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Authors: David Crawford

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BOOK: Collision Course
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She turned around without waiting for an answer and walked into the house. Gabe followed her quietly. Once they were in the kitchen, she gave him a knife and some of his own champion tomatoes to slice.

“Where's Robby?”

“He's down at the pond trying to catch some perch for supper.”

“That sounds good,” Gabe said without thinking.

“You're welcome to join us.”

“Ah, no. No, thank you. I have some stuff to do this evening,” Gabe said as his face went hot.

“Suit yourself,” the woman quipped with the smallest of smirks on her face. “What did you want to ask me?”

“I was mostly wondering what you were doing for water. Do you have a generator?”

“Don't I wish?” she said. “No, we have a thousand-gallon tank that the well pumped full. It's up on the hill behind the house, and it gravity-feeds the water into here. We're being very careful with it because when it's gone, I don't know what we'll do. I guess we'll have to get water out of the pond and filter it or something.”

“I see,” Gabe said. “How long do you think it'll last?”

“Well, Robby and I are trying to limit ourselves to ten gallons a day, but the chickens have to have water, too. I figure we have about six weeks' worth.”

“Hmmm.”

“Why? What are you doing?” she asked.

“I caught a bunch of rainwater yesterday. I have gutters on my shed, and they fill some water barrels. Of course, I don't have anywhere near a thousand gallons.”

“That's a good idea.”

“I was thinking about what else we might need if this thing doesn't get better real soon,” Gabe said.

“Like what?”

“Like food and fuel.”

“I was thinking about that, too,” Jane said, looking him right in the eye. Gabe had never noticed that hers were hazel. He quickly looked back down at the tomatoes he was slicing. A man could lose a fingertip watching those eyes.

“I figure we'll have enough eggs to feed an army,” she continued, “and we can butcher some of the chickens to eat, too. Your garden can grow lots of vegetables, and I could can some of them to get us through the winter. I'll need some lids for the jars, but I have everything else. I don't know how long the fish will hold up in the pond, but we can eat fish as long as they do. Do you know much about hunting? My ex-husband used to hunt deer some. At least, he used to go. He almost never got anything. I think it was more of an excuse to go off and be a worthless drunk without me nagging him to get a job.”

Gabe's head snapped around at the words “worthless drunk.” Jane noticed his reaction, and immediately her face turned crimson. Gabe tried to act as if nothing happened and went back to chopping the carrots she'd set in front of him.

“The deer hunting around here isn't the best,” he said. “There are a few, but not too many. If people start to hunt them hard, they could decimate the herd in short order. What we have a lot of are feral hogs, though. I play hell keeping them out of the garden at times. I shot a few when we first moved out here, and if you cook them right, they're as good as venison. We also have lots of rabbits and squirrels. A boy with a .22 rifle could keep the whole neighborhood in meat.”

“Well, I guess that's good news.”

“Does Robby have a .22?”

“No. He's been asking me for one, but I don't know anything about guns, and I was scared to let him have one without getting some proper training,” she said. “Could you teach him how to shoot and be safe? I'd feel a lot better about him having one then.”

“I guess I could.”

“Thanks. Although it really doesn't matter, I suppose,” Jane said. “Even if we could find a place to buy one, Robby's dad hasn't sent any child support in over four months, and with the farmers' market shut down, I spent almost all the money I had at the store the other day.”

“Well, maybe the supermarket will buy some of your eggs and my produce,” Gabe said. “Why don't we drive into town tomorrow and see? Even if they don't, I have a little cash at my place. We can buy some more staples and some gas if we can get any.”

Jane looked at him and smiled. “It's a date.”

Gabe dropped the knife as if it were blistering hot. “I have to go,” he muttered quickly.

“I'm sorry, Gabriel,” Jane said. “I didn't mean it like that.”

Only Hannah had called him Gabriel. It was like a second dagger in his heart.

“I know. I just have to go check on some things,” Gabe said as he hurried out the door. From his truck, he could see Jane in the doorway, rubbing her hands on a dish towel as if she was debating what to do. Gabe turned the key and pumped the accelerator. It seemed to him he'd cranked the engine forever, but it wouldn't catch. Worried that he might overheat the starter motor, he let go of the key. He saw her take a step toward the truck. His heart jumped into his throat, and he couldn't swallow it back down. He mashed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and bumped the starter again. Thankfully, the truck roared to life. Gabe shoved the shifter into reverse and dumped the clutch. He could see Jane looking at him, and he gave a quick wave as he backed out onto the road.

When he got home, he grabbed for the bottle. It was still where he left it when she'd made him go to the store with them. He realized she'd stopped him from drinking for a few days, and now she'd driven him right back to the bottle. He poured four fingers of the amber numbness. Picking up the glass, he rolled it between his thumb and fingers.

What had scared him? Was it the fact that another human being saw him as more than just a worthless drunk? Or was it more? Could it be that, for a day or two, he'd actually believed that he
wasn't
worthless? Well, there was little doubt that he'd disappoint whoever believed in him before long. He always had, and he always would.

CHAPTER 11

D
J didn't like being out in the daylight like this. There were too many things that could go wrong. Besides that, his quad was leaving visible tracks in the muddy road. That's how the vagabond had found him and probably how the rednecks had followed him, as well. He had to find a place where he could hide for the rest of the day, preferably a place that would also protect him from the rain.

He drove down the road slowly, looking for a place to hole up and keeping a sharp eye out for trouble. Finally he spotted an open pasture with an old lean-to in the corner that might have been used for cattle or horses in the past. It was fenced off from the road, but there was a gate. DJ pulled up to the gate and saw that it was locked with an old rusty chain and padlock. He smiled. He had a way to deal with this situation.

He got his bolt cutters and used them on the chain, opposite the lock. Opening the gate, he pulled his quad into the barn and positioned it so that it wouldn't be visible from the road. Opening the small storage under the front rack, he removed a black zip tie. He walked back to the gate and saw that his quad had left some tracks. The rain would probably wash them out before long, but he couldn't take a chance.

Spotting a small tree growing along the fence line not too far from the gate, DJ broke off a medium-sized branch and used the leaf side to wipe out all the tread marks between the road and the gate. Then he closed the gate and used the zip tie to reattach the chain into its previous position. Unless a person looked hard, even if he was unlocking the gate, he'd never know that the chain had been cut. This was a procedure he'd intended to use as he went down the pipeline easement. DJ smiled at his own ingenuity.

After the gate and lock were returned as closely as possible to the condition in which he'd found them, he picked up the branch and rubbed out all of the tracks leading to the small barn. Some of the ruts were deep, and he used his boots to smooth out the gumbolike mud and then wiped out his tracks with the branch. Once back to the weathered structure, he surveyed his handiwork. It wasn't perfect, but it was very good. The rain would finish up the job in less than an hour with the way it was coming down. DJ tossed the limb beside his quad.

Turning back inside the three-sided barn, DJ busied himself with making an area to rest. The old tin roof was leaking in a few spots, but considering how hard it was raining, it was doing an admirable job of keeping the interior mostly dry. He hung his hammock up between two of the support beams and tied his poncho over the hanging bed to deflect the few drops finding their way inside. He climbed in to get some sleep but found that his excitement wouldn't let him unwind.

He'd dealt with bums like the one who had tried to mug him before. They would often try to find a spot in or around the mall to sleep or eat for free. Some of them were downright disgusting. He didn't know how anyone could live the way they did. Many times, he'd run them off, only to find them later on the other side of the huge shopping complex. He had always wanted to send a real message to the most persistent ones, much as he'd done today. However, the owners of his place of employment were worried about getting sued, so security was only allowed to use force if someone was being attacked. The rules of engagement were clear, and DJ wasn't allowed to do more than escort them off the premises unless they posed a clear and imminent threat to patrons or employees of the large establishment. The bums all knew this, and they'd come back over and over again. It always pissed DJ off.

He found himself laughing out loud. It would be a long time before that guy tried to sneak up on a victim again. DJ, despondent over the loss of his gear just a few hours ago, was almost giddy now. It wasn't that he'd really enjoyed kicking the bum's ass, even if the vagrant had it coming. It was the understanding that he was no longer bound by the rules that had once dictated his actions. He was in charge now. It was his world.

Realizing that it would be a while before he would be able to sleep, he cooked a big lunch. He was about to start eating when he heard the gunshot.

* * *

Gabe was fuming. He was mopping the kitchen floor to clean up the bourbon. This was the second time he'd thrown something in the last few days. The glass hadn't broken, but it had left a nice crescent-shaped dent in the refrigerator. That's not why he was mad, though. He didn't really know what was bothering him, but the anger had kept him from drinking, so perhaps it was a good thing.

After the mess was cleaned up, Gabe busied himself with washing his dirty clothes. He filled one side of the sink with hot water and some detergent and started scrubbing the clothes he'd worn the last two days. He began with the whites and worked his way up to his dirtier outerwear. His anger seemed to recede in relation to the dirt that ebbed out of his clothes. When he was finished rinsing the garments, he took them outside to hang on the line. The sky looked like rain, and he hoped it would hold off long enough for his clothes to dry.

His garden needed attention, and he used the last few hours of daylight to weed and harvest. Just before dark, he took the clothes off the line and noted that everything except for his jeans was dry. He hung those over the vinyl-covered chairs in the kitchen and put the rest away. Dinner was simple yet filling, and he went to bed early.

The next morning, Gabe was up with the sun. He planned to go to town, but he didn't know if Jane would still want to go with him after he'd left so quickly yesterday. He wasn't sure why what she had said bothered him so much. He knew it was just an expression and that it didn't mean anything.

He dressed and cooked breakfast. Using the stove made him wonder how much propane there was in the tank. In the summer, he only used it for the stove and the water heater and that only took a minimal amount. However, in the winter, he also heated the trailer with it. The three-hundred-gallon tank would only last a couple of months in the cold. He would check to see how much he had after breakfast.

When he was about to sit down and start eating, he heard a knock on the door. He took caution as he answered it, and was slightly taken aback when he saw Jane standing in front of him.

“Good morning,” he said awkwardly.

“Good morning,” she replied. She stood there for what seemed a long time.

“You want to come in?” Gabe finally asked.

“Sure,” she said, stepping into the house. “That smells good.”

“Just some of your eggs I scrambled up. You want some?”

“No. I was talking about the coffee.”

“I'll get you a cup,” Gabe said, thankful for something to do.

He walked into the kitchen and poured Jane a cup. Turning around, he was surprised to find Jane right behind him.

“Here you go,” he said, extending the cup to her. “You sure you don't want some breakfast?”

“No. I already ate, but you go ahead and eat.”

Gabe sat down and started to eat. Jane stood for a moment and then pulled out a chair across the table from him and sat down. He felt like a heel for not offering her a seat, but he was thankful Jane didn't say anything. It had been so long since he'd entertained any company that he wondered what else he was forgetting. He kept his eyes on his plate, devouring the eggs as if he hadn't eaten in a week. When he was finished, he pushed the plate away and saw Jane smiling at him. The look on her face made him uncomfortable.

“The coffee's good,” Jane said.

“You want some more?”

“Yes, please.”

Gabe got up and topped off both of their cups.

“Thanks, Gabe. Are you still planning to go to town?”

“Yeah, I guess. Did you still want to go?” he said as he scratched at an invisible stain on the table.

“Absolutely,” she answered with just a little too much enthusiasm for Gabe's liking. “I want to see if I can trade my dad's old pocket watch for a .22 like you were talking about for Robby. Would you help me pick one out?”

Gabe remembered the woman at the store had mentioned that the gun store wasn't selling any firearms. Of course that might not be true, and he really didn't want to get into a long, drawn-out conversation about it with Jane, so he just nodded.

“Did you bring some eggs to sell to the grocer?” he asked.

“Yes. I have almost six gross.”

“You want to take your truck or mine?” Gabe asked.

“The eggs are already in mine. Plus, I want to try to get some gas.”

“Okay. Just let me grab my buckets, and we can go.”

“Need some help?” she asked.

“No. I can get it.”

Gabe had to make three trips to get all of the buckets of vegetables he wanted to take to town. Jane stood next to the truck and watched him go back and forth. Once the buckets were in the back of her truck, they started to town. Neither of them said anything for several miles. Gabe was glad for the quiet, not just because he was uncomfortable with making small talk. It allowed him to think about the things he needed.

All of a sudden, he slapped his head.

“What is it?” Jane said with a measure of alarm in her voice.

“Nothing really. I just meant to check and see how much propane I had left.”

“Are you getting low?”

Questions like this were why he didn't like to talk to people, Gabe thought, mentally rolling his eyes at the question. He decided to be civil, though. “That's what I wanted to check and see,” he said.

“I should probably check mine, too,” Jane said. “There are so many things we might need if things don't return to normal. I just don't know where to begin with the limited budget I have.”

She paused, and Gabe knew she was waiting for him to say something, but he had no idea how to respond. He could see the disappointment on her face, and they remained quiet the rest of the way to town.

They first stopped at the grocery store. The line was longer than it had been last week. The manager agreed to buy the eggs at one dollar a dozen, and he bought all of Gabe's produce for forty dollars. They knew they could have made a lot more by selling their fare themselves, but they had more pressing business to attend to.

They got into the long grocery line to spend the money they'd just received. Gabe didn't know if they were letting more people into the store at one time or if the whole process was working more smoothly, but it didn't seem to take as long for them to get to the front as it had before. Once they were inside, it was obvious that it wouldn't take long to select their purchases from the limited items available. The store had gotten a shipment, but it must not have been very diverse. There was a plentiful supply of a few items, but most of the shelves were bare. He was able to get some salt this time, and he found some cans of generic Spam. There was still no cheese, and even the expensive candles were gone now. They both moved smoothly through the checkout line, and fortunately, there were no incidents in the parking lot this time.

The next stop was the gun store. It wasn't just a gun store but a pawnshop, as well. It had been many years since Gabe had been in the shop, but the fat slob of an owner looked exactly as Gabe had remembered. He was leaning over the counter looking at a large diamond ring through a jeweler's loupe. Two employees were also behind the counter on opposite sides of the store, and they watched every move Gabe and Jane made. They each had a handgun on their side, and Gabe noticed several shotguns and rifles propped up behind the counter at regular intervals.

“Help you?” the fat man said as he stood up straight and slid the ring into his pocket.

Gabe looked at Jane and saw that she wanted him to do the talking. “Yes,” he said. “First, I need some ammunition.”

“I don't have much left. What kind of gun do you need it for?”

“A Marlin lever-action,” Gabe answered.

“Sorry. I've been out of .30-30 since week before last.”

“No, it's .35 caliber.”

“I might be able to help you there,” the man said as he waddled to a shelf. He returned a minute later with three very dusty boxes of .35 Remington cartridges and set them on the shelf. “Anything else?”

“You got any .357?”

“Nope. But I've got some .38 Special +P left. You want it?”

“Yeah, give me a couple of boxes. How about twelve-gauge buckshot?”

“Sorry. We're all out of twelve-gauge except for some steel-shot duck loads.”

“How about .22s?” Gabe asked.

“Pretty much out of it, too, except for some high-dollar match ammo.”

“Are you going to get any more?”

“I hope so,” the man said, “but God only knows when. If you need some, you better get what I have.”

“That's all right. I probably have enough to last awhile. How much is this?”

“Let's see, it's forty bucks a box for the .38s, and I'll let you have the rifle ammo for twenty-five dollars a box. That comes to a hundred and fifty-five even.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows at the quote. “That's a little high, isn't it?”

“Hey, you don't have to buy it. If you think you can find a better deal somewhere else, then go for it.”

“What if we bought a rifle, too?” Jane asked. “Would you discount the bullets then?”

“Lady, I can't sell any guns. The FBI isn't answering the phone, so I can't do the background check.”

“I didn't want to buy one. I was hoping to trade for one for my son.”

“It don't make no difference, lady.” The man sounded exasperated. “What did you want to trade?” he asked a second later with just a hint of curiosity.

“This.” Jane reached into her purse and handed the man her father's watch.

The man opened the watch, and Gabe saw his eyes widen with glee for a split second. He quickly regained his signature look of eternal boredom as he examined the relic for another minute.

“I tell you what I can do. I have a .22 that's my personal weapon. I could trade you that and three hundred rounds of .22 for it. I really shouldn't. This thing isn't worth much, but I just happen to like old watches, and I'm in a generous mood today. Let me get the rifle for you to look at.”

BOOK: Collision Course
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