by Mary Saums
The younger man grasped the plastic corner closest him in order to pull the tarp off the pit. I moved the AR-15’s barrel slightly, steadied myself, and acquired a new target.
Suddenly, Phoebe’s voice whispered in my ears from her walkie-talkie. I listened, then silently swore.
Thirty-Two
Phoebe Takes the Initiative
Jane didn’t like what I had to tell her.
I pushed the talk button on my two-way radio and barely whispered into the microphone. “Jane. Don’t talk, just listen. Aunt Woo-Woo and Homer are gone. I can’t see them anywhere. So don’t shoot them by mistake. I’m going to circle behind you to the woods on your right. If you change your mind and want me to shoot after all, I will be in position shortly. Just say ‘now,’ and I’ll come out and commence firing. Over and out.”
That Jane is so stubborn. I’m sure in her mind she thought getting me out of the line of fire was for my own good. It was her own good I was worried about. She’s the boss though, so I left like she wanted me to. I scooted back the way I came without a sound. When I got to the spot and saw that Aunt Woo-Woo and Homer were gone, I gasped. I covered my mouth quick and prayed nobody heard me.
I headed out along the long row of fallen rocks. I looked and looked the whole way but didn’t see hide nor hair of the escapees. At the last of the rock wall, I slowed and edged forward as quietly as I could so I could see what Jane and those boys were up to.
I peeped out between two juniper branches and found Jane, now about thirty feet away on my left, with the sorry bad guys maybe another twenty feet down and farther out in the open. I knew one thing. As soon as this was all over, I was going to grab the tall one by the ear and walk him all the way into Tullulah to his worthless parents’ house and make them tell me how they could’ve raised such a lowdown skunk. He and his parents both had some answering to do.
The head honcho giving orders was that sorry old white man from the library. I didn’t recognize the young guy, the one who looked like a bulldog pup. He moved the tarp out of the way and then all three of those guys stood there and studied the dirt. Bunch of nuts. It beat all I’ve ever seen. There Jane and I were, guarding a hole in the ground from a guy who came all the way from Ohio to sneak out here and stare at it in the middle of the night. That lying white-headed so-and-so studied a little longer, then stood up.
“Byrd, you do this one. Quickly. You do the other,” he said as he pointed out two bumps in the dirt. He was a bird, all right. Jeff Byrd was high on my to-be-plucked-and-fried list.
With Byrd and Bulldog working, Ohio boy nodded and moved farther down and beyond the tree trunk. He stopped at the symbols carved in the rock overhead and ran his hand over them. His teeth gleamed like a wolf’s as he smiled and patted the rock.
“Next time,” he said. “Too bad we left the chisels.”
Ha. Too bad I was going to send him flying over the skies of Indianapolis with one mighty kick here in a minute. He snickered and went back to supervise his boys.
Meanwhile, Jeff Byrd set the shovel blade in a groove Jane or Michael had made around one of the bumps. Inside the middle of the square trench, I could see something blue. I couldn’t tell what it was, as far away as I was. Not much stuck out of the ground. He chopped deeper around the trench until he made a square out of the dirt with the blue thing inside. Bulldog did the same around the rock.
I looked sideways to Jane. Why was she letting them do it? She looked ready to shoot any second. All I could figure was she wanted the police to catch them in the act or running away with the goods so they couldn’t weasel out of it in court.
Jane finally looked in my direction and found me. She pointed at me, moved her finger around and to the right, like she wanted me to circle the guys. I started to sneak that way but she put her palm out quick with a stopping motion. She held up a finger. Wait. She tapped her mike, which meant wait until she signaled. I gave her the thumbs-up.
The slimeballs worked with not a word between them until both blocks were shoveled out, dirt and all, wrapped up, and put in the duffel bags they brought. I’ll say this for them, they were careful with those precious dirt blocks. The world has gone insane.
All this time, I glanced around looking for Aunt Woo-Woo. Not a sign. Ohio zipped one duffel bag up and then the other one. Once they bagged all their tools, they stood. Where were the cops? It was high time they showed up. Not a sound had come through the woods yet that would tell us they were anywhere close. I looked to Jane, lit up by moonlight behind the tree trunk, and saw her hand move slowly down to the trigger.
All of a sudden, the big, square, heavy-duty lantern head exploded at the far end of the pit. It wasn’t just shot with one little hole in it, either. Son, that thing was completely gone. Lights out and nothing but little glass and metal pellets chinking like hail out of the sky on the plastic tarp.
I watched Jane sweep her rifle across in a straight line a few inches and shoot again, blowing the lantern head on the far right to smithereens like she did the other one. Bulldog jumped backward like he had been shot himself. Jeff grabbed the duffels. Ohio was about to pick up his lantern right next to him when Jane blew away the lamp head in that sucker, too, with his fingers barely an inch from it.
The three men turned to cut and run. Jane jumped up and around the fallen tree. “Go!” she whispered into the mike. I froze at first. I don’t know what came over me. All I could do was watch what she did.
She ran after them and to the left, enough to shoot past them. The blast made bark splinter and spray from a tree they were headed toward. Like sheep, the men herded themselves to the right, but only a step or two because right then Homer leaped out of the woods like a charging grizzly bear, barking and baring his teeth like he was about to eat them alive.
They decided to stop. All three put their hands in the air.
Finally, I jumped up and ran out into the open toward them. They didn’t see me. I came from behind and ran toward them from the right. Jane had her rifle trained on them, standing a few feet behind them and to my left.
She signaled me to stay behind the men. I nodded. I would’ve rather thrown Smokahontas down and gone over to box Jeff Byrd’s ears. But Jane had other ideas. I’d have my time with that boy sooner or later. She signaled again. Now, she stuck her arm out like she wanted me to back up more and move closer to her. I did.
Homer kept snarling. He paced in front of the men, giving each thief a bark as he passed and letting saliva drip out of his mouth like he was a drill sergeant, like he dared them to be his next snack. Bulldog boy chanced a look over his shoulder. I knew what he was thinking. He saw we were just two little old ladies. He smirked and decided we were no problem.
Thirty-Three
Jane Takes Care of Business
How foolish of me. I should have done something about the stocky assistant first. Of the three, only he had the physique of a man who works out regularly.
I saw him look over his shoulder and turn for me. I had just enough time to swing toward him and deliver an upper blow with the AR-15’s body. It hit him across the clavicle and neck, making him stagger backward.
A black blur lunged through the air and Homer’s front legs rammed the stocky man in the chest with such force as to knock him to the ground. I caught my breath. “Good boy. Stay with him.”
I fired a shot in the air to halt the young man carrying the duffel bags in his tracks. I walked briskly to him. Of course, I couldn’t be sure, but from the look on his face, he looked quite surprised when he turned to see two older ladies with large guns. Or perhaps, I thought, it was our face paint that gave him pause.
“Mrs. Twigg?” he said incredulously. “From the library?”
Phoebe took a tough-guy stance and gave him a long, cold stare. “I’m not your average librarian,” she said in a low-pitched voice.
I used the young man’s present stunned state to my advantage. When I reached him, I grabbed one of the bags he held by its handles with both my hands
. I jerked the bag, and his arm along with it, down smartly, bringing his head to the level of mine, and slammed a left elbow strike into the side of it. He dropped to the ground, out cold, and would not be getting up soon.
I turned quickly to find Phoebe had already moved forward. The end of her rifle barrel nudged Edward’s back. “Hold it right there, lover boy,” she said.
A quick look told me Homer had his assignment well under his control, for he snarled and snapped if the stocky man tried to move in the least. I turned to take charge of Edward.
Phoebe still held her AK in his back. Not a comforting sight, even if I didn’t care for the man. “By the way,” she said to him, “how’s that movie stuff coming along?”
He chuckled under his breath as he turned slowly, hands still in the air, to face her. He grinned from behind his white beard and moustache. “Very well. Thank you for asking.”
“Did I tell you to turn around?” she said with a sassy tone.
His answer was a right punch to her jaw. I hurried to break her fall and was just able to keep her head from hitting the ground. I scrambled to my feet, brought the AR-15 into position as I stood, fully intending to shoot him as he ran.
I ran to the side and fired ahead of him into the bottom of a tree trunk before him at the forest’s edge. I kept running forward. He stopped momentarily when I fired into the tree but clearly was about to run again. When I circled from the left and faced him with the rifle aimed, he raised his hands. I didn’t understand why he smiled.
He stepped backward a few feet while holding up a small metal object high in his hand. I knew what it was.
“Drop your weapon,” he said. He continued walking backward around the edge of the clearing. The small object in his hand had come from the metal box he’d stolen. It was the miniature flamethrower. I had forgotten about it.
I continued walking forward. “Close it,” I said, forcing my voice to show no emotion in spite of the fear clutching my heart.
“I’ll torch this place, I swear,” he said.
“I’ll shoot you, then put the fire out while you bleed to death. Close it.”
Edward walked more slowly. He stopped at a low branch covered in yellow leaves. My heart lurched. He could reach it without fully extending his arm. “I’ll trade you,” he said. “For the artifacts.” He smiled wider. “It’s a good bargain. I get a few trinkets and you get to keep your precious woods. Now drop your weapon.”
I had no choice. I’d heard no sign of the police as yet, but had to trust that they would intercept Draughn at some point on his escape route. I couldn’t risk the damage one of these could do. With reluctance, I pulled the strap over my head and lay the gun down, never looking away from the flame. My voice shook as I watched. “Please. Take them.” The words cracked. I steeled myself and tried again. “Close it.”
“Very well.” He snapped the flame shut. I breathed again. “Bring the bags closer.”
I set them where he instructed, close to him but not too close for his comfort. I stepped back and held out my hand for the torch. He palmed it, as if he were about to throw it toward me. Instead he stopped. He flicked the flame on once again. The horrible smile returned.
A wave of panic flooded my body and mind. No more chances. I hurled myself at him. With both hands, I grasped his wrist and closed the flame thrower. I kicked his legs and attempted a knee to the groin but could not connect. He struck my face with the back of his hand then twisted me down to my knees. I watched in horror as he flicked the steel casing open once more, clicked on the flame, and tossed it several yards away into the clearing.
It landed on top of a small mound of leaves. Fire instantly curled and browned the edges of those it touched, creating wisps of smoke that roiled prettily before rising in thin white lines and disappearing into nothing.
Thirty-Four
Phoebe Gets Her Wish
Ohio’s punch to my jaw knocked me down but not out. Well, maybe I did rest for a little while. All I know is, I raised up on my elbows to see Jane setting those duffel bags down in front of that white boy lowlife.
I smelled something funny. That was when I realized Aunt Woo-Woo was sitting cross-legged next to me. The tiny burlap bag she had held up to my face smelled like a skunk’s dirty socks. I waved my hand in front of my face to get some breathable air. Aunt Woo-Woo stood and brushed herself off.
“Get up now,” she said. “It’s just about that time.” She offered her arm and helped me stand. It surprised me how strong she was. I touched my jaw where it was tender but otherwise I felt fine. She closed the drawstring on the bag and stuffed it in one of her sash pockets.
Right about then, I heard a car coming and could see the light from its headlights out in the woods. Thank goodness. It was about time for the police to show up. At least, I sure hoped it was them and not bad guy reinforcements.
I heard a howl like a bobcat but realized it must have been Jane. I saw her rush at Ohio and attack him. When she did, that stocky bulldog boy that Homer was guarding made a dash for the woods in the direction of the cars. Homer went after him.
I knew I had to do something. All of a sudden, I felt dirt flying into my face and all around me. It made me sneeze. Then I saw it wasn’t dirt, but something Aunt Woo-Woo was throwing in the air. She had another one of her tiny pouches in one hand. First, she slung the powder side to side like she was a flower girl at a wedding. Then she sprinkled some in her palm and blew it out of her hand like a kid blowing bubbles. I didn’t have time for that silly stuff. I adjusted my rifle strap, said a prayer, and hugged Smokahontas.
I looked around for Jane. I saw her lunge sideways on top of a pile of leaves. Ohio watched her a second then turned and took off running. She flailed around, beating the ground and rolling in the leaves. It was like she didn’t know or care that he was getting away.
It was up to me. I ran but there was no way I could catch him. He was close to the ridge and could be in his car and gone by the time I got there.
That was when the miracle happened. The wind blew in. Not just a nice little evening breeze. I’m talking about big strong gusts that just about knocked me down. They came in over the bluff and moved across the clearing like a typhoon hitting the beach. I halfway expected to see a funnel cloud because it took all I had just to keep standing up straight. Tree limbs that had been calm suddenly whipped around like they weighed nothing.
I staggered to take a step when all of a sudden the wind got even stronger and gusted and picked me up off the ground. Not just a little hop, up an inch or two and back down again, either. I mean way up high and I stayed there. I felt like one of those cows you see on TV swirling around in a tornado. Only I didn’t swirl. I shot straight up like a missile. Leaves were flying around in my face like there was a helicopter landing and then that wind picked me up and slung me in a straight line from the middle of the clearing right and straight toward that no-account thief. My stomach flipped when I whooshed up but once I was high in the air, I felt like I was floating, like I was on a hang glider.
When I was closing in on Ohio’s backside, I held Smokahontas tight and leaned back. I brought my legs straight out in front of me. As he stepped up the ridge, I reached back for my grenade flash-bang doo-hickey, bit the pin out like John Wayne, and threw that thing at him while floating in midair. A white light flashed and boomed right then below the ridge top. Another light flashed just as I yelled “Eeee-Yaaaah!” and karate-kicked that boy slap between the shoulder blades.
He should have gone down. Unfortunately, another gust of wind picked him up in the air and he flew straight ahead while I started falling. About that time, I wondered how I was supposed to put on the brakes.
The ground came up fast. I didn’t actually make it all the way to the ground at first, though, because my foot touched down right next to the fishing line Jane had strung between the two trees. My right shoe caught on the line, and by the time my other foot came down, there was nothing but air to step on.
I trie
d to turn myself sideways for what I figured might be an easier landing. In between twisting and hitting the ground, I looked up to see Ohio boy doing the same thing, tripping and then flying off the ridge. And about to fall right on top of me. I held my arms out to catch him but wish now that I hadn’t. They hurt for days. I doubt it softened the fall for him much, but it could’ve been worse. I could’ve let him fall straight onto Smokahontas and then he’d have a permanent imprint of an AK-46 and a half across his belly.
He hollered. I would have, too, but he knocked the breath out of me for a second. I pushed him off. He didn’t stay down on the ground. He rolled and immediately began to get up. The police car was a lot closer now, but I’m not sure he even heard it. He got up on one knee, then winced as he grabbed a tree trunk to help him get back up over the ridge again.
“I don’t think so,” I said, but wasn’t sure how I could follow through on it. I hurt all over. When I moved, nothing seemed to be broken. I wished Jane would be up there waiting to kick his sorry carcass, but I couldn’t be sure she was able. I might be the one who needed to get up and go help her.
Ohio had a head start. No telling what he was thinking or was capable of doing. I groaned, got to my feet, and went up the ridge the same way he did, by holding onto trees.
The wind still gusted but not so strong as before. It blew steady across the clearing, swirling the fall leaves around in dust devils and scooting them into heaps. Ohio walked toward the two duffel bags. He bent to pick them up and put both in one hand. My heart about squeezed shut when I saw why. He had a gun in the other hand. It looked mighty familiar.
I slapped my hand across to my shoulder holster. Empty. That dog. What I would’ve given for another one of those flash things. I took a deep breath and tried to get a grip. I prayed for angels. And, would you believe, right after I thought it, I heard one singing. Ohio boy heard it, too, and looked up.
