by Kari August
“Return them to this pasture and walk well-rested back to our raft with the flag. A solid win.”
Clarence shook his head. “I don’t know about this.”
Dickie adjusted the camera they all were supposed to be wearing. “Give me one of those disgusting meals.”
Clarence grabbed the package out of his pack, and Dickie squirted some onto his hand. Luckily, there were a couple rope halters by the gate he opened which he placed in his other hand. He proceeded toward the nearest horse and acted as if he had some treat for it.
Five minutes later he led a couple horses out of the pasture, closing the gate behind them.
“What are we going to do about saddles?” Clarence frowned.
“Ride without.” Dickie mounted the friskiest appearing horse.
Clarence stared at his mare. “Look, you know I’ve taken riding lessons to please my son but . . .”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Oh, shit,” he muttered as he straddled awkwardly.
But a minute later he was following Dickie up the mountain.
Dickie was pleased to see that there appeared to be a trail of sorts which his horse seemed to know. Yes, indeed, they were going to win.
“That turd has got to be in some elite force. Who the hell knows how to ride a horse?” Rooter appeared amazed.
“Not many. He improvises too well, that’s for sure. We’ve got one more chance to see him fail.” Bongo looked meaningfully at Rooter.
“I’ll tell everyone to be prepared. This is war, Bongo.”
“Don’t you know it.”
Chapter Twenty
Charlie had won their battle in chess the night before but did not consider it a full triumph. He had realized that Mags was distracted. At times, she would gaze at him so warmly, but there had been other moments when she seemed saddened. By what, he was not sure.
He wondered if it was the fact that they were supposed to leave one another soon. Or was it something deeper? Did she want the reassurance that he loved her? He had not told her so as yet. He was afraid to. He was scared she did not reciprocate his feelings.
Today he had tried to make his car more presentable in the interior before he had picked her back up at the hotel. She had smiled at his effort, but did she still think of him as slovenly? Enough so that it saddened her? Somehow it seemed unlikely. They would not now be both on the way to Wind Cave.
Charlie heard a loud rip which drew him from his deliberations. He glanced behind. Waldemar had taken again to gnawing the corner of his seat.
She looked over frowning. “Are you just going to let him do that?”
Charlie had already tried once to get him to stop. “Well, he’s just a bored puppy on a long ride. I can’t get mad at him.” He realized he was giving his Grandma’s reply from years ago, and he looked quickly over to see what she thought of it.
She smiled as she reached for Waldemar. “I know. But perhaps we could get him more toys.”
Oh, God. Charlie loved her even more if that was possible.
He then thought of something that might ease her mind about him.
“Mags?”
“Hmmm?”
“I think I forget to tell you I’m sorry about . . . you know.”
She chuckled. “Which of the many things you have done or said do you now regret? I am all suspense.”
He smiled ruefully. “Well, I was thinking about when we first met.”
She turned in her seat towards him, suddenly agitated. “Oh, yes! You were so wrong! I was really angry with you.”
“Now, Mags, in my defense, you did have a sweet old woman hauling a huge tray of drinks for you.”
“First off, did you ever think that perhaps Gert wanted to wait on me? That Gert yearned to feel useful still. That Charlena had actually assigned Gert to me, knowing I would not take advantage of the situation. That Charlena trusted me. That I had only requested one drink—even though I did not really crave it—and not a huge pitcher with pastries?”
Charlie hesitated a moment. “Uh . . . in answer to your questions . . . no.”
“Ah, ha,” she said smugly.
Charlie chuckled. “Okay, you win on that one.”
“I most certainly do.”
He swerved off the road onto a gravel side lane.
“What are you doing? Don’t tell me we have to change clothes again.”
He glimpsed over at her. “No, I love that thing you’re wearing today.” She had on a miniskirt with boots that looked like something from the last century. “Did you put that on just for me?”
She smiled slowly. “I might have. But where are we going?”
He drove a bit further away from the main traffic to a deserted section of the rural road. “I have decided to let you drive my car for a bit.”
“Really? That’s wonderful,” she exclaimed excitedly. “I mean I do deserve it, considering your apology.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He came to a stop, glad she seemed truly happy again. The music he had on kept playing. She got out of the car and started doing funny dance steps he had never seen before.
She looked back through the window. “Doesn’t this song just make you want to swirl and turn?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Talk to my sister about that. . . . Mags?”
“Yeah?” She kept dancing while Waldemar cocked his head curiously at her.
“If you want to drive you will have to get back in the vehicle so I can show you some things.”
“Very well.” She slid back in. “What do I have to learn first?”
Fifteen minutes later Mags was driving slowly but steadily down the gravel road. “I love this!” she enthused while glancing at him.
“Geez. Watch the road, Mags. You almost had us in the ditch.”
“Oh, poo. I’m doing fine.”
“Try turning onto this next road.”
She took the curve too swiftly before straightening out. Waldemar started barking. “Ooops.”
“Yeah, ooops.”
“I think I’m doing great.” She drove some more.
“You’re doing okay.”
“I’m doing spectacularly well in fact.”
“If you think you’re so skilled, try parallel parking.”
“What?” She looked over at him again before screeching to a stop at the very edge of the road.
“Oh, my God. If I survive this . . .”
“You’re just being dramatic.”
“You require driving lessons in the future, that’s for sure. We should see to that.” And somehow that statement caused a flickering of sadness to cross over her again. He wondered why.
Then it hit him. She did not know if they had any future to talk about.
Oh, he wasn’t going to lose this woman if he had any say in it. He would do battle before that happened. “Okay, this is the trick to parking. . . .”
Later, Mags glimpsed over at Charlie . . . sorrowfully again. She couldn’t help herself. They were eating carry out dinner in bed while some movie about—she wasn’t even sure she was so upset—played on the television. She knew she had to break up with him. She recognized that eventually she would have to go back to heaven, and then Charlie . . . would inevitably find some nice woman to spend the rest of his life with. She was miserable at the thought.
They had found a hotel near Wind Cave that allowed Waldemar, had practically run up to their room, shed their clothes, made love, and then had decided not to go to a restaurant to eat. Charlie had volunteered to get them some food while she fed and walked Waldemar. He had then returned with fries and hamburgers and plopped eagerly back onto the bed, bouncing her—she was sure intendedly—obnoxiously over. She blew out a breath. Even that she loved about him now. She tried to turn her attention back to the television.
“Mags?” He glanced over at her and noticed her expression. “What’s wrong?”
She tried to appear more cheerful. “Nothing. Just thinking . . .”
He drew her near. “Listen, tomorrow af
ter we talk to the people at Wind Cave about”—he smiled his devastatingly attractive smile—“bison bison, come back to Boston with me.”
She looked over surprised. He was being sincere she could tell.
“I mean it. I want to spend more time with you.”
This was it. She had to tell him they were over.
“I’ve . . . I’ve fallen in love with you.” He looked so happy yet somehow scared.
She gazed at him a moment and replied truthfully, “I love you, too.”
He grinned. “You do?”
She nodded, smiling, though shattering inside.
Oh, what had she done? How had she ever imagined that she could have some romantic fling and not have her feelings involved? How could she have thought she could do this without potentially damaging terribly the person she had found.
Because . . . because . . . she hadn’t realized that people could have such deep feelings attached. All these emotions were new to her. Marriage and partners had been contractual affairs. Oh, she had listened to love ballads and the blather of her friends, but she had thought it was mere exaggeration. She hadn’t known how deep love could be.
This was not going to get any easier tomorrow. She had to cease things now.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t . . .”
“Can’t what? Can’t come to Boston with me?”
She nodded.
He hesitated, appearing unsure what to say.
She tried to let him down gently. “I have things I have to do . . . in Denver . . . with Lindsey and Ned . . . in um, Denver.” That was at least true. She still wanted to build a reputation for herself—it might also keep her busy enough so that she could begin to forget about him.
He grinned widely. “Okay. Then after that we can talk. But we still have tonight and tomorrow so let’s make the best of it.”
She couldn’t help smiling back.
She would . . . break with him tomorrow.
She would.
“Do you mind eating cold food?”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“I got something better I think we could do now.”
Oh, she adored this man—despite what was best for herself and him. And despite what the morrow would bring.
Chapter Twenty-one
Dickie stared out at the large complex of flat-roofed, one-story buildings and sheds they were supposed to breach and enter, then find a target hostage and bring back to hiding. He inwardly shook his head—this was going to be near impossible.
The details were that the teams would be given three days to accomplish the mission—the team completing the mission first got the most points. Clarence and Dickie were not sure where in the surrounding shrubs the jackasses had planted their arses, but they assumed that they also were gazing at the same place. And a little farther along in the brush were probably the warrior team of Red and T.
To try to even the odds, three of the five former Seals were acting as captives—each team only had to find and regain one of the hostages hidden in the structures. The remaining couple Seals, though, would try their best to prevent any taking of the targets and were equipped with the same weapons as them—a type of fake gun that could register their success on the special clothing they were wearing. Any combatant who was hit in the head or torso was deemed out of the game for good.
Dickie did not know exactly where in the standings Clarence and he stood—the director would not say. He guessed that Red and T were leading and that they themselves were close to the jackasses so this final mission would be all important.
They had already been doing surveillance on the buildings for a day. Clarence and Dickie were cramped, sitting in a group of rocks that they had not departed from for hours since the Seals were allowed to hunt them out also. So just as in the television shows they had watched, they had done their business in bottles and on plastic sheets to conceal themselves.
“This is just a bit too much togetherness,” Clarence grumbled as the first bit of greyness began to appear with the new day.
Dickie nodded. “Imagine if this was for real.”
“Not a chance.” Clarence shook his head. “I’ve been entertained this last week but would never even consider doing this for a living. It takes a different sort of person—someone a lot braver and more exceptional than me.”
Or more determined or with some special purpose, Dickie thought—like trying to retain your crown.
“They’re not following any kind of pattern.”
“What?” Clarence glanced over at him.
“We’ve caught glimpses of the Seals patrolling around the buildings, but they’re not doing it in any set fashion.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Should we just make a run for it and see what happens?”
Dickie shook his head. “I’m thinking we should wait until we see the jackasses, trying to enter, then use them as a diversion to scramble to the buildings ourselves.”
“And then what?”
“Hurry over to that huge trash bin.”
“Oh, God. What if it’s full of shit?”
Dickie shrugged. “We’ll have to take our chances. Then as soon as we can, we’ll go looking through the structures for the hostages.”
“What if we don’t see the jackasses making their move—”
“Run, Clarence. This is our chance.” Dickie had caught some commotion along the far side.
Clarence and Dickie descended as quickly as they could, leaping over rocks and shrubs. Dickie glimpsed over and saw that the Seals were in a running fire fight with the jackasses.
Yes! GC was hit. Or was that W? He didn’t bother to look further because they were nearly upon the trash can.
Clarence pulled himself over the side and into the bin. “Awfuck. I just knew it.”
Dickie heard Clarence swear, but then he saw that even if GC was down, W was being allowed to escape back into concealment.
What?
“Let’s get the turd first,” he heard one Seal say to another as they turned his way.
Dickie hurried from the trash can around the corner of the nearest building and kept running.
Clarence looked around in the dimness provided by some cracks in the walls of the filthy bin he was crouched in and blew out a long breath. Dickie was somewhere in the complex either running away or trying to find a hostage himself. Clarence considered whether he should stay in the bin or venture out. But the decision was taken away from him when he thought he heard a person approaching—not loudly but with enough of a disturbance—from tripping? —to catch his attention.
Clarence quickly piled some of the bags of garbage around and on top of himself to conceal his position better. He even opened one over himself. Oh, God! A bag of rotting produce peels! He waited then in silence.
He could not hear any more movement. A couple minutes more went by. Then . . . what was that? Had someone opened the bin and looked in?
He remained perfectly still.
A few more minutes went by without any evidence of him having been detected. He chuckled to himself. He was better at this than he thought. Well, now what should he do?
He decided to remain where he was and wait for Dickie to return. It wasn’t as if the damage had not been done—he already reeked like shit. Besides Dickie and he would have an easier time regrouping if he stayed where he was. He leaned back against a bag and tried not to breathe too deeply.
Dickie had dashed and hid in alcoves and raced until he had finally returned again to the building nearest the trash bin where he assumed Clarence was still hiding. Dickie then found a drainpipe which he used to help climb to the roof. He took a moment to consider their position. He could hear the Seals methodically exploring every building—including the roofs—for either him or the other teams. If Clarence and he did not get going soon they would be caught.
Dickie realized that the annoying rule of this mission was that both partners in a team did not have to get the hostage�
��only one was required to complete the assignment which meant that the jackasses were not totally out of the picture. So, he would have to carry on diligently even though he had learned what he had wanted about modern warfare and weapons—he was more than ready to lead his own warrior club in heaven.
Dickie slipped down the drainpipe as quietly as he could and walked over to the trash bin. He lifted the lid cautiously.
Clarence looked up at him from among the debris. “Thanks a lot, Dickie. This was a great idea you had.”
Dickie motioned. “Hurry and get out. They’re after us still.”
Clarence clambered over the side. “Are you as done with this show as I am?”
“After we beat the jackasses.”
“Forget them. We lasted longer than I thought we would. Let’s just finish this and get some good grub and rest.”
Dickie shrugged reluctantly. “If you want.”
“I want.”
“Well, let’s at least look through this building closest to us for a captive before calling it quits.”
“Fine.” Clarence brushed some foul garbage from his shirt.
Dickie then heard another stirring of activity from across the complex.
“What’s that?” Clarence whispered, seemingly back in the game.
Dickie listened a bit longer. “I bet it’s the warrior team, making their move.”
Clarence grinned. “Another diversion!”
“Indeed. Follow me.” He walked around the corner to where the door was for the nearest building. He tried the handle. “It’s locked.”
Clarence got out the breaching ram from his pack. Dickie winced at the noise as Clarence bashed in the entrance, but there was nothing to be done for it. They walked into the dark interior. They found no one.
There were shouts from far away. “Let’s try one more building,” Dickie suggested.
Clarence shrugged. “You go. I’ll meet you back in the trash bin. I can keep a lookout from there.”
“Okay.”
Dickie skulked around some more corners until he came to another door.
The handle turned for him. He entered to find Rooter, relaxing on a cot, reading a book. Rooter looked over. “Oh, goddamn.”
He hustled Rooter along and into their trash bin and joined him there. Dickie piled some garbage bags around him, but Clarence seemed to take pleasure in opening bags over him.