Dimebag Bandits

by Craig Furchtenicht

For Kori, sleeping was an impossibility. They had beaten the sun home by only an hour before he had a chance to lay his head down. The speed had left his muscles drained and gelatinous, but his brain continued to race a mile a minute around the inside of his skull. In a way he was thankful for the inability to let his mind drift away, because that meant no dreaming. He wanted no part of dreams after the night he had experienced.

  Sprawled out in the backseat of the Corolla, he finally felt the soothing warmth of fatigue settle in. The only thing keeping him from giving in was the unmistakable smell of blood in the car. Todd had done his best to clean up most of the mess, but it seemed as though Chris had bled on every square inch of the interior. Several quilts covered the stains that were too stubborn to scrub out. Even so, the unpleasant coppery stink lingered in the air.

  They had made the frantic trip back home in record time, only stopping long enough to pick up Brenden on the way to the hospital. There they had parked a block from the emergency room entrance and carried a barely conscious Chris the rest of the way. Stripped of his mask and gloves, along with several other incriminating items in his pockets, Chris was roughly shoved into the empty lobby as soon as the automatic doors slid open. They did not wait for the body to hit the linoleum before running for the sanctuary of Todd's little red car for the second time that night.

  In all of the commotion they had forgotten about the canvas bag until Brenden questioned them about it as Todd pulled in behind their Joe Woodson's truck. He pulled at the straps and wrinkled his nose at the tacky residue left on his fingers. The top half of the canvas was now stained dark, saturated with blood from Chris's weeping stump. They carried it inside the shed to examine the contents under better lighting. Kori watched with anticipation as his brother worked the zipper open, expecting nothing short of a treasure trove of wealth to be unveiled. He was both disappointed and confused by what was inside.

  Brenden thumbed through the discs on the surface, his expression turned grave as he looked at Todd and slowly shook his head. He examined one of the copies, instantly recognizing the sloppy scrawl of Virgil's handwriting. He tossed the disc to Todd and said, “This is not good.”

  “Oh shit.” The color drained from Todd's face.

  “What?” Kori asked, still confused. “What are they?”

  “Our death warrant,” Todd replied.

  Brenden randomly pulled several stacks out of the bag and transferred them into his backpack. He closed the zipper back shut and buried both bags beneath the pile of rubble that covered the floor of their father's shed. He offered no explanation other than to say that the smaller bag was their little insurance policy. Todd nodded in agreement while Kori remained confused.

  They mutually agreed to keep a low profile for the day, given the fact that they had no way of knowing what had transpired at the cookhouse after their untimely departure. Kyle Collins was dead, that much was certain. What had become of his cousin and Soup was anyone's guess. Except for the woman with the shotgun, neither of them had actually seen any of the people that they had intended to rob. By the sound of the gunfire, it was a safe bet that the home team outnumbered the visitors.

  Best case scenario was that after half of his crew had bailed on him, Soup's chances of making it out whole were slim to none. If he didn't, there would be nothing to connect Kori or Todd to the cookhouse, except Chris. It was highly unlikely that he would talk, assuming that he even survived the night. Todd's backseat was proof that the little junkie lost an exorbitant amount of bodily fluid during the two hours he had laid there.

  Worst case scenario was that Soup did make it out. He was going to be livid that they had left him hanging. It wasn't their fault that Chris had lost his mind and blew everyone's cover, but Soup would not see it that way though. His first shot at leading the charge had left at least one man dead and another severely maimed. What was promised to be a big payday netted nothing but pain and empty pockets. He was going to feel the sting of betrayal and would need somebody to blame.

  It was Brenden's idea to make the road trip to Des Moines and collect on the debts owed to Kori for the pills Kori had unloaded earlier in the week. It was far enough away from home to lay low and let the dust settle. Besides, he had only been to the big city once before on an elementary school field trip. Touring the Capitol Building and lunch at Marc's Big Boy was pretty much the extent of that adventure. He was curious to see the rest of it, the place where half of his family had faded from existence for so many years. Kori suspected that he also missed the undeniable rush that went along with the drug trade.

  The bag, the one that Kyle Collins never had a chance to reclaim before he died, was now safely stashed in the hayloft of Jens's barn. That was also Brenden's idea. Although he did not seem too pleased with the idea of possibly getting an innocent old man caught up in their mess, it was the least likely place anyone would think to look. He promised himself that it was only temporary, just until they figured out what to do with the contents.

  By the time they had reached the city limits, Todd helped to bring Kori up to speed on the situation. Never one to sugarcoat things, he wove a disturbing back story that left Kori feeling repulsed and afraid for his life. The contents of that bag contained enough damning evidence to put a lot of people behind bars. Todd had alluded to his suspicions that the Campbell Cousins involvement with Virgil went far beyond the dope trade. It was a sure bet that somewhere on those discs was proof of that. It was also pretty safe to assume that they would stop at nothing to get that bag back. That ruthless sense of self-preservation was not just limited to Cedar Ridge either. Virgil was a sick freak, but he was also an entrepreneur. Somebody was paying him for the garbage that was in that bag. That someone would no doubt be willing to kill to regain possession of it.

  “That endgame I was telling you about,” Todd explained. “Well it's here, buddy. Now we have to decide who loses and who loses worse. 'Cause there ain't no winners here.” He saw the look Brenden was giving him and shrugged. “What? You don't think so?”

  “About the endgame part maybe, but I'm not about to lose to these psychos,” Brenden replied. “I slung some dope and cracked a few heads for that pervert, but that other shit ain't on my hands. I have no problem dropping that bag on Baylor's doorstep tonight. Let him sort out who goes down for what.”

  “Baylor?” Todd scoffed. “You think that old drunk will do anything for us? Maybe he's just as much a part of this as they are. Ever thought of that? How else has this shit gone on for so long without anyone getting busted? Even if he isn't in on it, do you think he's gonna stop them from putting a slug in all of our heads?”

  Brenden ruminated for a while before giving his answer. Conspiracy theories involving the Sheriff and god knew who else had never once crossed his mind. It was obvious that Todd had given it a lot more thought than he had given him credit for. He deserved at least a decent response. “What about Dale?”

  “Dale Scheck, as in Tassler's partner?” Todd waved his hands, dismissing the suggestion and then realizing that Brenden was being serious. “Think we can trust him?”

  “Yeah.” Brenden stared out at the busy noon hour traffic before looking back at Todd. He waited for his friend to look him in the eyes before he confidently added, “I do.”

  They rolled into the big city, each quietly mulling over the possible options to themselves.

  They let Kori do the majority of the talking as they scoured the suburbs in search of the outstanding debtors. They blended quietly into the background while the cash exchanged hands. In only one location did they find it necessary to make their presence known, to persuade some tightfisted loudmouth to reluctantly honor his financial obligations. He was a scrawny desk jockey at a franchise type gym in a strip mall. When he suggested calling a few of his beefy clients to decide whether or not he should pay up, Brenden grabbed him by the neck and asked him how hard dialing his phone would be after it was jammed up his ass. Miraculously the cash appeared on the counter in a matter of se
conds.

  All in all, it was a profitable afternoon. They had collected almost three thousand in less than two hours. They spent the rest of the day driving around the city, taking in the sights. Brenden said very little while he hung on every word of his brother's narrative description of each point of interest. Never once did he ask about the house where Kori and their mother had spent the last six years. Kori was grateful for that. The last visit to the neighborhood had left a bad taste in his mouth. Todd had been kind enough not to make him feel ashamed of living in such an affluent area. He did not have to. It was written all over his face. The difference between Ravencrest and Cedar Ridge was beyond comparison. He did not want to relive that with his brother.

  They stopped for dinner at Der Frauen Haus, a German restaurant that had always been their mother's favorite place to eat. Kori was not particularly fond of the food, but felt compelled to eat there for some reason. For the most part, the speed had run its course and he found the food easy to put away. He was ready for a nap by the time he paid the bill and walked back to the car. As he approached he saw his brother and Todd leaning on the trunk in a deep discussion. He purposely slowed his pace to give them time to finish it. Oddly, they concluded with a handshake and then a lingering hug.

  “What?” Kori said as he closed in. “I pay for the date and you two get to first base?”

  The two of them burst into laughter, maintaining their embrace. As he got closer Kori could see that Todd had been crying and Brenden was close to doing the same. It was so out of character for both of them that it was hard to watch. Kori immediately felt like an idiot for making a joke during what was obviously a serious moment.

  “Don't be jealous.” Todd stretched out an arm and grabbed Kori by the shirt, pulling him into the huddle. Passersby stole curious glances as Kori struggled to break free, sandwiched between the chests of the two larger men. They held him tightly and rubbed their knuckles over the top of his head. The louder he squealed in protest, the harder they laughed.

  “Get the hell off of me you freaks,” he yelled as he finally wiggled loose. His scalp tingled as he combed a hand through the tangled mess of his hair. He scowled at the pair and slapped away Todd's hand when he reached out to help. “What the hell's the matter with you two, anyway?”

  “Come on, little man. Don't be like that.” Todd patted him on the butt. “Better get the love while you can. Won't be much of that where I'm going.”

  “Going? What, where are you going?” Kori stared dumbly, wondering what he had missed. Todd looked back at him, grinned and moved in to hug him again. Kori stiff-armed him in the chest to thwart the advance. He looked at Brenden and asked, “What's he talking about?”

  “Rehab,” Brenden replied. “Big dufus here is finally pulling his head out of his ass and getting his shit together. I’m checking him in on the way back. He set it all up before we left this morning. Wanted to surprise us.” Brenden threw his hands up in mock astonishment. “Surprise.”

  “Now?”

  “No time like the present, right?” Todd said shamefully, looking down at the sidewalk. “This has been a long time coming. Thought I could do this on my own, but it ain't working.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned his chin up to face Kori. “Besides, almost getting your face shot off has a way of changing the way you look at things. Kinda makes you want to look in the mirror and like what you see every once in a while.”

  “I understand you wanting to get clean and all. I get that, but what about the crap going on at home?” He motioned to Brenden, who was quietly stretching his back across the hood of the car. The back of his head sunk into the fresh dent in the center. “Are we supposed to just go back and face all that by ourselves while you sit around in beanbags, spilling your guts to a bunch of twelve-step bleeding hearts?”

  “Don't be a dick, bro,” Brenden chimed in. He sat upright and folded his arms, staring coldly at him. “It is what it is, so lighten up.”

  “I'm not trying to be a dick about it, Brenden. I'm just saying that we need all the help we can get right now and he picks today to go to rehab? What am I supposed to say to that? Good luck, buddy? We'll take care of this while you're off fixing yourself?”

  Brenden pushed himself away from the car and lunged forward, getting right in his brother's face. “Yeah, that's exactly what you should say. You know why?” He turned to look at Todd, who shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other behind them. He stepped even closer and backed Kori against the building. “Because that's what friends do. They cover each other's asses when things get all fucked up, even if it means putting your own ass out there to do it.”

  With his back pressed into the cold brickwork, it suddenly occurred to Kori that he had never actually developed any kind of genuine friendship in the past six years. No one in his life could be considered a real friend in the true sense of the word. Sure he hung out with some of the TEFL crowd, but they were just people thrust upon him by either Clayton or his mother. Just casual acquaintances with shallow personalities, impossible to relate to when conversation strayed beyond the realm of the church. He had his customers, but that was based on the concept of instant gratification on both ends. Dope on theirs, cash on his.

  The revelation left him with a sinking feeling that settled in his chest like a weight. For the first time in his life he had friends. The burden that came along with it was something that he was not prepared for. Up to that point he had been functioning solely on his own selfish needs. He had no idea how to act when facing a friend in need.

  “Sorry, man.” He offered his hand to Todd, feeling like the dick that Brenden had accused him of being. Todd took his hand and pulled close. This time Kori made no effort to resist the impending hug that followed.

  They arrived at the rehabilitation center an hour after they had left the city. Kori sat in the car while Brenden helped carry in the suitcase that Todd had secreted in the trunk before they had left. He studied the building that looked more like a school campus than a rehab center. The only difference was that there were no bars on the windows of this place. He wondered if they pushed faith as a method of getting people clean from drugs and alcohol there. He hoped not. Todd would make a lousy bible beater.

  Brenden walked back to the car alone. Instead of approaching the empty driver's side he walked up to the passenger window. Kori's heart palpitated. He had seen the television show where family and friends lured unsuspecting loved ones into hotel rooms, only to reveal some cunning ruse that left them in tears as they checked into rehab clinics. Had Todd told him about the methamphetamine that he had done the night before? His mouth went dry as Brenden knocked on the glass.

  “I only did one line, I swear,” he said, rolling the window. He left it halfway up, just enough to make it impossible for his brother to pull him through the opening if it came to that. “I didn't even like it.”

  “Okay, good for you.” Brenden gave him a puzzled look and twirled his hand, motioning for him to roll the glass down further. “He's about a grand short. Apparently they didn't add the taxes and meals into the quote they gave him on the phone. Go figure, huh? How's about floating me some of that cash until we get home?”

  “A grand?” Kori stared at him with an expression of relief that Brenden mistook for hesitation. He had no way of knowing how close Kori had come to locking all of the doors and peeling out of the parking lot to avoid being committed against his will.

  “I'll pay you back when we get home for Christ's sake,” Brenden snapped.

  “Oh, Yeah. No problem,” Kori mumbled, digging the roll of cash from his pocket. He counted out a thousand and handed it through the opening. “I thought that you wanted to... well, never mind.”

  Brenden took the money and counted it. He stared at his brother for a long time, shaking his head in dismay. He pointed his thumb to the clinic behind him and said, “Man, I don't know about you sometimes. And I thought I was leaving the goofy one in there, but now I'm not so sure. We've got to work
on that when we get you home.”

  Chapter 29

  Life in Cedar Ridge slowly reverted back to the dull existence that it had been before the killings took place. It was surprisingly easy for a town that had not seen a murder in over four decades. At first the residents coped by regurgitating varied accounts of the crimes through the social grapevine, over morning coffee or across neighboring fences. Each day the facts became more skewed until the truth was no longer relevant. The blinding reality of a tragedy is always much easier to stomach when the finer details remain hazy.

  Satisfied that the dragon had slain itself, most of the State investigators pulled up stakes and rode off into the sunset. Detective Hazelton remained behind to tie up the loose ends, namely Dale Scheck and his lost bag of key evidence. He still had faith in the young deputy. He was not about to sit back and watch him piss away his career over one mistake, no matter how foolish it was. He had invested far too much of his own efforts in the man to do that.

  Two funerals took place over the course of the following week. One fallen officer was given a traditional police service, complete with a full escort and a twenty-one gun salute. The other was unceremoniously interred at the same cemetery two days later. No visitation preceded the discrete service and only a handful of family members came to pay their respects. Dale quietly stood behind Margaret as his dead friend was lowered into the earth, less than one hundred feet from where the man he murdered was buried.

  The deer that was discovered with Tassler's body was processed by the state lab and then hauled away by a state rendering truck. No mention of it was made public, but several photos of the tender moment hit the internet before any of the bodies were cold.

  Brenden and Kori spent the days working together on the farm, preparing for the winter months to come. No amount of bonding could make up the six long years that had separated them, but they did their best to fill in the cracks of lost time. They shared secrets and ambitions, the kind that only brothers would care to know. They reminisced with stories from the long ago past when they were once part of a happier family, oblivious to the fragile nature of strained marriages.