I stared grimly out into the distance, shivering, and more than a little uncomfortable with the situation I was in. No one knew where I was. It might be time to let someone know my predicament, just in case I ran into some real trouble. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket so I could text Cal. I cupped a hand over the screen and pressed a button. The screen lit up. I started to type when the truck veered. I put a hand down to keep from rolling across the truck bed. The phone screen shone brightly in the darkness. A shout came from the cab. The truck slowed down and Marv yelled something to Jack. Probably, “Hey, there’s an idiot in the back of the truck.”
The next few seconds seemed like a slow motion movie sequence, except not nearly as glamorous. I scrambled to my knees and peered over the side of the truck. We were flying down the road. I got into a crouch, my stomach a knot. At this speed, I did not want to jump from the truck. Then Jack slammed on the brakes. The truck suddenly slowed and my momentum changed. My hands flailed into the air. My phone flew up and away as I stumbled backward. I fell hard into the tailgate, lost my balance, and flipped right over it. I crashed onto the dirt road and did exactly what you’re supposed to do on those odd occasions when you fall from the back of a truck: tuck and roll. It didn’t help much. But I didn’t have time to worry about my newfound aches and pains.
Up ahead, the truck careened on the dirt road, swerving to a stop with a cloud of dust.
I bear-crawled to the side of the road and threw myself into a ditch. Behind me, Jack and Marv piled out of the truck.
“Where is he?” Jack hollered.
I put my head up. About fifty feet down the road, Jack stood near the tailgate, his head darting all around. Marv had his hand on the open passenger door. The truck’s headlights cut a brilliant path in the road ahead of them. Behind them, the moon’s glow did little to dent the darkness.
“You got a flashlight?” Marv asked.
“No,” Jack said as he walked to the edge of the road. “I can hardly see a thing.”
Marv slammed the door shut. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said.
“He fell off this way.” Marv pointed to the side of the road where I hid.
I crawled away from them as quickly and quietly as I could, glancing over my shoulder to see what they were doing.
Jack walked a few feet and gazed down into the ditch. Then he gazed across the field. “You think he took off toward town? Or maybe he’s in the ditch.”
I froze.
“Turn the truck around and shine the lights behind us,” Marv said. “I’ll look along the side of the road.”
I swore under my breath. A car door opened and shut, then the groan of the diesel engine broke the silence. Now was the time to run because they wouldn’t hear me over the din of the engine.
I rose to a crouch and took a step forward. Then I winced at the throbbing in my left foot. I had at the very least sprained my ankle in the fall from the truck. I checked over my shoulder again. Jack was turning the truck around. The headlights fanned over the field. I gritted my teeth and ran forward. My leg wobbled and I grimaced in pain. I limped in a crouch-crawl as the truck completed its turn. I was making little progress. Then I spotted a drainage ditch. I blocked out the pain in my ankle and hurtled toward it.
“Drive along the edge of the road,” Marv called out to Jack.
The concrete drainage ditch was about three feet wide and two feet high. Bramble and dead weeds surrounded the opening. I pushed them aside and crawled in. Frozen mud and ice covered the bottom. I pulled myself far inside and stretched out.
The drone of the diesel engine grew closer.
“I don’t see anything,” Marv hollered.
“Check there.” Jack’s faint voice said.
The engine growled right above me.
“I can’t see anything.”
I held my breath and froze. Marv’s voice echoed into the ditch. He was looking into the entrance!
“Aw, this is useless.” Marv’s voice was further away now. “Whoever it was, he’s gone. Let’s go home.”
I couldn’t make out what Jack said. Then I slowly let out my breath.
“Whoever he is, he doesn’t know where we’re going.”
I silently agreed and fervently wished they would stop their search. Jack must’ve thought the same thing because a door slammed shut, the engine roared and then died away.
I began to shiver as I crept to the entrance of the ditch but waited at the opening and listened. I worried that they were trying to trick me, making me think they’d driven away, while Marv actually stayed behind while Jack drove the truck down the road and waited. After a long time, I was sure that they had indeed left. So I inched past the brambles and stood up. Darkness surrounded me. I had no idea how far I was from Deer Trail. In the faint haze of moonlight, I surveyed myself.
My pants were a mess of dirt and mud. One knee was torn. I wiggled a finger inside the rip and winced. My knee was scraped and bleeding. My right shoulder ached and my head pounded. My hands suffered scrapes and bruises as well. I sighed. No broken bones but every inch of me ached. The worst was my ankle.
I put some weight on it and flinched. I reached into my pocket for my phone so I could call for help. Then realization hit me. I’d dropped my phone when I fell from the truck. I stared up the road. It could be anywhere.
“Unbelievable” I said to no one.
There was no way I’d find the phone in the dark. I took another step and grimaced. It hurt to walk on the ankle but I didn’t have a choice.
I limped into the road, cursing my wingtips, and headed back to Deer Trail.
CHAPTER TEN
I wasn’t sure what time it was now. I’d first walked into Deer Trail about eight. It couldn’t be much more than an hour later. I was hurrying as fast as I could, but my progress was still painfully slow because of my ankle. A breeze blew up around me, chilling me more than I already was. I yanked the collar of my coat up around my ears and stuffed my hands in my pockets. But the cold still crept through the layers of clothing and sank into my bones.
I sunk into a trance-like state, thinking about my favorite film noir movies. Double Indemnity with Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck was an outstanding flick. Many people nowadays might vaguely remember Stanwyck from the television series, The Big Valley. And she once starred in an Elvis movie, Roustabout. But she was at her best as the femme fatale, duping MacMurray. The Killers with Burt Lancaster was good. Next to Bogie, he was one of my favorite actors. Right now I was a little like Ralph Meeker in Kiss Me Deadly, stranded on a country road. Only I wasn’t driving, or picking up a woman who’d escaped from a psych ward. I was so zoned out that I didn’t at first notice the rumble. Then I stopped as the sickening, distinctive sound of a diesel engine edged into my muddled state.
I whirled around. Headlights dotted the darkness, their halo growing ever brighter. I hop-trotted to the ditch, sunk down and pressed myself into the dirt with my head down. A moment later a truck flew by. I had no idea if it was Jack and Marv. Once the engine noise faded in the distance, I heaved myself out of the ditch and hobbled on.
I didn’t see the truck again. Or any other cars. I wished for my running shoes. A long while later I saw the few lights of Deer Trail and the Phillips 66 sign. I couldn’t stop shivering as I left the dirt road and staggered onto 7th Avenue. A few minutes later I limped into the Phillips convenience store.
Ben’s head bobbed up, back down, then quickly back up at me.
“You all right, man?” he asked.
I nodded. “You still have hot dogs?”
“Sure.” He hesitated, then gestured at the machine. “Help yourself.”
I shambled over and reached for a hot dog, then saw the dirt all over my hands. I gazed back at Ben. “Bathroom?”
He pointed toward the hallway. That’s right, I thought to myself. I’d forgotten I’d passed by the bathroom earlier.
I went in, bent over the sink and turned on the tap.
The hot water stung my hands. I made fists and then opened them, stretching my fingers under the water. Eventually my hands thawed out. I stared into the mirror. I had a cut on my forehead, grime all over my face, and a bruise under my left eye. No wonder Ben reacted as he did when I walked in.
I splashed water over my face and scrubbed the filth off with a paper towel. Then I ran a hand over my head, patting down the stray hairs. Feeling slightly better, I hobbled back to the hot dog machine. I fixed one and wolfed it down, then ate another more slowly. Ben eyed me warily.
“I’ll pay for them,” I said through a mouthful.
“No problem,” he said, quickly turning back to the cash register.
I finished the second dog, grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator, and picked up a bag of Doritos.
“Ace bandages?” I asked. I was so tired, I couldn’t even form complete sentences.
“Over there.”
I found the bandages and limped to the counter.
“How much?” I asked, pulling out my wallet. Thank goodness I hadn’t lost it along with my phone.
Ben rang up my purchase and I paid.
I opened the Coke and slugged down half of it, then put the cap back on the bottle. “Is there a motel in town?” There was no way I was going to deal with the 4-Runner right now. I wanted a shower, ice for my ankle, and a bed. If the 4-Runner was stolen during the night, so be it. I’d deal with it in the morning.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “Go south on Cedar to 4th Street. It’s halfway down the block.” He bagged the chips and bandages.
“Thanks.”
I threw the soda in with the other stuff, took the bag off the counter and headed out the door. In the reflection from the window, I could see Ben shaking his head. I was too exhausted to care what he thought.
I was grateful that 4th Avenue was only a short walk away. As Ben said, the Sunnyside Inn was midway down the block and I easily spotted the glowing ‘Vacancy’ sign when I reached 4th Street. A wave of relief washed over me. It would’ve been just my luck that they didn’t have any rooms available, but somehow, I doubted that the Sunnyside was full very often. My ankle burned as I staggered into the tiny motel lobby. An older man with a shock of gray hair sticking out from under a baseball cap sat at a chair behind a short counter.
“Can I help you?” he asked, standing up. His nametag read, ‘Chuck’.
“I need a room for the night,” I said.
“You bet.” He pulled a card from a box of files and slid it across the counter. He eyed my bruised face and hands. “You get in a fight or something?”
I shook my head. “I ran out of gas down the highway.”
He squinted at me.
I tucked the bag in my coat pocket and filled out my name and address on the card, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. Then I pulled out my wallet. “I fell a couple of times as I walked into town,” I said as I handed him my credit card.
He ran the card, got a key from a bunch of rings hanging on the wall behind him, and handed both to me. “You’re in number eight. Down the hall and at the end.”
“Thanks.” I turned to go, then stopped. “Is there a machine with ice?”
“Yeah, it’s in the hallway near your room. You’ll pass by it.”
“Thanks,” I said again.
“You have a good night,” he smiled.
I waved and walked away. I stopped at the machine and loaded a bucket with ice and then let myself into room eight. It wasn’t the Ritz but I couldn’t care less. A double bed sat against one wall, with a nightstand on one side of it. A small wood desk and chair were tucked in the corner. At the end of the bed, on the opposite wall, an old TV sat on a rickety stand.
I shut and locked the door, and slid the chain into place. Then I leaned back, worn out. After a moment, I pushed myself into the room. I plopped on the bed and ate the chips. A phone and an old alarm clock sat on the nightstand. I picked up the phone but couldn’t get a dial tone. Just as well. It would cost me a fortune to make a call from the motel phone.
I kicked off my wingtips. They had so much dust on them, they looked tan instead of black. I trudged in the bathroom, stripped, and took a long hot shower. Then I filled the tub and soaked for a while, keeping my ankle elevated. The pain in my shoulders and legs eased a bit. The water turned lukewarm so I got out and toweled off.
I started shivering again as I cleaned up my pants in the sink, washing as much of the grime off of them as I could. My ankle hurt so I hopped on one foot back into the room, dragged the desk chair close to a heater in the corner, and laid the pants on the seat of the chair. I hoped they would be dry enough to wear in the morning. I draped my shirt over the back of the chair and sat on the bed. I piled the extra pillows at the end of the bed and rested my ankle on them. I wrapped ice in a hand towel and laid it on my ankle. I winced as I laid down. I pulled the comforter over my upper body and eventually I warmed up.
I stared up at the ceiling, lamenting my predicament. How did I go from taking pictures of these Bozos to being stranded out in the middle of nowhere?
I took a sip of soda and stared at the bottle. I managed a wry smile. Bogie would’ve had booze. A beer sounded great right now, but Coke would have to suffice. No way was I going out to find a liquor store or a bar.
I must have dozed off because I suddenly jerked awake. The light was still on. I took the towel off my foot, wrapped the ankle in the bandage to keep the swelling down, and crawled under the covers. I set the alarm for seven, turned off the light, and in moments I was asleep.
****
My eyes suddenly opened. Darkness surrounded me. I glanced over at the clock: 3:45. I yawned and rolled on my side, still half asleep. Then I heard it.
A faint muffled sound at the door. The knob rattled slightly.
I was wide awake now. I slid down to the end of the bed and stared at the door. A slit of light penetrated through the crack under the door. Then a shadow momentarily blocked the light.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my nerves tingling. Someone was trying to break in. Jack and his buddy Marv, I was sure.
I quietly stood up and winced with the pain in my ankle. It felt a bit better but it still ached. I limped to the tiny closet by the bathroom and picked up a wooden clothes hanger, which was a really pathetic weapon, but all I could find. Then I stood next to the door and waited.
The knob rattled again. I raised the hanger above my head, ready to strike.
“What are you doing?” a low voice hissed.
I jumped and nearly fell over. The voice seemed to have scared whoever was on the other side of the door too, because I heard whispered swearing.
“We gotta get this guy before he turns us in.” I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like Marv’s voice.
“Are you crazy? What if someone sees you?”
The second voice seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. The voices faded away.
I leaned against the wall, my blood pressure ringing loud in my ears. I waited, muscles tensed. I glanced down but didn’t see any shadows in the light under the door. Finally, after I was sure the men were gone, I double-checked the lock and chain on the door and crawled back into bed. I set the hanger on the floor next to me. Sleep wouldn’t come so I used the last of the ice in the bucket on my ankle. I stared into the darkness, anxiously wondering if or when Jack and Marv to return.
These guys were, apparently, desperate to stop me. It seemed like overkill for dognappers, unless they were stealing lots of dogs. When money is at stake, who knows what people will do.
I wondered how they’d found me. I thought back to the truck that had passed by me as I walked back into Deer Trail. Maybe they’d seen me come into the motel. More questions than answers.
I hoped they wouldn’t do anything to Aesop. The Johnsons must be worried sick. And Gail had to be wondering why I hadn’t called her. I’d be back in Denver soon enough, and I’d get in touch with her. And then I’d figure out where Jack and Marv lived. And then what?
Just before dawn I dozed off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The blaring alarm jolted me awake. I sat up and my sore muscles screamed. I checked my ankle. The swelling was down but it was still tender.
I limped into the bathroom and examined my face in the mirror. The bruise under my left eye had turned a deep bluish-black and the scrape on my forehead looked as if a cat had scratched me. I took a long hot shower, ran my hands through my hair to comb it, and then plodded back in the bedroom. My pants were dry but I found more rips in them than I’d noticed the night before. My shirt was winkled but clean. I got dressed, wiped the dust off my shoes and put them on. My left foot fit tightly in the shoe. I grabbed my coat and lumbered down the hall, across the lobby and into a small restaurant.
This must’ve been the place to be in Deer Trail on a Saturday morning. The only table available was a two-seater in the corner by a window, and every eye in the place stared at me as I hobbled over to it. I eased into the wooden chair and a middle-aged woman in a yellow dress strolled up to the table.
“Hon, you look like you could use coffee,” she said, holding up a cup and half-full coffee pot.
“That sounds great.” I leaned back and stretched. Joints popped loudly.
“Here’s a menu,” she said, taking a laminated sheet from under her arm and handing it to me. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”
“Thanks.” I took the menu and perused it. I hadn’t eaten a meal since lunch yesterday, so I decided on the Rancher’s Plate: eggs, steak, hash browns, toast and fruit.
“Tough night?”
I looked up. Two men in jeans, plaid shirts and baseball caps were gazing curiously at me.
“Yeah,” I said. I sipped my coffee.
“What’s the other guy look like?” said the one closest to me as he scratched his blond beard.
I sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“What the short version?” the other one asked. He was a hefty guy with a huge nose and dark eyes, and he wasn’t what I wanted to look at this early in the morning.
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