by Dan O'Shea
“How’s your momma and sis’ boy? Haven’t heard you talk about them lately. They doin’ good? Hope so, hope they still doin’ good.” Poppy was almost whispering now.
Wes stared with bulging eyes into Big Poppy’s face an inch away. His breath smelled like old chicken bones that had been sitting around too long.
“I know they still livin’ out the edge a town. I’ll go see ‘em while you gone, just to make sure they all right. With you always runnin’ here and there and ever’where and all. You know, just make sure they okay, that’s what I’ll do…We understand each other boy?”
Wes tried to say something but couldn’t. Instead he managed a quick nod.
Big Poppy loosened up the grip slightly, stood back and then grinned like it was Christmas morning.
“We good on this then Wesley? You leave tomorra mornin’, around ten or so. Good man. That’s real GOOD.”
Wes nodded again, free of the iron grip now. He stood with his feet apart and looked down at the floor shaking his head.
Poppy slapped Wes’s back twice and brushed something off his shoulder.
“I’ll be ready. I’ll do it, but Big Poppy, it just ain’t fuckin’ right. You know it ain’t right.”
“Lotta things ain’t right boy, but it is what it is.”
Big Poppy was all happy now.
• • • •
They drove out of Fort Worth at ten thirty the next morning and headed straight south, down I-45. About three that afternoon, they finally found the place. It was outside of Houston just like Big Poppy said, but Wes found out it was way the fuck outside.
When they finally pulled into the long dirt lane headed up to the old ramshackle ranch house, it looked deserted. No other cars, ragged ass drapes blowing out the broken windows and the roof was half caved in. Thigh high grass and weeds grew wild everywhere.
They sat there for a minute and listened to the wind. An old loose gutter was softly banging around on the left corner of the house, but that was it.
“This ain’t it bucky, can’t be.” Kingman was slouched down in the passenger seat and shaking his head.
“You expectin’ the Southfork ranch or somethin?”
“Southfork? What the fuck you talkin’ about Wesley?
“Nevermind about that and hey, like I told you too many times already, it’s Wes. Only guy gets to call me Wesley is Big Poppy. Do it again and yall wish you hadn’t.”
He stared at Kingman until the man finally looked him in the eye. Kingman quickly broke off the stare down though, put a boot up on the dash and lit another cigarette.
“Jeezu Pete brother, settle the fuck down.” Kingman rolled down his window and spit. “You sure are a hot tempered little shit.”
“This is the place. We wait right the fuck here.”
Ten minutes went by as they both sat silently in the cargo van watching the house. Kingman couldn’t stop squirming around and sighing, still sure they were at the wrong place and wasting time. Another ten minutes went by.
“Right corner window, somebody just peeped out.” Wes eyed the house and reached into the console.
They watched two big men come out the front screen door. Biker boys, with bald heads and sleeveless jean jackets waltzed out casually. They stood on the front porch, one leaning against a peeling pillar. The two just kept staring hard at the van. The one leaning on the pillar had a sawed off shotgun held down straight along his leg and the other one was empty handed.
“Big fuckers” Kingman said quietly. There was a light but steady wind and the long grass that was everywhere swayed with it. No other sound or movement.
Slowly the two bikers came off the porch and made their way to the van about fifty feet away. The one without a gun showing was the lead dick, out in front a little.
“You lookin’ for something amigo, or just lost and need directions?” He had a scraggly ass ZZ Top beard.
“Wes and Billy.” Wes pointed at himself then at Kingman, acting tired and bored, but he was taking everything in. The shaved heads were not quite thirty, both looked and sounded like they were supposed to. Right out of the movies.
The guy with the shotgun, standing back a little, probably had the most serious shit to throw around. Gun, or no gun. Then again, the one with the beard and doing the talking didn’t strike him as any little pussy either.
“Okay Wes and Billy, that’s great. I’m Butch and he’s fucking Sundance. Now, like I said, you lookin’ for somethin’?”
“We’re here for what you have, 3 packages.”
The biker turned and grinned at the other man. He nodded, looking back at the van.
“Well, packages - especially these packages, ain’t fuckin’ free. Show me what you got son and let’s quit dickin’ around here.”
“Damn sport. Loosen up there a little.” Billy leaned forward and smiled at ZZ from the passenger side.
Ignoring him, the biker looked at Wes and shrugged.
“Get the money.” Wes said as he turned to Billy and nodded towards the rear. Billy got up and moved into the back cargo area.
He noticed that the lead biker had put his hands on his hips and figured there was probably a gun tucked in the small of his back. Wes had his right arm slung casually over the steering wheel and driver side door was blocking the view of the Glock he held in his left hand.
Before they left last night, Big Poppy had warned them over and over again about this gang. It was old man Delavan’s first deal with them and they were an unknown quantity with no past business dealings.
Sure, the Mexicans and South Americans were just as ruthless and crazy with their drugs, but this was a whole new ballgame. The bikers were somehow in bed with the Russian mafia and some of the white slave trade business.
“Ever’body knows them rooskies are just crazier than bed bugs and the bikers are always jazzed up on Meth. You just watch that money now - and your ass.” Big Poppy had wagged his finger at Wes this morning as they left.
From the back, Billy crouched low and stepped back up into his front seat along with the briefcase. He held it up, opened and tilted it up slightly so the lead biker could see.
“Alright then, we’ll need to count that a’course.” The biker stepped forward and waved Billy to pass it out to him.
“Whoa now, hold on there.” Wes said and started to open his van door. The man quickly made his hand a stop sign. Shotgun man shifted slightly and took two more steps closer. For a split second, things could have gone really bad, right then and there.
“Hey, we’re getting out pard. This ain’t no drive thru fuckin’ Wendy’s order here. We need to see the merchandise we’re buying and put them in through the back door. You need to count money. We need to see that too.”
“Alright then, yeah, I s’pose that’s cool. Just do everything slow cowboy.” ZZ made a forward wave over his head.
As Wes met the slack gaze of the biker, he caught movement back at the screen door of the house again. Three girls came walking out slow, timid and wary. There were two with dark hair and one blonde, shackled together with what looked like hand cuffs and links of heavy dog chains. None of them were over seventeen or eighteen and the shortest, the blonde one, didn’t look a day over fifteen.
Herding them from behind them was another gorilla but this one was grizzled and gray, all washed the hell up. Had a big ass gun, looked like an old Magnum pistol or something. Like the one Dirty Harry had. The old bastard was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
Wes looked back to the lead biker and opened his driver side door. He stepped out slowly holding his pistol purposely in view but pointed at the ground.
“Billy, bring that briefcase with you and come around the front of the van where they can start counting it out.”
“We’re not going to fuck with you man, unless you fuck with us. This’ll be the first of many deals with your boss. Got a steady stream of prime meat that’ll be even better than these.” The lead biker was eyeing Wes close for a reaction as the g
irls got nearer.
“That’s real good to know slick, but you won’t be seeing me again. Don’t care for this kind of traffic…this kind of…shit.”
The girls walked up slowly and they stared at Wes with blank vacant eyes. He looked them over like he’d been told to do. They were dirty and scared, but not cut or scarred up.
“Alright. Back doors are open, get them in there and shut it.” Wes waved them on. “There’s a wire mesh door that’s locked behind the front seat and the doors won’t open from the inside. Let’s get this shit finished.”
They started to walk but then the girls hesitated.
“GO. Go on now, like the feller said” the old gray biker swatted the short blonde hard on the ass. He turned, winked and smiled back at Wes.
“That young little blonde’s a real fine and firm piece, hell they all are. Don’t you be messing with the goods on the way back now.” He yanked on their chains and laughed like a coyote.
“Don’t be telling me what to do and what not to, you old fuck. You probably already tried to taste it yourself.” Wes looked back around at the lead man, then the shotgun guy and finally spit a wad of Red Man out.
“Maybe I did, maybe we all did, but I like ‘em a little younger still.” A big nasty grin came across the old man’s face.
“Billy, open the fucking money case up for them.”
Kingman flipped the briefcase open on the short hood of the van.
“Count it for me Colton” the lead man grinned, “so’s this little holy and righteous smartass can be on his way.”
Shotgun man walked to the van and started leafing through the stacked and neatly bound money. Kingman stood close by, watching him.
The backdoors of the van slammed shut and the older biker came around front again. He gave Wes the key ring to their cuffs and then walked over next to the bearded lead man.
“Hey Wesley, Colton is doin’ the best he can here but damn if he ain’t slow, we might need a recount. He’s runnin’ out of fingers and toes.” Kingman nodded at the Shotgun man and then grinned over at Wes.
Wes didn’t answer but his jaw was really tight now. His helper from El Paso seemed unable to just shut the fuck up and concentrate. This time though, his mouth was actually a good thing.
All three bikers looked at Kingman when he said that and then something just snapped in Wes. Snapped like a dry, dead twig. Without really thinking about it, he took two quick steps in and almost put the barrel on the lead man’s temple, he was that close. The gun cracked sharply, spraying blood all over him and the older biker.
The old man turned his head in slow motion and just stared at him. His partner’s blood was on his nose and cheek. The old fuck’s mouth was making a perfect O, his Dirty Harry gun still pointed at the ground. Almost casually, Wes slid his aim over and shot him square in the forehead, just clean as shit.
By this time, the counter had his shotgun half the way up but he fumbled his grip, then regained it and started to turn. Way too late. Wes had already closed the space and fired two quick torso shots, banging him hard off the van first and then down to the ground.
“Whaaa…WHAT, the living fu-. WES! What the fuck you doin’ man!” Kingman’s voice was as high as one of those girls and he was dancing around in place. Wes could hear those girls crying too, a few muffled screams and some panicked shouts in a foreign language coming from the van.
He walked to the shotgun man and looked down. Wes shot him in the head just for insurance and Kingman danced away again.
“Holy FUCK. Look Wes…holy fuck, man what the FUCK!” Kingman was looking around at the three dead bikers and shaking his head. “We’re fucking dead. What in blue hammered hell you doin’ dude? What…did you DO man?”
“Just decided against this, that’s all. Hell, I couldn’t just kill one of ‘em.”
Wes looked back at the house, wondering if there was another biker boy still in there.
“Are you listenin’ to me you crazy shit? We’re DEAD because of this. Big Poppy is gonna skin us for this. Peel us like oranges....DEAD, we’re fucking dead!”
Wes finally turned his look away from the house and walked towards the briefcase lying on the ground. Kingman was about ten feet away, watching him, pacing back and forth nervously.
“You with me on this or not?” Wes asked him, picking up the last money bundle and putting it back in the briefcase.
Kingman looked at him with big wide eyes, but couldn’t get any more words out. Wes noticed the dumbass didn’t even have his gun.
“Because if you’re not, then you’re right, you’re fucking dead.”
Wes leveled the glock on him as he was talking. “So, what’ll it be?” He raised his eyebrows up a little but that was about the only expression. He could have been talking about the weather.
From the direction of the house, the loose gutter on the house started banging around again with a stronger gust of wind. The girls in the van piped up a little louder too. Wes thought they were maybe Eastern European, but exactly where he didn’t much know or care.
“With you?...WITH you? Wesley, look man, don’t do this. I’ll fuckin’ walk and never look back. You can have the money, the girls, fuck it - take everything. Just let me walk, ‘cause I can’t go in on this.” Kingman was damn near hysterical now.
“I don’t want the girls, hell that’s why I did this you dumbass. I’m lettin’ them go. I will take the money though, just because I guess it’s a little late in the game to be all that fuckin’ noble about everything, huh?”
The rapid chatter and crying was really loud inside the van now but Wes was looking straight at Kingman.
“You know what Billy boy, I guess it don’t matter if you say you’re with me or not on this. I just can’t trust you.”
“You bastard. Wait. Look man, just WAIT.” Kingman was speed babbling again, he held up a hand and started to back away.
Wes shot him right through the palm of that hand he was holding out in front of him. The round came through the hand sloppy and only took his lower jaw away. It had spun Kingman around in a half circle but left him standing somehow. He was weaving around, looking down at his hand when Wes walked in closer and finished him with one in his ear.
The van had gone quiet and the wind had shut down again. It was still, too still.
He put the gun in his belt and reached for his cell. His sister answered on the second ring. A damn miracle in itself right there. He told her to pack quick and take their mother to his cousin Luke. Yes, Luke and Charlene’s place in Oklahoma. Yes, I’ll call them. Yes, Ada. Ada, Oklahoma.
His sister was chattering and making no sense so he told her now, do it right the fuck now. His emergency money stash, about fifteen grand, was up in mother’s attic. Wes told her it was in his old army ranger bag. The big green one with stenciled numbers on it. Take it too.
“Go on now Chrissy. Hurry girl.” She was silent on the other end finally. “GO!…Now”, he yelled into the phone and flipped it shut.
He had to move quickly. Wes didn’t know where he was headed yet but he damn sure had plenty of money. He’d need it no doubt. Delavan and Big Poppy and everybody that worked for them would be hunting his ass. Not to speak of bikers and fuckin’ Russians. Probably head west, snake along the border, maybe go on across if he had to.
Wes walked to the back of the van, fishing the keys out of his pocket as he went. It was still quiet, no screaming now but some low moans and sobbing could be heard. He would just have to let them out here. They’d be on their own but he couldn’t risk lugging them around and then dropping them someplace where people might see him and them together.
He worked the back door latch and opened it up. The three girls were already back against the steel mesh up towards the front but they tried to shrink from him even further. The two older girls were doing their best to shield the little blonde.
The girl on the left spat some quick sharp words at him and curled up her lip. Her hair was matted with sweat and it hung
in her eyes.
They all glared at him with the youngest girl in back hunkered down between them the best she could.
“Svoloch!” The girl on the right spoke up now.
He held his palms up as if giving up.
Smiling at them, he showed the keys to the handcuffs and then circled his wrist with his fingers, pointing at the keys again.
“Don’t mean you any harm girls. Y’all are free.” He turned sideways and waved his arms across the open fields around the farmhouse.
They just kept staring at him though.
“Morgaly vikalyu….Svoloch!” The one on the right looked at the keys but still wouldn’t move.
He had to go and go now, time was ticking. Wes reached inside and set the cuff keys on the floor of the van. Then he held his hands up again and walked back about five steps. He needed to get them the fuck out of the van so he could start putting some space between him and the boys that would be coming for him.
They wouldn’t move. Nothing but wild eyes.
He started to walk back to them, to try to get them out some other way, but the blonde girl in back screamed long and loud. She barked and yelled some words too. Her eyes were big and round. The two older girls, with their eyes locked on Wes, lowered themselves then and the small girl pointed Kingman’s gun at Wes.
Now that the girls had shifted, he could see that Kingman had not locked the little wire mesh door when he had brought the money up. The fucking idiot had probably left his gun on the seat.
Wes just smiled again and held his hands up.
“It’s okay darlin’, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I just want to let you go.”
He took one step back and kept grinning.
The small blonde girl screamed again, her eyes bulging and red. The other two girls knelt even farther down, straining on their leashes and cuffs to cover their ears.
Wes stopped moving.
“I’m no angel hon’, that’s for certain. Going straight to hell in a hand basket too, but I’m sorry for what those old boys might a done to you. I may not know a lot sweetheart, but I know this, this kinda thing just ain’t right.”