Hot Storage

by Mary Mead

  Enough light reflected off the ground and the cartons that I could see Paul behind the flashlight he held. “You didn’t answer me, Marlena. Where did you come from? Why are you spying on me?”

  “Spying? I wasn’t spying on you, Paul. I heard a noise and came to see what it was.”

  “Came from where. Last time I’m gonna ask.”

  I gestured with my hand. “From the motor home.”

  “What’s going on?” Behind me Burke spoke. “Who are you talking to?”

  Paul stepped closer and flashed his light on me. “Look who I found spying on us.”

  “Marlie? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Burke.” Burke was dressed in black but even the faint reflection of light glinted on his bright blonde hair. “What are you doing here? The gates are closed. No one is coming in tonight.”

  “Checking on things, making sure the facility is secure,” he said, hopping down from the truck bed. “I ran into Paul and gave him a hand. He’s trying to get his mom’s things moved. Take them up to the house.”

  I glanced back at Paul. “Why now? Why not wait till daylight? That roof can let go completely. Kinda dangerous to be in there in the dark.”

  “It’s braced pretty well on those boxes,” he said. “I got in, shoved some out and Burke stacked them. Mom is real worried about her stuff.”

  In the dark? I wasn’t buying it. And where was Patrick?

  I moved towards the truck bed and Burke caught my arm.

  “What?” I asked him, tugging my arm free. Paul shone the flashlight on me. The light reflected off me and onto the cartons already loaded. Enough to see the packing tape with the three main strings running through it. Not enough light to see the colors but enough to see the pattern of those reinforcing strings.

  “Get that light out of here,” Burke said, slapping Paul’s hand. The beam of light went up, spun wildly across the corner of the building then hit the ground and went out to the sound of shattering glass. Without that narrow beam of light the dark wrapped around us, seeming darker than before after the loss of the light. Paul started cursing at Burke.

  “Grab her,” Burke snapped.

  Acting on pure instinct I took off, up on my toes, digging in and trying not to make noise. I sprinted for the next building and got around the corner before I heard the slap of feet on the asphalt. I flattened against the wall, mouth open, trying not to make a sound.

  “Find her?” Burke calling from behind me.

  “Not yet. Watch the gate!” Paul called from somewhere ahead, near the motor home. “Turn the truck lights on. Give us some light in case she tries to circle back.” I held my pose till my heart quit pounding. Then I was up on my toes and moving again, as fast as I could run. I ran for the back of the lot, away from both of them. I cut left as soon as I hit the cross aisle and waited again, stuck close to the back of the building.

  The next aisle suddenly lit up. No way could I get across there without being seen. Behind me I heard faint footsteps coming my way. I turned and ran the other way, across that aisle and then hooked another left and ran for the back of the lot. Behind the buildings I could stay in the dark and watch for their silhouettes against the walls as long as the headlights stayed on. There was a narrow track there, between the back of buildings and the fence.

  The best thing about long legs is how far they will carry you in full flight. I cleared the corner of Building Eight and slowed, feeling my way along the fence till I found the last outdoor slot. Ed White kept his boat in this space, a smaller cabin cruiser he was going to have rebuilt.

  I felt for the tongue on the trailer then felt my way up to where the hull rested. Climbing carefully, trying not to make a noise, I caught the top rail and pulled myself up until I could swing a leg up and catch the side rail. Using my left hand and my heel I pulled myself up and got a grip on the deck rail. I managed to get my right arm around the rail and pull myself upright. I heard Paul yell something but couldn’t make out the words. If Burke answered him I didn’t hear it. I managed to roll between the rails and drop onto the deck. I misjudged the drop and my sneakers hit the wood with a thunk that sounded to me like thunder.

  I froze again, breathing through my mouth, trying to stay quiet. My throat was dry from the sprint and the open mouth breathing. I could feel a cough coming. Turning my head into my shoulder I tried to muffle it. Then I waited some more.

  In a few minutes I heard an engine idling. I watched a faint light on the wall across the aisle, watched it gain intensity as the truck came closer. Another light played back and forth, across and back, up and down. A spotlight on the truck. The sound of the truck came closer, the big engine rumbling down the aisle, echoing off the walls of the buildings. I waited.

  “Marlie? Come on out, babe. What’s the matter with you?” Burke’s voice. Calling over the rumble of the truck. Minutes went by. I waited. Burke waited. I wondered where Patrick had gone. Was he, too, playing cat and mouse out here? Or had he gone on home wherever that was.

  I took a chance and lifted my head a little to see what was happening.

  “Marlie?”

  Burke sounded so close I dropped my head again.

  “What on earth is wrong with you? Come on, babe. I’m worried about you. Let’s go get a pizza and talk.”

  I stayed where I was.

  I heard footsteps crackle along the drive. “Did you find her?”

  Paul.

  “No,” Burke snapped. “I told you to watch the damn gate! She’ll run that way.”

  “Well, expert, why didn’t you know she was here? She said she was staying in your motor home. Don’t you keep track of your damn women?”

  “Not my motor home,” Burke said. “I have the keys. Come on, let’s get loaded and get out of here. She may already be out the gate. I don’t want to get caught with this.”

  “Give me a lift.”

  I heard the door of the truck open and slam shut. The gears shifted and slowly the sound faded along with the light. I waited until the darkness was solid again before I pushed myself to a sitting position and took a deep breath. Burke asked a good question – what was going on? I didn’t even know why I ran, let alone why they were hunting me. And where was Patrick? Thinking about it I realized he couldn’t have left. His truck was parked by the motor home. Unless he walked off and left it, he was still here.

  Being as quiet as possible I climbed over the rail and dropped back to the asphalt. Staying low I made my way along the row of boats and cars by feel, moving slowly, counting the spaces as I went. Blessings of a good memory, I remembered what was in each space. If I was right, I should be coming up to another aisle. Across that and up this row should bring me to the end of the row where Patrick’s motor home was parked. If his truck was still there, I’d know he was still on the property. For that matter, he might be in the motor home right now, wondering where I went.

  I came to the end of this row and stopped to listen. I could hear faint sounds coming from the right. I sprinted across the aisle and slipped under the boat trailer in space 9. The next two spaces were cars. I went behind them, easing along the fence. Space 12 was empty and if I was right space 13 held another boat, an aluminum dinghy flat on the ground without a trailer. That one I had to feel for in the darkness. It would sound like a cannon going off if I ran into it.

  Burke called out suddenly, sounding very close. “He’s gone! I told you to tie him up!”

  Paul answered from somewhere further away. I couldn’t make out his words.

  “Well, it’s too late now,” Burke snarled. “Get the last of it and let’s get out of here. Did you take his phone?”

  Another muffled answer.

  The sound of Burke’s cussing faded away.

  Who was gone? Who was tied up? This whole thing was beyond me. Sound travels, especially at night when the air is heavier. Burke had surprised me, sounding much too close. I picked up my speed, my hands out in front of me, hoping I would h
ave time to stop when I felt the boat.

  Luck was with me. I touched the boat before I ran into it. Dropping to the ground again I felt along its sides where it laid on the ground. It was stored upside down, to keep from holding rain. If I could get under it, I could wait them out. Wait for daylight.

  I scooted along on my knees, being as quiet as I could, the bits of gravel biting into my knees as I moved first one then the other. I felt the edge of the boat begin to curve and knew I was close to the bow. The point of the bow held the upturned boat off the ground. If I could lift it a little, I could crawl beneath it and wait for dawn.

  I slid my fingers along the edge until I could feel a space between the edge and the ground. I tried to lift it, get an idea how heavy it was. An aluminum boat can’t be that heavy, can it? Well, yes it can. Trying to lift it meant getting up on my knees, into a kneeling position. I didn’t have enough arm strength to lift the boat. I needed to get to my feet, use my legs. And then what? There was no way I was going to be able to stand, lift the boat and slide under it at the same time.

  I felt further, trying to see if there was enough clearance for me to slide under without lifting it. No go. Hard to judge in the dark but it felt like eight inches or so, not enough for my fanny to clear.

  Frustrated, I crossed my ankles and sat down, giving my knees a break. If I could find a block of some kind maybe I could lift the boat, slide the block under the edge to hold it up and then get under it. Maybe I could just call MacGyver. Or give Superman a buzz. I dropped my elbows to rest on my spread knees and let my shoulders slump and my head hang loose to relieve some of the tension.

  What was happening? My mind spun from did I hear something to where’s Patrick to was that a noise and back to what is going on. Why am I hiding? More confusing, why was I running from Burke?

  Burke, my pal, my buddy, always the flirt, always affectionate. Did he really want more? Maybe he was sincere. Maybe he was involved with Paul in something else, something beyond high school friends. I watch TV. I’m neither stupid nor blind. I saw those cartons they had loaded in the truck and I recognized them, at least a couple of them. Burke is helping Paul or vice versa to move cartons marked exactly like the cartons of drugs.

  Maybe the bad guys didn’t get the missing cartons off the property. Maybe they got moved into one of Mrs. Murphy’s units. One like Building Three, with the huge combined space where walls had never been built. With all of her stuff a few more cartons or boxes would never be noticed. She couldn’t possible remember every one of them and what was in it.

  I lifted my head, arched my back and stretched those muscles, cooling from sitting cross legged so long.

  Arms grabbed me, a hand gripped my face, covering my mouth with a cupped palm. I tried to bite and couldn’t reach the palm. I yanked my head forward trying to break loose, my hands trapped by the arm locked around me.

  “It’s Patrick,” a sigh whispered past my ear. “Be still.”

  I wilted and took in a deep breath. The fingers pressed around my mouth relaxed and let go. My heart hammered so hard in my chest I was afraid the adrenaline surging through my system was audible.

  The hand that had been covering my mouth smoothed across my forehead and down my cheek. I felt a warm breath on my face, near my ear.

  “You okay?” He breathed against my ear.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. He had scared the water out of me.

  “I’ll lift, you slide under. Stay there. Help on the way.”

  I thought for a second. If I was under the boat I might be able to lift it using my back, pushing up against one of the bench seats. Could I lift it high enough for him to get under? Was there room for both of us beneath the boat? Would pigs fly out my butt? I shook my head and heard his soft sigh.

  Leaning my head back into his chest I felt for his head and pulled it down where I could turn my head and be close to his ear. “No room,” I whispered, trying to keep my whisper as soft as his.

  His arms left me. Taking my right hand he placed it on the edge of the boat, folding my fingers under it with his. “Under,” he breathed, nudging my back with his chest. I felt him get to his feet, felt his hand move away from mine. I rolled to my knees, the gravel biting into them again. There was a small sound, a slight hiss in the gravel and the boat began to rise. I felt it with the hand still holding the edge. I got my feet under me and used my legs to lift me inside the circle of Patrick’s arms, my back sliding along his body as I stood.

  “Under,” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “You, too.”

  “Go.”

  “Well ain’t that sweet,” Paul said aloud. Bright light lit the scene around us. I flinched from the light and closed my eyes, seeing only a red film. “What’cha doing, guys? Trying to steal a boat?”

  Patrick dropped his arms, and the boat, at the same time.

  My dad always told me the best defense is a good offense. “What are you doing, Paul? You’ve been chasing us around all night. What’s the game?”

  “What’s your game, Marlena? You playing a little spy versus spy?”

  I leaned back into Patrick. “Trying to get a little action with my man,” I said. “You seem bound and determined to mess that up. Want to tell me why?”

  Paul snorted and lowered the light a little, getting it out of my face. “Your man?” He laughed. “Honey, you’re not even a notch in his belt. Patty likes his little blond fluffs. You know? Those tight bodied little surfer girls with all the bleached blonde hair.”

  “I’m trying to change that,” I said, turning toward him. He was only a shape behind the light, hiding in the dark. “He gets a taste of a hot blooded Latina, he’ll change his mind. I’m like chili peppers. Cool to the touch, too hot to handle.”

  Paul chuckled. “I bet you are, Marlena. I know I wanted a taste. You shut me down, remember? Got your little law man sweetie. You know that, Patty? You know she sleeps with that cop? She must have a thing for cops. Sleeps with Burke, too. Guess I needed a badge to bed her.” He laughed again. “Maybe I can borrow Burke’s.”

  I felt Patrick edging back, away from me, so I shuffled forward a little, turning more towards Paul and further from Patrick. If we could get enough space between us we’d have a chance to jump Paul.

  “It’s not the badge, Paul. It’s the man. Best Burke ever got was a good night kiss. You know, like your first date? Like you say good night to your mother? You kiss your mama, Paulie,” I stressed his name, the way his mother always said it. “I’ve seen you. That’s about what it’s like to kiss Burke. No fire. Might was well kiss an egg. Lot more responsive.”

  Paul laughed again. “I thought he was lying. He never was good with the women. They were all mine. One place he never could beat me was with the women. I proved that. A lot.”

  “I don’t know,” I said and eased a few more inches left. “You gringos not so good in the sheets. I like me a man, you know? Mucho hombre.”

  Patrick lunged at Paul and Paul shot him.

  There was a flash of yellow, a pop and Patrick fell through the beam of light, slamming into the ground. He never made a sound.

  “Pat!” I squatted beside him.

  “Get up, Marlena. NOW!”

  I stood, my anger rising with me. “You are bad,” I said, curling my lips. “I like that, Paulie. You are a man.” I eased a little closer to him, smiling more, dropping my eyelids to what I hoped was a sexy look. “Muy bueno, hombre.” I was using up what little Spanish I had.

  I knew Paul spoke Spanish, I had heard him on his cell phone.

  I took another step closer and licked my bottom lip. “Caliente,” I murmured, hoping that meant hot and not just a hot sauce. I lifted my right hand and slowly, carefully reached toward his face. “You like hot sauce, Paulie?”

  His eyes darted from my face to my hand. This close I could see the glint of the gun in his right hand, the light in his left.

  I licked my lips again, watched his eyes drop and brought up my knee as hard
and fast as I could, right in the jewels. I felt my knee connect with soft tissue and grabbed for the gun. Paul mewed like a kitten and dropped, his hands going for his crotch, easily giving me the gun and dropping his flashlight. I stepped back and aimed the gun at him.

  “Nice move, Marlie. Damn, girl, that was hot. Now drop it.”

  Burke.

  His light lit me up.

  “Drop it, babe, or I will put a bullet in the back of Trick’s head.”

  I glanced his way, unable to see him clearly with him in the dark and me in the light.

  “Come on, Marlie. I’ve done it before. Give up the gun or he’s dead.”

  I let go the butt of the gun, let it roll forward on my finger.

  “Good girl. Put it on the ground. Slow.”

  I knelt slowly, my hand out, the gun dangling from my forefinger. I kept my eyes on Burke. “You win, Burke. You’re the hero. You broke up the drug ring. I’m proud of you,” I said, and leaned a little to put the gun where he was shining the light.

  “Too late, babe. I’m smarter than Paul. His head is way below his belt. Put the gun down. Now. Or Trick gets it.”

  I turned my hand a little to the side, almost horizontal, the gun butt touching the ground.

  I lunged to the left, gripped the gun and shot Burke. Twenty years in the Army – I can march and I can shoot. I heard him grunt once then hit the ground. The flashlight he held rolled free, a kaleidoscope of light spun across the asphalt and the boat behind us.

  I rolled too, away from him, still holding the gun. The smell of cordite was thick. Paul groaned in the dark. Maybe the gunfire would shut him up. I pulled my knees up and lifted onto one of them, my right leg out for balance. Getting to my feet, I eased back, away from the light and closer to the building behind me. Burke made no sound at all.

  Moving in a wide circle I tried to get behind the flashlight. If I could pick it up I had the advantage. Right now, the dark was my friend. I put out a foot, shifted my weight to it and brought up the other. Slow but steady. I was shifting forward again, my weight balanced on both legs when another light bloomed from the ground and a bullet nicked my left calf. I dove again, scraping my hands but keeping the gun and rolling. I rolled toward the boat, or where I thought the boat was, trying to keep my eyes aimed at the spot the shot came from. All I could hear was the sound of my clothes against the asphalt as I rolled, still clutching the gun in my right hand.