by Chris Bostic
If anything, our low battery lights were coming on. What I would have done to have had my cell phone at that point. Or hours earlier.
“Hey, Grace?”
“Don’t talk to me,” I huffed. He didn’t follow up, so I added, “I’m just kidding. Sort of.”
“Duly noted,” he replied. “It was nothing.”
“You sure about that?”
He grunted and jerked me to the side. “Watch out.”
I dodged under a particularly low hanging branch. “That was a close one.”
I stopped for a moment, pulling on his hand to signal him. After a quick look around at continual nothingness, I turned to Vince.
“We’re not even headed uphill anymore.”
“You’re just noticing that now?”
I shook my head. “Guess I tuned it all out.”
“That’s a good idea.” He pointed in the direction we were headed. “I thought it might be easier to go kinda side hill rather than straight up. Longer, but not nearly as steep.” He looked around, then cupped a hand to his ear. “Thought we might hear them too. They had to go this way.”
“Unless they found another building to explore,” I replied. “What did we see? Fermenting, distilling at the column still, bottling.”
“Yeah, white dog separator too. And a rack house.”
“Office and locker room. Quite the self-guided tour.” Saying office made me think of the two guys rummaging through the desks. I couldn’t recall if I’d told Vince before. Now that all secrets were out in the open, I let him know.
“You did tell me that already. It’s just weird that they went from losing their boat to ransacking the place.”
“Like you said, they needed money.”
“But how’d they get that truck here?” I asked. “That’s bothering me more than anything.”
“Oh, shit.” Vince smacked his head. “What a dumbass.”
“Cousin Eddie moment?” I asked. “What is it?”
“There was a CB radio on the boat. I saw it. Totally forgot about it, but I saw it.”
“Could they have called for help?”
“I never saw them do it. Not while I was busy playing bartender…but maybe after it capsized?”
“When Trench Coat disappeared!” I said. “Blue Shirt, I mean Toothless, was at the back of the boat hanging on. Then I turned around and he was gone.”
“To get to the radio, I’ll bet. I don’t think that side went underwater, at least not right away.” Vince clucked his tongue. “Damn. He prolly told his buddy to pick him up at the distillery, to steal some shit under the guise of gettin’ picked up.” Vince grumbled under his breath. “And they didn’t give a damn about the rest of us.”
“It sure looks that way.” I scratched my head. “But Shoeless or Toothless or whatever, told us to come here. Very specifically.”
“Thinking we couldn’t make it. Or maybe just feeling bad?”
“Or not on the same page as Trench Coat.” I shook my head. “I’m so confused, and that’s not the whiskey talking.”
CHAPTER 31
There wasn’t any point in dissecting motives. We were burning moonlight. Not that there was more than a sliver, but a little bit was better than pitch dark.
We kept going through the forest, intent on working our way out to the highway. Vince kept quiet. Maybe he ran out of things to say, or didn’t want to bother me. I don’t think I would have minded either way, but the quiet was peaceful in its own way.
I concentrated on the sound of his feet scuffing through the wet, leafy blanket on the forest floor, and tried to match my footsteps with his.
He kept a grip on my hand, occasionally grinding my engagement ring in the process of ducking around obstacles. Perhaps it should have triggered more emotions, but I was over it at that point.
I watched Vince to see if he reacted whenever he touched it, but the man was impassive. Possibly he was oblivious, but it seemed unlikely. The way the diamond gouged into my finger couldn’t be ignored, at least not physically.
In a sense, we’d addressed the issue directly already. Not the ring, but basically everything that went along with it. My mind had been made up to cheat, evidently, which I didn’t even want to think about in such a direct sense. But unavoidable. We’d talked about maybes, about possibilities, but not enough to commit. At least not on my part. Not while commitment ringed my finger.
Guilt tore me from both directions. Mostly from Pete’s, since he deserved better than what I had already done. And was likely to do.
Mostly it felt wrong to hold onto Vince while wearing another man’s band. So, in a sense, it felt right the way it gouged us both.
It would have been easy enough to slip off at that point. The exertion involved in climbing the hill had my forehead slick with sweat. For once, the moisture on my cheeks wasn’t tears, and I took joy in that.
A sliver of moonlight cut through the trees. I watched a bead of sweat glisten on Vince’s spine. It ran between his shoulder blades and down his toned back, until I lost it in the shadows.
An actual shadow, I realized, and looked up. The moon had come almost directly overhead. Gaps showed through the tree canopy.
“It’s thinning out,” I told Vince.
“Uh huh.” He slackened his pace to a slow walk. “We’re almost out.”
“For real this time?”
“Definitely.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“I still don’t see the road,” he pointed ahead, “but it looks like a clearing up there. Maybe some kind of little building.”
“Not more of the distillery?”
“I don’t know. I hope to hell not.”
I stepped to his side to get a better look. “Still no lights, though.”
“No, but it’s up there. See it.”
I made out an unimpressive shape. “That little shack?”
He nodded and pulled me forward more quickly. We ramped up to a fast walk and closed on the structure. The last twenty yards were rough, as we burst through some thicker underbrush to emerge along the side of a narrow road. The far side was tree-lined as well. Still it felt great to be out in the open, which wasn’t something I would have said an hour or two previously.
“Halle-freaking-luiah!” I said.
“Hell, yeah. Freedom.” Vince put his hands over his head to catch his breath. I followed suit.
A barbed wire fence stretched from the woods out to the road. I stayed clear of the wire, but took a couple steps closer to the road and stared at the surface.
“Gravel,” I said. “But it’s a road.”
“Not the highway.” With the shed directly in front of us at ten paces, Vince took a couple more steps past me and looked both ways. “The distillery is back to the right, just like I thought.”
“Good. So the highway’s to the left?”
“Yeah.”
“At least we didn’t get turned around. I don’t know how you managed.”
Vince angled around to get a better look past the shed. “There’s a gate. It’s the main entrance.”
I hurried over to have a look.
A pair of heavy metal tubes, fashioned into sideways V-shapes mounted on giant posts, stretched from each side of the driveway to meet in the middle. Vince walked out toward it.
“Locked. Keep Out sign too.”
“So the truck came through here?”
“I assume.” He rattled a heavy chain. “If so, they have a key.”
“Must have. They didn’t cut around through the barbed wire.”
“That’s weird for someone ransacking a place.”
I was too tired to think about it. We stood silhouetted in the faint moonlight for a minute. I assumed we would walk to the road, but Vince headed to a door on the shed.
The whole shack was barely wider than the door, and about as deep. Vince pulled on the handle and the entire structure shook.
“Locked.” He pulled again. “No windows.”
“It
doesn’t look that old,” I remarked.
“I think it’s pretty new. The gate doesn’t look bad either.” Vince went back over to the gate to check out the padlock. “Those guys are picking the lock somehow.”
A hum of tires on asphalt came to my ears like salvation. I spun toward where I thought the highway would be, and spotted headlights in the distance. Coming our way.
The hum grew closer, becoming more of a whine. Then a roar of a bigger vehicle. Not a car. Maybe a pick-up truck or larger.
We stood in the driveway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the highway. When the vehicle came clear of the trees, obviously slowing to turn, Vince moved over to block my view.
He spun around and practically shoved me behind the shed. “Get down, Grace! I don’t like this.”
“Who? What?”
He held me back so I couldn’t see, and said, “I think we’re about to find out how they get in.”
“Oh, shit.”
I hunkered down next to him, putting the little building between us and the headlights.
The truck rumbled, brakes squealed. The headlights bore down on the gate, then shut off. Just like I’d seen before. Except this time an orange glow remained.
Vince motioned for us to slide around to the back side of the shed. I followed on his heels, hunched over to duck walk.
He stuck his head out for a quick peek and pulled back.
“Shoeless is driving,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “No one’s on the passenger side.” He stared at me with a sudden intensity. “When he opens the gate, we rush him.”
“What about the gun?”
A door creaked open. Footsteps crunched on gravel.
“I don’t see it,” Vince replied.
“Man, I don’t like this.”
“We’ve got the element of surprise.” He showed that cocky, crooked grin that used to annoy me. In a way, it still did. “Besides, Shoeless can’t take me. I’ll break him in half.”
I shook my head. “No. Your ankle?”
“Don’t worry. We got this.” His smile faded. “Trust me, Grace.”
I weighed the odds. Two on one, plus surprise. Then again, meth heads seemed unpredictable. But so were we. Maybe not the best idea, but it was our way out of there.
“Fine. Let’s go get a ride.”
Vince’s smile came back, less cocky and more joyous. “That’s my girl.”
CHAPTER 32
The chain rattled.
We crept around to the side of the shed. Vince stepped through the barbed wire cautiously, then held two strands open wide so I could also slip through unscathed.
He stayed in front to where I couldn’t see exactly what was going on at the gate. But I didn’t need to. Vince would take Toothless down. I was there for back-up.
My fists clenched and unclenched. I wanted to duck back in the woods and get a heavy stick or something. The idea of being weaponless didn’t sit as well with me as it used to. I wasn’t going to be caught unarmed again.
The chain rattled louder. That could be turned into a weapon to use against us.
I poked Vince in the back. “We need to get him before he gets that chain off.”
“Good call,” he whispered back. “Ready?”
I tapped him on the shoulder. He took off like a linebacker, screaming, “Aaargh!”
I could barely keep up, but didn’t need to. Toothless turned long enough to see Vince barrel into him. Arms wrapped around the meth head’s midsection, he piledrove him like an unsuspecting quarterback.
They hit the gravel with a sickening thud, the skinny guy’s body skidding on the rocks.
It was enough to make me wince and hold up. “Damn.”
Vince climbed up on his chest and mashed an arm under his chin.
I recoiled in horror. Flashbacks planted me as useless as a daylily on the side of the road.
“Don’t even think about moving,” Vince growled, raising a fist to threaten him while keeping pressure with his forearm.
Toothless coughed. He choked and sputtered. And quit wriggling.
My stomach churned. I coughed too, like I was about to empty my stomach contents again, but the only thing left was bile. It rose to the back of my throat, making me gag.
“Get the chain,” Vince told me, while keeping a fist ready to strike.
I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t move.
“Grace!”
Still nothing. I just stared at Toothless, crushed under a larger man. Being choked. Unable to breathe.
Vince turned to look at me. His voice instantly softened. “Grace? Is the chain undone?”
I blinked. Slowly. Then I had to look away.
“Grace? I got him. What’s wrong?”
“I just…can’t,” I said staring at my feet.
Toothless coughed again, sickly wet.
“Don’t fucking move.” Vince slid off him, but kept the arm across this throat. Then he flipped him over, pulling his arms behind his back.
“Wh-whoa,” Toothless stammered. “Why you-”
“Just shut up,” Vince said. “We’re taking your truck. You can sit right here, tied to the goddamn gate.”
Toothless cleared his throat, but the words still came out ragged, saying, “I come back for y’all.”
“The hell you did. To finish us off maybe.”
“Wait,” I told Vince. With the guy sitting up, the flashbacks had subsided. I walked over to them and asked Toothless, “What do you mean?”
“We was looking for y’all.”
Vince looked around. “Who’s we?”
“Me and Julian. He’s out with Daddy drivin’ the hard road.”
“Trench Coat, right?” I asked.
Toothless squinted at me. “Yeah, Julian wears a long coat.”
“Why should we believe you?”
Toothless turned his head to clear his throat and spit. “I told y’all to come up ‘ere. Daddy brought the big truck over.” He looked from me to Vince. “We honked for you guys to come out.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” Vince said. “You had a gun. We saw it.”
“That thing don’t shoot, man. It’s an ole flintlock.” When I furrowed my brow in confusion, he said, “An old timey decoration…for the bar.”
I looked to Vince for confirmation.
“It coulda been.” He paused to consider. “June said it was wooden, and kinda longer than a deer rifle.”
“So why are you even here?” I asked. “I mean besides supposedly looking for us. Shouldn’t the cops be doing that?”
“Why? Wasn’t nobody hurt or nothing. Just wet.”
“Why do you have a key?” Vince added before I could follow up.
“We own this place. Julian and me are fixing it up.”
“You have enough money to buy a distillery?” Vince laughed and jerked Toothless’ arms to keep them behind his back. “Or was it drug money that paid for it?”
“It was abandoned. Crumbling. Hardly worth a dime when we got it in the tax sale.” Toothless cleared his throat. I imagined he was dying to rub it. “Daddy helped us out too.”
Vince looked to me. “You buyin’ any of this?”
“Maybe.” I stared at Toothless. He nodded, his eyes pleading. There was no malice there. Only fear, and pain from Vince pulling on his wrists. “Let him go. But don’t you even think about running off.”
“Grace?”
“I believe him.”
“Alright.” Vince dropped his hands.
Toothless stretched out his wrists. Then massaged his throat. He looked to me and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Vince stayed right at his side ready to pounce. That was fine with me. Though I had a good feeling about him, it wouldn’t have completely surprised me if he had decided to run off. He wouldn’t attack, not with Vince having manhandled him already. But I could see him run like a weasel.
So I went to the gate to check the lock. The key remained stuck in it; the padlock open but still holding the chain together.
So I pulled off the lock and unwound the chain.
The gates didn’t swing open without a push. So I gave them a gentle shove to clear the way, then turned back to Toothless with a question.
“Why’d you turn the truck lights off?”
“We don’t want no one to know wha’s back ‘ere. Or that folks even go back ‘ere. Meth heads’ll rob you blind.”
“It takes one to know one,” Vince said a little harsher than I expected. I wanted to chide him for it, but not in front of our prisoner.
Toothless hung his head. “I been there. I’m clean now. Three years.” He gazed off down the road toward the distillery. “This is my chance to turn things ‘round. ‘Specially now the boat’s gone.”
Vince wasn’t done with the interrogation, though he was less confrontational when he said, “You left us at the river. You could’ve waited and brought us up here with you.”
“I had to find Julian. I told y’all where to go, easy-like. You couldn’t have got lost.”
“And you found him?” I asked.
“Yeah. He was checkin’ the radio. He called back to the shop to have Daddy bring the truck out to pick us all up.” Toothless rubbed his throat again. “Before the boat sank all the way.” He shrugged in what I took to be an apologetic way. “I reckon the message got garbled, ‘cause Daddy loaded up some boxes of new stuff for the store before he come out.”
“The store?” I asked.
“Yeah, down there.” He pointed toward the distillery, though we couldn’t see any sign of it. “We’ve been workin’ on buildin’ furniture for the bar, and getting shirts and stuff made for the lobby.” He turned to Vince first, then me. “Man, what happened to your shirt? And your face, ma’am?”
“Don’t ask.” Vince said. “So the truck was dropping off stuff earlier, not hauling it out?”
“Yeah, man.”
That really caught my attention, and brought on a pointed question. “Did you go back to the tasting room?”
“Nah, just the bar this time. We honked for y’all to come out and hitch a ride. Julian thought he heard ya in the place. Thought maybe y’all was the ones that broke our lock.”
“We were there alright,” I said softly. “At least one is still there.”