Not Peachy, Mate

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Not Peachy, Mate Page 4

by Wendy Meadows


  Evan watched the snake fall dead on the hot ground and lay still. “Nice...shooting,” he said, breathing panicked breaths in and out. “I thought I was a dead man for sure.”

  Momma Peach hurried out to Evan, pulled the man to his feet, and wrapped her loving arms around him. “Are you okay, Mr. Evan?”

  Evan, shocked at such love, didn't know what to do. So he simply patted Momma Peach's back and nodded. “I'm okay,” he assured Momma Peach. “Shaken up a bit is all. That snake is one of the most poisonous snakes we have here…one of the most poisonous in the world, in fact. It hides in the sand.”

  Michelle kept her gun aimed at the snake, eased out to it, and grabbed a shovel leaning against the garage door. She brought the blade of the shovel down on the snake, severing it in two right behind its head. “I want to make sure that thing is dead,” she explained, kicked the snake with her right boot, and nodded. “It's dead.”

  Momma Peach let go of Evan. “And so is that man,” she pointed out.

  Evan dropped down to Mitch and checked the man. “He's dead alright,” he confirmed, stood up, and shook his head. “Don't make any sense…”

  “What doesn't make any sense?” Momma Peach asked. “Snake bit him, right?”

  Evan, seeing that Mitch Taylor was clearly dead, felt a sense of relief and fear grip his chest. “Mitch Taylor was the only man who could have wanted Patty dead...so why would he wind up dead now? It just don't make no sense,” he whispered and then looked at the Toyota. “There's your way out of here, if it still drives. I would take it.”

  Michelle focused on the Toyota. The truck was still running. “Momma Peach, we need to—” she began to speak but then stopped when she noticed a trickle of gasoline on the ground below the engine and heard a strange sound grumbling from the engine of the Toyota. Before she could think twice, a loud Boom exploded. The hood on the truck was ripped clean off and went flying into the air. “Down!” Michelle yelled.

  Evan grabbed Momma Peach, bent down, and wrapped his arms around her as the engine erupted in a blazing fire. Momma Peach eased her head up, looked at the blazing engine, and shook her head. “My, my,” she said as sweat poured down her face, “someone is going through a lot of trouble to keep us locked down. Yes sir and yes ma’am.”

  Michelle hurried over to Momma Peach and Evan. “Evan,” she insisted, “there has to be another way out of here. We have to get to the authorities—”

  Evan shook his head. “Your legs are the only things that're going to get you out of Greenglow alive,” he whispered, “but...I don't think any of us are going to walk out of here alive.” Evan stood up, studied the blazing fire, and hurried to the can full of water. “I need to put out this fire before it reaches the gas pumps.”

  Momma Peach looked around. “There's more going on here than we know about. And worse,” Momma Peach added as Evan began dousing the burning engine with water, “we have an unseen killer on the loose that ain't very friendly...not friendly at all. No sir and no ma’am.” Momma Peach pointed at the dead snake. “We have a killer that has used a bullet and a poison snake to kill.”

  “And a scorpion to keep us on our toes.” Michelle walked her eyes around. “Momma Peach, we have to walk back to the front road and hope we can flag down a car.”

  Momma Peach shook her head. “Whoever is doing the killing ain't gonna let us get that far,” she warned Michelle. “Come on, let's start helping Mr. Evan put that there fire out.”

  Michelle hesitated. “Momma Peach, we can't stand around and wait to be killed. We have to act.”

  Momma Peach took Michelle's hand. “Baby,” she said in a somber voice that gave Michelle cold shivers down her spine, “if we try and walk out of this here place, we'll end up roadkill. It's best if we stand still for a bit and get our brains working right before we act.”

  Michelle looked into Momma Peach's eyes and saw a worry she had never seen before—a worry that told Michelle that Momma Peach was not just scared...but downright terrified. “Okay, Momma Peach, we'll stand still and try to form a plan.”

  Momma Peach walked her eyes around the dangerous land. “Mr. Evan said that snake hides in the sand...whoever is doing the killing is out there...hiding in the sand,” she whispered and hurried off to help Evan put out the fire.

  “Good,” a voice said in the distance, watching Momma Peach and the others from behind a large boulder, “stay close.”

  3

  Momma Peach felt her tummy rumbling. “Mr. Evan, I sure am hungry.”

  Evan couldn't take his eyes off the burned and half-crushed Toyota. “I...there is food in my store and in my trailer,” he replied in a distracted voice.

  “Any food sounds good to me.”

  “Uh...the store isn't locked,” Evan told Momma Peach, walked back to his chair, and sat down with worry in his eyes. “Eat what you want...no charge.”

  “Can I bring you back something?” Momma Peach asked. Evan shook his head no. “Okay then...come on,” she told Michelle. Michelle nodded and walked out of the garage with Momma Peach. “That's one worried man.”

  “I know,” Michelle agreed, walking toward the small store. She glanced around and felt a cold chill run down her back. “Momma Peach, Patrick was killed for a reason and so was Mitch Taylor,” she said, shaking off the chills. “I'm certain the killer has a practical agenda...at least in his mind.”

  “Maybe,” Momma Peach replied. She walked up to the front door of the store and paused. The front door was wooden, not glass, so there was no way to see inside. The two simple square windows on the front of the store were obscured with dusty brown curtains. The small building resembled a house more than a gas station. “Get your gun out.”

  Michelle read Momma Peach's worried eyes. “Got it,” she said.

  “While we were all down at poor Patrick's house, the killer could have snuck into any of these places,” Momma Peach said, talking to herself more than Michelle. “The killer could have put a snake or a spider or a scorpion...why, anywhere.”

  “You want to stay outside?” Michelle asked.

  Momma Peach nearly nodded but then decided it wouldn't be right to send her baby into a strange gas station store all alone. “No, Momma Peach better go inside with you.”

  “Okay,” Michelle replied, grateful that the woman she loved more than life was sticking at her side.

  Momma Peach patted Michelle's arm, carefully opened the wooden door, and peeked her head inside. The room was lined with wooden shelves with a worn wooden front counter on one wall and a drink cooler on the back wall plugged into an electrical outlet. An ancient fan sat on the wooden counter, collecting dust rather than circulating stale air among the dingy walls and the stocks of canned food. “Looks...okay,” Momma Peach whispered and eased through the door, stepped on the creaky wooden floor, and began searching the room with clearer eyes. “Smells like...dust in here.”

  Michelle stepped through the door with her gun at the ready. She threw her eyes around and began searching for snakes, spiders and scorpions. “I don't see anything.”

  Momma Peach moved over to the wooden counter and quickly turned on the floor fan. The fan roared to life and began throwing out warm air, but at least it was moving and felt like a breeze. “Oh, talk to me,” Momma Peach cried out, threw her arms up in the air, and began bathing herself in the air that fan was throwing out. “Yes sir and yes ma’am, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Michelle shook her head and roamed over to a shelf and began examining the food there. “All dry goods...crackers...rice...flour...tuna and beans in cans…nothing the heat can spoil,” she told Momma Peach. She picked up a box of saltine crackers that was only a little bit dusty and walked over to the fan. “The air sure does feel nice.”

  “Yes, it does.” Momma Peach made room for Michelle, stood in front of the fan for a couple of minutes until she felt cooled off, and then began exploring the store. “Mr. Evan is smart to only have dry goods,” she told Michelle while maintaining a care
ful eye for any unwanted venomous visitors. “Here is some powdered milk and some cornmeal...ooh, dried beans. I spy some dried fruit...even cake mixes...”

  Michelle focused on the cooler. “Maybe there’s something more appetizing in the cooler.”

  “Okay.”

  Michelle walked to the cooler, pulled up the metal lid, and looked down into the frosty white box, expecting to find cold sodas. Rows of cold soda cans did appear, but the soda cans weren't alone: a white envelope sat on top with Evan's name typed across the front. “Momma Peach, you better get back here.”

  Momma Peach lifted her head and saw Michelle pulling a white envelope from the cooler. “So much for a chocolate cake,” she said, tossed down a box of cake mix, and hurried to Michelle. “What did you find?”

  “Let's see,” Michelle said. She handed Momma Peach her gun, opened the envelope, and pulled out a folded-up piece of plain white paper. “His name is typed on the envelope...paper is folded very neatly...” Michelle unfolded the letter and her stomach lurched at what was written inside. She read it out loud. “Evan, leave Greenglow or you’re a dead man. You have until tomorrow morning.” Michelle lowered her hand. “Well?” she asked Momma Peach.

  Momma Peach rubbed her chin. “I ain't exactly sure.”

  “Neither am I,” Michelle confessed. “It seems like someone is trying to clear this town out...but why? What's out here except snakes, spiders and—”

  “The water spot,” Momma Peach finished for Michelle in a thoughtful voice. She handed Michelle her gun back, fetched two cool sodas out of the cooler, handed Michelle one, and then began to pace around. “Patrick was one of them geologists.”

  Michelle placed her gun down on the cooler and opened her soda. As she did, a scorpion crawled out from under the cooler and instantly struck Michelle's boot. “Hey!” Michelle yelled, dropped her soda can and jumped back away from the scorpion.

  Momma Peach saw the scorpion preparing for battle and instinctively launched the soda can she was holding into the air like a rocket. The soda can hit the scorpion with amazing accuracy and burst open with fierce violence. The scorpion, now crippled and disabled, limped back under the cooler and vanished. “Michelle...did that awful thing...sting you?” Momma Peach panicked. She ran to her and checked her boot.

  “The stinger didn't get past my boot...” Michelle took her hand. “Momma Peach, you're wearing sandals...if you had been standing where I was...” Michelle couldn't finish her sentence. Momma Peach’s face turned pale as a ghost. Michelle pulled Momma Peach away from the cooler and hurried her back outside. “That scorpion looked like the same type I saw in Patrick's truck.”

  “Yes, I noticed that, too,” Momma Peach agreed. She stared at the store for a few seconds and then looked around. “We best get back to Mr. Evan and show him that ugly note.”

  “First we're going to get you a pair of boots to wear,” Michelle insisted. “I packed an extra pair of boots in my suitcase. Luckily our feet are about the same size. I'm only about a half size bigger than you are.” Michelle hurried Momma Peach to the wooden trailer attached to the dune buggy. “Good thing we put our suitcases back in here.”

  Momma Peach watched Michelle grab a suitcase and pop it open. “I wish we could have left our luggage at the house of a man who had not been murdered.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Michelle said and snatched a pair of black boots out of her suitcase. “Here we are,” she announced. “Momma Peach, take your sandals off and put these boots on.”

  Momma Peach glanced down at her small feet, wiggled her toes toward the sun, and shook her head. “My toes need air...but...considering the circumstances.”

  Michelle helped Momma Peach sit down on the bumper and waited for her to change shoes. “Momma Peach?”

  “Yes?” Momma Peach asked, leaning down over her belly.

  “The scorpions,” Michelle said and looked back at the store, “they...I suppose the scorpion that stung my boot could have found a way into the store...but it seems to me the scorpion was a warning toward Evan.”

  “I think the same thing,” Momma Peach grunted as she fought to slide on the right boot. “I think you're one size too small...”

  “That pair of boots is a little tight,” Michelle informed her. She bent down and began helping. “Push...push...that's it...a little more...there...we...go!” Momma Peach's small foot burst into the boot and found a little wiggle room. Michelle wiped sweat away from her forehead with her free hand, keeping a firm grip on her gun with her right hand, and then looked up at Momma Peach. “Next foot.”

  “Next foot,” Momma Peach groaned, kicked off her sandal, and prepared for a battle. “Here we go.”

  Michelle placed her left hand on the bottom of the boot and began to push as Momma Peach tugged on the sides. “Almost...almost...there!” she exclaimed as the boot slid into place.

  “Whew,” Momma Peach said, wiped sweat off her face, and looked down at the boots covering her feet. The boots immediately made her feet and ankles feel safer. “Thank you.”

  “You’re my Momma Peach and I'm not going to let anything happen to you,” Michelle promised in a firm tone. “I love you more than anything and I'm not going to lose you to a snake bite...a scorpion sting...nothing.”

  “Oh,” Momma Peach said and took Michelle's left hand, “I am going to survive and that's a fact. Yes sir and yes ma’am.” Momma Peach forced a tired smile to her face. “If those caves in Mr. Sam's town didn't kill me then this here creepy place sure won't.”

  Michelle looked around. “This place does kinda remind me of Sam's old town,” she told Momma Peach. “I bet Sam would love it here.”

  “Mr. Sam still wants to buy that winter lodge way up in Alaska,” Momma Peach sighed. “I do worry that someday he'll vanish into thin air.” Momma Peach stood up and tested the boots out. “Well, this ain't the time to go worrying about something a person can't change. We best go talk to Evan.”

  Michelle touched Momma Peach's hand. “I'll never leave you,” she promised.

  “I sure know that to be the truth,” Momma Peach said and smiled into Michelle's sweet eyes. “You're the sweetest baby a momma could ever hope to have.”

  “I'm also a very hot and angry baby,” Michelle pointed down at her boot. “I don't like being attacked by a scorpion...not on purpose, anyway.”

  Momma Peach began to reply when she saw Evan walk out of the garage with a worried look on his face. “Mr. Evan?”

  Evan walked up to the wooden trailer and placed his hands on the side. “This dune buggy won't make it far, but if I go slow, we should be able to make it,” he said, talking more to himself than to Momma Peach and Michelle. “I'm sure we can make it.” Evan looked up. “I can carry water with us and try to make it to the rental car that broke down with you. I'm sure this dune buggy can make it that far.”

  Momma Peach looked at Michelle. Michelle drew in a calm breath. “Evan...you better read this,” she said and handed Evan the threatening note. Evan took the note, read it, and then dropped his head like someone had hooked a thousand pounds of dry sand around his neck. “Evan?”

  “I knew it would be only a matter of time…but I thought Mitch Taylor would be the one to...” Evan shook his head, kicked at the ground with his boot, and grew silent.

  Momma Peach put her hand on Evan's shoulder. “We best try to get out of here. I was worried that the killer wouldn't let us get far but now that we've found that note it seems to me that we're being given a quick window of escape to slip through.”

  Michelle motioned at the vehicle with her chin. “I'm sure this dune buggy can make it to the rental car, Evan. We have to try. If we stick around here...we're sitting ducks and—”

  Before Michelle could finish Evan balled his right hand into a fist and struck the wooden wagon. “This is my place!” he yelled, finally allowing his anger to explode. He swung around and threw a hard finger at Michelle. “Mitch Taylor could have killed me but I didn't run from him. Yes, I was afraid of him,
but I didn't run like the others. And now...” Evan threw his eyes around at the four buildings that formed the miserable town that he loved more than the air he breathed. “My wife and I built this place...all of it. It's not the wood or the brick...it's...us,” Evan cried out in pain. “Do you know, we couldn't have children...we...all my wife wanted to do was be free of a world filled with cruelty!” Evan threw his eyes at Momma Peach. “I won't leave...I can't leave….my wife is...buried here. When she died, I had her cremated and spread her ashes right behind our store...” Tears began to fall from Evan's eyes. “I can’t go. I can’t leave her.”

  Momma Peach walked up to Evan, and without hesitating, pulled the upset man into her arms. “I’m right here. I ain't going to leave you. If you're staying then I’m staying right here with you, do you hear?”

  Evan didn't know what to do or say. So he did what his heart allowed him to do: he wrapped his arms around Momma Peach and let years of hurt, anger and pain flow from his eyes. “I promised my wife that I would die right here with her. I can't leave.”

  Michelle watched Momma Peach pull Evan's head down onto her shoulder and pet the man like he was a small boy needing a momma's love. “Don't you worry a bit. I ain't leaving, either.” Momma Peach looked at Michelle with worried eyes.

  Evan raised his head. “Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Someone has to alert the police. There’s a dead body, and Patty’s going to start to smell, or the animals will start to eat him…I can get the both of you back to your rental car and get you moving. Once you’re safely down the road I'll come back home,” he insisted. “Greenglow is the land that I will live on...it's where I belong. It might be where I die. But you don't belong here. You don’t deserve that same fate.”

  “We're not leaving you to be killed,” Michelle told Evan, feeling a strange love for the man. “Evan, you were warned to leave and if you don't, the killer will surely strike at you. Our best option is to make contact with the police. Surely you can come back after we do that. Just come with us and then we’ll come back and you can be with your wife’s memory for as long as you want. And without fear of death.”

 

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