D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

As the bottle came under his nose, he breathed deeply. The pungent smell of the vodka made him suddenly and violently ill. He barely got his head over the wastebasket before he vomited. His stomach heaved until he thought he was going to wretch up some internal organs.

“Jesus Christ,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Four o’clock in the morning and trying to get drunk. That was the story of his life. Every day he woke up and made a commitment to himself that he would lay off. Give it up and turn his life back around. But every day, before he had even showered and dressed, he had inevitably given in to the liquid demon. He looked at the bottle, picked it up and pulled out the other bottle he kept in his desk drawer. He walked to the men’s room. Unscrewing the tops of the bottles, and before he could talk himself out of it, he poured them down the toilet.

Once he had emptied the second one, he put his hand on the flush lever and had to look away as he depressed it. The swirling water-booze mix disappearing down the drain was an apt metaphor for his life to this point. He started to cry.

Seth stood hidden in the bushes as Bert’s car rolled to a stop at the top of the hill that led down to the lodge. He watched Bert study the hustle and bustle of activity below. He must know that the jig is up. As Bert reached for the shift lever to put the car in reverse, he slipped out of the woods and pressed the cold steel of his rifle barrel against Bert’s temple.

“Evening, Bert,” Seth said. “I figured you’d be curious about what was going on.”

“What do you mean?”

Seth laughed. “You know what I mean. Why don’t you put your hands up where I can see them.”

Slowly he placed both of his hands on the wheel.

Seth reached in, grabbed a shotgun from his lap and removed his pistol. “Planning on doing some bird hunting?” Seth asked sarcastically.

Bert stared straight ahead, not responding.

“Now, you’re going to do exactly what I say, or I’m going to pull this trigger. Understand?”

He nodded as he glanced at Seth without turning his head.

“I want you to put the car in drive and move it down the road real slow. I’m walking, and if the end of this gun barrel leaves your head, I’m pulling the trigger, so don’t do anything rash.”

Seth pressed the barrel into his head. “Let’s go.”

They started creeping slowly down the road. In a couple minutes they were in the driveway of the lodge.

“Shut off the car and get out.”

Bert opened the door and stepped out. He gritted his teeth as he looked down at the much smaller Seth. But Seth had the rifle, the ultimate equalizer.

“So what’s going on?” Bert asked, as if he didn’t know.

Seth backed away, keeping the rifle pointed directly at his chest. “I’m tying up loose ends.”

“And I’m a loose end?” Bert said as he stepped away from the cruiser.

“One more step and you’ll be a dead end.”

He stopped. “What about all of the times I’ve covered for you? Hell, I’ve never been anything but loyal to you guys.”

“That’s true. You’ve always been loyal, there’s no denying that. But don’t make it sound like you did it because we’re buddies. You did it because you’re greedy – just like everyone else in the world. You saw your chance to make some easy money and you took it. I bet if you could sell us out, you’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Why would I do that,” Bert asked. “This doesn’t make sense. I’m not a traitor like David. I’m part of the team. I’m not a risk for you today or tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid you are very much a liability my friend.” Seth replied. “You are the only one doing this for money and not for the Cause. Once the money stops coming in, you’d happily tell all if someone offered up the right reward. We can’t leave any lose ends or have any risks whatsoever and so it’s time Bert. Time to say goodbye.”

“So what are you going to do with me?” Bert said as his gaze flitted around the busy compound.

Seth pointed at the barn and said, “There’s going to be a little fire here in the compound. You stumbled on to it and, unfortunately, the fire got the best of you. You’ll be remembered fondly by your peers, I’m sure. Maybe they’ll even build a monument here, memorializing their fallen hero.”

A loud crash came from across the parking lot. Wendel had the lift raised too high and had slammed something into the roof of the trailer.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Bert sprang forward – lunging at Seth, who had instinctively turned his head momentarily toward Wendel. Seth pulled the trigger. The heavy slug caught Bert squarely in the chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Seth looked at him coolly. “Sorry, Bert,” he said as he jacked the lever-action and squeezed the trigger a second time. “It’s just business.”

The second bullet knocked him over – his feet anchored to the ground as his body fell like a tree, landing with a lung-emptying thud. Timber! Seth smiled.

“Hey, Wendel,” Seth called. “Take it easy with that lift, will you?”

Wendel waved an acknowledgment as he continued his work.

Jerry and Curtis came out of the main lodge and walked slowly over to Seth, who stood over Bert’s body. “Did you really have to do that?” Jerry asked.

Seth glared at him – his narrow lips pressed tightly together, squeezing the color out of them. The jaw muscles visible under his sharply angled cheekbones flexed as he clenched his teeth. He stepped toward Jerry who backed up. He hadn’t wanted to do it. He had done it for the mission – for Sarah. Bert knew too much, plain and simple, and he had to make a decision – kill him, or live nervously because he had left a major liability walking around.

“No. I just felt like killing somebody today,” Seth said. “Of course I had to do it.” He placed his hand on Bert’s chest, and ripped open his shirt. “Besides, he’s not dead. He’s wearing a bullet-proof vest.”

Jerry and Curtis leaned over and took a closer look. Sure enough, his chest moved up and down as he breathed.

Seth smiled and said, “Let’s get him into the lab before he comes to. This’ll work out perfect.”

He was very pleased with this bit of luck. Now, even if Bert’s body managed to survive the upcoming blaze, it would be smoke and fire, not a bullet, that would be the cause of death. Maybe things were finally starting to go their way.

As the three men dragged his huge, limp body into the lab, Bert slowly regained consciousness

“You could use me, Seth,” Bert pleaded. “I can help you.”

Seth leaned down close to his ear and said, “I’m sure you could, but this is all happening because I trusted one too many people. I’m sorry that it turned out like this; I really am. I actually liked you.”

Seth walked over to Jerry and handed him the rifle. “Keep an eye on him. We can’t afford to have anything else happen.”

“How did Sarah take the news about Foster?” Jerry asked.

“Not good,” he shouted over his shoulder.

As Seth walked toward Curtis and Wendel, who had finished with the large ticket items, Curtis cried out. “Jesus Christ, Wendel. Be careful with that thing.”

Seth broke into a trot and got to the two men just in time to see Wendel picking up the radio detonator that would set off the incendiaries from the ground.

“It was an accident,” Wendel said. “It slipped out of my hands.”

Seth snatched the device from him and said, “Give me that before you incinerate all of us, you idiot.”