by Eric Hodges
~~***~~
Eaton California was Smalltown, USA with its main drag, a few stoplights blinking red after 9:00pm and a late night diner still open. Wheeler pulled the VW into the parking lot next to a well used pickup and a shiny, old Chevelle. He liked old Chevys. They had a charm and character that reflected the owner like no late model Honda ever could. He sat at the end of the counter, down a few seats from the truck guy and the three young fellows from the Chevelle were talking girls and cars over cheeseburgers in a booth. It was after 10:00pm but he ordered a cheeseburger, fries and coffee anyway. Coffee never kept him awake and it was warm on the chilly night. The heater in the bus could not keep up with the air leaks and the cavernous interior.
“I haven’t seen you around here before” the fellow at the counter said, leaning over toward Wheeler, “you just passing through?”
“I’m looking to pick up some odd jobs here, replenish my supplies a bit.” Wheeler was not used to giving out too much information but he did want to know about the town. “Do you know where I might start?”
“I don’t know what kind a work you’re looking for but you might be able to help me out a bit. My sister owns the antique place across the street there.” He pointed out the window of the diner to a dim sign across the street on a building that said ‘Old Glorys’. Wheeler followed his pointed finger and saw the two front windows with furniture displays and old lamps lit up on each side of the door.
“She has been getting me to help her move displays around inside and do some deliveries with my truck. I don’t have time for her because I have my own welding shop to run. I have to make a living too.” He seemed to get more at ease as he spoke and Wheeler felt like they were fast friends. He liked small towns.
“My name’s Bob Keefer, I run Keefer Fab down the way” Bob said as he waved vaguely down the street. He held out his hand half lifting himself off the stool.
Wheeler did likewise and said “Just call me Wheeler.” Bob reached back to his coffee pulling it over next to Wheeler to seat himself more sociably noticing that Wheeler was only half way through the burger. At that moment, Wheeler got one of his incoming messages that were like thoughts remembered that had no previous record. He sometimes compared them to a psychic e-mail, one moment a clear mind and attention to the present, the next moment an urge to move someplace specific and be alert.
Bob was settling on the stool and Wheeler said “I have to go out to my bus for a second, I’ll be right back”.
He deliberately rose to allow his senses to take over and concentrated on appearing casual while he released his mind to become a clear channel to the next input. He overheard the boys in an animated conversation about carburetors as he walked past the booth to the door. He leveled his breathing and braced himself for the unknown as he opened the door and walked out to the VW. It was parked nose-in about ten feet to the left and Bob’s truck was just past it parked the same way. Wheeler walked to the front of the bus tuning his hearing up to its highest sensitivity. The feeling he had was that ‘it’s right here’. He walked lightly between the bus and the truck and stopped just at the back of the bus and leaned against the side putting equal weight on both feet.
‘Now is the time’ the new memory in his head assured him. Just then, a young man appeared sneaking around the bus from the back and his unfortunate furtive head turning directed his attention to the street, not to Wheeler standing in the shadow. He bumped firmly into Wheeler and yelped, instinctively trying to take a step forward. Wheeler was not surprised and had the presence of mind to grab his shirt at both sleeves right in the middle of the upper forearms. Wheeler pulled both of young man’s arms together behind his back and lifted him slightly off his feet, rendering him immobile and his arms useless. It was just the right move because the young fellow had small size pry bar in one hand and a slide hammer in the other, either one of which could be used as a weapon.
“Well, what do we have here?” Wheeler said in a tone befitting his true red-handed, obvious catch. The slide hammer the fellow carried is a tool with a strong screw at one end and a movable heavy weight that slides on a shaft along its length. It is screwed into a lock and the sliding weight pulls the tumbler out, rendering an ignition switch or door lock on a car a keyless mechanism. Wheeler had just interrupted a break-and-enter or possibly a car theft. Wheeler’s six feet, two inch height didn’t exactly tower over the young man but it was enough to look down and intimidate him in the shadows of the parking lot.
The young man was still in shock as Wheeler leaned down to speak with him quietly into his ear get his attention. He was in his late teens and his chest heaved with heavy breathing coupled with eyes very wide showing fear on the edge of panic.
“Here’s how this is going to play out” Wheeler said “you are going to drop both of the tools right now.” Wheeler paused to let him do it. The boy squirmed a bit testing Wheeler’s grip, weighing his chances.
Wheeler said “Right now” again, this time a bit more intense and tightened the shirt clamp pulling the boy’s arms and shoulders a bit closer together. The tools hit the ground.
“Very smart. Now we are going out to the street, I am going to let you go, and you are going to find another way to occupy your time.” Wheeler did not raise his voice but used his eyes affirm the seriousness of their one sided conversation. “Go to school, get a job or head off to the big city, I don’t care. The inside of my bus could be the last thing you see if you ever get in it, understand?” The boy nodded a bit too vigorously and Wheeler let him go. He took off into the dim lit street and was gone. Wheeler picked up the tools, put them in the side door of the bus and walked back into the diner.
Bob was comfortably seated on the stool next to his own half eaten burger by the time Wheeler walked back inside. Wheeler had only been outside about a minute and Bob seemed only interested in finishing the last of the meal.
“Is everything okay?” Bob inquired. It was a tone of just passing the time, not very interested.
“Oh sure, no problem, I just wanted to check something” Wheeler said. Incomplete information was better than making up a story, there is never a point to building complication. “So tell me Bob, what keeps you busy down at Keefer Fab?”
Bob finished a sip of his coffee and said to Wheeler “It's mostly a repair shop. I fix worn out trailers, farm equipment. Just welding and metal fabrication.”
“This seems like the right part of the world to run that kind of shop” Wheeler replied. “You probably do have a steady stream of jobs.” Wheeler sipped his coffee, prodding for more information.
“Yeah, pretty much. It's feast or famine and right now I'm feasting. Lee Gregor, he's a contractor in town, dropped off a generator last week and I’ve not been able to get to it. He needs to frame a new house out on highway 53 and there’s no electrical out there yet, and he broke the cross member on his generator. I have to lift the old Chrysler Hemi out that weighs a ton, get access to the frame and weld up the cracked frame so the monster doesn’t fall out.. I have a crane but it all has to be disconnected first, and then lifted out of the way so I can weld a new support under it.”
He got a serious look on his face and eyed Wheeler for a long moment before speaking again “Say, you wouldn’t be handy with tools and know anything about this stuff would you? I have a kid that works part time, as much as I can stand to have him there, but he is just not sure which end of the hammer to grab.”
Wheeler was finishing up the last of the French fries and thought ‘this is a good way to stay in town for a while; maybe the reason to be here is Bob’.
“I rebuilt the engine and transmission in my VW out there so getting a Hemi out of a frame sounds easy. I can start tomorrow if you like? If I can’t do it you won’t have to pay me”.
“Fair enough, we have a deal” Bob said as he stuck his hand out for Wheeler to shake, and a slim foothold was established in Eaton.
“Is there a YMCA in town here?”
Wheeler said obtusely managing Bob’s attention away from any more details. It was time to go.
Bob Keefer turned to Wheeler with a blank expression missing a half step of the conversation but picked up in just a moment “Yeah, it’s a few blocks down the street, left at the last stoplight”. He said it slowly and developed an inquiring expression.
Wheeler left money on the counter with a generous tip and got up saying “Great, I’ll see you in the morning then”. With Bob Keefer gaping, speechless, Wheeler headed back to the VW. He drove down the street to find the parking lot behind the YMCA, they usually are not particular who parks overnight in their lot.
He found it with no trouble and pulled into the lot, away from the building and shut off the VW. He folded the frame down along the inside of the bus, rolled out the foam sleeping pad and bedroll and was asleep in minutes.
