Willobee's World

by Wendell Vanderbilt Fountain

  “Well…if that’s what you see in him, I guess you can’t go wrong.”

  It was getting late, but Trent wanted to get back home. He knew he should have filled up before he left Albuquerque, but now the needle told him to find the first truck stop and get fuel. As he drove, he monitored the CB traffic. He heard some guy talking about some young stuff at the truck stop, and apparently, he planned to take full advantage of the situation. Though Trent didn’t partake of these underage prostitutes, a lot of other truckers did. As long as they got what they wanted, they could’ve cared less.

  Trent pulled in to fill up. As he was pumping gas, he noticed two young girls climbing into the cab of a truck parked off to the side. From where he was, they looked like teenagers. For a minute, he thought about calling the cops, but by the time they got there, the trucker would be on his way with or without the girls, so he continued to pump diesel and mind his own business. He topped off his tanks, and headed home. When he got to the bottom of the hill where his mailbox was, he did his customary thing and picked up the contents, and then drove his truck up to the back of his mobile home. By the time he got in, it was nearly two in the morning. He pitched the mail on the table, got a cold one out of the fridge, and began sorting through what he had received. Most of it was junk and bills, but one envelope stood out. It only had his handwritten name—Willobee on it. That really piqued his interest. When he read its contents, he really didn’t know how to react. The handwritten letter from Dobson stated that he would no longer be his contact. Essentially, it was a letter of introduction to a new person—Joshua Stanton Creet who would come calling on him at noon the next day, and he was to give his report to him.

  Trent continued sipping his beer and thinking. What the hell does this mean? I don’t like changing my airboat in the middle of a swamp. What happened to Dobson? Wonder if they wanna change our agreement? Will this guy be as big a prick as ole Dobsey? Nothing I can do ’bout it. Time for bed.

  Trent was awakened around nine in the morning by a neighbor’s barking dog. He tossed and turned, put a pillow over his head, but it was useless. He despised that dog. It never seemed to fail that this would happen, especially if he needed sleep. He got up showered, shaved, and finished his report for the new contact while downing a piece of toast and a cup of black coffee. He was glad he had done most of the work earlier, because he had no idea he would be meeting and greeting a new man.

  At noon, as Trent expected, he heard a knock on the door. He opened it, and greeted a stocky, short stranger who was holding a small package in his hand.

  “Are you Joshua Creet?” Trent asked.

  “Yes,” he nodded.

  “Come in,” Trent said.

  “Thank you,” he said as he entered.

  “Have a seat at the table, Mr. Creet.”

  “Mr. Willobee, just call me Creet. That’s what everyone else calls me.”

  “Okay, Creet, I’d ’preciate it if you’d show me some identification.”

  “Not a problem,” he said as he flipped out his ID and handed it to Trent.

  Trent studied it for a minute, then looked up quizzically at Creet.

  “What’s the problem?” Creet asked.

  “Accordin’ ta this you ain’t workin’ for no Homeland Security?”

  “I work for the Defense Intelligence Agency D-I-A, do you have an issue with that?” He said, looking Trent squarely in the eyes.

  “Thought Dobson was under the gun at Homeland Security, and you’re from some other outfit. I find that a bit peculiar.”

  “We’re all interconnected in some way. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Maybe not, but what ’bout Dobson?”

  “This operation is now within my purview,” he said.

  “Why?” Trent asked.

  “Dobson has his hands full with other priorities. I’ve read all your reports, I’ve been fully briefed by Dobson, and I’m up to speed. Also, I’m well aware of your deal, and here’s payment,” he said, shoving the package across the table.

  “Thanks, I ’preciate it. You said you’ve read all my reports…well…you ain’t read this one,” Trent said, tossing his report across the table.

  “This looks a little lengthy,” Creet said, perusing the pages quickly through his half-glasses.

  “Just tryin’ to earn mah keep.”

  “I don’t know whether or not Dobson ever communicated it to you, but your intel collection has been very good,” Creet remarked.

  “Hmm…ole Dobsey never said nothin’. I figured what I got musta been okay, ’cause my money kept comin’. I know I shor as hell earned it. I guess Dobsey couldn’t help it, but he was a genuwine prick! Wait…maybe that’s givin’ em too much credit, ’cause a prick is the best part of a real man,” Trent said with a chuckle.

  “No offense, but are you always so colorful in your remarks?”

  “Sorry ’bout that, but ole Dobsey’s somethin’ else,” Trent replied.

  “I certainly hope you’re not gonna find me such a bother, because from what I’ve read, we’re gonna need to work a little more closely.”

  “Hmmm…guess that flickers ’nother kinda a light on things,” Trent said, fidgeting with his mustache.

  “Mr. Willobee,” he said, making eye contact, “It’s rather obvious you need more of our help.”

  “If ya think that now, wait ’ill after you read what I just wrote. By the way, no more of this mister stuff, I’m Willobee and you’re Creet,” Trent said with a smile.

  “I’ll need some time to analyze this,” he said, holding up the report, “Could we meet again tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know…you’d be messin’ in some of mah fun time. Day after tomorra would work a bit better.”

  “I understand, will noon work?” Creet asked.

  “Shor ’nuff,” Trent said, they both stood, and shook hands.

  “It’s been a pleasure, Willobee,” Creet said, looking back from the door.

  “Same here, Creet.”

  After Creet’s departure, Trent sat back down at the table, opened his package, and quickly counted the contents. Then he thought: kinda like Creet, he shor ain’t no Dobsey! Though it shor seems like I know him from somewhere….

  “What’s wrong, Hay?” Kit asked.

  “Nothin’s wrong, she replied appearing somewhat annoyed.

  “Oh yes there is. That man didn’t call ya, that’s what’s the matter,” Kit said.

  “Momma, just drop it!”

  “You’re thinkin’ all kinds of things ’bout why he hasn’t picked up the phone and called. You think I don’t understand?”

  “This doesn’t concern you,” Haylee replied.

  “Yes, it does concern me. Anytime you’re not yourself, I get concerned. Now stop all this nonsense and call the man! You don’t have to wait for him. Do somethin’!

  “You really think I should do that?” Haylee asked.

  “Have you ever known of me tellin’ ya to do something bad or wrong?

  “Of course not.”

  “Then, get on the phone!”

  “All right!” Haylee exclaimed.

  A few minutes later, Haylee went into her bedroom to call Trent at home. The phone rang and rang until his answer machine finally responded. She listened impatiently for the end of his greeting and then left a brief message. She continued to sit on the bed for a few minutes before rejoining her mother.

  “Well…what’d he say?” Kit asked.

  “I left a message,” Haylee responded softly.

  “Did ya call his house or his cell?” Kit asked.

  “I called him at home?”

  “He’s a busy man, call him on his mobile?”

  “So, you think it’s alright for me to chase him?”

  “Hay, what’s got into you? You ain’t chasin’ the man,
your trying to communicate with him!”

  “Momma, I don’t want to give him the impression that I’m insecure or a clinging vine.”

  “Do what you want, but if he was my man, I’d call him on his cell phone. When it came to your daddy, I’d ’ve crawled through a mile of dead bats and broken glass just to hear his voice. Guess you and me are different in that way,” Kit said, tearing up.

  “You’re probably right, I should try him on his cell.”

  “Good idea,” Kit replied.

  She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when the phone rang, and Haylee rushed to answer it.

  “Hello,” she said with a little quiver in her voice.

  “Sweetheart, it’s me. Got back late last night, had a short bidness meetin’ at noon’, and was outside shinin’ up Rocket One when ya called. Sorry ’bout that.”

  “That’s okay, it’s just good to hear your voice.” Haylee said.

  “Same here.”

  “Do you have plans for this evening?” She asked.

  “Yeah, I do.” Trent replied.

  “Oh, okay,” she said disappointedly.

  “Thought I might take a ride,” he paused, “over to yor house!” He said with a laugh.

  “Trenton Willobee, that’s not funny!”

  Haylee-Girl, I got a good memry, and I recall a while back you done somethin’ like that ta me,” he chortled.

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Course it ain’t, I didn’t think so, either!”

  “For goodness sake, would you like to have dinner with me and momma?”

  “You bet yor Oatman Restaurant apron I would!”

  “I take that as a yes.”

  “Correctomentay! What can I bring?”

  “You will do just fine.”

  “Ask Kit if she’d like red or white wine.”

  “She likes red, but it’s not necessary for you to do that.”

  “I’ll get a bottle of the white stuff for you, too. You seem ta like that. What time ya want me to show up?”

  “Six-thirty? That okay?”

  “I’ll be there. I been really missin’ ya. Can’t wait to see ya, Haylee-Girl.”

  Trent showed up at Haylee’s right on time with two bottles of wine in hand. The three of them had great food and conversation until about 8:30.

  “Trent, you mind wheelin’ me into the living room? I’d like to watch some news on TV, and you and Hay can have some time to yourselves.”

  “Kit, I’d be happy to chauffer ya,” he said with a smile.

  He wheeled her adroitly into the next room and positioned her in front of the TV.

  “Very impressive, you had practice drivin’ one of these things?” Kit asked.

  “I, uh, volunteer some at the VA hospital over in Prescott. Them ole boys need a little help now and agin. Thank the good Lord I came out whole, but a lotta them…well…life weren’t so kind.”

  “I didn’t know ’bout your volunteer work,” she said, looking up at him.

  “Let me git you the remote,” he said reaching for it.

  “Thanks, that’s awful good of ya,” Kit said.

  “No problem, my pleasure,” he said and returned to Haylee in the kitchen where she was cleaning up.

  “I overheard…you never told me you volunteer at the VA.” Haylee said.

  “Guess that just never came up, but yeah, I do what I can when I can. In fact, I planned ta make a run over to Prescott on Sunday. You like to go?”

  “Yes…yes, I’d like to do that,” she said, putting her arm around him.

  “Good, the ride ’ill be fun,” he said, giving her a big bear-hug.

  “You better watch it, big guy, I’m not a freakin’ tree!” She laughed and gave him a big kiss.

  “Well now, Haylee-Girl, I’ll be mindful ’bout that in the future, ’cause you shor don’t feel like a tree! You’re soft, sweet, and invitin’.” He said in a deep voice while hugging her close.

  “Now you better behave, momma’s in the next room.”

  “Don’t worry yorself, I’m not ’bout to git that woman mad at me.”

  “You comin’ in for breakfast tomorrow?” Haylee asked.

  “That’s a silly question, course I am! Man’s gotta eat, don’t he?”

  Time seemed to fly and Friday noon Creet came knocking, and he sat down with Trent at his table to discuss the report.

  “Trent, I know I don’t have to say it, but you’re skatin’ on the proverbial thin ice,” he said as he pitched the report upon table.

  “Yep, that’s ’bout what I’d call it.”

  “The things you’ve learned in Mexico and with this trucker, which you have not identified, if I may say, is very troubling. Do you have anything else to add before I send it up the line?”

  “Nothin’ I can think of right off hand.” Trent said.

  “At this point, we cannot allow terrorists and drug cartel activities to just continue to flow into this country,” Creet said.

  “That’s ’bout what I’s thinkin’.”

  “From what Dobson told me, you have at least one more scheduled run to Tijuana, that right?”

  “Got one more trip. I’ll be leavin’ in four days.”

  “We don’t have much time,” Creet said.

  “Time to do what?” Trent asked with raised eyebrows.

  “You have two people, one in Mexico, some guy named Escobar, and an unidentified fellow trucker in the States, who want answers from you. In fact, in short order.”

  “Whadaya spect me ta do?” Trent asked.

  “Simple, give ’em an answer.”

  “Look, Creet, I ain’t bringin’ damn Islamic terrorists cross no border. I done my time fightin’ them bastards!”

  “I get it, but your intel has brought us to this place in time, and we have to act on it. We can’t ignore that these uncivilized savages are coming to America to spread terrorism across this great country. If we did that, it would not only be unpatriotic, it’d be irresponsible, and un-American.”

  “Whadaya want me ta do?” Trent asked.

  “Play along with Escobar and the unidentified trucker.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean by play along.

  “Come on, Willobee, you know what I mean. Tell ’em you’re in. Call ’em and say yes.”

  “If I bring a diaper-head ’cross that border, they damn well better git killed or arrested and put in GITMO and not let out by some President!”

  “You may be assured that practically all agencies which deal with the security of our country will be involved in the killing of or apprehension of these enemy combatants. As you know, the current Administration has been emptying out GITMO like a five-cent bubblegum machine, but if this guy Donald Trump gets elected in November, that crap will stop come January 20,2017. We’ll have to see if that happens.”

  “Okay, I’ll make the calls this evenin’, but what ’bout my fellow trucker. I don’t like bein’ a rat.”

  “I guess it comes down to—do you care more about your country or your fellow trucker?” Creet asked.

  “Think you know my answer, but I gotta try to discourage my old friend from doin’ this.”

  “I fully understand, but if he participates, we’re gonna nail ’em. If he doesn’t, and someone else does, they’ll pay the price. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning to see how your calls went. With that, Willobee, I gotta get going.”

  “Before you go I was wunderin’ if we’d ever met before.” Trent said with a smile.

  “Not to my knowledge, but I have to admit, you seem familiar to me as well.

  “Now that I think of it, you remind me of an old Army buddy. Yeah, that’s it! That’s it—ole Wickersham!” Wic was a helluva soldier. Me and him always competed against each other. I’d always try to
take the lead in our convoy. We drove them ole Humvees.”

  “You stay in contact with him?” Creet asked.

  “No…he never made it back…one of them RPG’s took him out right in front of me,” he said as his voice trailed off.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Creet said.

  “He beat me to the punch that day, or it woulda been me.”

  “War is a helluva thing. Good men dying or coming home maimed. I admire guys like you. You and your friend, Wic, volunteered to serve—no one forced you to do it. That takes guts and love of country.” Creet said.

  “Yeah, I spose so.”

  “I don’t really know who you seem to remind me of, but someone,” he said with a smile

  “Mah girlfriend says I remind her of Sam Elliott—the actor—but I tell ’er I’m better lookin’.”

  “Now that you mention it, I think she’s right about Elliott. Still see him on old TV shows, movies, and hear his voiceover commercials. She paid you a compliment, because he’s very good at his craft. Before I forget it, I too, must compliment you.

  “’bout what?” Trent asked.

  “Your writing skills. I’m so happy you write without too much of an accent!” He laughed.

  “Sounds like you givin’ me some kinda left-handed praise, ’bout mah southern-western talk, but just so’s ya know, I took almost two years of college courses online when I was in the Middle East, and they were ’bout writin’, not talkin’,” Trent said with a smile and a wink.”

  No-no-no, it’s not left-handed at all, but I have to admit sometimes I do have some interpretation problems when we’re conversing. That’s not a criticism, but it’s a fact!” He said smiling brightly.

  “Glad that got cleared up,” Trent said with a smile.

  “By the way, I know when you’re out there, you’re pretty much on your own, but if you think I can help, just call. You do still have the phone, right?” Creet asked.

  “I used it once, but ole Dobsey more or less chewed my ass out. He sorta set me straight!”

  “In the past, I’ve been in similar situations, and I understand the feeling. You’re putting your life on the line for your country, Willobee, and I’ll do whatever I can, okay?”