Chapter 50

As the clouds dissolved, the full moon that had been hiding all night broke through and shined brightly. Thanks to the moon and the interior lights, I could make out the man’s face, but did not recognize him.

As Squiggy and Mule argued about the best way to gut a deer, I walked toward the truck. It was a truck I could never afford or want. This bad boy cost more than I made in a year. The walk across the two-lane road never seemed to take too long.

I was scared of this man. I’m not afraid to admit it. Something told me that the next few minutes would play a large part in the future of one Michael Hunt.

The little boy was still screaming and hollering. He was convinced the two mean men were going to eat Bambi. The mother tried to tell him otherwise. That was a lie, of course. Everybody knew it, even the little boy. At least it would keep them from poaching a deer tonight.

Perhaps the little boy would rather the deer stay in the ditch and be food for the coyotes and crow. I know how much I enjoy driving down the road and seeing a crow pull a chunk of meat off something dead.

The man was looking at me. I could see his eyes glaring at me through little slits. He was wearing a cowboy hat that looked like it had never been sweated in. This was also not a cheap one, like the one Chili Dog wore. I saw that he had a thin beard, also grey, the kind that always struck me as more trouble than it was worth.

His nose jutted out and had a bump on the top, almost between his eyes. The man’s mouth was smaller than it should be. As I approached the truck, his eyes glared a hole through my presence. Through the years, I have met people who had done some bad things, but they didn’t scare me like this man did.

I finally arrived at his truck and placed my hands on the door. His shirt was white, pressed so hard that no wrinkles would dare show up. He had on a pair of jeans that were professionally pressed, also. The interior of the truck had all the bells and whistles. I saw a CB radio, cell phone that was hooked up to a holder and a little box up near the roof that showed the temperature and direction the vehicle was headed.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“A lot better than it is for you,” he answered. His voice had a hard edge to it. It looked like he had never smiled.

“What do you want?”

“Get in.”

I didn’t think that was a very good idea. I turned around to see if Squiggy and Mule were paying attention, but they were focused in on the little deer.

“Go ahead,” he added.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said.

“I think it would be the best move you’ve made in a long time, a lot smarter than coming back here.”

“Before I get in, what’s your name?”

“My name’s not important.”

“Then getting in your truck isn’t all that important.”

The man glared at me. I averted his eyes. He could really intimidate a person staring at them.

“Do you think staying alive is important?” he asked. I nodded. That was a stupid question. It sure beat the alternative. “Then get in.”

“How do I know you aren’t going to hurt me?” Okay, that made me sound like a wuss. I know it and was positive he knew that. But I didn’t care. I needed some kind of assurance before I got in his truck.

“If I wanted you hurt, you’d already be hurt.”

That sounded like a true statement to me. I walked around his truck and paused before opening the door, wondering if this might be one of those things that you did and later regretted. That’s assuming, of course, that I had the chance to regret it later.

I looked over at Squiggy and Mule. They both had their pocketknives out and were comparing them to each other. I actually missed them. Yes, that’s sad. I know it. He leaned over and opened the door.

“Get in!” he commanded. “We don’t have all day.”

I climbed into the truck. The truck had the new smell to it they always have for the first few months. It was practically freezing inside and I shuddered. He had a country station playing lightly on his radio. He rolled his window up and turned the air conditioning down.

“Little nippy, eh?” he asked.

I nodded, wondering where this was going. The man was average sized. But just the way he looked at a person told them that he was not a person to be messed with. In the wildlife, a rattlesnake wiggles its tail to try and scare off enemies. This man could use his eyes.

“Why are you shooting at me?” I asked.

The man turned to look down the road. Only a few cars were coming and going. He seemed to consider the question way too long.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” he said.

I wasn’t aware I had barked. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t shoot at you, cut your tires or take the boy,” he said.

“Who did?”

He held up his hand. I could see the hardness of the hand along with the calluses. The man might drive a fancy truck now, but he was a hard man.

“A bunch of guys you need to watch out for. They don’t mess around.”

“What did I do to make them mad?”

He considered the question again for several seconds before responding. “You didn’t start it, your father did.”

“Start what?”

“They don’t like publicity. Your dad started checking out some things. They sent little messages to him to look the other way, but he wouldn’t.”

“What was he checking into?”

“These people are doing some bad things. There’s some stuff you can find if you dig deep enough. A lot of the stuff is buried and hidden so deep that you don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do want to know.”

“Take my word for it, you need to let sleeping dogs lay. You need to just do what you came down here to take care of. Be a good little reporter and write about the boring stuff, the football games and the social crap. Sell the paper, save your mother’s house, then go back to Tulsa.”

“You know a lot.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“So, you aren’t with them?”

“I wouldn’t be here with you if I was.”

This was getting too crazy. I had my own deepthroat! Not in a sexual way, but in a Watergate kind of way.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“Like I already told you, they’re people you don’t want to know.”

“I’d kind of like to know who I’m dealing with.”

“Do you want to end up like your father?”

I paused for a second. Something wasn’t right with the way he said that. “What do you mean?”

“Your father didn’t die from natural causes.”

I gripped the door handle, squeezing with all my might. There was no way that could be true. The doctors and nurses were with him. If something like that had happened, they would have figured it out.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. I have nothing to gain from it.”

“You’re telling me these guys helped kill my father?”

“They didn’t help. They did it.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re just as crazy as all the other people around here!”

“Believe what you want to believe.”

I had angered him. That was fine, he did the same to me. There was no way somebody killed my father. He was old and sick. But he did get me thinking. My father did seem fine when we were talking, then just a little later, was gone. Those things happen. People died like that all the time and weren’t killed.

“How did they kill him then?” I asked.

“The how isn’t important.”

“Okay, then why did they kill him?”

“He was getting close to figuring out what was going on.”

“My father?” He wasn’t exactly an investigative reporter.

“Yeah, and now they’re afraid you’ll figure it out.”

I nodded. This was getting too strange for me. I knew there were bad guys out there, but had no clue they were this bad. That’s assuming this man was telling the truth. I couldn’t tell.

“You need to go,” he said.

“I have more questions.”

“You’ll have to ask them later.”

I noticed that he kept looking in the rear view mirror. Something was bothering him.

“How can I get in touch with you?”

“You don’t. I’ll call you.”

“But I need to know…” I stopped, seeing the look on the man’s face. He was looking in the mirror again, but his complexion was fading away. The man was horrified. I could tell it wasn’t a feeling that he was used to experiencing.

“Go!”

I got out of the truck, just in time before he sped off back toward town. I was standing on the side of the road and looked back toward Hodgen. Two trucks were coming fast. I planned for them to pass before crossing the road. The first one suddenly changed directions and angled in my direction. I realized the truck was coming directly at me and jumped back, just in time. I felt the power of the truck as it blew past, only inches away. The force knocked me even farther back. I landed on my rear and I looked for the second truck, expecting it to try and finish the job, but it was already gone. Whoever was driving that truck meant it. He had not lost control of anything.

Mule came running across the road. He leaned over and pulled me up.

“How com youse sittin down?” he asked. “You otay?”

I nodded. I was shaking again.

“I’s sorry all de blood and deer innerds made youse sick.”

I shook my head. He held my arm and walked me across the road. No other traffic was coming. Squiggy was already in the truck. We climbed in. I had never been so scared in all my life. As time passed by, I realized how close that was. It might not be shock that I was going in, but it was too close.

“What’s wrong wif you?” Squiggy asked. “Ya look like you’d seen one of dem Casper ghosts.”

“I found him like dis,” Mule added. “Figger we need to take him home?”

Squiggy grunted. “We gotta git some beer first.”

“Yeah, since we ain’t got no money and Mikey is gonna buy it.”

“After we drop him off, we can go to de bar.”

“Good. Ya want it?”

That knocked me out of the daze. What was Mule asking Squiggy about.

“Yeah, better git it.”

I watched as Mule opened the glove container and pulled out a rolled up pair of socks. He handed it over to Squiggy.

He saw me eyeing him. “What, did you want it?”

“Why would I want your socks?” I asked.

He smiled and stepped out of the truck. Squiggy dropped his pants, even though the woman who had earlier hit the deer was less than twenty feet away. He took the socks and stuck them down his boxers, then pulled his pants back up.

“What are you doing?” I asked, sickened about everything that happened and then catching Squiggy stuffing his underwear.

“Just enhancin de package,” he said. "Not that I need anything."

“Ain’t nothin wrong wif it,” Mule chimed in. “Chicks wear dem padded bras.”

Squiggy had to straighten things up before he climbed back in the truck.

“Does that actually help you pick up women?” I asked.

“Sure don’t hurt. You oughta try it!”

“I’ll pass.”

“I got another pair behind the seat. Sometimes I’ll put two in to mess wif de chicks. There’ll be one goin down bof legs.”

That could create some confusion. I started to ask Mule if he had ever used this technique, but realized he didn’t need any help. I was starting to calm down now.

I was at a loss as to what to do. I needed to get to my mother’s house, but also had to make sure the door to the office was covered. Chief Arnold promised to send somebody over to take care of it, but I didn’t have a lot of confidence in him.

We waited until help arrived and drove toward Hodgen. We stopped at the store and I gave Mule enough money to get some beer. He seemed happy and almost glided while going into the store.

“Scoot over!” Squiggy commanded. I was still in the middle and apparently I had not moved over fast enough.

I moved over against the window and looked outside. I could still see the stain where Chili Dog had spit on the window earlier this evening. This truck had a bad smell to it, like there had been too much beer spilled and rotten egg poots squeezed out.

A truck pulled up beside us. It was an older model with several dings and dents on the side. Each section of the truck was a different color. The door was red, the front fender was blue and the back section was a rusty white color. A man climbed out and looked around. He had a shaved head and wore a tank top and what looked like old gym shorts. His shirt and pants were a matching blue color.

He was a little chubby. His arms looked like they had been large at one time, but had shrunk over time. There was a tattoo on both arms. He started walking toward the store and I saw him leap over a greasy stain on the concrete.

“I’ll be darned, there’s old Flash!” Squiggy said. Mule met him coming out while Flash was walking in. Mule edged way to the side and stayed as far away as possible.

“Is he fast?” I asked. That seemed almost impossible. The guy had a belly that made me look skinny.

“Not that I know of.”

I knew this was a question that I would probably regret. “Why do you call him ‘Flash’? Is that his name?”

“His real name's Mo, I calls him 'Flash' cause that’s a what he likes to do.”

“What?”

“Man, yo brains don’t work all de time. Ast Mule when he gits in.”

I waited for Mule to climb in the truck. He already had one beer opened and was guzzling it.

“How come they call that guy ‘Flash’?” I asked.

Mule leaned forward and glared at Squiggy.

“It’s his cousin,” Squiggy added.

“I cain’t help it!” Mule countered.

“Okay, why do they call him that?” I asked.

“Aw, people says he goes up to women and girls and shows dem his tool.”

“His tool? Is he a mechanic?”

“Naw, he’s a carpenter. Not that kinda tool. Ya know, he shows dem his talleywhacker.”

“That’s sick.”

“Yep, we kinda avoid him, afeared he might be wantin to show us his thingey, but so far he sticks wif de women.”

“He must be proud.”

Squiggy laughed. “Of what?”

“His thing, to show it off like that.”

“Ain’t no reason fer him to be proud. Flash might be his cousin, but I think Mule got all de bonus material.”

“Surely he doesn’t do that,” I said.

They both nodded.

“He showed my sister once,” Squiggy said. “Messed her up bad.”

“Yeah,” Mule agreed. “Now she dresses like a ho.”

I looked at Squiggy, expecting him to hit Mule over the head with something. But he was just nodding.

“Yeah, she wears dees tight little skirts and shirts that show too much of her bosoms.”

“And high heels!” Mule added.

“Yep, high heels,” Squiggy said

“I like de high heels!”

“And she only wants to date de Mexicans,” Squiggy added. “No white fellers will have anything to do wif her. Mexicans seem to like chubby white women wif big melons, ya know?”

This was a truly fascinating conversation, but one that I did not particularly care to hear.

“Take me by my mother’s house,” I said.

“We gonna take her wif us to de bar?” Mule asked.

“And de shakey kid?” Squiggy asked, showing a little hesitation.

“No, we’re not going to take my mother and M.J. to the bar.”

That would damage them worse than seeing Flash do his thing.

“No, I’m going to pick them up and keep them with me.”

“Y’all wannna play Name That Carcass?” Squiggy asked.

Yeah!” Mule was up for it.

“What’s that?”

“We’re drivin down the road and whoever sees road kill tries to identify it. Let’s say it was Mule. If he sees something and says it’s a diller, we’ll stop and see what it is. If it is a diller, then Mule gits to hit us. But if’n he’s wrong, we gits to knock de crap outta him.”

“I’ll pass. We really need to get back to town.”

“Okay,” Squiggy agreed, acting disappointed. “You ain’t too much fun.”

“We can play later, Squigs,” Mule said. “Then we can hit the bypass, there’s always a lotta dead critters there.”

Squiggy nodded. Then he and Mule had a rather interesting conversation about which movie star they would like to make love with. I had no idea how this started, just that I wished they would shut up.

“Julie Rodgers,” Squiggy offered, badly messing up her name. “She’s got a big mouth.”

“I kinda like that talking show woman,” Mule offered.

“It’s gotta be a movie star.”

“She’s been in movies.”

“Who are you talking about?” I asked.

“That woman wif the talk show.”

“Opera?” Squiggy offered.

“Oprah,” I corrected him.

“Yeah, she’s de one!”

“But she’s black!” Squiggy protested.

“She is?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh…but I still likes her,” Mule added. “You’d never know which one would show up. The skinny Opera or de fat one.”

I tuned them out until we got to my mother’s house. Now, they were talking about what they would do if Pamela Anderson flashed them.

“I’d probably die right der,” Squiggy suggested.

“I’d show her mine,” Mule offered.

“Then she’d die!”

I thanked them and got out of the truck. Most of the lights were out in the neighborhood. When I got inside, I saw Mom sitting on the couch, talking on the phone. Like that was a surprise. M.J. was asleep next to her.

She put her hand over the phone and turned to me. “Hello, Michael. Just a second. I’m talking on the phone.”

I was so glad she clarified that. For a minute, I was wondering if she just had the phone cradled next to her head for comfort.

“Can I borrow your car?” I asked. Since M.J. was out for the night, I was just going to drive to the Review and make sure the door was covered up.

“Just a second…no, I’m no taking another call,” Mom said, then shook her head. These people are such a pain, her look seemed to indicate. I’d like to show her the hang up so you don’t have to talk to them look.

“I just need to go down and make sure everything is okay at the Review,” I offered.

“Don’t take my car to the bar!” she said, a poet and didn’t even know it.

“I won’t.”

I found her keys and drove back across the highway and the bumpy railroad tracks. Her big car had a much smoother ride. I just hoped nobody saw me driving it. Downtown was deserted. Most people had called it a night, other than the barhoppers and the convenience store clerks. When I pulled around to the alley behind the office, I saw a white truck parked behind the Review.

Slowly, I eased up behind it. This was the guy’s truck that I had talked with earlier. As I got out of Mom’s car, I wondered why he was parked behind the Review. His door was open just wide enough to see the light shining from inside the truck.

I waited for a second, expecting the man to come out and explain why he was here. I grabbed the door handle and started to open it. Even before I did so, I had a bad feeling that something was wrong.

After opening the door, the feeling was confirmed. I started backing up, tripped over something and fell to the ground. I continued to crawl away from the truck. I realized I was screaming like I had never done so before, but couldn't stop.

My eyes were locked into the gaze of the man's eyes staring back at me. They would never intimidate anybody again.

Chapter 51