Eldorado

by Jay Allan Storey

  The Black Cherry

  “You’ll have to explain to me exactly what you have in mind,” said Keller as they approached his RV. “Are you planning to drill for oil on my property?”

  “Funny you should put it that way,” laughed Richard.

  Both Keller and Carrie stared at him as if they thought he was losing it.

  “Is it possible the fall off the roof did more damage than I first thought?” said Keller. “You’re not making much sense.”

  They parked their bikes and dismounted. Zonk trotted up to Richard, who affectionately scratched his head.

  “Remember you were saying that the previous owner had a stash of gasoline buried somewhere on this property?” Richard said.

  “Yeah,” said Keller. “That was the rumour. But that’s no use to us. Like I told you, the old guy croaked before he could tell me where it was.”

  “Well,” said Richard, “I might have found us a secret weapon.”

  “Really,” said Keller. Both he and Carrie were giving him that look again. All through the conversation, Richard had been scratching Zonk’s head. He finally turned to the dog,

  “Zonk,” he said. “Come with me.”

  Carrie and Keller shrugged at each other. Carrie turned to Keller and made a walking motion with the fingers of her right hand, as if to say 'Should I go and get him?' Keller shrugged again, but finally shook his head.

  Richard led Zonk out into the center of Keller’s property, stopping at a point midway between the RV and the shed. He gave a goofy smile at his two companions, then leaned down at Zonk and said, “Zonk – Eldorado!”

  Keller and Carrie watched stunned as Zonk jumped up and began moving, as before, in a tight circle, alternately jumping and sniffing at the ground. He turned several times, letting out the occasional yelp or bark as he moved.

  “What the hell is he doing?” said Keller. “Is there something wrong with him?”

  Richard pushed his hand down in a motion for them both to be quiet. Within seconds Zonk had completed his dance and found a scent. He moved off, his nose intently sweeping the earth. He reached a nondescript spot in the middle of the property, ten or twelve yards west of the RV, and began pointing his snout repeatedly at the ground.

  “Is he having some kind of fit or something?” whispered Keller.

  Richard laughed and clapped his hands together. He ran over to the spot Zonk was indicating and crouched down beside him.

  “Good dog, Zonk. Good boy!” he laughed, scratching Zonk’s head and hugging him.

  “Okay,” said Keller. “I think it’s time you told us what the hell’s going on.”

  Richard explained Zonk’s almost magical ability to his astonished companions.

  “So, what you’re saying is,” said Keller, “that in a few seconds your dog here has found the stash of gasoline I’ve been searching for all these years.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “Got a shovel?”

  The three of them took turns digging at the spot Zonk had indicated. Richard was taking his turn when, at a depth of about three feet, his shovel struck something solid.

  “Careful,” said Keller. “If it is the gas, we don’t want to break the container.”

  “So you believe me now?”

  “Let’s just say I’m open to the possibility.”

  Within minutes, Richard had uncovered a large, red, plastic container about two feet high. He carefully removed the dirt around it until it was free and clear. He and Carrie jumped into the hole and Richard inspected the container before trying to lift it.

  “It’s hardly deteriorated at all,” he said, running his hand over the plastic shell.

  “That kind of material tends to deteriorate in sunlight,” suggested Keller, “It would probably last a long time buried underground. Try lifting it. Is there anything in it?”

  Richard grabbed the handle at the top, and rocked it back and forth.

  “It’s not empty,” he said. “In fact, I’d say it’s pretty much full.” He unscrewed the black plastic cap and bent down to smell the contents.

  “Gasoline – must be five or ten gallons of the stuff.”

  “Great God Almighty,” whispered Keller. He gaped open-mouthed over at Zonk, who sat at the edge of the hole panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, the usual otherworldly expression on his face.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Keller yelled. “Let’s gas up the old girl and get this show on the road!”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” said Richard.

  “I’ve only got one condition,” said Keller.

  “What’s that?”

  “I get to drive,” he said, beaming.

  Between the three of them they managed to haul the container of gasoline over to the shed where the ancient vehicle stood. On the way, Richard explained what he knew about Danny’s discovery, and Crack’s interest in it.

  “Incredible,” said Keller, shaking his head. “So Zonk has been the center of all this all along.”

  “Of course you realize,” said Keller when they reached the car, “this car hasn’t been driven more than a few yards in something like sixty years. Just because we’ve got gasoline doesn’t necessarily mean we can actually go anywhere. It might go for a few blocks then fall apart.”

  “With you as the mechanic?” said Carrie. “No way.”

  “I thank you for your vote of confidence,” laughed Keller. “I just hope you won’t be disappointed.”

  It took both Richard and Carrie to lift the container up high enough to pour the precious liquid into the tank. Richard was almost overpowered by the heady odour of gasoline fumes as they poured. It brought back the image of Crack inhaling the fumes from the rag at the compound. The image made him shudder. In a few minutes they had emptied the entire container into the gas-tank. Richard ceremoniously handed the gas cap to Keller, who, equally ceremoniously, screwed it back on.

  “We should think about what supplies we need,” said Richard. “Jim,” he said, turning to Keller, “How about tools, in case we have a breakdown?”

  “I’ll throw in some wrenches and screwdrivers,” said Keller. “We better pray we don’t need any parts – or even tires for that matter. With this car, what you see is pretty much what you get.”

  “Have you got any food we can take along?”

  “There’s some bread and some biscuits in the RV. In the cupboard above where the stove used to be.”

  “I’ll get them,” offered Carrie, and she headed toward the door of the shed.

  Keller called after her, “And there’s some dried meat in the cupboard just to the right of that one – might as well grab that as well.”

  “Sure,” called Carrie as she left.

  “We’d better take the bikes, too,” said Richard. “In case the beast breaks down and we can’t fix it. Do you think they’d all fit in the trunk?”

  “Are you kidding?” laughed Keller, “You could fit one of our modern cars into this trunk!”

  Richard headed over to where they had parked the bikes, grabbed two and began to wheel them, one in each hand, toward the shed. About halfway he saw Carrie emerge from Keller’s RV with a bag of food. He stopped and watched as she stepped confidently from the bottom stair.

  He stood holding the bikes and waited for her to catch up. She smiled as she approached, and they walked together.

  “Is it true - what Keller said back there?” he asked her.

  “Is what true?” she answered, though she knew exactly what he meant.

  He felt warmth rising to his cheeks. “How you feel about me…”

  She stopped and turned to him. “Do you want it to be true?”

  “More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

  Richard let go of both bikes and took her in his arms, so that she almost dropped her package.

  He looked into her eyes. “There’s only one thing that scares me about what we�
��re about to do. It’s not the wild dogs or the bandits or tackling Crack and his gang – it’s the thought that now that I finally found you I could lose you again.”

  “You’ll never lose me,” she whispered. “No matter what happens.”

  “Where the hell have you two been?” Keller said as they returned. “This is no time for ‘lovey-dovey’,” he joked, guessing what had delayed them. “This is a momentous occasion. You realize we’ll probably be the first people to hit the road in a Galaxie in something like fifty years?”

  Richard manhandled the bikes into the massive trunk. As Keller had predicted, they fit with plenty of room to spare. He headed out the door for the third bike, as Carrie loaded the food into the back seat, and Keller opened the heavy sliding door to allow the car to pass through.

  Richard had grabbed the bike and was wheeling it back when he heard a faint whine in the distance. He jumped on the bike and rode it quickly to the car. Keller sat behind the wheel. Carrie stood by the open passenger door with Zonk beside her.

  “Can you hear that?” Richard said.

  “What?” said Keller. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Sounds like a motorbike,” said Richard. “It could be the cops, or…”

  Keller yelled, “Get that bike in the trunk and jump in. I’m going to try to start her up.”

  The Road to Surrey

  Richard quickly tossed the bike in the trunk with the others. Keller turned the key, and the Black Cherry roared to life. Zonk jumped back in shock.

  “She purrs like a kitten, don’t you think?” shouted Keller above the din.

  “If you say so,” Carrie shouted back.

  “Zonk,” Richard patted the back seat. Zonk hesitated, frightened by all the noise.

  “Come on, Zonk!” shouted Richard. “This is no time to screw around.” He hopped in himself and patted the cushion beside him. After a few seconds of whining and hesitation, Zonk finally jumped up next to him. Carrie climbed into the front beside Keller and slammed the door shut.

  “Let’s go!” Richard said.

  Keller gunned the engine. The giant car jumped forward, but suddenly stopped and the engine went dead.

  “What was that?” said Richard.

  “Sorry,” answered Keller, “I haven't driven a car with a standard transmission for more than thirty years.”

  “Great,” said Richard under his breath.

  Keller twisted the key and the car started again immediately. The engine roared as he pressed the gas pedal to the floor. He let go of the clutch and the car gave a massive leap forward, tossing them all half out of their seats. They lurched ahead, stopping and starting, as Keller fought desperately to master the clutch mechanism. Up the road to their left in the distance two motorcycles appeared, headed straight for them. It was clear from the way they were dressed that it wasn’t the police.

  “What are they doing here?” yelled Keller over his shoulder.

  “Damned if I know,” answered Richard. “Crack was desperate to get Zonk back. He sent some guys out looking for him. I guess they finally caught up with him – I hope you’re going to get the hang of this transmission pretty soon.”

  Keller was sweating, wrestling with the lurching vehicle. The engine alternately roared and approached stalling as he tried to get a feel for the clutch. The bikes were almost on top of them. One of them pulled a gun out of his belt.

  “Keep your heads down!” Richard yelled. They all ducked, as several bullets whizzed overhead.

  The bikes were within fifty yards when the car finally took one last jump forward and continued on at a decent pace. The Black Cherry tore up the dirt road leading to the right and out of Keller’s property, sending out a spray of loose gravel. Keller was clearly gaining control and shifted to a higher gear with little of the usual lurching. They sped up but still couldn’t outrun the bikes.

  “Use the gun,” Keller yelled back to Richard, passing him a large revolver.

  Richard fumbled with the gun and flipped the safety. He peeked carefully above the back seat and folded convertible-top and swallowed hard. The bikers were within ten yards of the car. A bullet spun past his head tearing a hole in the fabric of the convertible-top.

  He sighted down the barrel of the gun at the closest biker and pulled the trigger. The gun fired, throwing his arm back and half-deafening him. He missed, but the rider, spooked by the shot, swerved and almost crashed into his partner. The two stayed on their bikes but lost ground to the car, which Keller was finally driving with some kind of confidence.

  Richard got ready to fire again. The riders both assumed a weaving motion, but were still gaining on the car. The curves in the road got tighter; Keller couldn’t maintain his speed. Richard glanced ahead. They were approaching a tight turn.

  We’re done for, he thought, as Keller was forced to slow to less than half their former speed. The riders would be on top of them in seconds. Bullets continued to spin over their heads. Richard didn’t even have a chance to fire back.

  Suddenly Zonk jumped up and climbed over the folded convertible top and up onto the trunk of the car. The wind blew back the fur around his face as he stood shakily, his clawed feet squeaking on the smooth metal surface.

  “Zonk,” Richard screamed. “Get back down here. What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

  Ignoring Richard’s pleading Zonk stepped gingerly toward the back. The shooting stopped, as the bikers were apparently petrified of hitting the precious animal. Almost immediately Zonk began to slide off the trunk and finally leapt to the ground. The car was moving slowly. He landed in some soft grass on the shoulder. Richard sat with his mouth open.

  The closest biker swerved to intercept the dog and cut off his escape. Zonk yelped and changed direction, trying to run around his flank. The rider gunned his bike and twisted in a tight circle, cutting him off again. His partner moved up and they tried to trap Zonk between them. Richard took aim at the first biker and fired.

  This time it was a hit – his target winced and grabbed at his arm. His bike accelerated, slid into a patch of loose gravel, then drifted sideways into a ditch at the side of the road.

  Zonk bounded into a stand of young poplars that lined the roadway, and the remaining biker turned to chase after him. Apparently Crack had impressed on them how important it was to bring back the dog.

  “What happened?” yelled Keller.

  “That dog’s insane!” said Richard. “He just jumped up and dove out of the car. I can’t believe it!”

  “He must have been scared by all the gunfire,” said Keller. “Is he okay? Do you want me to try to go back for him?”

  “He was okay after the jump,” said Richard. “He ran off into the woods. No, we can’t afford to go after him. He’ll have to fend for himself. I hope he’ll be okay.”

  “Something tells me that dog can take care of himself,” said Keller. “What about the bikers?”

  “One’s either hurt or dead. The other one’s gone. I guess Zonk is more important to them than we are. Stop for a minute – I want to go and check.”

  “Are you sure?” said Keller.

  “He’s the enemy, but he’s still a human being. His partner took off – nobody else is going to help him.”

  “You’re still a sentimental greenhorn after all,” said Keller, “but it’s your call.”

  “Be careful,” Carrie called after him. “Wait – I’ll come with you.”

  Richard kept the gun drawn as they approached the motionless form of the biker. As they drew closer, it was obvious they had nothing to fear. Their attacker had been thrown from his bike and his head had struck a large rock. What was left was a mess; there was no question of him ever being a threat to them again. Richard turned away.

  “Are you alright?” said Carrie.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just never killed anybody before.”

  Carrie squeezed his hand.

  “Let’s check the bike,” she said suddenly.

  “Why?”
<
br />   “Well, you never know,” she smiled, “it might come in handy.”

  They walked over to where the motorcycle lay on the ground. The back wheel still turned slowly, and wisps of smoke still trailed up from the engine. Carrie squatted down and examined it.

  “It’s not all that badly damaged,” she said. She walked around and hauled the bike upright by the handlebars.

  “It’s a cop bike – a Mosquito,” she said matter-of-factly. “Wow – they’re even stealing from the cops.”

  To Richard’s surprise, she climbed astride the bike, turned one of the handles, and started kicking at the starter pedal.

  “I don’t see what use it can be to us,” he said. “I’ve ridden a scooter a few times, but I’m not much good on a motorbike.”

  “Ah…” said Carrie, turning her face up to him with a sly smile. “But I am…” At that exact moment the bike’s engine surged to life. Richard stared slack-jawed as Carrie gunned the accelerator and took off up the road at full speed, throwing out a huge cloud of dust. He gaped at Keller, who was laughing.

  “You don’t know that woman at all, do you!” he yelled.

  “I guess not,” said Richard, half to himself.

  Carrie came screaming back and made a sideways drift to stop within a few feet of where Richard stood, spraying his shoes with gravel.

  “It’s pretty gutless,” she said, brushing back her hair, “but it runs well enough. No wonder the Cops don’t like to go to Surrey – I wouldn’t want to ride very far on this thing.”

  “Let’s take it with us,” said Richard.

  They hunted the area around the fallen biker and found his gun, and with some careful re-arrangement managed to pack both the bicycles and the Mosquito into the vast trunk of the Black Cherry. As they headed out Carrie turned back and took Richard’s hand, shouting above the roar of the engine,

  “Remember before back at Jim’s place when I said I didn’t think Zonk was good for anything?”

  Richard nodded.

  “Well – I take it back,” she said, smiling.

  Lacy has a Visitor

  Lacy awoke with a start – and with the distinct feeling that something had disturbed her. She froze in terror for a moment imagining Frank and Jun (who, of course, couldn’t be there, because they were both dead) showing up at the place again. She listened closely and definitely heard a sound this time. She got up and searched the room for any kind of weapon. She finally found a baseball bat in the bedroom closet, and gripped it tightly in both hands as she investigated.