by Chris Bostic
“Don’t be a smart-aleck, Grace. I get that you’re upset. Really upset, and you should be, but….”
I waved him off. “Don’t even.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Don’t.”
Through narrow gaps in the forest, I watched the vehicle come toward us, presumably from the direction of Frankfort and the interstate. That got my hopes up that we could hitch a ride. Or several seeing how there were six of us that needed a lift.
As far as I was concerned, Mike and June needed to go first. Pete and Vic could be last.
The vehicle slowed. Tires squealed as it turned.
My heart rate increased. It didn’t make any sense why someone would turn into the distillery, but I wasn’t thinking rationally. All I could do was hope the other soldier had left and sent for help. Or even the two hillbillies who’d been ransacking the office.
No matter what, freedom was close.
The sound of gravel crunching confirmed the vehicle had turned into the property. Then the headlights shut off.
A commotion arose from behind me, back toward the new Visitor Center. June dragged Mike toward us, urging him on. There was no reason to be in a rush to get to the vehicle. Not like that.
But that wasn’t the issue. When she got closer, she shouted, “Run! Hide!”
Questions peppered her, but Mike waved them off, yelling, “Gun!”
CHAPTER 25
Pete stopped short, feet scuffing in the gravel. I skidded past him and slid into the back of Vince. He spun and caught me before I could scrape a knee in the gravel.
“There’s a guy!” Mike said between breaths. “In the doorway!”
“You guys go get Mike!” I nudged Pete. When he didn’t move quickly enough, I repeated it and added, “Help June too!”
Once Pete left, I spun around to take June’s advice. However, I didn’t see anywhere to hide. The woods to the left seemed too open. It wasn’t brushy like the area by the creek, meaning we would stand out between the trees—like a deer, running from the hunters, ready to get shot.
Against my better judgment, we needed to get back inside.
The loading dock where Pete and Vic had been sitting was up ahead. It didn’t look open, but it seemed the best place to try. So I ran on ahead, leaving the others in the dust.
Footsteps pounded behind me. I turned expecting to see Vince, but it was little Vic.
“We need to get that open,” I told her, pointing to the rolling door. “Did you try it?”
“No. We were waiting for you.”
“Sure you were,” I mumbled. “In the wrong place.” I brushed the thoughts aside, as black pots and kettles were all that came to mind. Damn hypocrite.
I reached the dock and did a quick assessment. It was too tall for Mike to climb, but thankfully we could use a ramp on the far side to get him up.
I jumped up onto the dock and went to the door. The metal slats were rusty, but not as bad as I’d expected.
A piece of metal jutted from the bottom, seemingly to use as a toehold. So I hooked a foot under it and lifted. The door budged, but not much. So I crouched to grab hold.
Vic came running up the ramp. She put her hands on the door to help push while I pulled up on the makeshift handle. It squeaked and rose another foot.
“We got this,” I told her. “Again.”
With a groan, I pulled with all my might. It worked.
At four feet high, I stopped. Pete came running past, helping Mike and June to the ramp. She let go to run up first. While they did that, I reached over to grab onto Vince.
I wasn’t sure he could get up there without the ramp, but, of course, he wasn’t going to show weakness. It took Vic’s help, but we pulled him up.
He collapsed to all fours and crawled under the door.
Gravel crunched, though we were all on concrete by that point. It wasn’t footsteps. The rumble of a motor completed the mental picture.
As soon as Mike rolled under, Pete and I tried to shut the door. It squealed in protest. With Vince’s help, we finally got it within inches of full closure. Good enough. Seconds later, the building reverberated from the loud exhaust of a big vehicle.
A collective gasp filled the area, as tired bodies sucked in breaths and held them as the vehicle rolled past.
It was pitch dark. There were no windows on that side of the building, and only one more roll-up door that I had seen while we ran.
I had no idea what was around us until a green glow provided a shred of light. Then the white glow stick came out.
Though uncluttered by the door, the depths were crowded with equipment. Well-aged, rusty equipment.
“So who the hell was out there?” I questioned Mike and June.
“All I saw was a rifle,” she said. “Some dude in like overalls came out the front door holding a big ole rifle.”
“What color?” I asked.
“The rifle?”
“No,” I said, succeeding in not calling her a dumbass. “His clothes.”
“I was too busy looking at the gun.” She turned to Mike. “Any idea?”
“It was the dude from the boat,” he said. “The mechanic guy, I think?”
“Blue jumpsuit?” I asked.
They nodded.
“Where the hell did they get a gun?” I asked.
“And a truck.” Vince had an ear pressed to the door rather than expending the energy to look through the crack at the bottom. “I think it’s passed.”
“They’re cleaning the place out,” I suggested. “Broke the lock and brought a truck to empty it out.”
“They won’t find much in the Visitor Center,” Vince said. “Not even a drop of whiskey.”
“Is that all you ever think about?” Vic alleged sharply.
Vince ignored her to wander a little deeper into the facility with the green glow stick.
“Where you goin’?” she called after him but stayed put. He tossed the white glow stick to her.
“There’s windows down this way,” he said deliberately softer, and pointed toward where we had come from. “I want to see where that truck’s at.”
“We should stay together,” June cautioned.
“I know,” I said, but still moved toward Vince. “I’ll go with him. You guys stay here.” I looked at Pete and Vic. “Right here…and help them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Pete said and gave a mock salute.
It wasn’t so much the sarcasm that bothered me in that moment. The last thing I wanted to think about was soldiers.
I hurried after Vince before the light got too far away. I caught him before he reached the window, which was good since he slipped the glow stick back into his pocket.
“No use advertising our position,” he whispered.
“Good call.”
We snuck the rest of the way to the window to find a film so heavy that outsiders might not have been able to see the light. We couldn’t make out anything other than vague shapes outside.
Vince looked at me. “Should I wipe it off?”
“I guess. Just a little.”
He used the side of his fist to scrub a small area at the bottom corner of the window. So low we had to crouch over, and so small I would have to crowd in next to him. Had it not been an intense moment, I would have wondered if he hadn’t done that on purpose.
I settled in by him and recoiled when his arm snaked around my waist.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Are we not-”
“It’s not you.” I swallowed at a tightness in my throat that had come from nowhere to choke me. “It’s just…everything. Pressure, anxiety, or whatever.”
“I get that.”
He showed me his hand, and very deliberately reached out to me. I leaned in, not letting myself be surprised by anything other than the gentleness in his touch. For such large hands, he had a soft touch.
“What’s out there?” I leaned my head on his shoulder to try to get a look.
“Not much.” He tensed, se
tting me on edge. “Hold on.”
“What is it?”
The beep of a truck backing up pierced right through the side of the metal building. I would have sworn it was practically next to us.
I shivered and clung to Vince.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Looks like they’re backing up to the busted door to load something.”
I took a deep breath. “Let me see.”
He leaned over so I could catch a glance. A beat-up old delivery truck backed across the narrow parking lot. The beeping rattled through the building and all around my brain.
When it finally stopped and the door flung open, I found out Trench Coat wasn’t driving to pick up his toothless buddy. Instead, it was some older guy I had never seen before, with long stringy hair spilling over a faded denim jacket.
“I have no clue who that is.” I leaned back so Vince could look.
“That’s the guy who sold me the tickets…for the boat ride.” He watched a bit longer. “And there’s the bartender.”
“Trench Coat?”
“Yeah. He’s got a load of…I dunno. Files? It’s some kind of boxes.”
“Stuff from the office,” I suggested.
Vince squinted. “And there’s the other guy, Shoeless Joe.” He sat back. “They’re cleaning the place out. But why?”
“To pay for a new boat,” I said, only partly joking. “You know, there’s some pretty old antique stuff upstairs. Everything bourbon is hot now, especially collectibles.”
“Then they’re gonna be here a while,” he said. “Guess we should go tell the others.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen enough.” Too much.
Evidently Vince changed his mind about leaving. He rocked back on his heels and said, “So sit tight or head out?”
“We go tell the others,” I answered. “Like you said, right?”
“Yeah. I meant after that. They’re gonna load the truck and hit the road. Once they leave, then we can make a break for it.”
I sighed. “If we wait ‘em out, that puts us here longer….”
“We can go now if-”
“I don’t know.” I looked back from where we had come and couldn’t see a sign of the others. Not even the white glow. I nodded my head in their direction anyway. “I guess we leave it up to them to decide if we wait it out or go now.”
“Fine by me, but I think I’d rather wait.”
“Then we’ll take our time getting back,” I said.
Vince stood, offering a hand to pull me up.
“I can do it.”
He kept his hand out. “I got you.”
“You’re not so steady.”
“And you are?”
“Sometimes.” I grabbed his hand and let him pull.
He made a show of wobbling to the point that I thought he might actually fall over. He stood up tall and grinned.
“I’m a lot better. See?”
“Only when you’ve got something to prove…or show off.”
“Maybe, baby.” The goofy grin stayed plastered on his face. It was so unusual that I temporarily slipped out of heartless bitch mode. But only for a second.
“Oh, brother. C’mon, Eddie.”
CHAPTER 26
At Vince’s insistence, we didn’t go back the same way we had come. He led us off to the right, a little deeper into the building.
It was all one open room split up by machinery, stacks of boxes, tables, crates, and other things I couldn’t identify in the mild light of a green glow stick.
Vince figured it out quicker. He spun around to say, “It’s the old bottling line. Just no bottles.”
“Huh.”
He pointed out the conveyor system, as well as a big tank at the end of a long trough.
“That’s where they dumped the barrels.”
“And ran it through to here,” I said, tracing the piping overhead to an area where injectors would lower to fill multiple bottles at the same time.
Using the glow stick like a candle, we walked to the end of the line. Cardboard boxes sat stacked off to the side.
Vince opened the one on top and whistled. He reached inside to pull out a wine-shaped bottle. Dark liquid swirled.
He pulled out the cork with a pop and sniffed it. I noticed the little grin return.
“Yum,” he said, and inhaled again. He tipped the bottle almost to his lips, then looked at me as if asking for permission.
“Go on,” I said. “Sobriety can wait.”
Again, I hadn’t meant to be sarcastic. Lord knows at that point I needed more than one stiff drink to calm my nerves.
He held out the uncorked bottle to me.
“You try it first,” I said.
Ordinarily, I know he would have gulped it down. Instead, he took a small sip, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and handed the bottled to me.
“That’s a helluva lot better than those barrels.”
“Good.” I tipped the bottle back and took a big swallow. The liquor burned my throat, along with a warm sensation that ran all the way to the pit of my stomach. The burn felt amazing. I took another swallow before offering it back to Vince.
“I’m good,” he said. “You like it?”
“Not really.” Still, I took another drink and came up for air coughing.
“Easy,” he said, and held out a hand.
“Not so fast.” After another drink, I handed it back to him. He sniffed the liquor and took another sip. The cork went back in, and he went to set it back in the box.
“Hold on,” I said. “Bring it with us.”
“You had enough?”
“Not yet.”
“Trust me, you better go easy.”
“Oh, I know.” I took it back and popped the cork, sucking down a big drink. I savored the burn every inch down to my stomach. I looked up at Vince with eyes watering. “I don’t want to feel anything.” I took another drink, exhaling. “Whew.”
“I know all about that.” He took the bottle back from me and held it to the light. A good portion was already gone. “Damn. You’re gonna feel like shit if you keep this up.”
“Sometimes I want to feel too much.” I chewed my lower lip. “I just wanna….”
The words tumbled around my brain. The liquor hit quickly. Maybe it was the empty stomach. Regardless, my head was swimming in a matter of seconds.
I looked up from the bottle to see Vince staring at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously, what?”
“Just trying not to say something, um, awful? No, stupid.”
“Probably perverted.” My laugh turned into a hiccup.
He shook his head, but I knew I was right.
My eyes dimmed. I blinked away the fuzziness and leaned back against the bottling machine.
“Grace?”
“I’m fine.”
“God are you ever,” he mumbled, maybe hoping I wouldn’t hear. But I wasn’t oblivious, just tipsy.
“Let’s go.” He held out a hand to me. “Come here.”
“You come ‘ere.” When I reached for him, he stepped back. He stayed out of arm’s reach for a change.
“You’re drunk, Grace.”
“So what?”
“I’ll help you, but….”
“But, what? No funny business?” I pouted, craving his touch and getting none.
“Who even talks like that anymore?” He shook his head. “Look, Grace. I, um…I….”
“Spit it out.”
He squinted at me and I nodded encouragingly. I pushed him to say something he shouldn’t. Because, drunk or not, I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing.
“I want nothing more than to be with you,” he whispered. Before I could lean into him, he held up a hand. “But now is the wrong time, Grace.”
“Just now? Or now meaning like never?”
Sad eyes stared back at me. “I…I know what I want, but-”
I pushed through his hand t
o caress his cheek. “I know what I want too.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
I looked up from nestling against his chest. “That hurts.”
Maybe he was right. Actually, I was certain he was right about that part. My head spun, which helped take my mind off everything else that had gone to hell. It was just me and Vince on a crazy carousel. But I was in no condition to do any serious thinking on pretty much any subject.
“Your head’s gonna hurt too. Trust me on that.” He stroked my hair, provoking me to purr like a kitten. A kitten that wanted to rub up against him. I didn’t even know where we were at anymore. And I sure as hell didn’t care.
I’m not sure how long we stood there. The next thing I remembered, Vic’s voice carried through the shop.
“Vince? Grace? Where are you guys at?”
“Awkward,” I slurred, and fought back a chuckle.
“You’re a mess,” Vince said.
“No worse than you earlier.”
“I guess not.”
He turned me around and slipped an arm around my waist to hold me up.
“We’re coming,” he called back to Vic.
“About time.”
Vince looked to me. “Can you walk?”
“Kinda.” My head spun. I wondered if it wasn’t better to throw up right there and get it over with. Maybe it could shortcut the buzz. But I held it in.
“That could be better,” Vince observed after seeing me push off and take a few clumsy steps. “I’ve got you.”
“Nah.” A sudden burst of guilt rushed through me. “They’re gonna see.”
I tried to straighten up. Nearly pulled it off too, but it was too easy to hang onto the nearest machine.
“Dammit, Grace,” he said. “Come here.”
He was probably expecting me to try to make a move again, but I could barely move myself.
“Now ya know how we felt earlier. Dragging your sorry ass up the creek.” I laughed out loud. “Up the creek. That’s some funny shit.”
“I should leave you here,” he replied. I think he was joking, but I couldn’t be quite sure. Evidently he didn’t. The next thing I remembered, I was standing in front of Pete, swaying from side to side. Possibly him doing the swaying, but more likely me.
“Why’d you let her do that?” Pete was saying.