“Where do you stay?” Tina asked around a mouthful of stroganoff.
“In my van,” the guy admitted. “It’s not often I run across any van lifers out here. I’m really sorry.”
I waved that off. “Van lifers. You’ve mentioned that before, what is it?”
“It’s… Huh, maybe you aren’t. I thought you were. Basically, it’s people who live out of their vans. It’s technically homeless, but more like camping in a really small RV.”
Tina caught my gaze and grinned. “I mean, you’re all equipped for it here. If you didn’t have the crib and the bench seat you could probably set you up with a small office inside there, work digitally.”
Again I caught her grin and tried not to roll my eyes. She’d catch it with the rising sun, and I’d be dead meat.
“So the van people are all digital nomads?” Tina asked.
“More like… hobos than nomads. We go where the work is. At national parks like this, we can stay for free and there’s often wash stations, bathrooms and, if you know what you’re doing, free food.”
“Except you’ve lately resorted to stealing…”
“My van broke down,” he told me. “I’ve been stuck out here for a week and a half. Without a way to charge my phone the choice is walking into town in some really beat-up shoes, or take the easy way out…”
I admired his candor, but it made me wonder how much trust I should give the guy. If he could drive around, he was sort of all set, but he couldn’t do much more than the initial five-mile radius of the middle of nowhere, where we were at.
“Rick is pretty handy with engines. How about when the sun comes up you show us where your camp is and we’ll see what we can do.”
“Are… seriously?”
“Sure,” I told him, watching as Opus stared up at the trees.
12
Rick
Fixing the van was actually something I could do. Turned out, his battery had died and the voltage on his alternator was barely in the acceptable range. I got his van jumped and slipped him a couple big bills to go buy a new alternator when Tina wasn’t looking. Then I gave him a box of long-term storage food and we headed out soon after 8 a.m. Owen never woke up for that but definitely did about midway through the day when we finally stopped.
“Are we there yet?” Tina asked, looking around.
“Almost,” I told her.
“What are you thinking?” Tina asked me suddenly as I stopped at a gas station.
“Roy,” I admitted.
“His story is a little sad.”
“Actually, I was going to use him in a book,” I admitted.
“What?” Tina asked me suddenly.
“Homeless, living off the land, fishing for food, harvesting wild edibles in the national forest. Hunting, trapping…”
“The kind who lived for fun before you and I…”
“Yeah,” I told her. “We still do, but I just do it with more style and panache.”
“Panache? Is that a word? I’m going to look that up,” Tina said, pulling her phone out.
“You good back there, little man?” I asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
Tina had mounted a mirror to the back of the seat so even though Owen was facing backward, he could look to the front and see me via my mirror. It was a convoluted idea, but it worked really well.
“Hi, Dayee!” Owen said, “I out?”
“I don’t know; I’m getting some gas, ask your mom.”
“Out?” he asked as I stepped out of the van and shut the door.
My van was a late 90s Dodge. It got about eight to ten miles to the gallon and could pull a house off its foundation with the torque the motor produced. I kept it well maintained and babied it, but now was the part I dreaded. I slid my card in and, when it clicked off at the $100 point, I waited, then slid the card back in and finished filling it up. See, War Wagon had two tanks and I always expected that, and while driving this beast cross country was fun and comfortable, it took so long to fill it up I almost wondered if it’d be better to have driven the big RV.
“You want to grab us some Cokes and snacks while I change Owen?”
“You want to grab pops and snacks and I can do the diaper for once?” I asked her back.
“I love you,” Tina said sweetly and then bounded out of the van just as the pump kicked off.
I stretched, then opened the side door of the van. Ophelia got me first, then Sarge. Both had been waiting at the side door, ready to slobber on me.
“Oh man,” I said, wiping my face.
Ophelia looked especially pleased with herself. For a while, she had jealously guarded me from everyone, including Opus and her own pup, but she was relaxing a bit.
“Move over, I have to change a stinky. Sit on my seat!”
Both dogs didn’t have to be asked twice. Opus looked over the car seat at me and yawned. I got Owen out of the harness, then pulled the diaper bag to me. I laid him down on the bench where Ophelia usually sat when we all rode together and did my husbandly duty, hoping it would win me some points for later on when we were at the hotel and dog-less. I was considering getting a two bedroom or adjoining rooms or…
“Uggg, that smells,” Tina said, surprising me as I was finishing getting him buttoned back up.
“Yeah, you want the extra safe toxic waste disposal bags?” I asked her.
“Naw, just going to toss it here,” she said, putting it in the trash bin next to the fueling station. “I’ve got candy bars, beef jerky, some meat sticks and a bunch of pops to put in the cooler.”
“I’ll take some jerky and a Coke Zero,” I told her.
She snickered, having already guessed what I was going to get. I put Owen back in his seat and although he wasn’t too happy about it, I sat in the van with him while Tina let the big dogs out to go to the bathroom. She put the mandatory leashes on them, and I watched as people stopped to stare. Opus was by far the largest of the three and was getting the most attention. We were used to that.
“Oppy, Offee, Barge!” Owen exclaimed, pointing point the side window.
“Opus, Ophelia, and Sarge,” I agreed, then looked to where he was pointing.
Two of the three dogs were standing near a tree looking up. It was the boys. I had to grin. If Opus ever caught another squirrel I’d be surprised. That had to have been a one in a million shot, because he and his son were staring intently into a palm tree near the grassed in area. I finished the buckles and five-point harness long before Tina had finished, so I closed up the van and got it started to let the air run. I marveled at how just a day and a half previously I had thought winter was upon us and here in sunny, stormy Florida, it was in the seventies.
“We’re going to go do a Mommy and doggy pickup,” I told my son through the rearview mirror.
“Mama!”
Tina must have heard the motor fire up and looked over, but Ophelia was pulling her lead so she could use the restroom in a spot not occupied by the other dogs. I pulled next to them and when she was ready, Tina walked over and opened the side door, letting the fuzz butts inside after taking off the leashes.
“Go ahead and get up front,” Tina told the dogs.
I saw Opus take his spot right behind me, but both Sarge and Ophelia scrambled for Tina’s seat as she slammed the door closed and took the bench seat next to Owen.
“I promised them,” she told me by way of explanation. “Hey, I heard a tropical storm might be coming through here in a few days or so.”
“Good thing we’re going on a seven day cruise,” I shot back. “Did they say if they expected it to turn into a hurricane?” I asked, remembering how Irma had devastated the coasts of Florida.
“They didn’t say anything like that, but they did say to expect rain and wind.”
“We’re from Michigan, we’re used to a little rain and wind,” I told her, but secretly felt slightly uneasy.
The hotel was nice. Not in the way a Howard Johnson in Michigan is nice, this was almost mind-blowi
ng nice the way my first luxurious hotel in Utah was nice. Because I was a penny pincher at heart, I’d avoided places like this, but not this time. Since we’d made better time than I had thought, we had the dilemma of figuring out what to do with the dogs. It wasn’t like when Annette was at the hospital with Bud and we’d slept in the van. Here, we risked cooking them in the dark colored vehicle without the air running. I was discussing the dilemma with Tina when the check-in clerk, Gloria, heard our problems.
“We do have pet-friendly suites available, I can check and see if there are any available?” Gloria asked us.
“That would actually be amazing,” Tina said, wrapping one arm around me with a hot, sweaty, smelly, cranky Owen on her arm.
“Ok… Let me see,” she said, tapping on her keyboard.
Brown hair, Hispanic heritage somewhere in there, but her accent wasn’t what I was expecting. It sounded like she was from Kentucky somewhere. I took in her features the way I’d started to, memorizing her so I could later use her in a story somewhere. Maybe as a foil or a bad guy in this new post-apocalyptic book I’m writing.
“What kind of dog?” she asked without looking up.
“German Shepherds,” Tina answered.
She looked up, “How many?”
“Three,” I answered.
“Bree, Dayee! Dayee, bree!”
“Yes, Daddy said three,” Tina said, bouncing him.
“Three German Shepherds…”
“Two are service animals, the third is in training. Actually, Opus is nearing retirement,” I told her, “Vacation for all of us.”
“Ok, let me see… Just a moment…”
“Sure,” I said, feeling like the size and number of dogs was suddenly going to be a problem.
It was something we’d run into before, especially since we’d gotten Ophelia and she’d had a litter of pups. They were family to us and we knew what to expect from them. It just seemed that there was a stigma with large dogs; people were afraid. They only had to worry if they tried to hurt one of us… other than that, there wasn’t a problem. A moment later, a man came out from behind the doors with Gloria and approached us. I saw his name was Clint, and my heart dropped a bit when I read ‘Manager’.
“Hi, I’m Clint. Usually we allow two dogs per guest. In the case of service dogs, we count them as another family member. I’m just curious if I can meet this trio before you guys head upstairs?”
“Sure,” Tina said, giving him the 10,000 watt smile.
“It’s not usually company policy to ask… but I was a handler in the Marines. It’s been a long time and… I have a soft spot for Shepherds.”
I took in his features. Mid-forties, clean shaven. A scar on one side of his cheek, and underneath the collar of his button-up shirt I could make out the colors of an artful tattoo. I looked at his wrists and sure enough, one of the sleeves was pushed up slightly where what looked like the tail of a dragon stuck out. His hair was close cropped, but I could tell he had some ink under the hairline as well. Covered. I don’t know why, but I immediately liked him.
“Sure,” I took Owen. “You, sir, are getting a clean butt and a shower,” I told the squirming toddler.
“Down, me down?” he asked.
“If I do, you better not run off. I’ll have to get Opus to fetch you,” I told him, putting him down.
“Oppy no get,” Owen said and then held onto my pants leg, realizing how many people were in line behind us and got the sudden case of the shies.
“Oh wow,” Clint said, looking over my shoulder.
Tina had my set of keys in her hand, her other hand held three leashes loose. I realized with dawning horror they weren’t leashed. A fancy hotel like this would never… The automatic door opened and Tina walked exactly two steps behind them, murmuring something then giving a command. They all sat as if at attention.
“Oh man,” Clint said, coming around the counter. “You work with them much?” he asked her.
“Opus here is a certified therapy dog, Ophelia’s got the papers, but she’s about four now. The guy who looks like his paws are as big as his head is Sarge, he’s got a bit of growing to do.”
Clint walked over and I heard Gloria murmur something under her breath in an uneasy voice. I watched, smiling and feeling that Owen hadn’t let go. Clint knelt in front of the three of them and took them in one by one. Then he stood up and looked over Opus who was on the far left. He walked around half way then got in front of him and knelt again.
“You’re a soldier,” Clint told him.
Opus chuffed and put a paw down in front of his other one then pulled it back, a motion I hadn’t seen in a while.
Clint muttered something that resembled the commands that Tina used and I hadn’t learned yet. Opus went tense, his head cocked to the side. A low growl emitted from his throat.
“Not a good idea,” Tina told him, “his working commands are a combination of German and Hungarian, and not the usual formats either. Give him the wrong ones, he might think you’re trying to trick him.”
Clint hadn’t moved his ground, but instead offered up his hand, “Sorry, bud, I was just asking,” he finished in English.
“Is he…?” Gloria asked me.
“He’s fine,” I told her. “Opus is vocal; that wasn’t really a growl, that was him telling your boss no.”
“What did he ask him?” she whispered back.
“Nothing much,” Tina said. “Fetch is what I think the direct translation was.”
“Yup,” Clint said, standing up sheepishly, “He sits a little off set. Bad hip?”
“Old gunshot wound,” Tina answered before I could. “He’s also eight.”
“Not just a soldier, but an old vet. You, sir, are very well mannered and the rest of you are well behaved. I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”
Ophelia let out a whine, and Clint put his hand out in front of her to sniff. She leaned in, and that was when Sarge’s patience ran out. He broke his stay command and walked over, his tail wagging so hard it was almost making his whole butt sway. Tina let out a frustrated sigh and gave me a grin.
“Owen’s Barge!” Owen let go of my leg and toddled over and put his arms around Sarge.
Clint watched, suddenly nervous as Owen hung his weight off Sarge’s shoulders and neck. He stood there and turned his head to start licking my son. He started shrieking in laughter making people around us look over at the commotion. Owen fell on his diapered butt in giggles, and Sarge put a paw on his chest and continued giving him a bath.
“They usually—”
“There’s nothing usual about our dogs,” I told him. “They’ve literally saved our lives.” I grinned, not facing him but watching my two big boys give Owen a spit bath.
The rest of the people around us had noticed. They seemed alarmed at first, but saw how the dogs were doting on him and his laughter was shrill but full throated and genuine.
“You guys have a nice day! If you want, later on tonight at the beach I’ve got my Coco girl. We play frisbee—”
Opus barked once, his entire body moving to the rhythm of his tail.
“That sounds like an enthusiastic yes to me,” Clint told us.
Ophelia looked at Tina, who murmured something, and the other two dogs who had been sitting still got up and pushed their noses in Clint’s hands. He gave them some pets, and I scooped Owen up. He suddenly was trying to swing a leg over Sarge’s back. Sarge, for the most part, was just sitting there taking it, but he gave me the look. The ‘help me, I don’t want to be a dufus and hurt the baby by accident’ look.
“Ride?” Owen asked, pointing down.
“No, we don’t ride the dogs,” I told him.
“Your key, and the Wi-Fi password is written on the side.”
“Perfect,” I told her.
Owen ate part of a hamburger patty and all of the fries I’d ordered up from room service, drank a bottle, and crashed hard. It was almost 8:30pm, so it wasn’t horribly early. I had been trying to
work for the last twenty minutes, but my lap was occupied by Ophelia. She’d been sharing me for so long, that with Tina, Opus, and Sarge out playing in the sand, she didn’t want me to move off the couch. The front of her body and her head was in my lap, her feet hanging off the side. For a moment I thought she’d fallen asleep and tried to scoot, but she woke up and wiggled further onto my lap.
“I want to check on your mom,” I told her.
She grumbled a bit, so I scratched her ears until her grumbles turned into groans.
“I have to work also,” I told her.
She scooted even further. I reached over and snagged my laptop bag and pulled it close. I’d packed my Surface Pro as well as my regular laptop. The Surface Pro was an amazing device though. It had all the features of a laptop, but it was the size of a large tablet. It was an amazing machine, if a little hot when in use heavily. It featured a solid state hard drive and more RAM than a writer would ever need, but it had my Dragon files and transcriptions on it as soon as I synced it up.
I booted it and turned the TV on. The news was talking about the tropical depression. Tina had told me tropical storm. I felt a little less worried than I had before. Then I checked the time for the third or fourth time in the last ten minutes and started working.
13
Opus
His shoulder was sore, but in a good way. He’d gotten to take his human and his pup out on the sand for a good chase and run. They had been without their usual exercise for a few days, and it made him grumpy and sore. The air smelled different here than it did back at the house. He could smell something salty and there was almost a fishy smell in the air, like the fishing hole where his human Rick had the big moving house.
All of his humans were sleeping. He wasn’t though, he’d slept too much in the van and was now in that half awake state but couldn’t quite sleep. His mate and pup were sprawled out on the couch. On padded feet, he pushed the bedroom door open. It didn’t creak like the ones back home did. He walked quietly over and sniffed the sleeping human child. He smelled like soap, his breath stank of French fries and milk, and he snored softly. Then he crept over to see his human, Rick, had fallen asleep with one arm hanging off the bed. He put his nose on the arm, then licked it.
One Man's Opus (Book 3): Opus Adventure Page 7
