A Peachy Plan

by Wendy Meadows

  Thelma wanted to tell Chief Duddles to go out into the storm and turn into a block of ice. Instead, she did as Momma Peach ordered. “Yeah, Chief, I have some house guests. This storm is going to be keeping them inside for a while, too. Why?”

  “Keep the outsiders at your home and don't let them leave.”

  “This is a free country,” Thelma replied in a slight argumentative tone, just enough to convince Chief Duddles he spoke with a woman who didn't know anything. “Last time I checked my house wasn't a prison and it wasn't against the law to show hospitality.”

  “If you want to keep living in Ridge Falls do as I say,” Chief Duddles growled. “No one leaves your home, is that clear?”

  Thelma looked at Momma Peach. “Chief, either you’re dumb or plain stupid,” she said. “In case you haven't forgotten, there's a storm raging outside. Nobody is going anywhere.”

  “Good,” Chief Duddles and said and ended the call without saying another word.

  Thelma hung up the phone. “Coffee?” she asked.

  Momma Peach folded her arms. “It’s going to be a very long night,” she said and walked back to the coffee pot with Thelma. “Yes, it's going to be a very long night indeed.”

  Chapter Six

  Michelle stood close to the front door sipping a cup of hot coffee, having returned from tucking Susan in upstairs, and listened to Thelma talk about the RMCA. Unfortunately, she was all too familiar with the group. “The pieces are starting to fall in place,” she said in a voice burdened heavily by her past.

  “Baby?” Momma Peach asked. She stood up from the couch and stretched her back. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

  Michelle grew quiet. She looked at Momma Peach, and then at Sam who rested in the armchair, rotated her eyes to the couch and caught Thelma, and then looked back at Momma Peach. “Thelma, your friend is onto the truth, believe it or not. The RMCA…it’s true they do weapons and recruiting. Well, the recruiting is not just for their own ranks. This is a terrorist organization that kidnaps innocent people and forces them into slavery if the ‘Recruitment’ brainwashing doesn’t work on them,” she finally said in a low growl. “Momma Peach, these people are well-funded and protected by laws that shield their criminal activities. We're talking about people from within different governments working together for one underhanded purpose: control.”

  Sam worked on the cup of coffee in his hand as he digested this. “Seems to me we're talking about a shadow government of some kind. If they’ve gotten away with this much, it’s as if they control enough legitimate power to influence large portions of actual laws set in place by the so-called world powers,” he said.

  “In a sense, yeah,” Michelle nodded and put a lock on her anger. “The guy who runs the RMCA is Taylor Seojun Whitesmith, an American businessman who is part Korean, with ties to the North Korean dictator regime. He goes by Taylor Whitesmith in order to keep his ties to the cruel RMCA hidden. I’ve come across him in investigations before, but only enough to know he’s determined, organized, and evil as they come.”

  “So what does this mean?” Sam asked. “Are we dealing with an enemy we can't beat or what?”

  “My pocketbook can take down any army in the world,” Momma Peach promised Sam and pointed at the staircase. “Ain't nobody, and I mean nobody, gonna take that sweet child from us.”

  “Sam,” Michelle said, “the last thing in the world the RMCA wants, or needs, is media attention on American soil. It seems to be, and I could be wrong, that Taylor Whitesmith is operating a covert operation right under the nose of the FBI. Susan stated that two ‘mean men’ wearing black were waiting at the airport when she arrived. The RMCA rarely operates outside of the boundaries of Asia, which tells me the two men at the airport are outsiders...hired thugs. I could be wrong, but then again, my gut is telling me I'm not.”

  “What you're saying,” Sam said, “is that the people in the RMCA let a very valuable scientist and a little girl with a classified formula slip through their fingers and now this Whitesmith fella is in damage control mode because he has to answer to people more powerful than he is.”

  “You are a very smart man,” Momma Peach told Sam and began walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. “Baby,” she told Michelle, “let's assume that these two fellas that were hired to snatch sweet little Susan haven't told their boss they've failed yet. Let's assume they are hiding the scientist Susan told us about somewhere in the storm until they can find the little girl and finish the job.”

  “Returning with the job only half done might be a bad idea,” Thelma said, supporting Momma Peach’s theory.

  Michelle sipped her coffee. “Could be,” she agreed. “I've considered that idea, Momma Peach, and it fits. We're dealing with two men desperate to find Susan. Maybe they've told Mr. Whitesmith that Susan has escaped or maybe they're using this storm to buy time. Who knows? But what I do know,” she said in a voice that attempted to sound positive, “is that we have Susan. Susan has the formula.” Michelle looked around the living room. “I'm not doubting that soon or later we're going to be paid a visit by the bad guys, but maybe not in the way we're all thinking.”

  Momma Peach stopped in front of the fireplace and let her eyes rest on the burning logs. Even though the living room filled with warmth she felt cold inside. Watching the logs burn offered some comfort, but not much. “Chief Duddles is going to try and play the bad cop,” she said without looking away from the fire. “Is that what you're meaning?”

  “Yes,” Michelle told Momma Peach. “Thelma, you said Chief Duddles asked you about our presence when he called you earlier,” she continued. Michelle sipped her coffee again. The coffee tasted delicious, like an old friend coming to offer a well-needed smile in a dark time. “Momma Peach, you know what I'm thinking?”

  Momma Peach nodded. “When the phone and internet goes down, I’ll know the bad guys have arrived,” she said. “I know Chief Duddles will arrive with some local men who he has deputized, men armed with guns who will try and arrest us all. Once that snake gets us behind bars, well then, the two men chasing our sweet little Susan won't have any problems getting past us and taking her.”

  “Ah, the gangster’s approach to avoid media attention,” Sam spoke in a disgusted voice.

  “But why would these men destroy Charlene Readings’ home if they wanted to remain in the shadows?” Thelma asked, confused. She did not like what her ears were hearing. The thought of local Ridge Falls men being transformed into a lynch mob soured her stomach.

  “Maybe the men chasing Susan expected to find her hiding in the house and when they didn't...maybe they searched the house for the formula and decided to destroy it when they came up empty-handed…just to make sure the formula didn't fall into the wrong hands if it was overlooked?” Sam suggested.

  “I agree with your theory,” Michelle told Sam.

  “I agree, too,” Momma Peach said and looked away from the fire and found Michelle. “We have to defend this house with everything we’ve got. This is the Alamo.”

  “Yes, Momma Peach, it is,” Michelle agreed.

  Sam stood up and walked over to the fireplace and warmed his hands. “The two skunks after Susan could disguise themselves as locals and force their way inside if you two are right. And my gut is telling me you two are spot on.”

  Michelle checked the lock on the front door. “Guys, we can't stay here much longer. We're sitting ducks.”

  Momma Peach knew Michelle spoke the truth. Now that the fog in her mind had been burned away by clear facts she glimpsed the horizon and did not like the looks of the dust cloud being kicked up by the oncoming horde of locusts. “Ms. Thelma, you know this land like the back of your hand. Where can we take Susan and hide her that's safe?”

  Thelma rotated her tired neck and then stood up. She walked over to the front window and looked out at the storm. “On a night like tonight when a storm is howling and the land is dark and white, it's very easy for a person to become lost and freeze
to death. I've seen it happen to a city kid who came to spend the winter with his grandmother...poor kid thought he was Daniel Boone and ended up getting himself lost and then froze to death.”

  “Thelma, we can—” Sam began to speak.

  Thelma held up her hand. “Sam, I don't doubt that you're a man who respects the land. But you hear that wind howling outside just as well as I do. The wind-chill factor alone right now will drain a man's body heat from him quicker than he can blink an eye. Just picture what that would do to poor little Susan…it would be impossible. The snow is getting deeper and the drifts are getting higher.” Thelma pointed at the window. “Walking through that storm will be like walking through quicksand. Why, you would be lucky to make half a mile before being forced to turn back.”

  Sam knew Thelma spoke the truth. But the idea of hunkering down in a house and waiting for a militia to arrive did not appeal to him. “That's a chance we're going to have to take.”

  “Not with Susan you're not,” Thelma objected. “That storm will chew her alive and you better realize that.”

  Momma Peach read Thelma's eyes. The woman held her ground, because she had a fierce need to save four lives from being swallowed up by a dark storm. “Ms. Thelma, what do you suggest?” she asked.

  “The old barn cellar,” Thelma said in a rational tone. “The barn has a hidden cellar in it that no one knows about. The original farmhouse built on this land stood where the barn stands now. Records show there was a fire. After the fire, a barn was built over the old house foundations and this house was built.” Thelma squeezed her hands together. The cold weather made her arthritis complain. “Hands usually start hurting around this time of night when the temperatures are below freezing,” she explained. She felt nervous too, however, and did not want her guests to see it.

  Momma Peach walked over to Thelma and began massaging her hands. “Ms. Thelma,” she said in a calm voice, “are you sure that there isn't a soul alive that knows about that hidden cellar out there in your barn?”

  Thelma nodded. “Momma Peach, when I bought this property it was nearly ready to be condemned. I spent many good years fixing up this house and the barn, day by day.” Thelma said, watching Momma Peach massage her hands. The love she felt rushing into her from Momma Peach's gentle touch made her feel like a child cradled up in her mother's lap. “I found the cellar by accident one evening when I swept out a dusty old horse stall in the barn and, well, being a curious person, I grabbed a flashlight and climbed down into the cellar. All I found were some old canning jars and cobwebs, though. I guess my imagination expected to find a hidden treasure chest full of gold.”

  “Ms. Thelma, you did find a hidden treasure chest,” Momma Peach promised and gave Thelma a tight hug and turned her attention to Michelle. “Go upstairs and wake Susan up and wrap her up as warm as you get possibly get her. Mr. Sam, go find all the extra blankets you can because it's going to be mighty cold down in that cellar. Ms. Thelma, we're going to need candles, flashlights, and food.”

  “Wait a minute,” Michelle pointed out. “Momma Peach, if Chief Duddles arrives and finds an empty house he'll most likely search the barn.”

  Thelma bit down on her lip. “Yeah, the cellar door is easy to spot. I never covered it back over. Once the hay is swept away, you can see the latch in the floorboards. I guess we could scatter hay on top, or a blanket.” Thelma looked at Momma Peach and made a decision. “I'll stay behind and tell Chief Duddles that you all...yeah, you all got spooked after he called and left.”

  “He won't believe you,” Sam protested, “not with the truck you loaned us parked outside.”

  “I'll just have to say you left on foot because you couldn't drive in the snow, Sam,” Thelma said in a voice filled with more doubt than confidence.

  Sam was not keen on the idea of stuffing himself down into a dusty, cold hole in the ground. He was a man that needed room to breathe and act. “Thelma, isn't there anywhere else?” he pleaded.

  “There's the old mine,” Thelma said, “but Sam, the mine is a ways northeast of here. At least a quarter-mile. You'd never make it in this storm. Even on a calm day it’s impossible to find it in the dark. I don't think I could even locate the mine in this storm, to be truthful.”

  The living room grew silent. Momma Peach looked back at the fire. Michelle focused on her hands. Sam let his eyes fall down onto the floor. Thelma studied the front window. They all knew they had no choice. After a few minutes, Michelle spoke quietly. “I'll go wake up Susan.”

  “I'll get the blankets,” Sam said.

  “I'll get the food and candles,” Thelma added.

  “And I will set a trap,” Momma Peach huffed and walked over to the couch and picked her pocketbook up off the floor. Everyone watched her sit down and pull out a small notepad and pen. “Thelma, make sure Chief Duddles sees the note I’m about to write, but in a way that will make the man believe he found it all on his own.”

  “Okay, Momma Peach,” Thelma promised and nudged Sam with her arm. “There's spare blankets upstairs in the hall closet.”

  “Got it,” Sam said and hurried upstairs with Michelle.

  Momma Peach waited until Sam and Michelle were out of hearing range before speaking. “Ms. Thelma,” she said, “Chief Duddles is being controlled by two very dangerous cobras. I don’t think these two men will give up their search based off your words.”

  “I know I'm probably going to be man-handled,” Thelma told Momma Peach. “This old gal can handle herself.”

  “I know that,” Momma Peach assured Thelma, “but this here note I’m writing will help you. Now, you just make sure Chief Duddles finds this note. When he does, I have a sneaking suspicion that he'll wander off back into the storm.”

  Thelma let her curiosity speak. “Momma Peach, just what kind of note are you going to write?”

  “You'll see,” Momma Peach replied with a sly grin. “Now, hurry, go get the candles and blanket. I’m feeling mighty anxious to get to that cellar, which must mean the snakes are sneaking out of their den and heading this way.”

  “Legs get moving,” Thelma said and ran for the kitchen.

  “That's good,” Momma Peach whispered and began working on her note. Five minutes later she stopped writing, stood up, and walked over to the fireplace and studied a line of pictures sitting on a wooden mantle. The pictures were of Thelma and husband in a time that seemed misty—the intangible happy past—and very lost. Each picture displayed other times in nice hand-carved picture frames. “This should be a good spot,” Momma Peach said and slid her note behind a picture of a very young Thelma hugging a handsome man in a snowy backyard.

  A few minutes later, Michelle walked downstairs, carrying Susan in her arms. Susan blinked sleepily, wrapped up like a little baby inside layers and layers of blankets. The little girl's eyes peeked out, scared and still full of sleep. “We're ready,” Michelle told Momma Peach.

  Momma Peach walked up to Susan and gently kissed her forehead. “Oh, my sweet girl, this night is going to pass. The snow is going to melt and the sun is going to shine, you just wait and see,” she promised and kissed Susan's forehead once again as Sam hurried downstairs carrying an arm full of blankets. Seconds later, Thelma rushed into the kitchen carrying a box full of emergency candles, water, and food. “Well, the gang is all here,” she said.

  “And the phone is out,” Thelma exclaimed in an urgent voice. “Get moving, now!”

  Momma Peach ran through the house and burst into the kitchen as fast as her short little legs would take her. She slid to a stop at the back door and yanked it open. “Hurry!”

  Michelle ran through the backdoor with Susan in her arms. Sam followed, holding the blankets and box of food and candles. Thelma ran up to Momma Peach. “Okay,” she said in an urgent voice, feeling like a bomb might explode at any second, “I told Sam where the trap door was. Before you go down into the cellar, grab some hay and throw it around the horse stall. Hide the cellar door the best you can. When the coast is cl
ear I'll come out to the barn and get you.”

  Momma Peach hugged Thelma and moved out into the storm. The winds changed into tiny sharp blades and began cutting into her face. “Oh my,” she cried throwing her arm and gloved hands over her eyes. “Mr. Sam, Michelle, wait up for me!”

  Sam quickly circled back and grabbed Momma Peach's arm with his left hand, juggling the supplies with his right arm and hand. He helped Momma Peach make her way through knee-deep snow, struggling against the howling winds, searching the darkness for the barn. “This way,” he yelled over the winds and aimed his body north. “We need to enter the barn through the back entrance!”

  Momma Peach nodded and watched Michelle struggling through the snow with Susan in her arms. She imagined them all lost in the woods, panicked, cold and scared; searching for light but only finding darkness. “If it's this hard walking to the barn I can't imagine trying to make it through the back country!”

  “Yeah, Thelma wasn't kidding when she said we wouldn't get far!” Sam yelled back. Then he froze. “Hey, look!” he shouted.

  Michelle heard Sam shout and spun around. She saw him pointing toward the road. “Headlights!” she yelled, spotting a set of faint glowing lights moving through the whirling snow. “Hurry!”

  “Let’s get moving!” Momma Peach screamed and began making one giant step after another, looking like a woman trying to step on rocks set too far apart from each other.

  Sam held onto Momma Peach and helped her to the back of the barn, keeping his eyes trained on the front road. The storm loomed dark—darker than anything he had ever seen in his life. The winds and blowing snow raged on, cruel and tormenting; the night nothing more than an iceberg dripping war over a small town. He knew that making it to the cellar was a matter of life and death. “Headlights are getting closer!”

  Michelle threw her gaze at the front road but kept making progress toward the barn, one difficult step after another. “You hear that?” she called out.