The Final Shortcut (2 page)

Slowly he looked through the broken window and hoped not to see anything. He eased the door open and tried to sneak out of the cab; maybe he could run away and get some help. One step down onto the running board, one more to the ground, so far so good. He clutched the bat tight and held it in front of him as took a couple more steps toward freedom. The bodies of his co-drivers were laying in the dirt covered in blood and dust. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. Where was the killer? He looked in all directions as he quickened his pace. Clinging to the side of the trailer he walked steadily toward the rear. As he reached the end he took a step away from the trailer and looked around the back. Nothing. Two more steps, three more steps, he started to feel the joy of freedom as he walked even faster. With each step he moved faster and faster, steadily watchful. Twenty yards, thirty yards, faster, faster, he started to run, forty yards, fifty yards. A quick glance over his shoulder, sixty yards, seventy, and the truck started to look like a toy in a sand box. As he ran he swung the bat loosely at his side, the road straightened out and he could see a fork. Another look over his shoulder, a hundred yards now, he slowed his pace to catch his breath. Still running and still watching.

He could hardly breathe so he stopped and took one more look at the truck, happy to not see any movement. The maniac must have been hurt when he backed up the truck. Maybe he was caught under the wheel when it jack-knifed. Either way he was glad to have gotten away from that ruthless killer. But he wasn’t taking any chances; it was still a long walk out of the woods. As he turned he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder blade and at the same instant a hole the size of a beer can erupted from his right shoulder. It spun him around and another bullet pierced his breast bone knocking him backward. He grabbed his chest and looked back toward the truck. There was the murderer, standing at the end of the trailer with a rifle trained at him. The last thing he saw was the white puff of smoke as the third bullet was propelled at him.

Junior felt exhilaration at finally killing the last of his prey. But at the same time he was reeling from the tense excitement. It had only taken a couple minutes to fetch the rifle from his hunting shack nearby. He knew he had plenty of time because his family property was huge and remote. Never before had he come so close to losing at his favorite sport. He walked to the side of the road and sat down under a tree to rest. His right arm was bleeding from the shotgun blast, his shoulder ached, his back and sides hurt from the tumble off the truck. He had dirt and gravel in his eyes, mouth and clothes. But the agonizing throbbing in his head was gone. Now all he had to do was clean up the mess. The truck would go in the same hiding place as the others. And the bodies would also meet the same fate as many before. He could take his time now because no one ever came onto his private hunting ground. Everyone that heard about the short-cut never lived to tell a soul. As he sat there under the tree resting he could hear his father’s voice say, “Good job Junior.”

“Thanks dad.” He closed his eyes and smiled. Then easily fell asleep in the warm morning sun. Everything was all right now, he had everything under control.

Chapter 1

Misty roads weave through dense forests in the Bluegrass mountains of Kentucky. Every curve could be an adventure or a tragedy. During the height of the coal mining boom roads were cut where needed. Many were broad and safe while others wound precariously tight around the rocks. Magnificent views were just one of the rewards for the locals that worked the mines. But after World War Two when the mines began to play out, the workers were faced with a decision. Stay in the hills or move to another mining operation.

The year was 1947 and William Baumann was the proud father of his first child, a son. His young wife had always been frail and succumbed during childbirth. At 58 years old, the thought of moving was far from his mind. Instead he started a new business of his own. Over the years his closest friend Larry Hand had traveled the country delivering coal. And had built a fine trucking fleet in the process. The two of them had kindled the idea that growing marijuana would be a great way to make a living. It was a new fad that was catching on very fast. Faster than the laws could regulate. Larry had made many friends on the road and William had purchased some land in the hills. Enough to start a farm and provide a fresh start for their families.

The newest Baumann, Martin, would grow to be a fine grower. And by his fifteenth birthday the business was booming. Tall, broad shouldered and strong, he presented the image of a burly mountain man. When his father died of heart failure a couple years later, he took over the business without a hiccup.

Several other families had realized the potential of a cash crop. And the benefits of which were far reaching. The farms rescued the little mountain hamlet of Bontonville from certain demise. As the laws changed the community at large protected the farms and benefited from their enterprise. And by 1962, Bontonville was a healthy town again. Those not directly involved with the farms were amply compensated for their cooperation. An otherwise law-abiding town, it was like a large private club that held a dirty secret.

Martin’s closest childhood friend, Clyde Stokes, had recently returned from a tour in the Marines. He quickly landed a job as a deputy sheriff with the understanding of which laws to ignore. The two of them had grown up together in the fields so it wasn’t hard for Clyde to comply. Almost six years older than Martin, he enjoyed a good joint and didn’t see any harm in it. Particularly with some extra money in his pocket each week. They effortlessly rekindled their friendship and spent endless hours talking and smoking. It wasn’t very long before Clyde hit on the idea to have a party so they could meet some girls. Neither of them was very good with social graces so it seemed like the best way to make new friends.

The offices of the defunct Bluegrass Mining Company had been converted into a community hall. Situated deep in the woods, it had housed many parties over the years. Word traveled fast in the hills that those in their teens and twenties were all welcome. By nightfall the night of the party, dozens of youths crowded in for some dancing, drinking and smoking. It was here that Martin met the girl that would change his life forever.

Ellen Hicks was just over five feet tall, blond hair and aqua green eyes that melted Martin at the first glance. She was almost fourteen and he was seventeen. But it wasn’t unusual among mountain folk to start young. They talked and laughed for hours before stealing away to his truck to be alone. With the first kiss they were hopelessly in love. From that night on they were inseparable. Within two weeks he proposed, all with her family’s blessing.

After a quick, simple wedding, she moved into the Baumann home. A few short months later she announced she was pregnant. Almost immediately Martin became the protective father figure. He insisted that she not drink or smoke until after the baby was born. It was during the seventh month that she began to have severe headaches and heart palpitations. The local GP, Doctor Ray, told her to take it easy, stay off her feet and she would be fine. He felt it was her young age that was causing her troubles, but the baby was fine. He couldn’t bear to tell them his fears that she may not carry to the full term. He thought it best to ease their minds than to worry them anymore than necessary. He was an old-fashioned country doctor and didn’t put much stock in modern drugs. He was sure that rest and relaxation would serve them just fine. Ellen took the advice and took to her bed for the next three weeks. She began to feel somewhat better, though she never told Martin how weak she felt.

Two weeks before Christmas, Ellen decided to sneak a few joints and a little moonshine for a private celebration. While he was away shopping for Christmas she went out on the back porch to catch a buzz. She would be able to see his truck coming in plenty of time to get back inside and cover her tracks. The shine burned a little going down, but not too bad. The joint tasted very good even though it made her gag a little. The second toke was even easier. By the time she had gotten through the first half, it was already having the desired effect. The shine tasted better the second time and she could already feel it working on her brain. She began to feel very high, very quickly and she realized how much she had missed smoking. By the time she lit the second joint she was singing her favorite tune and strolling around the porch. She took a big gulp of the shine and it hit her stomach like a sucker punch... Her head began to throb and she felt like she may pass out. She stumbled into the banister and fell down the three steps to the ground. The last thing she remembered was the bile rising in her throat.

Martin found her lying on her side in a muddy puddle of sweat and vomit, barely breathing and very pale. Without wasting a second he scooped her up in his arms and loaded her in the truck for a dash to the hospital. One huge disadvantage of living like a recluse in the back woods was the availability of rescue services. She could be dead before an ambulance could find their secluded farm. So as he sped over the dirt roads, he did the next best thing. He called on the CB radio for his childhood pal Sheriff Stokes. Who was able to catch up to them and escort them to the hospital twenty-six miles away. Ellen had stopped breathing before they arrived and her pallor was very gray. The emergency room was thankfully not crowded and the staff was able to revive her after many long agonizing minutes. She didn’t wake up but she was stabilizing and they were able to hear two heartbeats. Martin fell to his knees as the rush of emotions and relief overtook him. He began to cry and he swore that he would never leave her side again.

“She’s gonna be all right Marty,” Clyde Stokes said as he put his arm around him and helped him to his feet. “Doc Ray is on his way an’ you can just bet she’s gonna be fine.” Martin relaxed a bit and found his way to a chair in the corner of the waiting room.

“When can I see her?” he asked, expecting his old friend to have all the answers. Clyde looked at him and smiled, “Now how am I supposed to know, she’s in good hands and when they put her in a room I’m certain they will let you know. Alright?”

Martin looked at him with moist eyes and said, “I don’t even want to think about living without her or the baby.”

“Now don’t even think like that,” Clyde retorted, “we don’t need any negative vibes creeping into your karma now do we?”

Martin looked up and couldn’t resist laughing out loud at his pal’s remark. “You sound like one of them Hollywierd hippies in the movies.” He had made Martin feel better, made him feel a bit calmer as he relaxed into the chair. “You’re right; I don’t need to make things worse by worrying too much. I need a joint, wanna join me?”

Clyde’s eyes popped wide open and he stood up involuntarily, “I swear you beat all I ever seen.” he had stopped smiling and he noticed several of the other patrons had overheard Martins invitation. “If I catch you doing anything like that I’ll have to lock you up no matter how long we been friends.” He straightened his gun belt and wiped the sweat off his upper lip. “Now you just take care, I’ve got some police business to take care of,” Clyde winked at him almost imperceptivity, “Got to check on the jailhouse security, take care now.”

Jailhouse security was their code word for a special meeting place where they would meet for a quiet smoke. Martin knew his friend’s speech was for the rest of the folks there. He would meet him behind the hardware store later, which used to be a jailhouse at the turn of the century. Sheriff Stokes passed Doc Ray in the hallway as he was leaving and exchanged a few words, Martin could tell by their expression that there was some bad news. As the doctor walked into the room Martin rose to meet him but the doctor motioned for him to sit back down.

“What’s wrong Doc?” He could feel his stomach tighten as he sat down.

“I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about. She still hasn’t woken up but she’s gonna be fine.” Doctor Ray put his hand on his shoulder and smile. “Want to see her?”

The small hospital was clean well equipped. It only took a few seconds to find her room.

Martin stepped up to the bed and gazed fixedly at Ellen’s beautiful features, a small bruise on her forehead was the only distraction to otherwise perfect face. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek and began to cry quietly. A flood of tears ran down his face. No one said a word for several minutes; the only sound was that of the monitors beeping and of grafts being written by other machines. Just then Ellen uttered a low groan, the heart monitor sped up and a huge wet spot appeared between her legs. The nurse immediately ran out the door and she could be heard yelling orders to others just out of sight. Doctor Ray grabbed Martin and pulled him away from the bed just as the nurses descended on Ellen.

“Look out Martin, you’re about to become a father.” Doctor Ray whisked Martin out of the way when some other attendants rushed in to move Ellen to delivery. The next many hours were very intense for everyone; with Ellen still unconscious the delivery was tediously slow. Twice she stopped breathing and her heart rate ping ponged out of control. So much that the attending physicians were certain she would not pull through. Martin was nearly catatonic by daybreak when the nurse came into the waiting room to fetch him. “What’s wrong, is she alright, is the baby ok, can I see her?”

“Yes you can see her, mother and baby are resting quietly in recovery, it’s a boy!” The nurse thought she would have to catch Martin as the relief of her news almost made him pass out. Doctor Ray had not left his side all night and now he went with him to see Ellen. She was still out cold but all the machinery told them that she was nearly back to normal. He gazed at her for a moment and silently uttered a prayer thanking the Maker for his small miracle. “Where is our baby... my son.” his voice was weak as he asked the nurse for the directions.

“He’s in the incubation chamber right now and if you will follow me I’ll take you to him.”