Bug Out! Part 12: RV Alliance (6 page)

“Okay, Scotty.” He scampered outside. They could hear him rummaging around in the storage compartment.

“C’mon, let’s go try out the bed,” Scott said. “I’m bushed.”

Cindy climbed out and took him into her arms, hugging him and kissing him.

“I’m ready for bed, but you have to give me a little attention before we fall asleep.”

Scott smiled at her, pulling her close, his hands running over her back and down to her bottom. They climbed into the bed and shut the curtain.

***

Malcolm was tired. They’d been driving all day. Now it was approaching dusk. They had just transitioned onto I-70. It wouldn’t be long before they’d stop for the night. Malcolm took his phone out of his pocket and hit Ted’s contact.

“Ted?”

“Hey, Malcolm. How you holding up?”

“I’m pretty wiped out,” he replied. “Where we gonna stop?”

“How about Brookville? That’s only about ten miles away,” Ted said.

“Sounds good. Why don’t I call Gabe and see if he can line something up?”

“Go for it,” Ted said. “Let me know.”

“Will do,” Malcolm said. He ended the call and called Gabe.

“We want to stop in Brookville. Could you find a place to spend the night?”

“Will do,” Gabe said. He searched on his phone. “There’s a KOA right there. It’s got 50 amp and pull-through sites. It’s just a little ways off the interstate.”

“Sounds good. See if you can get us in. I’m beat.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Gabe said. “Talk to you later.”

Malcolm slipped his phone in his shirt pocket and watched the road, eyes getting heavy. He wished somebody else was in the car with him. He was afraid he’d nod off by himself. His phone rang.

“Malcolm? Gabe. We got a place. Pull through. A little pricey, but I don’t care at this point.”

“Good, me neither,” Malcolm said.

“Why don’t you guys let us take the lead again, and you can follow us in.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said. He and Ted moved over, and Dobie’s rig blew past them. They fell in behind him. The drive was short. Malcolm saw the fifth wheel slowing ahead of him, heading for the off-ramp. He and Ted followed. No small town to roll through this time. The KOA was right there, surrounded by farmland. Dobie made the turn and pulled into the staging area. It was the same drill as before. Gabe went into the office, and Dobie walked Duchess.

“Hope there’s not a pretty woman in this office,” Malcolm said to himself, chuckling. He was too tired to get out of the car, so he sat and waited until Gabe came out of the office and gave the thumbs up sign.

Dobie came back, letting Duchess into the the truck. Then he drove forward, Malcolm following and Ted taking up the rear.

The huge RV Park was almost empty. Dobie pulled in to their spot in the middle of the park and stopped. Ted and Malcolm pulled into some parking stalls nearby and walked over.

“Some drive,” Ted said. “I just want to eat and hit the sack.”

“You and me both,” Malcolm said, chuckling. “Wonder if there’s an eatery.”

“Yeah, I saw it on the way in.”

“I missed it,” Malcolm said. They heard the slide motors working on the fifth wheel. Gabe walked over.

“See the restaurant?” he asked. “How about a bite to eat?”

“Great minds think alike,” Ted said, laughing. They watched Dobie put the dog in the trailer and walk over.

“We gonna go eat?” he asked.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Malcolm said. They walked through the darkening evening, too tired to make much conversation. There were only a few people in the restaurant. They got a booth and sat. A pretty young waitress came over and took their orders.

“So, hear anything else on our quarry, Ted?” Gabe asked.

“Not since Dick Branson called,” he said. “I probably ought to call him back.” He pulled out his phone and punched the contact.

“Dick?”

“Yeah, Ted. How goes it. Make it to Columbus yet?”

“Nah, we made it to Brookville. We’ll finish the trip early tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ve talked to all the RV Park owners I know of on Route 36. They’re on the lookout for a short Class C pulling a CRV.”

“Good,” Ted said. “There many boondocking places along there? I’ll bet they had to stop somewhere. After what happened, I doubt if they’ve gotten any sleep at all.”

“I don’t know the area very well,” Dick said. “It was a struggle to get all the RV Park owners to agree to watch.”

“Wonder why?”

“Nobody trusts the government anymore,” Dick said. “It makes being a cop a real pain in the neck.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. I’ll let you know what we find at the house tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Dick said. “I’ll let you know if we see anybody along the road, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up much. I’d be shocked if they haven’t dumped that Class C yet. The license number and description are all over the place now.”

“Talk to you later,” Ted said. He ended the call and put his phone on the table as their food arrived.

The men ate silently and headed for their rig, going straight to bed.

Scott woke up to his phone alarm.
It was dark outside. He was spooned against Cindy, both of them sweaty. He moved away, and she stirred, turning towards him with a sleepy smile. Scott kissed her. “Good morning.”

“Don’t you mean good evening?” she asked, smiling, studying his eyes. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too. Ready to get up?”

“Yeah,” she said, sitting up, the blankets falling to reveal her naked front. “Kerry out there?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Scott said as he pulled his shorts on, then put on his shirt. “I’ll go check.”

Scott shimmied out of the bed, trying to leave the curtains closed as Cindy got dressed. The coach was dark. Kerry wasn’t there.
Shit.
He picked up his handgun, slipped it into the back waistband of his shorts and opened the door of the coach, grabbing a flashlight on the way out.

“Looking for somebody?” said a dirty looking man, sitting next to truck camper in the stark light of a Coleman lantern. He had stubble and was missing teeth, ratty salt and pepper hair hanging off his receding hair line.

“Kerry!” Scott cried.

“He don’t hear you,” the man said.

“Who the hell are you?” Scott asked, walking up.

“My name’s Toby, and you’d best be nice to me if you want your retard back. It’s gonna cost ya.”

“Like hell it is,” Scott said, walking towards the man. He heard a pump shotgun cocking behind him and froze.

“I’ll bet there’s a reward for your sorry ass,” the guy behind him said. “This rig looks a whole lot like the one that was involved in all them shootings.” He was a younger man, as dirty as the first, with stringy long black hair and a patchy beard to match.

“I ain’t that guy,” Scott said.

“I don’t really care one way or the other,” Toby said. “A few dead cops is a good thing, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know, Pa. Might be a decent reward. More than he’ll pay for the retard.”

“How much
will
you pay for the retard?” Toby asked. “I’m thinking a couple grand at least.”

“I don’t have that much money,” Scott said, glancing around. Cindy had snuck into the passenger seat in the rig and was sliding the window open.

“Well, we’ll just have to take your rig, then,” Toby said, laughing.

“Over my dead body, inbreed,” Scott said.

“That’s the idea,” Toby said, standing up. Then Cindy’s .357 went off, sending the man with the shotgun flying. Scott pulled his pistol and shot Toby in the gut, then turned and put a bullet into the other man’s head as he struggled to aim the shotgun. He whipped back around to see Toby holding a gun, and shot him in the head, splattering blood and brains on the front of his camper.

Scott ran to camper and ripped the door open. Kerry was on the floor, hands tied, duct tape over his mouth. Scott ripped the tape off and untied him as quickly as he could. “Run back to the motor home, Kerry.”

He looked at him through his tears, eyes horrified, and ran. Scott heard the Class B’s engine start, and watched as it backed out. He ran towards it, shooting at the tires, and sending a couple rounds into the back window. A woman screamed from inside, and it stopped with a jerk.

“Cindy, c’mon, let’s take care of those guys,” Scott yelled as he ran. She caught up with him, the .357 in her hand.

“We’re gonna kill them too?” she asked, eyes wild, a wicked smile on her face.

“They know what our rig looks like. I hope they didn’t call anybody.”

They got to the front of the Class B and looked in the windows. The driver’s head was splattered all over the dash. There was a scared woman in the passenger seat, frantically trying to work her phone.

“No! Please!” she cried as Scott pointed the gun at her face. He hesitated, but Cindy stuck her gun in closer and pulled the trigger.

“Damn, baby,” Scott said, laughing. “I’d better not piss you off.”

She looked at him and grinned. “We’d better check the inside.”

“Yeah,” Scott said. He went to the side door and slid it open. There wasn’t anybody else there. “Let’s take their food.”

“I’ll get it,” she said. “You go check the truck camper.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “I’ll send Kerry over to help.”

“Maybe we can get the supplies out of the other rig too.”

“Trust me, we don’t want anything out of there. They might have touched it. Those two smelled
bad
.” Scott ran over and checked the rest of the truck camper. There was nobody else there. He grabbed the handgun and shotgun from the bodies and dropped them off in the motor home.

“Kerry, come help us carry, okay?” he said. Kerry shook his head yes and followed, still very shaken.

“Not too much here,” Cindy said, carrying an armful. “Some good beer, though.”

They grabbed what they could and ran back over to the motor home. Scott got behind the wheel and drove back onto the dirt road, trying not to hit anything in the dark.

“We’re gonna get caught,” Scott whispered. “Only a matter of time.”

“Why do you say that?” Cindy asked, trying to catch her breath.

“Ballistics,” he said. “They’ll figure out the slugs in those folks came from my guns.”

“They registered to you?” Cindy asked.

“No, but they were used in other events,” Scott said. “You okay up there, Kerry?”

“I’m scared,” he said.

“I know,” Scott said. “Don’t worry.”

“Want me to let him sit here?” Cindy asked.

“When we get on the interstate, yeah. You should look out the back window for a while, just in case.”

“They won’t be after us that fast, will they?” she asked.

“Depends,” Scott said. “If the folks in the Class B called 911, we’re liable to have company pretty quick.”

“Would you have killed them if they didn’t try to leave?” she asked.

“No choice,” Scott said. “I hope nobody else was around.” He turned onto the paved road. They were on the interstate in a matter of minutes. It took quite a few miles for Scott to settle down.

***

Malcolm woke up first. His phone said 6:30. He slipped out of bed and got dressed, then wandered out the door, strolling through the KOA Park, listening to birds and the light breeze rustling the trees. It was peaceful. His mind was on the house. History. Terror from the 1930s and 40s sitting in that house, as untouched as the treasure trove they found at the RV Park. Torso Killer. Black Dahlia. Malcolm’s excitement was mixed with worry. Ted wanted to sit on the location. So did he, at first, but now he wasn’t so sure.
There’s a missing FBI agent.
Yeah, this particular individual was an idiot and also corrupt, but they’d be on dangerous ground if they didn’t come clean.
Talk to Ted again.

When Malcolm got back to the trailer, the door was open, and the men were getting ready to leave. Ted walked towards Malcolm.

“Everybody got up in a hurry, I see,” Malcolm said.

“Yeah. We’re going to the restaurant for some breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“What about?”

“The FBI and this house,” Malcolm said.

“You’re still worried about that, huh?”

“Yeah. We need to tell them. Before we get there. I don’t understand why you don’t want to.”

Ted hesitated for a moment.

“C’mon, Ted, spill. What’s going on?”

“They cut me off,” Ted said. “They’re withholding information. If we tell them about the house, they’ll just say thanks and order us to stay away.”

“Why’d they cut you off?” Malcolm asked.

“There are some agents who believe the bullshit that Agent Keith’s been shoveling. They look at us as suspects in the disappearance. They’re investigating Sheriff Branson too.”

Malcolm was silent for a few minutes. “There isn’t anybody you can trust anymore? How about Agent Cooper?”

“His career took a big hit after that business in Anza,” Ted said. “We’re still friends, but he quit talking to me about bureau stuff several years ago.”

“Let’s call him about this,” Malcolm said.

Ted sighed. “Okay, but it will probably lock us out.” He pulled out his cellphone and hit Agent Cooper’s contact.

“Agent Cooper.”

“Hi, Joe. It’s Ted.”

“Where are you?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“You at work?” Ted asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Tell me you don’t know anything about Agent Keith.”

“I don’t, Joe. Really. I’ve got information to share, but the bureau’s cut me off. I need to get it to somebody.”

“What information?”

“Malcolm figured out where Scott’s house is,” Ted said. “It’s in Columbus.”

“How does he know?”

“He put two and two together, after lots of research. The house belonged to a person named Rupert Smith. It was sold at the right time for Scott to have bought it, and the activity nearby suggests that it’s been his home base.”

“Rupert Smith. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He was a suspect in the Torso Murders and the Black Dahlia murder.”

“Oh, shit,” Agent Cooper said. “So what do you want from me?”

“We’re on our way to the house. I want to share the address with the bureau, but I don’t want to get locked out.”