Ray Gorham - Daunting Days of Winter

What the complete story was, Kyle didn’t know, but he was glad Collin was out of the situation. The last few days, Collin had spent a lot of time with Gene, even calling him grandpa, and smiling and laughing. Today they were going fishing and pheasant hunting, building a relationship that Kyle recognized was good for both of them.

There was still no answer at the green door. Kyle had stepped forward to knock on it one more time when it was thrown open with a slam. A man stood beyond the door, a shotgun leveled at Kyle. “What do you want?” the man demanded.

Kyle pulled his hands back, raising them helplessly over his head. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Roman Bakowski. I was told he lived here.”

“I’m Roman Bakowski. What do you want?” The man had an accent like a Russian gangster’s from the movies, a low, guttural growl of a voice that was heavy on the letter w and rolled around in his mouth like he was chewing marbles.

“My name is Kyle Tait. I was told that you have a HAM radio, unless there is another Roman Bakowski around.”

“I the only Roman Bakowski in the area. Who told you I do the HAM radio?” He still held the shotgun leveled at Kyle, but his demeanor eased up a little, and the scowl on his face was softening.

“My friend, Frank, said there were people in the area with radios. The sheriff told me about you and where you lived, but it was hard to find. Frank does HAM radios. Said I should look someone up so I could talk to him.”

“I don’t know a Frank. I talk to lot of people on my radio. Why would he tell you come here?”

Kyle gave an edited version of how he’d come to the area and explained that Frank was the closest one to his family who could communicate out of the area.

“So why I should help you? What have you done for me?”

“I have silver,” Kyle said, holding out a silver quarter.

Roman looked at it and scoffed. “Why do I need silver? You have gold?”

Kyle felt his wedding ring on his finger, spinning it around a couple of times. “Just my wedding ring, but I…”

Roman cut him off. “You married?”

Kyle nodded.

“Keep ring. Your wife kill you if you give it to me. I take the silver.”

Kyle handed him the coin, an old 1962 quarter.

Roman held it out in front of him in the light, squinting. “You giving me twenty-five cents?”

“But it’s silver, an old one; it’s worth more.”

“I know it’s silver, but it still say twenty-five cent. This all you have?”

Kyle stuck his hand in his pocket, fished out another one, and handed it to Roman. “Here. Can you help me?”

Roman sighed. He’d lowered his gun and now looked at Kyle more closely, his bushy, silver -flecked eyebrows dancing on his forehead as he tried to focus. “I need my glasses. Pretty blind without them. Was sleeping when you got here. You lucky I’m not so cranky.”

“Sorry I woke you.”

Roman shrugged and led Kyle into the house, groped around on the kitchen table until he found his glasses, then led Kyle out the back door to an old barn behind the house. “You like rats?” he asked as he forced the barn door open.

“Not especially.”

“Then we are good, because I only have mice here.” He let out a hearty laugh and propped the door open. “Come. Sit down here,” he said, pointing to a bale of hay positioned in front of an old desk. “I go start generator. What is friend’s address, where he talks?”

Kyle handed Roman a piece of paper with a series of numbers that Frank had written down for him, and Roman studied it as he walked to another door that led out the back of the barn.

Roman was gone a few minutes, then Kyle heard the roar of a generator. A small fluorescent light flickered on above him, and Roman returned.

“I don’t think I know this Frank person. What you want to tell him?”

“I need to see if he’s had any contact with my family or town and make sure everything is okay. I’ve been gone for almost a month now.”

“That’s it? You just want to say ‘how’s it going?’”

“Well, I don’t have a script. I just want to see how things are for my family and my friends there.”

“Okay. If that what you want, we get to work.” Roman’s fingers flew expertly across the keypads and dials on the old radio. After thirty seconds of adjusting, he grabbed the mic and keyed it. “This Big Polack looking for Silver Fox, Frank Emory. Over.”

“How do you know his name is Silver Fox?”

Roman shrugged. “I call all Americans on the radio Silver Fox. It’s good American name. You have problem with that?”

“Not. Just thought maybe you actually knew Frank or something.”

Roman chuckled, wiped something from his eye, then continued to adjust the dials. “Shhh. This hard work.”

Kyle waited patiently as Roman worked for another fifteen minutes, adjusting dials and talking into the microphone, but there was no success.

Roman finally got up without saying a word, walked outside, and shut off the generator. He returned with a grim look. “How far away is this Frank guy?”

“Maybe three hundred miles, a little less probably.”

Roman slapped his forehead. “I need to adjust antenna. This set up for Poland, for longer distance. You come back in week. I adjust antenna and keep trying your friend, Frank. Write down what I should tell him.”

Kyle took a pen from his pocket and wrote a short note with a number of questions in large, clear letters. When he was done he handed it over.

Roman took the note and read it over, mumbling to himself as he did so. “Alright, got it. You school teacher?”

Kyle shook his head. “No, why?”

“You write very big.” He shrugged. “Come back in seven days, alright?”

Kyle nodded. “I’ll be back in seven days.”

Roman grabbed Kyle by the shoulder and spun him back around as he was about to leave. He smiled widely. “Good deal for fifty cents, no?”

Kyle returned the smile. “Good deal for fifty cents.”

Saturday, February 25 th

Deer Creek, MT

“Are you sure about this?” Ty asked, with daylight fading as he peered from the cover of a fir tree at a neighboring house.

Sean nodded. “I’ve been watching him all week, as much as I can, plus I’ve stopped by twice, but he won’t talk to me. There’s definitely something that’s not right.”

“Are the three of us going to be enough?”

Sean shrugged. “There’s just one of him, so I hope so. I’ve never seen him with a gun, and we’re armed, so it should be pretty simple.” He paused and waited. “I can see him through the window. He just went into the back. Let’s move while we still have light.” Sean motioned with his hand, then he, Ty and Craig emerged and hurried in the direction of their target.

Ty ran to the side of the house, and Sean and Craig approached the front. Craig concealed himself to the side of the door while Sean banged on the door with his fist. “Dale, I need to talk to you. Open up, please!” There was no response, so he pounded on the door again.

“You sure he’s home?” Craig whispered.

“I saw him through the window. I’m sure of it.” Sean reached out and tried the door, but it was locked. “I’m going to check around back. You wait here,” he muttered, and had just taken a couple of steps away from the door when there was an explosion of sound behind him, and a hole was blown through the top of the door.

“Shotgun!” Craig yelled, diving from the porch for cover. “You okay?” he asked as he rolled up against the front of the house. “I thought you said he didn’t have a gun.”

Sean had fallen to the ground and rolled to the side. He felt the back of his head. “I’m fine. He missed me. You?”