The Final Rule (21 page)

“Oh God, that’s…” The muscles in Ellis’s arms quivered. He moved Jon’s leg higher. The new angle let him sink deeper. A drop of sweat dripped from his nose and landed close to Jon’s navel. “I don’t think I can move,” Ellis said.

“You better.”

“I’ll come.”

“No you won’t.” At least Jon hoped he wouldn’t. “Please, Ellis, you’ve got to move.”

Ellis dug his fingertips into Jon’s calf. His other hand, on Jon’s chest, clenched.

What began as long languid movements turned violent enough to make Jon grunt with every plunge. The sound of their bodies slapping together drowned out their ragged breathing. Jon tilted his hips and the change in angle let Ellis’s cock graze Jon’s prostate with every stroke.

Ellis pushed Jon’s leg so far back his knee almost touched his shoulder. The tendons in Jon’s leg complained, but it was quickly lost to the euphoria.

Being fucked had never felt like this before. Jon didn’t know if it was because it had been so long since he’d done it or if it was just Ellis. His heart told him it was Ellis. This one man who held his soul and commanded him with the softest words. This man Jon would die for.

He was so intoxicated he almost missed what Ellis said.

“Almost there.” Ellis lifted his head. The fierceness in his gaze burned. “You’d better come too.” Ellis pulled back to the tip of his cock, then shoved his hips forward so hard Jon was almost pushed off the stack of pillows.

“I’m right there with you, baby. Right…” Jon stroked his cock, pushing himself toward completion.

“You’d better be.” Every breath Ellis exhaled hissed through clenched teeth.

The explosion of bliss crashed into Jon. His cock pulsed and ropes of cum hit his chest. A few more hard thrusts and Ellis cried out Jon’s name.

As the waves of release receded, Jon cradled Ellis, savoring the weight of his body and the smell of sex clinging to his skin.

Hopefully the future held many more moments like this. But knowing what they were about to face, there was a very good chance it would be one of the last.

Jon looked like a new man.

The missing worry lines and the dark look in his eyes had nothing to do with a shower and beard trim. Knowing the real reason left Ellis filled with joy and guilt.

He loved this man more than anything. Yet he’d been so quick to dismiss Jon’s intentions because of his bruised pride. It hurt Ellis, but Jon was right. He wasn’t strong enough to face this thing. At least not on his own.

But neither was Jon.

The sobering thought had turned Ellis’s anger it into a quagmire of fear. If he didn’t do something, Jon would be left alone in this coming battle. And he might very well die alone.

At least Ellis hadn’t waited to try and make things right. Now he needed a way to earn Jon’s forgiveness.

Jon pulled on his t-shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking.”

“You think too hard.” Jon picked up his shoe. “Maybe you should take a break from it.”

If only he could. Ellis put on his shirt. “So what’s the agenda?”

“We meet with George. Some of his army buddies are supposed to be there so we can do some test runs.”

“You really think they’re going to help?”

Jon shrugged. “Don’t know. If they do, it will make this a hell of a lot easier.”

“Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“You’re right.” Jon’s mouth thinned out. “It won’t be easy.”

“We should probably head on over there.”

“It’s only three. I thought we could walk across the street and hit the diner.”

“You’d better save your appetite for lunch.”

“Why?”

“Eleanor is cooking a banquet.”

“What? Why?”

“To celebrate you and me.”

“Huh?” A crease appeared above Jon’s eyebrows.

“She’s celebrating us getting back together.”

“How would she know about that?”

“I stopped by there to find out where you were.” Ellis put on his shoes. “I told her I was going to go talk to you. Apparently she was really enthusiastic about you not slamming the door in my face.”

“I’d never do that.”

“I know.” It seemed like nothing he could do made Jon mad at him enough to push him away. Ellis was grateful and frightened. Because if they were going to face
The Big and Terrible
Jon needed to concentrate on himself, not watching out for him.

Jon kissed Ellis on the forehead. Had he read his mind? It wouldn’t surprise him if Jon did.

“You should probably call Mrs. Marsh and let her know we’re going to be late.” Jon said. “Just in case she has everything cooked already.”

“Why would we be late?”

“A five mile walk.”

“Who says we’re walking?”

Jon made a face.

“C’mon.” Ellis laughed. “I’ve got something to show you.”

On the other side of the parking lot a large dump truck took up three parking spaces.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“It’s your new ride.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and George mentioned something about needing a bigger truck for the fertilizer tanks.”

“So you bought a dump truck?”

“I couldn’t think of anything practical that was bigger.”

Jon walked to the rear and back. “And how on earth did you afford this thing?”

“Insurance check came and I bought it used.”

“Still, it had to cost a pretty penny.”

“I talked the owner down on the price.” Ellis knocked on the bed. “I mean look at it, beat to hell and dented up.”

“Even then, these aren’t cheap.” Jon ran a look over the monstrosity.

“I talked him down really low.” Ellis smiled when one of Jon’s eyebrows went up. “Apparently Don Farrell at the rock quarry thinks I have a nice ass.”

Jon met Ellis toe to toe. “I think I need you to repeat that.”

“You heard me.”

“Nice ass.”

“Yup.”

“And what did you say back?”

“Nothing. At least not until he signed over the title. Then I told him I was on my way to see my boyfriend.” Ellis punched Jon on the shoulder. “Get in before you get any greener.” Ellis climbed in the driver’s side. Jon joined him, riding shot gun.

“I’m not jealous,” Jon said.

“I don’t know, you were seriously starting to look like the Hulk.”

“No. I just think Mr. Farrell and I need to have a talk.”

Ellis cranked up the truck. The entire cab shuddered with the rumble of the engine. “Trust me. You have nothing to worry about. He’s a hundred years old and probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet.” There was a loud clank and screech when he put it into gear. Jon winced. Ellis said, “The clutch is a little temperamental.”

“You don’t say.”

The RPMs revved hard then it caught gear and lunged forward.

Jon slapped a hand against the dash. “Jesus. Are you sure this thing is safe?”

“It’s a dump truck.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Be quiet, I need to concentrate.” Ellis pretended he didn’t see the dirty look Jon shot him as they pulled out into the street.

The extra vehicles turned the Marsh’s front yard into a used car lot. Ellis wasn’t sure where it would be safe to park the truck, so he pulled into the field next to the driveway.

Ellis and Jon walked across the yard.

“I thought he said a few army buddies, not the entire platoon,” Ellis said.

“Platoon has more people.”

“What? Ten isn’t enough?”

“Quit exaggerating.”

So he was a couple of numbers off. It was still a lot of people.

They headed toward the barn where George had his tractor parked. The sprayer boom on the front gave the machine the appearance of a praying mantis, only instead of the extensions facing forward they were angled to the side.

“I guess he got the junker running,” Jon said.

“Are you kidding? It’s a tractor. They don’t quit running, the bodies just rust away.”

George looked up from the survey papers he had spread on a makeshift table comprised of two sawhorses and a sheet of plywood. “Just the man I was talking about.” His gaze slid to Ellis and his smile brightened. “Good to see you, Ellis. Real good.” He waved a hand to the loose circle of men standing around the table. “Gentlemen, this is Jon and Ellis.”

There was a jumble of “pleased to meet yous,” then the man in the cowboy hat stepped forward and held out his hand. “My name is Buck Kennedy.” Jon shook first and then Ellis.

A tall skinny man with more wrinkles than all of them combined was next. “Dave Caldwell.”

“Terrance North. Pleasure to be working with you boys.” The black man looked years younger than he should have. If it wasn’t for the shock of white hair on his head, Ellis would have guessed forty at the most.

George waved to the giant of a man wearing overalls standing next to a redhead. “This is Chunk and his partner Leon Wise.”

Leon said his hellos, then Chunk’s hand swallowed Jon’s whole. Ellis was pretty sure he’d never seen a man that big. In his prime, he must have been frightening.

When he took Ellis’s hand he was surprised to find his grip firm but not painful. “Just Chunk?” There was a shuffle of laughter.

Chunk tossed a look over his shoulder. “Yes, sir. No one calls me by my given name.” The words ‘and lives’ practically hung in the air.

“Ignore him.” Leon shook his head. “Big wussy won’t even crush a spider.”

“I’m not afraid of them. It’s just that killing em’ is bad luck.”

“So that explains why I got stuck with someone who can’t cook to save his life.”

“I can cook.”

“Okay, cook something that won’t rot a hole in your gut when you eat it.”

Leon slapped Chunk on the shoulder.

To Jon Ellis whispered, “They’re a couple?”

“What, you think there aren’t any other gay men in the world?”

“No, but…” As if it wasn’t tough now, Ellis could only imagine what it must have been like fifty years ago.

“Don’t worry.” Jon dropped an arm around Ellis’s shoulders. “You’ll still have a nice ass when we’re that old.”

Ellis elbowed Jon in the ribs.

George nodded in the direction of the dump truck. “Are you getting into the hauling business?”

“No, sir,” Ellis said. “I remembered you mentioning to Jon that you needed something bigger than a standard pickup truck. I figured you couldn’t get much bigger than that thing.”

Chunk nodded at the truck. “I bet we could get four containers on the back.”

“We only have four,” George said.

“Not if Leon and I throw in our two.”

“I’ve got one,” Terrance said. “It’s old and it leaks, but I figured that won’t be a problem considering what we’re going to do with them.”

Dave scratched his chin. “What about barrels?” Everyone turned. “I don’t have a tank, but I’ve got plastic drums. When I had the gamecocks, I’d cut holes in the side and they’d use them as houses. I’ve got at least two dozen spares put up in the barn.”

“They won’t hold much,” George said.

“No. But that might be a good thing.”

“How so?”

“Instead of using them to dump a load of fuel, why don’t we turn them into Molotov cocktails?”

“You can’t be serious.” Leon held up a hand. “No, strike that. I know you are. Just tell me how you plan on getting them lit and not blowing yourself up or catching fire?”

Dave stared at the dump truck like it held all the answers. “Blasting caps.”

“Why not just dynamite?” George said. “I know your daddy had to keep a box or two from his time in the mines.”

“It’s old and not reliable. Besides, a blasting cap will do the job. Just put a long fuse on it, light it, toss it off. At least when we set fire to the rest of the fuel, they’d blow. The problem would be getting it out there in the field.”

“I’ve got a four wheel drive pickup I used to take off road for hunting,” Buck said. “It’s old and ugly, but it’s a work horse. We could hook a trailer to the back and someone could push the barrels off as needed.”

“It’s suicide,” Jon said.

“I don’t know how much George has told you about this thing.” Ellis met the gaze of each man. “But it’s not going to lay there and let us blow it up. It’s fast and it can manipulate the ground. All it would take is opening up a hole and swallowing up any vehicle it wanted.”

“Then we need a distraction,” Terrance said.

“I don’t think a distraction is going to work.” Jon shook his head. “Ellis is right. I’m not even sure we’ll be able to get close enough to this thing to even burn it.”

Buck took a toothpick out of his flannel shirt. “You ain’t much of a nature boy, are you, Mr. Jon Foster?”

Jon rocked back on his heels. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Ever seen animals hunt? I mean big animals, wolves, coyotes, even a pack of domestic dogs?”

“Outside of nature shows, no.”

“Close enough.” Buck jabbed at the air with his toothpick. “Now, think back to any group hunt on a herd of animals you’ve ever seen on your nature shows. What’s the common denominator between all of them? No matter what the prey is, which one do they go for?”

“The weakest.”

“That’s right. And when the pack goes for the weakest what happens to the rest of the herd?”

“They usually make some distance, but quit running.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“The predator has to focus on what it can kill the easiest.”

“That’s right. We give this thing some wounded prey, it should go after it with everything it’s got.”

“That won’t work,” Ellis said.

“I think he’s onto something,” Jon said.

“I agree with distracting it, but expecting it to go after the weakest won’t work. We’re not dealing with a hungry animal concerned with chasing a meal. This thing is smart. You’re going to have to give it something it wants so bad that nothing else matters to it. A prize it can’t refuse.”
The Big and Terrible
had already made it clear what—or more precisely who—it wanted most. Fear filled Jon’s eyes.

Buck said, “And what would that be?”

“Me.”

“You can’t be serious,” George said. “Boy, that thing will kill you.”

“It’s a chance I have to take. You’re going to need time to get all this stuff out into the field. Even with the best coordinated delivery you might get it done in twenty minutes. Considering what we’re about to face, twenty minutes is a lifetime.”