Rumble Tumble

“We put one of the vehicles out of commission, take the other,” Leonard said.

“What we do first,” Herman said, “is slide down there and see what’s happening. Try and locate Tillie. There’s a chance she might not even be here. If she isn’t, we slide right on back, head to the plane on foot, and they never know we’ve been here.”

“He has a point,” I said.

“I’ll snoop down there, see if I can locate Tillie,” Leonard said. “I see her, I’ll come back and report. Then you disable one of the rides, Herman, hot-wire the other. Being a former career criminal, I assume you know how to do that.”

“I can manage,” Herman said.

“Then it’s you and me, Hap,” Leonard said. “We go down there and open up a can of blazing whup ass with a lava chaser.”

“You and Hap and me,” Brett said.

“If you insist on being modern,” Leonard said. “Me and Hap and you. One thing though, I go down there and you hear gunfire, don’t think I want to do the noble thing. You know, like have you leave my ass so you can escape. You come down there with guns blazing.”

“They’ll think it’s the Battle of the Bulge,” I said.

“I’ll take the honky spreader,” Leonard said.

I had been carrying it. I traded it for the standard pump shotgun. Brett was carrying one of the modified Winchesters. We had given Herman the other one. With some reluctance I gave him ammunition to put in it. I gave Leonard shotgun shells, fixed me and Brett up with loads.

“I’m so goddamn scared I’m shaking,” I said.

“I get scared,” Leonard said, “my dick gets hard.”

Leonard slipped the strap of the shotgun over his shoulder, went quietly and quickly over the rise on his stomach and began to crawl toward the ranch house.

Herman said, “I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

“Trust me,” I said. “He did this in Vietnam. He’s got a houseful of medals to prove it. He’s forgot more about stalking than you and me and Natty Bumppo ever knew.”

“Yeah, well,” Herman said, “let’s hope the stuff he’s forgotten isn’t the important stuff.”

The ground was pretty flat, but the brush grew thick now and was full of shadow. Leonard used this as his protection, crawling close to the ground.

I was starting to get giddy. Perhaps I needed a nap. A long vacation. Maybe Tillie was better off where she was and I was better off back at the house with Brett. I began to hanker for my bouncing job. I began to view working in the rose fields as a good time. I tried not to think too much about what I was doing. I didn’t want to shoot anybody, but I didn’t want to get Brett, Leonard, or myself killed by not shooting anyone.

I tried not to think about it. Trying not to think about it turned out to be a lot like thinking about it. I looked at Brett. She was peeking over the rise, watching Leonard slither down there. The moonlight fell across her face, and normally moonlight softened it, but now, without makeup, it looked hard and harsh, almost corpse pale. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth, normally full and inviting, was a thin line. Her hair was bound back severely with a black ribbon. She held the Winchester like someone who wanted to use it and might be disappointed if she didn’t get to.

I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

“He’s up to the house,” Herman said.

“Someone comes out of the house, points him out, we got to start shooting right then,” I said. “Maybe we should trade guns, Brett. Modesty aside, I can shoot the ass off a fly at a hundred yards.”

“I’m a good shot myself,” Brett said.

“Yeah, but I’m going to venture I’m better,” I said. “Leonard says I’m the best there is.”

“Like he knows everything,” Brett said.

“Don’t let him hear you say I said it, but about some things he knows more than anyone has a right to. Like how well I shoot. You get inside, maybe you should have the shotgun. Easy to handle, spreads people all over the place. It’s alternately loaded with buckshot and slugs.”

Brett thought a moment, traded weapons with me.

“You start getting heated up,” Herman said to Brett, “mind where you’re firing that thing.”

I eased up slightly on the rise, lay the dark-barreled Winchester on the dirt mound, and pointed it down there. I saw a man come outside lighting a cigarette. Behind him, through the open door, came the sound of music and laughing. I saw a woman in a red dress walk by. She was long and lean with big breasts and reddish hair. I couldn’t see her face.

Tillie?

I drew a bead on the man. He closed the door, clung close to the wall, finally fell away from it, staggered into the foliage, shook his head, slapped the back of his neck as if to wake himself. He opened his fly and started pissing while he smoked.

A shadow came off the ground and fell down on him and the cigarette shot out of the man’s mouth and the man went down. A moment later he was dragged into the foliage.

“Leonard must have knifed him,” Herman said.

“Strangled him,” I said. “Leonard can constrict those arteries, crush your windpipe while you’re still trying to decide what’s happening. That’s one down.”