by Chris Hechtl
Jon put the vehicle in the barn. He had Kevin help him disconnect the battery and then bury it under old tarps and bales of hay until they could figure out what to do with it.
When they were finished, they washed up and then came back to see the women. The girls hadn't moved from their spot, though the cries had stopped. Vanessa stroked her daughter's hair gently, calming her.
When Vanessa saw the men folk come in, she nodded to them and then quietly urged Gretchen and Clarice to get up. “I don't know about you, but I've got a full bladder,” she said, pushing them upright.
Clarice nodded, head down, biting her lip as she walked off.
“Get cleaned up. We've got chores to do. We'll talk about this later,” Vanessa said as she rose and dusted her dress and apron off. Gretchen clutched at herself, unsure. Vanessa took her by the elbow and gently guided her to the privy and then to bed. She dosed her daughter with some of her husband's whiskey, enough for her to relax the knot of tension in her body. She then held her eldest daughter until she fell asleep. Clarice fell asleep in the rocker.
<)>^<)>/
When Gretchen fell asleep, Vanessa gathered herself up. Her daughters … nay, her children had some of their childhood brutally ripped from them forever. But if they didn't act, they'd lose more than that.
“What did you do with the body?” she asked as she came out into the living room.
“You don't have to worry about it. We buried it, Mom,” Ronald said quietly.
“They will look for him, him and his vehicle. If they don't find him, they'll keep looking and keep asking hard questions until they find him,” Vanessa said as Jon came in with some sandwiches he'd made. He handed one to each of the boys and then offered his own to his wife. She took half.
“Eat. Then we're going to get rid of the body where they'll find it,” Vanessa said.
“You have a plan?” Jon asked, eying her.
“I think so. Remember Gidian's son?”
Jon blinked at her and then frowned thoughtfully.
“Rob,” Kevin said softly. “I remember. I was going to go with them on that ride,” he said with a shiver. “But you stopped me.”
“And you're glad I did, right?” Vanessa asked pointedly. He nodded in earnest. She kept eying him before she turned her look on her husband. He was still lost.
“The boy who drank too much at the harvest festival three falls ago. He and his friends borrowed an old truck and went out for a joy ride. They went over Dead Man's turn?” she asked pointedly.
Slowly he nodded as he took a bite of the sandwich and chewed.
“If we do it like that … but we won't be able to keep anything,” he said.
“No. Nor should we. Get rid of it. Get rid of it all. Everything you took from him. That way we won't have any questions,” she said firmly.
“Okay,” Jon said.
<)>^<)>/
After they ate, Vanessa forced Jon, Kevin, and Alvin to dig up the body. The men folk complained to leave it till morning, but she wanted it done quick. Ronald was too tired from taking on the chores though; he kept yawning and teetering so Vanessa put the boy to bed while they worked on the smelly task.
Once she was back, she found they'd dragged the body out. They straightened it up, gave it a bath in a trough, and then redressed it. She was careful to make certain the buttons were right and that he had his weapons and gear. Alvin kept retching so she had him help his brother dig the truck out of the barn. The boy still had a weak stomach despite helping out with the slaughtering from time to time.
Once that was done, she forced Jon to pour rotgut he'd traded crops for into the stomach, and then splashed some all over the body and interior of his vehicle. She wiped the bottle down and put it and another empty in the truck. They hooked up the battery and then they were ready for the next step.
She left a worried-looking Alvin in charge of the farm. She and Jon drove the truck; Kevin followed on a Branack with two more on tow behind him.
It took time to get the hang of the truck. Someone called over the radio, but she just shut it off. Jon clung to his side of the truck with the body in the back. They were quiet the entire time as they drove on the narrow roads going up into the hills. The roads were winding with blind curves and slippery slopes.
Once they got to Dead Man's curve, she pulled up and then they climbed out. They put the body into the driver's seat and then went behind the truck.
“This is hard,” Jon grunted as they pushed the truck. “I …”
“Jon, just shut up and push,” she ordered. When they got to the crest, they felt the truck tip and they let go. The vehicle went over the side and then rolled and tumbled down the hillside. It came to a rest upside down.
“Come on,” Vanessa said as she climbed down the hill. She scrambled, then decided that safety in the dark was better so she butt-slid the rest of the way down. When she got to the bottom, she pulled out a box of matches and light a dripping pool of fuel on fire. It lit fast and then flames swam over the vehicle and engulfed it in flames.
“Come on, we need to leave,” she urged as her husband came up to her side panting and huffing.
“What'd we do that for?” Jon demanded, indicating the truck. It lit up the night, making him nervous about being watched.
“We can tell them he took your booze, got drunk and took off this way. Let them find the body. It was dark when he left. We'll rehearse the story. Get the kids on it too. Make sure they know he left.”
He nodded slowly. “Where did you get this?” he asked as she hiked up her long skirt and then climbed back up the hill. He turned to occasionally lend her a hand over some of the rougher areas.
“Reading. I like to read detective stories, not just romances,” she said.
“Oh,” he said as they continued to climb.
When they got to the top, a nervous Kevin was there to meet them. They swung up onto their mounts and then road home. Kevin stared over his shoulder to the fire lit hillside. The hills were a bit dry so some of the brush was catching fire too. He looked back to his mother and wondered errantly if she'd ever had to do that before.
Halfway home he was too tired and scared to care. It started to mist as they got within sight of the farm. He felt relief as they turned onto the road, and his father leaned over to open the gate and let them through. They'd have to care for their mounts when they got them to the barn to keep them from getting a cough, but that was fine he thought tiredly.
<)>^<)>/
The following morning before they'd gone out for morning chores, Vanessa had gathered them all up. She hadn't slept a wink; she knew Jon hadn't slept much either. Tempting as it was to sleep in, the crows and sounds from the animals dissuaded them. The rain had been light, just enough to mud up the road and wash some of the tracks away. Hopefully, their Branack tracks would be destroyed she thought worriedly.
“Life goes on,” she said gruffly. “And if you want it to, you'd better get this right,” she said sternly. She had them rehearse that the collector had left at nightfall rather drunk. She made certain each only knew a piece of the story. Then she insisted they get back to work.
“It's going to rain today,” Jon said, turning a weather eye to the sky. “We best be about it,” he said with a nod.
“Right,” Vanessa said, shooing the men folk out. Gretchen kept clear of the boys. She and her sister stayed indoors as usual. They made breakfast. Gretchen was a bit listless at first but then seemed to buck up slowly.
<)>^<)>/
Corporal Lishman swore as he drove the truck out on the bumpy road. The powers that be had noted one of their appointed tax collectors had missed his regular check-ins. They'd been a bit busy though, so he hadn't had time to check on it. He hadn't given a shit about Lajoy. The kid was stupid enough to go out and about on his own, so he could look after himself.
But then Captain Goddard called and gotten on his ass to look. So, he'd had to drop what he was doing and take a look.
He had ch
ecked in with the checkpoint, but they'd insisted he hadn't returned. It could be a busted vehicle, no fuel, or a busted radio … the kid had better be dead or he was going to get his ass burned, Vincent vowed as he bounced around in the truck.
“Can they make these damn roads any bumpier?” he demanded. The guys in the back grunted but didn't say anything.
That was another thing that was bothering him. They were taking on the natives. He had been reinforced by a group of native auxiliaries. He still didn't trust them. He looked out of the corner of his eye to the kid riding shotgun next to him. Damned if he'd trust them he thought again, mind going back to the robot in the back with the rest of the fire team.
“They said he went this way,” Private Mike Fornell said, pointing to the road when they got to an intersection.
They climbed out and looked at the fork. Mike pointed to the right. “Down there is the Desmond place,” he said. He pointed with the blade of his hand to the left. “That way is the Patterson place. Both are abandoned. They got bought out by the Smith's,” he said, pointing to the center road. “Beyond the Smith's is the Borlin place, then a bunch of places up in the foothills. Between the Smith's and the Borlin's is a series of hills. Bit windy country there, real tight narrow roads with blind turns,” he said with a shake of his head. “I lost a couple of friends and my cousin Jeb there three years ago.”
Vincent grunted as he knelt in the road and checked the area. There was a set of tire tracks, faint but there. They went straight up the road. “He went that way,” he said, pointing to the tracks and then up the road. “Come on. Let's get this done,” he said as he turned to the truck. He banged on the hood, then wrenched the creaky driver side door open and climbed back in.
<)>^<)>/
Jon and the boys were cutting and stacking firewood when the invaders came looking for the missing tax collector. Ronald was the first to see the dust plume coming up the road. His whimper and look attracted the attention of the others. Jon hefted the axe, then set it down and wiped at his face with his handkerchief. “Finish staking the wood, boys,” he said. He leaned the axe against the stump he had been using as a block. “Remember what your Ma said. Don't say nothin unless they ask though,” he cautioned. The boys nodded.
He went over to the porch and got a drink of lemonade. “Vanessa, they are here,” he called out softly. He heard a clatter in the kitchen, then a muffled cry. He saw Clarice look out the window to him, then turn her head to look at the road to the approaching vehicle. Her head instantly disappeared from view.
After a moment, her mother came to the window, then to the screen door. She washed her hands with her apron.
Jon was suddenly glad that his wife had insisted they get rid of the body and vehicle in the way that they had. He'd been sorely tempted to pick the truck over; now he was glad he hadn't.
He grimaced when he noted the truck's occupants get out and open the gate, and then drive through leaving it open. Hopefully, they'd close it on their way out, but he doubted it he thought as they passed through the groove of trees lining either side of the driveway. The leaves had changed color and had started to fall as the winds had picked up and the heat had started to die off.
The men climbed out of the truck warily, looking around them. The boys looked up from the wood pile, but Jon waved them back to work. Alvin's shoulders hunched in worry, but he went back to work. Kevin hesitated but then motioned for Ronald to get back to work too. Jon knew they'd keep a wary eye on the intruders until they left.
“Gents,” he said, tipping his hat as he got another drink. “Care for a drink to cut your travel dust?” he asked as their leader came over to him.
“Don't mind if I do,” the guy said. He was a soldier, Jon noted. “Corporal Lishman,” the man said as he took a glass of lemonade from Jon. He took a sip and then washed his mouth out before he spat. He took another sip and then swallowed. “We're looking for your local tax collector. We know he was here. Don't lie to us. We tracked his truck here.”
Jon nodded dutifully. “He was. He took the last of my booze as tithe and headed north off to the Borlin's place,” Jon said, indicating the dirt road with the blade of his hand. The corporal looked on to where he indicated, pursing his lips in thought. Jon tried not to be surly.
“He did, eh?”
“Yes. It rained in the area yesterday; you might have missed some of the tracks,” Jon offered, indicating the road.
“Mighty bumpy road,” Jon said.
“It's the winter. The snows tear it up,” Jon said shaking his head. “We don't have road crews come out more than once every ten, twenty years or so,” he said. “I gravel my drive and this stretch here every other year,” Jon said, indicating the driveway and apron around the area.
“You men folk need more lemonade?” Vanessa asked from the doorway. “We saw your truck,” she said as the corporal looked up to her. She turned and hit the latch with her butt then came out with another tray. She set it down next to the other. She'd made fresh lemonade and had even taken the tarts out Jon noted.
“Thank you, ma'am,” the corporal said with a polite nod. He took a tart after Jon did. Jon bit into it and then cupped his hand to catch the sweet juices before they ran down and onto his shirt.
“Mind the shirt, Jon, the berries stain,” his wife said, handing him a linen napkin. She had a stack on the end of the tray; she hesitated before she handed another to the corporal.
The corporal had hesitated to eat the tart until his host had, just in case it was poisoned. When the guy didn't keel over, he ate his snack quickly and efficiently. He brushed his hands of crumbs and then took another sip of lemonade. “You said he headed up into the hills?”
“Yes. It was near dark. He sometimes would come up here, stop, then go on to the Borlin's, then race back in the dark real quick-like. Spooks the animals and gives the girls a fright,” Jon said, indicating the road. “You can see the headlights when he does it, like a phantom. The boys were telling ghost stories about it until they realized what it was,” he said as Vanessa went back inside.
“Ah,” the corporal said as he heard the screen door clatter shut. He indicated the private could come and get a snack and drink. One by one he let his men off perimeter security to take a snack as he quizzed their host again on his story. It made sense he thought.
Still, he had his host walk with him up the drive to the road. Jon was a bit wary, but he did his best not to show it. Instead, he moved the gate aside and then hitched it open. Then he leaned against it with his forearms and pointed to the road to the Borlin's. “See? Up beyond the low where the mud is you can see his tracks,” he said as the men climbed out of the truck and looked around.
The corporal shaded his eyes and looked. He could just make out the tracks. He swore softly to himself. The last thing he wanted was to continue the wild goose chase. He'd hoped the young idiot had bedded the farmer's daughter or something. Hell, even gotten his ass killed. Tax collecting was dangerous business he knew. He stomped out onto the road and then went around the drying muddy area to where the tracks picked up again. “You said it rained? After he left?”
“Ayeup,” Jon said, tipping his hat back.
“All right, we'll check it out,” the corporal said with a heavy sigh. He keyed his radio. When it didn't get a signal, he went over to the truck, which had crept up to them. He reached inside and triggered the HAM radio inside and made his report quickly.
Jon nodded when the corporal climbed up into the passenger seat. “Mind the curves. It's rough in the dark,” he said gruffly.
“Yeah, I was telling him I lost a couple friends a couple of years ago,” Mike Fornell said eagerly.
“Hmmm, you look familiar. You wouldn't happen to be related to Reginald Fornell, would you?” Jon asked.
“He's my Pa,” Mike replied proudly.
“Wasn't it your cousin who was in that wreck? The one those boys did off Dead Man's Curve?” Jon asked pointedly.
“That was them. Drunk
as a skunk or so I heard,” Mike said with a shake of his head.
Corporal Lishman nodded thoughtfully. “You said Dead Man's Curve?” he asked with a grimace. Jon and Mike nodded. “Figures,” he grunted. He waved for his people to load back up. “Thanks,” the corporal said gruffly to Jon. He then turned to his driver and pointed for Fornell to move out. “Come on. I want to get this over with. Heaven help this kid if he's screwing off,” he said with a shake of his head.
“You're welcome,” the farmer replied, stepping back from the vehicle. They took off in a flurry of dust and mud, bumping and jostling about. Jon looked away, sheltering his face and mouth from the crap their truck stirred up.
<)>^<)>/
They are gone?” Vanessa asked from behind the screen door as Jon came up on to the porch and tipped his hat back.
Jon nodded as he looked back the way he'd came. “For now. You were right,” he admitted.
“We best be about chores,” Vanessa said as she pushed the boys out onto the porch. She turned to two shadowy figures behind her. “But girls, stay inside. They'll come back this way if they're going to go to town,” she said. The girls dutifully nodded. “You two can work on sweeping and doing chores inside while the boys and I take over your chores for a while,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Clarice said softly.
<)>^<)>/
Near noon the corporal's party tracked the truck to the blind curve. The faded tracks went right over the side.
He climbed out and then waved for the others to do so as well. When he got to the edge, he grunted. There below was the crashed truck and what looked like a burn scar, most recently put out by the rains.
He called the report in over the truck's HAM radio and then swore viciously as he climbed down the hillside.
When he crouched and looked inside the burned-out shell, one look told him all he needed to know. He called it in and wrote it up as death by stupidity, aka drunk driving. The burnt wreckage wasn't worth salvaging for anything but scrap metal he noted. He pulled out a camera and took photos.
