by Chris Bostic
Ultimately, I decided to avoid Trench Coat. Toothless seemed sort of harmless enough, but Trench Coat gave me the creeps. The building couldn’t be hiding anything worse than a run in with him. That wouldn’t prove to be entirely true, but it seemed like the best move in the moment.
Several minutes elapsed while I listened for the two men. They had been quiet at first, but no doubt remained in the office. That was confirmed when they started making a bit of a racket.
Chairs scraped across the floor. Something wooden opened and shut. That sealed the deal for me. I had no idea what they were looking for, and decided I had no interest in finding out. It was definitely time to go. Quickly.
I let the door shut softly behind me, then took off to the right at a quick walk. The floors creaked, but I kept going seeing how the next room was close enough ahead that I would reach it before the guys could double back—if they could even hear me over the pillaging they had going on.
I entered the big room, and quickly hunkered down off to the side to catch my breath. At first glance, I didn’t have a clue what it was used for. None of the typical thoughts came to mind other than store room, though there didn’t seem to be much in the way of supplies.
As my eyes adjusted, I made out rows of shelves lining the far wall. Dingy cardboard boxes were stacked on them, seemingly to the ceiling. The closer wall, off to my left, was lined with metal filing cabinets.
That was all I needed to see, barring a better light source. So I worked my way along a bare wall toward a glow off to the far right. That opened into another stairwell.
A ladder led up to a huge skylight the size of the stairwell. Given the condition, a large crack all the way across the glass, I covered my head with my hands and headed downstairs at a run.
I hit the landing at the third floor, hellbent on getting back to floor two where Pete and Vic were at. As I rounded the corner to head down, the door flung open.
It slammed into the wall. I screeched to a halt, nearly tumbling down the next flight. Clutching the railing, breath ragged, I primed to fight, or maybe flight.
A big figure appeared in the doorway.
“Gracey!”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Okay, but Vince is fine too.”
I clutched my chest. “You scared the shit outta me.”
“Bummer.” He grinned. “I just found a bathroom too.”
I shook my head, my chest heaving. Unlike the soldiers, he didn’t seem inclined to stare. At least he had that going for him. Bad jokes too.
Vince motioned back toward the door. “You gotta see this.”
“The bathroom?”
His eyebrow raised. “If you want.”
“What?” I asked, then reminded myself that he was still drunk. “We need to find the others. They’ve been waiting.”
“They can wait.”
“I don’t know about that.” I had no clue about timing, but it had clearly been a while. Surely much longer than anyone had anticipated.
“Oh c’mon, Gracey.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “What’s another minute. I’ll go if you quit calling me that.”
“That?”
“Not that. Gracey, Vinny. Or is it Vincey?”
“Point taken.” He offered a hand to shake. “You have a deal.”
“You have a…” I let the insult remain unsaid. It would be quicker to get the detour over with that way.
Vince held the door open. “Ladies first.”
That one I couldn’t resist. “After you then.”
“Very funny, Gracey…I, O, U. And sometimes Y.”
“Why, indeed? Why me?” I shook my head and stepped through the door. At least I had someone with me. Besides, Vince had been excited enough about his find that I was willing to take a quick peek.
“Peep this,” he said, jumping ahead to lead me toward a railing at the far end of an open floor. He pointed into a pit on the lower level.
Foul brown water filled a pair of open concrete tanks. Leaves and something akin to mold floated on the surface.
“That’s disgusting,” I said. “You really wanted me to see that? I’d just as soon have seen the bathroom. Unless that’s it, like a septic tank.”
“You know what that is down there? Seriously.”
Never one to give up, I leaned back over the railing. My septic tank guess seemed spot on, but that made no sense being exposed on the inside of a building.
A building that made bourbon. Where tanks were used to hold things like grain, water, mash.
“The fermenting tanks?”
Vince looked disappointed. “You cheated.”
“Did not!”
“You saw the sign.”
“What sign?” I asked.
“On the wall.” He pointed to a faded metal sign, barely legible, reading Fermenter.
“I didn’t see that,” I said. “Besides, what other kind of open tank would there be? And it kinda looks like the Bourbon Pompeii exhibit thing we saw at Buffalo Trace.”
Vince nodded, and erased the frown. “True. You’re not as dumb as you look.”
“Damn, dude. I’m not even blonde.”
“But Vic is. What are you trying to say?”
“That you’re drunk and we need to go find her.”
“Maybe.” He leaned over the railing and stared wistfully at the tank.
“Maybe what? You’re obviously drunk.” When he didn’t reply, I said, “We should go.”
“Sure.” Still he didn’t budge.
“They sent me up here to find you.”
“I reckon I need to find myself first.”
I stepped back from the railing to lean against the wall to put a little distance between us. This was a conversation he needed to have with Vic, not me.
He didn’t take the hint.
CHAPTER 16
Vince tapped the railing and motioned for me to stand next to him, but I declined. If not for the cursed soft streak in my cold heart, I would have walked out right then.
Next thing I knew, he was knee deep in spilling his guts about a whole host of things I had been keenly unaware of, and others I only knew obliquely.
“When my parents split, my brother and I had to choose. I don’t know what was worse, an alcoholic father or a mother who was an expert at pretending everything was fine.” He looked up at me with a vacant expression. “Wonder who I turned out like?” A hollow laugh echoed. “Damned if it wasn’t both of ‘em.”
I didn’t know what to say in that moment, but standing in the corner didn’t seem like the right thing. So I stepped back to the railing.
“So I joined up,” he continued. “The Marines were gonna make a man out of me. About all I learned in Basic was gettin’ drunk every weekend, and pushing as far as I could to the limits of not gettin’ a disciplinary.” He scoffed. “Somewhere along the way in bumfuck Afghanistan I turned into the class clown. The one who still got wasted, just more frequently.”
He was clearly vulnerable. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but it seemed deeper than that.
“You see combat?”
“It’s hard to describe. Everyone kinda did, you know? Even the desk jockeys, the medical team, civilians. You never knew when the rockets would fly, or when a trip across town would leave you crippled for life. Goddamn IEDs were everywhere.”
“That’s stressful.”
“I think it was the body bags.”
“Oh….”
“That’s when it all changed. Having a buddy lose a leg was bad. Another had his face messed up and lost an eye. But the black bags. The planes loading up to bring the boys home.”
The extra sarcasm about going home was not lost on me. “Jesus, Vince.”
“Pick a name, will ya?”
The sudden break in character had me wondering. “You been bullshitting me this whole time? Like it’s a big fucking joke?”
“I wish. It’s what I do. How I hide the emotions. Whiskey and stupid jokes.”
“You
’re not the only one.”
“It’s worse some days, and for no particular reason. Loud noises used to set me off, but that’s pretty much gone now. The thunder didn’t bother me at all. Hell, even nighttime or darkness or whatever is no big deal.” He shrugged. “Other days, shit gets way too real.”
“I don’t know, but it sounds like PTSD.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck that is.” He looked me in the eyes and shook his head. “Yeah. Probably. I dunno.”
“There’s like people you can talk to, isn’t there? To get help?”
“Me?” He chuckled.
“You should consider it.”
“That’s so not me.”
“You’re talking right now.”
He cracked a thin smile. “Yeah, I guess so.” He straightened up a bit before slumping back over the railing. “It does feel a bit better.”
“Good.”
“It’s been hard coping,” he whispered. “Or not coping.”
“I won’t deny that you’ve clearly got a drinking problem, but maybe this is progress.” Speaking from experience, I felt oddly moved to put my hand on his chest. “I think you have a hardened heart in there. You’ve been through a lot of shit, but it’s not too far gone. There’s kindness, generosity, love to share.” I pulled my hand back, suddenly uncomfortable with the intense way he looked at me. It was so penetrating it scared me a bit.
I had no reason to be alarmed though, and felt ashamed at my reaction when he said, “I don’t know about all that. It sounds good. I mean I want to believe it. I just don’t know how to get there sometimes. I kinda wonder if I like it this way, you know? Letting Vic think she can fix me then showing her there’s no way.”
“I know that frustrates her. She gets her hopes up, then….” I shrugged. “Seems like it’s hard on both of you.”
“Nah, it’s easier.”
I found that incredibly hard to believe. “Really? Is it?”
“Hell no. I just tell myself that.”
“You just have to find a way to shake off that tough exterior every now and then. Quit drowning your feelings, and maybe let them out for a while. Kinda like now, only maybe we should save it for later. Like when we get home.”
“I’m not ready for that.”
“For apologizing?”
“For home,” he said. “That’s when it gets real.”
“Maybe you should think about those apologies. Make amends. Maybe put away the bottle and open up?” I struggled to find the right words, and blurted, “To…um, be a better you?”
“Now you had to go and ruin it with some of that lame better you crap.”
“Okay, that was weak. I’ll give you that.” I smiled at him. “No one ever said I make a good motivational speaker. I can barely motivate myself.”
“Seems like you do pretty well.”
“Anything looks better compared to you.” I bumped him with my shoulder to let him know I was kidding.
He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m a mess.”
“You’ll get it figured out…if you want to.” I locked eyes with him. “Do you?”
He nodded. “More than anything.”
“Good. I’d say that’s a breakthrough.”
He turned to look at me, eyes brimming with sincerity. For the first time in a while I felt like I’d actually done something useful. So, of course, we had to ruin that with jokes.
“Thanks,” Vince said. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re amazing, Grace?”
“What? No how sweet the sound?” I sang back.
“Nah, but I do feel like a wretch…whatever that means.”
“Someone will save you, wretch.” I laughed to try to keep lightening the mood. “You can be once was lost, but now found.”
“Blind and now see.” He shook his head. “Things sure took a turn there from psychoanalyst to preacher. Seems like something our bible thumpers would be onboard with.”
I paused for a second at his unexpected assessment of our fiancés, then said, “I suppose they would. It’s harder for us when that’s not how we’re programmed to think. The bible stuff isn’t my first place to turn, you know? And that’s where everything is based for those two.”
“I think we do okay for a couple heathens.”
“Speak for yourself,” I joked. “I’m an angel.”
“Your singing could use some work, but at least you know all the words.”
“If you don’t know Amazing Grace, then you’ve got problems.”
“Reckon I am pretty lucky to know her.”
“I meant the song.”
“Maybe I did too.” Vince shoved off the railing. “Let’s not talk about this, huh?”
“This?”
“All this.” He looked back over his shoulder. “We just came to check out a nasty fermenter. Nothing else.”
“Yep, lost and now found.” I lowered my voice. “Look, you can talk to me anytime, if you want. But your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell.”
“Thanks, Grace.” He took a deep breath. “I really, truly appreciate that. No joke.”
“Good. That wasn’t nearly as awful as I thought it would be.” When he looked at me curiously, I said. “Maybe I could get into this whole sharing your feelings thing.”
“Next time it’s your turn.”
“I guess that’s fair.” I stuck out my hand. “Deal?”
Vince pulled me in for a hug. That wasn’t nearly as awful as I thought it would be either—at first. Mid-embrace, the far door opened. Pete and Vic came strolling through.
CHAPTER 17
“What the heck’s going on here?” Pete said sharply.
“We’ve been looking all over for you guys,” Vic added.
I had no clue what to say. No doubt I looked like a kid with a hand caught in the cookie jar. Or wrapped around someone I shouldn’t have been with. Fortunately, Vince was much quicker at bending the truth.
“Sorry. I’m moving a bit slow.” He kept an arm wrapped around my shoulder even though I had tried to slip away. “I needed a shoulder to lean on. I twisted my ankle on the stairs.”
“Not great,” I whispered to Vince when Pete looked at Vic suspiciously.
“I’m done with the lying,” he said, eliciting a curious glance from me.
“You just did.”
“I actually did twist it. Why’d you think I was holding onto the railing?”
After opening up like he had, I couldn’t believe he was still lying straight to my face. “You walked across the room to get to the railing.”
“I gritted my teeth the whole way. Couldn’t let you see me weak.” He winked so they couldn’t see that, and I knew then he wasn’t totally insincere. Maybe even taking things a little more seriously.
What started as a flush of pride, ended up turning into a burning in my stomach. The whole situation made my insides clench. I was getting too close to someone I probably shouldn’t, and had been busted at an inopportune moment by the exact worst people.
Then again, I had no reason to apologize. Or lie. What was a hug among friends? Only a guilty conscience could cause a reaction like the one I had. My head was as twisted as my stomach in the moment. It wasn’t quite like the nausea I had earlier, but heading that direction.
“Here you go.” I backed off so Pete could take his buddy off my back, so to speak. “He’s a load.”
“Thanks for the lift,” he told Pete.
“What’s over there anyway?” my fiancé asked him.
“Oh, you guys have gotta see this.” Vince’s face lit up. “It’s like that, uhm, thing at Buffalo Trace.” He looked to me for help.
“Bourbon Pompeii,” I said. “Only grosser.”
“Sounds lovely,” Vic said. “Can we get outta here?”
“Just check it out,” Vince insisted. “Remember those cool old cypress tanks at Woodford? Man, this is nothing like that.”
Pete helped Vince over to take a look, where Vince made a show of grabbing onto the railing. I thought
he was overdoing it a bit; however, Pete was too distracted by what he saw below to notice.
“What the heck? That’s definitely not mash.”
“Could have been once,” Vince said.
“Full of leaves and crap?” Pete scratched his scalp. “How’d that happen?”
“Broken windows” I suggested.
Vince nodded. “Or an open door…or both.”
“Nasty,” Pete said. “So glad you made me see that. I’m just happy it doesn’t stink to high heaven.”
“That’s true,” Vince agreed. I was less convinced, since the whole place had a distinctive musty odor, though I couldn’t necessarily tie it to the fermenter. “Anyway, it was more about the tanks. Can’t say that I’ve seen one made of concrete.”
“It’s definitely industrial,” Pete said. “This whole place screams factory, and not in a good way.”
“Other than the castle front,” I noted. “Behind the scenes, things don’t look the same as what’s on the surface. That’s kinda…”
I caught myself before I said more. Though completely unintentional, I wondered if that wasn’t a metaphor for a whole bunch of different things going on in my life. I flashed through a few: Vince’s jokes, my aloofness, me hugging Vince, the ring on my finger.
“Everyone puts up a façade,” Pete was saying when I tuned back in. “It’s not all fun and games on the inside.”
Before we waxed even more philosophical, I said, “No it’s not. We need to get outta here.”
Vic was completely onboard with that. Having not even come over to look, she stood by the door tapping her fingers against the wall. “Anytime, people.”
“We’re coming,” Pete replied.
Vince made a show of leaning on his shoulder. I wondered how long he could keep that up. Maybe his ankle hurt, but I couldn’t see him hanging onto Pete for the rest of the day.
I figured a crutch might help. He seemed needy—not in a bad way, and I’d been all too willing to lend him an ear. Still, the time had come for walking, not talking. So I looked around the room as we headed over to Vic, but couldn’t find anything for him to lean on besides us. So be it.