Thompson and Andy watched as she made a quick search to locate her Maglite. She found it on the end table, snatched it up and walked towards the kitchen. They got up and followed her. Michelle walked straight through the kitchen, unlocked the front door and stepped out onto the small covered porch. She turned the flashlight on and scanned her front yard left to right, then back again. The rain and wind had not let up, but the powerful beam illuminated her property enough that she could see clearly. She completed another arc with a flashlight, double checking for no other reason than to make sure she hadn’t lost her mind. She hadn’t.
“Well, that just about figures,” Michelle said with a sigh.
“What?” Both Thompson and Andy asked together.
Michelle answered with a shake of her head. “For a while now I’ve had this feeling that I forgot something, or that we missed something . . . or that something was just . . . wrong. I couldn’t place it. Every time I’d try to put my finger on it, it would just disappear. But your comment about having an armored division finally triggered it enough that I was able to bring it to the surface.”
Andy and Thompson both waited, anticipation mixed with impatience showed on both of their faces.
Finally Michelle spoke. “Somebody stole my truck.”
“Huh?”
“My truck. My Explorer, it’s gone,” Michelle said while shaking her head.
“Where was it?” Thompson asked.
Michelle turned the flashlight on again and held the beam on an area of weed overgrown gravel just in front of where Andy had parked. “Right there, that’s where I always keep it.”
“Where do you keep the keys for it?” Andy asked.
Michelle hesitated before answering. When she finally spoke it was low. “In the ignition.”
“Where?” Thompson choked out, the amusement clearly audible in his voice.
“In the damn ignition, where else! Come on people, I live out in the middle of nowhere. My closest neighbors are rabbits, deer, and a little old, white haired grandma . . .”
Andy cut in. “And two other houses that the residents move in and out of like a revolving doors.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s just never been any problem before,” Michelle replied as she shined her flashlight over the confines of her yard again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, consciously and forcefully exhaling slowly, trying to let it go. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anyhow, since I didn’t plan on driving it back. It just sucks. I only had three payments left on it.”
“Tell you what Michelle, first thing in the morning we’ll stop by the bank and let ‘em know that your last payments will probably be a little late on account of someone stealing your truck. From what I hear the bank has a new drive-thru window . . . I mean wall. ‘Course if you have a large amount of change, or more than three transactions, or, if you’re currently being pursued by more than six zombies you still have to use the inside teller.” Andy said it in a perfectly level tone, waiting and watching her face for a reaction. It didn’t take long before she broke into a smile, which was quickly followed by a chuckle and then on to full-fledged laughter. Thompson and Andy joined in as well. They were still standing on the front porch laughing when they saw headlights approaching.
“Let’s get back inside,” Michelle said as she watched the headlights grow closer.
The three of them quickly entered the house and shut the door, and then moved toward the windows and peeked out. The vehicle was approaching from the opposite direction of town.
“It’s slowing down,” Thompson observed.
“I see it,” Andy said. “Is everybody armed?”
Thompson dashed back into the living room and grabbed his M4, now fully loaded courtesy of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife ammo cache. He was back seconds later, just in time to hear Michelle say, “Shit, they’re slowing down more . . . they’re gonna turn in my driveway.”
The three of them watched as the vehicle stopped on the road outside of Michelle’s driveway, idling there for a few seconds before cutting the wheel and turning in. It pulled directly behind Andy’s pickup and sat there, still running, waiting. A few seconds later it moved backwards, stopped, then the brilliant high beams came on and the truck angled forward to point them at the front door. Between the storm and the bright headlights none of them could make out the vehicle or its occupants.
“Are you expecting company?” Andy asked.
Michelle ignored the question and its obvious answer.
“What do you want to do?” Thompson asked.
“You two wait here,” Michelle said, “I’m going to head out the back door and go around. Be ready to come out and save my butt if I screw this up.”
“Be careful,” Andy said.
“Yeah, well . . . no guts, no glory, right?” she replied.
“Glory is overrated. I’d rather you keep your guts where they belong instead of spilled all over your yard if something bad goes down,” Andy replied.
“Thanks for the visual Andy,” Michelle said with a slight laugh as she turned and left.
“Chick’s got some stones,” Thompson quipped as he watched outside.
“Yeah, ain’t that the truth. Remind me to tell you about the time that Michelle, Eric, and I went deer hunting a few years ago,” Andy said.
“Why? What happened?” Thompson asked curiously.
Andy answered, “Well for now let’s just leave it at ‘there was a grizzly involved and Michelle was hunting with a bow,’ and we’ll get to the rest of the story later. Maybe.”
They watched out the window as the high beams brought the rainstorm into glittering focus. “I can’t hardly see nothing with those headlights shining in my eyes,” Thompson said.
“Yeah, we need to mov… . . .”
Andy’s sentence was interrupted by the sight of Michelle suddenly appearing out of the shadows off the driver’s side door of the vehicle. Her flashlight’s reflected illumination threw her silhouette into a ghastly half light, but it was enough that they could see her standing there, gun drawn and pointed.
Andy swore as he headed for the door with Thompson right behind him. Both of them charged onto the front porch with guns drawn and pointed.
“ANDY WAIT,” Michelle yelled over the wind and rain as she holstered her gun.
He froze, gun still pointed at the windshield as he watched Michelle step toward the vehicle. Two seconds later the headlights went off. Now that Michelle’s flashlight was the only source of illumination in the yard, he could clearly see her leaning against the driver’s side window as she spoke to somebody, gesturing towards Andy and Thompson and nodding her head. A few seconds later Michelle trotted over and passed them with a quick “be right back.” She disappeared inside the house and came out a short time later with a short cylindrical object in her hand. When she exited the porch the object blossomed into an umbrella which she used to escort the vehicle occupant back into her house. Andy and Thompson followed.
Once back inside and in the living room she turned to Andy and Thompson and said, “Gentlemen, may I present to you Mrs. Sarah Glass, my neighbor. Andy, if you don’t mind, can you throw on more water to boil for tea? I’ve got to go change out of these wet cloths.” Before Andy could answer she was gone.
“Land sakes, that girl is going to catch her death of pneumonia if she doesn’t learn to stay out of the rain.” Mrs. Glass’s voice was musical and light, reminding Andy of someone whose life was spent surrounded by laughter, joy, and probably dozens of grandchildren. He liked her already.
Michelle came back a few minutes later in a pair of sweats and a dark brown baggy sweater adorned with a pattern of eight tiny reindeer pulling a sleigh across the sky. It was the only time she had ever worn it as she recalled. Well, except for the first time she tried it on that Christmas morning a few years ago after her grandmother had knitted it. It was the traditional “ugly” Christmas sweater. Definitely warm, overly so as a matter of fact, but whatever insulating value i
t had was overpowered by the boxy shape of the garment and the clashing colors of the pink and green reindeer. She noticed Thompson and Andy trying to suppress their grins and was just about to explain the circumstances behind her acquiring the monstrosity when Mrs. Glass chirped, “What a lovely sweater. I used that exact pattern to knit one for my son-in-law a few years ago.” Michelle swallowed hard and turned away from Mrs. Glass so she wouldn’t be exposed to the boys’ silent howling.
“Sarah, let me get you a cup of tea,” Michelle said as she headed toward the kitchen. To her credit Michelle made it almost four steps before breaking out into a semi-quiet fit of chuckling. A few minutes later Michelle came back out with a tray balancing four ceramic coffee mugs on top. Each mug was imprinted with the USFW logo, compliments of a training workshop last fall.
They sat down in the living room, their eyes adjusting to the candlelight as Michelle spoke. “Andy, Thompson, as I said this is Mrs. Sarah Glass. She and her husband Abe live at the farm just down the road from me. Sarah was returning my truck.”
Mrs. Glass took a sip of her tea and replied, “Well that’s not exactly true. I was starting to tell Michelle what really happened when we were sitting out there in the rain. I mean when Michelle was standing in the rain and I was sitting in the nice warm and dry truck.”
Andy said, “Michelle thought somebody swiped her truck.”
“And they might just have if Abe and myself hadn’t come by when we did,” Mrs. Glass said.
“Mrs. Glass, do you have a few minutes to tell us what happened?” Andy asked.
“Call me Sarah, OK . . . and yes, I’d be happy to tell you about the little hooligans.”
Sarah sat down at one end of the couch while Michelle took the other. Andy went back to his recliner and Thompson chose the floor again. A few delicate sips of tea were savored by Sarah before she started talking. “Well, as I started to tell Michelle out in the truck, with all the news that’s been happening in the last week or so, Abe and I have been a might bit concerned about some of them crazy people coming out our way. Especially since our last trip into town a few days ago. It looked like a circus with all of them people from the city parked along the road, starting fights, yelling and screaming and just being rude. And there wasn’t a scrap of anything good to be bought anywhere either, it had all either been bought or swiped. Land sakes, you’d have thought better of folks. We even saw two of those sick people. I’d half expect that the governor should call in the troops to maintain order. But I imagine he has his hands full everywhere else.”
Michelle doubted that Sarah grasped the apparent worldwide scope of the issue, but said nothing.
Another closed-eye sip of tea passed before Sarah continued. ”Well we just turned around and came back to the farm. Them neighbors down there,” she pointed in the dim light back towards town, “were all milling about in their yard when we drove by. Up to no good I’d think, from the way they stared at us. We spent the rest of that day taking a look at all of the stuff we’ve canned over the years and making sure we’ve got enough to ride this out. Our root cellar has been packed to the gills for too long and it’s about time we get to eat some of the stuff we’ve been saving every year. We threw out anything older than two years, which wasn’t much, but at least it made a little bit more room for when I start canning again this fall. But I imagine they’ll be plenty of room if we can’t buy any groceries for while.” Sarah reached out and patted Michelle’s hand. “You come over any time you’re hungry and we’ll try and put some meat on them skinny ribs of yours. And I imagine with all the critters hopping around here that even Abe might be able to luck into a deer now and then. Although the way he shoots he might have better luck tying some ears of corn to the front of his pickup and driving up and down the road.”
They all laughed at her remark, enjoying her wit and obviously full mental capacity for someone of her age.
“So the next morning, the power went out and Abe hooked up his generator so he could start his computer and work on the ‘great American autobiography’ that he’s been tinkering with for about twenty years now. He got another chapter done and went to print it out so I could correct all of his grammar mistakes that evening . . .” Mrs. Glass leaned toward Michelle and whispered loud enough that everybody in the room could hear but still low enough to emphasize what she thought of her husband’s autobiography. “He writes like a canned ham. All salt, no flavor.” She sat back up and had another sip of tea. “Where was I? Oh yes, I remember. Abe discovered he didn’t have any printer paper. All that money he put in to have that fancy computer and printer, and all of them gizmos that go along with it, and the big dummy runs out of paper. Did you ever know a politician who ran out of paper? When he was still in the game it seemed like we were buried in it, and now he doesn’t have any. After discovering this, he starts ranting and raving about how he was sure he just bought a new pack or three not too long ago, and that I probably misplaced it when I cleaned. You know how he gets when he writes.”
Even in the dim light they could all see her exaggerated eye roll. They chuckled again and she lifted her mug, finishing her cup of tea. Michelle asked her if she wanted a refill but she declined, saying, “I don’t want to spend the rest of the night running back and forth to the potty.”
Sarah continued, “I believe I was talking about Abe and his biography. Well, I’ll bet my dear husband spent half the day looking for the packs of printer paper that he imagined he bought in recent history, which could’ve been any time since the bronze age. I spent most of that time cleaning up around the house. Abe finally got tired of looking in the same places a dozen times in a row and went out to the barn to tinker on the tractor. That evening we tried to call some relatives down in the city but we couldn’t get through. I do hope they get the phones working again soon. That was yesterday. This morning we got up, ate some peaches we canned last summer for breakfast, and discovered that the power was out. Well, Abe thought that the power might be out for quite awhile, so we moved everything we could into the deep freeze out in the barn. He’s got a big generator that he can run with his tractor out there. Three years ago we were without power for over a week during the summer, and that tractor generator came in real handy. After we got everything moved, Abe mentioned that it would be the neighborly thing to do if we came over and asked you if you wanted to move your food into our deep freeze until the power came back on. I thought that was a wonderful idea, so we drove over here. I guess we figured with everything going on you wouldn’t be at work, you’d be at home. Well, we didn’t find you, but we did see two of them boys that belong to the house up the road. One of them was inside your car, had it running and everything too. The other one was standing outside looking real nervous when we pulled up behind your car. Well, we knew that they were up to no good. Abe got his pistol out of the glove box just in case, and then he stepped out of our car and went real polite with them hoodlums.” Sarah started chuckling as she recalled the conversation. “Abe said, ‘Morning boys. It seems to me like we have a problem here. You see, I don’t want to shoot you for stealing a car, but my wife thinks that the world would be better off with less criminals in it. Besides, she said her flower bed could use about 300 pounds of fertilizer this year, and I reckon that each of you ought to push 150 at least.’ The one that was in the car got out and stood next to the other one; I could see both of their knees shaking as my husband continued. ‘However, considering the circumstances, I might be able to convince my wife to ease up a bit in her quest for vengeance on neighborhood delinquents. At least if we were able to work out a deal, kinda like probation with court costs. I’m assuming both of you know what that is, right?’ Well them boys went to nodding their heads real agreeable like, but they never took their eyes off that old pistol in Abe’s hand. ‘So let’s see, I’m going to have to charge you at least twenty dollars for the inconvenience of myself having to play sheriff. Add another ten dollars for my mileage driving over here. And then of course there’s reimbur
sement for the gas you’ve used up in that truck you were trying to steal. Let’s say it another ten dollars for that. Now the way I do arithmetic, that sums up to forty dollars. Cash.’” Sarah was giggling as she told how those two boys started stammering and stuttering, saying they didn’t have that kind of money and whatnot.
“So Abe looks at them and says, ‘Well I reckon them fancy shoes you got on are worth about forty dollars a pair. But since you’re both involved, I imagine you should split the cost with one shoe each as payment. I believe I’ll take the left shoe from each of you.’”
Sarah was covering her mouth trying to hide another fit of giggles as she said, “Well them boys was just a-staring at Abe like a possum in the headlights. All of a sudden, BOOM! Abe fired off a shot into the ground about ten feet away. Them boys let out a squeak and jumped about three feet in the air. Then Abe says, ‘Boys, that was what we call compounding interest. And because neither of you look like a banker to me, let me explain it. You see, the initial offer was one shoe each, but since you didn’t pay it on time, in order to settle your debt the price is now four shoes.’ Well, lickety split there were four shoes a-laying on the ground in front of Abe. He takes another long look at them two boys and says, ‘If you look across that field there, you can just see the tip of my barn roof. Now I’m going to go back there and get out my bear rifle. I’m going to sit up in my hay loft and point that gun this way. You two are going to hobble home and write a real good letter of apology to the lady whose truck you tried to steal. And it better be a real good letter. Then you’re going to hobble back down here and put that letter in her mailbox. I ain’t decided yet, but if I end up feeling generous I’ll leave your shoes by the mailbox post. Maybe we can call that a deal . . . a letter and a lesson for the return of a couple pairs of shoes. But just so we’re clear, outside of that one trip back here to deposit the letter, I don’t expect that I’ll be seeing you boys on this property again. If I do, well then we’re gonna see just how accurate that bear rifle is. Does that sound like a plan?’”
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