The Coming Storm
Mitch stays on the radio for a minute or two, giving us an inventory of what she can see approaching. They are pretty far off, but she can make out four vehicles, one of them a large truck with a backhoe on a trailer.
"They mean to do some serious digging." I say in response to Mitch's report.
"Wouldn't you? It's over a million dollars. Worth the cost of the diesel and the time it is going to take them to find it." Lou talks while he shovels, tossing the damp earth in the pile.
I finish my calculation on the last big money hole and prepare to step it off on my own.
"You want the radio, or should I keep it with me?
Lou snatches it off the ground, "She doesn't want to talk to you, Nancy, when I am here to talk to."
"You're delusional."
"Nope... Scottish and French."
I pause, then shake my head slowly.
"Jesus, you are fucked up. I bet you have a bumper sticker that says `Will Surrender for Haggis', don't you."
He looks at me, "I'll bumper sticker your ass." He tosses the shovel and starts like he's going to climb out of the hole.
"Wouldn't that be Greek and French?"
"Go find the next damn hole fuckstick." He lunges at me and I jump back appropriately.
We both turn back to the task at hand.
I leave the radio with Lou and take the tape with me, pegging my starting point and running the tape out for the correct length. After three lengths I make sure I am lined up with the markers and scratch an "X" in the earth at my feet. This is the last big deposit. The other holes we may have to leave for them.
I hear the Gator start and see Lou coming toward me. It takes him thirty seconds or so and he pulls up beside me, looking down at my feet at the mark on the ground.
"X marks the spot?"
"Yep. How much time do we have?"
"Mitch just radioed back that she thinks we have about twenty minutes before they pass below her, and then maybe five to the ranch."
He looks at the mark on the ground and then hands me the other shovel. "How deep?"
"Shit... I forgot to do that part of the calculation." I pull the map from my pocket and decode the depth. I look at Lou with disbelief."
"Well?"
"Six feet?"
I hand him the map and he takes it for a moment, then hands it back.
"Double check it."
I do, but come up with the same figure.
"Mother fucker. Who buries something six feet down?"
"Just start digging, we don't have time."
Soil flies out of that hole like black rain. We alternate so there isn't a time where dirt isn't falling. Never the less, it takes forever to get down to the deposit. We are well beyond twenty minutes when my shovel bites into something.
"I think... " I scrape across the dark soil and reveal the black plastic, "I've got it."
Lou chips away around the package until we have the top uncovered.
"We have to open this one and just take the money out. We'll never get it all uncovered before they get here."
He motions up to the Gator, "Get up there and grab the duffle closest to the seat, that's the one that has the most room."
I lift myself out of the hole and grab the duffle. "You want it down there?"
"No, I will hand the money up."
We start transferring the money from the hole to the bag. There is a lot of it, and after ten minutes Lou is still handing money up to me. If you were to stack this much cash on your standard TV table, you wouldn't find a spot to put a salt shaker... and you would have to stand to see the person across from you. The last thing he hands me is a newspaper wrapped in clear plastic and taped up real good.
"What is the paper for?" I look at the date, Sept. 9th, 1986.
"I am sure it's your cousin's play on a time capsule. There is one at the bottom of every hole."
There is barely enough room in the second duffle for all of this cash. The other bag is stuffed full as well.
"We are going to need more bags."
The radio keys up, but nothing is said
I grab the radio off of the seat of the Gator, "Mitch?"
Nothing.
"Mitch? We have the last of the big deposits. How much time do we have?"
"Not enough, I'm afraid."
The voice was decidedly not Mitch's.
"I'm afraid Mitch is tied up right now... she can't come to the phone."
Lou is out of the hole and grabs the radio before I can take in a breath to issue a threat.
"Listen here, Grable... is it? You need to consider your options real careful like. If you hurt that woman, I will make your last thirty minutes on this planet the most painful and amazing you have ever known." Lou pauses for effect.
"Louis?"
Now Grable pauses for effect. Lou doesn't answer him.
"You listen to me. You will give me what you have found. And since you are doing such a fine job decoding this... map, I am going to let you dig up the other holes as well."
There is a long pause as Grable most likely calculates the time it will take.
"Oh hell... I'm in no hurry. Just know this; I have the other map, I have Mitch and her ranch hands, and I have you under surveillance."
Lou looks at me, a steely reverence in his eyes. I know enough by now that there is a plan of some sort brewing in there.
"What?" I ask him
He holds up a hand... then keys up the radio.
"We need to take go back to the barn and get a couple more duffles."
"Do what you must." Grable pauses... "Where are my men?"
Lou smiles, "Taking a little dirt nap. Don't worry, you will be with them shortly."
"Pity." The radio goes silent.
A moment later, the first of three gunshots come from the east. Our heads whip around and we can see Mitch's blue truck in the distance. Falling from the roof is one of the ranch hands. The next is dragged up and shot, most likely in the head. It is too far to see the details. When the last man is hauled up and shot, Grable comes back on the radio.
"Well, that evens the score." You can hear Mitch in the background cussing up a storm.
"Jesus... this guy means business."
"Well no shit. So do we." Lou motions me toward the Gator and we both hop on and head toward the growing barn. "At least we know where they are."
We motor back toward the barn, Mitch's captors at our backs. I have the urge to turn around, but I don't. We'll get our chance on the way back.
At the barn, we hear a hail from the radio. It is Grable... he is watching us. We are to leave the bags on the Gator.
"Son of a bitch." Lou mutters a we head into the barn. Not that taking the bags off the Gator was his plan, but I am sure that it might have been part of it.
"You gonna let me in on this plan?"
"Don't have one."
I pause... for effect. "You don't have one? Since when?"
"Look, they'll kill her just like they killed that foreman and the two ranch hands."
"Hell, Lou... they will kill all of us most likely. Why would he leave any witnesses to his murder of those men?"
"Quid Pro Quo."
"Yeah, okay... "
"We killed his men so he killed ours."
"And that helps us how?"
"Could be that he isn't worried about us telling anyone because he would have the same opportunity. You know, to tell authorities about us killing his men."
My hands rest on my hips and I hear myself sigh.
"Jesus, Lou, snap out of it."
He looks at me.
"What the fuck is wrong with you. This guy is more likely to shove a dozen cupcakes up his ass before he talks to any "authorities"... you know that."
Lou turns toward the cabinet where Mitch grabbed the duffles.
"Lou... "
"Yeah, I know. He is a fucking killer and we are all dead."
"Now you're talking. So let's get a plan together."
If they can see the barn, then they can see the ranch house. So heading back there to hunt down some more weapons or ammo isn't going to happen. We figure they haven't killed us yet because they want the hard work out of the way first. But it is coming.
Lou has a plan. He doesn't tell me, but when he starts shaking kerosene cans and grabbing twine, I know that something is afoot. I stay out of his way. He grabs several of the canvas duffles, pulls a couple inside out and fluffs them up a little, then has me hold my arms out straight. He piles the unfolded pile of duffle bags across my arms and then tucks a one gallon metal kerosene can on its side on each of my hands. They have to be at least half full.
"Hey... this is heavy."
"Pussy." He turns me and pushes me toward the door. I look back as he tucks another of the cans under his pile of duffle bags.
We set our load on the Gator and hop in the seats.
"What took you so long?" Grable seems quite impatient.
"I had to hunt for more of these bags. It is going to take more than we thought. That should make you happy."
"Get moving."
As we ride back out to the field, I can feel the butt of the Mauser banging into my lower back.
Lou senses my discomfort.
"Leave it. For whatever reason Grable hasn't seen it. When we get to the next hole, let me get off first. I will cover the rifle with a duffle."
The ride is short, but just long enough for Lou to let me in on his plan. It has to do with deception, with fire, and with choices. If push comes to shove, Mitch's life is worth more than a million dollars to us. We can cover that bet. But we aren't going to have to make that decision if we don't have to. First it will be Grable's turn. Lou has devised a way to put the shoe on the other foot. We have a hostage too, over a million dollars.
"They mean to do some serious digging." I say in response to Mitch's report.
"Wouldn't you? It's over a million dollars. Worth the cost of the diesel and the time it is going to take them to find it." Lou talks while he shovels, tossing the damp earth in the pile.
I finish my calculation on the last big money hole and prepare to step it off on my own.
"You want the radio, or should I keep it with me?
Lou snatches it off the ground, "She doesn't want to talk to you, Nancy, when I am here to talk to."
"You're delusional."
"Nope... Scottish and French."
I pause, then shake my head slowly.
"Jesus, you are fucked up. I bet you have a bumper sticker that says `Will Surrender for Haggis', don't you."
He looks at me, "I'll bumper sticker your ass." He tosses the shovel and starts like he's going to climb out of the hole.
"Wouldn't that be Greek and French?"
"Go find the next damn hole fuckstick." He lunges at me and I jump back appropriately.
We both turn back to the task at hand.
I leave the radio with Lou and take the tape with me, pegging my starting point and running the tape out for the correct length. After three lengths I make sure I am lined up with the markers and scratch an "X" in the earth at my feet. This is the last big deposit. The other holes we may have to leave for them.
I hear the Gator start and see Lou coming toward me. It takes him thirty seconds or so and he pulls up beside me, looking down at my feet at the mark on the ground.
"X marks the spot?"
"Yep. How much time do we have?"
"Mitch just radioed back that she thinks we have about twenty minutes before they pass below her, and then maybe five to the ranch."
He looks at the mark on the ground and then hands me the other shovel. "How deep?"
"Shit... I forgot to do that part of the calculation." I pull the map from my pocket and decode the depth. I look at Lou with disbelief."
"Well?"
"Six feet?"
I hand him the map and he takes it for a moment, then hands it back.
"Double check it."
I do, but come up with the same figure.
"Mother fucker. Who buries something six feet down?"
"Just start digging, we don't have time."
Soil flies out of that hole like black rain. We alternate so there isn't a time where dirt isn't falling. Never the less, it takes forever to get down to the deposit. We are well beyond twenty minutes when my shovel bites into something.
"I think... " I scrape across the dark soil and reveal the black plastic, "I've got it."
Lou chips away around the package until we have the top uncovered.
"We have to open this one and just take the money out. We'll never get it all uncovered before they get here."
He motions up to the Gator, "Get up there and grab the duffle closest to the seat, that's the one that has the most room."
I lift myself out of the hole and grab the duffle. "You want it down there?"
"No, I will hand the money up."
We start transferring the money from the hole to the bag. There is a lot of it, and after ten minutes Lou is still handing money up to me. If you were to stack this much cash on your standard TV table, you wouldn't find a spot to put a salt shaker... and you would have to stand to see the person across from you. The last thing he hands me is a newspaper wrapped in clear plastic and taped up real good.
"What is the paper for?" I look at the date, Sept. 9th, 1986.
"I am sure it's your cousin's play on a time capsule. There is one at the bottom of every hole."
There is barely enough room in the second duffle for all of this cash. The other bag is stuffed full as well.
"We are going to need more bags."
The radio keys up, but nothing is said
I grab the radio off of the seat of the Gator, "Mitch?"
Nothing.
"Mitch? We have the last of the big deposits. How much time do we have?"
"Not enough, I'm afraid."
The voice was decidedly not Mitch's.
"I'm afraid Mitch is tied up right now... she can't come to the phone."
Lou is out of the hole and grabs the radio before I can take in a breath to issue a threat.
"Listen here, Grable... is it? You need to consider your options real careful like. If you hurt that woman, I will make your last thirty minutes on this planet the most painful and amazing you have ever known." Lou pauses for effect.
"Louis?"
Now Grable pauses for effect. Lou doesn't answer him.
"You listen to me. You will give me what you have found. And since you are doing such a fine job decoding this... map, I am going to let you dig up the other holes as well."
There is a long pause as Grable most likely calculates the time it will take.
"Oh hell... I'm in no hurry. Just know this; I have the other map, I have Mitch and her ranch hands, and I have you under surveillance."
Lou looks at me, a steely reverence in his eyes. I know enough by now that there is a plan of some sort brewing in there.
"What?" I ask him
He holds up a hand... then keys up the radio.
"We need to take go back to the barn and get a couple more duffles."
"Do what you must." Grable pauses... "Where are my men?"
Lou smiles, "Taking a little dirt nap. Don't worry, you will be with them shortly."
"Pity." The radio goes silent.
A moment later, the first of three gunshots come from the east. Our heads whip around and we can see Mitch's blue truck in the distance. Falling from the roof is one of the ranch hands. The next is dragged up and shot, most likely in the head. It is too far to see the details. When the last man is hauled up and shot, Grable comes back on the radio.
"Well, that evens the score." You can hear Mitch in the background cussing up a storm.
"Jesus... this guy means business."
"Well no shit. So do we." Lou motions me toward the Gator and we both hop on and head toward the growing barn. "At least we know where they are."
We motor back toward the barn, Mitch's captors at our backs. I have the urge to turn around, but I don't. We'll get our chance on the way back.
At the barn, we hear a hail from the radio. It is Grable... he is watching us. We are to leave the bags on the Gator.
"Son of a bitch." Lou mutters a we head into the barn. Not that taking the bags off the Gator was his plan, but I am sure that it might have been part of it.
"You gonna let me in on this plan?"
"Don't have one."
I pause... for effect. "You don't have one? Since when?"
"Look, they'll kill her just like they killed that foreman and the two ranch hands."
"Hell, Lou... they will kill all of us most likely. Why would he leave any witnesses to his murder of those men?"
"Quid Pro Quo."
"Yeah, okay... "
"We killed his men so he killed ours."
"And that helps us how?"
"Could be that he isn't worried about us telling anyone because he would have the same opportunity. You know, to tell authorities about us killing his men."
My hands rest on my hips and I hear myself sigh.
"Jesus, Lou, snap out of it."
He looks at me.
"What the fuck is wrong with you. This guy is more likely to shove a dozen cupcakes up his ass before he talks to any "authorities"... you know that."
Lou turns toward the cabinet where Mitch grabbed the duffles.
"Lou... "
"Yeah, I know. He is a fucking killer and we are all dead."
"Now you're talking. So let's get a plan together."
If they can see the barn, then they can see the ranch house. So heading back there to hunt down some more weapons or ammo isn't going to happen. We figure they haven't killed us yet because they want the hard work out of the way first. But it is coming.
Lou has a plan. He doesn't tell me, but when he starts shaking kerosene cans and grabbing twine, I know that something is afoot. I stay out of his way. He grabs several of the canvas duffles, pulls a couple inside out and fluffs them up a little, then has me hold my arms out straight. He piles the unfolded pile of duffle bags across my arms and then tucks a one gallon metal kerosene can on its side on each of my hands. They have to be at least half full.
"Hey... this is heavy."
"Pussy." He turns me and pushes me toward the door. I look back as he tucks another of the cans under his pile of duffle bags.
We set our load on the Gator and hop in the seats.
"What took you so long?" Grable seems quite impatient.
"I had to hunt for more of these bags. It is going to take more than we thought. That should make you happy."
"Get moving."
As we ride back out to the field, I can feel the butt of the Mauser banging into my lower back.
Lou senses my discomfort.
"Leave it. For whatever reason Grable hasn't seen it. When we get to the next hole, let me get off first. I will cover the rifle with a duffle."
The ride is short, but just long enough for Lou to let me in on his plan. It has to do with deception, with fire, and with choices. If push comes to shove, Mitch's life is worth more than a million dollars to us. We can cover that bet. But we aren't going to have to make that decision if we don't have to. First it will be Grable's turn. Lou has devised a way to put the shoe on the other foot. We have a hostage too, over a million dollars.
posted by Jake Allen at 12:59 PM
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