by Eric Hodges
CHAPTER 20
STORM
Wheeler opened the door to get out as Walt Carter jerked it open and got right in Wheeler's face. “What do you think you're trying to pull?”
“Hold on Mr. Carter” Wheeler said lifting himself slowly to get out of the truck and not push any of Walt's buttons. “Just what is this all about?” Best not to admit to anything until you know the accusation, Wheeler thought.
“There is no Boone Oil or Boone Drilling or Boone anything. I checked all my sources and came up with nothing.” Wheeler stayed quiet but smirked at what was probably Walt's personal Google search team. “So tell me Mr. Wheeler, what is the game here?”
“There's no game. Mr. Boone is a very private man and goes to great lengths to keep a very low profile. He is worth a lot of money.”
“If he's worth so much money, why are you driving around in an ancient VW and working for Bob Keefer, for heaven sakes?” Walt still had his head of steam going but the pressure dropped just a bit.
“I don't work for Mr. Boone” Wheeler deadpanned. “I'm just a contractor for his exploration group. They give me locations, addresses or contacts, I go out and take core samples and send them back. That's all.” His delivery was measured and smooth in a calm voice. He hoped it worked.
Walt just stared for a moment, visibly calming. He was turning over the information, probably trying to figure out how to be heavy handed and get his way in what had just become a bog. The guy was all wound up with nowhere to go.
“All right Mr. Wheeler, but let me warn you: If there are any irregularities or even hints of impropriety, I will hunt you down and make your life a living hell if you still have one to live. Good day!”
Walt was huffing as he turned on his heel and stomped over to his SUV. He flung the door open, got the truck going and had to drive back and forth a few times to extract the SUV from the tight quarters. He roared off when he was clear.
Bob and Wheeler had been holding back guffaws and could finally let loose, their mirth echoing off the walls to the driveway and the bay door to the shop.
They chuckled their way up to the bay door, Bob negotiating the entrance. Wheeler waited for the door to open fully and started to walk into the back of the shop. He froze at the doorway, not going in. Bob was a few steps into the shop when he realized Wheeler wasn't following. He turned back and started to say something when Wheeler said “Bob! Let’s go!” Now it was Bob who froze. Wheeler continued “Right now and shut the door!” Bob started to go back out band picked up speed quickly.
“What the...” was all he could get out.
“Let's go and get the door shut” Wheeler urged. Bob dealt with the door and Wheeler continued “Into the VW and hurry.”
They both jumped into the van and sped away as fast as the rumbly old thing could go. Wheeler screamed through the gears before Bob could get a word out. “Why are we doing this and where are we going?”
With a grim face and white knuckles on the steering wheel “Alice” is all he said. Bob's eyes got wide, but he stayed silent.
They roared up the drive to the old farmhouse, slid to a stop and bolted to the back kitchen door, slamming it open. Alice squeaked out a sharp “Hey! What's got you all riled up” as she faced them with a dish towel wiping her hands.
“Alice, are you okay?” Bob said between huffs and puffs.
“Sure, why not?” she replied quite calmly.
“Wheeler thought... and we...” Bob's response just trailed off to nothing. He looked at Alice for a moment more until he noticed her looking at Wheeler. He turned to look at Wheeler. Wheeler had his eyes squinted and was slowly rotating his head this way and that with a look that was both attentive and faraway. Nobody moved.
It was Wheeler that spoke “It's not time yet, we have to go.” He turned and walked out with Bob following a few steps behind. “Hey, what's the deal now?” He was exasperated and getting peeved. Bob had only a hint of danger at the shop and now Wheeler was acting almost like a zombie.
Wheeler stopped and straightened up. When he turned back he had a normal expression and calm demeanor. “Oh yeah, sorry Bob. Get Alice out, would you please? We have to go.”
“Hey Wheeler, look here.” Bob said, now calming down a bit from the excitement. He grabbed Wheeler by the shoulders and turned him back to face the house “Let's just go back inside and grab a little lunch, it's time and I'm a little hungry. And you can explain to us just what the heck is going on.”
Wheeler looked slowly at the house as if checking the paint before he answered “Sure” and into the kitchen they went.
“Well, what was that all about? You boys are giving me the jitters!” Alice said.
“How about some sandwiches and coffee, and Wheeler here can do a bit of explaining. I'll make a fresh pot” Bob said to try got get things back to normal.
Bob and Alice set about their tasks and Wheeler sat at the table alone, gathering his thoughts. Truth be told, he was trying to assemble the seemingly random facts into some kind of order with his new inner urges. Seeing Jack Hudson at the diner a while ago was what drew him in for coffee, but the meeting with the young guy only brought more questions. The whole thing was a hint, to show him there was movement in the playing field, but the scoreboard was still obscure.
Alice brought the sandwiches as the coffee pot bubbled in earnest. Bob joined them with a look to Wheeler that said “Talk or I'll hurt you buster.” Bob was trying to be stern and it partially worked.
Wheeler began “We stirred up some kind of pot when we sent the fake bills to the Feds. It raised some interest way outside of our small town of Eaton and what I was just sensing was the positioning of the players with some kind of movement. Of who or what I don't know, but it seemed powerful and dangerous. It's just that we must be on guard to make sure it's not aimed here.” He waved his arm vaguely across the kitchen. Silence ensued for a moment and he lifted the sandwich. “Hey, this is good. This is the meatloaf from last night, right?”
“Of course” Alice replied. “And a bit of scraping off the pantry floor, some particularly vibrant mold from the back of the fridge and some additional gray meat or cheese I found on the counter” she said, taking a bite of her own sandwich with a particularly smug, haughty expression.
“Huh?” Wheeler replied, sure he was missing something.
“Children, focus!” Bob cut in. “What I want to know is whether or not we are in danger. I must say, Wheeler, sometimes your insights give me the creeps.” He looked over to Wheeler hoping for an answer.
Wheeler put his sandwich down, “The feelings I had were strongly indicating danger, but I was the one that jumped to the conclusion it was aimed here. Now, I don't think so. Whatever ‘it’ is, it's not here, but it's somewhere. Sorry, that sounds spacey even to me. Probably there's nothing to worry about.”
The tension had completely dissipated as they all enjoyed a piece of last night's pie and more coffee, nobody wanted to get lunch over with. They all pitched in to clean up and Alice decided to stay at the farm for the rest of the day.
Wheeler and Bob stepped out of the back kitchen door and saw it at the same time. Out to the west, starting at the horizon, was a huge tower of black angry smoke, rising a few hundred feet in the air. It had to have been burning for a while it to be so big. It appeared large because it was within a mile of the house.
“Alice, call the fire department” Bob yelled, “the Carter farm is on fire!” Alice peeked out the door to see the smoke and disappeared back inside. Bob and Wheeler walked out toward the road to get a better look and Bob said “Black smoke like that means there is plenty of fuel and the fire is expanding. That place is going up like a cardboard box, there might not be much left.” Bob turned toward the house and yelled “Come on out Alice, let's go take a look.”
They piled into the VW and headed to the smoke as they heard the sirens in the distance. It only took a few minutes to get to the Carter house in time to see it completely engulfed in
flames and smoke. The fire engines arrived shortly after and the firemen began the deliberate process of pulling hoses, connecting them to the pumper and putting on the rest of their helmets and jackets. There was no rush; there was not much to save except for the surrounding brush.
Alice, Bob and Wheeler huddled together out of the commotion of the firefighters behind the trucks as the captain walked over to them. “Do you all know anything about the fire? Did you see anything?” They related the story of the smoke and calling the fire department, but nothing more.
They all fell silent, watching the water spray uselessly over the building. Wheeler had the long/short stare going but nobody noticed. He was searching his inner and outer memory banks for some reason or purpose to all of it but the only shred that came to him was the realization that someone at Walt Carter's level wanted to teach him a lesson or punish him. They might have torched the house to try to get rid of Walt. No matter, someone was getting desperate, willing to use dangerous tactics to accomplish some end.
