The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4

by Dustin Stevens

  “We don’t make sure it’s contained, liable to burn the whole damn county to the ground.”

  Chapter Four

  Oklahoma.

  That one word kept passing through Drake Bell’s mind as he moved forward. Pumped his arms and slid his feet in an endless rhythmic motion.

  What brought it to mind wasn’t barbecue. Not country music. Not even Sooner football.

  It was the trail he was now on. Flattened monotony for miles in every direction despite the mountainous peaks rising high on either side.

  Not that he would ever say as much.

  “Remind me who the hell picked this?” a voice called from behind him. The sound of exasperation was obvious. So too was the din of labored breathing.

  “We all did, remember?” Sage Keuhl replied, her body just three feet to the right of Drake. Close enough he could reach out and topple her over if he wanted. Athletic and poised enough he knew better than to even try.

  “We did?” the same voice asked, a hint of pain starting to mix in.

  “Yes,” Drake said. Raised his voice to be heard without having to turn around. Kept his gaze focused forward.

  Stretched out before him was a twin pair of narrow trenches. No more than five inches wide, they cut through the hard packed snow of Western Montana.

  Lining either side of the tracks was dense Ponderosa pine. Forested undergrowth. Stumps and felled branches. All of it covered in a thick blanket of white.

  The trail extended straight out for almost a quarter mile ahead before being swallowed by the trees. Nothing but a flat ribbon pulled taut, the trail never wavering.

  Much like a highway spread across the breadth of Oklahoma.

  “Well, this sucks,” the same voice said.

  “Yes,” Drake breathed out in a low whisper, his thoughts much the same as the voice behind him.

  “I heard that,” Sage hissed back at him, her long hair hanging down, obscuring most of her face. She kept her attention aimed down at her own set of tracks dug into the snow before glancing over at him, her white teeth flashing beneath the orange tint of her ski goggles.

  Just a hint of mischief playing at the corners of the smile.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Drake said. Matched the smile. Pushed himself two hard strides forward. Used the momentum to cut his skis across the trail.

  Felt the spray of snow slashing his face as it kicked up at him.

  Beside him Sage coasted to a stop, her skis still entrenched in their tracks. Jammed her poles into the snow on either side of her. Lifted the goggles from her eyes and rested them over the knitted cap she wore on her head.

  Breathed deeply through her red-tinged nostrils.

  Drake watched her a moment before shifting his attention to the pair bringing up the rear.

  Following behind him was Adam Jackson, Ajax for as long as Drake had known him. On the opposite was Kade Keuhl, older brother to Sage, and the source of the unending stream of complaints thus far on the morning.

  “Since when do you not like skiing?” Drake asked as both came to a stop. Stuck their poles into the ground. Drew in deep gasps of air.

  “I love skiing,” Kade replied. Removed his goggles. Wiped the veneer of sweat from his brow. “But this isn’t skiing.”

  A smile came to Drake’s features as he glanced to Sage. Saw the same look creeping across her face.

  Both knew better than to interrupt a rant once it began.

  “Skiing is fun,” Kade launched forth, ignoring them both. “Skiing starts you off at the top of a hill. It uses gravity to do the work. All we have to do is direct ourselves, make sure not to hit anything.”

  “That’s all, huh?” Sage asked.

  “Don’t forget we have to say whee the whole way down,” Drake added.

  “And when it’s over,” Kade said, not to be deterred, “a lift takes you back to the top!”

  A chorus of chuckles echoed off the trees nearby.

  “But this,” Kade continued, “this is just masochism. This is pushing ourselves across a flat piece of ground. No speed, no gravity, no wind in our face.

  “Just burning lungs and sweaty asses.”

  At that the chuckles erupted into full blown laughter, the sound carrying out through the morning.

  Just the way most Zoo Crew outings tended to go.

  Chapter Five

  The Zoo Crew.

  The moniker awarded to the single most random grouping of misfits the city of Missoula had ever seen.

  The group found its origin seven years before, an organic outgrowth formed as a necessary reaction to their surroundings. None of them quite belonged. All of them were bored and searching for like-minded individuals.

  The unholy union was made.

  The first coupling in the group was with Drake and Kade. Brought together as freshmen on the University of Montana football team.

  At the same time on the opposite end of campus, Drake and Ajax were paired together. Neither had ever met the other before arriving. Neither could be more different from the other if they tried. If not for the algorithm employed by the University of Montana housing system, there’s a decent chance the two never would have met.

  Fortuitously for all, they did.

  In total, it took just a few weeks for easy camaraderie among all three to form. Soon thereafter, it became an alliance that still showed no signs of slowing.

  Demarcated by their respective places on the fringes of traditional western Montana society, the trio vowed to never let it impede in anything they wished to do.

  Part of that vow was the formation of the Crew, a functional action plan for their freshmen year pact. With just weeks before finals and the last dregs of a long Montana winter passing, they made the decision to meet at least three mornings a week.

  Come together. Get outside. Be as active as the playground that was western Montana would allow.

  Didn’t matter the time of year or even the activity.

  Find someplace where nobody cared about their differences. Leave the world behind. Release every bit of pent up frustration or inhibition they might be harboring.

  Over time, something of an odd schedule had formed. In the summer they hit the water, fishing rods in hand. In the winter, they swapped them out for ski poles. The time in between was reserved for hiking, golfing, snowshoeing.

  Not that it ever really mattered. The action itself was far from the point.

  The sound of cold plastic slapping against frozen metal rang out as Drake dropped his skis into the bed of his truck. Echoed even louder as he loaded his boots in beside them.

  On the opposite side Ajax did the same, his movements slow and stiff from the cold. Thunderous booms rang from the frozen metal as he flung his implements down.

  “I would have thought you’d appreciate cross country skiing,” Drake said. Tugged his cap off his head. Ran a hand back over his hair.

  Cold air sniped at the perspiration on his scalp. Gave his exposed skin a prickly sensation. Sent steam rising into the morning air.

  “Yeah, why’s that?” Ajax asked, his voice muffled through a thick scarf enveloping what little of his face was visible beneath his parka.

  “Like our boy over there so eloquently pointed out,” Drake said. Jutted a chin towards Kade loading his gear into the bed of the neighboring truck. “There’s no wind in your face, the opportunity to get sweaty.”

  “No, he said his ass was getting sweaty,” Ajax corrected. “My butt is still freezing, just as it has been since Halloween.”

  “Just like it will be until Cinqo de Mayo,” Sage added, coming up alongside Ajax. Peeled her gloves off and slapped them against her palm.

  Sprawled across the lot around them was an uneven tangle of cars. Just over a dozen in total. The few brave souls willing to make the trip up under the circumstances.

  Normally the lot was as full as the makeshift space would allow. Cars parked on snow banks. Wedged between trees. Today the lot was almost barren, a thin morning su
n reflecting off the snow smashed flat.

  “And by that you of course mean the Fourth of July,” Drake added.

  “Of course,” Sage conceded.

  Between them Ajax made no effort to remove any clothing. Merely stood and shook his head in disgust.

  “One good thing about cross country skiing,” Kade said, bringing up the rear, ushering the entire group forward. “Is there was no race at the end this morning.”

  Rising in front of them was Snow Plaza, preeminent ski destination in the region.

  Constructed from old growth pine and painted red, it stood out against the landscape regardless of time of year. In the middle of it was a high A-frame with windows allowing light to spill out. Pushed to either side were matching wings, small square windows lining them in uniform patterns.

  “Meaning you two don’t have to buy us breakfast?” Drake said. Circled wide. Made up the far left end of the group moving four across.

  “Damn,” Sage added from the opposite bookend. “I was growing rather fond of steak and Kristal every morning, weren’t you?”

  As they walked up the steps to the front door the two ends faded back. Allowed Kade and Ajax to head on inside.

  “I wouldn’t say every morning,” Drake said. “Just the three days a week we come up here.”

  The remark drew another smile from Sage. A pair of shaking heads in front of them.

  “Piss on you,” Ajax muttered. Loud enough to be audible. Soft enough to make it look like an accident.

  “Both of you,” Kade added.

  Made sure he was heard.

  Chapter Six

  Roaring fire on one end.

  Bustling kitchen on the other.

  Several handfuls of tables filling the space between them.

  Most winter days there would be but a few seats available. The buzz of congregated humanity and conversation would hang in the air. Condensation from snow and sweat would cling to the windows.

  Given the current state of the things though, the place was almost deserted.

  “Hey, Mikey, any word on when the chair lift will be up?” Kade called as he passed by the kitchen.

  Through the open window a beefy man in a too-tight t-shirt leaned out. Ran a forearm over his face.

  “Looks like not until the end of the week,” Mike said. Shook his head in derision. “Damn thing is killing my business.”

  “Well, allow us to help,” Kade replied. “The usual for all of us, if you’d be so kind.”

  Mike acknowledged the order with a salute, a greasy spatula coming to his brow. Just as fast he disappeared inside. Left a sparse string of meal tickets fluttering in his wake.

  “The usual?” Drake asked. Followed Kade and Ajax down the middle aisle. Headed towards their customary table in the corner. “Since we actually have to pay today I was thinking toast and tea.”

  “I was leaning more towards saltines and water,” Sage replied. “Girl has to be frugal, fending for herself.”

  In front of them Kade and Ajax both ignored the comments. Waved to Lewis and Cynthia Hill, arguably the only two people more recognizable in Snow Plaza than the Crew. Headed for their spot by the fire.

  After the previous two months of pandemonium filling the space, an eerie quiet had settled in. Not since the very first day of the season had the lodge hosted such a small crowd, a direct response to the lift being down for the first time in years.

  Some regulars claimed it was the first loss of time since the seventies.

  Certainly the first since the Crew started frequenting the place.

  Moving in pairs, they circled around the same table they’d been using for half a decade. Came to a stop behind their customary chairs.

  Seated closest to the flames was Ajax, his entire body still mummified in North Face arctic gear. At least once a week some passerby cautioned him against sitting so close to an open fire, but each time he waved them off with a polite nod.

  A trust fund child from the North End of Boston, Ajax was the first person Drake encountered in Missoula that wasn’t wearing a jersey and helmet. Standing four inches above six feet tall and having the long stature and even gait of an athlete, he was often mistaken for it though.

  If not football, basketball at the least.

  In truth he had chosen the school because it was far from the privilege his family seemed intent on suffocating him with. Any status as an outlier he endured was worth it for the assurance of knowing there was no chance they would show up unannounced.

  Blessed with an enormous financial backing should the need arise, not once had he ever touched a cent. Instead he had parlayed a sharp eye and keen interest in video games into a position as one of the top designers in the country. Worked out of the home he now shared with Drake. Flew business partners to Missoula for any in-face meetings that arose.

  Across from him Kade took a seat, dropping his hat and gloves onto the table. Shaking out his long dark hair, bits of water dripped onto the table in front of him.

  The very first person Drake met in Montana, he was the product of a German father and a Native American mother, the contributions of both obvious in his features.

  Long hair that hung straight down to his shoulder blades. Light skin. Blue eyes. Angular face.

  As someone of mixed ethnicity growing up on the Flathead Reservation sixty miles north of Missoula, he found himself an oddity. Too light for the Native American community and too dark for the Caucasian crowd, feistiness was ingrained at an early age. Took hold and made him a good football player.

  Great friend.

  Half a foot shorter than Ajax, he had yet to age a day in the seven years Drake had known him, his features and his physique were both kept in check working as a fire jumper. Six months of the year he was on the road, working over fires across the western states. The rest of the time he was in Missoula, keeping a sharp eye on the ladies in town and running with the Crew.

  “Alright, so I think we can all safely assume that cross country is off the agenda until next year at least?” Sage asked, taking up a spot beside her brother.

  Two years junior to all others, she was the newest member of the Crew.

  Seated side by side with her sibling the resemblance was clear, an obvious amalgamation of European and Native American. Having survived the same predicament of identity as he, soon after graduating high school she had left the res for Bozeman, enrolling in the only nursing program in the state.

  When her time there was complete she had split the distance and tried her hand at Missoula. Accepted a position at St. Michael’s Hospital.

  Upon first arriving, Kade had invited her along to help ingratiate her with the community. Within two months it became apparent to all she would rather run with the guys than the rest of town anyway.

  They had welcomed her with open arms.

  “If by next year you mean never again, then yes,” Kade said. Let another sour look cross his features.

  “Even if the lift is still down?” Drake asked. Masked his amusement at the situation. Gave no indication that he was just goading his friend.

  At face value, Drake was the most in line with what was thought to be traditional in Missoula.

  His time in Montana had started seven years before when he’d been recruited to serve as a middle linebacker. At the time, he’d simply been looking for someplace to pay for him to continue playing ball. In the years since the confluence of his attending law school and his parents passing had given him little reason to leave.

  A deep love for the mountains and the Crew both only served to solidify the decision.

  Standing right at six feet tall, he wore his blonde hair short, had blue eyes. His thick neck and thighs had receded back to normal since hanging up his cleats, though he could still pass for an athlete to the untrained observer.

  It wasn’t until he opened his mouth and an unbridled southern drawl spilled out that anybody suspected he wasn’t Montana born and bred.

  “Yes,” Kade replied. Added a
n emphatic nod. “I will go take a polar bear plunge in the Clark Fork three times a week before I do that again.”

  At that Ajax unwound the scarf from his head. Flopped it down on the table in front of him. Peeled back his hat and let the tangle of dreadlocks he wore fall across his dark brown skin.

  “Easy now, let’s not go getting crazy.”

  Earned a chorus of chuckles from the table.

  “He speaks!” Sage gasped. Managed to raise the chuckles into full laughter.

  “Yeah, well, you all keep talking about jumping in frigid water you’ll be hearing a lot more from me,” Ajax said. Leaned back in his chair. Folded his arms across his parka.

  “Take all that cross country gear we won’t need anymore and have myself a nice little bonfire. Sit and wave as you crazy bastards strip down and go for it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Burning.

  Not the last standing bits of the house. There were precious few of those remaining.

  Taggert’s eyes. He could feel his tear ducts working to try and cleanse six hours of smoke from them. Was certain they would be red rimmed whenever he glanced into a mirror. Also knew that with a nose that refused to stop running, nostrils irritated by the same source, he must be a hell of a sight.

  Not that there was anybody at his empty apartment to give a damn anyway.

  The sound of Taggert’s car door slamming carried out over the morning as he climbed out. Leaned back against it. Took a long pull on his coffee.

  The bitter liquid burned his throat as it slid down, served straight black from a paper cup.

  The taste brought a wince to Taggert’s face as he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. Surveyed the scene for the first time under the light of day.

  Gone was much of the pandemonium that had been present ten hours before. The trio of fire engines. The half dozen police cruisers. The small cadre of media that had made the drive out in the dead of night.

  In their stead was only a single man. Dressed in bright yellow fire pants and a matching jacket hanging open, he walked slowly through the remains of the house. Flipped over the occasional charred board with the edge of his boots.