Peak Oil (6 page)

The Becks made their way to their table, holding hands.
 

“Hi, there. David Beck.” The man stuck out his hand. “This is my wife, Lucy.”
 

Neil and Alexa greeted them and introduced themselves. The Becks stood at their table, smiling at them and looking from one to the other.

Neil sighed and motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”
 

David nodded, pulled a chair out for his wife and sat down next to her. He grinned at Alexa. “I hear you visited the slammer.”

Alexa looked at him, cocking her head. “News spreads fast.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”
 

“Why?” Lucy asked with a concerned look on her face.

Alexa touched Neil’s arm before he could protest. “A misunderstanding, that’s all.”

David turned to Neil. “Chris tells me you left Pete banged up; he was hollering like a mangy mutt down at the clinic.”

Alexa glanced at Neil. “You did what?”

Neil shrugged. “I questioned the barman.”
 

Alexa mouthed a silent “Oh.”

Missy walked in balancing two plates, cutlery, and sodas on a tray. David Beck smiled and stood up. “We best get going ourselves. See you all later.” They said their farewells and the Becks sauntered away.

Missy made a show of unloading the plates, piled high with burgers and fries. She arranged the cutlery and poured their drinks. “Eat up, now.” She smiled at Alexa and squeezed her shoulder. “We need to put some meat on those bones, you hear me?”

Alexa grinned and popped a fry in her mouth. “Who was the cowboy?”

Missy wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, he’s nobody. Works for Mr. Fitch, or so he says. No one knows what he s’posed to be doin’ around here. Always snoopin’ round, sticking his nose into everyone’s business.”
 

Missy waved her hand and tossed a napkin over her shoulder. “The water supply is on the fritz again. You’ll need to wait a bit for me to start the pump going on the rain container.” She leaned closer and winked. “Lucky I keep the tank full for times like these. Gimme fifteen minutes before you take a shower or fill the tub.”

They thanked Missy, and she disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Mary-Lou behind. The little girl stood there, staring at Alexa.
 

“Guess what I have?” she asked Alexa, holding one arm behind her back.
 

Alexa smiled and lifted the girl up onto her lap. “I don't know. Show me.”
 

Mary-Lou held up her hand with a flourish and handed a small photo to Alexa. “You’re beautiful. Just like the girl in the picture.”
 

“Thank you, my darling.” Alexa studied the photo and her eyes widened. “Where did you find this, Mary-Lou?” She handed the passport-sized photo of herself to Neil.
 

Mary-Lou shrugged. “The man that fell. I found it in his pocket.”

“Where?” Alexa asked.

Mary-Lou jumped down from Alexa's lap. “Come, I’ll show you,” she shouted as she bolted out the door.

Mary-Lou dashed down the hill toward the road, and Neil and Alexa jogged to keep pace. A hundred yards farther down, she stopped at the main road for a second and scanned left and right. Mary-Lou looked over her shoulder to make sure that she was still being followed.

“Grandma Pauline says to always look left and right before crossing the road,” she said to them. Neil grabbed her hand as an oil tanker rumbled past.
 

Mary-Lou pulled him across the road and stopped at the bus stop. She pointed to a spot next to it. “There, that’s where he was sleeping.”

“So you took his wallet?” Neil asked with a frown.

She nodded. “I found it on the ground. I only took the picture of the pretty lady, I promise,” Mary-Lou said and crossed her heart. “And I put the wallet back in his pocket.”

Neil walked around the bus stop, kicking at some clumps of grass. Alexa examined the surrounding area but found nothing useful.

Alexa blew back a strand of dark hair from her eyebrow. “Do you know what the man looked like?”

The girl shrugged. “He was asleep; I couldn’t see.”

Neil scanned up and down the road. A side road led to a small bus terminal nestled between some trees. Two hundred yards down the road, he could make out a leafy suburb. No sign of any movement in the road.

Alexa nodded. “Okay then, let’s go finish our burgers and try to piece this together.”

They walked back up the hill toward the Ocelot Inn, and Mary-Lou held Neil’s hand, skipping merrily as she went.

Chris Fitch stood, leaning against the wall of the greengrocer across the road, out of sight. He studied the three people walking up the hill.
 

The man was tall and solidly built; he had a bounce in his step, like an athlete. The dark-headed woman was a beauty, a head shorter than the man. She had a musical voice that reminded him of bells when she laughed.
 

He took a final puff from his Marlboro, flicked it onto the sidewalk, and ground it with the heel of his boot. He fumbled in his pockets for a cell phone and punched in a number.

“McAllister’s Mortuary, this is Mac speaking.”

“Mac, Chris. You taken care of the Frenchies like my dad asked you to?”

“Yep. Cremated this morning.” The man laughed. “Not a dry eye in the house.”

Chris Fitch nodded, fanning his face with his Stetson. “You’re going to handle the accident?” he asked.

“Yep. Already on it,” Mac said.

Chris Fitch nodded. He disconnected the call and glanced toward the roof of the Ocelot Inn that was visible at the top of the hill. Poor Missy.

Reg Voelkner opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see a thing. His ribs throbbed, and it felt as if his brain was about to explode. He propped himself up but felt himself being firmly pushed back down.
 

“Shush now, lay back down. Do you know where you are?” a gentle female voice asked.

He shook his head. He could barely move his neck.

“You’re in Saint Josephine’s Clinic in Dabbort Creek, Texas. My name is Nurse Betty Parker. Can you remember what happened to you?”

Voelkner scanned his memory banks. “Bar fight,” he whispered hoarsely. He had probably broken his back; he couldn’t feel his legs.

“That’s right. You were messed up badly. You took a beer bottle on the melon, and you were beaten like a red-headed stepchild afterward.”

Voelkner groaned as a spike of pain shot through his chest. “How long?”

The nurse was silent for a while. “Four days, give or take. We had to sedate you; you were moaning somethin’ awful, disturbing the other patients and all.”

He swallowed. “Am I blind?”

“No, honey, we wrapped you up real good, taped your eyes shut to keep them from drying out. Here, let me just—”
 

Voelkner heard a loud tearing noise as his eyelid felt like it was ripped from his face. He jumped up and tumbled from the bed, an IV stand crashing down next to him.

“Do you want to maim me for life, you crazy bitch?” he shouted in French.

He saw a blurry sneaker on a shiny, linoleum floor in his peripheral vision. A knee appeared next to it.

“My, my, you are a feisty one, aren’t you? And you speak foreign.”

He pushed himself up to his knees and hung his head, trying to fight the dizziness. He fumbled blindly where he thought his face was but he felt nothing. His bandaged hand slipped on the smooth floor and he fell down on his face. He heard his nose crack, and felt tears well up under his eyes.

“
Merde!
” he shouted.

The nurse helped him to his feet and back into bed. Her hands were strong and supportive. She picked up the IV stand and rolled it back into position. “Now let’s take the final one off.”

Voelkner held his bandaged hand in the air. He wondered if it had been amputated. “Wait, you crazy bitch, before I lose my other eye,” he said in French.

“Oh, you speak pretty. You want to do it yourself then? Okay, let me unwrap your hand.”

She gently peeled the bandage from his arm. Finally, he saw his hand. He moved his fingers; they worked just fine.

“Shit, you people must use up a crapload of bandages in this place,” he said in English.

“Ooh, I love your accent,” Nurse Betty said as she unwrapped his other hand. “You could say we’re well-stocked, yes.” She cut a plaster holding all the bandages in place. “We need to use up all our stock before the end of the month to make room for the new stuff. Mr. Fitch is real generous.”

Voelkner peeled the plaster from his eyebrow and tried to gently pull it off. It was stuck on solidly. He shrugged and used Nurse Betty’s method. “Oh, shit, you foul-mouthed whore of Satan,” he screamed in French and writhed in pain. Nurse Betty held his thrashing body down on the bed and whispered soothing words into his ear.
 

“There, there now, mister. Here, take a look.”

She handed him a mirror. He blinked his eyes. His eyebrows were gone and his nose was more skewed than he had remembered it; apart from that, he looked the same. He shrugged. Any change to his face was probably an improvement. He looked over the mirror at the smiling face of Nurse Betty.

He blinked once, twice. She was a looker. Her young face was framed with curly blonde hair. She blinked her long, false eyelashes at him.
 

Merde, this woman is a beauty queen.

Voelkner put on his most charming smile and held out his hand. “Mademoiselle, it is an absolute privilege to be awoken from my nightmare by Aphrodite herself.” He took her hand and gently kissed it, his lips lingering on her fingers.

She giggled and pulled her hand away. “Oh, you foreigners with your charm. I’m only a country girl. You’re making me blush.”

Voelkner smiled at her for a moment and then remembered why he was here. “Mademoiselle, you need to get me out of these bandages. I have an important mission to complete.” He looked around the room. “Where is my partner?”

The nurse shrugged. “I don’t know. You were the only one admitted.”

Voelkner grabbed her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You were the only one admitted. I don’t know where your partner is.”

“
Merde
.” He let go of her shoulders. “Okay, please help me get up and dressed.”

“I’m afraid it’s not going to be a simple procedure,” she said and bit her lower lip.

“Why?” Voelkner asked with a frown.

“Well, we had some spare plaster that I had to use up.”
 

“Where?” Voelkner asked with a trembling voice.

She pointed toward his crotch.
 

Voelkner’s eyes widened. “Down there?”

She nodded with a pained expression on her face. “It kept standing up.”

Voelkner slapped his forehead. “Oh, dear Mary, help me survive this day,” he said in French.
 

Nurse Betty bounced up and down and clapped her hands. “Ooh, I love it when you speak foreign.”

Alexa's phone rang and she glanced at the screen. Her body stiffened. She swiped the phone to answer.
 

“Voelkner?”

“Good day, Captain. How are you?”

She clicked her fingers at Neil. “Just dandy, thank you for asking. Where the hell are you?”

Neil walked closer.
 

Alexa cupped the microphone. “It’s Voelkner,” she whispered and pointed to the phone. A relieved expression spread over his face.

“I’m at the Saint Josephine’s Clinic in Dabbort Creek, Captain.”

Alexa punched the air and jogged to door, grabbing the car keys from a table. “All right, Lieutenant, see you in five minutes. I’m on my way.”

Alexa sped into Saint Josephine’s parking area and spotted Voelkner sitting on a white bench in the gardens. A plump nurse sat next to him, sharing a cigarette and laughing. Alexa screeched to a halt, trailing two black rubber lines behind the rented Chevy. Voelkner looked up and waved at her. He kissed the nurse’s hand and hurried to the car.

Voelkner slid into the backseat and saluted. “Captain.” He smelled like antiseptic and tobacco smoke. His head was cleanly shaven, and he had several stitches on his crown. His eyelids were puffy and swollen, the eyebrows gone.

Alexa turned around and examined her troop. “Voelkner, you had me worried, there. Where is Latorre?” she asked in French.

Voelkner shrugged. “I don’t know, Captain. Apparently he didn’t arrive at the hospital with me.”
 

“Shit.”

Voelkner smiled at her. “You were worried about me?”

Alexa sighed, made a K-turn, and headed toward the main road, aptly named “Main Road.” She turned right and drove into town. “What happened?” she asked, looking at Voelkner in the rearview mirror.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Captain. Everything is still hazy. I remember that Jackson got into a fight with some biker guy.” He grinned. “Obviously, Latorre stepped in.”