by Joe Nobody
Penny thought about his concern for a moment, “We can unload the feed later. Why don’t you skedaddle on the ATV and stay out of sight for a bit… at least until we figure out what he’s up to.”
Dusty liked the idea. If law enforcement were onto his whereabouts, it would buy him some time. Besides, he wanted to get a closer look at the Tri-Mat facility. “Sounds good. I’ll sneak back in a few hours.”
The ATV started on the second kick and was soon rolling across the pasture. Dusty was careful to keep the big barn between him and the still-idling deputy.
After he was no longer visible from the road, he vectored in on the section of fence that he’d repaired the day before. He was relieved to find the barrier still intact, not sure of his reaction if the structure had been pushed down again.
Rolling slowly down the line, he noticed a few more dead birds in the pasture. The rest of the flock didn’t seem healthy, their movements uncharacteristically lethargic. “Something is poisoning these animals,” he mumbled.
The ranch’s terrain gently sloped downward to a stream that bordered the north side of the property. Cypress trees, with their clutching web of exposed roots, clung to the banks of the waterway. It was a shady, tranquil oasis.
Dusty found a good parking spot under the low-hanging wisps and switched off the ATV. He dismounted his gas-powered steed and made for the bank, some part of the human consciousness drawing him toward the water.
The flow was steady, smoothly worn rocks and areas of sand lining the bottom and shore. He didn’t see any evidence of industrial waste, pollution, or stagnation. “But then I probably wouldn’t,” he whispered to the flowing liquid.
Still, the scene before him was picturesque. There was a band of cattails a bit further upstream, healthy looking grass lining the creek’s side a little further down.
He meandered along the stream, both enjoying and studying nature. The plant life looked healthy, and the darting shadow of a school of minnows seemed to indicate that the water was healthy enough to support fish life. Two crows were enjoying a morning bath and drink, further evidence of a non-toxic environment.
Then something caught his eye. Movement. On the opposite bank, 300 yards up the rise. He stopped mid-stride, and that decision saved his life.
The bullet’s supersonic crack zipped past his chest so close he could feel the wake of air press into his ribs. The projectile slammed into a cypress trunk, the solid “thud” soon followed by the echo of a gunshot rolling across the prairie.
Dusty’s body recoiled like a rattlesnake had suddenly appeared at his foot. His unthinking, natural reaction was to get his torso away from the deadly line of fire. He twisted and tried to back up at the same instant. The soft, sandy soil gave way, and he ended up flat on his back.
Some primitive instinct took charge, freezing his muscles, containing his body where it fell. He even found himself holding his breath. His mind began to clear a second later, quickly reaching the conclusion that perhaps lying still wasn’t such a bad plan. Wouldn’t the sniper think he was dead?
Several moments passed, Dusty trying to inhale at a slow, shallow pace. It then occurred to him that perhaps the assassin would come closer to inspect his target. What the hell was he going to do if the guy walked up? How long could he play possum? Would the shooter decide to put a second bullet into his carcass – just to be sure? This was maddening.
Less than a minute passed before he couldn’t stand the suppositions his mind was conjuring any longer. Taking a deep breath, he rolled over and sprang for the ATV. Running half bent at the waist, his body was tense, expecting the hammer-like blow of a bullet any moment.
He slid like a baseball player stealing second base, coming to a stop behind the protective cover of the off-road vehicle. Or was it?
Almost in a panic, Dusty realized that the thin fiberglass body wasn’t going to stop a high-powered rifle slug. Even the small gas motor and wheel probably wouldn’t deter death by lead. The fear was almost paralyzing, at best causing him indecision.
In a matter of moments that began to change. Anger at the injustice of it all started filling his core, the rage building quickly. He hated the remoteness of the sniper’s attack, the concept of a man not facing his enemy adding to his ire.
Chancing a brief exposure, Dusty reached into the ATV and grabbed the duffle bag. He yanked it to the ground and pulled out the rail gun.
The green LED illuminated instantly, its glow reassuring his shaking hands. He managed to drop the ball bearing into the breach.
“I will lay fucking-waste to that entire ridgeline,” he growled as he shouldered the weapon. “I will evaporate that entire pasture and you with it, you son of a bitch.”
He didn’t care about exposing his head, bringing his eye to the mounted scope and focusing on the area where he’d spotted the movement.
Back and forth, he scanned, wanting desperately to identify a target. His wrath pushed aside any concerns over discovery, jail, or never seeing Grace again. He wanted to kill those who had just tried to end his life.
But the scope’s magnification did not identify an objective for retaliation. Nothing but grass, scrub oak, and the occasional cactus filled the circular view through the optic.
“You cowardly piece of shit… you’re hiding now, aren’t ya. You know you’re outgunned and outmanned. Come on out, and face the reaper you little piss ant,” he hissed.
Still not identifying a target, Dusty’s mood worsened. Burning, acidic fury filled his soul. He pulled the gun away from his shoulder and looked at the power level. His thumb pushed the control upwards, the red LED indicating 25… and then 35… and finally 100.
“To hell with all this,” he grumbled, bringing the gun back to his shoulder. “I am so tired of all this shit. Mitch said I might crack the earth’s crust. Let’s see if he was right. Let’s end all this right now.”
His finger moved to the trigger as he centered the cross hairs on the distant ridge.
“Dusty? Dusty, you okay? I thought I heard a shot?” called a distant female voice.
For a moment, with the blood of revenge pounding in his ears, Dusty’s brain registered the voice as Grace’s. An image of the petite woman and her warm smile filled his mind. It was calming. It tugged at his heart.
He lowered the rifle, glancing over his shoulder to see Penny and one of her daughters approaching from across the pasture. The sniper!
He waved them down and shouted, “Stay back and get down! Someone just shot at me!”
Penny pulled the teenage girl close, and then the meaning of his words sunk in. She turned and began hustling back toward the house, casting worried glances over her shoulder.
Exhaling deeply, Dusty glanced at the weapon in his hands. He moved the power level back down to 02, and then returned to scouting the distant ridge. Nothing. Not a damned thing.
Finally deciding the shooter had scampered away, he ejected the ball bearing and returned it to the tube. He turned off the rail gun, watching the green LED fade to black. Still weary, he quickly mounted the ATV and sped off for the barn.
After negotiating the minefield that was her walk home from the bus stop, Juanita paused at the apartment door, something seemingly out of place. It’s quiet, she thought. Tessa is supposed to be home. Why is it so quiet?
Shrugging her shoulders and anxious to get the hospital smell off her body, she inserted the key and pushed open the door. An extremely large hand appeared in the opening, clutching her arm with significant force and pulling her roughly inside. She never noticed the door slamming shut behind her.
Terrified, Juanita found herself facing three burly men spread around her living room. Tessa was there as well, sitting with a dishtowel full of ice held against the side of her head. Her sister’s eye was already turning black, and it was clear the younger girl had been crying.
“Hello, Juanita,” a deep male voice sounded. “My name is Victor, and I have a proposition for you.”
Her first instinc
t was to help Tessa, but when she tried to move to her sibling’s side, the man behind her grabbed her arms, holding her firm.
“Your sister will be just fine, Juanita,” the smooth voice said. “She wasn’t welcoming when we first arrived, and a minor accident ensured. We don’t wish to harm anyone.”
“Get out of my house,” Juanita barked, rage rising in her chest.
“We’ll be happy to leave, as soon as you’ve had a chance to hear me out,” Victor calmly answered. “We know you work at Houston General Hospital,” he continued. “One of the patients on your floor is of particular interest to my employers. We’d like your help obtaining information about the man.”
The frightened woman glanced at each of the three invaders, knowing immediately who and what they were. “I don’t help murderous, cartel slime. Get out of here.”
Victor smiled, almost as if her reaction was anticipated. He took two steps to stand beside Tessa and reached for her chin. Tessa tried to recoil from his touch, but was held in place by the third goon.
Squeezing hard on the girl’s mandible, Victor forced her to look up at him. “Juanita, do I see a family resemblance here? I beg you to reconsider,” he said in a cold, vicious tone. “I would hate to see anything happen to the beautiful young woman.”
Juanita tried again to go to her sister’s aid, but the iron-like grip of the henchmen behind her impeded any movement. “Leave her alone,” she hissed, struggling to free herself from the thug.
Victor smiled warmly at the older sister, and then without any warning, clinched his fist and struck Tessa with a savage rabbit punch. The victim’s head snapped backwards, her coal black hair flying in disarray. The other two men grunted.
“Noooo!” Juanita howled, doubling her futile efforts to escape.
Victor glanced at her and then grasped Tessa’s blouse. With a single motion, he tore the thin material and ripped away the scraps. With her heaving, bare chest exposed, Tessa seemed to go into shock. Blood dripped from her nose onto the white flesh of her breasts.
“You animals!” Juanita screamed, “Help! Help us!”
In a flash, Victor was standing with his face inches away, his breath hot on her face. So menacing was his expression, Juanita abandoned her pleas for assistance.
“Stop this,” he commanded, “Or I’ll make your sister’s pain unbearable and then kill you both. Assist us with your patient, and no one will be harmed. Refuse us, and I will turn my men loose on both of you. They will enjoy your company until content, and then dispose of the two of you. Do you want to see your sister violated in front of your very eyes? Believe me; my comrades are not so gentle. But you can stop this.”
Juanita’s eyes darted back and forth, moving from her sister to the man in front of her. Finally, she nodded and then whispered, “I’ll do as you ask.”
“Good,” Victor replied, and turned to one of his men. “Take the younger one to the back and have her pack a suitcase. Watch her closely, but do not harm her.”
He observed as they left and then returned his attention to Juanita. “We are going to take her with us, just so you don’t change your mind. When our needs have been fulfilled, we will release her unharmed.”
“But you said…,” stumbled a confused Juanita, “but I said I would….”
Victor shook his head, grunted laughter escaping from this throat. “She won’t be harmed; I’ll treat her like my own sister. Now this is what I want you to do….”
Victor continued, outlining Juanita’s duties. He never mentioned that he had killed his own sister.
Penny and the girls were waiting on him, staying close to the house and obviously concerned. After quick reassurances that he was uninjured, Dusty asked if he could borrow the truck.
“Where are you going?” she asked with a high level of suspicion.
“Someone shot at me from Tri-Materials, and I’m going to go confront them about it. Only three things can happen; one, they shoot me on sight. Two, they have me arrested. Three, we clear the air so you can get back to ranching. This standoff is ridiculous.”
“You left out a forth option, they could just ignore you.”
“I don’t think so.”
Penny clearly didn’t think it was a good idea. “You could make things worse,” she offered.
“How can things be worse? They had your husband arrested. They knocked over your fence and now they’ve shot at your hand. Short of burning down your house, I don’t see how they could get much more aggressive.”
“I’ll give you a ride over there. Maybe they’ll think twice if there are two of us.”
Dusty shook his head, “No, that’s not wise. If something happens to me, you’re no worse off than before we met. Consider though, what would become of the girls if they had you arrested as well?”
She paused to contemplate that option, but then turned the argument against him. “Your ex is going to know exactly where you are if they call the sheriff while you’re there. And don’t forget, I saw what they did to my husband. His argument was almost word for word the same as yours… that is, before they led him away in handcuffs. The last thing I heard him say was, ‘We can talk this through.’ He’s still rotting in a cell.”
Dusty pulled off his hat and wiped his brow. Maybe she is right, he thought. Maybe I need to cool my jets and think this through. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “What happened to the deputy?”
“That’s what we were coming out to tell you,” Penny smiled. “He left about 10 minutes after you took off on the ATV. We were on our way to let you know.”
Dusty tried to make sense of it all. Was the deputy somehow related to the sniper? Why would someone shoot at him? That seemed awful brash for a corporation.
“Do you have a computer? I’d like to do some research on Tri-Materials.”
Relieved that he no longer seemed determined to rush into a confrontation, Penny smiled and nodded. “Sure do. Why don’t we go into the kitchen? I’ll pour you some iced tea, and the girls can help you get on the internet. I’m not as good with it as they are.”
Ten minutes later, Dusty was reading the annual report for Tri-Materials Incorporated while he sipped his cool drink.
The company had been on the verge of bankruptcy just a few short years ago. Primarily serving the automotive industry, they specialized in making critical metal parts that required expensive coatings and exotic plating.
The next section Dusty read involved the miraculous turn-around initiated by a new Chief Executive Officer. The new head honcho was known as a hard-nosed, anti-labor, anti-regulation businessman who had held a variety of senior management positions in manufacturing.
The recently appointed CEO attributed the company’s newfound profitability to the NAFTA trade agreement, the business friendly environment in the Lone Star State, and the explosive worldwide growth of technology.
“Our new plant in south Texas is manufacturing products for a third of the cost that was typical just a few years ago. We’ve added over 500 good-paying jobs to the community and integrated well with our existing facilities in Mexico. We hope to expand operations there next year,” Dusty read aloud as Penny fussed around the kitchen.
“That’s true,” she commented. “Laredo was beginning to look like a ghost town during the recession. A lot of farms and businesses were failing. The new Tri-Mat factory was a godsend… or at least everyone thought so at the time.”
“And now?”
“Pretty much everyone still believes that. They’re now the largest employer in the area, and Laredo is building everything from new strip malls to a bigger, modern high school. Except for my chickens, the town seems to love them.”
Dusty rubbed his chin, browsing the computer screen, but finding little else of interest. He sat back and then brightened. Turning to Penny, he announced, “I’ve got an idea. It might help us figure out what’s going on. Do you have a digital camera and a cardboard box big enough to hold one of the dead birds?”
She had to t
hink about it for a moment, but finally responded, “Yes… yes I do, but what are you thinking?”
“I have a friend who’s a big shot up at Texas A&M. He loves a good mystery. If we send him one of the dead birds packed in dry ice, he might tell us what is happening to your flock. If they are being poisoned somehow, having reputable proof might give us leverage with Tri-Materials.”
Penny seemed to like the idea. She produced the camera from a cabinet and a few minutes later, they were bouncing across the pasture in the ATV. It didn’t take long to find a victim.
“I’m going to hold the bird so my friend can get a perspective. You snap a few pictures,” Dusty said.
He bent and held the still-limp chicken, making sure his hand was positioned in a certain way while Penny snapped the photographs. “Take some of the surrounding pasture,” he added.
They returned to the house, and while Penny printed off the photos and wrote a letter, Dusty packed the plastic-wrapped, sealed corpse into a box. They added a few printed images and the note, and then she set off to town to purchase dry ice and make a stop at the post office.
“Send it next day so it doesn’t stink to high heaven when it gets there,” Dusty advised as she pulled out of the driveway.
“Mitch is going to kill me,” he chuckled as he watched her drive off.
Day Six
Agent Shultz didn’t like the hospital’s smell. Rather than elicit any impression of sterility, the aroma of disinfectant and floor wax seemed to heighten a foreboding sense in his consciousness.
It wasn’t any surprise that he associated his surroundings with the most negative context possible. There hadn’t been any chance to sleep for what seemed like days. The occasional fast food combo meal had kept his stomach from growling, but hadn’t provided proper nourishment for the sleuth’s body.
