“Did Simon really have to take ’er out to the dump and shoot ’er?”
“Said she was losin’ her bodily functions.”
“She just didn’t wanna fuck no more. Simon won’t feed a chick that won’t fuck, says it ain’t practical. Says everything’s gotta have a purpose.”
“We got to go back. Simon might decide to let us have a crack at this new one.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Cal.”
“Dude, Cal bullshits a lot. Simon didn’t even wanna bring ’im with us when he was done stealin’ food and meds at the Juvie Center. Cal gave ’im all sorts of shit. Simon was in a hurry, didn’t wanna listen to his shit. So be brought ’im out here with the rest of us.”
“So what?” A giggle. “What if Cal’s right this time? I’m in!”
“Me, too. I mean, wow, man ...”
“Don’t get your hopes up. Simon’s been pissed all fuckin’ day about Doc and James.”
“Doc was one weird asshole, collectin’ those damn scalps. Fuckin’ things smell bad.”
“Fucker sure knew how to find drugs out here. Know how Simon gets when he can’t get buzzed.”
“C’mon, dudes. Gettin’ chilly out here. Don’t see nobody. We can start lookin’ for that psycho again in the mornin’.”
The flashlight clicked off and the comforting darkness returned. The rustling resumed and rapidly grew fainter.
I crawled out of my hiding space. Using the stump of the tree for cover, I peered around it and watched the four black figures disappearing into the darkness of the woods.
I waited about two minutes. Then, keeping low and still gripping the Ruger, I stayed behind the cover of the trees lining the path while following them into the awaiting fortress.
***
Once I’d reached the woods, I increased my pace. Then, using the trees and thick brush for cover, I stayed as close as possible to the foursome. Using my penlight was out of the question, so I had to be extra careful to watch my footing. I couldn’t lose sight of them, and I couldn’t risk injuring myself.
It took us about twenty minutes to reach the other end of the woods. Beyond it, a beat-up four-door pickup sat in the middle of the road, facing the top of the hill. The bed was stacked high with furniture and rolls of fencing, partially covered with sections of torn tarp hanging down and fastened to the side of the truck with bungee cords. The lights were off, but the engine was running, and I could see a shadow sitting behind the wheel.
I crawled out amongst the bushes and lay on the cold ground beside a thick, segmented deadfall, about forty yards down from the truck. Two of the boys were walking around the vehicle, their flashlight beams jumping around wildly. The other two stood about ten feet down from the open tailgate, their backs to the road as they urinated into the ditch. If they hadn’t been standing there, I could have snuck over, climbed the bed and hid beneath the tarp.
One of the other two boys stepped onto the shoulder, turned his back and set about doing what the other two were doing. The fourth boy remained in the middle of the road, scanning the area with his flashlight beam. It swept over in my direction, stopping about ten feet short of my position. I flattened myself to the ground and buried my face in my arms. The bright silver halo stayed focused on the woods for about twenty seconds before shifting and moving in the opposite direction.
“Hurry up!” The driver stuck his head out the window and gestured. “Don’t like it out here!”
“Hold your wad,” one of them said. “We’re tendin’ to business!”
“Can’t ... fool me,” the driver said. “You’re ... takin’ a leak!”
“And you thought he was stupid,” one of them said, chuckling.
“Silly me,” his partner replied. “Mush Mouth’s a private dick.”
“You’re half right.”
The boy in front of the truck zipped up and rejoined his partner. Their flashlight beams lit up the woods about a hundred feet to my left. They were talking too softly for me to hear what they were saying.
I hadn’t a prayer of following them on foot. Once they got in the truck, they’d be gone in thirty seconds and I’d have to guess where they went. It would take me close to half an hour, perhaps an hour, to get back to the farm, dig up the keys, unlock the garage door, get in the truck, drive back here and start looking again. In that time, they’d be able to cover at least twenty miles. Judging by what I’d heard earlier, they didn’t live far, but that didn’t make this any easier. There were dirt roads, turnoffs and isolated houses everywhere in this area. It would take me several days and nights to check out every road and structure within a five- or ten-mile radius. I couldn’t risk Fields being held captive by this dangerous brood for that long. I had to think of something fast.
My only chance was to somehow delay them from driving away and divert their attention. I had to find some way to sneak over to the truck, jump onto the bed and hitch a ride to their hideout. This meant sabotaging the truck, but only temporarily. My option in this case was to shoot out their front tire once they started moving. Like all guns, the Ruger was loud enough to be heard at quite a distance. The loud engine noise of the truck would absorb some of the explosion, but not as much as I’d need. The opened windows wouldn’t help me at all. My only hope was that they’d think the blast was actually a blowout.
As they set about changing the tire, I could circle around, sneak up to the truck, climb in back and hide amongst the clutter during their drive back to their place. While they pulled off the main road, I could roll out of the bed and hide in the grass or bushes. Later on, when I was sure everyone was asleep, I could set about looking for Fields. As long as this crew didn’t keep dogs, I’d be reasonably safe.
I didn’t have much time. I had to ditch the backpack. It was bulky, and would slow me down. I still had the Ruger, the .38, the .22, and a sharp hunting knife. With the speed loaders and forty loose rounds of .22 mini mags in my ammo belt, I was carrying more than seventy rounds. I’d feel much better with extra mags in my pockets, but there wasn’t time to rummage through the backpack. I had to work with what I had.
On the off-chance that I’d be able to return, I decided to hide the backpack so I could retrieve it later on. I squirmed out of it, placed it on the ground beside me and pushed large sections of broken bark on top of it. I gathered up some dead leaves and dropped them on it as well. I found a fairly straight stick and jammed it into the ground vertically beside the deadfall. This done, I lay down in the ditch, rested the barrel of the Ruger on my left forearm, and waited.
“C’mon, dammit!” the driver yelled. “You guys ... ain’t ya done yet?”
“Naw, we like standin’ out here with our schlongs hangin’ out! The cool night air’s givin’ me a hard-on!”
“Shut your pie-hole, you dumb shit!”
“Get in the fuckin’ truck, all of ya!”
The boys zipped up, approached the truck, opened the back doors and got in. The other two killed their flashlights and went back to the cab.
Moments later, the high-pitched grinding of gears signaled the departure of the truck. It eased forward. Seconds later, its headlights lit up the hill straight ahead.
Using my off-center vision to gauge my target, I inched the barrel of the Ruger toward my left. I knew I had I had only a few seconds to shoot before the truck gained speed. To make the situation worse, the truck had no sidelights, and the darkness made it nearly impossible to actually see my target. As I’d done many times while patrolling the Border, I was going to have to guess where the target actually was. The rifle round had a range of about a mile, but its rainbow pattern left too much to chance. There could be a discrepancy of six or eight inches between where I’d aimed and where the bullet landed. All hell would break loose if I hit the body of the truck above the tire. But I couldn’t wait. I was going to have to risk the shot.
The truck began gaining speed as it lumbered up the hill.
Just as I was about to pull the
trigger, a loud crack! reverberated in the area, and the truck jerked to a screeching stop.
TEN
I lay in the dirt, struggling to determine what I’d just heard. Was it a gunshot? Or had one of the tires blown out at that precise moment?
Things like that just didn’t happen—not when or how you wanted them to, anyway. It was way too convenient. Too easy.
To make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, I sniffed the barrel of the Ruger. It hadn’t been fired. Of course it hadn’t. I certainly would have noticed firing it, wouldn’t I?
Maybe, maybe not. The Ruger didn’t have a hair trigger, but was certainly easy enough to fire without applying excessive pressure. Any sort of cough or twinge would have been more than enough to cause me to squeeze off a round.
But since I hadn’t coughed or even tensed up during that moment, this wasn’t the issue. My nerves were on edge and my head had been teetering on thought overload for the last hour and a half. I was concentrating on the shot, the trajectory of the bullet, the distance, the darkness. I was worried about missing the tire and hitting the truck. I was wondering how I could sneak over to the truck after I’d flattened the tire ... and how I could climb in back, undetected ... and what I’d do once the truck started moving again ... and when we’d arrived at our destination ... and looking for Fields ... and finding her, bringing her back without getting us killed.
Too many things were rushing through my mind. I could have easily pressed the trigger without even noticing.
I had to stop trying to figure out what I did or didn’t do and face what happened. Something that sounded very much like a gunshot had come from somewhere very close, and I was the one with the loaded gun in my hand when it happened. However, the barrel didn’t reek of cordite, suggesting that I hadn’t fired the weapon.
So ... what did happen?
And why had the truck stopped so suddenly?
In the midst of my confusion, the truck doors flew open and the five males jumped out, all chattering away hysterically as they flicked on their flashlights. The darkness exploded with harsh beams of white light leaping and jerking in every direction. Three of them crossed the road, moving carefully toward me. I heard the clicking of automatics.
Instinct told me to get up, dash back into the woods and hide. But I couldn’t move. The odds were stacked against me. Although the boys were nearly a hundred yards from me, they’d see me in their flashlight beams as soon as I got up from the ground. There were three of them, they were armed, and the brilliant globes of white light coming toward me would immediately disorient me. As they drew closer, my only option was to close my eyes, guess their position, and empty the magazine.
Logically, I couldn’t do that. Dead, they couldn’t lead me to Fields, and once Simon found out five of his men hadn’t returned, he’d send out more of his gang to investigate. The area would be swarming with armed psychos in no time. I’d be forced to go into hiding, perhaps for days.
I had no idea how many of these young killers I could be facing. Simon had apparently raided a Juvenile Center for drugs and food and then decided to bring a batch of kids back with him to do his errands. For all I knew, he might have a platoon living with him. If so, he could send out truckloads all day long. It wouldn’t be long before they found me and killed me. Even if I was able to avoid them, it would seriously delay my hunt for Fields.
The threesome kept on coming. I closed my eyes, lowered my face to the cold dirt and braced the barrel of the Ruger on my forearm. Once I’d emptied the mag and dropped these three, I could use the .38 on the other two.
Just as I slid my index finger into the firing position, someone near the truck yelled, “Where the hell you dumbasses goin’? That shit happened on the driver’s side!”
Silence. They all stopped.
One of them said, “Sure sounded like it came from over here!”
“Idiot. Don’tcha know sound echoes? It bounces all over the fuckin’ place in these hills!”
“But...”
“Wanna see the fuckin’ tire? It’s on the passenger’s side! That oughta be your first clue!”
“Sure sounded like a gunshot ...”
“Like I said, wanna see the tire?”
“Just sayin’...”
“Ya never heard a fuckin’ tire blow out before?”
“Still, it sounded like a gunshot ...”
“That’s why we’re gonna go check to make sure, Einstein.”
Several agonizing moments passed, and the blinding lights dimmed as the boys turned around and trotted back to the truck.
I sighed in relief. The woods on the other side of the road quickly exploded with bright silver lights dancing and jumping all over the trees and the steep hill running beyond it. As the boys disappeared in the brush, I crawled across the rough surface of the cool macadam and searched for a place to hide.
***
For the next twenty minutes, I lay in the ditch amongst high weeds just a few feet off the road, about forty feet from the open tailgate of the truck, wondering if I should climb into the loaded bed. All five young men were in the woods on the other side of the highway, trudging through the thick brush, looking for signs of anyone who might have shot out their front tire. They were making too much noise and would not be able to hear anything I did.
Even so, instinct told me to wait. I’d have a better chance of hitching a ride undetected once they’d changed the tire, got back inside the truck and started up the vehicle. I’d only have twenty seconds or so to make my move, but this would probably be my best opportunity. Otherwise, I ran the risk of someone getting too close to the truck bed when they came back. I had no idea where they kept their equipment. They might have it stowed away somewhere in the bed, amongst the trash. I knew better than take such a risk.
When they finally returned from the woods, one of them opened the metal toolbox directly behind the cab and removed an X-wrench, a jack, and a small toolbox, while another boy crawled underneath the truck to unscrew the spare tire from its housing unit. The driver got back in behind the wheel and flicked the headlights on. The fourth boy knelt in front of the flat while the fifth walked around in front of the truck, his flashlight scanning the hill as well as the woods on both sides of the road.
“Was too a fuckin’ gunshot,” said the boy carrying the tools to the front of the truck.
“Was not.” The other boy snatched the X-wrench from him and immediately applied it to the flat.
“Was too.”
“Not.”
“What else could it have been?”
“Fuckin’ blowout—what else?” said the boy standing in front of the truck.
“Too fuckin’ loud for a blowout.”
“Did we see anybody out there? Any sign of anyone?”
“That don’t mean...”
“Did we?”
“Thought I did, farther on up that rise...”
“That was a fuckin’ dog. Ever see a fuckin’ dog shoot out a tire?”
“Coulda swore I saw somethin’ else...”
“I didn’t.”
“Me either.”
”It was a fuckin’ blowout, moron. Suck it up.”
“Slick, here, just wants to shoot somebody.”
“Dude, these tires ain’t that old. Simon took ‘em from that garage in Tarentum when he found this truck. Took ’em right off the rack. Rack was marked new. Know what new means?”
“New,” Mush Mouth said from the cab. “Means ain’t old. Not used.”
“Mush Mouth the fuckin’ professor.”
“Just ’cause a tire’s new don’t mean it ain’t gonna have a blowout. Any dumbass could figure that one out.”
“Sure am glad a dumbass like you pointed it out for me.”
“Quit bein’ a dick.”
The boy beneath the truck had unscrewed the spare and let it drop. He crawled out, dragged out the spare, straightened and rolled it around to the front of the truck. The other boy had unscrewed the bolts on the flat
and jacked up the truck a few inches. As soon as his friend brought over the spare, the first boy pulled off the flat and pushed it over to his friend. “Dump it.”
“Where?”
“Over there in the bushes—where else?”
“In the bushes?”
“Afraid some cop’s gonna see us and haul our asses in? Dump the fuckin’ tire and quit bein’ a shithead!”
“Whaddya want me to do first?”
“Idiot.”
“Ain’t no cops no more,” muttered Mush Mouth.
“There are still cops, moron. They’re just either dead or doped. If they’re doped, they don’t even know they’re cops.”
“I just thought we oughta bring it back, patch it up.”
“What the hell for? Simon’s got a stack sittin’ outside the garage. Don’tcha remember? We picked ’em up coupla weeks ago.”
“Guess I forgot.” The boy rolled the flat into the ditch and let it fall in the bushes. Behind him, his friend used the jack to lower the truck, then tightened the nuts on the spare.
About a minute later, the boy circled the truck and dropped the jack and wrenches back into the toolbox. He opened the rear door behind the driver and climbed in. As soon as the others opened their doors and climbed in, I snuck up to the back of the truck and knelt beneath the lowered tailgate. Mush Mouth revved the ignition and slammed the truck into gear.
I rolled onto the tailgate. The truck began to move. I crawled into the bed and ducked beneath the loose flap of the tarp.
***
As the truck gained speed, I crawled beneath an old wooden table and a large rolled-up rug reeking of cigarettes, booze, and vomit. There was also a box filled with pots and pans shoved near the front, against the toolbox. A stack of old magazines two feet thick, bound with heavy twine, sat next to the wheel well on the driver’s side. I dragged it closer and gently tipped it over. When it was where I wanted it, I sat directly behind it, facing the tailgate. If I was caught in heavy fire, the sturdy bundle would provide me with protection. Other than heavy armor-piercing stuff, I couldn’t think of any round capable of penetrating a solid mass of paper twenty-four inches thick.
After Darkness Fell Page 10