“You’re lying, but I forgive you for it. I’m glad you didn’t get into a shootout.”
Mark leaned down and gave Tina a kiss. “Oh dear,” gasped Tiffany, who was out on the front porch. “Larry isn’t going to like that.”
“Who gives a damn what Larry thinks,” shouted Tina. “I’m divorcing him!”
“Touchy-touchy,” replied Tiffany.
“Tiffany is going to divorce Jumbo, too,” hollered Gadget. “And we’re gonna get married!”
Mark turned to face Gadget, but when he turned, he saw Jumbo and Larry. They had just emerged from the woods and it was obvious that they had both heard what had been said. “Oh my God,” groaned Tina.
“Oh shit,” said Mark. “Get into the house. Let me handle this.”
Tina nodded and scampered back down the driveway. She quickly disappeared into the house. Tiffany and Gadget still stood on the porch. They had no idea that Jumbo and Larry were now charging up behind them. Mark could see by the look on Jumbo’s face that he was not amused. He had no idea what Larry was thinking, but from the look on his face, it wasn’t good. Mark braced himself for an ugly confrontation. Jumbo was the first to round the corner. He pointed a finger at Tiffany. “Like hell you are,” he bellowed. “You’re coming with me!”
“Where’s Tina?” shouted Larry. “Tina!”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” said Mark. “You told her that you didn’t want her around.”
“Don’t go twisting my words, damn you! You weren’t there, how could you know what I said? We had a fight, okay? Married people have them, all the time. I love that woman! Get your damn nose out of our business!”
Mark slung the rifle over his shoulder and stood his ground. Jumbo was already on the porch, leading Tiffany away by the arm. He suddenly stopped and pointed to their driveway. “What the hell happened?”
“You can thank your cousins for that,” said Tiffany. “If you ask me, it looks like they were in a big hurry to leave.”
“Damn it!” cried Jumbo. “What else could go wrong?”
Gadget pulled the .380 and he leveled it at Jumbo. “Let her go,” he growled. “You ain’t taking her, anywhere.”
Jumbo froze and let go of Tiffany’s arm. “Hey,” he shouted. “That’s my gun!”
“Not anymore, it isn’t,” said Mark, jogging to the porch. “Gadget, put it down!”
“I can’t do that, Mark. I’m in love with this woman and I’m not letting this asshole take her away from me.”
Mark took the steps two at a time. “Put it away, soldier,” he said, in a soothing voice. “That’s an order.”
Gadget stared at him with an open mouth. His bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes grew misty. “I just can’t have nothin’,” he whimpered, and then he lowered the .380.
Tiffany turned to him and she kissed Gadget on the cheek. “Last night was very special to me,” she said. “We’ll have to do it again, sometime.”
Slowly, Jumbo led Tiffany off of the porch and onto the lawn. They then walked, hand-in-hand, over to inspect what was left of their garage door. Larry climbed the porch steps. “Tina baby!” he shouted. “I was an asshole and I’m sorry! I want you back! Won’t you please come out here and talk to me?”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” said Mark. “I already told you that.”
“Shut your mouth!” roared Larry, tears now streaming down his cheeks. “Tina!”
“I’m right here,” said Tina, stepping into the ruined threshold. “You don’t need to shout.”
“Oh baby,” said Larry, wiping his eyes and licking his lips. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I was drinking. You know I always say stupid stuff when I drink. I swear to God, if you come back to me, I’ll never take another drink!”
Tina gave Mark a strange look as tears welled up in her eyes. She stepped through the ruined door and out onto the porch. Then, without turning back, she walked down the stairs in the direction of her house. Larry followed her, still pleading. Mark felt a lump in his throat. He brushed past Gadget and walked into his house. He went straight to the refrigerator and he grabbed the last two cans of beer. Gadget wandered inside, looking shell-shocked. Mark handed him a beer and together, the jilted men drank.
Chapter 19
Gadget finished his beer and went upstairs to take a nap. Mark told him that he wanted to build the antenna that afternoon. Gadget, fighting back his emotions, agreed. Mark sat down on the sofa and he turned on the television. President Crabtree declares Martial Law, scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Mark turned up the sound and felt his heart sink, still further. During the night, Crabtree had drafted several more Presidential Orders. Beyond his declaration of Martial Law, Crabtree had called on Americans to voluntarily surrender their firearms. By weeks end, they would be illegal to possess and private citizens caught carrying a firearm, carried the risk of being shot on sight. “Out of my cold dead hands,” grumbled Mark.
Overnight, the rioting had only grown worse. The Eastern Seaboard was in shambles. The West Coast had fared little better. Millions of Texans had rallied together, and in a show of solidarity, had staged themselves along the southern border. They urged their neighbor states to do the same. Military leaders were frothing at the mouth, practically threatening President Crabtree with his life. The country seemed to be in total chaos.
But all Mark could think about was Tina.
He shut off the television and with cement feet, he slowly climbed the stairs. He undressed and climbed into bed, not caring that he had left his guns downstairs. He had hoped that Tina would return, but after a long hour, Mark had given up hope. He buried his head in his pillows, smelling her perfume on the pillow cases. After tossing and turning for half an hour, Mark drifted off to sleep.
Both men were up before noon. The naps had served their purpose and after eating some ham sandwiches, they went out to construct the antenna. The sky had filled with clouds, but the day was warm and the winds were calm. Occasionally, the sound of laughing children carried over to them.
Gadget mounted the antenna to a pine tree, nearly thirty yards from the entrance to the shelter. Mark used a spade shovel to bury the coaxial cable. He then covered the dirt with pine needles and leaves. Three hours later, Gadget was on the Yaesu, talking to someone in Bangor, Maine. He gave Mark a nod. He felt relief flood over him. For some reason, Mark had thought that something would go wrong; lately, it seemed as if he were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. The thought conjured up an image of Larry, but Mark swept it away. He picked up his rifle and cautiously, he climbed the stairs and emerged into the woods.
He swept the woods with his hunting rifle, peering down the barrel into the Burris Rangefinder scope, silently praying he would see Jumbo’s rotten cousins. He would shoot them on sight. He knew they had nowhere to go and for that reason: he was certain they would return. Slowly, Mark walked back to his house. After doing a quick sweep of the rooms, Mark set himself to repairing the damage Tina had done to the door. He swept up the debris and dumped it into his trash can. He then cut a square of stout plywood, hammering it into place using sixteen penny nails. The repair wasn’t pretty, but it had been effective. He went back inside and stripped out of his dirty clothes. He took a long shower and changed into an old pair of camouflage fatigues. He then strapped on his holster and he snapped his Ruger into place. When he returned, Gadget met him in the kitchen. “Good idea,” he said. “I was just about to do the same thing.”
Mark nodded. “I’ve got a rifle for you,” he said. “I want you to carry it.”
Gadget smiled. “Thanks, that’s probably a good idea. You think those assholes will be back, don’t you?”
“They’ll be back.”
“What about the girls?”
Mark narrowed his eyes. “I hope not. I don’t want to see either one of them.”
Gadget fell back into one of the wooden chairs at the table. “I feel dirty,” he groane
d. “As if I had just been used, ya know?”
Mark snorted with disgust. “Yeah, I know. You should get yourself cleaned up, that will help.”
“She was my first; I mean: she was the first woman I didn’t have to pay for. She told me she loved me. She told me she was leaving Jumbo. I didn’t make that shit up. I want to kill him, man. I want to cut out his heart. I want him to feel like I do.”
“You’re talking about Tiffany’s husband. You can’t blame him. The decision to leave was Tiffany’s to make.”
Gadget’s head fell forward, as if he had just been knocked out by a punch. He rubbed his eyes and popped up from the chair. He brushed past Mark and limped up the stairs. Painfully, Mark watched his friend as he disappeared down the upstairs hallway. Mark picked up his rifle and he walked outside. He then grimaced. Jumbo, Larry, and Glick, were all over at Jumbo’s, working on the ruined garage door. They paused to look at him, before going back to work. Mark sat down on his bench and simmered in the warm air.
He didn’t notice the dog until it was halfway up his driveway. The white dog was medium-sized, scruffy, and of no particular breed. The dog sat down about twenty feet away from the porch. They studied each other for a minute. “Come here, boy,” Mark said in a soft voice. “Where did you come from?”
The white dog wore a choke collar and tags dangled from under his neck. Mark tried calling it again, but it remained where he was. Mark walked into the house and over to the refrigerator. He opened the door and grabbed a plate of leftover hamburgers. He broke the burgers into small chunks. Mark then filled an empty ice cream bucket with water. When he returned, the dog was still waiting where he’d been. Slowly, Mark took the food and water and he placed it at the bottom of the steps. The dog cocked his head to one side and his mouth opened. Mark swore the animal was smiling at him. He then returned to his place on the bench and he waited. Warily, the stray began to circle. A minute later, the dog was wolfing down the chunks of grilled burger. Feeling good, Mark watched him eat.
When the dog finished eating, he took a long drink of water. Then, using his nose, he pushed the plate back toward Mark. This brought a smile to his face. “No,” he said, “I think you’ve had enough. What’s your name, big fella?”
The dog spun around in a tight circle. He then sat down and stared at Mark, expectantly. Mark got to his feet and slowly stepped off the porch. The stray skittered back a few steps, but then he stopped. Mark held his palms out for the dog to sniff, when he did, Mark gently rubbed his neck. Soon, the stray dog was licking Mark’s hands. He stroked the tangled mats of curly white fur. It seemed obvious to Mark that the dog had been loose for quite some time. There were burs embedded in his dirty fur and there were ticks in his ears. Mark reached down to read the tag. It read: Poncho. There was also a phone number. “Well Poncho,” he said, “we had better call your people. I’m sure they miss you.”
Poncho looked at him as if he understood. When Mark walked up to the porch, the stray dog took another drink out of the ice cream bucket. He then walked over to the elm tree and did his business. “Come on, Poncho,” Mark said, holding the door open for the animal. Much to his surprise, Poncho charged up the stairs and loped into the house. Then, as if he had lived there all his life, Poncho leapt up onto the sofa. Reluctantly, Mark walked over to the telephone. He pulled the receiver off of the wall and held it to his ear.
The line was dead. Mark began to laugh. He then stared up at the ceiling. “Thank you,” he said. He walked over and joined Poncho on the sofa. Carefully, he began picking off the burs and ticks, which he deposited into his empty beer can from earlier that day. Poncho thanked him by licking his face.
“What the hell is that?” asked Gadget, freshly showered and dressed in his own pair of fatigues.
“This is Poncho. Poncho, this is Gadget.”
“Well, I hate to tell you this, but I’m allergic to dogs. Tell Poncho to hit the bricks.”
“You can kiss my ass,” said Mark. “Deal with it.”
Gadget reeled back on his feet. “You don’t understand: dogs make me break out in a rash. My nose gets plugged up and my eyes water. I can’t help it, man. That dog has got to go.”
“That’s a shame,” grunted Mark. He dug out his wallet and pulled out a thick wad of bills. “You can take my truck; hell, you can have it,” he then held out the cash. “Take this. You’re going to need it.”
“You would throw me under the bus for some stray mutt? Are you kidding me?”
“You don’t understand. This is my house. If you don’t like the way I run it, you can leave. If you don’t like the company I keep, there’s the door. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you, or anyone else, change who I am. For your information: I’ve been wanting a dog for a long time. Poncho is the answer to my prayers.”
“That’s just great. I’m so happy for you. You’re a real bastard, man, you know that? Just keep that mutt the hell outta my way.”
“Poncho is going to live with us until I can contact his owner. You better get a grip on that.”
“Did you even try to call them?”
“Yeah, the phone is dead.”
Gadget looked at the phone and he walked over and lifted the receiver. He listened and then slammed it back into the cradle. “That just figures,” he grumbled. “I’m not happy about this, man. Put your damn money away, I got nowhere to go. I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it, but it’s your fault if I get sick and die.”
Mark shook his head and laughed. “Name me one time that someone died from a dog allergy.”
“People die from peanut allergies. They could die from dog allergies.”
The statement was so absurd, that all Mark could do was laugh. He continued to stroke Poncho’s back and he scratched his neck. Gadget’s eyes darted around the room. He then walked to the door and picked up the .308. “Where are you going?” asked Mark.
“Hello?” Gadget asked, as if he were talking to a five year-old. “I don’t want to die, so I sure as hell can’t stay in here. I’m going out to hunt for those two creeps. You couldn’t handle them. I guess it’s up to me.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Gadget rolled his eyes and then he opened the door. “Nice window,” he muttered.
Poncho licked Mark’s face and he began to chuckle. “There, there,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about him. He’ll come around. He’s just hurt, that’s all. Come on, Poncho. Let’s go get you into the tub. You smell like shit, buddy.”
Mark poured a warm bath for his new friend, then he hefted the fifty-something pound dog into the tub. He took a plastic cup and wetted Poncho from head to tail. Gently, he rubbed baby shampoo into the matted fur and he began to work it in with his fingers. Poncho looked as if he were enjoying the bath. He sat patiently still and stretched his neck as Mark worked the shampoo into a foaming lather. Mark could feel the tight muscles under Poncho’s fur, and he guessed his age to be somewhere around four or five. This animal was in the prime of his life, and Mark wanted him to enjoy it. After a quick rinse, Mark repeated the process. He then drained the tub and let Poncho shake himself. Water flew in all directions. Mark took one of his bath towels and he rubbed down his new friend. He then lifted him out of the tub.
On their way out of the bathroom, Mark heard a tapping on his front door. He pulled his Ruger from the holster and slowly, he crept down the stairs. He walked to the kitchen and peered out the window. He saw Glick standing on the porch. Mark stepped over and opened the door. “Hey,” Glick said, uncomfortably.
“Hey,” replied Mark.
“I see you have a new friend.”
“Yep.”
Glick sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Nice to see you, too,” he said. “Look, that whacko friend of yours is scaring the hell out of my kids. He’s creeping around out in the woods with a hunting rifle.”
Mark didn’t flinch. “In case you forgot, the woods belong to me. Gadget is my guest and has every right to be out there. If you
didn’t hear, Mitch and Clyde paid me a visit, this morning. They were going to kill me and rape your sister in-law. If Gadget sees them, he’ll blow their heads off. If I see them, I’ll blow their damn heads off. Are we clear on that?”
“Yeah, you don’t have to be such a jerk about it. And for your information, if I see either of those guys, I’ll blow their damn brains out. What the hell did I do to you?”
Mark dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I’m sorry; it’s been a bad day. Glick, meet Poncho. He just showed up on my front lawn. He’s got tags, but the phones are down again. I just got him cleaned up.”
Glick dropped to one knee and he scratched Poncho’s head. The stray looked up at Mark, as if asking for permission. Mark smiled at that. Mutt or not, the dog was as sharp as a whip. “Good boy,” said Glick. “You know, I’ve been after Anita to get a dog for years. She’s allergic to them.”
Mark laughed. “That’s too bad,” he said. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”
Glick nodded and stood back up. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Tina. I don’t want to know. For what it’s worth, Larry doesn’t deserve her. He’s a mean drunk and he treats her like crap. We’ve been after her to leave him for a long time. That’s why Anita asked her to leave, last night. She wanted to get her away from that bastard. Tina really likes you.”
“Yeah?” scoffed Mark. “Well, she certainly has a funny way of showing it.”
“She’s been with Larry since junior high school. She just can’t get herself to leave him. Try not to be so hard on her. She’s a good kid, she’s just messed up. I love her like she’s my own sister. She’s got a great heart.”
“Larry is a lucky man.”
“Larry is an asshole. I keep hoping he’ll drink himself to death. I can’t stand him.”
Mark took half a step back. “I never knew that. You do a good job of hiding it.”
“I do that for Tina and the kids. Anita hates him, too.”
Mark digested this information and shook his head. “Thanks for telling me that,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bunkers Page 17
