-21-
The snow slowed considerably by the time the group got to the old prison.
Conditions were still rough. They could only tell they’d arrived by the pattern of the prison’s lights a hundred yards away from them.
Four powerful floodlights set upon poles twenty feet high and thirty feet apart. Two lights to mark the entryway and Sally port, set atop the guard shack and a little lower.
It was only when Marty eased his tractor into the parking lot and up to the guard shack that his headlights finally caught the sign out in front of the complex: EDEN SOUTH. The fact the sign was mostly covered by the new snowfall certainly did nothing to make it easier to see.
The guard, notified by radio of their arrival, opened the outer door to the Sally port so they could enter.
But Marty ignored the invitation.
“I’m going to drop you guys here. Would you tell Glenna I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and not to worry?”
Everyone else was caught off guard.
But they had a pretty good idea what their friend was up to.
Mayor Al wasn’t one to mince words.
“Marty, if you’re going after those men at the orphanage forget it. Nothing good will come of it.”
Marty smiled.
Al noticed it wasn’t a smile of happiness, nor of pleasure.
It had a tinge of something… almost evil in it.
Marty said, “It’ll make me feel a lot better. That’s something.”
“Look, Marty. We all agree the men at the orphanage are scumbags. But it’s not your problem to deal with. It’s not even in your jurisdiction. The orphanage is outside the city limits. It’s a county problem, and it comes under the jurisdiction of the county sheriff.”
“Bullshit, Al. The county sheriff closed up shop when the first freeze came. The sheriff’s office is no longer in business.”
“That doesn’t change the fact it’s out of your jurisdiction, Marty. You’re a city cop. Your responsibility ends at the city limit sign.”
“So you’re advocating doing nothing? Just letting them get away with sending those women out in the cold to die?”
The cab of the truck fell silent.
Richard Sears stated the obvious.
“We sent them into the cold to die too.”
Marty was stumped for an answer, but only momentarily.
“It’s not the same. We didn’t know they were going to die.”
“And perhaps the men at the orphanage didn’t either.”
He tried a different tact.
“Okay, if we all have to go to hell someday for sending those women away, then so be it. We deserve it.
“But I’m not letting those men get away with murdering the men and boys. Jurisdiction be damned.”
Still, nobody stirred. It was something of a standoff.
Al finally said, “Just sleep on it for a few days, Marty. I think after you cool off you’ll understand that if you go out of your jurisdiction and kill those men, that technically makes you a murderer.
“And that, my friend, makes you no better than they are.”
“I’m not going to see it any differently tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Those men need to pay for what they did, and if I don’t administer justice upon them who the hell will?
“And not only that, but what happens if they run out of food? Do you think they’ll bypass us and go all the way to San Angelo or Brady?
“No. They’ll come here. And some of our people will probably die during the battle. You may die during the battle, Al.
“And guess what? If they come here and start trouble, then it will be my jurisdiction. Only it’ll be a lot harder to deal with because they’ll come loaded for bear and looking for a war.”
Bill Brady finally found his tongue.
“Nobody’s disputing they deserve to pay for what they did, Marty. But Al’s right. It won’t hurt to wait a few days and think on it. They’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“If I don’t go tonight I may not get another chance.
“The roads are almost impassable now. If the snow picks up again we could get another foot by morning. And if it accumulates as high as my bumper I’ll just push the stuff in front of me until I build a snow bank and then get stuck in it.
“It’s now or never.”
Al gave up. He muttered something incoherent beneath his breath and pulled the door handle.
He stepped down onto the slippery snow and was so angry he tried to storm off, and then fell on his butt when his feet slid out from under him.
Brady, right behind him, helped him up and asked if he was okay.
“I’m okay. The whole damn world wants to kill each other, but I’m okay. I’m frickin’ peachy, that’s what I am.”
Richard stayed in the tractor’s passenger seat, pulled the door closed and fastened his seat belt.
“You’re not getting out?”
“No. I owe those women at least as much as you do. And you may need a hand.”
Without another word Marty backed his rig far enough to give him room to turn around.
The Sally port gate closed behind the mayor and Brady and they turned around to look at the pair in the rig.
Mayor Al saluted Marty, although it wasn’t clear whether it was sarcasm or a tribute to Marty’s bravery.
Marty didn’t feel brave.
He felt like a scum bag.
For the mayor had been absolutely right in everything he said.
Marty was off to commit mass murder.
-22-
As they turned south onto Highway 87 Richard asked, “I’m just curious… do you have a game plan? I mean, you don’t have any weapons other than your pistol.
“And I don’t see any spare magazines on your belt. Do you think ten rounds is gonna do it?”
“I thought I’d kill ‘em with pure rage.”
“Great plan.”
“Actually, I do have a plan, if something I saw a couple miles down the road is still there.”
“What would that be? A dozen other men with automatic weapons and hand grenades?”
“Nope. Something better.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“It’s more fun keeping you in the dark.”
“More fun for you, maybe.”
“Aha! There it is.”
Richard turned to look out into the winter wonderland before them. The wind had picked up and started to swirl.
He could barely make out a gasoline tanker in the haze, on the shoulder maybe thirty feet in front of them.
Marty ground to a halt alongside the tanker and applied his brakes.
“We’re gonna fill up their cars’ gas tanks and ask them to drive themselves to hell?”
Marty smiled.
“Damn! You figured out my plan.”
As Richard watched Marty began cranking down his trailer’s feet.
“Do me a favor, will you, Richard? Climb up there and unhook the air and electrical connections.”
“Sure. How?”
“Just grab them firmly and lift them up until they release.”
Marty pulled the pin to release the trailer.
“That’s it?” Richard asked.
“Not quite. Meet me at the front of the tanker, will you? We’re gonna hook it up and take it for a ride.”
Marty discovered the tanker not long after Hannah passed the word there might be another meteorite on the way and he decided to turn the prison into a shelter.
He’d dipped the tank to see how much fuel was in it and determined there was just over four thousand gallons on board.
He also inspected the air lines and tires, and determined they were in surprisingly good shape for a vehicle which sat idle for many years.
It was a choice find, and he’d have taken it to the prison before they determined gasoline was just too volatile. It was a risk they didn’t need to t
ake, so they decided to go strictly with diesel instead.
Who’d have thought he’d find an alternate use for it?
He pulled around to the front of the tanker, checked his mirrors to make sure Richard was out of the way, and backed the tractor hard for the hookup.
He hit it harder than he needed to, but wanted to jar the wheels in case the brakes were frozen.
Then he hopped out, verified the pin was locked into place, and started to crank up the feet.
“The air lines and pigtail go on the same way they came off. Just line them up on the connectors and turn them until they lock into place.”
“How do I know which one goes where?”
“They’re color coded. Red on red, blue on blue.”
“Oh, Yeah. Duh.”
It took several minutes for the air to build. While they waited Marty inspected the lines for leaks and didn’t find any.
He jumped inside the cab and checked his air pressure gauge, then released the brakes and pulled forward.
The four wheels on the tanker’s passenger side rolled freely.
The ones on the driver’s side didn’t turn, though. Instead they slid along the ice.
Marty muttered, “Damn it!” and hopped back down again.
From the tool bay he took a small sledge hammer and used it to beat the brakes on all of the driver’s side wheels.
Then he climbed back on board and tried again.
This time they rolled easily.
Richard observed, “Love how you used the high-tech method of getting rolling again.”
“Hey, sometimes the traditional ways are the best ways.”
“Now what?”
“Now we haul this behemoth to the Shady Rest Orphanage.”
“Think they’ll have a welcoming committee there?”
“I’m guessing probably not. And even if they do, I think we can sneak up on ‘em with our lights off. The howling wind should cover up the noise.”
“And if they see us or hear us anyway?”
“Then it should be an interesting night. How many rounds did you bring for your rifle?”
“Forty, counting the mag that’s in it.”
“If I were you I’d lock and load, just in case.”
The snow picked up again and the roads were getting more and more treacherous by the minute.
A couple of times the Peterbilt tractor’s tires started to spin.
“The treads are packed with hard ice,” Marty explained. They’re getting no traction at all.”
“Anything you can do about it?”
“I could chain up, but I’ll give it a few more minutes and see if we can plow through it. I’m guessing we’ll get better traction after we turn off the highway.”
A couple of minutes later they turned onto a narrow paved road leading off into the hills west of the highway.
And Marty was right. This road hadn’t been driven on since the new freeze began. Except for a single set of van tracks.
The unmolested snow did indeed provide better traction.
He turned off his lights and slowed to a crawl.
-23-
When Frank was stabbed and looked down to see a wide gash all the way across his midsection he thought he was a goner.
When he came to several hours later, therefore, he was understandably surprised.
“I didn’t think I’d make it,” he said rather hoarsely to Josie.
“I didn’t either. And to be honest, you’re far from out of the woods.”
“How much blood did I lose?”
“Hard to say. I’d say probably two pints.”
He looked around. He was inside a tent he didn’t recognize, lying on an air mattress on top of a folding cot.
“How’d I get here?” he asked. “And for that matter, where am I?”
“This is my tent. You’re moving in with me for the time being.”
“Gee, that’s nice and all. But I don’t think I’ll make much of a lover in my present condition.”
She smiled. He thought her rather pretty when she smiled.
Not that he wanted to or even could pursue that particular line of thought at present.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re an old man and you’re badly wounded. Save the pipe dreams for when you’re better.”
“Now that hurts. That really really hurts.”
Then he paused to think and it occurred to him he really did hurt.
“Anything you can give me for pain?”
“Yes, but probably not as much as you’d like. If I give you too much it’ll thin your blood and start the bleeding again.”
“And you can’t give me something that won’t thin my blood?”
“I can only give you the medicine I have, Frank. I’ll give you as much as I can, but I worked hard to save you. I’m not going to overmedicate you and risk losing you again.”
“Okay. Sorry. Say, what does Eddie have against me, anyway?”
“Eddie’s a simple-minded idiot. He doesn’t like any outsiders. And he doesn’t like anything or anybody who disrupts his routine. You qualify in both categories. Therefore he doesn’t like you.”
“Does he always try to kill people he doesn’t like?”
“Not always. He made an exception for you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Actually, believe it or not he wasn’t trying to kill you. He was just horsing around and misjudged the distance between you.
“For what it’s worth, he feels bad about hurting you and he wants to come and apologize to you.”
“Are you sure it’s not a trick, so he can finish the job?”
“No. He’s genuinely sorry. And in my opinion it’s not him you have to worry about. It’s Stacy. I think she wants to love you to death.”
“Terrific. Hey, how did I get in here, anyway? I don’t remember walking in.”
“Eddie. He carried you in. He asked me to save you so he can be your friend.”
“Do I gotta?”
“Better to have him as your friend than as your enemy.”
“I suppose.”
“So what’s the story between you and him anyway?”
“What can I say? I married him when I was still in college. He was a nice guy then. And silly, but not loony like he is now.”
“What happened to him?”
“Synthetic marijuana. That crap never should have been legal. It gave him the high he was looking for, but a lot of times it gave him severe headaches. It wasn’t regulated at all. The manufacturers just added whatever chemicals suited them each time they made a batch, so each batch was different.
“He was in prison and was using the synthetic marijuana somebody smuggled in. But they altered it with chemicals from a kitchen cleanser because somebody was out to get him.
“They altered the chemicals in Eddie’s brain and he hasn’t been the same since.”
“Are you guys still married?”
“Technically, I guess, since there isn’t any way of getting a divorce anymore. But we’re not together anymore, if that’s what you mean. We haven’t been for five, six years now.”
“And that’s okay with him?”
“Yes. He knows he isn’t the same man he was when we met. He knows I fell out of love with him years ago. And to be honest, I’m not so sure he can even feel love anymore.”
“Pardon me for thinking out loud, but I’m surprised your brothers haven’t thrown him out of here by now. From what I hear he’s always causing problems for you.”
“Oh, he is. But we can all remember Eddie the way he once was, and he really was a good guy. All of us have tried drugs at one time or other. We all understand that what happened to him wasn’t really his fault. He was just looking to get high. He wasn’t trying to cook his brain and make himself a basket case.
“To be honest with you though, the subject has come up a couple of times when Eddie pulled one of his big boneheaded blunders. Justin wanted to throw him out in the cold once, even packed his bags
for him. But I overruled him and put a stop to it.”
“How come?”
“Because he doesn’t have the skills to survive out there on his own. He wouldn’t last a week.
“And he deserved better than that.”
“Am I still gonna have to drag my chains around and do my chores?”
“Nope. Eddie volunteered to do them until you get a clean bill of health from me.
“Or die. Whichever comes first.”
She smiled again.
“You know you’re quite pretty when you smile.”
She blushed.
“Why did you say that?”
“I don’t know. I just thought you needed to know.”
“Well thank you. But don’t get any ideas. I’m not into old men.”
“You’re welcome. And that’s okay. I’m really not into women half my age. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less pretty when you smile.”
She blushed again.
“How about we change the subject?”
-24-
“Okay, Doctor Josie. Let’s do that. Let’s change the subject. What’s my prognosis? Am I gonna survive or not?
“And how in heck did I live this long with such a massive cut to my gut?
“Hey, did you hear that? I made a rhyme. A massive cut to my gut. I’m a freakin’ poet. How about that? Maybe you should lower your standards and go for an old man after all. I got games.”
“You got games, huh? Are you trying to be cool?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“No. You got game, not games. And young people don’t say that anymore anyway.
“You should stick to terminology you know, old timer. Like groovy or cool cat.”
“Ouch.”
“Your prognosis, since you asked, is fair. I would say good, since we managed to stop the bleeding. But the risk of infection is great, and I have no antibiotics to give you.”
“Double ouch.”
“Yep. Double ouch is right. However, the sword was well maintained, in that it was free of rust and made a clean cut. That helped. I think I did a thorough job of cleansing the wound.
“So if we can keep it clean, and if I can keep your granulation tissue from opening up new bleeders with the silver nitrate swabs from the first aid kit, and if you’re incredibly lucky you might survive.”
Final Dawn: Book 12: Where Could He Be? Page 8