“She pissed me off,” Tony said glared out the windshield. “Would you rather I shot her instead?”
Rudy glared at him but Tony didn’t make eye contact. He began to twist so he could lean over the seat to check on Natalie, but before he turned enough, Tony shouted, “Eyes, forward, goddamn it. You can’t help her now. Find me new wheels.”
Rudy shook his head and turned back to the front. Except for the sound of sniffles from the floor in the backseat and the rain’s thump on the roof of the truck, there was silence.
After a few minutes, though, Rudy said, “Look.”
“Right on time.”
Jose` Osorio had driven for several minutes on his way to work at the Grand Coulee Dam. He thought about his daughter Rosa and how it seemed like only yesterday he held her in his arms for the first time. Now three years had passed. She was such a daddy’s girl and he loved every minute of it. This afternoon, he and his family had celebrated her birthday. The vision of her surprised face when his wife, Yolanda, wiped white cake icing on her nose rather than feed it to her anxious mouth would be with him for the rest of his life and he had the picture to remind himself of the moment when his mind got too feeble to do it on its own.
Ahead of him about a mile he could see another vehicle every time he came to the top of a rise in the road. As he descended, it would disappear again.
Tony made sure the pistol was tucked into the waistband of his jeans under the poorly fitting tan tweed jacket he hadn’t taken off since he left California. He stepped out of the truck and waved as the car approached.
Nancy and Steve Mulden had finished a late lunch and decided to take a drive in their Toyota RAV4. Tomorrow they would hitch it to the back of their RV and begin to head toward Imperial County on the Mexican border in Southern California—“Where the sun heads for the winter” as their slogan states. But today, even though the shifting layers of gray clouds threatened rain, they wanted to enjoy a drive in the nearby Cascade Mountains to see the last visages of the fall colors.
They had driven about ten miles from their RV when the rain got heavier. Steve switched the wipers from intermittent to full-time and turned on the headlights.
“This keeps up and we’re going to be watching the fall colors from inside here,” he said and turned toward his wife.
“We’ll just make the best of it,” she said with a smile, always ready to put a positive spin on everything. It was one of her more endearing qualities and one of the many reasons Steve felt happy to have had her in his life for the last forty-three years.
Just ahead of them a man stepped from a burgundy pickup and waved his arms like they wanted him to stop. Steve applied the brake.
“Don’t stop,” Nancy said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know but something tells me this doesn’t feel right. Just keep on going.”
“Sounds pretty heartless, poor guy out here in the rain, possibly broken down, but if you say so.” He stepped on the gas pedal again and powered past the man in the road.
Tony stood in the middle of the road while the rain pattered on his dark greasy hair, and flipped them the finger as he watched them go up the rise and out of sight.
“Go to Hell,” he shouted.
He turned back toward the open driver’s door of the Ram and saw another vehicle approach from the same direction as the RAV4. As he had just done, he waved, and the car slowed to a stop.
“Everything okay?” Jose` Osorio asked.
Tony walked across the road and stooped down to look into the window of the Subaru. It had one occupant.
“Is now,” he said in a conversational tone.
Tony pulled the gun out and pointed it at the man. “Out of the car!”
The man’s eyes fixed on the silver barrel, but without further instruction, he opened the door. As he stood, he threw his arms up in surrender.
“Please don’t shoot. I don’t want no trouble.”
“Tain’t no trouble at all,” Tony said, “Over here.”
Tony nudged the pistol into his side and forced him toward the rear of the car. As they began to walk, he waved at Rudy to move everything over to the new ride.
Rudy jumped out and opened the back door. Natalie, still on the floor, had blood around her nose and upper lip, and tear stains on her face. To get her out he had to lift her body to the seat and then he was able to slide her out the side door. He took her in his arms, carried her to the car and placed her on the back seat.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he laid her down, among the children’s toys, stale French fries and an infant seat, “really sorry about all of this.”
Tony lead Jose` around the back of the car and into the field. He prodded him in the back ever forward with the muzzle of the .357. They were about thirty feet from the road when Tony made him kneel down on the muddy ground in the midst of a growth of several dead sagebrush plants.
Tony was in his zone—the kill zone—and it fed his rage when the man, his hands still over his head, trembled so much he could barely manage to get out the words, “Please …, t … take my car. D … Don’t shoot …, I h … have little children.”
“They won’t be the first maggots to grow up without a dad,” Tony said, and placed the gun between the man’s eyes.
The pressure churned, boiled and clawed behind Tony’s eyes. All other thoughts surrendered to the energy force. It demanded an immediate explosive discharge. He watched the whites of his victim’s eyes expand as they filled with terror and, like an addiction, he was powerless to stop the slaughter that expelled. As he pulled the trigger and watched the man’s pleading eyes turn to a lifeless stare, he felt the temporary release. It wasn’t over yet, but it would satisfy for now.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
All
Rights Reserved
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