Collision Course

by David Crawford

  “Shouldn’t we call the sheriff and let him get the car and the bodies?”

  “Does your phone work?”

  “Good point. But we could take the car to town and let the sheriff know what happened,” she said.

  The last thing DJ wanted to do was to go to the county seat that was out of his way and explain to some country bumpkin of a sheriff why he shot three men. He’d probably get his weapons confiscated until the mess could be sorted out. He could even end up in jail if the sheriff was unreasonable. He couldn’t risk it.

  “Look,” he said, “I’d like to go see the sheriff, but I don’t know what will happen if we do. This isn’t a normal time for anyone, and there’s no telling what he might think. He could end up throwing both of us in jail and putting your daughter in the foster care system. Those guys got what they deserved, but the way things are, it might be better that no one knows we were involved. Does that make sense to you?”

  DJ knew she’d agree with him the moment he mentioned foster care. He was well aware no woman could stand to be separated from her children. Her reaction was stronger than he’d expected, though. Her eyes widened and filled with fear at the suggestion. She nodded blankly in response to his question.

  “Do you know of a good place, not too close and not too far, where we could take the car?”

  She stared at him with glazed eyes for a moment. “What?”

  “Do you know a good place to dump the car?”

  “There’s an abandoned rock quarry about five miles from here,” she said.

  “That’s good.” He smiled, and she seemed to relax a little. “Do we have to pass any houses to get there?”

  “Just a few.”

  “Okay, we’ll wait until dark, then,” he said. “I’ll take it, set it on fire, and dump it. You can follow about five minutes behind in your car and pick me up.”

  “My car won’t run,” she said. “Someone drilled a hole in the gas tank and stole all my gas.”

  “Then we’ll have to take my quad,” he said. He hated to burn the fuel, but at the very least, he’d get to have the woman pressed up against him on the ride back. He could also kiss the idea of her giving him any gas good-bye. “You can drive the car, and I’ll bring you back.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sounding more grateful for this than she had sounded for his saving her life. DJ wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something more than what met the eye with this woman.

  “No problem,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you have a place where I could clean up and get some rest?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Anything you want. I can warm up some water and put it in the bathroom basin for you. Would that be all right?”

  “That would be excellent,” he replied.

  “I could fix you something to eat, too,” she said.

  DJ wasn’t that hungry, but something besides an MRE or freeze-dried food sounded good. “That would be great.”

  “What would you like?”

  “I’m sure anything you fix would be fit for a king.” He flashed his best smile again. The woman blushed slightly at the compliment. It was the reaction he’d hoped to see.

  “Okay, it’ll only take a few minutes to warm up the water,” she said.

  “I’ll go get some clean clothes,” he replied.

  DJ went to his four-wheeler to grab the duffel bag that held most of his clothes. Back inside the house, he stood silently as the woman put her finger into a pot of water every thirty seconds or so to test the temperature. After several tries, she declared the water ready and removed it from the stove. DJ followed her to the bathroom, where she poured the water into the sink.

  “Take your time,” she said. “Here’s a towel, a washcloth, and some soap. Don’t worry about getting the floor wet. I’ll clean it up once you’re through. If you need to use the toilet, you can flush by dumping water out of that bucket into the bowl. Do you need anything else?”

  DJ could only think of one thing, but he shook his head. Crystal closed the door behind her as she left.

  * * *

  Gabe seemed to shrink in size. His eyes glazed over, and Jane was instantly sorry for asking. “Gabe, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t want to talk about it, but somehow he felt compelled to do so. It was as if Jane was some sorceress who had him under a spell. He seemed powerless to deny her. “No,” he said, “it’s okay.” His voice quivered a little. He got quiet again, staring out the windshield, looking for an answer.

  “I know they were in a car wreck,” she said, trying to help him.

  “It was my fault,” he blurted out.

  “How could that be? Weren’t you at home?”

  “Yes, but I should have been with them. Hannah had promised Michael she’d take him to the movies. She asked me to go with them, but I was tired. On the way home, a truck driver fell asleep and crossed the median. Hannah died instantly, but Michael held on for a day and a half. If I’d only gone with them, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  Jane could see that he was almost crying. “Gabe, if you had gone, then you’d be dead, too.”

  “That’s what everybody says, but maybe we’d have been earlier or later, and the truck would have missed us. Maybe I could have reacted faster than Hannah did. If I’d gone, then Michael would’ve been in the backseat, and he might have lived.” The last few words were barely audible.

  Jane was at a loss for what to say. She reached over and placed her hand on Gabe’s upper arm. He recoiled, and she pulled her hand back, now even sorrier about asking the question. She’d thought he was the way he was because he missed them. She had no idea that he blamed himself, although it now made perfect sense. There were other questions she wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the time. Any healing was going to take much longer than she’d originally thought. The main thing now was not to let him fall back into his old pattern.

  When they were almost back to his place, she spoke again. “Gabe, why don’t you get the rifle and come show Robby how to shoot it? I’ll fix dinner while you’re working with him.”

  Gabe didn’t say anything. He sat gazing out the windshield, seeing nothing. He was reliving and remembering things he didn’t want to remember. They pulled into his driveway, and Jane stopped the truck. He made no move.

  “Gabe.”

  He didn’t answer, and she instinctively touched his shoulder and said his name again. The instant she did it, she remembered him pulling away the last time, and she was afraid he’d do it again, but he only jumped as if suddenly awakened.

  “What?”

  “Get the .22, and you can teach Robby to shoot while I fix dinner.”

  “Not now,” he said as he opened the door and climbed out of the truck.

  Jane got out and followed him up the steps. “Gabe, you’ve got to get over this guilt. I’m sorry for what happened, but you have to stop believing it was your fault.”

  He continued toward the door as if he didn’t hear her.

  She refused to let his action discourage her. “We need you, Gabe. Robby and I need your help if we’re going to get through this.”

  He stuck the key in the door and opened it.

  “You can ignore me all you want, Gabriel Horne, but I’m not going—”

  He shut the door. Damn her. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? How could he have been so stupid to let her into his business? Who did she think she was? This was his problem, and he knew exactly how to deal with it.

  * * *

  Jane drove home disappointed with herself. She’d pushed him too hard. Things had seemed to be going well. There had been a few road bumps, but he had surprised her a time or two, like today in the gun shop. Perhaps she’d read too much into those gestures, and he rea
lly wasn’t as ready as she thought.

  She wondered what she should do now as she pulled into her driveway. Robby must have heard the truck pull up, as he bolted out the door before she could even come to a complete stop. She knew he was waiting for news on the rifle.

  “Did you get it, Mom?” he said, almost out of breath with excitement.

  She sadly shook her head, and the happy look on his face melted as his shoulders slumped. His transformation broke her heart. She wanted to tell him about Gabe’s offer, but she didn’t know if that would really happen or not. She had to say something, though.

  “We only got to go to one place, and they didn’t have anything good. There are other places we can try. It just wasn’t possible today. Okay, sweetheart?”

  “Okay, Mom,” the boy said, painting on a weak smile.

  “Help me with this stuff, will you?” she said.

  As she looked into the back of the truck, she saw that Gabe had left his groceries. She thought about going back and giving them to him. It would give her an excuse to go down and talk to him again. She decided to wait until the morning. Perhaps he’d be in a better disposition by then. She hoped so.

  Once all the groceries were inside, Jane started dinner. She and Robby ate the fish he’d caught while she was in town. By the time the dishes were done, it was dark, and they went to bed.

  The sound of chickens squawking loudly woke her up. It was dark, and she didn’t know what time it was. It sounded as if a raccoon or possum was in the chicken house. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, it did happen from time to time. She got out of bed and pulled on her boots, tucking her flannel pajama bottoms inside the shafts. Grabbing a flashlight, she made her way to the back door. There she had a large garden hoe just for such occasions. She snatched the hoe, opened the door, and started toward one of the large coops. When she was almost there, its door burst open and two men carrying several flapping and screeching chickens appeared. Jane was so shocked that she dropped her flashlight. The two men stared at her for a split second and then spun and ran toward her back fence line.

  She was furious. She’d lost some fowl to predators in the past, but they had all been of the four-legged variety. Never had she considered that people would want to steal her chickens. She reached down, picked up the light, and shined it at the retreating thieves.

  “Drop those chickens or I’ll shoot!” she yelled. One of the men looked over his shoulder for a second, but he and his accomplice continued toward the fence as if they feared nothing. She was about to yell at them again when she saw an orange-yellow flash beyond the fence. An instant later, she felt the searing pain and heard the boom.

  CHAPTER 14

  As clean as he’d been in over a week, DJ took the time to shave, brush his teeth, and comb his hair. Putting on fresh clothes, he felt like a new man. He stepped out of the bathroom, and his mouth watered. The smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly. He walked to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Nancy was on her knees in a chair on the far side of the table, vigorously using crayons on a coloring book. When DJ sat down, she turned the book around.

  “Do you like my picture?” she said.

  DJ looked down and saw a blue dinosaur eating some orange trees. “I like it a lot,” he said, sneaking a peak at the backside of the cook. “That’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said. She beamed as she pulled the book back to her side of the table.

  “That sure smells good, Crystal,” DJ said.

  “It’s just chili.”

  “Well, that’s a lot better than what I’ve been eating.” DJ saw that the pantry was open and that the shelves were packed with food. “Did you just go to the store?”

  “No. I haven’t been for several weeks. Why?” she asked.

  “I just noticed that your pantry’s almost full.”

  “Well, the trucking business isn’t always steady work. Roger and I buy lots of food when he’s working, so we don’t have to worry if he doesn’t have any jobs for a while.”

  “That’s pretty smart.”

  “Just practical,” she said.

  A minute later, she set a steaming bowl in front of DJ. He leaned over it and took a big sniff. His face broke into a smile, and the woman seemed pleased. It didn’t take long for him to devour the bowl of chili, and Crystal refilled it for him. He took more time finishing the second helping. When he was done, he pushed the bowl away and leaned back in the chair. Patting his stomach, he smiled. “That might be the best chili I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re just saying that,” Crystal said, “but I appreciate it. I can see you’re tired. Would you like to take a nap?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “The guest room is the door just past the bathroom. There are extra pillows and blankets in the closet. You make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you, Crystal.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do after what you did for us.”

  DJ agreed. It was the least she could do. He made his way to the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

  * * *

  Gabe was well on his way to feeling no pain. The bottle was almost a third empty, and the anger he’d felt had subsided in proportion to the level of liquid in it. As he poured another glass, he heard pounding on his door.

  “Mr. Horne! Mr. Horne! My mom’s been shot!” Robby yelled.

  Gabe sprang to his feet and ran to the door. Pulling it open, he saw Robby breathing hard.

  “What happened?” Gabe demanded.

  “Someone was stealing chickens, and Mom tried to stop them, and they shot her,” Robby said, tears streaming down his face.

  “Is she okay?” Gabe asked, immediately realizing that it was a stupid question. “Where did she get hit?”

  “In the leg.” Robby touched his thigh about eight inches above his knee. “She says she’s okay, but there’s a lot of blood.”

  “Wait right here,” Gabe said as he spun and headed for the bathroom. He prayed the bullet hadn’t hit the main artery in the leg. If it had, Jane would be dead by the time they got back to her. Gabe noticed a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t felt for a long time. He opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out the tackle-box-sized first aid kit Hannah had assembled when they’d first moved to the country. Walking back to Robby, he wished he hadn’t had so much to drink tonight. He felt as though he was forgetting something, but there was no time to stand around and wonder what it might be. “Let’s go.”

  They ran to Jane’s truck, and Robby drove quickly down the road to his house. Gabe thought he should make himself puke whatever alcohol was still in his stomach before it made its way into his bloodstream, but he didn’t want to do it in front of the boy. When Robby stopped the truck in front of the house, he reached for the door handle. Gabe grabbed the boy’s arm. “Robby, I want you to stay in the truck until I come to get you.”

  “No way. I have to help my mom.”

  “Robby, please. Just wait here for a minute. I’ll be right back to get you,” Gabe said with the most authority he could muster. He tried to think of a reason to give the boy that wouldn’t scare him to death. “I want you to stay in the truck, so that, just in case the bad guys are still around or something, you can go get more help. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, or if I’m not back in three minutes, I want you to take off.”

  “All right, Mr. Horne, but you better come right back.”

  Gabe opened his door and ran into the house. “Jane! Jane, can you hear me?”

  “I’m in here, Gabe.”

  Gabe was relieved to hear her voice. “Where?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Gabe dashed into the kitchen. The room was barely lit by a single candle. Gabe rushed over to Jane. She was holding a blood-soaked dishrag around her leg.r />
  “Let me see,” Gabe said as calmly as he could.

  She pulled the towel away from her leg. Blood was oozing from both the top and bottom of the outside of her thigh. Gabe was thankful there was no spurt. He remembered reading that the big arteries were on the inside of the thighs. He took her hands in his and placed them back where they held the small towel tightly around her leg. “I promised I’d get Robby as soon as I checked on you. Will you be all right for a minute?”

  Jane nodded, and Gabe went back out the front door. The boy was slumped over the steering wheel, his body quivering. “Robby?” Gabe called.

  The boy sat up and was out of the truck in an instant. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s gonna be fine, son,” Gabe said as reassuringly as he could. “I need more light. Do you have a big flashlight or a lantern?”

  “We have both.”

  “Go get them for me.”

  Robby ran into the house. Gabe went to the far side of the driveway and bent over. He stuck his finger down his throat and gagged, but nothing happened. He had to do it three more times before the contents of his stomach took the wrong trip. Once it started, Gabe wasn’t sure that it would ever end. The alcohol burned much more coming up than it had going down. Finally it was over, and he made his way back to the kitchen.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked Jane. He noticed that her face appeared pale, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the bleeding or from the flickering light of the candle.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “I need a drink of water,” he told her.

  If she knew why, she didn’t give any indication. “The glasses are in the first cupboard.”

  Gabe filled the cup and took a small sip. He swished it around in his mouth and spat it down the drain. Then he pulled a long drink out of the mug, and it quenched the fire in his esophagus.

  “You should be lying down,” he said, putting the cup in the sink.

  “I don’t want to get blood on the furniture,” she said.