by Nova
“Any ideas on where I can get a ring?”
The spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. “What kind of ring?”
“An engagement ring.”
“Alright! Say, Gardener,” he lowered his voice, “what is Night going to say when she finds out you and Ninja are getting hitched?”
I choked on my oatmeal, swallowed some of my coffee, and then set the bowl down slowly on the porch deck. “No, asshole. I asked Night to marry me, and she said yes. I thought you might be able to help me…buddy.”
He stopped laughing and cleared his throat a little. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll ask around.”
“No problem,” I told him and rolled my eyes. I went it, said goodbye to Night, and told her to tell Max I was down at the range waiting for him.
I stopped by the trailer, stuffed twenty rounds in my pocket, and went on down to my practice area. The morning was cool for summertime in Virginia. The last few summers had been that way. We still had days when going outside and moving around was like swimming in a hot tub. But the summer was just not as hot as it used to be. Weird considering I had grown up listening to people talk about global warming.
I was working on weak-arm shooting. What I liked about the long barrel of the Colt was that it pointed well. At the same time the barrel length and weight were problems. My right arm didn’t have the same degree of muscle control and strength as my left.
Max came up behind me as I fired the last two rounds. I didn’t hear him but I felt him.
“Hey, Max.”
“Hey, Gardener. Ready to roll?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll be in the truck.”
I joined him about five minutes later. I didn’t rush my practices for anyone. He was waiting where he said he would be. We hit the road into town.
As we pulled onto the main road Max looked over at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. So you know I asked Night to marry me?”
“No! Congratulations! When is the big day?”
“We don’t know yet. I got to buy her a ring.”
“Ask Diesel. He probably knows someone.”
Max and I talked about different projects until we pulled into the station parking lot. Inside Diesel was waiting for us. Hawk had night shift and was home by now. Diesel came in early and covered for a couple hours until we came in. In turn, he got off earlier than I did, at least in theory.
Diesel went through what had happened during the night, as told to him by Hawk. “Not much. He was flagged down, and had to tell his cousin to shut the hell up. He lit up some people drinking in the park. They left and he didn’t pursue them. There is an RV parked at the diner—probably a sleepover, but we might want to check it out. Oh, and he saw a gray Honda Accord driving around town. He didn’t recognize the car or the driver, but he saw it twice, and that was from a distance each time.”
“Good. Good report. I’m going to try to find us some kind of communication equipment. You and Hawk have cells?”
“Hawk lost his a while back. I got one, but reception is worthless most of the time. What about y’all?”
“Naw. I’m going to see if I can find us some walkie-talkies. I got a meeting next week with some people from Homeland Security.”
Diesel snorted. “What do we need with those assholes?”
“We need them because they have all the cool toys. I don’t know if you noticed but we are a little short on hardware these days.”
“Yeah, Max, I understand, but don’t their toys come with strings attached?”
Max laughed. “Everything comes with strings attached. That doesn’t mean we can’t cut them. Don’t worry about it. Take the vehicle, gas it up, and run the town perimeter. Check out the RV. Then come on back, walk some streets, and get me some more block managers.”
“Alright.” I grabbed the keys off the hook and tossed them to Diesel. “You can drive.”
Max yelled at me as we left, “Tell Ninja when you see him I want the crow patches in black and silver for us.”
“It’s a raven.”
“Whatever—” and he waved us off.
We got into the car and Diesel asked, “Raven patches?”
“Yeah. You’ll see.” This was going be interesting. Would he qualify for a bird? I wondered.
“What do you want to do first?”
“I don’t know, Diesel. Let’s go check out the RV. Maybe they’ll be giving away free cookies to law enforcement.”
Shelli must have had Max drive her home late last night. The diner was open, and I could see her moving around inside. She waved at us. The RV was sitting in the diner parking lot, taking up two spaces, not that it was going to cause any problems. Nowadays for Shelli, four people coming in to eat at the same time was rush hour.
The RV looked okay, especially since it had to be fairly old. I had seen far worse on the roads. I think RV production in the states had stopped completely in ’08 or ’09.
“Too bad we can’t run the tags.”
I agreed. Even back when Max and I patrolled the motel area, we couldn’t run plates unless a real city cop was nearby with his car. The RV had current in-state tags. The windows were tinted, but I knew there were people inside. I could feel them.
I pushed open the patrol car door; it had a tendency to stick. “I’ll knock,” I told Diesel.
Damn. On the door was a USMC globe-and-anchor sticker. It was another one of Max’s fraternity brothers. I knocked on the door and stepped back and off center.
It opened quickly, almost like the guy had been waiting. He probably had been. He was turned sideways so I could not see his one hand. I did a quick DANGER hand sign to Diesel.
“Hello, Officer.” He was one gnarled, leathery, baldheaded old coot. Maybe five foot ten, a hundred seventy pounds. He didn’t have any shoes on. He was wearing a pair of running shorts and a blue T-shirt with Jesus Saves screened on it. On his left forearm was a tattoo that matched the door sticker.
“Sir, this is just a simple stranger check, but if you don’t drop whatever it is you’re holding behind you, I am going to shoot you dead. You have five seconds to decide.”
“Five . . . four . . .”
“Give it to me, Darrell, before the officer shoots you for being paranoid.”
The voice was female. It sounded like it had been cured in smoke and whiskey. I saw a white-haired little woman in a print dress appear behind him and take a heavy revolver back into the darkness of the interior. As she did, I heard her say, “Clear!” and gasp out a crackling laugh that ended in a coughing jag.
“Sir, your license and vehicle registration please.” I was glad I had watched lots of old Cops reruns when I was a kid. The training I received watching them sure had come in handy the past few years.
He slowly reached for his back pocket. “I am getting my wallet,” he said. “The registration is in the glove compartment.” He handed his license to me. As he turned, I glanced at it and tucked it in my shirt pocket, making a mental note to return it once we were done.
“Thank you, sir.”
He dug out the registration and was getting ready to hand it to me when the woman said, “Darn it, Dar. Ask the young man in, for Pete’s sake.”
I could tell he didn’t want to. “Why, thank you, ma’am.” I said, stepping up to the door.
He hesitantly moved aside. She was sitting at a table behind the driver’s area and door. A cup of coffee and a pack of real cigarettes were on the table in front of her.
“Come on in. Dar, step away from the door. He doesn’t want you behind him.”
The old guy mumbled something and moved back. He looked at me, sighed, and sat down at the table with her. He said, “Come on, sit down. Invite your partner in.”
Diesel came in. He didn’t sit. He just leaned against the driver’s seat, his arms crossed, and watched.
“So, you men want some real coffee and cookies?” We most certainly did.
“No, ma’am. That’s not necessary.” I had to say that. Prid
e made me say it, and I figured it was just people protocol. I would say No, ma’am. She would ask again and I would say yes. I was hoping I had guessed right.
She smiled and asked, “You sure?” I could hear the hint of humor and teasing in her voice when she did.
I replied, “Okay. Sounds good.” She had a deep, throaty chuckle. After my eyes had adjusted, I saw she was a couple of shades darker than her voice.
“Well, okay then.” She got up and poured Diesel and me each a cup of coffee and pulled a bag of real Chips Ahoy out of the cabinet. She laughed when she saw my eyes widen. “Yeah, I imagine they are tough to find outside the Zone.”
“Is that where y’all are coming from?”
“Yep. Getting out while the getting is good.” They started telling their story. Well, she did. He interrupted to ask a question about our community. Were we churched here? We were. What kind of church? I listed the churches I knew were open and he left it at that.
It was an interesting story. They were coming from the D.C. Zone. They had both retired from Homeland Security about two months ago. Now they were heading to Pennsylvania to a Born Again compound they had bought into. They had no problem telling me why they had left the Zone.
“The government has been taken in by Satan’s minions.” She paused for maximum effect while we took that in. “They are going to embed Satan’s mark in everyone who lives within the Zone!”
“No way!” I replied.
“Yes, way!”
Her husband added, “Plus, if you don’t, then you don’t eat.”
They went on some more about it. How it was going to be tied to your bank account, your labor card, your medical records.
“So when is this going to happen, and how come y’all know so much about it?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “It’s in the Bible.”
He smiled and said, “Our department was doing the logistics part of it. You know, the ordering and processing stuff.” She was nodding her head. He added, “It’s not going to be real popular. Give it a couple months and you are going to have a lot of people coming your way.”
“You think they will bring cookies?”
“I doubt it. Just trouble.”
We talked a few minutes more, gave them back their papers, and left them to continue on with our duties as guardians of the peace.
We took the squad car over to the gas station. Miss Edna had made arrangements so we could get gas without paying for it. I asked Diesel how she had managed that.
He replied, “Not a surprise, since she owns it.” That came in handy, I suppose.
We drove into town afterward to the “business district,” which was a stretch considering how few places were doing business. Once we found a shady place to leave the car, we parked and walked.
This, according to Max, was going to be part of our daily routine. Stop in and say hello. See if there were any problems. Talk about the weather and listen to whatever idle chitchat and gossip got served up. I let Diesel do most of the talking. He was good at it.
At one of the stores, an antiques place, he brought up that I was looking for a wedding ring. We had been talking to the old woman who owned the place, and she got all excited.
“Oh, yes! You must be fixing to finally marry that Asian girl of yours! Why, yes, I do have some rings you might like.” She disappeared behind the curtain that closed off the storage area from the main part of the store.
I looked at Diesel and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. Just another reminder that small towns are small worlds.
She reappeared a few minutes later with a tray. “I keep these in the safe. They’re the only real valuables I have now.”
I looked at them. Yep, they looked like wedding rings.
“Are you going to get an engagement ring also? This is a nice set.” She pointed to the one she meant. She must have seen the expression on my face. “That’s how it used to be done. You don’t need to do it that way if you don’t want to.”
I shrugged and looked at Diesel. He shrugged. They were pretty. They matched. They had lots of shiny diamonds. I didn’t see how I could go wrong.
“How much?”
“Oh, my. I don’t know. I mean, I know what we could have sold it for a few years ago.” She paused and her brow furrowed. “Hmm. Once upon a time, I would have sold it to you for five thousand dollars. I could let you have it for two and a half ounces of gold.”
We dickered back and forth. I ended up paying an ounce and a half. I had a one-ounce Canadian gold piece in my wallet that I dug out and gave her. It was funny. I set it on the countertop, and as far as Diesel and the old woman were concerned, it was all that existed in that moment. Gold really does have a power all its own. Diesel asked me if he could look at it.
“You’ve got to ask the lady. It’s hers now.”
She nodded, and he picked it up and held it in his palm for almost a minute. Then he set it down gently. “Damn. I didn’t know law enforcement paid so well.”
I laughed. “It doesn’t. I am a careful saver.”
We left the store. I was feeling pretty good. She wanted to let me take the rings, but I told her to hold on to them instead. I told her I would be by to pick them up in the next day or so. As I hit the door I turned back and asked her, “You have any CBs or walkie-talkies hidden away in here?”
“Hmm. I don’t think so, but I think my late husband had one. It should be in the garage.”
“If you can dig it out, we would appreciate it. If you know anyone who does have any, let them know we’re buying.”
She walked us to the door and waved as we left.
“So you decided to do it the old school way, huh?”
“Yeah. It seems like the right thing to do.”
Laughing, he said, “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I was getting ready to ask him if he was or had been married when we both saw it: the gray Honda Accord. It was sitting two blocks down and parked on the side of the road facing us.
“Foot or back for the vehicle?”
“Just keep walking.” We were almost at the corner, where a side street intersected Main Street. “We’re going to make a right here. I’m going to run parallel on the next street and see if I can walk up to him in his blind spot. I want you to head back to the vehicle and come in fast. Block him if you can.”
By then we had made the corner and were out of sight. “Go!” I yelled and started sprinting for the parallel street. As I did I pulled the Ruger. In no time I had hit the intersecting road that marked where he was.
I had a choice. Go down another block and come up behind him or pop out about twenty yards in front of him. I had been working it out in my head as I ran. I wanted to come up behind him, but I got the feeling I didn’t have time.
I went with my gut and I was right. The Honda was just finishing a U-turn. I wasn’t the only one who trusted his instincts. He must have sensed something, too.
I could hear Diesel roaring down the street behind me as the Honda accelerated. I stopped in the middle of the street and thought briefly about sending a round after him. It would have been pointless.
I holstered my weapon as Diesel pulled up next to me, the passenger door already open. I jumped in, pulled the Ruger, and set it between my legs as I buckled in. Diesel had already covered ten yards while I was doing this, and the Ford Crown Vic was just starting to gain momentum.
Whoever it was in front of us was not driving a factory issue Honda Accord. The car was pulling away from us with ease. That’s when the Crown Vic’s oil light came on.
“Fucking Ford piece of shit!” Diesel screamed, slamming the wheel and taking his foot off the gas as the engine made extremely unhappy sounds.
He looked over at me: “Go or no go?”
“No go.” I had no desire to walk five miles back to town after what would likely be a futile chase anyway. “See if you can nurse it back to the gas station or a garage.”
He started to turn the Ford around but couldn’t even do that before it died. He slammed the wheel again and yelled, “Shit,” to emphasize the point.
“Well, we learned one thing about whoever is driving that car,” I told him as I put my shoulder into the door to pop it open. Diesel was out of the car on his side. We looked at each other over the top of the cruiser and then down the empty road.
“Yeah. They’re not friendly.”
I nodded and grabbed my bag out of the back. Time to go find Max. Something was up. I could feel it.
We walked back to the station and found Max in the office sitting at the chief’s desk staring unhappily at a stack of paperwork. He brightened up a bit when he saw us.
“Hey. What’s up?”
We told him about the gray car. He grinned, swept the paperwork back to a corner of the desk, leaned back, and put his boots up on the desk. “So, tell me what you think is going on, Gardener.”
“Someone is watching us.”
“And you, Diesel?”
“Same. Seen it before.”
“Yeah, we have, haven’t we?” he replied pensively. “Going to have to do the same thing here that we did about it there.”
Max must have noticed I wasn’t following their shared unspoken conversation. “In the ’Stan,” he said, turning to me, “we saw the same pattern. Usually it was scouting before someone drove a car into our area with a load of explosives and a high-definition vision of naked virgins playing in his head.”
“Oh, yeah. That always puzzled me—the whole naked women thing. I thought a lot of those guys liked naked boys. Is there a separate heaven for them? Or do they spend eternity walking around, looking for the little skinny ones and asking them to roll over on their stomachs?”
That threw a wrench into their reminiscing. I think Diesel was having trouble parsing what I had just said.
Max laughed. “You’re going to have to ask the next mullah we run across that one, partner.”
“So, we go find them first and kill them?”
“Yep, Gardener. That’s what we need to do.”