Blood Appeal: Vigilante--A Species of Common Law

by Lyle O'Connor

  Anna hooked the leash to one of the German Shepherds and off they trotted, zigzagging down the road. I had radioed Kuhl for the pickup before Anna made it to the asphalt. As it turned out, his timing couldn’t have been better. He’d swung the van in, threw it into park and helped Anna load the first animal. When I emerged with Yeller at my side, we bedded him down in the van and shut the doors. I patted Kuhl on the back as he climbed in behind the steering wheel. Kuhl waved as he headed back to his roadside turnoff to wait for the next transmission.

  At the compound, Anna hooked up the remaining German shepherd that appeared to be an adult animal, emaciated, with infected open wounds. The stench gagged me. When Anna walked him out of the gate, I noticed his grossly exaggerated limp.

  Anna set a slow pace toward the front of the building. It was my turn to get the last animal. As far as the animals went, the wolf was in the best physical shape. Although difficult to tell, I guessed him to be an adult and weighing between eighty to one-hundred pounds. The look in his almond-colored eyes indicated he’d been socialized and possibly raised as a family pet. But the traits of a wolf stem from deeper DNA and his behaviors were rooted in what he was born to be, a wolf. I’d determined that when we exited the cage if he were to escape, I wouldn’t hinder his progress. Of all the animals we’d taken custody, he stood the best chance of survival in the wild. He didn’t fight the leash as I had anticipated, but his skittishness made him difficult to direct.

  When I reached the front of the building, I was surprised to see Anna not far in front of me. I’d expected her and the shepherd to have traveled farther than she had, but her dog had laid flat in the parking area and didn’t respond to her prompts. I traded leashes with Anna. I gently lifted the animal to his feet. His eyes were sunken, and his bottom jaw hung open.

  The look was familiar to me. I’d seen it on the ranch. Sick and injured animals often had the identical look to them when they’d given up the will to live. Although survival is one of the strongest traits possessed by all creatures, sometimes it’s easier to die than live. I’d seen the same lack of will to live in abused children. Many lacked trust in any adult to shield and protect them. Often they later committed suicide.

  “The only way he is going to make it, is if I carry him.” I bent down, lifted the dog into a cradled position and firmly held him against my chest. He barely squirmed. I spoke in whispers and promised him freedom. All he had to do was live. Anna had been right. The time had drawn short for this dog, and he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  We hid in the brush line to await our extraction. Anna made the radio call; I had my hands full. The few short minutes we waited were the last moments of the shepherd dog’s life. Perhaps the stress of his escape had been too much for him to bear. If he had remained at the camp for another day or two, likely he would’ve been baited in the training of another dog. It would have been a savage site as he was bitten and ripped apart, unable to defend himself. In my book, the book of Walter, it was one more reason to extract pain for payment. These low-lifers, the Alliance, had amassed a hefty bill.

  The lifeless animal had accepted death and freedom at the same time. The filthy conditions of his rusted cage, the torture and the pain from dogfights were all in his rearview mirror. Dying—I couldn’t argue the point.

  I packed the dog’s body down the embankment to the small stream on the valley floor. I spotted a soft grassy mound and laid the body to rest. He would have enjoyed the openness after his life in a cage.

  Anna and Kuhl took it upon themselves to load the wolf in my absence. Evidently a task easier said than done. Anna’s tangled hair and flushed face; along with Kuhl busy dousing his lower forearm with Isopropyl alcohol, told the story of a struggle. “What did you do, get bit?”

  “We put the wolf in the back,” Kuhl said.

  “I don’t think he took kindly to being lifted up by his midsection and into the van,” Anna said as she blew strands of hair from in front of her face.

  I climbed into the back and left the front seat for Anna. I squeezed between Yeller and an empty five-gallon paint bucket that had become wedged against one of the rear doors. I reached over and petted Yeller. The wolf didn’t take his eyes off me. I liked that. I was of the same nature.

  Anna said something, but I’d tuned her out. The predator sitting across from me captured my focus. I had great respect for wolves. Lions and tigers were larger and more powerful beasts that have for centuries been trained to perform in the circus but never the wolf. It was with this nature I had my kinship.

  Anna’s plan had moved to the front burner. I didn’t like the interference, but it wasn’t as if we had a well-thought-out agenda scripted for the project. Before we continued with the mission, we’d have to rid ourselves of the animals.

  We gave Anna a lift across the bridge where she’d parked the Avenger, pulled over and let her out.

  “Stay close,” Kuhl told Anna. “Follow me when I pull off the road.”

  We waited on the shoulder of the road until Anna had pulled out on the highway. We had traveled less than five minutes before Kuhl turned off onto a lengthy overlook.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  Kuhl, as his manner was, squeezed into the back of the van and dug out his private stash of canned meat. Anna had climbed into the passenger seat and was doing her best to help empty the Spam onto paper plates. “Too much of the fatty meat might make them sick,” I said.

  “You’re probably right. Their stomachs may not be able to handle it. We’ll start with small portions on individual plates,” Kuhl said.

  We could control the amount each animal ate, but we couldn’t control the speed by which they devoured the offering. The animals, less than satisfied with the sample, would have to wait for another helping until we arrived at the campgrounds.

  From this point, Anna led the way. No one discussed what we were going to do when we rolled up on our RV. Anna unlocked the motorhome and stayed inside while Kuhl hooked one of the leashes to Yeller. “I’ll be back in a minute for the next one,” Kuhl said. I continued my stare at the wolf that’d risen to a standing position. There wasn’t a threat in his eyes, only a seeking to understand human behavior. We had bonded telepathically and I saw his nature alive in me.

  Kuhl returned for the second dog and asked, “You going to bring the last one inside or do you need help?”

  “I got it.”

  Kuhl had accumulated a few nasty scrapes on his forearm from the wolf. Most animals would have struggled if an unknown person picked them up and loaded them into a van. Kuhl caught a loose paw—unintentionally. He was lucky it hadn’t turned out worse.

  I laid my arm over the paint bucket and let my hand hang loosely in front of the wolf ’s nose. He leaned back but couldn’t resist the urge to take a whiff of my fingers. Then he did it again. I leaned forward causing my hand to make contact with the guard hairs of his shiny black coat. He allowed the touch but only for a moment, then he shifted his body from my reach.

  Anna stood at the motorhome door and waved for me to bring the wolf inside. I’d had time to think about my next step and without hesitation I gripped his collar. If there had to be a showdown over which one of us was the Alpha male, so be it.

  The wolf lit out from the van on the run toward the RV. It wasn’t clear which one of us was the lead dog. One moment the wolf was pulling me in the direction we needed to go, the next moment I’d have to redirect his path. But, we never stop running. Once inside the RV, the door quickly closed. We’d managed to shuttle the three animals into our motorhome without an incident. Before we sat down and put our feet up, we needed to figure out our next move.

  “We need to bathe and treat their wounds,” Anna said.

  “Better feed them a light snack to calm their anxiety,” I said.

  “Good idea. Thomas, would you mind going to the store and buying some dry dog food?” Anna asked.

  I looked at Kuhl and added, “You may want to give them a song and dance about why
you need it.”

  He looked at me and gave me the goofy grin he reserved for occasions such as these, and laughed as he exited the motorhome. Anna was quick to action. “Let’s begin with the big blonde dog.”

  “Anna, take a good long look at the shape of these animals.”

  Anna looked, but she didn’t want to see. She wanted to save them but refused to admit they required more than shelter, food, and tender loving care. We didn’t have the means to take care of all their needs. Professional medical assistance was a necessity.

  I pressed the point with Anna until she agreed the best course of action was for her to run the dogs to Palmer leaving Kuhl and me to handle business. Anna confirmed her plans with a call to the animal rescue center. I prepared the Avenger for its cargo.

  Kuhl returned just in time to assist with loading of the dogs. After we’d fed them we hurried to get Anna on the road and the animals to their destination.

  The Mom-and-Pops store at the corner of the Glenn and Richardson Highways was bustling with business when Kuhl and I pulled into the parking lot. I’d sustained my energy, in part, by snacking on protein bars and jerky from my bug-out bag over the past couple days and needed to restock. Kuhl likewise had depleted his canned meat supply on the dogs. He’d be intolerable without his potted meats.

  Kuhl asked, “Do you want to stay with the vehicle while I go shop?”

  “Not a chance. I’m picky when it comes to health bars. I’m sure I can find the canned meat section without much difficulty.”

  “I’m picky too. I like Spam and those little weenies in a can.”

  I shook my head as I got out of the van, muttering to myself, “little weenies in a can. I am not going to buy little weenies. No way.”

  Inside the store, customers had formed two distinct lines. Those making purchases were heel-to-toe at the register while the second grouping of folks stood cross-legged near the bathrooms. I cruised a couple aisles getting my bearings on the layout. Near the end of a row of canned goods, I found a stash of canned meats. I cleared the shelf placing seven cans into a plastic basket provided by the store. Feeling pleased with myself having scored Kuhl’s favorite cuisine, I walked around the end of the aisle and abruptly came face-to-face with Duke Dixon. His nostrils flared as he backed away. His body tensed and quivered.

  An uneasy quietness developed as I studied his startled response to our chance meeting. His anxiety and shortness of breath rapidly morphed into anger incapacitating his ability to speak. Not that there was any possibility for meaningful dialog.

  Contrary to Duke’s reaction, my emotional state was unfazed. However, the beast awakened and had to be satisfied.

  Terrified people usually act first, and Duke was as frightened as a person could get without wetting himself. “I knowed you.” He puffed out his chest and put on a fake smile. Duke was a creature of habit and with any perceived threat, he responded with intimidation. “You didn’t get enough the first time?”

  I had an answer for him that would likely set him into a tail-spin and out of control, but that would draw attention to us, and I wanted to avoid the showdown in public.

  “Maybe one of these days we’ll talk about Missouri.”

  Duke stepped forward. Again, his intent to intimidate me had failed. He should have known his size meant nothing.

  “You made a whopper of a mistake this time, boy. There’re a whole lot of woods out here.” I let him run off at the mouth with his meaningless drivel. The higher the smile crept up the side of his face, the bolder he grew. “That’s right, boy. You be gettin’ the idea. Better be runnin’ ‘long now.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Y’all ain’t nothin’ too smart about it for bein’ an educated man.”

  Silence has a frightening effect on cowards. Duke’s deep set eyes squinted as I intensified my gaze. I whispered, “Someone has to answer for the cold-blooded murder of Dawn Simmonds.” With that, Duke slowly stepped backward as if we were in an old western setting, and a gunfight was about to break out. I maintained a constant stare in his direction. I wanted him to feel my eyes on him.

  The guilt Duke had tried to escape in Shell Knob had followed him to Alaska. My presence was a stark reminder of his part in Dawn’s murder. His guilt was made heavier by my haunting appearance when I should’ve been a rotting corpse. Weighing greater than guilt on a coward like Duke was why I’d trailed him to Alaska. He could only conclude—revenge.

  Duke hesitated as he exited the store. He’d avoided eye contact over the past few minutes, but he glanced in my direction as he turned and pressed his shoulder against the door. I nodded and glared. There was no misunderstanding on Duke’s part. We would meet again soon.

  I watched Duke climb into the red Jeep wagon with Jake Boury aka Flattop behind the steering wheel. Kuhl had parked at the edge of the lot with his van diagonally facing the store’s entrance. I called his cell phone and tipped him off about my encounter with Duke. I collected a few items for my bug-out bag and hurried to the checkout line. When I reached the exit, I could see the Jeep Cherokee still parked near the store’s exit with two people inside. In my estimation, they were waiting to see what I was driving. I wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

  I didn’t worry about safety when I stepped out of the store. Engaging in broad daylight with witnesses didn’t benefit either of us. I stood for a moment on the top step of the stairs hoping to draw Kuhl’s attention. My adversaries hunkered down in their rig. Duke flipped me the universal sign of affection. A childish gesture of cowards and not a behavior I respected.

  Instead of continuing to the van that was parked to my left I went to the right. A short distance from the Mom-and-Pop’s was a fresh fruit and vegetable stand set up in front of a refrigerator van. I moseyed over to the fruit and bought a few items. The red Jeep pulled to a stop in front of the stand. Kuhl picked up my cues and understood I needed to slip these guys. I saw the van make a wide sweeping motion moving slowly toward the gas station. I walked across the lot like I owned the place in the direction of the van. I came to the front of the gas station and glanced back at the Jeep, it hadn’t moved. I figured they were comfortable with their view. Where would I go? The lot was relatively open, and no vehicles could exit from the north side of the lot. But, Kuhl had moved his rig behind the diner. I walked to the east corner and then behind the station and cut across to the cafe.

  I was losing respect for these guys. They weren’t keeping up with the game. They either couldn’t or didn’t know how to make a plan on the fly. Amateurs. Weren’t they watching for additional players? They knew it was game on, and they were falling further behind every minute we played.

  They remained on the southeast corner of the lot. At this point, I was completely hidden from their view as I slipped behind the diner and into Kuhl’s van. We exited the lot at the northeast corner of the lot and onto the Richardson Highway.

  “I’m done with the cat and mouse routine.”

  Kuhl nodded, “Let’s do it.”

  We drove to the crest of the hill where Kuhl had previously set up to monitor the compound.

  “They may bolt on us,” Kuhl said.

  “Where are they going to go? The compound is the safest environment they’ll find.”

  Kuhl handed me a pair of headphones, “Here, listen.”

  Excitement welled up inside as I anticipated Duke and Flattop’s reaction to Ponytail’s demise. Kuhl’s audio monitor hung strategically above the back door where Hayden Leigh lay caked in dried blood.

  There was no sign of the Jeep Cherokee. Kuhl had taken up a position at the van’s back window with binoculars in hand. There was no reason for Kuhl to keep the glasses stuck to his eyes, not until a rig turned off the highway onto the access road.

  Time slowed to a crawl and excitement faded into uneasiness. Kuhl put the binoculars up to his eyes and leaned forward until his little finger and edges of his palms rested on the densely tinted rear window to support his view. “You have a r
ed SUV turning into the driveway of the compound. It looks like our boys.”

  The excitement was back.

  As we waited for their arrival at the compound, I thought out loud, “Bet they’ve been trying to contact Pug and Ponytail.”

  Kuhl tossed in his two-cents worth, “Unless they used a clairvoyant—that call didn’t go through but they might have gotten a hold of Snuth.”

  “They can call the entire Alliance militia for all I care—it’s not going to change the outcome. They can’t stop what’s going to happen—their fate is signed and sealed, all that’s left is for us to deliver.”

  Kuhl looked at me deadpan, “You sound confident.”

  “I’m going to kill them.”

  I put a hand up toward Kuhl in a gesture to stop all noise. He grabbed a set of headphones and held one side to his ear. A door creaked. From the placement of the audio pickups, it was impossible to determine if the entry had come from the front or back doors.

  “Come on,” a voice rang out. It was a good indicator there were two or more targets, and at least two were entering via the front door. Time stood still. Faintly came the words, “Looks okay.” Then an eerie cry of anguish and indignation echoed through the audio pickups followed by a mournful howl. I had no doubt where they were in the building.

  One man bellowed a tirade of profanity, followed by a second man spouting threats of violence mixed with obscenities. Kuhl looked toward me and said, with admiration in his tone, “You did well.” I humbly acknowledged his remark with a nod and a wink.

  The targets had moved far enough from our microphones that the words they spewed were unintelligible mutterings. “Are we going to wait for Anna?” Kuhl asked.

  “No. They’re in a state of shock and emotional chaos from seeing their pal laid out on the floor. Strike while the iron’s hot. If we give them enough time, they’ll muster forces and contact Snuth for sure.”

  Kuhl set his headphones on the makeshift workbench in the van and geared up for the hike. He function tested the two-way radios and concluded, “Range won’t be a problem in this valley. I’ll take my shotgun and a .45-caliber auto for backup.”