by Sandy Night
Before Colt could make it out the front door, another one flew in, smacking him on the forehead. It bounced and came at him again. He swatted at it and backhanded the bug’s hard shell, sending it in the direction he had just come from. Uh oh, that wasn’t good. He leaped through the opened doorway.
KABOM!
The concussion from the explosion catapulted him off the porch.
Chapter 26
The earth shook beneath Alaska’s feet. She rocked from the blast. Terror squeezed her heart. Whirling around, she released Whip’s arm. A billow of smoke covered half the house.
Debris rained. She ducked.
Wood hit the ground, clacking. She screamed, “Colt, Colt!”
“We need ambulances!” Frank yelled at two squad cars that had pulled into the yard, their blue lights spinning.
“Where’s Colt?” she hollered.
“There’s injuries! We need ambulances!” Frank spun back around and sprinted toward the house. “He got blown out, I saw him,” he shouted.
“Got blown out?” Alaska followed, but after a few long strides, she tripped on something and fell.
Pushing herself up, her bare foot slid across a body. “Oh no, Colt!” She quickly turned and flung shingles aside. Blue lights crossed Esther’s distorted face. Alaska shrieked and jumped up.
The smoke lifted and spread, revealing part of the house was missing. The porch lights flickered. Colt’s dad stood on the steps, twirling around, calling out for his son. Jack and Whip were blubbering words of astonishment, voices crackled from the squad cars radios, and one of the lawmen was yelling to get away from the house.
Alaska ran. When she passed the bed of Frank’s truck, something sharp, like a nail, pierced her foot beneath the second toe, sending enough pain up her leg to make her collapse.
Crying, she began moving on her hands and knees. “Colt, Oh my God, Colt, where are you?”
“Here.”
Stopping, she swore she heard his voice, low but audible amid all the frantic voices around her. Swishing her head around, she stood but dropped back to the ground when she spotted him inching out from beneath the front end of the truck. Heaving with sobs, she reached out for him.
He didn’t get up. Instead he rolled over onto his back, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms snugly around her.
Her cheek wet from tears, pressed against his warm bristled one. “I’m so sorry I got you into this mess.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be all right. I love you Alaska. I love you.” His voice sounding in her ear was like a favor from heaven. Then his arms fell back as if he intended to get up.
“I love you too.” She raised herself off him. But he didn’t move.
Kneeling, she yelled, “Frank, Frank, over here!”
He rounded the truck and dropped to his knees. “Is he conscious?”
“Yeah, I am, need some help getting up here, had the wind knocked out of me.”
“Bet you did son.” Frank helped him to a sitting position then hooked his arms and brought him to his feet.
Alaska stood, favoring her bare foot. All the house lights had gone off, and bright orange flames shot off the roof. The smoke had thickened, amplifying the stench of the explosion and burning house.
*****
The pressure from the exploding molecules had not only picked Colt up off his feet, tossing him in the air as if he was an action figure toy, but the blow against his backside also knocked every ounce of air out of his lungs. He impacted the ground in a rolling position. A moment of blackness and stars overwhelmed him and when he came to, he lay twisted under the truck, pressed up against the inside of a tire. He strained to breathe and all he could hear was a ringing noise inside his head, until Alaska’s sobbing and calling out his name broke through the barrier. When he budged he realized he was still gripping his dad’s revolver, he stuck it in the back of his jeans and slithered out from beneath the truck.
He liked to double over when his dad propped him up, the soreness he had had in his side was now a throbbing pain and a heavy discomfort saturated his chest. He gulped smoke laden air, it burned and he coughed. Then he straightened and put his arm around Alaska’s shoulders. Her arm went around his waist.
Headlights lit up the yard from four patrol cars parked along the rim of the property. Running lights whirled, setting the dark trees in the surrounding woods awash in the blue strobe. Radios chattered. It was a scene Colt was most familiar with, but now he was on the flip side, the victim. He turned and peered at the flames licking the walls. Wood crackled. “Hurry, let’s get away from the house, there could be more dynamite in there.”
Taking short strides, he observed Esther Ketch sprawled among debris, ten yards beyond the truck, looking dead, but he wouldn’t bet on it. A uniformed patrolman kneeled by her. Further out off to the side, Jack and Whip lay flat on the ground being handcuffed. Probably Whip took off and Jack pursed, then they both got tackled by patrolmen. And fifteen yards ahead of them stood Sheriff Thornville, as still as a defunct robot with his arms crossed. It seemed as if he was doing nothing but watching them.
Colt tightened his embrace with Alaska, his arm cradling her neck. She responded by squeezing his midsection, and even though it jolted the pain in his side, he welcomed it.
He reached for his billfold, surprised it hadn’t been blown out of his pocket.
“Are you all right, son, gonna make it?” Frank asked behind him.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I think I’ll need a place to sit though.”
“You just hang on there, let me move my truck. Then I’ll get you the hell out of here.”
Colt felt Alaska’s gait going up and down. “You okay, are you injured?”
“I think I stepped on a nail.”
“I can carry you.”
“Ha, if you tried that, I’ll end up carrying you.”
The distinctive sound of his dad’s truck started. The officer kneeling by Esther jumped up and yelled, “Hey hold up there, don’t move your truck!” He quickly strode over toward the driver’s side. “There’s a woman on the ground directly behind you.”
Colt stopped and pivoted Alaska around to watch the patrolman and his dad.
“I know where she’s at,” Frank hollered back. “I’m not going to run over her.”
The distant siren of a fire truck came into earshot.
“Okay, but forward, move out that way around that vehicle.” He pointed at the black SUV parked near the corner of the house opposite from where the dynamite exploded, and stepped back.
“That was the plan,” Frank said. The steering creaked as he made a sharp turn.
Alaska was rubbernecking, watching Jack and Whip being placed in separate cages. Colt spun her around with him as he headed toward the side of the property his dad was moving the truck to.
“Wait, I have to go let them know they got Whip, he’s proof my brother is innocent,” she urged, pulling on his waist to go the other way. “And help Jack, he didn’t do nothing.”
“Yeah, okay,” Colt agreed. “I guess it would be a good idea to let them know they got themselves a walking dead man.”
They didn’t go ten feet before Sheriff Thornville stepped in front of them, making them stop in their tracks. “Alaska Roper,” he bellowed over the wail of the fire engine getting close, and all the other noise going on around them, the chatter on the radios, the crackling fire, and the patrolmen yelling at each other across the yard, “you lied to me. You had your brother the whole time, and in my book, that’s aiding and abetting. You harbored an escaped convict and I’m taking you in.” The big burly man reached for his handcuffs.
“Hold on there, Sheriff,” Colt matched his tone, “I’m a police officer.” He flipped open his billfold and stuck his badge in Thornville’s face. “I was with her when she picked him up, and she did nothing but help bring him in, with me. Didn’t you know that? You should.”
“Before that,” the sheriff shot back.
“I’m telling you, she h
as been with me.” Colt snapped his billfold closed and put it back in his pocket. “And from where I’m standing, you got bigger fish to fry than my fiancé. You have a deputy running around out there committing all kinds of crimes, including murder. Right now he’s looking for her, to kill her! He tried to kill me, and he thinks he did. And trust me; after I’m done giving my statements, you’re going to have your own ass to worry about.” Pausing to take a breath, Colt noticed his dad jogging their way.
“Sheriff Thornville,” Alaska blurted, and then pointed. “That is Whip Cunningham sitting in the back of that squad car. He is living proof that my brother is innocent.”
The sheriff angled his head. “Looks like Floyd to me,” he yelled over the sound of the fire truck barreling down the road leading to the house. “You’re dreaming missy, Whip’s dead and Blade killed him. And that’s that.”
Frank jogged up to them. “What’s going on?” Colt hardly heard his dad ask because of the fire truck reaching the property.
“No,” Alaska screamed. Then finally someone turned the siren off. But she continued screaming, “Floyd’s dead! I just watched a DVD of your crappy ass deputy shooting him square in the chest. Didn’t you know how psycho he was? How could you miss that?”
A patrolman rushed over. “What’s this about a DVD and Floyd being shot? That young man we have has an ID claiming him to be Floyd Cunningham.”
“That’s Whip Cunningham. He faked his own death sending my brother, Blade Roper, to prison for murder. He’s using his brother’s ID,” Alaska answered. “And you better not let him go because I need him to get my brother exonerated. You see Whip and Floyd look alike. I’ve known them since first grade. Now Jack, that’s your other prisoner, he’s my cook. I’m Alaska Roper, owner of the Cliff Café. Now he had in his hand the DVD of Floyd being killed in cold blood by this sheriff’s deputy, Doug Haggard. He might still have it.”
“No, we got it, found it in the grass.”
Colt pulled his billfold back out. “I’m Officer Mallett, LRPD. I made the distress call at this address and I have a lot to say incriminating that woman on the ground, Esther Ketch, she lives here, her son, Tom Ketch, who is not here, Whip Cunningham who faked his death, whom you have, not Floyd, and Deputy Haggard, who also is not here but is out looking for her to harm her. They are all suspects of fraud and attempted murder.” He handed the patrolman his badge. “And that fire was started by an old stick of dynamite Mrs. Ketch had on her person, there could be more in the house.”
“Then in that case we all better get back further.”
As they moved on, Colt added, “What I’d like to do, since we’re both injured, I just about got blown to bits, is go ahead and go to the hospital. And then we’ll go to the station to make our statements, if that’s okay.”
“I’ll be right back.” The officer headed toward the patrol cars with his badge.
“Go sit in the truck,” Frank suggested. “I’ll go see if these firemen have some drinking water they can spare. And I’ll also explain to them about the dynamite.”
Colt started for the truck and noticed the sheriff speaking to another one of his deputies who had come careening into the yard. As he brushed past them he overheard Thornville say, “Doug, it was Doug? Are you sure?” Then he took off to his patrol car in big hurry.
“What do you think that was all about?” Alaska asked.
“I haven’t a clue,” Colt answered.
He noticed the windshield on his dad’s truck had a smashed spot from a piece of falling debris. He slid into the driver’s side while Alaska limped around the front end to the passenger side. He kept his eyes peeled on her until she climbed in, then he locked the door as soon as she slammed it closed.
Leaning over, he took the revolver out from the back of his jeans. He turned on the cab light and gave the gun a quick check, making sure it wasn’t cocked. Then he put it back in his pants, and turned the light off. Sitting in the truck put him at ease. It was a safe place. He could finally relax.
“You lied.” Alaska said with an edge of calm sarcasm.
“Huh, what are you talking about?”
“Fiancé?”
“Oh that.” Colt chuckled. “I didn’t lie.” He leaned over the middle console. “I missed a word, future.” He grasped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. Her lips were soft and moist, like morning dew on a new leaf. He slipped her his tongue.
A knock sounded on the door. He backed off the gorgeous wild woman from the Cliff Café, and took hold of two bottles of water sticking through the window.
As he drank, he noticed the patrolman who took his billfold strolling over to the truck.
“Here’s your badge back.” He handed it to Colt. “You’re good to go, see you at the station.” The patrolman pivoted.
“Thanks Officer,” Colt called out after him. Then he opened the door. “Dad, climb in the back, I’ll drive.”
“The hell I’ll climb in the back. I’m staying. I’ve got to help my buddy, Jack. They haven’t let him loose yet and they already hauled Whip away. I’ll get a ride back to the cabins. You two go on.”
Heading out, Colt stopped and asked directions on how best to get to the highway. Simple enough, two right hand turns and a left, about seven miles miles. He drove the pitch dark road in no big hurry, reveling in the comfort of sitting behind a humming engine and headlights.
For a ways, Alaska seemed to have settled back, but then she perked up. “How long do you think it’ll take Blade to be exonerated?”
“No idea, don’t forget, he’ll have that escape charge against him.”
“But he turned himself in, won’t that count?”
“It definitely helps. But it’ll all be up to a judge.”
“Oh no, what if they haven’t taken Blade back to prison yet and they’re taking Whip to the same place he’s at? And they put him in the same cell? Oh my God, Blade could really kill him.”
Colt chuckled. “I don’t think that will happen. At least it shouldn’t. Your brother seems like a bright guy. I’m sure he’d bring it to their attention that Whip was his evidence that he was innocent, instead of hurting him.”
Spotting stationary blue patrol lights up ahead, Colt slowed. “Something’s going on up there.”
“I wonder if it has something to do with Tom or Haggard.”
“Could be.”
It was at the second turn, a silver vehicle rollover off the side of the road. Sheriff Thornville was there. Colt didn’t stop. “I bet that’s Haggard.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, that’s probably what the other deputy meant when he said it was Doug. We’ll find out when we get to the station, and exactly where your brother is. But first we’ll go to the cabins, clean up and get something to eat. Then the hospital.”
Alaska sounded a slight gasp. “Maybe we’ll run into Dougy boy in the emergency room,” she said excitedly as if she was talking about a friend. “If he’s not walking around, we could peek into all those little cubicles. I’ll find him. Maybe I can torture him some when the nurses aren’t looking, you think?”
“Uh…I’ll ask first, see if he’s there. They’ll tell me, I’ll show them my badge. Then we won’t have to waste our time looking for him.” Or, Colt thought, call the station and find out exactly where they took Deputy Doug Haggard. And if he happens to be where they’re going, request assistance to not only protect feral woman from Haggard but also from herself.
Chapter 27
Alaska’s muscles feigned complete exhaustion, the upper part of her bare foot throbbed like a toothache, her knee screamed murder every time she moved it, and her skin crawled as though she had taken a smoke bath and used a dirt scrub. Despite all that and a bug moving around in her pants, she basked in the glory of capturing Whip, and the heart of a damn good looking muscle man, even though he was a cop. That was okay. Future fiancé? Holy shit, she could be sitting next to her soon-to-be husband. And he was seriously hot. Happiness flooded her mi
nd like an orgasm.
Leaning back against the headrest, she lowered her eyelids, shutting out the headlights beaming on the passing road. Her body swayed whenever the truck rounded a curve. Drifting into the outskirts of la-la-land, she imagined Blade at the café after his release, all their friends were there celebrating. A party! Yes, she would throw Blade a party, after hours of course. And she would make him the biggest cake ever– his favorite, chocolate on chocolate with raspberry sauce. And there would be banners, banjos, and booze, for designated drinkers of course. Maybe she’ll surprise him and–
“We’re here.”
Colts voice jarred her back to the darkened interior of his dad’s truck. She sat up, blinking her eyes open.
He cut the engine.
She peered through the windshield at a fairly large, rustic log cabin. Lights lit up the front and a woman sat in an outdoor rocker, but then she stood up.
“Is this your cabin?”
“No, my parents. That’s my mom.” Colt opened the driver’s door. “We can’t go to mine. A tree’s blocking the road.” He slid out of the truck in slow motion with one hand holding his side.
Oh, no, Mom—like in possible soon-to-be mother-in-law?
“C’mon,” he said, before slamming the truck’s door closed.
Oh shit. Running into his dad was one thing, but she couldn’t meet his mother. Not now. Not like this. Not after the mess she and her convict brother got him into.
Look at him, he could hardly walk, and he almost got killed. And then he almost got blown up.
This was not good. His mother was not going to like her at all.
Alaska slunk down in her seat. Terror streaked across her soul. She sucked in a deep breath, warding off curt flashbacks of her own drug induced mother, and her stick wielding grandmother.