I unwrapped it, careful to point it away from me. I couldn’t find the round spinny thing for bullets, then I remembered those were the kind of guns they used in prehistoric times. That covered most of the television shows I’d watched pre-cable. I was looking for the thing at the bottom of the gun. After a lot of fumbling and, I hate to admit, a little bit of cussing, I got it open. It appeared loaded.
Now to get to Joe. I remembered the truck parked outside of my house, the one driven by the guy who broke into my house. Weston’s Garage. It seemed like a good place to start.
Weston’s Garage was an old battered warehouse out past The Trading Post, off Highway 82 and a half-mile down a country road. I’d been there once with Daddy, back when I was about thirteen. They worked on service vehicles and tractors. Uncle Earl had asked Daddy to see if they had a part for his old combine. Back then it had been a scary place, with old farm equipment scattered around the warehouse yard like mutant lawn ornaments. Given the circumstances, I supposed it would be even scarier now.
First I had to figure out how to get there. I had no keys, no car, no driver’s license and no money. This could be a problem.
I stood up and walked toward my house. I needed shoes and I could think about my transportation issue while I got them. Lucky for me, Daniel Crocker’s friends had already opened the door.
His boys could learn a thing or two about being polite houseguests. My house was torn to bits. The intruder on Thursday had been looking for something; this time they did it just to be mean. I was gonna have to pay a cleaning service again and that made me plenty mad.
I found a pair of tennis shoes and slipped them on and I ran outside, still unsure how to get to Joe. Mildred’s old Cadillac sat parked in her driveway and an idea sprang to mind. I ran across the street, Muffy following behind, and beat on her door. I was just about to give up when Opal, the elderly neighbor next door to Mildred, poked her head out .
“Mildred’s at church, honey. She’ll be back after lunch.”
“But her car’s in the driveway.”
“Her son picked her up.” Opal came out onto the porch, leaning on her metal walker with florescent green tennis balls on the feet.
I stared longingly at the 1974 white Cadillac. It was a tank. I knew Mildred kept the keys in the ignition. I had an evil idea.
“My car’s in the shop and Mildred told me I could use hers. I plum forgot she had church this mornin’ and just wanted to thank her again for lettin’ me use it. So I’ll just take off and thank her later.” I was already moving to the driver’s door.
“Are you sure?” Opal asked, sounding confused. “Mildred don’t let nobody drive her car.”
“I know! That’s the amazin’ part, huh?” I opened the door and Muffy hopped in. She’d gotten me this far; it didn't seem right to leave her out now.
Opal pointed to Muffy. “I know for a fact Mildred don’t let no animals in her car.”
I had turned the key, the engine roaring to life. “Thanks, Miss Opal. You have a good day, too!”
She shouted as I pulled away. I turned to Muffy. “I’ve shot right on past the Seven Deadly Sins and moved onto breakin’ the Ten Commandments. We’re surely goin’ to hell now.”
Muffy answered by lifting her chin and turning her head. I was sure she told me she had nothing to do with the car stealing; she was letting me take all the blame for this one.
In about ten minutes I reached the country road where Weston’s Garage was located. I passed The Trading Post, my Nova still in the parking lot. If I had my keys, I would have switched cars. I wasn’t used to driving an ocean liner between driving lanes.
I didn’t have a plan, but I was smart enough to realize I needed the element of surprise. I couldn’t just drive the Titanic up to their front door; then again, maybe I could knock the building down with it. Last time I’d seen the old metal building, it looked pretty rickety. It would probably only take two, maybe three, good rams to knock it down. But Joe was inside, and I couldn't risk it.
I parked the car about two hundred yards down the country road, after I turned the car around to face the highway. Common sense told me we needed a getaway plan. So far, this was it.
I expected to see guys with machine guns or at least shotguns outside guarding the place. But the only thing I found were the tractor parts, even rustier than the last time I saw them and more dangerous since I was old enough to recognize the tetanus risk.
I grabbed the gun out of the car. Woods surrounded the building on two sides. A giant parking lot lay between the back of the building and the woods, scattered with delivery trucks like sprinkles dropped on a cupcake. Several luxury cars sat in the lot in front of the entrance. Crocker’s business partners, I guessed.