Comin' Home to You (39 page)

Glass breaking from the front window delayed Ben’s movements. A shadowy figure could be seen, from beyond the pane for a split second. Ben’s eyes widened, then almost burst out of his head when he saw a large flaming glass bottle flying toward the kitchen. While the living room was large and full of furniture, it seemed the throw was well calculated and defined, easily sailing over any obstacles. Nothing was stopping it.

“FUCK!” screamed Ben. His face grew in horror.

The molotov cocktail exploded a few feet in front of the unprotected Taylor. The blast was enough to have her screaming. Ben’s lips trembled, then he raced toward her, though the pain in his leg made him stumble. When he got around the island, he noticed the damage. Taylor’s light jacket and yoga pants were burning. She was doing her best in her flustered state to pat the flames out. Ben quickly found a dish towel that was thankfully damp from on top of the island, then smothered each and every flame, first putting the flames out on his dearest. More gunshots sounded out that combined with her incessant sobbing. Ben wanted to cry too. He couldn’t bear to see his wife in this much pain. He looked at her hands. They were red, like a horrible sunburn. Her arms and legs probably got the same treatment, if not worse.

Picking her up and carrying her to a hopeful safer place inside the house, he could hear thrusting attempts to open the front door. It was locked through the handle and the deadbolt, so only a battering ram could really open the door. If the weakling BJ was the one doing it, he would likely have a difficult time. Another advantage in their favor was that the door stuck from the house settling over the past year, which was something he was glad he hadn’t fixed yet. He placed Taylor, whose sobs gradually declined into whimpers, into the master bathroom and locked the door, telling her to place cold water on each of her burns and only open the door for him and him only.

As he was exiting his bedroom doorway and rounding out into the hall, BJ was there. How he got in was unclear. Perhaps the broken window? But Ben had no time to dare answer that question. Both were surprised, because both men jumped, not expecting to see each other. BJ raised his right arm in response, ready to fire, but years of training and hard work will always trump anything else. Ben’s reaction time, aim, and trigger finger were true, and five bullets quickly found their way in BJ’s heart and stomach before BJ could even get off a shot. He collapsed to the floor on his back with his gun flying out of his hand. Ben raced to him and looked upon his fallen enemy. There was no life in his eyes. It was a quick and clean kill. It wasn’t his first.

“What the fuck was that!?” shrieked Taylor from inside the bathroom.

Ben trotted to the bathroom to keep his voice down. “That’s one down, baby. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. This hurts so bad. Where are the kids? Have you found them yet?”

“Not yet. I’m about to go outside and look, babe. They’ll be okay. I promise.”

His words weren’t assuring enough. She started crying again. The thoughts of something bad happening to them would make any worried parent break down. Ben knew he had to act fast. While not smart, Bird Dog was not likely standing by idle in the back yard. Thinking sensibly, he ascertained that Bird Dog was likely a distraction for BJ’s crude explosive. If that was the case, the fat man probably had his own backup plan.

Ben raced out the front door, hoping that he might be able to catch Bird Dog by surprise if he were still in the back. He peeked from a corner of the house to attempt to see him, but he wasn’t standing where he originally was.
Wonderful.
While he was contemplating a new plan of action, he heard an annoying voice ring out.

“Hey Chief, guess what I have!?”

The voice sounded muffled and with an echo.
The shed
. As if storming the beach of Normandy, he ran to the shed as fast as his bleeding and pained leg would take him. He jumped over a pink bicycle that was his daughter’s. Once he could see into the large shed entrance, his knees almost buckled by what he saw.

With a gun pointed to his little head, his son Adam whimpered. Snot oozed down his nose and mouth. Ben maintained a gruff demeanor, but on the inside, he was being torn apart. Yet, only Adam was here. Rainey was nowhere to be found.

“Oh hey, Chief,” boomed Bird Dog. “Look what I found wandering around. Drop your gun, or I put a bullet in this little skull.”

Adam wailed louder than his father could bear. He lowered and eased his rifle on the grass, not wanting to test the fat man. “Let him go. Please, let him go.”

“I will. Maybe. You meet my demands and I release him. That’s how it goes.”

“Give me my son and I will give you whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? Get that bitch wife of yours out here to suck my dick and lick my ass.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too. I’m the one with this little pussy kid of yours, and I got a gun to his head, motherfucker. You’ll do what I say.”

Ben wanted to reply by calling him every expletive he could think of, but he knew that was a good way to anger Bird Dog. “Then what do you want?”

“I’m pretty serious about that blow job.”

Owen scoffed. It was taking everything he could to not charge that fat fuck right now. “Ain’t gonna happen. Don’t ask it again.”

“I’ll ask whatever the fuck I want. Shut the fuck up or I’ll fill you and this little queer boy full of holes!”

Ben’s face turned red with intense hatred. At the moment, he completely forgot about the pain in his leg and back. He felt his body lean forward, like it was being pulled by a magnet. But he managed to stop himself when Bird Dog squeezed Adam’s jaw, causing his little face to contort in pain. A shrill scream escaped his mouth. Angered and rattled, Bird Dog grabbed and pulled Adam’s hair fiercely, almost ripping it from the scalp. “Shut up, you little fucking brat!”

Ben instantly reacted. His opportunity had presented itself with Bird Dog suddenly distracted by Adam’s pained wiggling. His hand swiftly pulled the handgun from the back waistline with his good arn, then aimed with quick precision. Bird Dog still hadn’t looked up until the first bullet entered his right clavicle area. Even though a bullet was already in him, it barely fazed him. A second shot roared out of Ben’s handgun, slicing through Bird Dog’s open mouth and through his chubby cheek, causing his other hand to loosen its grip on Adam’s hair.

But even through the sudden wounds, Bird Dog released a shot of his own, straight into Ben’s exposed chest. One more shot rang from Ben’s gun, but his new wound caused his gun arm to sway. Suddenly feeling weak, Ben’s legs wobbled and shook, until they collapsed and bent, taking him face first onto the slightly high green grass. Air no longer came into his lungs, no matter how hard he sucked. His body started to panic, until it suddenly went numb.

The last thing his eyes saw was Adam sprinting away from the house, down the hill to a small dry ravine where he and Rainey would sometimes play.

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“Fuck it, I’ll tell ya,” spoke Clint. His eyes were bloodshot, but that same strange smirk remained.“I just put together somethin’ that’ll make it a lot easier to take over when Scar’s dead and buried.”

“What’s that?” Nicky needed to know. He was tired of speculating.

“I sent BJ and Bird Dog to kill Ben Tomkins. You know, the chief around here? Killin’ him and-”

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND!?”

“Bitch, lower your god damn voice!” screamed back a cross Clint. “Don’t fuckin’ yell at me.”

“Do you not realize what you’ve done!? You’re going after the chief of police in an area known for gangs and drug manufacturing? You are inviting so much fucking trouble. The fucking feds and rangers will be on our asses. Might as well put some neon flashing signs that say ‘we make meth here, please arrest us’ above our fucking trailers. There’s no way in hell we’re getting out of this. We’re either in prison or in the ground after this.”

“Man, fuck you. Shouldn’t have said shit. I’m tellin’ ya. We’ll get a chief in there we can corrupt. Have him look the other way while we start makin’ that crystal and getting’ that shit sold. It’ll be like the old days before Ben’s goody two shoes ass. I know what I am doing, fucker.”

“No you don’t. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“At least I am making plans. I’m tryin’ to make something of myself. Unlike you. You’re just a follower. You know that?”

“Fuck you! I don’t fucking need this! I’m out!”

Nicky clenched one fist and reached for the door handle with the other. Even before the blow up, he was considering washing his hands of the situation anyway. He had heard what was said between Scar and Luella yesterday evening. The confirmation that he had indeed been getting shorted on payment felt like a slap in the face. But even still, he just couldn’t hate his best friend or what he was trying to accomplish.

When his hand touched the handle, he felt the warmed barrel of a handgun pressed against the back of his head. An anxious gulp sounded in Nicky’s throat, and a tightness took hold of the rest of his body.

“Motherfucker, you ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Clint threatened. His voice growled to sound more intimidating. “You gonna help me with this, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“It’s a new fucking world order ‘round here! If you ain’t with me, you’re against me! And I don’t give a fuck what I do! You turn your back on me, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill Scar, I’ll kill Owen, I’ll kill Ali, I’ll kill your fucking wife and kids! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!”

There was nothing but absolute still inside the truck cab. No sounds, no movements, nothing. Nicky held inside his screaming rage the best he could. His chest was also tight. Struggling not to grind his teeth, he had to take his mind elsewhere. His family, swimming in a pool in happiness was the first thought. For that to happen, he would have to bite his lip, swallow his pride, and yield to Clint. He was a ticking time bomb, and likely would act on all of those actions if he stayed on his bender. But that didn’t stop his thoughts of turning into dreams of smashing Clint into a bloody pile of mush. That day would come.

Clint smirked and shook his head, quickly calming down as if his screaming fit never happened. Turning his head, Nicky saw the gaze Clint had on him. It was mocking and disrespectful. But there was nothing he could do, at least not right now. He continued to reassure himself that Clint would get his. Nicky Suarez was not a motherfucker to cross. Then he could pack up his family and move to Mexico to get away from the Roaring 20’s. Nicky’s mind was currently a muddled and frantic mess.

Clint’s eyes focused when he heard the sounds of engines approaching. As they came into view, he slapped the steering wheel in his delirious happiness. “Showtime, bitches.”

Starting the truck and cranking up the tunes, Clint followed the two vehicles at a safe distance. Nicky remained apathetic, doing his best to silently calm himself.

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There was surprisingly little traffic on the way to Lake Fork. The main lake-going crowd had to wait another day for the weekend, so the drive there was relatively pleasant. When he made this same trup 15 years ago, he took a lot of unnecessary detours on county and dirt roads, just in case. Having a dead body wrapped up in a tarp in the bed of his truck would make anyone exceedingly paranoid. This time around, he just took the most direct route. As he neared the resort, he took a familiar turn off near a small faded and brick built car wash. He recalled how his heart almost pounded out of his chest then, because it was doing it now.

The road continued for a mile or so. A few mobile homes dotted the sides of the road, where a couple of dogs barked and chased them along the way. Eventually, he took a left to an old pasture path that was just wide enough for a vehicle. It was only used by fishermen who were looking for a more secluded spot to cast their line by the shore. Through a small plain area, the path cut to the right, toward the lake. Owen instead turned to the left, where no tracks of tires existed. His destination was where the trees started growing in dense abundance. It astounded Owen that Mother Nature or anyone else had changed the layout of this place. It was almost exactly as he remembered from back then. The woods grew thicker and darker the farther he journeyed in, where the sunlight only peeked through in certain places. As the terrain became mushier and less stable, he was getting worried he might get his daughter’s car stuck somewhere out here. After driving slowly for a few minutes, he noticed something was off. In the past, he had used a swamp as a landmark to help locate the place if he ever had to go back. Now, that swamp no longer existed.

Growing frustrated, Scar hopped out of his truck. “Is this it? Or are we going to keep driving for another god damn hour?”

Owen got out of his car. “You want the truth?

“You don’t remember where it is, do you?”

Sighing, Owen shook his head. “There was a swamp here back then. But it’s dried up, I guess. Now I’m not exactly sure where I buried the body.”

“Fuck. Are you sure there ain’t no fuckin’ trees or anything that will help you remember?”

He had a point. Most of his memories of digging the grave and its surroundings were vivid, but the layout of the trees wasn’t something he recalled. He focused all of his collective faculties on that damn swamp. He had to think fast. Scar was drunk and growing more and more impatient. Despite frantically digging 15 years ago, he still remembered the scene well. The swamp water was dark green, with a mossy top layer on most of the visible water. Floating in it were a few leaves and a large thorny locust branch that lay submerged in the water, though due to the size of it, was mostly exposed to the humid air.