Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

“I’m just having problems with the randomness of the crack head attack last night. Are you sure you’re not having any problems with anyone? Have you fired any disgruntled mechanics recently?”

“I told you. I’ve never seen them before. It was bad luck.”

Will stepped quickly forward and grabbed Robert’s arm before he could hide the needle mark. A purple bruise had bloomed out from the small needle prick.

“Then would you mind explaining how you got that?”

Robert pulled his arm away and rubbed at it. “Jesus Christ, they gave me a shot at the hospital, Will. My shoulder was already killing me from the car accident before those crack heads started stepping on it.”

Will turned his face away. Robert could hear him taking deep breaths.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I guess I just want to make sure.”

“Then try believing me. I’m getting tired of this interrogation of yours.”

Will sat back down in his chair and had some beer. Robert noticed his friend was taking his time for a change and not slamming it back like a college freshman. It meant Will had something weighing on his mind…

“This whole thing has got me really worried about you, Robert. But mostly I’m just jealous of the life you’ve made with Peggy and don’t want to see it get all turned to shit.”

Robert shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. I appreciate your concern. You should know that.”

Will nodded and got up and stretched. “Then I probably should get going then.”

“There’s more beer in the fridge.”

“No thanks. I’ve got some errands to run. And you look like you could use some decent rest. Keep up the ice and stay in touch Bobby.”

“I promise.” Robert said.

“You better, asshole.”

Will walked out of the shop to his car without looking back. Robert listened to his El Camino growl as it sped off the blacktop and down the street.

He sank back into his chair and wept. He had never been this scared in his life. At least in Mexico he’d been able to look the enemy in the eye and deal with the problem. Now he’d been reduced to lying to his best friend.

The call came from Walker just after he gave Nugget an early dinner. He had less than six hours before he was expected to meet his next opponent.

CHAPTER 18

When the man called Stick came to bring them their breakfast she knew something was missing.

“What happened to the other trailer?” Peggy said. She moved past Stick and took a step outside the door before anyone could stop her. A few yards away she saw the deep tracks in the dirt. The tracks hadn’t been there the night before.

“Trailer?” Stick asked. He looked away while his hands fidgeted at the edges of the box he was carrying.

The guard standing nearby pointed his rifle at her. “Get your ass inside or I’m going to start tying you up in there.”

Peggy backed up. She hadn’t realized Stick was behind her, and when she bumped into him several water bottles toppled from his box to the trailer floor.

“Oh no!” Stick cried. His face turned bright red. He set the box down and began to gather up the bottles. Peggy saw a book of matches drop from his shirt pocket and before Stick or the guard even noticed she’d slid her foot over it.

“It was my fault,” Stick said. He reached into the box and picked up some food wrapped in foil and handed it to Peggy. “I’ve got to be more careful.”

“It was all my fault, Stick. Not yours.”

“You’re too kind lady.”

When Stick bent down and picked up the box she noticed the bloody slits in the back of his shirt. They’ve been whipping the poor man, she thought. It’s no wonder he’s acting so nervous.

“I want to thank you for all that you’ve done,” Peggy said.

“It’s nothing...”

“I mean it. You’re a good man Stick... I know you are.” Peggy reached out and put her hand over his. The flesh was dry and brittle and she could feel the individual bones beneath. Stick stared down at her hand and didn’t move, and when the guard barked an order to leave Stick looked Peggy directly into the eyes for the first time and she saw how terrified he was.

“Don’t give up,” Peggy whispered. But she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her…

The guard finally stuck his head inside and looked around. “What the fuck did I say Stick? Get a move on before I decide to see how easy it is to break your bones.”

Stick lowered his head and followed. The guard shut the door and Peggy listened to them walk to the next trailer. She hid the matches beneath the small shower with the pieces of wire she’d removed earlier, the balls of string they’d pulled from the lining of the couch and the screwdriver lodged beneath the greasy oven.

****

She didn’t have a plan. For the past two days they concentrated on learning as much as they could about what was going on around them while harvesting from the trailer whatever things they thought might be useful without causing notice. It had become a game between Peggy and Connor, to see who could find the item with the most potential. So far their captors hadn’t been interested in checking the inside of the trailer too closely. Peggy hoped it stayed that way.

Back when she was in the army she had trained to be an explosives expert. She learned all about how bombs were made, including those created with ordinary things you could find around the house. Most importantly, she was taught how to dismantle them before they killed anyone. It was at the base in Georgia where she first met Will, who’d also grown up in Portland. The two instantly became close friends and ended up working on many projects together. Neither one of them cared for Georgia much, so their conversations about home were a welcome escape from the oppressive humidity and their inability to feel like they belonged. Will’s wife at the time was serving in Desert Storm, and when she returned to the States she introduced Peggy to her cousin Andrew—a tall, shy man, who’d marry Peggy shortly afterwards and started a family with her.

After a few hard years of living from paycheck to paycheck with a baby to care for, Andrew finally completed his training and became an officer with the Portland Police department. Things started looking up. For the first time ever they had enough money to pay their bills and some extra to set aside. Connor started school, allowing Peggy to work part time for a security company as well as take some night classes. Eight months later, everything came to a screaming halt. On a sunny, cloudless afternoon, her husband, who’d only been on patrol for the first hour of his shift, was standing on a freeway shoulder trying to help an injured dog when a drunk driver swerved and hit him. Completely devastated and far from any family, Peggy knew she wouldn’t have been able to survive the period that followed without Will’s love and support. And now, as she ran ideas through her head about how to escape, she often imagined Will nodding or shaking his head to each suggestion.

So far, Will hadn’t liked anything she’d come up with…

As soon as it had become dark the night before, Peggy figured out how she could deal with the paint-blackened trailer windows. The flat strip of metal she’d removed from the edge of the shower stall was thin enough to wedge between the sliding panes of glass and scrape away some of the paint on the outside. Just tiny strips really, but they could cover them up from the inside with some of the electrical tape they’d unwound from some wires behind the fridge. There was also the vent above the shower stall. If Peggy held Connor up, he could easily see through the crack where it lifted from the roof. It didn’t exactly help with seeing things at close range, but it did allow them to survey the horizon from every direction.