by Chris Bostic
When he braked, I got a better look at what turned out to be little orange circles on plywood boards. They sat to the rear of a vast backyard.
As I squinted to compare the location of the boards to the rest of property, I noticed how they seemed to line up perfectly with a big wooden deck off the back of the house.
I grabbed Lee by the wrist and pointed it out. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Depends on what you think.” Lee set the parking brake and leaned over to follow my pointing through the trees. “I think that explains your shooting.”
“Target shooting, next to a distillery. Sounds fucking brilliant.”
“Yep, and with neighbors around. But you’re thinking like a city girl.” Lee kept squinting through the woods. “Really, it’s not a big deal if they’re facing that direction, from the deck into the woods at the back of the yard.” He turned to look up our hill. “Not sure how they’d possibly hit a rack house unless there was some sort of weird deflection.”
“Or some idiot’s shooting into the air.”
“That’s more likely.”
“Well, at least that explains some things,” I said, but it didn’t put me totally at ease. “Can’t say I love knowing that people are shooting right next to us…and probably hitting our buildings. Really makes me feel good about walking around outside.”
“Better than fireworks, I suppose. But yeah, we need to go check that rack house, then we can call the cops to give ‘em a talking to.”
“Just talking?”
“It’s not in city limits, so there’s probably no law against shooting in your backyard, as long as it’s done safely,” Lee explained. “That’s what we used to do at my folks’ house all the time.”
“Bounce shit off the neighbor’s property?” I said with my trademark sass.
“Oh hell no. We were much more careful.” He gave one last look at the makeshift shooting range. “I don’t see how their set-up wouldn’t work though. The cops won’t say anything unless we find evidence over on H.”
“Then let’s head over there,” I said, more than ready to find something to shut down our neighboring shooting gallery.
Lee took off the brake and rolled the UTV another twenty yards or so, glancing up the hill the whole time.
We ground to a halt again.
“Hang on a minute,” he declared. “This is the perfect spot to show you what I meant.”
“Now?”
I bent over to glance under the roof. The vantage point looked pretty solid, but I still wasn’t onboard with the whole photo thing. At least not with me as the subject.
“We can just get back,” I said. “It has to be super late.”
Lee looked down at his phone and started flipping quickly through some screens. “Shit. Hold on.”
“Gotta find the right filter?” I joked, but he didn’t reply right away. “What’s up?”
“I missed a call. Dammit.” He visibly blanched then turned away so I wouldn’t see. “Something’s wrong.”
“What now? More camera troubles?”
He just kept flipping through his phone.
I slid over to where I could get a glimpse at the screen. He wasn’t looking at the camera feeds. He stared at a text message that I couldn’t make out in a quick glance.
At the same time, my phone vibrated.
I plucked my cell out of my pocket and looked at the screen slack jawed.
The simple message read, Shelter in Place.
CHAPTER 14
“What the hell’s going on, Lee?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you send those message out?”
“I’m not the only one that can,” he mumbled.
“So we should go,” I said, more a statement than a question, as we both grew visibly agitated.
“Yes…and no.” When I looked at him funny, he said, “I don’t want to rush into anything.”
I gulped at the stress building in the back of my throat. It felt like trying to swallow a washcloth.
“I guess.” I looked around and cleared my throat again. “Better safe here than up there,” I said, tentatively.
“Yeah, except we can’t tell what’s going on from down here.”
That was true. The crest of the hill blocked everything except a couple rack houses and the top of the still tower. The perfect backdrop for a promo pic any other time. At least it reminded me of a question.
“What about your cameras?”
“The feeds are dead from all the rack houses except A and F.” He went back to flipping quickly through grainy images, though most looked solid black to me. “Nothing but gray haze from Distillation. The others are totally dead.”
I leaned over even farther until my chin rested on his shoulder. He was exactly right, as I had expected. The black screens all noted NO SIGNAL, while the grainy few showed barren hallways in a couple rack houses.
“Let me see Distillation,” I said, not like I had any idea what I was looking for.
He tapped the screen a couple times and wound up on a page that showed little more than swirling gray. The way the color blended and moved like a black and white psychedelic painting, I got the impression it had to be more than a poor feed.
“Something’s up in there,” I said. “Maybe like a towel over the camera, blowing in the wind.”
“That’s pretty specific.” Lee cupped a hand around the phone to better shade it from the sun. “It kinda looks like smoke to me.”
“Oh, shit. We sure don’t need a fire.”
“No, we don’t.” Lee squinted toward the tower. “At least there’s no sign of smoke up there.”
“Maybe it’s still contained inside,” I said, though I really didn’t know if fires worked that way or not.
“I guess we better go check it out.” He put his phone away. “Those damn alerts are useless.”
“Do they send a signal or whatever to the cops? Like those business alarms you were talking about?”
“No, not even that. They’re not good for much of anything.”
“Just good enough for getting my heartrate up. Who needs cardio when I’ve gotta deal with this shit all the time?”
“True story.” Lee pressed on the gas pedal and the UTV took off like a rocket. In addition to working seatbelts, I decided what it really needed was a windshield. Then again, the breeze felt nice enough on a miserable afternoon.
I switched hands with the pistol so I could grip the outside handle at the edge of the seat, and bent my head over to keep the wind out of my face. I looked up enough to see that Lee kept us along the edge of the woods, circling around the property in the opposite direction of the main entrance.
After bouncing along some rough terrain for a short while, thoroughly aggravating my stomach, Lee slowed. He turned the vehicle to face uphill directly in line with the distillation building.
“Looks fine to me,” he said.
I stared up there for a while, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary.
No smoke rose from the structure. Nothing red or orange glowed on the inside, though it was difficult to be certain since there was some kind of dark solar coating on the windows.
“It’s looks normal enough.” I checked my phone again to no avail. “So now what?”
Lee shrugged. “I suppose they’re gonna want me back by the gate.” He looked over at me. “But I don’t like you going back to the office alone.”
“I’d rather not either…at least until we know what’s going on.” A sudden question struck me. “But who triggers the lockdown text or whatever if it’s not you?”
Lee’s foot slipped off the brake, making us roll backwards. He jammed his foot down, whipping my neck in the process.
“Oof.” I side-eyed him as I rubbed at my neck.
“Sorry. You just, uh, got me thinking.” A long pause ensued. “Shit.” He put his head in his hands. “That’s a damn good question. I don’t know exactly.”
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“You’re in charge of security and you don’t know?”
“I know others can, in the office and out in production, but I don’t know how to find out who did it.”
“Maybe it’s like a panic button in the gift shop or something?” I asked, my mind somehow always returning to the shortcomings at Bison Fork.
“We don’t have one of those.” He stayed slumped over and began muttering to himself.
“Of course not. But you know how to initiate the message?”
“Yeah, I can do it on my phone, but it’s through a website. Basically it’s like sending a mass email.” He lifted his phone. “I don’t think, but…I gotta wonder if I can find a way to see who logged in.”
I sat back in my seat and decided to check some social media for any type of clue while Lee searched on his end.
Other than some unfunny memes and a bunch of annoying political stupidity, my friends hadn’t shared anything about an incident at our site. Not surprising there, so I did a couple quick searches on Old Tyler to see if anything popped up.
I quickly excluded my marketing posts to focus on other mentions. Not a whole lot came up other than a few photos of people touring in the last couple weeks.
I stopped on one from earlier in the day.
Being a weekday, it had been slow. Even so, it came as no surprise that I found a typical bachelor party group posing inside Rack House F. We used that one for all our tours.
In the background of one of their photos, way down the corridor away from the group, a dark shape stood out as odd. I zoomed to the point the image pixelated badly, but it was clear enough to see a thick arm reaching above the figure’s head, fiddling with something in the ceiling.
Not a light bulb.
“Lee, check this out.”
I held the phone out for him. He shielded the screen from the sun and squinted.
“No shit,” he muttered.
“Is he messing with your camera?”
“Sure as hell looks like it.” He growled under his breath. “The big, dumb son-of-a-bitch needed a damn stepladder though.”
It was a big shadow alright. One working in a rack house, which I’d learned narrowed it down to several possible suspects. One made more sense than others.
“Little Willie?”
“Too short,” Lee replied. “But it’s another guy on his crew.”
“Who’s that?”
“Darrell, but they all call him Bowling Ball.”
“I could see where that makes sense,” I said as I took the phone back to stare at the picture.
“Hell yeah.” He growled again. “You know the damn the barrel crew was supposed to be rotating inventory in D while we were off uhm…you know?”
“Yeah, that,” I said, remembering all too well what we were up to earlier.
“Let me see that time again,” Lee said, and looked at the date and timestamp on the post. “Yep. He split off from the crew for a while to do something.”
“And now F doesn’t have a camera feed.”
“Exactly.” He exhaled. “Ah crap. Now do I go back to the gate and check in, or go confront this guy?”
I knew what he’d say before he got the words out. Lee was always one to gather evidence first, then go from there.
“We better go to F and check out that camera.”
“Eff me,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Perhaps later.”
CHAPTER 15
We continued our circle around the perimeter of the property, staying at the bottom of the hill rather than heading straight up to Building F.
I knew the property well enough that I wasn’t concerned about Lee taking the long way. It’s what I would have done if I was on a clandestine research mission.
By staying low, we were well out of sight from the main office and gift shop area, as well as Distillation—even when we made our approach to the back of the rack house.
Lee didn’t rush up the hill. He kept the UTV at a steady pace where the motor rumbled but didn’t get up to the high-pitched whining that would have carried way across the complex.
He swung in right next to the side door and killed the motor. The key went into his pocket.
“Guess I’m coming with you,” I said, after taking a deep breath to try, and fail at, steadying my nerves.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He hopped off the seat and reached out to take his pistol from me. I gladly handed it over. “Just make sure you stay behind me.”
“I better if you’re gonna be pointing that thing around.”
“Maybe you’d like it better if you had your own.” Lee kicked his foot up on the seat and pulled up a pant leg. I’d forgotten he carried a backup. “Got a nice lady-sized version here.”
“Who says I’m a lady?” I didn’t have to think long before I held out a hand. “Reckon I broke a few rules already. Might as well keep going.”
His backup was a pretty silver one too, though definitely not my favorite. On our trips to the indoor shooting range by my apartment, I’d found out that larger pistols worked better for me. The smaller ones seemed harder to aim and hurt my hand with the recoil.
As I held it, I turned up my nose. “It’s almost too girly.”
“Aren’t you?” he said, though he knew better.
“Sometimes. Not today.”
“Good point.” Lee traded me, handing over his daily carry pistol to me butt first. “I should’ve known you’d might like this one better.”
“Yes I do.” I hefted the weapon in my hand and it just felt right, though I had to snicker at the tiny little gun in Lee’s big hand.
The snicker ebbed when I thought back to the mission at hand. I held the bigger gun out for him. “You know, you should use what you’re comfortable with. That’s way more important.”
He waved me off.
“I like this one or I wouldn’t carry it.” He tightened his hand around the grip and a shiny little green pinpoint appeared on the siding of the rack house. “Besides, I like the laser sight too, especially in the dark.”
Lee racked the slide and looked at me expectantly. I did the same.
“Good.” Then he repeated his mantra from our range trips, saying, “Now remember, the couple that shoots together, stays together.”
I turned up my nose at that too. “Hopefully not today, Cowboy.”
“Then just remember to stay together.”
I nodded at that.
Lee set his jaw in a firm line, took a deep breath between gritted teeth, and exhaled. “Let’s do this.”
He went to ease the door open only to find it locked. I thought they typically weren’t that way in the daytime, though it didn’t seem completely out of the ordinary.
The little pistol went into the front pocket on his pants while he fished out the wad of keys.
It didn’t take him long to find the master. With a click, he said, “Let’s try that again.”
He retrieved his pistol, then opened the door noiselessly and passed it back to me. I reached out for it and followed inside right on his heels.
The place was deathly quiet.
With a hand above his shoulder, Lee waved me on. I stayed right behind him, looking side to side into the darkness. There wasn’t much to see besides three-high rows of barrels on both sides as far as I could make out.
The ceiling seemed oppressively low, though not any different than the other buildings. Still, I got the claustrophobic feeling that made the back of my mouth water.
As our shoes shuffled on the old floor, I swallowed at the horrible bile taste.
I knew another door waited for us at the far end of the long house. It’s where the normal group tours always started.
The frat boys in the picture would have taken their photo right by there, meaning we had a little walk before we found what Bowling Ball had been tinkering with.
Lee kept plodding along. Though I knew his nonchalance meant nothing would be in front of us except for rick after rick of ba
rrels, I ducked to the side anyway to get a quick peek around him.
As expected, the aisle was empty. The cracks around the doorframe at the far wall formed what could be described as the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.
Lee came to a halt, whispering, “Quiet as a morgue, isn’t it?”
“Nice choice of words.” I scowled and asked, “Anything weird yet?”
“Just you.” He smiled at his lame attempt at humor. “What?”
“Charming, man. Real charming.”
“That’s me,” he said with his typical grin.
“At least I didn’t say you couldn’t get laid in a morgue.”
“True story.”
“About the morgue thing?” I joked, stifling a laugh at how easy he was to pick on sometimes.
“No,” he blustered. “The weird thing…about you.”
“That was lame,” I replied.
Lee just shook his head. “Can we get back to business?”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I replied with a classic line since I hadn’t used that one in a while.
Lee put his hands on his hips. “What is up with you all of a sudden?”
“Nothing. I’m just along for the ride…and the comic relief.”
“Female comedians,” Lee said derisively. “I’ve never seen a funny one.”
I gave it some thought for a second and couldn’t come up with any names to dispute the theory. Then again, comedy was pretty subjective, and Lee sure didn’t appreciate my particular brand of it sometimes.
I let it drop and said, “Alright, so where’s the camera?”
“Up ahead.” Lee was already looking that direction.
He waved us forward, still moving slowly even though there was no apparent reason to justify such caution. If anything, I just wanted to be done with the whole episode. And the whole day; possibly the week.
He stopped underneath a crossbeam and holstered his pistol. Then reached up to a small camera no bigger around a soda can. Thanks to his long limbs, unlike the short and stocky Bowling Ball, he plucked the camera right off its mount without needing a stepladder.
He turned it over in his hand, gazing first at the lens and saying, “No red lights. It’s not recording.”
