2 Minutes to Midnight

by Steve Lang

  “Good tune,” said Jefe.

  Both men nodded and got out of the truck.

  “Looks like we go on foot from here, Alex,” said Jefe.

  The large man produced a machete from the bed of his truck and led the way.

  “I’ll just follow the music.” Jefe said.

  The two walked on as songs continued to play through the day. Around noon they entered a small village.

  “I know the villagers, so we should be able to find out if they saw your wife, and we can sleep here for the night.” Jefe said.

  “You don’t want to keep going?” Alex asked.

  Jefe cocked his head to the side.

  “We might be able to make it to the next village before dark, but it’s several hours walk and I don’t want to be stuck out there at night. Let’s see what they know.” Jefe said.

  Jefe and Alex were welcomed warmly into the village, given food and traded tales around the fire that night.

  “Did you see a woman come through here recently? Alex is looking for her, she’s his wife.” Jefe said.

  There was some discussion between the men in their native tongue, but Alex did not speak conversational Spanish, so he had to rely on the bits and pieces he did understand.

  “Some of the men saw a white woman with blond hair passing this way a week or so ago with Carlos, a known guide from the city.” One man said.

  “Yes, and Carlos came back through a few days later and she was not with him. He told us she fell, and vanished.” Said the chief, in English.

  “I can’t go back without her.” Alex said.

  “We will pray for you on your journey. I hope you find your wife, Alex.” The chief smiled.

  “Here, drink this. It’s chicha.” Said a man to Alex’s right. A man from the village handed Alex a bottle full of a pale, straw colored liquid.

  “What’s in it?”

  “It’s fermented corn beer. It won’t really get you drunk, but it’ll take the edge off.” The man grinned. Not wanting to offend his new friends, Alex drank from the ancient looking bottle. He took one swig and then another as the man clapped him on the shoulder.

  “We’ll get started again in the morning. Until then, you might want to turn that radio off,” said Jefe.

  As if it had heard Jefe, the little transistor radio faded to silence as Alex and Jefe stared wide-eyed.

  “You better be careful with that thing. Some of these tribes still believe in witchcraft, and your radio might make them nervous,” said Jefe.

  “I just hope we find Angela before that happens. I know she’s not far,” said Alex.

  A hut was loaned to them for the night and both men passed out before their heads hit the pillow. Alex dreamed of Angela lying still and peaceful in bed with a bandage wrapped around her head. She had been hit by something or someone. A young girl sat by her bed keeping watch as Alex drifted closer to his sleeping wife, and Alex saw a smile cross her face.

  Alex and Jefe were sweating and hiking through the jungle again by first light and by noon they had located the Nocivo Trail where she had been reported lost. The temperature and humidity were miserable for Alex, but the incessant bugs buzzing around his face were even worse. He could not wait to get home, or at least someplace with an air conditioner and ice-cold beer. They hiked up and found the spot where Angela fell. A woman’s hiking boot was sitting next to a steep drop. The two of them could smell smoke through the dense tree cover. Somebody was cooking fish nearby. They looked over the edge and Angela’s radio suddenly began to blare That’s the Way I Like It by KC and the Sunshine Band. Alex laughed.

  The two backtracked to the place where she had fallen and began walking east while Angela’s signal became stronger and the music got louder. A twenty minute walk later Alex and Jefe walked into another village where there was an immediate stir from the villagers. A frail, older woman shambled over to the two outsiders waving her hands frantically. She was saying something in Spanish to Jefe, and waving them toward her.

  “She says there is a white woman in her home with a bad head injury. They’ve been caring for her while she sleeps. She wants to know if the woman is yours,” said Jefe.

  Alex felt his heart race, and quickened his pace as he followed the old woman to her home. She smiled warmly, through a mouth with few remaining teeth, at Alex and pointed to a room on the right. It was Angela. He entered the room, quiet as a church mouse, so as not to disturb her. Angela lay soft and still in her bed as Alex approached, and for the first time in a week her eyes opened. For a moment there was silence.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “You would not believe how long it takes to get out here.” Alex said.

  “Glad you got my message.”

  Alex knelt down beside Angela, took her hand in his, and kissed her fingers.

  “I was dreaming about you,” she said .

  “Your guide said you had vanished, but he turned your backpack in to the police. I just can’t figure out how they only sent your little radio back and not the entire pack. You ready to spend the rest of your stay in Bolivia getting room service?” Alex asked.

  “Yes, I am, and maybe a brain scan. I’d also like something to kill this pounding headache.” Angela smiled.

  “Your radio is going with us everywhere from now on, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Alex said.

  The three thanked the villagers for their kindness, and once a suitable stretcher could be constructed, Jefe and Alex carried Angela back through the jungle to his truck. Alex and Angela traveled the globe together as partners from then on and for the rest of their lives. Although they carried the transistor radio with them on every trip, it never functioned again, with batteries, or without.

  the ducks

  Two men and a weekend trip to party in the woods. What could go wrong?

  Dan Stratford, and Jake West had decided that they needed to get away from suburbia for the weekend, so the two planned an escape to Jake’s property in the swampland of South Carolina. Spring was giving way to summer, and the swarming bugs would not be too bad yet, so this was a perfect time to disappear into the woods. Friday afternoon Jake loaded the car with his game console and two cases of beer that would easily last them a few days. After hitting the grocery store for supplies and munchie food for the weekend, he had fully stocked them for some excellent chill time far away from society. Jake pulled up to Dan’s house around five p.m., and the two began their journey south.

  “You’re wife do much bitchin’ about the trip? Jake asked.

  “Nah. To be honest, I think Melinda’s happy for the break. Told me to have fun, but leave the hookers alone,” replied Dan.

  “Where we gonna’ get some hookers who want to trek out to the swamp?” Jake laughed.

  “You never know, with the right amount of cash almost anyone can get adventurous.”

  “Ha ha, yeah. This weekend is all about stonin’ and chillin’ anyway. I need to get the hell out of town and that cabin rocks, brother!” Dan said.

  “Agreed!” They bumped fists. “The sooner we get there the quicker this party gets started.”

  It was a two hour drive and the sun had begun to set, which would make finding the almost hidden dirt road to Jake’s cabin that much more difficult to spot. They stopped at a The Little Red Barn roadside convenience store to get some last minute provisions. The pimple-faced clerk working the counter wore a Lamb of God shirt, sported a peach fuzz Van Dyke beard, and was reading a Guardians of The Galaxy comic book. He looked up from his studies long enough to acknowledge Jake and Dan.

  “Welcome to The Barn, fella’s.”

  “Good evening, my man!” Jake grinned. The two began a mad grab for every unhealthy snack they could find in the store.

  “We need potato chips, beef jerky, and here’s some donuts for breakfast, or…whenever.” Jake said. His arms were getting full.

  “You can lay that stuff up here if you want to guys.” The clerk said. He went back to reading.
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  “Make sure you get some Philly cigars, or Swisher Sweets, we gotta’ roll some blunts, dude!” Dan blurted.

  “Why don’t you just make that public information, dumb ass!” Jake whispered. The attendant looked up for a moment, shook his head, smiled, and looked back at the comic.

  After racking up sizable bill they checked out, and were back on their quest for the ultimate buzz. About two miles down the road Dan they began looking for the almost hidden turn. Jutting diagonally out of the weeds was a dilapidated mailbox constructed from a couple of four by four posts bolted together in a cross, and an old coffee can painted black, nailed to them.

  “That’s it!” Jake cried.

  If either of them had blinked they would have missed the turn. Dan suddenly hit the brakes and skidded to a stop.

  “Jesus, dude! Are you trying to kill us?” Jake barked.

  “Sorry man, the damned thing just popped up.” He turned right, and that’s when the boys entered the twilight zone.

  The car bumped and jolted down the mile long road to Jake’s cabin as creatures of the night whistled, chirped, and buzzed along unseen.

  “I love coming out here, Jake, but it’s spooky as hell driving down this road at night. We are in BFE.” Dan said.

  He shivered involuntarily as he stared out into the blackness.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. My family’s had this land for over a hundred years and even though I know every inch of it, I still feel like I’m on an alien planet at night out here,” said Jake.

  Ahead of them they could see the log cabin appear as Dan’s headlights illuminated the old family haunt. The cabin, which was more like a shack, had been constructed with wood siding and shingles, and although Jake’s dad had put new wood siding on, that had been twenty years ago when Jake was a kid. His father passed on five years ago, and although Jake was now the owner, his neglect of the property was apparent. Large weeds had overtaken the front porch, long cracks split through old wooden siding, and the wood shingles were falling off the roof in places.

  “Here we are. Let’s get the stuff inside and pop a few warm ones.” Jake smiled.

  “Ugh, I hate warm beer,” said Dan

  “Look in the glove compartment, killer. What I brought is going to make one warm beer irrelevant. Besides, once we get em’ in the fridge you won’t have to worry about warm beer for the rest of the weekend,” said Jake.

  Dan opened the glove box and was immediately greeted by the pungent aroma of incredibly potent marijuana.

  “Oh man, what is this? Ha hah! You sneaky mutha…” Dan grinned.

  “Say goodbye to reality, my friend. The guy I got this from said this strain of bud is so strong that he hallucinated the first time he smoked it, and this dude is a habitual stoner,” said Jake.

  “Awesome! OK, well, let the games begin.” Dan was grinning like the town fool.

  The two got settled in, cracked a couple beers, and proceeded to get stoned beyond the normal limits of reason. The cabin had an outhouse and no running water, but thanks to solar panels and a closet full of batteries wired in series they did have working electricity.

  “You mind coming with me to inspect the outhouse, man?” Jake asked.

  “Dark gotcha’ scared?” Dan replied.

  “No, but you never know what you’re going to find in there and I need you to hold the light while I hold the baseball bat,” said Jake.

  Dan was sitting on the ratty cabin couch allowing it to absorb him when Jake made his request.

  “Look man, ain’t shit out there gonna’ get you. Just go, and get back so we can hook up the game system.” Dan chugged a beer, and waved a hand at Jake.

  “I’m not going out there in the dark to an uninspected outhouse by myself, bro. I’m high as balls. There’s more than just frogs out in the woods at night. We got wild pigs out here, too. Som’ bitches are mean, and I gotta’ go poop.”

  “Alright, alright! I’m coming, but I did not need to know that last little bit.” Dan felt the gravity of his buzz suck him back down, but he fought it and stood. “Let’s go see the boogey man together.”

  “Ha ha…very funny” Jake shook his head.

  Crickets chirped noisily as the two left the relative safety of Jake’s one bedroom cabin and walked ten feet to the outdoor toilet. The door hung open an inch or two creaking on its hinges as they approached.

  “You hear that, man?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah, something moved in there.”

  Dan held a battery powered lantern that swayed as he walked, casting shadows on the outhouse. It seemed to breathe in and out, making the ordeal that much more unnerving.

  “Dude, you ready with the bat?” Dan asked. He held the lantern out like a shield.

  “Let’s do it. This weed is making me paranoid.” Dan kicked the door open and nearly fell over backward as an angry raccoon dashed out of the opening, chittering at them at it disappeared into the darkness. Jake had no time to react and stood like a statue holding the bat over his head.

  “Did you just see that?!” Dan yelled.

  “I told you man, this place requires the buddy system!” Jake replied.

  “Holy crap, that was crazy! You think maybe we interrupted him takin’ a dump?” Dan laughed.

  “I dunno, but he sure looked pissed.”

  For the rest of the night the boys played video games, drank lukewarm beer, and paid homage to the reefer gods. Jake crashed on the bed and Dan took the uncomfortable green seventies style couch, neither option was a home away from home, but it was a place to sleep. The next morning, Dan was up first, and his back felt like a car had been parked on it all night.

  “Damned couch.” He walked outside holding his sore back.

  While he relieved his full bladder into the weeds, Dan spotted noticed something odd in the middle of the small lake. Its bank was fifty feet from the cabin and had been a family fishing spot since the cabin was built.

  “Probably just driftwood or something.” Dan said to himself. His eyes were still adjusting to the new day after loading his brain with chemicals the night before, and he went back inside.

  “You’re up early. Sleep well?” Jake laughed.

  “Yeah, just great. That couch sucks, even stoned.”

  “Fire up Call of Duty and let’s get rollin’.” Jake said.

  “Good idea, bring me a beer. I’m thirsty as hell.”

  Jake threw Dan a cold one and walked out to empty his bladder, leaving the door open behind him.

  “Watch out man! Don’t step in piss…” Dan was powering up the console, chuckling a little.

  “Yo dude, you see those ducks out there on the lake?” Jake hollered over his shoulder.

  “Pretty damn cool,” he mumbled.

  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and walked down the bank where he could clearly see that there were three ducks sitting motionless on the water.

  “They’re just sitting there. You ever see ducks on this lake before?” Dan asked.

  “Never, but then again, I haven’t been up here in a few years. Maybe a family of them moved in or something.” Jake replied.

  “They just sit there, must be sleeping?”

  “OK, well whatever. Let’s eat. I brought the hot plate and we have eggs and bacon for breakfast.” Jake said.

  Dan produced a pre-rolled joint from a little cigarette box in his pocket and the two proceeded to get baked. After stuffing themselves on eggs, bacon, and now very cold beer, Dan wandered down to the bank to see if the ducks were still there.

  “Dude, I think they’ve come closer to shore!” He shouted.

  “Ignore the ducks, dude! Call of Duty awaits, and we ain’t got no interwebz out here so, you’re all I got to shoot at. Get in here!”

  Dan reluctantly walked back inside giving a final, suspicious, cursory glance to the immobile waterfowl. The two of them spent their morning and afternoon chasing each other around various battlefield maps, wishing they had an internet connection to play online.


  “Man, I am baked. You got anything besides Call of Duty? How about something that’s not a first person shooter?” Dan asked.

  “I have some others over there in the duffel bag. Grab Outland. It’s a solo, but I think I’m all video gamed out right now.” Jake laid down his controller.

  Dan walked over to where the bag lay and removed Outland from its case. He looked out the window and saw that the three ducks were less than five feet from shore.

  “This is tripping me out, bro. What do you think they are? Zombie ducks?” Dan asked.

  “Seriously, man? You’re hallucinating. I think my boy was right about this dope.”

  Nothing moved on the water. Not a head, a wing, no ripples on the water. They were just there.

  “Dude, there they are almost in the yard. Let’s go check it out!” Dan yelled.

  “I’m about sick of you and those damned ducks, Dan!” Jake yelled, and joined Dan outside, hands on his hips.

  “You’re right, they are closer.” Jake was legitimately surprised.

  “What do you think they want?” Dan asked.

  “I have no idea, but why would they want anything, besides food? They’re ducks, bro! Do we have any bread we can toss at them?”

  “I’m going down there; bring the bat in case they try something.” Dan said.

  Jake laughed, but he was beginning to get nervous. Why would they just sit there, not moving? Dan was freaking him out, and the large amount of pot they had both inhaled not only made him paranoid, but he was pretty sure that he himself had been hallucinating for over thirty minutes. The two walked slowly toward the still, dark, lake water. Trees reflected off the murky surface making it seem like a forest of tall pines was lying flat on the lake. The closer they crept; Dan was looking over his shoulder for assurance that his friend would help him take care of business if this all went south. His heart beat loudly in his ears, and he began to feel silly that he was afraid of a bunch of stupid ducks. He was now two feet from them, and standing in the water up to his ankles, Jake right behind holding the bat, like a mugger was about to jump out at them. There was another tense moment and then the water exploded like a bomb, as three alligators that had been waiting with patience for the two men to come closer sprung forward in a tornado of prehistoric teeth and muscle. It was over in minutes. Dan and Jake were dragged lifeless into the lake and never seen or heard from again.