Rockfall

by William Allen

  The man was tall and rangy, and his pressed blue jeans and starched white shirt made me think he was a rodeo cowboy instead of a property manager. His companion wore a similar outfit, but a ballcap in place of the Stetson, and the woman was nearly as tall as the man, filling out her blue dress shirt and jeans more than adequately.

  The man smiled when he saw me and stuck out a hand, which I shook gratefully. The young lady, however, came at me with a determined step as she claimed a hug.

  “How’d everything go?” the man asked, and I had to shrug.

  “I just called the owner on speaker and stepped out before I punched the kid’s ticket. But where are my manners? Mark, Stacy, this is Nancy Prentiss. Nancy, this is Mark and Stacy Fussell. Two of my oldest friends in the area. Together, they own Pine Tree Management, which specializes in running multi-family properties.”

  Again, quick pleasantries were exchanged, and before I could get away, Mark thanked me for getting them this contract.

  “Hey, you can pay me back by getting Ms. Prentiss’s deposit refunded,” I replied playfully. “I swear, she put down butcher paper on the floor so we didn’t mess up the wax job while we loaded their boxes. Who thinks of things like that?”

  Just as we were parting, Marky came storming out of the door, his face an unhealthy shade of scarlet. He pointed an accusatory finger at my face, and again, I took a step back to gain space. This time, though, I let my right hand drop back and I closed my fingers around the butt of the small pistol.

  “You got my momma fired! Now you’re gonna pay for that!”

  “Marky, last warning,” I retorted loudly. “Stand down and step back.”

  “Fuck you…!”

  My hand came free with the pistol rising just as Mark Fussell stuck out a booted foot, and the lumbering sack of meat took a painful-looking tumble on the rain-slicked concrete. The barrel of the short pistol nearly clipped Marky’s nose when he rapidly descended, and the frightful squall let me know he’d indeed managed to injure himself.

  “Thanks, Mark. I’d advise you to write this up as an attempted assault on a guest,” I told Mark as we gathered in a circle, watching the obese young male wallow around on the ground. Other than his pride, though, the only injuries visible were the abrasions on his hands and knees.

  Kneeling down next to the soaking-wet Marky, I screwed the barrel of the little Ruger right into the whining ass monkey’s ear, earning another squeal. He cried out, and I released the pressure just enough to lean over, my lips close to his abused ear.

  “You and your momma need to leave town,” I whispered softly. “If I see you after today, I’m going presume you mean to do me or my family injury. Then I will remove you, permanently. Do you understand?”

  Marky mumbled something, so I returned the barrel of my pistol until I was sure I was digging into his tympanic membrane.

  “I said, do you understand me? Say it out loud, or I’ll turn your head into a fucking canoe, right now!” I snapped, easing the slack up in the trigger as I spoke. I really, really wanted him to make a smart-ass remark.

  “I…I understand, I understand! We were just messing around, mister,” he blubbered, and I could see the snot hanging in ragged strings from his wide nostrils as I shied back in terror.

  “Good,” I said at my regular volume. “I’m glad we had this talk. Now get the fuck out of my sight before I end you.”

  Marky nearly fell again as he surged up and away, dragging his saggy pants up to half mast before he scurried off in the direction of his family’s apartment. He looked back once, caught my glaring stare, and barely avoided taking another fall as the pace of his footsteps increased.

  Turning to a wide-eyed Nancy and a grinning Mark and Stacy, I finally spoke up after nearly a minute of silence. “Sorry about that. He’s probably going to be a problem in the future. Nancy, are you ready to go?”

  “Uh, yeah. Let’s go,” she stammered, then to the Fussells, she gave a polite ‘nice to meet you’ before heading over to my truck to retrieve her daughter.

  “Damn, son,” Mark murmured. “Don’t you think you were a little hard on him?”

  “No. He has a little posse that hangs out with him. They manhandled Nancy and her twelve-year-old daughter last Thursday. She’s a pretty little girl, too. You can imagine what they planned to do if a neighbor hadn’t intervened and called the cops.”

  Stacy narrowed her eyes at my comment and smacked her husband in the belly with the back of her hand.

  “You got room in the back of that truck? We can still get his body in, if you drop the tailgate,” she said seriously, and I didn’t doubt her intent. I’d known Stacy back when we were in high school together over in Jasper, and she’d never been one to tolerate bullshit.

  I’d bumped into the couple about two years ago, when Mark and Stacy came into my office with questions about incorporating their already existing business. We’d recognized each other pretty quick, even though we hadn’t been close friends in school. I’d learned that Stacy had married Mark about fifteen years ago and she’d moved over to New Albany to help run the business. In addition to the apartment management work, they also owned half a dozen rental houses. Stacy had a degree in accounting, and after a week onsite, they would have the Stafford Arms audited and staffed with a screened manager who would run things according to their strict standards.

  “Don’t think I wasn’t considering it, but no room back there,” I replied sincerely. “Just keep an eye out for Marky’s little goon squad and go drag that momma of his out of the office before she starts stealing office supplies. And get some air fresheners in there. If the office stinks that bad, I shudder to think about their apartment.”

  “Gotcha, and thanks for the recommendation. We can use the business.”

  “Times getting a little dicey?” I asked, curious.

  “With the cost of food going up the way it is and the local businesses cutting back, we’ve got two of our rentals vacant, and another family just gave notice. And one of the families that left, trashed the house before they disappeared. Going to take me at least eight thousand bucks to get it all fixed, and my insurance company isn’t returning calls,” Mark explained.

  While Stacy did the books and kept on top of the filings and supervising the managers, Mark handled the repair and maintenance work. As a licensed electrician, he knew enough to do just about any job, but he didn’t do any general contracting work since he already had enough on his plate.

  “Two pieces of advice, Mark. Well, three. First, don’t expect your insurance to ever pay off. What happened in California, well, all that mess has effectively bankrupted all the insurance companies. Second, even with the rising prices and the rationing, see if you and Stacy can set back as much food as you can. This fall’s harvest is likely to be affected by the bad weather.”

  I turned to go, but Stacy stopped me when she called my name.

  “Bryan, what was the third piece of advice you had for Mark?”

  “Don’t ever let your husband call himself Marky. It’s just plain wrong for anyone over the age of nine.”

  I left my two friends laughing in the increasing downpour as I headed for my truck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I expected Nancy to have retrieved her daughter from my truck before heading over to her car, but instead she’d just let Lisa pop the door open and stuck her head inside. I couldn’t hear the conversation but as I stepped closer, Nancy just gave me a friendly wave when I called her name and continued on to where she had her hatchback parked. Oh, well, she would be following me anyway, and the drive should only take fifteen minutes or so. The farm was only ten miles from town. I could deal with one tween girl for that length of time. In fact, I’d learned a lot from listening to my nieces over the years. From my nephews, not so much.

  After exchanging the obligatory ‘hi’ with Lisa, I tried to forget she was in the back seat as I eased out of the apartment complex parking lot and headed for the road out of town. For the next
few minutes, I listened to the news radio station out of Beaumont while the announcer talked about recovery efforts along the coastline as the inundated communities were still getting power restored in some communities where the flood waters washed away transmission systems and relay stations. Not as bad as a hurricane, but the temporary average six-foot rise in sea levels had washed away a lot of vacation homes and, of course, once again flooded New Orleans, but sea rise lacked the tornados and intense storm cells.

  “Do you always listen to the news?”

  The question caught me slightly off-guard. My thoughts had been circling back to the escalating confrontation back at the apartment office, as I came to grips with my threats to the thoroughly loathsome Marky Slocumb. I’d never really considered myself a violent person, and even the shootout behind my office had been more a case of reacting to the events instead of instigating anything. This, however, had been a cat of another stripe entirely.

  “No, not always. Do you want me to see if I can find some music instead?”

  “That’s okay. I was just wondering. Momma always listens to the news, too. Even before the earthquakes and this crazy weather.”

  As I had noticed before, Lisa was very well-spoken for her age. She didn’t rely on the slang of her peers, and she seemed to weigh her words carefully before expressing herself.

  “So what kind of music do you usually listen to? I think my brother has some CDs in here that my niece likes, but I have to admit, I don’t recognize any of the names anymore.”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine,” Lisa replied, her voice going shy. “I like some of the newer Country singers, but usually I just listen to whatever’s on the radio.”

  I sensed Lisa had more to say, but I let her be as I focused on the road. More than a few low-lying sections of the highway showed signs of erosion from the near-constant rain, and I wondered if Mike and I needed to get with Wade to start an ark. I’d only made that joke to Mike once, but he suggested I just keep it to myself. Folks were getting awful tense about the weather, and the federal government remained tight-lipped. In fact, if you studied the news closely, you could already see the cracks forming, at least here in Texas. The governor continued to make public appearances, and he seemed to chafe under the restrictions placed on him by Big Brother.

  The funniest part about the whole ‘ark’ thing? I wasn’t joking.

  “Thank you for coming to get us, Mr. Hardin. And for letting us stay with you, too.”

  Her words were so soft, I could barely make out what Lisa said over the sounds of the windshield wipers and the drone of the tires on the asphalt. Mike’s truck was well-insulated against road noise, but it was still a truck driving over slightly-challenging terrain.

  “You’re welcome, Lisa. We’re glad to have you and your mom come stay with us. Seemed like the neighborly thing to do, what with all that extra space just sitting open. Like I told your mom, we can use the help at the farm too.”

  “I help Aunt Dorothy sometimes, but I don’t know how to do everything. I liked working in your garden, though.” Lisa volunteered that last tidbit like it was a secret.

  “That’s great,” I encouraged, trying to get the young girl to feel more relaxed. I knew she was facing some fear at a new environment, but then I realized she hadn’t even met any of my nieces and nephews, so she would be around even more strangers. Strangers who were close to her in age, so it wasn’t like she could just ignore them.

  “Do you think I can still go to my classes, now that we’ve moved out here?” Lisa asked, and she had me stumped.

  “What classes? I thought you were out for summer,” I replied lamely.

  “Oh, sure, school is out, but I’m taking music lessons this summer and also a swimming class at the Y,” Lisa replied casually. “With mom working during the day, she’s gotten into the habit of signing me up for different things in the times I’m off from regular school. I’ve been doing it as long as I can remember.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty cool,” I agreed. Probably cheaper than day care or hiring a babysitter, and Lisa was learning something, too. “How did you manage to get to and from your classes with your mom working?”

  “When we lived in Tyler, it was easier. Mom could pick me up and drop me off, scheduled around her breaks at work. Since we moved here, she would make arrangements with the moms of some of the other girls in my classes.”

  “Dang, that’s pretty smart. What music class are you taking now?”

  “I’m in beginner guitar and I’m taking intermediate piano, too. I was taking computer courses before, but it was just some basic programming classes. Oh, and French class, but they don’t have anyone teaching that here.”

  “That’s impressive,” I said. “Maybe you can help me out on my computers. You ever do any network applications? I’ve got several different computers at the house, and I wish I could get something set up to have them talking to each other easier.”

  “Oh, sure,” Lisa agreed. “I’d be glad to help.” After her initial enthusiasm, she continued more cautiously. “You don’t think I’m a geek, do you?”

  “No, not at all. I think you’ll fit right in with the other young people at the farm. In fact, I know Rachel has taken piano lessons in the past, and Tommy was taking violin lessons, but just between you and me,” I added conspiratorially, “I don’t think my nephew has an ear for music.”

  Lisa giggled at the revelation but I didn’t think it was offensive to Tommy, since he was not exactly hiding his disgruntled attitude with the violin. Maybe it had just been the instructor, though.

  “That’s good. I’m looking forward to meeting everyone,” Lisa said, but I thought I detected a little apprehension in her voice.

  “Then I think we can make arrangements for you to continue going to your classes. Maybe even get some of our kids signed up as well.”

  “That would be nice. I know Mrs. Tarleton would be happy. She teaches the guitar class and there’s only four of us in that class now. Two of the other kids stopped coming in the last few weeks.”

  Probably due to their family’s financial situations, I thought sourly. The economy continued to creak along, but still, the cracks were beginning to become more obvious.

  “Maybe that would be a good idea to see if Nikki and Marta want to send some of their kids off to take these classes. I’ll bet Rachel would love to take a guitar class.”

  “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  If not for my own parenting experience, the question might have caught me off-guard. Still, I didn’t know that much about little girls. Charlie had been so simple that way…

  “Ah, are you okay, Mr. Hardin?”

  With Lisa’s question, I realized I’d stopped talking for a little bit while I was lost in my own thoughts.

  “I’m sure of it, Lisa. They’re all good kids,” I encouraged. “And your cousins are just a little bit down the road. I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m glad your mother called me anyway.”

  “Me, too,” Lisa admitted. “I was getting scared of Marky and his friends. They’re not nice people, and they scared me.”

  “He and his posse shouldn’t make any more trouble for your family,” I reminded Lisa, and she laughed. The sound reminded me of bells.

  “I think you’re right. You scared him pretty bad. Momma told me what you said.”

  Lisa paused, and I could tell she had more to say. Another question to ask.

  “Would you have done it? Would you have shot him?”

  “No, not right there,” I replied, deciding she deserved to know the truth. “I don’t think I could shoot somebody in cold blood, not when he’s on his knees like that. But…I’ll tell you, after what your mom told me about how he treated you the other day, I came pretty darned close. And I’ll do anything to protect my family these days, and if you’re living at the farm, you fall under that umbrella.”

  Lisa gave a little sigh that I couldn’t interpret, and about that time I needed to pay more attention to the road
. The little creek that ran alongside the turn-off for County Road 1109 was out of its banks, and several inches of water formed a sheet across the patched asphalt. A quick glance at the exposed end of the culvert revealed a mass of trash and limbs jammed across the entry running under the road, and no county road crew would be along to fix that blockage for quite some time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The newsreader that night spent a full segment describing the humanitarian crises at the refugee camps when bandits stole supplies intended for their care, and at first I was surprised the censors let this story out. Then the other shoe dropped, and I realized the president and his press corps had something else planned when the second story unspooled. This one dealt with the lawless conditions prevailing in the southern border regions, and the reporting focused on heavily-armed incursions being mounted from certain Mexican military bases and aimed at what the newsman referred to as ‘terror targets’ on American soil.

  “I got a bad feeling about this,” Mike muttered under his breath.

  “What are you thinking? A distraction of some sort?”

  “Well, if what they’re saying is true, then our government will be quick to stomp on them. Even with everything else we’ve got going on, those kinds of atrocities cannot be tolerated.”

  The atrocities Mike referred to certainly qualified as such. Where the news hounds might have been restrained from giving us the straight scoop on internal matters in this country, their censors relaxed the restraints on what they could show. We saw the piles of corpses stacked up in the parking lot of the local grocery store in Bisbee, Arizona and the burned bodies pulled from the clinic just up the road in Sierra Vista. I felt sick to my stomach at the signs of wanton destruction, and everywhere the cameras pointed, you could make out the slogans.