis went to help him. After a few minutes he came back. “Dillon, did you ever meet my wife, Julia?”

  “I did. I met her at the Morgan Christmas parties.”

  “Good. There's no need for you guys to hang out here all afternoon. I'm going to call her and tell her you're coming over. I want you to stay at our house tonight.” He paused. “If one of you doesn't mind sleeping on the couch – I only have one spare room.”

  “I'll sleep on the couch,” Christopher said. “I've kind of gotten used to it lately.”

  Dillon smiled at him and nodded.

  Travis looked at his watch. “I'll close the place down at five. There's a nice restaurant I'd like to take you to tonight. Does that sound okay?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Christopher said. He got the directions from Travis and drove to their lime-colored home a few blocks away.

  Julia seemed nervous when she met the two travelers, but they won her over when she realized they hated Morgan as much as she did. She was glad to talk to someone from Missouri and the men caught her up – mostly – on what was happening there. She pressed Dillon to tell her what had happened to his ear and why they were there to talk to Travis. Dillon told her about the attack at the store. She stared at him and got quiet for a long moment. It clearly frightened her that they were there, but Christopher could tell she was trying to be brave.

  After a while, Christopher kicked off his shoes and asked her if he could put his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was Sunday afternoon, after all. She insisted and it wasn't long until he was making a buzzing sound.

  Later that night, the four of them ate at a Mexican restaurant in the middle of town. Christopher enjoyed the decor and the food even more. They talked about everything except their mission, getting to know each other and making friends. It turned freezing cold when the sun went behind the mountain and Christopher struggled to keep his feet warm.

  When they got back to the Reed's, they sat in the living area and continued talking. Julia made a pot of coffee and Christopher held his cup to his face, warming it in the chilly evening air. Sometime after nine, Julia excused herself for the night and left the three men sitting alone.

  “I'll tell you what I think we should do,” Travis said, setting his cup on the coffee table. “I should have done this last year. We should go to Denver and talk to Merrill Brandies.”

  Dillon tilted his head. “He's the guy who gave you the list, right?”

>   “Yes, that's right. He works at Corporate. If we could get him to testify to an attorney general or someone like that, we could get this ball rolling.”

  “How long has it been since you've talked to him?” Christopher said.

  Travis thought a minute. “Well, it's been a long time. I haven't talked to him since he gave me the list.”

  Christopher looked over at Dillon and back to Travis. “I hope he didn't get found out. Have you tried to talk to him?”

  “No.”

  “Can you call him?” Dillon said. “Do you have his number?”

  Travis shook his head. “I don't.” He adjusted his glasses. “I always called him at work. I'm sorry.”

  “No, it's okay. We'll just drive to Denver and see if he's there,” Christopher said. “If he is, we'll see if he will help us with this.”

  Dillon leaned forward. “And if he doesn't want to go, we'll kidnap him and take him anyway.”

  “And what if he's not there?” Travis said.

  Christopher sat a moment. “Well, we'll take this list to the local police station and see what they say.” He glanced over at Dillon. “All I know is we can't give up. They're hunting for Dillon right now, and if we don't do something, they're going to chase him down until – until they get him.”

  Dillon nodded slowly.

  “I say we leave first thing in the morning and get this over-with,” Travis said.

  Christopher looked over at Dillon. “Let's do it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Travis tried to console Julia Monday morning, but she begged him not to go. She said she was terrified at the thought of him driving to Denver and going into the corporate headquarters. “I don't want you going anywhere near Charles Morgan,” she said. “Dillon has already been attacked by them. They are murderers.”

  Julia, Travis and Dillon stood in her kitchen, waiting for Christopher to come back from gassing up the car. The men's suitcases were standing near the front door and Travis and Dillon were downing the last of their morning coffee.

  “What can go wrong?” Travis said. “I'm going with a Marine and a preacher. I'll be okay. I just want to talk to Merrill.” He took her shoulders in his hands. “I promise I'll be careful. But I promised God I would do something good with my life if he would get us off of that mountain. He did his part and now I have the chance to keep my promise.”