by Ann Self
“Sounds good to me.”
Jane grabbed her own jacket and a spare ball cap and followed them outside to her car. The Buick was stuffed to the gills with her belongings, Teddy bear faces were mashed against the windows staring pitifully. The wind had escalated astonishingly in the past two hours—a little faster that what was predicted. Jane’s hair snapped around her face and cap as she got into the car and rolled down the window to say good-bye. She turned the key as they watched, but the starter made a tinny nee-nee-nee sound without turning over.
Sam leaned on her door to look in. “You have to be kidding!”
“Now the thing stops working?” Reggie cried.
Nee-nee-nee-nee, the car answered in response to more cranking.
“Stop—stop...you’ll wear down the battery. Pop the hood, I’ll take a look.”
“How about I take you home in my truck?” Reggie asked, as Sam rummaged under the hood.
Jane sighed, “Thanks Reggie. I guess if Sam can’t get it started. But all my clothes and most everything I own in the world are packed in here. Madeline has a two-car garage that I can park it in—I don’t want to see my unmentionables hanging in the trees.”
“Let’s not worry about underwear in the trees,” Reggie yelled into the wind and needle rain, “let’s just get you safely to Madeline’s. Come on, grab the stuff you need the most...”
Jane scooped up two boxes, some suitcases and two of her favorite bears, stuffing everything in the back of Reggie’s double cab and climbing in herself. Sam slammed the hood of her car, wiping his hands on his jeans. Reggie got in his truck and tried to start it as Sam stood along side, but it wouldn’t turn over either. The three of them just stared at each other as Sam stood out in the pelting rain and wind, holding on to his hat.
“This is not good,” he yelled to the truck’s occupants.
“Not good at all,” Reggie yelled back. Want to make a small bet that your truck won’t start?”
“Not really...” Sam unlocked his truck and jumped in. The engine would not start, and made the same feeble sound. He sprang out and popped the hood to take a quick scan of the engine. Then he unclipped his cellphone, tossed it on the dash, threw his hat in and grabbed a large piece of cardboard from under his seat, placing it on the ground so he could get under the truck. After a minute he struggled out and got up to look under the hood again.
“Damn!” he muttered, as he unwound electrical tape from a severed wire. He checked under the hood of Jane’s car and then Reggie’s truck.
“What is it?” Reggie asked, following him around. Jane hopped out of Reggie’s truck to see what was wrong.
“Wires to the ignition coils have all been cut,” he answered, swatting dirt and mud off his Levis. “Let’s go back to the barn and see what I got in my tool chest. I might be able to repair my truck. Then you can drive Jane home in it.”
“Better be quick,” Reggie said, looking up at the trees. The wind had turned up another notch, and gigantic trees around the barn were starting to sway and twist as if dancing to a Chubby Checker song—the wood making strange popping and creaking sounds. A jagged bolt of lightning danced on the horizon, followed by a crack of bone-jangling thunder.
“Yeah, we better be quick all right, for more reasons than one,” Sam agreed.
“So...someone deliberately sabotaged those vehicles?” Jane asked, pulling damp twisted strands of hair from her face.
“Yep.”
She felt terror slither up her spine her again. “Then someone’s still after me,” she said quietly as they hurried back to the barn.
“They still got to go through us,” Reggie huffed and puffed. “Besides, Sam’ll get his truck working, he knows trucks inside out.”
“I hope you’ll be okay out there,” Jane said to Sam, as they raced into the barn and shut the door against the wind. She removed her cap and shook it off as they walked into the office, then shrugged out of her soaked jacket and draped it on the back of the rocking chair.
“Good thing he’s put on a few pounds, this is no weather for jockeys,” Reggie tried to be light-hearted.
“Oh, ha ha Reggie. You won’t blow away either.” Sam reached into the cabinet under the coffee pot and pulled out a red toolbox. “Soon as I repair my truck, you better drive Jane home quickly, if you get my drift.”
“I get it,” Reggie answered, sitting back in the wooden captain’s chair next to Sam’s desk, blotting water from his face with a hanky. The sky darkened and the wind cranked itself up again, yowling around the barn and driving the rain in horizontal sheets at the office windows behind him. A sharp crackle of electricity suddenly ionized the atmosphere and fizzled through all the dark fluorescent tubes overhead, lighting them up as if by a spectral hand. A split second later there was an explosion of lightning so loud they all nearly dove for the floor. Reggie jumped out of his chair to stare at the windows behind him, and Jane and Sam backed against the inner wall in shock. They heard a wrenching squeal and a crack like a cannon shot, making Jane shriek.
“Oh my Lord!” Reggie yelled, backing away from the windows. A cascade of snapping wood rumbled through the atmosphere. “Oh...God...run!” he yelled again. They raced out the door as they felt a compressing WHOOSH of displaced air that stood their hair on end. A thundering crash shook the barn as the huge trunk of a giant oak hit the ground. The office darkened significantly when a canopy of sodden leaves and branches slid down the outside wall and covered the windows. One window pane exploded and sprayed Sam’s chair with glass, and wind blasted papers off his desk and rolled the map sideways. Mares screamed in panic from the south wing.
“What in hell!” Sam yelled as they huddled just outside the office doorway. Jane clasped both hands over her mouth. All they could see in the windows behind Sam’s desk was the crown of one of the largest oaks on the property. The monster tree had fallen the whole length of the south wing—with the upper-most leaves now thrashing at the windows, and one small branch poking through the broken pane like a beckoning skeleton finger.
“Is that the..?” Jane began.
“Yes,” Sam answered. “The big oak on the corner. First time I’ve seen this side of it.”
“Good thing it wasn’t a yard taller,” Reggie gasped.
“Good thing we aren’t under it!” Sam retorted, rushing to stuff a sweatshirt into the broken pane to protect his desk. Then he yelled, “Jesus, the cars!” and they all ran out in the wind and rain to see the devastation. The mammoth tree had fallen across every car and truck parked against the south wing, including Jane’s Buick, Reggie’s GMC, Sam’s new Ford pickup, and a couple of trailers. Everything was crushed beyond repair, looking like matchbook cars that a giant had stepped on. Sam’s truck alarm bleated piteously as another bolt of lightning struck out in the fields. Nasty black clouds broiled over their heads. Other big trees swayed threateningly and the rain was driving like nails, so they rushed back into the west wing door, fighting to slam it shut.
Once in the office, Jane peeled off her damp sweatshirt and then walked to the window in a daze, as if she could see through the curtain of branches still slapping at the windows. The office was now dark and shadowy, even in the afternoon. Only Sam’s mongrel lamps were fighting the gloom, since the fluorescent cylinders were toast, and not an option even if Sam wanted to turn them on. Jane shivered in only a tee-shirt and clutched her bare arms. “My car. Most everything I own is in that car.” She walked away and ranted helplessly, “I now own exactly nothing—not even transportation!”
“Calm down, calm down,” Sam said. “Got any more of that brandy, Reggie?”
“I don’t want any brandy!” Jane yelled, as she paced around the office gripping her sides. “Everything I had is ruined—even my Teddy Bears. I feel like a big, trapped rat!”
“Listen, we’re all trapped here now,” Sam spoke as he worked on further securing the broken window with duct tape and a plastic bag. “My truck, and Reggie’s are as flat as pancakes. At least you’r
e trapped with us.”
Jane dropped into the rocking chair, still clutching her arms for warmth. She sighed heavily, “you’re right. If you guys can take this...I mean, my car and all my stuff together wouldn’t make a very good yard sale. You lost two good trucks.”
“They’re insured,” Sam said, as he unfurled the large road map and tacked it back in place. Then he shook broken glass off his chair into a wastebasket and wiped the rain off with paper towels. “I just wish we had parked them in the indoor ring sooner. But I was waiting to see if any more trailers showed up—didn’t want to get the trucks boxed in.”
Reggie and Jane stood up to gather damp papers the wind had scattered.
“Well,” Reggie mused as he and Jane slapped a pile of papers back on the desk, “we waited a little too long, and they’re definitely boxed in now.”
“Did...ah, that tree fall without help?” Jane questioned Sam.
“I’m sure the lightning was responsible. It was getting hollow in places, I knew it was weak. The trunk’s all split and twisted—no chain-saw marks. Besides, I think we would’ve noticed someone out there chain-sawing trees in the rain.”
“Played nicely into someone’s plans, though,” Reggie commented, seating himself in Old Ugly and raking damp white hair with fingers as if to calm his thoughts. Rain churned soggy leaves at the windows.
“Didn’t it,” Sam agreed.
Jane’s face blanched as pale as paper. “I better call Madeline. I’m surprised she hasn’t called me already. I was supposed to be out of here by now.” She started towards the wall to get the portable phone off its base unit, and stopped in her tracks. The phone was not there.
Sam looked around and said: “I must have walked off with it again, it’s around somewhere—I used it a few hours ago to try to call Lars.” He walked over and pressed a locater button on the base that should’ve made the phone ring. He opened the door and listened, but there was silence. “Hmmm. Strange.”
“Ha!” Reggie said. “Last time it was in a hay manger.”
“I hope I didn’t do that again!” Sam complained, even though he was sure he knew what had happened to the phone. He slapped at his hip for his cell phone, but that was gone too. “Damnit! I left my cell phone on the dash in the truck so I could get under the cars.”
“And now it’s under our friend here, the tree,” Reggie nodded towards it.
Jane sat back down in the rocking chair. “What will I do now?” she said, mostly to herself, as she jerked the rocker back and forth.
“Jesus,” Sam gasped, and Jane saw him staring at the wall next to the office door. She followed his eyes. “What..?”
“The ring of keys for the trucks.” Another bolt of lightning lit up the office and the following crack of thunder rattled the windows. Reggie jumped up and walked over to the peg used to hold keys for the heavy trucks parked in the cellar. Both the ring that was usually attached to Dylan, and the extra ring of keys were gone. Reggie strained to look behind the file cabinets in case they had fallen.
“They won’t be there Reggie,” Sam advised. “Someone was thinking ahead.”
“Nope, no sign of them—not that keys would do us any good. We’d never get any vehicles past that tree trunk anyway.”
Jane started to shake in her chair as twigs clawed at the windows like little bony fingers. Murky light cast watery shadows of leaves that played over their faces and slithered across the office floor. Tears streamed from her eyes.
Sam looked askance at her. “You aren’t crying are you?”
“No,” she blubbered, I’m laughing...” She wiped away the loathsome tears.
Sam shook his head. “I could jog to the mansion. Get some help.”
“Sure...split up, just what someone wants.”
“You could jog with me, you’re probably faster than me anyway with those legs...but then that would leave Reggie alone.”
“I can take care of myself,” Reggie shot back. “But not sure they’d care a twit about helping Jane. Probably just leave you two out there banging on the door, and it’s over two miles and dangerous walking in rough weather. And another mile from the mansion to nothing but a deserted country road through the woods.” Reggie turned and gestured towards the flailing tree branches. “The whole area between here and the mansion is covered with those huge old trees. If you don’t get struck by lightning, one of those things could fall on you.”
“He’s right,” Sam agreed, gazing at the foliage pummeling windows. “Just too dangerous out there.” On cue, lightning blasted the ground nearby and thunder jolted their bones.
Jane got up and walked around, trying to look out the window, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I wonder if Lucinda made it back okay.”
“Probably lying out there like the wicked witch,” Sam joked, trying to improve her mood. He removed his damp denim jacket and shook water out of his hair. Then he said, “Maybe I can locate another phone.” He looked at the door.
“I wouldn’t,” Reggie advised.
“No?”
“As of this moment, we’re the only three people in the barn—that we know of. And like we’ve been saying all along, we shouldn’t split up. Besides, the office and probably Elliot’s skybox are locked up tight as a drum.”
“You’re right. I tried to put the cake holder and stuff back in the skybox, and couldn’t get in. Had to leave the things in front of the door.”
As if to emphasize the growing sense of unease, the wind keened and howled and shuddered the windows in their panes. Another crack of lightning hit a distant tree, making them jump and cringe as it crashed to the ground. Several horses whinnied in panic.
“See—you really don’t want to be out there,” Reggie stated.
“Boy, I can’t even check my truck, can I?”
“Nope. Won’t be much to check anyway. It’s a pancake now.”
Sam sighed. “This is damn aggravating.” He hung his jacket on a peg, and looked at Jane shivering and rubbing her arms. He yanked one of a collection of sweatshirts off another peg and tossed it to her. “Here—put this on or we’ll lose you to pneumonia and they won’t have to kill you.”
“Thanks,” Jane smirked, catching the heavy shirt and pulling it on.
“I think I’ll just get on line again, while we still have power. I’m surprised that tree didn’t take down the lines.”
“Just missed em,” Reggie announced, straining to see through the bouncing canopy. Sam, still standing, leaned over the keyboard to get back on the net.
Jane walked over and—after checking the seat closely—plopped in his swivel chair to watch the screen, engulfed in a giant sweatshirt with the legend OLD NAVY. It was warm and dry, but didn’t cure the shivers that wracked her.
“God, are you still cold?” Sam asked. “The electric heat is functioning...”
“She’s not shivering from cold,” Reggie announced, getting up and digging out his hidden bottle. He poured them all a little brandy in paper cups.
Jane accepted it without comment.
Sam patted her back. “Hang in there kiddo, Reggie and I are still kicking, and we’ll be tough to take down.”
“I’m okay, I’m done with the crying thing,” she sniffed, trying to force a weak smile.
“Okay...” Sam said as he glanced at the wall clock that read 2:45, “let’s see if we can get help this way.” He connected to the service provider AOL. As soon as he was on the net, a little box popped up on the right of the screen with a list of first names. BRIAN was on the list. Jane sat forward with a squeak. “Is that Brian on your Buddy List?” She asked, looking at a little menu box.
“Yes. Brian gave me his email address last night, so I installed it into the Buddy list,” Sam said as rain, leaves and branches danced behind them in the gloomy window.
“Is he on the net now?” she asked.
“No. See the zero-slash-one beside his name? That means he’s not on line right now. We’ll have to send him a regular email.�
��
“Who are all those other names, if I can be so nosy?”
“They’re friends from Louisville—Churchill Downs Racetrack. Two are jockeys, and this one, Bill, is a trainer.”
“So, just how would someone go about using this Buddy List?” Jane inquired, not having the time or access to a computer herself.
“It’s easy, just send them an instant message. See this?” Sam pointed the arrow to SEND IM. “First, you click on SEND IM...” he did so and a blank box popped up on the middle of the screen. “Then click on your “buddy” Brian.”
Jane gave him a look.
“Now, all you have to do is type in a message and press send, and the message will pop up on the person’s screen if he’s online.”
“Pretty cool,” Jane commented, sitting back in the chair, huddled in the sweatshirt and sipping brandy, ignoring the monster tree behind her waving for attention.
“Brian’s been on the net almost as much as I have,” Sam said. “He’s got a new project on the North Carolina coast and he’s worried about flood damage and erosion, so he’s probably following the weather also. Believe it or not, there’s another, smaller hurricane chasing this one right up the coast...”
Sam began typing an email message to Brian:
SOS FROM SPRINGHILL. ALL CARS HAVE BEEN DISABLED, INCLUDING JANE’S. NO WAY TO GET HER HOME, AND NO PHONE. PLEASE CONTACT DETECTIVE WESTERLUND AND MADELINE AT BOSTON GENERAL. SAM
“There,” Sam said, as he hit send. At least someone will hear from us!
Thirty-four stories in the air, Brian Canaday looked out of his glass tower to the central artery below. He had a birds-eye view of the inner harbor, the Boston landscape and the streamer of elevated expressway winding through and around the city’s tall towers. Monster black clouds traveled by the skyscrapers as if on an errand, blown by strong winds that also chattered overhanging expressway signs and street lamps. Even in the inner harbor the ocean boiled with white chop, and occasionally a fractured bolt of lightning would jump between clouds.