by Joe Hart
“Thanks.”
“What the hell happened, Mac?”
“The Barder boys, they’re the killers. They showed up last night and put a round through me and took Lynn before giving me a gasoline shower.”
“Holy shit.”
“I barely made it out. Is the fire under control now?”
“Not even close. They brought in a bunch of the state’s helicopters and dump-planes, but it doesn’t look like they’re going to contain it. It’s headed straight for Shillings. The mayor’s ordered an evacuation.” Danzig paused. “From what I gathered before all the fire units left, they think you started the blaze.”
“Wonderful. Let me see your phone.”
Danzig placed the device in his hand and he dialed the station’s number. An automated message played in his ear about the circuits being full but to try again later.
“Damn thing’s busy.” Gray erupted into a bout of coughing and doubled up against the seat restraint. They stopped at the paved road and Danzig began to turn right but Gray grasped the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?”
“Take me to your house.”
“Are you crazy? You need to go to Wheaton Medical, have you seen yourself?”
“I never was pretty.”
Danzig stared at him and tried to remove his hand from the wheel, but he held fast.
“I’ll walk if I have to, Dan.”
Danzig studied him for another span and then turned left, accelerating toward the veiling smog.
“You’re a stubborn bastard, I ever tell you that?”
Gray closed his eyes.
~
He came awake as the truck halted in front of Danzig’s shop.
“We have arrived,” Danzig said, his words still muffled behind the gas mask. Gray sat up, holding a hand over the bullet wound. When he opened the door the cloying air came rushing in that had been filtered out by the truck’s ventilation. The smell of musky ozone hung thick in the yard and a tangible mist swirled between the trees. Gray held out his palm and saw that it was minute flakes of ash falling from the sky.
“It’s the fucking fertilizers along with the drought,” Danzig said, rounding the truck’s bumper. “Like I said before, they didn’t take into account the flammability of that shit during dry times. I saw a field of corn on the way to your place go up like it was hit with napalm.”
“Yeah, this year’s crop might be down a bit.”
“I would say.”
“How many guns do you have?”
“Two. My old pump shotgun and my dad’s Taurus.”
“Get them and meet me in the shop.”
“You can’t be serious about this, Mac. You’re shot, your face is busted up, you’ve probably got smoke inhalation.”
“Probably. Listen, they took Lynn and no one’s going to go find her except me, now I need you to get me those guns.”
Danzig stood motionless, the flakes of ash falling around him.
“Us,” he said at last.
“What?”
“No one’s going to go find her but us.”
Gray smiled and then nodded toward the shop. “I’ll be in there.”
Ten minutes later Danzig returned holding an archaic looking Remington shotgun and a box of shells along with a massive, shining revolver holstered in leather. A pair of boots along with several pairs of socks were tucked beneath his arm. Gray had found some of Danzig’s overalls and modified them to fit, tying the waist with a belt of electrical cord and trimming the sleeves and pant legs off. He reached for the handgun as Danzig swung it toward him.
“You look ridiculous.”
“I was gonna say the gas mask is a great accessary for you.”
“This is to save my lungs, asshole.”
“This is to save my dignity,” Gray said, pulling once at the oversized clothing.
“I would say that’s long gone.”
Gray tugged the Taurus from its holster, drawing the six-inch barrel out into the open. Raging Bull was lasered across it in dark lines.
“How many rounds do you have?”
Danzig handed him a box along with a speed loader. “Maybe twenty. Went targeting the other day and didn’t get a chance to special order any more. Four-fifty-four is hard to come by.”
Gray swung the belt around his waist and fastened it, the huge pistol’s grip sticking up near his right side. The belt pinched his wound and he winced.
“You sure you aren’t gut-shot?”
“Yeah. I’d be dead if I was,” Gray said, bending over to pick up the boots Danzig had brought.
“These are a little big.”
“Only two sizes, right? Put the socks on, they’ll take up the extra room.”
Gray layered the socks and tucked his feet inside the boots. They fit well enough to walk in. He shoved the box of shells and the speed loader into his opposite pocket and then patted his thigh several times until he realized what he was doing and grimaced.
“What’s wrong?”
“My knife. It was in the house.”
Danzig’s eyes twinkled above the gas mask and he reached into his back pocket, drawing out Gray’s knife. The steel handle glimmered under the overhead lights and other than a little soot marring one end, it appeared unharmed.
“How?” Gray asked, accepting the weapon.
“Spotted it while I was fishing around for your corpse in the wreckage.”
Gray triggered the knife and the blade shot out like a spear, retreating inside the handle when he touched the button again.
“It’s fine,” Gray said in amazement.
“That little bastard is tempered at a thousand degrees Fahrenheit, that forest fire ain’t got nothing on me.”
“I thought the gas would explode inside it,” Gray said, bending to tuck the knife, blade down, into the side of his boot.
“I thought so too, but the casing didn’t fracture. What are you doing?”
“Don’t want all my eggs in the same basket.”
Gray rose and put his hand on the doorknob, his eyes trailing across the long bench. A padded tray holding four ball bearings the size of eggs sat on its surface. He reached out and grabbed the tray, placing two of the Tin-Snippers in his pocket and handed the others to Danzig.
“We might need these.”
“Along with some luck.”
“Fucking luck.”
“Fucking luck.”
Gray nodded once to his friend and they stepped out of the building into the steadily darkening day.
Chapter 40
Alien yellow light filled the air moted with scales of ash.
They drove through it along the road that would fade and reappear with the breeze. Gray looked up through the truck’s window at the sky and saw that not only did the smoke coat the sun, but a layer of clouds had also formed, tumorous and thick.
He took Danzig’s phone off the console again, thinking for a second before dialing a number. A man’s voice answered on the second ring.
“Sheriff’s department.”
“Please connect me with Sheriff Enson.”
“He’s out of the office right now, can I please—”
“He damn well better be out of the office, there’s a forest fire rampaging across the next county. This is Sheriff MacArthur Gray and you will put me through to him, son, if you enjoy being employed by the county.”
“Yes sir, sorry sir. I’ll patch you right through.”
“Thank you.”
There was a hesitation and short bark of static before the phone began to ring again on the other end.
“What is it?” Enson answered, his voice rough as if he’d been coughing.
“Well good afternoon to you too, Mitchel.”
A blast of silence. “Gray, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Well at the moment I’m headed toward the Barder residence to arrest Darrin and Adam for murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, arson, breaking and entering, and anything else I ca
n think of on the way.”
“Are you insane? The Barder boys? Vincent’s sons? They’re who you’re trying to pin the fire on?”
“Since they’re the ones that started it, yes, I am, along with all the other things I mentioned before that.”
“You’ve completely lost it, Gray. Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“Mark Twain summed that up nicely about two hundred twenty years ago. In other words, I’m not.”
“You need to turn yourself in, this fire isn’t stopping, Gray. You have a lot to answer for.”
“Are you not listening to me, Mitchel? Darrin and Adam are the killers, it’s been them the whole time, them and someone else that’s been planning this. They’ve been kidnapping women and children from Widow Town and now they’ve taken Lynn. I need you to send backup out to their farm. For once in your life, Mitchel, do the right thing and trust me.”
“Don’t go anywhere near the Barders’ farm, Gray. You’re delusional and you need help. Besides the fire’s headed in that direction, the whole area’s turned into hell itself.”
“Remember this conversation, Mitchel, because I’m going to recite it when I see you released from your position.”
“Fuck yo—”
Gray ended the call and put the phone in his chest pocket.
“So it went well, I take it?” Danzig said, his eyes never leaving the road.
“One thing you can say about Mitchel, he’s consistent.”
“Consistently ignorant.”
“Yeah.”
“So we’ve got no cavalry coming?”
“None, he won’t risk sending any of his deputies in front of the fire.”
Danzig sighed, the sound mimicking the wind buffeting the truck.
They passed into the edges of town, the buildings obscure and hazy in the strange light. There were no other vehicles on the road, the streets parched veins devoid of flowing traffic and people. On the north side of the city limits they got their first glimpse of the fire.
It was a wall of flame shooting fifty feet in the air. Its lapping tongues twisted and turned in the wind as it rolled forward, stretching out in a wave of orange and black boiling smoke. The border of a cornfield ignited, fire branching out across its green stalks like a web. In less than a minute the entire field burned, coiling embers into the sky.
Gray pulled his eyes away from the devastation and drew out Danzig’s phone again, dialing his own office one last time. A recording played in his ear, telling him to leave a message but he hung up before the tone.
“How long you think we have before that reaches the Barders’?” Danzig asked.
“Maybe an hour, not more than two.”
“What’s our escape route?”
“Take six west until we can circumvent it I suppose.”
“We taking these boys alive?”
“We’ll see.”
Danzig guided the truck onto the county road, having to slow to a crawl to make sure it was the correct number. They drove in silence, flakes of ash sliding across the windshield. When the Barders’ turn came into view Danzig coasted into the drive and shut off the headlights.
“We going in through the front?”
“I think we have to. Hopefully the sick bastards haven’t killed their father and we can get him out.”
They cruised up the lane, the trees to either side cloaked in a thickening darkness as the day fell around them. The house came into view and movement caught Gray’s attention near the garage door. Vincent hauled a large duffle to the back of his car and hoisted it into the trunk. His blond hair was in disarray and his movements were jerky and frenetic. A man in the grip of panic. The doctor’s gaze fell upon them as they coasted to a stop and it almost looked like he was going to return to the house without addressing them, but he waited, his eyes flitting from Danzig’s gas-masked face to Gray’s bloodied appearance, then to the weapons they carried as they stepped out of the truck.
“Hello, doctor,” Gray said.
“Sheriff, what’s going on?”
“There’s not a lot of time to discuss this. Are your sons inside?”
“No, they’re closing up all the outbuildings and silo. We’re getting ready to leave.” The doctor’s drawn face collapsed. “Is this about Ryan? Did you…did you find him?”
“No,” Gray said, glancing across the stained air of the farmyard to the looming shapes of the barns and silo. Nothing moved but the dancing cornstalks in the field beyond.
“Then what’s this about? We need to get moving, the fire is coming in this direction.”
“Your sons started the fire,” Gray said, fixing the other man with a stare.
Barder froze, all the frenzied movement of before leeched from him.
“What?”
“They came to my house last night and tried to kill me.” Gray unzipped his coverall, showing the other man the blood-glazed hole in his side. “They took my ex-wife with them after dousing my home and yard in gas.”
The doctor shook his head once, his mouth hanging open.
“No, that’s impossible. They were home last night, they were here.”
“I saw their faces, doctor, they were in my house. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
“No. Why would they do that? They wouldn’t hurt anyone, they’re not killers.”
“We need to get out of the open,” Danzig said, cradling his shotgun as he surveyed the outbuildings.
“They’re good boys, my sons. They wouldn’t do that, it’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, doctor. I wouldn’t ever make an accusation like that without knowing for sure.”
“No, they’re…they’re my boys. They’re not—”
The doctor paused and slowly stopped shaking his head. He blinked, frowning.
“What is it?” Gray asked.
“I…I heard something last night and I thought I was dreaming.”
“What was it?”
“I thought I heard a…a woman scream.” He looked up into Gray’s face, the caving of belief sagging his features. “I thought I was dreaming,” he repeated, his voice growing weak.
“Okay, it’s okay. We’ll work all this out. What I need now is to get Darrin and Adam to come in peacefully and we can talk about everything. There’s no need for this to end in bloodshed.”
Vincent’s head bobbed but his eyes were blank, his lips moving as if he were silently reading something.
“Let’s go,” Gray said, putting a gentle hand on the doctor’s shoulder.
They walked abreast down the center of the path between the outbuildings. Danzig drifted to the right, checking a shed door that was locked with a large padlock. Gray and Vincent moved left along the immense steel-shelled barn. The wide sliding door was closed and locked, as was the man-door beside it. All was quiet except for the hushing whisper of the corn and the gusts of wind from the east bringing a subtle rumble that was more felt than heard. The air moved like something alive around them as they walked through it, seeing no more than a hundred yards in any direction.
The silo came closer as Danzig rejoined them, shaking his head when Gray looked at him. The towering structure stretched up into the choking atmosphere, a rounded obelisk obscured by the drifting smoke. The outlines of a steel door solidified and Gray approached it, placing his hand on the knob. It turned easily. He motioned to Danzig who raised the shotgun, positioning himself directly in front of the entry.
“Please, just be careful and don’t hurt them. Please,” Vincent whispered.
Gray considered the doctor for a moment and then tipped his head once before he shoved the door inward and paused, raising the pistol from his side. Danzig kept the barrel pointed into the silo and finally nodded. Gray swept inside, keeping low and tight to the wall.
The air smelled of grain above the stink of smoke. A deep, heady scent that seemed tangible enough to cut. A pile of wheat stretched from one side of the silo to the other but came barely past Gray’s height in the center, the edges slop
ing down to bare concrete floor. The steel walls flew up to the cathedral ceiling six stories above and an eyelet of sky winked through a small hole in the vaulted roof. The circular space was dark and still.
Gray waved one hand behind him, motioning the other two men inside and began to move around the perimeter, his vision adjusting to the dimness. A long grain elevator and its chain leaned against the wall, running up to and ending at a paneled access door high on the silo’s side. Cobwebs undulated in the drafts. Their footsteps echoed and crackled with the chaff beneath their boots. Gray kept the barrel of the gun moving as he walked, both hands on the grip. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that Vincent was following Danzig in the opposite direction. The wind creaked against the building, the entire structure griping with the pressure. On the opposite side of the wheat, they met and stopped, Gray lowering the gun to his side.
“They’re not here,” he said, glancing at the doctor. “Where else could they be?”
Vincent shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s the old root cellar but we haven’t used that in years.”
“Where is it?”
“Farther down the path, but there’s no reason for them to go there, it’s locked and below ground.”
Danzig scanned the high walls and then nudged some wheat with his boot.
“They must’ve saw us coming and ran,” Gray said. “Let’s take a look at the root cellar and then we’ll have to leave, there’s no other choice.”
Danzig nodded and began to walk away. Vincent followed as Gray threw a final look around the silo. He took one step, the sound of his boot clunking on wood very loud. He looked down at the wooden panel set in the floor, as wide and tall as a man. Its surface was painted the same color as the pale concrete and it blended perfectly save a finger hole drilled into one end. Gray stomped on the panel again, listening to the hollow thunk.
“Doctor, what’s this?”
Vincent came back and studied the board.
“I think it’s the main elevator motor housing. My workers usually handle all of the harvest, I just oversee from time to time.”
Gray knelt and placed his index finger in the hole, lifting the panel up.
A steel door was set in the floor beneath it.
