Opus Odyssey: A Survival and Preparedness Story (One Man's Opus Book 2)

by Boyd Craven III

  “You still scared of saying it?”

  Opus hopped out Rick’s side and Tina slammed her door, waiting near the front of the big van.

  “She thinks I’m scared of telling her I love her,” Rick told Opus.

  Tina made a low growling sound in her throat, not unlike Opus, a sign of her light frustration, and stomped off to get caffeine.

  Lots of caffeine.

  10

  Rick

  I’d seen mountains before.

  In books, magazines and even on TV. I was not prepared to see them in real life like I thought I was. Not only was the air a little thinner when I caught my first glimpse, but it felt like the rest of my breath had been sucked out of my mouth. I put my blinker on and slowed down in the breakdown lane. I pulled to a stop and felt a wet nose push up against my hand. I pet my fuzzy buddy and opened the door. Tina had fallen asleep again after lunch, and I’d worked on dictating an outline for a story in a different genre.

  I wasn’t going to abandon what I was doing, but Tina’s suggestion had given me an idea to do something outside of the normal. I walked around to the side door, not having let Opus out on the driver’s side. I could tell by the way he wiggled that he wanted out to stretch and to mark a tree… well, in this case, a rock or shrub. The breakdown lane here almost looked like an uphill runaway lane and had two empty lanes of traffic beside it. I’d pulled off onto the gravel edge of the shoulder.

  “Come on boy, you gotta go?” I asked him. He bounded out.

  “Whazzat?” Tina said in a fuzzy voice, and then sat up suddenly.

  “Hey, babe,” I said reaching over the seat to touch her shoulder. “I just pulled off to let Opus go to the bathroom and take a picture.

  Tina looked over her shoulder at me and then ahead of her. She cracked her door open and stepped out.

  “You want me to take a picture of you with the snow caps in the background?” She rubbed her eyes.

  “I uh… I was going to take a picture of the…”

  “Stand over there,” she said, smiling and pulling my phone from my hands and pointing to where I was supposed to go.

  I listened, and Opus joined me a second later. “She’s kind of pushy, isn’t she?” I asked him.

  He chuffed.

  “I heard that, you two,” Tina said, and then took a few pictures and waved me back over and handed me the phone.

  “I didn’t do it, can’t prove it,” I lied.

  Opus hopped into the van, and disappeared into the middle, where he liked to sleep behind the bump that’s called the doghouse.

  “Wow, how long was I out?” Tina asked.

  “Well, we have… I don’t know… a couple hours left until the edge of Utah?” I pocketed my phone.

  “You know, you don’t have to let me sleep all the time.”

  “I know, but you didn’t get any sleep last night.”

  “Neither of us did. You’re driving though.”

  I had coffee! With that, I can conquer all!

  “We’ll stop earlier,” I told her. “Maybe we should go somewhere that we can do a sit-down dinner.”

  “It’s up to you.” She grinned and wrapped the front of me with both arms, pulling me close in a hug.

  “Well, we’re just about there, and we’re early for the show so I guess we can take it slow from here on out?”

  Her answer was a kiss, and after that, I was definitely looking to stop sooner than later. The hotel we found wasn’t a chain, just a mom and pop setup that looked like old log cabins had been built right next to each other. I paid for the night, and then we walked next door to the restaurant and bar, Opus following us.

  “I’m going to go in and ask if they mind. Some places are—”

  “Hey there,” a man said, coming out the door, a little unsteady on his feet.

  “Hi,” Tina and I chorused, and stepped out of the way, watching him head toward the hotel and thankfully not one of the cars parked next to the bar.

  “I can, if you want me to, I will,” I told her, hearing a jukebox playing an old western song.

  She smiled and made a shooing gesture. I took the hint and went inside.

  The bar was built like the small cabin motel next door. Old logs, worn smooth from countless hands, made the outer walls. There were a couple dozen tables on one side, where the other was a little more open. A pool table dominated one open area, a dart board and a taped off area in another. People seemed to be mostly congregating near the bar or the pool table though. There were stuffed mounts, boar, deer, elk and even a moose hanging at various corners, but the moose is what caught my eye. The enormous rack of the creature had been adorned with various bras hanging from it. I did a double take to see that the rack was holding up something that usually held up—

  “How many, or do you want to sit at the bar?” a woman in a red checkered shirt, tied at the waist above skin-tight jeans asked, her hair a mass of black curls held down by a straw cowboy hat.

  “My fiancé and me. But I was wondering, is it dog-friendly in here?”

  “Service animal?” she asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

  “Well, he’s a protection dog. I don’t know if she’s actually gotten the—”

  “Oh yeah, working dogs like that are allowed in this place, especially if they’re well-behaved,” she said, and then ducked as something sailed over her head.

  I saw it out of the corner of my eye; a bald man who looked remarkably like the woman I was talking to was smirking as he pulled another cardboard coaster out.

  “Daddy, stop!”

  “Is your pooch well-behaved?” he asked, giving me a grin.

  “Yes. We just don’t want to leave him in the van while we eat and he’ll stay under the table, no worries.”

  “Well, tell your missus and your fuzzy friend to head on in. I’ll get you menus,” he said, and got up and headed toward the bar.

  I went out and motioned for Tina, a smile on my face. I’d missed something in that exchange. Something the father had picked up on or that had been going on before we went in. I puzzled that as Tina put her hand into mine and we headed over to the table that the waitress was waving me over to.

  I pulled Tina’s chair out, and she smiled up at me as she sat, then I took my spot. Since the table wasn’t as large as I’d hoped, only big enough for four chairs pushed halfway in, Opus sat on the outside, between Tina and me.

  We ordered drinks; me the kind that could do serious damage if I had more than two, and then looked over the menu.

  “You hungry, buddy?” Tina asked him.

  “I bet you he wants a bacon cheeseburger, minus the bun,” I told her.

  Opus whined.

  “Or, some bacon cheese fries with a side of smoked sausage and some—”

  Opus whined louder and got up, putting his head on his mom’s lap, his tail wagging.

  “My daughter wanted to know if you’d sign this?” the dad said, coming back out, a book in one hand, a tray of ice water in another.

  I looked up and saw his name tag as well. Curtis. He was holding one of my newer PNR books, my face clearly on the back cover. I had been embarrassed about doing that, but my cover designer and my VA both talked me into it. Apparently, it was ‘my brand.' I’d run into people that had heard of me, but this was the first time somebody had recognized me by sight, that I could recall.

  “Sure,” I said and took the book and the pen, then opened the cover. “I uh… missed her name,” I admitted.

  “Jessica,” he said with a grin, giving me the nonverbal that he was doing this for his daughter and it amused him that she had sent him out and not come out herself.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing him the book back.

  “Thanks. She’ll be out soon, I hope,” he chuckled and headed toward the bar where he’d been sitting earlier.

  “What was that about?” Tina asked me, a wry grin on her face.

  “I think… you know what, it’d only be a guess at this point,�
�� I admitted.

  After a couple minutes, I was expecting Curtis to bring our drinks, but a red-faced Jessica came out and gave us our daily ration of alcohol and thanked me for signing her book. I told her no problem, and we put in our orders. Two patties for Opus with bacon and cheese, I went for a chicken sandwich, and Tina got herself a chicken Caesars salad. Jessica wrote it all down and then headed back toward the bar, where I assumed the kitchen was behind the narrow door.

  “So, you have a fan…?” Tina teased.

  “I guess so,” I told her. “First time that’s happened.”

  “No, it isn’t!” she said. “Annette remembered, you told me about that.”

  “Annette knew my name. She,” I pointed toward the small swinging door, “recognized me from the book. I always thought it was a mistake to put that picture on there.”

  “You’re just self-conscious,” Tina said, scooting her chair toward me a little bit, making Opus look up at her sharply as her chair squeaked.

  She took my hand.

  “It’s weird,” I told her in a quiet voice.

  “It’s only weird if you make it weird. Wait, what are you talking about exactly; that you have a fangirl, or that you have your picture on a book jacket?”

  “Both,” I admitted.

  “Oooohhhhh,” she said and poked me in the side as I was trying to take a drink of my rum and coke.

  It went down the wrong pipe, and I barely turned my head as I coughed, setting my drink down. Tina laughed for a moment, then pounded my back, and a wet tongue got the bottom of my chin. My eyes watered with the rum seemingly coming out of my nose and I sat up, giving Opus a pat on the head and grabbed a napkin and wiped my face as the wracking coughs subsided. I hoped the fur face had a good laugh, Tina sure did.

  “Your timing sucks,” I told her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a grin.

  I wiped my face and the table in case I’d made more of a mess than I’d seen before, and made sure my eyes weren’t watering from the strong spirits. I usually stuck to beer, but for some reason, I’d felt like ordering a Manhattan.

  That was when our food came out. Jessica dropped it off, thanked me again for signing her book and took off to drop off her tray and reload with food for another table. A jukebox played an old country song, and I took a sip of my drink, letting the booze relax me, and the tension left me.

  “Ma’am, can I ask you to dance?” a man asked.

  “Well, I don’t…” Tina’s words trailed off.

  The man looked to be about old Sarge’s age. He was wearing denim from head to foot with the exception of a black felt Stetson, and he carried a black lacquered cane. Tina looked at me, and I smiled and shrugged.

  “Sure,” she said to the man, while standing up.

  They made their way to an open spot between the tables. The old cowboy leaned his cane against a chair, and they danced slowly. Opus stood up and looked at them, then at me.

  “He’s harmless, buddy. If it was one of the younger guys, I might have had an issue. Probably going to make the old man’s night, her dancing with him. Don’t you think?”

  He chuffed and then sat up straighter as he noticed the food I hadn’t shared out yet. I took one of the smaller plates and cut the bacon cheeseburger (minus the bun) into three strips, grease filling the bottom of the plate as the burger had been cooked to perfection.

  Opus whined, and I set the plate down near my foot. Ten seconds later it was completely gone, and Opus was licking his chops. I set Tina’s ice water down and held the edge as he lapped water out. When we got into the hotel room, I’d get out his food and water dishes. Right now was just a special treat. Opus was on the larger size for his breed, and he could easily have eaten four burgers, but all the grease would have made him gassy later on. I’d found that out the hard way.

  “Thank you,” Tina said as the old cowboy was pulling her chair back out.

  The song hadn’t been a long one and judging by the limp, even that much dancing had taken its toll on the cowboy.

  “Thank you for letting me take your lady for a twirl,” he told me, one hand resting on the table heavily, on my left side.

  “It’s no problem. You want to sit a minute, rest your leg?” I asked, noting that it was his left leg that he was almost dragging.

  “If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

  Opus looked up over the table as the cowboy almost fell into the chair, and they started at each other for a long moment. “And what’s your name, fella? A big guy like you should be a Brutus or Zeus… or, I know, maybe it’s Bocephus?”

  “That’s my baby, Opus,” Tina said with a grin.

  Right then and there I decided that, despite being the world’s most introverted introvert, I was going to learn how to dance because I could see that Tina’s color was up and her smile touched her eyes. Opus put his head in her lap, a welcome back hug.

  “Looks half-wolf to me. I’m Oscar.”

  “Rick,” I said offering my hand, which he shook promptly, “You know my Tina already, and our fuzzy son, Opus.”

  “You don’t own no dog. The dog owns you!” Oscar said, and Opus chuffed at him in response.

  Tina and I laughed, and I slid my plate in his direction. “Hungry?”

  “No sir, just saw a pretty lady. Miss Tina, please know this isn’t a line, but you do look an awful lot like my daughter. I do appreciate you giving me the honor of a dance.”

  “It was my pleasure,” she said, noticing her water glass was half empty, and she shot me the stink eye.

  I pulled my plate back and dug in. Opus went from Tina over to me, laying his head on my leg, totally shameless. I handed a fry down as Oscar the cowboy watched.

  “Where is your daughter?” Tina asked, not letting the silence get awkward.

  “Fallujah,” he said, looking at her again, fighting a smile.

  Tina turned up the wattage, and he grinned. So cheesy, but as soon as he smiled, she picked up her burger, almost the size of her head, and took a big bite.

  “Army?” I asked for lack of a better question.

  “Yeah, she’s attached to a helicopter. Door gunner and electronics specialist. I worried about her for years and years, but she says it’s important work and she’s in no more danger than anybody else over there. Probably less, truth be told.”

  “That’s good,” I said watching as Tina’s eyes almost rolled into the back of her head, the burgers were that good.

  “Anyways, I think I’m a little steadier on my feet. Even though you kinda look like my little Danielle, I did appreciate the dance from a pretty lady,” he said then tipped his hat her way and got to his feet slowly, leaning on the cane.

  “Thank you for the dance. That was fun.”

  He gave us both a grin and pointed at Opus, then Tina, and some silent communication passed between the three of them, and Opus let out a chuff. I thought I had an idea what went on, but I could only say what I’d have thought of it. He was telling fur face to keep an eye on his momma. I gave him a polite wave, and he gave me one back.

  Tina watched him go for a second and then dug into her burger. I’m not the world’s largest man, but compared to Tina, I was probably double her. She polished off her food faster than I could finish mine, and I gave half of my fries to Opus.

  She had one sip of my drink, coughed and then finished down her Sprite. Feeling full and relaxed, I paid my tab for the food and drink and then made my way back to the table where Opus was standing up, the fur on his back at attention on the ridge over his spine. A low growl emanated, but it was too low to hear over the thump of the music coming out of the jukebox. Two men were standing behind Tina, who’d turned to one side to talk to one of them.

  “See, my husband is a real person,” she said, showing me an exasperated look.

  “That ain’t no husband. Neither of y’all are wearing a ring,” he said, clearly inebriated and swaying, but definitely not in tune with the music.

  “I told you,
Steve, let’s go. The lady doesn't want to dance,” the less drunk of the two said, pulling on the shoulder of the man who’d been talking to Tina.

  He was about my height, but wiry. I probably had a good twenty or thirty pounds on the guy, most of it in the upper body. He looked like if he stood up straight, he’d droop, but I could see the scars across his fists and a few on his face. He’d been a scrapper, probably still was. Opus increased his volume, teeth starting to show.

  “Nein,” I whispered, and he broke eye contact with the man and looked at me. “These two were just going now, weren’t they?” I finished, but I was looking at the less drunk friend.

  “Yeah, we’re going to get going,” he said tugging on his friend’s shoulder again.

  He shrugged the grip off and shot him a look. “If she can have a dance with that crusty old cowpoke, then she can take time out of her precious day to have a dance with me.”

  He turned to Tina. “Right, sweetheart?”

  Jessica walked out of the batwing doors separating the kitchen from the bar and saw the tension from both me and Opus. She ducked back behind the door.

  “I’m not dancing with you,” Tina said, not standing up. “So, you might as well go.”

  “I told you, honey—” he started to say, but as soon as he tried to grab her shoulder Opus launched himself over the table.

  He didn’t latch on with his teeth, but the bulk of over one hundred pounds of canine hitting him in the chest while he was already tipsy was all it took. I was already moving, and Tina was giving him the command to break off, stand down. The German command she gave was almost lost over the chorus of a song about some punk who cheated on his wife and how she keyed the crap out of his truck. I ignored all of that and got between Tina and the two men, seeing Opus had two feet on the ground, two feet on the man’s chest, snarling a warning.

  “Opus, I got—”

  A knife flashed from the man’s right hand, and Opus jumped back. I’d pulled my Beretta out in a smooth motion just as Tina was screaming for everyone to stop. The man with the knife saw me draw and he held still, the knife in his fist, still over his chest.