Desperate Times Three - Revolution Page 17

  “I hope none of you are afraid of dogs,” Pops said, one hand on his hip and the other on the door handle.

  “Why?” asked Julie.

  As if on cue, from the other side of the door came the sound of barking dogs. Julie stepped back as Pops gave them all a serious stare. “Don’t look them in the eyes,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the snarling, growling, barking dogs from behind the stout wooden door. “And whatever you do, don’t try and pet them. You’re likely to lose a hand.”

  “I think I want to sleep in the bunkhouse,” said Julie, looking from Jimmy to Pops. “I’m afraid of dogs.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Bill, “me, too.”

  Pops nodded his head, winked, and slowly opened the door. Julie gasped and jumped back. Suddenly, two dogs bolted from the door, and they all began to laugh at the sight of them. The first dog out the open door was an overweight, swaybacked Dachshund. He ran to Pops on four stubby legs and shook his head with excitement, his tail wagging fiercely behind him. The other dog looked more like an overgrown, scrawny rat. Jimmy thought the little dog to be a Chihuahua, but he couldn’t be sure. The little creature bounced up and down with unbridled energy.

  “Lose a hand, huh?” Ken asked, shaking his head.

  “This is Fatboy,” Pops said, stooping over to pat the little dog on his head. “That one there,” he said, pointing to the Chihuahua, “is Oliver. Don’t worry. I was just pulling your leg. They don’t bite. Hell, in dog-years they’re older than I am. C’mon, let’s get inside.”

  They were instructed to remove their shoes as they entered and were greeted by a roaring fire in a colossal fieldstone fireplace that sat in the middle of the great room. Staring down from near the top of the twenty-foot knotty pine ceilings were the heads of dozens of mounted wild animals. Jimmy whistled, gazing across the open room at authentic bear rugs and full body mounts of two wolves attacking a stuffed bull moose.

  “I know,” said Pops. “Sort of takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s so cool,” said Bill with unbridled enthusiasm. He seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be sulking. “Hey, Jimmy, check out the badgers by the fireplace. That’s spooky, man.”

  “Yup,” Pops said. “This is my favorite room in the house. Go on and take a load off. I’m going to head into the kitchen and put a pot on for some cocoa. Julie, do you want to see the kitchen?”

  “Uh, sure,” said Julie.

  Jimmy watched as she followed the old man around the corner and out of sight, Fatboy and Oliver trotting along behind them.

  “This is some room,” Ken said, craning his neck to get a better view.

  “This is so cool,” repeated Bill.

  The sunken great room was at least sixty feet across and forty feet deep. The glow of the fireplace reflected off the sprawling oak hardwood floor. A huge leather sectional couch sat in one corner of the room, looking small and insignificant among the mounted beasts and Native American artwork that adorned the walls. Pops, followed by his little dogs, reappeared a few minutes later. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll show you to your rooms. Just so you know, I’m bending the rules here. We usually put everyone up in the bunkhouse. You people being celebrities, I thought I’d make an exception.”

  “Ah,” said Julie. “That’s so kind of you.”

  “Yeah, really,” agreed Ken. “Thanks a lot. This is a beautiful house.”

  “Sure is,” Pops said, waving his arm across the room at Jimmy. “Let’s move it, longhair. I ain’t got all day.”

  “Longhair,” said Bill, nodding his head. “That’s funny.”

  “Shut up, Bill,” said Jimmy, rising to his feet, ears burning.

  “You could use a haircut,” commented Ken. “Nobody would call you that with a haircut like mine,” he chuckled, running his hand over the thick, steel-gray stubble on top of his head.

  “I like his hair just like it is,” said Julie, defending him.

  “Can we change the subject?” asked Jimmy as they all followed Pops up the rough-hewn, wooden staircase that ran up the back wall of the great room.

  At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, and Pops waited for everyone there. “Each room has its own bathroom, and there should be plenty of towels and bathroom junk, like toothpaste and shampoo, in there. I took the liberty of you in this room over here,” he said to Julie, opening a dark-paneled door to reveal a large bedroom with two queen beds. “Didn’t you bring a suitcase or a bag or something?”

  “Our things are still out in the truck.”

  Ten minutes later in their shared room, Bill struggled with the zipper on a pair of Levis. There were three pairs of jeans laying scattered on the floor. “Damn it,” Bill groaned, sucking in his breath. “This isn’t fair. How come my stuff doesn’t fit?”

  Jimmy shook his head. He had taken a five-minute shower and had dressed comfortably in a blue and white pair of plaid, flannel pajamas and moccasin slippers. “Why don’t you just wear your pajamas? It’s already almost ten o’clock. If he serves breakfast at six, I want to be sleeping by eleven.”

  “I’m not getting up at six.”

  “You will if you want to eat.”

  “Patty always fed me no matter what time I got up.”

  “Pops isn’t Patty. Do you have to push things, Bill? Why do you always do that? We’re living under someone else’s roof, and we should abide by their rules. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  “Oh, so now you’re one of them,” Bill hissed, making one last futile attempt at the zipper. “Well, that just figures.”

  “I’m not one of anyone,” Jimmy said, wondering if that were true.

  “It sure sounds like it. Why does everyone always have to pick on me?”

  Jimmy thought about that as he walked out of the bathroom, shutting off the light behind him. “You know, you bring a lot of that on yourself. You need to quit going against the grain. Do you know what I mean? If you’d stop being such a pain in the ass, people wouldn’t be so mean to you. Now, put your pajamas on and let’s go join the others.”

  Bill hung his head and waved Jimmy away. “Like I said, you’re just like everyone else. You’ve changed, man. You really have. Don’t worry about me; nobody else does. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Jimmy stood at the bedroom door with his mouth hanging open. He shook his head and left the room.

  They sat up for two hours, sipping their cocoa and listening to Pops spin stories, some of which sounded more like tall tales. Bill arrived a few minutes after Jimmy, cold and distant, but by the time they decided to call it a night, his mood had greatly improved and he seemed genuinely happy to be there.

  “Yup,” Pops said, stretching his arms above his head. “Time to hit the rack. I hope everyone likes scrambled eggs and flapjacks. That’s all we eat for breakfast, unless you like corn flakes. We got plenty of those. Good night.” Fatboy barked twice from the third stair, beckoning his master. Oliver scampered up to join him.

  “Looks like it’s time to call it a night,” Ken said, smiling at the little dogs.

  “You’d better hurry up,” said Bill. “They look pretty vicious.”

  Everyone laughed at that, and Bill looked pleased with himself. He growled and clawed at the air. Jimmy chuckled. Bill could never resist an encore.

  The bedroom was chilly; Bill had shut the door behind him, and Jimmy found that the heat duct was closed. He opened it up and left the bedroom door open just a crack. With Bill tucked in his bed, Jimmy flipped the light switch and climbed into bed. They talked for about ten minutes, reliving their crazy day and giggling like a pair of schoolboys. Jimmy could see a sliver of moon and a billion stars out the long window at the foot of his bed. He fell asleep thinking about those stars and wondering what the next day would bring.

  Chapter 27

  “When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first things to be bought and sold are legislators.” ~ P.J. O'Rourke

  “Wak
e up, Jimmy!”

  Jimmy jumped up in the dark and rubbed his eyes. Bill had him by the pajamas and was shaking him, literally trying to pull him from the bed. Jimmy tried pushing him away, but his muscles felt like wet rags and lacked any strength. “Leave me sleep,” he muttered, thickly.

  “We’ve got to wake the others and get out of here!” Bill stammered. “Can’t you hear the alarm? I think its carbon monoxide!”

  The words sent a chill up Jimmy’s spine, and he willed himself up and out of the warm bed. His head spun, and he felt somewhat drunk. “Oh, shit,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

  “There’s no time for that!”

  “What?”

  Bill turned on the light, and Jimmy was momentarily blinded. He shielded his eyes, searching for his slippers. He quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and a denim jacket from the closet. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he followed Bill out into the hallway.

  “Wake up!” shouted Bill. “We’ve got carbon monoxide in the house. The alarm is going off!”

  “The alarm!” shouted Jimmy, forcing the words from his mouth. “Wake up!”

  Bill began opening doors and turning on lights. “Wake up! The alarm is going off!”

  Scratching their heads, looking dazed and confused, the others slowly emerged from their bedrooms. Jimmy, clutching his clothes to his chest, took Julie by the hand. “Grab some warm clothes,” he instructed her, slowly finding his voice. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I feel funny,” she said, her knees buckling slightly. “Whoa.”

  “Come on,” Jimmy said, brushing past Julie. “Let’s get dressed. We don’t have a minute to lose.”

  A minute later the group was standing out on the front lawn. Bill, their savior, had even thought to save the two little dogs. He held their listless bodies in his arms as Pops tried to pull himself together. Jimmy looked and saw that everyone but Bill had managed to grab something to wear. Pops was dressed in blue jeans and a tired-looking bathrobe. Under one arm he carried a pair of work boots.

  Jimmy walked up to Bill and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy,” he said. “Looks like we owe you. Big time.”

  “I don’t know how I woke up. It had to be a miracle.”

  “What the hell?” Pops asked, shaking his head in disbelief. He pointed down to the bunkhouse, which sat roughly a football field away. “We’ll have to stay down there tonight. There must be something wrong with the furnace. Oh, thank God. You saved my boys!” A tear suddenly fell from the old man’s cheek.

  “I think they’ll be okay,” said Bill, offering Fatboy to Pops. “They just need some fresh air.”

  Fatboy responded immediately by licking his master from chin to nose; the tail that had been tucked between his little legs began to wag back and forth.

  “I’ll never forget this,” Pops said, sticking his hand out to Bill.

  Bill took the hand and the two shook, just as their close call turned into a full-blown nightmare. The explosion nearly knocked everyone off of their feet, and Jimmy wobbled unsteadily, taking Julie by the waist. A moment later debris began raining down upon them as the night turned as bright as day.

  What remained of the bunkhouse was a black skeleton engulfed in a flaming horror.

  “Move!” barked Ken. “Get away from the house!”

  “What about Roger and Alex?” moaned Julie.

  “They’re gone!” Jimmy shouted. “Ken’s right. We have to get away from the house. It could blow up!”

  “What’s happening?” Pops said, his cheeks wet with tears. “What the hell is going on?”

  With the heat from the blazing bunkhouse at his back, Jimmy began ushering the others away from the house and down to the barn. Suddenly, appearing from out of nowhere, Roger Dunn was at Julie’s side. His face was smudged with soot, and his clothes seemed to be smoking. His eyebrows were gone.

  Julie shrieked and flung her arms around him. “Oh, I thought you were dead!”

  Dunn shook his head and pointed to his ears.

  “What the hell happened to you?” asked Ken, taking Dunn by the shoulder. “How could you have possibly survived that?”

  The big man looked at Ken as if he had lost his mind but still said nothing. Dunn held his hands over his mouth and practically galloped into the bushes. The terrible sounds of his retching were awful and Jimmy turned away, staring back at the leaping flames engulfing the bunkhouse. And then he felt his jaw drop open as Alex Jacobs staggered from the shadows. Jimmy turned his head, and he and Ken locked eyes. Was it possible that both men had survived the blast? Jimmy didn’t know, and one look at Ken told him that he didn’t believe it.

  There was a killer among them; Jimmy was somehow sure of it.

  “Roger?” asked Jacobs, desperately looking from face to face. “Has anyone seen Roger?”

  “And what the hell happened to you?” asked Ken, all caution thrown into the wind. “What happened back there? What the hell did you do?”

  “Do?” asked Jacobs, his face blank, seemingly with shock. “I picked myself up and walked down here. Have you seen Roger?”

  Pops was suddenly standing next to Ken. In his hand was the unmistakable shape of a Colt .45. The gun was pointed at Alex Jacobs. “Nice try,” the old man said, his voice unsteady with anger. “I did two tours over in Vietnam, seen some nasty shit. That boy over there,” Pops said, motioning to the dark form in the bushes. “He’s got what you call shellshock. His eardrums got blown out, maybe never hear again. What’s your story? Why, your clothes ain’t even dirty.”

  “Pops,” Jacobs said, holding up his hands. “You’ve known me for twenty years. Are you saying that I blew up the bunkhouse?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Jacobs stood in silence for a second, and Jimmy stepped away from him. In the blink of an eye, Alex Jacobs produced a sidearm of his own.

  Pops didn’t hesitate. There was an explosion, and fire leapt from the barrel of the Colt. The bullet caught Jacobs directly between the eyes. He flew back as if someone had whacked him in the forehead with a sledgehammer. There was a long moment of silence as everyone absorbed what had just happened.

  “Holy shit,” muttered Julie.

  “Holy shit is right,” agreed Pops. “You all saw what happened; he went for his gun. I had no choice but to punch his ticket, the bastard. Look, we’ve got some serious problems. Somebody wants all of us dead. I don’t know who that dog turd was working for, but he sure as hell was gonna kill us all. Damn, I thought he was my friend.”

  Fatboy and Oliver were huddled in Bill’s arms, and everyone was staring at Pops. The old man returned the Colt to a shoulder holster and shook his head. “C’mon,” he said. “We’d better get down to the barn. We should be safe down there, at least for the time being.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Ken. “Jacobs is dead.”

  “Jacobs wasn’t acting alone,” Pops said, pointing down to the barn as he began to walk. “Somebody put him up to that. You know he was CIA, don’t ya?”

  “I had no idea,” Ken said, turning his head to Jimmy. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “Not a word.”

  “I knew it,” said Bill, still carrying the little dogs. “I thought that guy was a spook.”

  Julie poked Jimmy in the ribs as they continued to walk down the grassy slope to the barn. Pops directed them all to a side entrance. He opened the door and fumbled for a light switch. They entered a room that looked like the waiting room to a veterinary clinic. Plastic chairs lined the walls, and a steel desk sat in the corner. Wooden shelves held Mason jars and rusty cans, and most of the surfaces inside the ten-by-twenty room were covered in cobwebs.

  “I know, it ain’t much,” Pops said, pulling out an ancient-looking electric heater from a small closet. “But it’ll do for now. We’ve got to decide what to do.”

  Chapter 28

  “If voting changed anything, they'd make it illegal.” ~ Emma Gol
dman

  “I know, it ain’t much,” Pops said, pulling out an ancient-looking electric heater from a small closet. “But it’ll do for now. We’ve got to decide what to do. There’s is a washroom just through that door, if you want to get changed. We got the water shut off, so don’t go flushin’ the john.”

  “Won’t your men at the gate call the police?” asked Julie, opening the bathroom door and turning on the light. “They had to hear the explosion and see the glow of the fire. Besides, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “No such luck. Those guys at the gate only work until ten. There isn’t another person around these parts for almost ten miles. Seriously, young lady, do you think the cops are gonna believe that? With Jacobs out there with a hole in his head? I don’t think so.”

  Julie nodded in agreement, holding the door open as Jimmy walked in. “What do you think we should do?”

  Pops shook his head and spat. “I think we need to light outta here.”

  “I was just gonna say the same thing,” agreed Bill.

  As much as Jimmy wanted to, he held back from correcting Bill. He knew the others felt the same way. There was no doubt that he had just saved them all, once again, from certain death. He would have his moment; he deserved that. Jimmy had no doubt that Bill would take full advantage of that moment. For now, Jimmy tried to focus on the problem at hand. They needed a plan, and they needed it now.

  “C’mon, you dirty piece of crap,” Pops cussed at the electric heater. He rapped once sharply on the control, and the lights in the room dimmed as the heater began to glow. “Ah, there we go,” the old man said, rising to his feet and arching his back.

  Ken and Pops stood at the small window, and both men standing with their backs to the room, staring up at what remained of the burning bunkhouse. Bill joined them, first standing next to Pops and then moving over to stand next to Ken. Bill shook his head and put his hands on his hips. He moved behind Pops and stuck his head in between the two men. “I think we need to light outta here,” he said, repeating what Pops had said moments earlier.