Working With Cedar: The Early Years, page 12
The old man turned to give Nash a hard look. “Who are you to tell my boys what to do?”
Before Nash could reply, Shorty said, “He’s a man holding a shotgun ready to blow the fucking head off the first one whose foot touches the steps. You heard what he said. You’ll wait down there until Sam gets back.”
Short’s aggressive response stunned Nash, but did spur him to lift his shotgun to rest on his arm, pointed in the general direction of the steps. Betty moved a few feet from him and did the same. The three men stopped and turned toward the old man for direction.
Shorty saw their indecision and said, “Don’t push it boys. A few minutes wait ain’t worth dying for.”
Unable to keep a pissed-off tone from his voice, the old man said, “You heard the midget. We’ll wait for Sam.”
Angered, Shorty called out, “I’ve got your fucking midget hanging, Bill Johnson. I reckon it’s big enough ta ream you.”
The old man, laughed and said, “You’d need a stool. Come on boys; let’s walk around while we wait.”
Shorty waited until they were out of earshot before speaking to Nash and Betty. Calling just loud enough to cross the distance between them, he said, “It’s rumored, but I know it to be a fact that Johnson and his boys make a living growing and selling pot. It ain’t none of my business and I tend to leave well enough alone, but it’s also rumored they’re connected with a drug gang working the Athens area. Heard tell there’s been a few murders tied to the gang.
“Rumors like I say, but one thing I know for sure; Sam and his brothers cut off Johnson’s credit long ago. I’ll wait for Sam to get back before I finish loading. Keep your fingers on your triggers and don’t take your eyes off them.”
The entire time, Alice had stood behind Nash. He turned to her and said, “Alice, you need to go inside the warehouse. Find a place to hide until you mother and father return.”
Alice didn’t argue. Shorty, softly calling to them, drew their eyes from her dash into the relatively safe space.
“Look at the four of em all cozied up. They’re planning something for sure.”
Nash looked at the men huddled together on the far side of the parking lot near the edge of the road and came to the same conclusion. “What do you think they’ll do?”
As a preamble to answering, Shorty racked the action on his rifle. “I think they’ll come back acting like they’re going to leave and then open fire on us sudden-like. Ya’ll got a shell in the chambers of those pump-cannons? Hope ya loaded double-ought.”
Betty worked the slide on her shotgun. Nash followed suit. The sound and movement of their actions caught the attention of the men. They huddled even closer, and to Nash, it seemed like they were arguing.
He heard a vehicle approaching, and prayed it was Sam and Glenda returning. It wasn’t. Another pickup truck with an attached trailer slowed and then pulled into the lot.
Though Nash’s eyes naturally followed the new arrival, his peripheral vision caught movement. The group of men began walking back toward the dock.
Shorty said, “This is it. They’ll think we’re distracted. Don’t pay any attention to them in the pickup. I know em. They’re good people. Watch Johnson and his boys. They think they’re going to trick us. If they go for their guns, I’ll take Johnson. You two target the other three.
As the middle-aged couple climbed from their pickup, Johnson and his boys walked to their own trucks. Old man Johnson shouted, “We’ll come back later. Tell Sam I’d appreciate it if he’d stack on the dock the same order I made last month.
Then raising his voice louder, “Ain’t that what we need … Now Boys!
Even as the old man was speaking, Nash saw the hands of his sons creeping ever closer to the grips of their pistols. When the old man shouted “now”, the hands reached. With a simultaneous blast from Nash and Betty’s ‘pump cannons’, two of the men were hit with buckshot. Too close for the shot to spread, the ones targeted died before they hit the pavement, one with a bloody mess where his heart should be and the other missing most of his head.
The overwhelming sound of their shotguns muffled Shorty’s shot, but old man Johnson dropping his pistol and clamping both hands to his chest told Nash that Shorty didn’t miss his target. The third son, yet unscathed, managed to draw his pistol to fire one shot an instant before a double blast of buckshot shredded his upper torso.
When the sound of the short war faded, Nash felt as though he’d stepped into an alternate universe. Four men lay in growing pools of blood. The newly arrived couple stood frozen beside their truck. Alice’s screams sounded from the interior of the warehouse … and on the concrete of the dock, a fifth man … Shorty … lay with his own blood pooling around his head.
The middle-age man, speaking from beside the truck, drew Nash from his fugue.
“The bastard shot Shorty. Who are you people? Where are the Wilkins?”
Nash brought his shotgun to bear on the couple. “When you drove in, Shorty said you are good people. I hope he’s correct. Sam … Sam Wilkins has gone to check on his brothers. He’ll return in a bit. Until then, I’ll ask you to keep your distance and not to make any move that will make us feel threatened.”
The woman beside the man asked, “Aren’t you going to check on Shorty?”
Betty said to Nash, “Lower your barrel,” and then she answered the woman. “As a nurse, I say Shorty’s either dead or too close to dead for it to make a difference, but you’re welcome to hop up and check.”
The woman shook her head. “No, we aren’t going near anyone, alive or dead. It seems Johnson and his sons finally ended up like we all thought they would. Are you friends of Sam?”
Alice chose that moment to begin screaming again. Without a word, Betty turned to dash into the warehouse, leaving Nash to deal with the newcomers.
His arm, wrist holding the shotgun steady, grew weary, and his injured hand, throbbed. Moving the shotgun and lowering the barrel, he said, “I’m going to take Shorty’s word that you’re good people. Please don’t prove me wrong.”
The man waved to the dead bodies on the pavement. “You killed all the bad ones. Why’d Sam leave to check on his brothers? Didn’t they open today?”
“No, and that’s why he went. He’s worried about them.”
The man nodded. “He should be worried. It’s not like them not to open, but nothing’s as it should be. I hope Saul and Andrew are okay. What’s your name? Mines Blake… Blake Anderson.” Tilting his head to the woman beside him, “That’s my wife Sandra.
Nash was having difficulty with his eyes wandering to the river of blood flowing from Short’s head to form a small blood-fall cascade over the edge of the dock. He focused his attention on the couple on the pavement below.
”I’m Nash. The woman who went to check on Sam’s daughter is Betty. I guess you’re here to pick up supplies.”
Blake nodded, “Yes, but if it won’t bother you, we’ll wait down here until Sam returns.”
Returning alone for the warehouse, Betty said, “Alice wants to stay inside until her parents return,” then speaking to the Andersons, “Do you have weapons?” If so, you may want them in hand while you wait.”
Blake said, “That would make me fell a lot safer. The Johnson family represents only a small batch of the crazy folk in this neck of the woods. There’s no telling who’ll show up.”
Blake turned to move, and paused to speak to Nash. “Does the woman speak for you? I’d hate to get shot when I fetch my pistol.”
“We’re together in everything,” Nash replied, and realized as he spoke, the truth of his statement.
Sandra moved to the rear of their truck. Letting down the tailgate, she made a small jump to seat herself on it “I may as well be comfortable.”
“You don’t have a weapon?” Betty asked. Sandra shook her head, “I don’t curry to violence and I can’t see myself harming another human.”
Pointing the barrel of her rifle toward Shorty, Betty said, “You may want to reconsider that.”
Sandra smiled and said, “My faith in the Lord will keep us safe.”
Nash wanted to say ... Then you need to thank the Lord your husband’s ready to do the job on his behalf…, but he held his tongue.
Blake came from the cab and hoisted himself onto the other end of the tailgate. Replying to Betty, he said, “I’m working on Sandra, but her faith runs deep.”
Blake noticed Nash eying the large pistol he held in his lap.
“Nice pistol, isn’t it; my grandpa’s 1911, then daddy’s, now mine. It won’t do the damage your scatterguns will, but a 45 slug will drop a man with a sledgehammer hit.”
“I’m not familiar with many types of weapons, but that is a big bore on the barrel.”
“I’ll do the job. That nine strapped at your hip isn’t much better than a twenty-two. You should consider at least a thirty-eight.”
Sandra didn’t care for the topic of their conversation. “I wish you’d stop talking about the best gun to kill people with. The Johnson’s lived self-destructive lives, but no one deserves to die like that.”
Betty pointed to Shorty. “He’s the one who didn’t deserve to die. We didn’t ask the bunch to attack us, but the Johnson’s got exactly what they deserved.”
Sandra started to reply, but Blake cut her off. “Let it go, Sandra. These aren’t Christian times, and the Johnson’s were the devils workers. If anything, you should thank God that the bullets flew true, otherwise I have no doubt we’d be laying dead instead of Bill and his boys. There’s no way they’d have left witnesses to their crime.”
Sandra capitulated. “No, these are surely not Christian times.” Glancing to Betty, she continued, “Is that Alice I heard screaming? Is she alright?”
“No, she’s far from alright. Her grandmother died yesterday, and—.”
“Gail’s dead,” Sandra cried out. “My dear lord, what happened? How?”
“She went into diabetic shock. That’s how we met the Wilkins. Sam and Glenda were away picking up cattle. Her grandmother became ill and Alice found us, but we were too late, Gail was dead. We stayed with Alice until they returned. In exchange for labor, and to pull guard duty, Glenda and Sam offered us a place with them.”
Sandra nodded approval, “Lucky for you. Sam and Glenda are a living example of how good Christians should conduct their lives.”
Nash interjected himself, “Speaking of them, I hear a vehicle coming. I hope it’s their truck.”
The vehicle appeared from around a curve and Nash breathed relief when he saw it was the Tahoe. Sam turned into the parking lot and backed his truck into position the hook to his trailer. Judging from how fast he exited the cab, Nash knew Sam saw the bodies of the Johnson’s littering the pavement near the loading dock. With Glenda close behind him, he ran to where they lay.
Glancing up at Nash, he said, “What the devil happened here?” He saw Shorty’s body on the dock and vaulted to go to him. Nash, saw Sam’s face, already grim, tighten further. “Oh crap…, Shorty. Jesus, what happened?”
Glenda scrambled onto the dock. Saying the obvious, “The Johnson’s happened,” she asked, “Where’s Alice?”
Betty pointed to the warehouse entrance. “When Shorty told us that the Johnson’s were going to be trouble, Nash sent her in there to hide. She’s scared.”
Glenda turned and sprinted through the warehouse opening, calling Alice’s name as she ran.
Betty asked Sam, “Your brothers, are they okay?”
“No. They’re all at Andrew’s house. Andrew is about dead. Saul said he’s in a coma. Saul’s wife has Ebola, and their children started showing symptoms. Saul threatened to shoot us if we set foot on his porch. He told us they were as good as dead and they weren’t taking us with them.
“Glenda and I spent a half-hour in the yard praying. We could hear them moaning and coughing. Glenda had to make me get in the truck and leave. I’ve never felt so helpless or hopeless.”
Sandra slid from the tailgate of their truck. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything Blake and I can do?”
Sam shook his head. “There’s nothing that can be done. My mother is dead and now I’m losing the rest of my family.” He used both hands to squeeze his face.
A long moment passed and then his hands dropped and he stood straighter. Speaking to Blake, he said, “If you’re here for feed, go ahead and load what you need. Don’t worry about paying. I won’t be here to guard the business and I’m sure it’ll be emptied by those in need.”
Nash said, “Shorty mentioned he has a son waiting at home. Do we need to—?”
Glenda said, “We’ll need to pick him up.”
Sandra countered, “We’ve known Seth since he was born. He comes over quite often to play with our son. It’d be better to get the news about his father from someone he knows. Blake and I will swing by and get him.”
Sam asked the Andersons the same question he presented to Shorty. “Blake, how are you set to weather this crap?”
“We aren’t prepared for this at all. Beyond what’s in the garden, we have chickens for eggs. Staples are low because we do our shopping on the first of the month and that was three weeks ago. Why are you asking? If you are thinking of us coming to your place, we’ll be there in a heartbeat. The only hold back is where would we sleep? Nash and Betty told us they’re staying at your house.”
Sam glanced at Shorty, winced and said, “Shorty has a Winnebago that will crank with a little work… probably needs the battery charged. You could check it out when you pick up Seth. Oh, and he has some livestock he wanted to bring with him.”
Blake walked to a section of the dock far from where they were and scrambled onto it. “It looks like Shorty’s already brought out most of what I need. Would ya’ll mind hanging here until I load?”
Sam nodded, “Make it fast. The day’s getting short and we all have plenty to do.” He turned to the sound of footsteps behind him. Glenda stopped near him.
“We could hear what was said. I told Alice to wait inside until we leave. She was so frightened, she made herself a cave of straw bales.”
Sandra said, “Poor little thing. I find it hard to believe society could fall so fast. It’s as though mankind was perched at the edge of an evil plain, and overnight, ran straight onto it.”
Impatient to load up, Blake said, “That’s a fact… Honey, I’ll need your help loading. Back the trailer to the dock while I move Shorty’s bags closer to the edge.”
Once again, Nash and Betty witnessed the innate strength of people who toiled the land. Sandra, albeit stockier and more muscled than Glenda, easily handled the fifty-pound bags of feed, lifting them from the dock and walking the length of their flatbed trailer to stack them.
Blake used a pallet jack to move q pallet of chicken layer-pellets and then jumped from the dock to the trailer to help with the stacking.
Thirty minutes later, the Anderson’s drove away. Glenda brought Alice to their Tahoe. Assuming the seats they previously held, they left the feed store, driving in the opposite direction the Andersons took.
Nash cast a final glance at Shorty’s body on the dock, and realized he would never have the chance to know him. Having only met the man, Nash didn’t understand why he felt such a heavy sense of loss. He reached for Betty’s hand. She gripped his in such a way that he wondered if she was sharing the same thoughts.
Betty leaned to him and said in a low tone, “Every time we’re on the road it seems something bad occurs. I hope this is the last trip we make for a long while.”
Her tone wasn’t low enough to prevent Glenda from overhearing. “Amen, to that.” Then to Sam she said, “Did you hear what Betty said?”
Sam said, “No. My mind’s on the mess my brothers are in. Christ, I feel like I’m abandoning them.”
“You heard Saul, there’s nothing you can do for them. What Betty said is no more trips for a while. The roads are too dangerous.”
Sam responded, “I can’t think of any pressing needs. I agree we should keep our butts at home. I hope the Andersons make it to our place. Betty and Nash are right. We need more hands holding weapons.”
It was quiet in the SUV for the next few minutes. The silence broken, when Sam said, “We’re going back,” and suddenly braked to turn into the parking lot of an abandoned, ransacked convenience store.
“What?” Everyone else said in unison.
Turning the steering wheel to do a one-eighty, he answered, “Ammonium Nitrate. Fertilizer’s good to have, but I’m thinking of it mixed with fuel oil. I’m thinking explosives. There are five-thousand pounds of it in the warehouse. With what we already have on the trailer it’ll be a load on this Chevy, but we’re taking all of it.”
Arriving back at the feed store, Sam paused in the road to eyeball two fresh pickup trucks in the lot, both parked at the dock as far from the Johnson’s truck, and their bodies as the docking space allowed.
On the dock, three men stood near Shorty’s body. They all turned to stare at the Tahoe.
Turning the steering wheel to drive in, Sam said, “I know those fellows. We won’t have any trouble.”
He backed the trailer to the dock, then saying, “Wait until I clear them off the dock,” left the cab. Standing beside the truck’s door, he called out, “I’ll open the doors and you all can take what you need. I’ll ask that you respect your distance from me and wait until I load what I came for.”
“Hey Sam, can you take a check?” One of the men called back.
“No Taylor, today is free day. Seriously, you can take what you need, just stay twenty-feet or further away from us.”
Sam leaned into the cab to speak. First whispering, “Like his check would clear,” then continuing in a normal voice, “Nash, you stand guard on the dock near the rear of our trailer. Betty, I’d appreciate it if you’d take the driver’s seat and get Alice away from here if any trouble happens.”
