by Gavin Smith
“Here’s to you Momma,” he said and took a long drink of the burning sour mash. It was not so very far away from the alcohol they used to fuel the vehicles. There was a sound to their right. Both of them turned to see Rattlesnake Jack crawl out of his overturned, partially submerged, car. He was a bit banged up but otherwise okay. He staggered to his feet and started moving towards them.
“You two, we need to turn my car over and tow it out of this fucking swamp,” he snapped.
“It’s not a swamp,” Buck said.
“It’s a large and very slow moving river fed by Lake Okeechobee,” Gibby added. Jack gaped at them both.
“Think I give a shit? Just do what you’re fucking told.”
“Told?” Buck asked. Both of them turned to face Jack.
“Why’d we do what we were told?” Gibby asked. Jack pointed at Momma’s mangled body up on her throne.
“Well she ain’t going to be doing it is she? She’s fucking dead.”
Buck and Gibby glanced up at Momma.
“True enough,” Buck agreed.
“But it seems to us you had a hand in that,” Gibby said.
“What the fuck are you talking about? The Indian killed her,” Jack snapped.
“Oh he sure was a contributor…” Gibby began.
“A significant contributor,” Buck agreed.
“But it looked to me that you fired the killing shot,” Gibby finished.
“So fucking what if I did? Friendly fire motherfucker, ain’t you ever been in a firefight before? Shit happens in war.”
Buck and Gibby gave this some thought.
“True enough but I’m still not sure you’re leadership material Jack,” Buck finally said. Jack’s hand started moving to the twin Personal Defence Weapons holstered on each hip. He did not like the way this was going.
“Speaking of war,” Gibby piped up, “Why d’you think that Native American fellow was so riled up at us?”
Buck glanced over at Gibby. He knew Gibby well enough to know that his partner suspected something.
“How the fuck would I know?” Jack answered.
“You do something on the way up to meet us?” Buck asked turning back to face Jack.
“What if I did?” Jack demanded.
“What did you do Jack?” Gibby asked quietly.
“Home invasion, no big deal,” he answered. “Me, Nokker, Cletus and Buzzsaw.”
“On Miccosukee land?” Buck asked. Jack nodded.
“I’m sure you heard my partner ask what you did,” Buck asked. His quiet even tone was tinged with anger. Jack looked at them both, sizing them up before he seemed to come to a decision.
“We had some fun with the woman. The kids were making a lot of noise so we shut them up,” he answered brazenly.
“You raped the woman and killed the kids?” Gibby asked.
Jack stared at him. “Yeah, if you want to put it like that.”
“Think that might’ve been why he was angry at us?” Buck asked. Jack did not say anything.
“Why he killed so many of us?” Gibby asked. Jack shrugged.
“Tell me Jack, did you have some fun with the woman and kids first? Play with them a little? Enjoy hurting them some?” Buck asked. Jack stared at Buck. Buck stared back, impact hardened plastic lens to impact hardened plastic lens. It was very macho but kind of pointless.
“Of course I did. Do you not get this? We’re the fucking bad guys, one of the Crawling Town gangs. We’re fucking raiders. We live free and do what we want. We’re what some corporate straight-head fears when they go to bed at night.”
“No you don’t get it son,” Buck said.
“We don’t do shit like this,” Gibby finished. Jack just stared at them both.
“Fine then maybe the Commancheros don’t have no place for you. You can leave after we catch up with Crawling Town. Until then you do as your fucking told.”
Buck and Gibby exchanged another look.
“Think you might have to work some to convince us of that,” Buck finally said.
“What? What you think you can take me? You were fucking bus jockeys. I was special forces. You know what that means. The pair of you ain’t no match for me.”
“Son do you know who the Grey Lady is?” Gibby asked. Jack nodded. The Grey Lady was a legend in the special forces community. She was the special forces operator that other special forces operators told their kids about to scare them. “Well we use to ferry her and her boss about.”
“What my partner here is trying to tell you is that you don’t frighten us none,” Buck added for good measure.
“You’re nowhere near fast enough,” Jack said. Four revolvers cleared leather. Six shots were fired from each. Twenty-four bullets flew. Most of them found their mark. Jack stood for a moment. A flock of startled waterfowl took to the air. Buck and Gibby watched the Special Forces veteran, a smoking gun in each of their hands. Jack toppled back into the glades. Nearby an alligator slid into the water.
“You find someone with faster reflexes than a pilot you be sure and let us know,” Buck said. “’Cept you can’t, ‘cause you’re dead.” Buck turned to Gibby. “Would’ve liked to have cut his arms and legs off and left him for the gators.”
“Doesn’t seem fair to the gators. Besides you can’t leave a man like that behind you. Best to shoot him down like a diseased dog,” Gibby said. Buck nodded at his non-sexual life partner’s wisdom.
* * *
Buck and Gibby stared out into the glades from inside the Mercury parked on Route 27. Momma’s truck was burning, a fitting pyre for a worthy road pirate. Buck glanced back south down the road.
“Leaving a lot of salvage,” Buck said wistfully.
“It’ll be picked clean before we can find something to move it in,” Gibby said. Buck lapsed into thought as Gibby started up the Mercury.
“You know what we need?” Buck asked.
“Pants for you?”
“Besides pants for me.”
Gibby could think of a lot of things that they needed but he decided to make it easy on himself. “Nope.”
“One of those big wrecker tow trucks. We could armour it heavily and pick up all the wreckage we leave.”
Gibby smiled and turned the car and headed north back towards Crawling Town, their ever moving nomadic home.
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