Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

He couldn’t even hear his own screams.

He splashed backwards into a heaving sea and floated along an obsidian surface until a swift current gripped him by the legs and pulled him under. He knew he’d never be coming back.

Underwood’s final thoughts were of his promise to take Caroline to see the Pacific again in late summer. With luck, perhaps they’d meet there again in some form or another, yet he knew in his heart it was all just gambler’s foolishness, for the cards you were dealt in life held no meaning after you took your last breath.

Absolutely no meaning at all…

CHAPTER 11

Peggy had no idea where they were until they were ordered out of the van. When she smelled the dry air spiced with juniper, she was certain they’d come as far as central Oregon or Southern Washington.

Not long after she’d spoken to Robert on the phone, Walker had led her and Connor to an Air Stream trailer behind the farmhouse. Connor had kept his face hidden against her chest as they’d walked.

She saw three trailers in all, spread out in a circle. Each was equipped with its own power source, water and sewer hookup. Black spray paint and barbed wire mesh sealed off every window from the outside. The doors themselves were fitted with heavy- duty latches and key padlocks. In the middle of the prisoner trailer park was a large tent where she could hear voices talking low.

She’d spent time in the high desert before, but a low-lying band of white cloud on the far horizon kept her from spotting any recognizable landmarks. On a clear day she would have been able to orient herself with the mountain range to the west. When she stopped to watch a pickup moving down a distant highway, Walker frowned and looked impatiently skyward.

“Mrs. Crain…”

Laughter made Peggy turn her head to look behind her. Two men armed with rifles stood watching, their eyes staring menacingly as they lit cigarettes and puffed from smirking lips. Peggy had recognized their raspy cackles. They’d been the one’s who’d carried her and Connor out to the van after binding their wrists and mouths with duct tape. Later, while the van sped unnoticed down the highway the night before, they’d taken turns feeling her bottom through her jeans.

She turned back to Walker, her eyes widened with anger. “So whose shoe did you scrape those two off of?”

Walker met her gaze with a crooked grin. “You’re not going to want to make any trouble for them.”

****

Connor had spent the entire day huddled in a corner of the bed. His condition hadn’t changed much since they’d arrived. Peggy tried to comfort him the best she could, and a few times he actually opened his eyes but they looked as if he were staring at something far away. When night arrived, she searched the entire trailer from top to bottom for anything useful, finding nothing but some forgotten rusted pliers wedged beneath a cabinet.

A man she hadn’t seen before brought them their dinner. He was brittle-thin and appeared nervous as he stood next to one of the armed guards who called him Stick. He handed her a cardboard box packed with sandwiches and bottled water.

“Why are you doing this?” Peggy asked. Stick’s jaw quivered as if he wanted to say something, but the guard quickly motioned him to move away. The guard held up his hand so she could see the open padlock swinging on his finger.

“You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?”

“What the hell is this all about?” Peggy screamed. Her voice had carried out into the desert night, causing the guard to take a step closer.

“Keep it down or I’ll have to gag that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I’m not shutting up until I get some answers.”

“Enjoy your dinner, lady,” the guard said. He slammed the door shut. She heard the snap of the padlock and crunch of rock as he walked away. Other than the hum of trailer generators, the place was quiet except for the occasional howl of a lone coyote or far off wail of a passing train.

Peggy sat down on the bed next to Connor and started to cry. His hand crept out from the blanket and touched her face.

“Mommy?”

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He’d finally made the long journey back to her.

“I’m here, baby.”

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s trying to find us.”

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

Peggy closed her eyes and wondered where Robert could be, what he was doing.

You’re going to find us baby. I know you will…

CHAPTER 12

Sitting in a dark booth at the rear of the bar, Robert chewed down the last of his turkey sandwich. He hadn’t felt at all hungry, and every bite seemed to take forever to swallow. The shot of tequila, however, had warmed him up nicely. It also smoothed away some of the edginess he’d been feeling since the dope in his body had worn off.

He watched as the regulars came and went, happily engaged in loud chatter and laughing over their private jokes. Robert had stopped hanging out in places like this years ago. But it wasn’t as big of a town as people wanted to believe. He still worried that someone might recognize him.

After a while he noticed that when people glanced over at him their faces tended to sober before turning away. Even the tough-as-nails bartender seemed apprehensive about him at first. He couldn’t blame her, for the bruise on the side of his face really did look awful.

His fingers played with the empty shot glass. He stared outside at the shafts of rain angling past the streetlights. The taste of Cuervo was still present in the back of his throat, and for a moment he contemplated ordering another shot. He began thinking about his father, and the whole nasty business in Mexico.

Two years after Robert’s father had his stroke, the body shop dipped close to bankruptcy. His father had taken measures to hide their financial problems as long as he could. He’d started drinking again, despite his doctor’s warnings. After months of trying to work out a deal with unsympathetic creditors, Frank saw no other choice than to call his brother Barney.

An ex-con who’d recently done three years for burglary, Barney still could not see himself ever walking the straight and narrow. Each time he’d been released from prison, his only thoughts were on how he was going to make up for lost time. As always, Robert’s father would give Barney a job around the shop, hoping this time his brother might not stray. But once Barney had saved enough money, he’d disappear for another year or two. Then one day Frank would receive a letter with a prison’s return address, and things would start all over again.

Robert’s mother could never understand why his father always let Barney back into their lives. She didn’t like seeing her son being exposed to a man who’d spent a greater part of his life behind bars. In retrospect, Robert believed his mother just cared too much for Barney, and it broke her heart to see him throwing his life away. Barney had always treated his sister-in-law with the utmost respect.

Robert and Barney grew close when Robert’s father was in the hospital. In many ways Robert looked more like Barney’s son. Both stood well over six feet tall and carried a lot of muscle. Whenever Barney came over to have dinner or just to visit, he’d always set aside time to teach his nephew how to fight while his mother was busy in the kitchen. Barney rarely went looking for trouble, but it frequently came to him. Over the years, his skills had become legendary on both sides of the prison wall.

Not long after Robert’s father had made the call, he and Barney announced they were going on a fishing trip to Mexico. Robert, then in his early twenties, had asked if he could come along. His father had told him no, that he’d wanted to spend it alone with his brother. Maybe he could finally talk some sense into him this time, get him committed to the straight path before he wound up dying behind bars.