A Country Boy Can Survive
A young man, born and raised in the mountain wilderness of NW
Arkansas, goes to work for 'Uno Bravo', a special ops contractor
for the CIA. He has a partner named 'Dog', they're sent behind
enemy lines, time and time again. He's wounded so many times,
they force him to retire after 13 years of service. He moves back
to the wilderness and so this story begins. There's plenty of
action, some sex, and a lot of violence, blood and gore.
Chapter One
The preacher man says it's the end of time
And the Mississippi River she's a goin' dry
The interest is up and the Stock Markets down
And you only get mugged If you go down town
I live back in the woods, you see
A woman and the kids, and the dogs and me
I got a shotgun a rifle and a 4-wheel drive
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
I can plow a field all day long
I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn
We make our own whiskey and our own smokes too
Ain't too many things these ole boys can't do
We grow good ole tomatoes and homemade wine
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
Because you can't starve us out
And you cant makes us run
Cause one-of- 'em old boys raisin ole shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma'am
And if you ain't into that we don't give a damn
We come from the West Virginia coal mines
And the Rocky Mountains the and the and western skies
And we can skin a buck; we can run a trot-line
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
I had a good friend in New York City
He never called me by my name, just hillbilly
My grandpa taught me how to live off the land
And his taught him to be a businessman
He used to send me pictures of the Broadway nights
And I'd send him some homemade wine
But he was killed by a man with a switchblade knife
For 43 dollars my friend lost his life
I'd love to spit some beechnut in that dudes eyes
And shoot him with my old 45
Cause a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
Cause you can't starve us out and you can't make us run
Cause one-of- 'em old boys raisin ole shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma'am
And if you ain't into that we don't give a damn
We're from North California and south Alabam
And little towns all around this land
And we can skin a buck; we can run a trot-line
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive
lyrics by Hank Williams Jr.
Stephen Everett Randall was a loner; he was forced into
retirement by the company he'd given 13 years, and almost his
life to, numerous times. After he'd been shot three times and
recovered, he was almost killed in a roadside bomb blast. Now
they were afraid he'd not be able to perform at such a high level
in the future.
He had a lot of years in with the lesser known, almost secretive,
CIA military contractor, Uno Bravo, and now they'd told him he
was high risk because of his injuries. He'd recovered fully as
far as he was concerned, he could still take on anyone in camp
and put them down.
Even at 35 years old, 6' 6' and 250 lbs he was lean and he was
mean, he had been trained to kill, not trained to fight; he had
killed many men and a lot of women too in his employment with Uno
Bravo.
They paid him a good buy-out and a retirement pension and he went
away, which is what they wanted in the first place. To get the
walk-off bonus money, he had to sign an agreement that he
wouldn't hire out to another country or organization for ten
years. He was 35 at the time, so they knew he'd not be much of a
threat in 10 years.
He was lost and bitter, when he first got out, he didn't know how
to be a normal civilian, he'd never been married, never had any
kids and his family was all gone now. It was just him.
He was born in Jasper, Arkansas on the Buffalo River; right in
the middle of the Ozark National forest, that covers 1.2 million
acres in the northwest Arkansas wilderness that covers parts of,
if not all of, sixteen counties. He'd grown up hunting and
fishing in the wilderness, he was good at it and took his
knowledge of the wilderness serious. Which made it easy after he
graduated from the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, to get
hired by the almost unknown special ops forces, Uno Bravo. Even
though he'd never had any military training, not even ROTC, they
knew they had a winner when they saw him handle a gun, a knife,
and a compound bow as well as a crossbow. He was sent directly to
Uno Bravo for basic training to become the best there was at
recon and killing. He always came back with a finger and a scalp
of the one he was sent to kill, for DNA proof, no matter who, no
matter where.
Steve was a skilled marksman with any weapon he picked up and
could move through the night faster and quieter than a shadow.
As a teenager, he'd shot up 6 inches in height, he was tall and
skinny until his senior year, then he added over fifty pounds in
less than 12 months.
He was gaining weight so fast, his basketball coach put him on a
high level, training regimen in the gym, from the end of his
junior year until his graduation from high school the next
spring.
He wasn't involved in organized sports at U of A, but he was
hooked on training and kept at it all through his 3 1/2 years
there as well as at home in summer.
Here he was, back in Arkansas now, 36 years old and dumped back
on the streets; he felt empty, abandoned, useless and alone.
They did ship Dog to him, they'd been together six years; he and
Dog. They had trained together, slept together, and eaten
together for over a year, bonding into one, before being deployed
to that hell hole on earth, called Baghdad.
They were together for one reason, they were a killing team. A
deadly team destined to be sent to the deadliest place on earth.
Steve had been shipped out to Iraq, right after September 11,
2001, with no record of his whereabouts. He and Dog were sent on
missions where the chance of survival, at best, was rated zero.
Missions the military brass would never consider sending American
Special OPS into. These missions were turned over to the CIA and
they contracted Uno Bravo. Uno Bravo sent Stephen Everett Randall
and Dog.
But they always came back, they'd even walked through the streets
of hell together a few times, but they both survived. He and Dog
were sent into the towns and villages ahead of the elite forces,
securing their positions and providing re-con information first
for the snipers and then the Special Forces.
When they'd kicked him out last year, they couldn't do a thing
with Dog, he wouldn't even eat. They located Steve and notified
him that the Dog was on the way, with arrival time and terminal
at Little Rock National Airport.
He hadn't seen Dog in nearly a year; he missed him, Dog had been
his shadow, his right hand, never making a sound, but always
there. Steve thought at times Dog could actually understand him
and could think just like him, knowing what they were going to do
as soon as he, himself did.
They'd shipped him in a wire cage shipping crate and when Steve
opened the door on the cage, Dog licked his hand and they walked
from the dock to his pickup, neither one uttering a sound;
leaving the wire cage on the dock. When Steve opened the truck
door, Dog got right in; he was home now, he was happy. He lay his
head on Steve's thigh all the way back over to the little
unincorporated community known as Strawberry, in Johnson County,
north of Clarksville, Arkansas on I-40, west of Little Rock.
Steve had wanted to buy a place back up closer to Jasper, but
found a place he liked in northern Johnson County instead. He had
a small cabin with 175 acres, plenty of big Oak and Hickory trees
and full of game, bordering the southern edge of the Ozark
National Forest.
When he opened the truck door after returning from the airport,
Dog jumped to the ground, hiked his leg and pissed on all four
tires and every tree, rock and porch post on the place. He was
home with Steve once more, this was his territory and he marked
it against anything that walked or crawled.
He came and licked Steve's hand, then took off through the forest
in a dead run. Steve didn't see the big black cur again until
nearly dark when he came back with his belly full.
Having Dog was fun and he felt good for a while, not near as
lonely; having the big black cur at his side, wherever he went.
But even that wore off soon and he knew he needed a woman. He'd
always had a woman; no matter where he was, there was a woman.
Even in the war zone, he'd found a woman, something he'd
considered a necessity all his life.
His long time friend Julio Ramos was now bartender at a motel
lounge down near Clarksville on I-40 and he went there a few
times to visit and scout out the women.
Julio had hired a new waitress; Lilly was her name and she was
small and sexy and smiled a lot. She was eight years younger than
Steve, but she flipped over him, going home with him the first
night they met, then moving in the next day. She was fun and she
loved to fuck. The only bad thing was, she hated to live in the
sticks so far from town. She hated Steve's dog too; really hated
him. She told Steve that Dog stared at her all the time like he
was hungry.
She quit her job as a barmaid and got a job at the grocery store
as a cashier and stock girl, working day shifts now and Steve
bought her an old car to drive back and forth. They fucked all
night some nights, sometimes on the porch, sometimes in the yard,
and even in the bed when it was cold or raining. Lilly never did
like the wilderness though and griped all the time about it.
She was off on Wednesdays, this was house cleaning day. She
cleaned the house naked this Wednesday, stopping her mopping and
sweeping and dusting and cleaning long enough to bring Steve a
cold beer and either sit on his ever hard cock or suck it. Then
she was right back to her cleaning. They had bought groceries the
day before and filled the pantry, the big chest freezer and
refrigerator with everything she could think of. Steve actually
thought maybe she was starting to accept living here, she sure
had changed all of a sudden.
When she had the house clean and clean sheets on the bed, she
grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him to the bedroom, closing the
door so Dog wouldn't come in. She sucked and fucked him all
night, stopping long enough to ask him for the hundredth time
about moving closer to town, he put her off and kissed her
titties and kissed her pussy just the way she liked him to, and
she hushed about moving.
She fucked him twice before leaving for work on Thursday, then
left crying. Steve had never figured her out and wasn't about to
try and figure her out this time either.
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Jerry Larson hated the days it was raining from the time he drove
to work at 5:30 a.m. and was still raining and blowing just as
hard at 1:00 p.m.
Fridays were always his biggest day too; he still had over 35
parcels left to deliver and a lot of those were rural. This was
going to be another late day and Becky was going to be madder
than hell, but she'd just have to get over it.
He looked at his manifest once again and saw that his longest run
out in the country was on County Road 37011; this was the one
getting the 10 big boxes. That would really speed his deliveries
up and may even bring him back close to his average time.
That address didn't ring true to Jerry and he stopped to look at
his detailed 911 map. Hell, there's County Road 3701, I bet
that's the one; shit, looks like they could at least get the
address right, we're always having to chase down these out of the
way residences.
It had been 15 minutes since his last stop and Jerry knew he was
losing valuable time; he turned off State Highway 123 onto
Johnson County road 3890 west of Hagarville and started looking
through the blinding rain for his road. There it is; County Road
3701, if there is a 37011, it had to be a driveway off County
Road 3701. He turned onto the narrow gravel road, the wind
whipping the rain against his windshield on the brown delivery
van, as he roared north, then curved back east.
Leaves and small limbs were blowing across the one lane gravel
road so hard the wipers couldn't keep up, big green Oak leaves
were sticking flat to his windshield and the wipers weren't even
raking them off.
He drove by a narrow driveway on the right; slamming on his
brakes, he slid sideways in the wet gravel road. When he had
gotten straightened out, he backed up to look at the road sign.
It had been shot more than one time over the years, but he saw
the last two digits, '11' in white numbers, on the right side of
the crumpled up green sign, barely hanging from the bent
signpost.
He saw the mail box and the name Ste++n Ra+dall on it, with
bullet holes scattered all over. It had been shot with buckshot
until it looked like a rusted out bird nest hanging on the post.
The 'KEEP OUT' sign was the only thing legible at the drive way
entrance.
This is it; he turned his wheels hard to the right and gunned the
van through the low, heavy, wet limbs under the trees in the
narrow drive until he came to a clearing with a small cabin.
There was a 4x4 pickup in the yard, so he knew someone must be
home, he hoped so anyway; this big drop required a signature; 10
boxes at 66 pounds each. Whatever it was, he would be glad to get
them off and get back down to civilization and finish his
deliveries.
Steven E. Randall 2010 County Road 37011 Strawberry, AR. @#@839
Jerry saw where the 10 big boxes had been first been shipped to
Strawberry, Arkansas 72469 over in Lawrence County; then
re-routed back through Little Rock to Clarksville and on here to
the scattered little unincorporated community of Strawberry, here
in Johnson County. He sure hoped this was right, or he'd have to
haul them back and fill out a report.
He looked at the registry and the first part of this zip was
blurred; the damned electronic delivery register had moisture in
it; hell the whole damned address is blurred, I'll have to scan
each damned box now; the fucking rain was close to flash flood
levels with gale force winds as he pulled in.
Just my fucking luck.
Jerry sounded his horn as he turned his van around, in the narrow
drive in an effort to back as close as he could to the porch on
the house.
He jumped out, jerking the sliding door forward on the drivers'
side and ran to the back of the delivery van, hoping it had
closed as he ran to the back. Damn, his van was right up against
the low tin roof, water was pouring down off the roof against the
vans back doors now.
"Fuck it," Jerry said aloud as he banged on the wooden door, his
brown shirt and knee length shorts already soaked.
"Hell, its open, come on in," someone yelled from inside.
"UPS delivery," Jerry yelled back, over the roar of the rain
hitting the tin roof on the porch, the wind still howling through
the trees like a hurricane.
"Bring it on in, shit, don't stand out there in the rain," the
voice yelled.
Jerry had to laugh, shit this was just too much. He opened the
door and saw a man, maybe in his mid thirties, dressed in camo
fatigues, sitting in a chair drinking a beer. There was a
mean-ass looking black dog lying at his feet, looking at Jerry
like he was hungry.
"Got 10 boxes for you, where do you want them?"
"Well hell, I reckon I want them in here out of all this fucking
rain, you need some help?"
"Well, there's 10 and they weigh 66 pounds each, the papers say,
or at least that was what was on them before my papers got all
wet, hell I can hardly read any of the labels."
"That fucking Lilly, I'm going to skin her ass, what in the hell
has she ordered this damn time?" Steve asked no one in
particular, thinking maybe this was the reason she'd been so
domestic the day and night before, she'd spent some more of his
money on foolishness.
"I have no idea who Lilly is; you are Steven Randall, right?"
"Hell yeah, who did you think I was, after you drove all this way
out here with 10 boxes weighing 66 pounds each?"
"Well, I guess you got me there, here sign this; I'll start
putting them on the porch, if you'll put them inside; they won't
get near as wet."
Stephen Randall stood up and stretched, then walked over to the
door and took the electronic delivery register and signed his
name, all Jerry could make out was a big 'S' and an 'R', the rest
of his signature was just a scribble.
The driver took the first box off the van and turned to set it
down, he looked up at the man; damn, he sure looks like someone
named Steve Randall, that would live at the end of a dead end
road, on the edge of the Ozark National Forrest. The man was
close to 6 foot, 6 inches tall and weighed at least 250 pounds.
He was wearing camo fatigues and a camo tee shirt, he was
barefoot and his feet looked over a foot long too. His hair was
all over his head, and down on his shoulders, he had a three day
beard, at least; but the cabin was as clean as he and Becky's own
home down in Clarkesville.
Jerry grabbed another box and each time he stepped out of the van
with one, the tall man was there to take it like it was a box of
feathers, taking three steps and setting them down, stacking one
neatly on the other in the house, until they had them all
unloaded.
"Gotta run, have a good day," Jerry said as he ran back to his
van, the sliding door hadn't closed and the rain was blowing in;
his seat was wet, hell everything in front of the damned van was
wet. He grabbed the sliding door and jerked on it; it came
forward with a bang and he took off. He looked around for his
register, and didn't see it. When he slammed on his brakes, small
packages came flying to the front as Jerry backed up, turning his
wheels so he wouldn't run over his register. He felt the thump,
thump and then the bump.
He stepped out into the blinding rain and saw it, he'd backed
over it with the rear duals and the front tire. Picking it up he
saw the LCD display was busted, he turned it over; the back was
crushed, with sand, water and small gravel running out.
"What a damned, fucked up day."
Inside the cabin, Steve Randall looked the big wax-coated
cardboard boxes over. He started to open one, but then decided to
wait until Lilly got home from work and let her explain what the
fuck all this was about anyway. He walked out on the back porch
where the rain wasn't blowing in as hard and pissed off on the
ground.
"Dog, if you gotta piss, you better get your ass out here, I'm
not gettin up to let you out to piss about the time I get set
back down," he growled at the big black dog; the big cur walked
right past him, hiked his leg and pissed on a porch post.
They both went back inside; Steve got a beer and sat down to
listen to the weather on the radio, the cur lapped a bowl of
water up, then lay back by the chair, at Steve's feet.
That's exactly where they were when the sun came up bright and
hot the next morning. Steve looked around and didn't see Lilly,
he looked in the bedroom and she hadn't even been there. He
opened the front door and the big dog walked out on the porch;
dropped down, with his front feet out in front and stretched,
then shook his body.
Steve walked barefoot out on the wet gravel and looked all
around, the rain had stopped sometime in the night and there were
no tire tracks, except where the UPS van had driven in and out,
and even they were just about washed out now. He knew she hadn't
been here, or there would have been more tire tracks.
He stretched, his arms over his head, his back arched, then
walked back in to get a cold beer for breakfast. He sat on the
front porch for a long time, drinking his beer, wondering if he
should go look for Lilly.
Steve went back in and straight to the bathroom to take a shower
and shave, he knew he had to go find her, that piece of shit car
of hers probably quit on her somewhere and she's still sitting
there madder than a wet hen.
When he came out on the porch after putting on clean camo's, he
heard the mail man honk his horn down at the end of the long
drive; he and Dog walked down to the mail box.
There was a Kroger ad full of coupons, from Clarksville, and some
insurance company wanting him to hurry and buy insurance before
the special ran out. A credit card company wanted him to accept
the offer of a pre-approved card in his name. Fuck, they even
spelled it wrong, I spell my name with 'ph' and not a 'v'.
He'd dropped a small letter and bent to pick it up. It was mailed
to him from Clarkesville, and had handwritten addresses. Wonder
who in the hell knows me down in Clarkesville, Arkansas?
He ripped it open and saw real quick who wrote it. That fucking
Lilly.
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---------------
Stephen, I've decided to leave you. I can't stand living out in
the fucking wilderness any more. You told me we'd be living
closer to town before spring and we're not. I'm going to Ohio to
live with my brother and his wife. I hope you find a girl that
will love you and like living in the fucking sticks, with you and
that fucking mean-ass Dog. He never did like me anyway and was
always staring at me like he was hungry. I quit my job at the
grocery store and took a hundred dollars from the bank to buy gas
with.
I love you Stephen, but I guess I just don't love you enough.
Lilly
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---------------
"Well, I'll be damned. You fucking mangy-ass cur, you run Lilly
off. I hope you're fucking happy; now it's just me and you and
you don't look near as good as Lilly did laying in my bed," Steve
scolded the big black cur. Dog just looked up at him, hiked his
leg and pissed on the front porch post, then walked inside and
lay down by Steve's chair.
He went back in and got another beer from the fridge and opened
it; walking by the stack of boxes on his way back out to the
porch, he looked down and kicked one with his bare foot, damn
near jamming his big toe.
"What in the fuck is in them damned boxes anyway?" he growled and
Dog looked over at him, then watched as he took his long hunting
knife from the scabbard hanging on the wall. He cut the shipping
tape from the top of a box and saw it was full of Nabisco Saltine
Crackers.
"Ain't no fucking way a case of damned crackers weighs 66 pounds
and what in the fuck did Lilly want with 10 cases of fucking
crackers anyway?" he cussed and fussed, his big toe still
hurting, as he stepped back with it raised in the air, to keep it
from touching the floor.
He cut into two more of the big cardboard boxes and saw the same
thing, saltine crackers.
"Well Dog, I sure as hell hope you like fucking saltine crackers,
we'll be eating them for a while looks like; hell, I'll boil up a
big pot of deer chili. That'll last a week or two, since you run
our fucking cook off, and my pussy to boot," he cussed and Dog
just looked at him.
Steve took a box of crackers out of the big cardboard box and it
was heavy, he guessed close to 5 or 6 pounds.
"No way in hell does a box of crackers weigh 5 pounds," he said
as he slid his knife point under the tape on the end of the
cracker box and ripped it outward. He saw something fly off the
blade of his knife and looked under the couch where it had
fluttered.
"Damn, that looked like a dollar bill."
He bent down and looked under the edge of the couch. Steve jumped
back and looked at Dog; Dog saw him jerk back and looked over at
him. They looked at each other and when Steve let out a loud
whoop, Dog got up and walked slowly out to the porch.
Steve reached under the couch and picked up the hundred dollar
bill; it was nearly cut in half. He looked at it good and turned
it over. His first thought was counterfeit. He grabbed his
flashlight and held it under the bill. He saw the watermarks in
the paper. This wasn't a new, freshly printed bill, it had been
in circulation, but it wasn't the older bill, that had Ben's
picture in the center either.
"Shit, I wonder if all 10 of these fucking boxes are full of one
hundred dollar bills; where in the hell did they came from?"
Steve said aloud; Dog came over to stand on the porch, looking in
the door at Steve, as he talked to himself.
He pulled another cracker box out and opened it completely. It
was packed full of one hundred dollar bills. They were in tightly
wrapped bundles; he unwrapped one bundle and counted the bills,
there were 100 bills in the bundle.
"FUCK."
Steve counted the bundles in the opened box, there was $10,000 in
each bundle and 25 bundles in each cracker box.
"FUCK, that's $250,000 per cracker box," he said, holding the
cracker box up to the outside of the big cardboard box, using it
to measure down the side. He figured there were 12 cracker boxes
in each cardboard box.
Steve got a pencil and went to figuring. He figured it three
times.
"Holy Shit, there's three million in each big box and there's 10
of them."
"FUUUuu-uuUUUCK; thirty million?"
He walked to the front door, "Get your mangy ass in here Dog," he
fussed, and closed the door as the big dog walked slowly over to
the chair and lay on the floor.
"Somebody's going to be looking for this money, this isn't bank
money either. They don't put their money in cracker boxes and
send it out on UPS."
He looked at the shipping label good, some dumb fuck had shipped
this from the same address they sent it to. He looked at the UPS
shipping label, it says it was picked up in Strawberry, AR. then
traveled four days and arrived back in Strawberry, AR. "Yeah
right, bunch of shit too. Strawberry is over in Lawrence County,
this is just a community called Strawberry. There's not even a
post office here."
He tore a half-way good label off a box and stuffed it in his
pocket. He slipped his shoes on, not even lacing them and picked
up his cell phone; he got his 9MM Berretta and slipped in the
pocket on his right leg.
"Dog, you stay here and guard this money, if we find out this is
real money and not monopoly money, you and I'll go find us some
fresh pussy. Hell yeah, we'll find you some too," he laughed as
the big cur dog jumped up on his leg and licked his hand.
He threw a bedspread over the boxes of money, put the $100 bill
he had cut and one more in his pocket and walked out to his
truck.
"What I need is one of those pens that marks yellow on these
bills, I've seen Lilly use them at the cashier's station in the
grocery store. Hell, I'll just go get one."
In his mind, he sorted it all out, and came to a conclusion. If
this was real money, and someone made a mistake in shipping some
stolen money, he may just as well lay claim to it as the next
man; or even the fucking government, they'll confiscate it and
it'll never be seen again.
Stephen drove down to Strawberry Loop and on down to Minnow Creek
Cemetery, then took highway 123 down to Clarksville. He stopped
at a convenience store and bought a Coke and got an 'I Wanna'
shopper; when he went to pay, he looked down and saw a marker pen
like he wanted by the cash register.
"Give me a small box of them Roi-Tan Cheroots you got over there
too," Steve said, and as soon as the girl turned, he raked the
marker over to the edge under his shopper paper, stuffing it into
the big pocket on his camo's, making sure he wasn't on video. He
paid for his purchases and went back to his old Chevy truck
smiling.
As soon as he got in, he lit a cheroot and pulled his marker out,
along with the $100 bill that wasn't cut. He marked it, then took
the other one out and marked it too, they both passed, leaving a
faded yellow line across the bill.
Steve drove on over to his favorite place to buy beer and cigars,
and went in; he took two Coors Light Cooler Packs, with 36 cans
each, over to the register and set them on the counter.
"Roy, let me borrow your Scotch tape, I got a bill here that's
been cut almost in half," he said as he reached for the roll of
tape and taped both sides; wrinkling the tape but smoothing it
the best he could. He handed the bill to Roy and the first thing
he did was grab his yellow marker and rake the point across the
bill. He looked at the wrinkled up tape and shook his head at
Steve, before giving him his change.
"Roy I forgot, give me a big box of those Roi-Tan cheroots you
got over there," Steve said.
"A box of 50?"
"Yeah, I'm trying to quit, but they taste too good."
"That'll be $111.16"
"Damn, all I got on me is another big bill," Steve said and laid
the other $100 bill on the counter. "Just take it out of that, I
need some change anyway."
Roy struck a mark across the bill with the pen, then handed him
his change of $88.84 and put the box of 50 cigars in a plastic
bag for him.
"See ya in a few days Steve, looks like you got enough beer and
smokes for at least a week," Roy laughed as Steve turned, ready
to walk out.
"Yeah, the way it's been raining lately, I got to stock up when I
drive all the way to town," Steve laughed, stacking the two big
cases of beer and picking them up under one arm.
"Damn, we sure got a good one this last time, rained for two days
and nights, I see where some roads back up north in the county
close to you, are flooded and the bridges are out," Roy told him.
"Hell, I never heard that, but I don't have TV up where I live,
only the radio and I keep it turned off most of the time."
"See ya next time," Roy said, as Steve went out the door smiling.
"Well, now that I know it's not monopoly money, what in the hell
will I do with all that shittin' money I got stacked up out there
at the house?" he said aloud.
Johnson County is a 'semi-dry' county in Arkansas and there were
only a few private clubs where you had to be a member to get in
and buy liquor by the drink. Steve was a member in the two
closest to Clarksville, he had met Lilly at one of them and she
had moved in with him the next day. They had been together nine
months and Steve thought she was happy, living for free with him,
she still worked and got to keep all her money. She just didn't
like living out in the country, she had always been a city girl.
Steve felt like company and a stiff drink before heading back up
to the north part of the county. He was going to miss that skinny
little girl with the hot ass and hot pussy. She may have bitched
a lot, but she sure loved to fuck.
He pulled into the parking lot of the BestWay Motel and Lounge at
the edge of the city limits. He'd always parked around on the
side, away from busy eyes on the front lot.
He knew Julio would be working this week's shift, from 3:00 in
the afternoon until 1:00 a.m. when they closed. He and Julio go
way back and spend a lot of time reminiscing when they get
together, either here at the bar or up at Steve's cabin, hunting.
Julio hadn't been up in a while because Lilly never liked him,
even when she worked for him. She said he was always ogling her
ass.
Fuck, when you look like Lilly, all the men ogle your ass, she'd
be pissed if they didn't!
"Hey Julio, I need a tall one, amigo," Steve said as he walked in
the door. He always walked right by the resister, one of the few
who come here that Julio doesn't make sign his book; a rule set
up by the Arkansas Alcohol and Beverage Control Board, where
private clubs had to have a paid membership and signed register
to operate.
"Hey Stephen, how are you amigo, where is little Lilly with the
cute ass?" Julio laughed as he poured Steve a tall glass of CC
and Coke.
"She sent me a letter saying she was headed to Ohio, said she was
tired of living in the sticks, and even said old Dog stared at
her," he laughed and Julio guffawed at the way Steve told it.
"Shit man she was just a city girl anyway, and she was down on
her luck when you hooked up with her, there's more pussy coming
here now than ever before anyway, with the two new factories
opening up that make men's jeans and women's dresses."
"No shit, they're open already, huh? You told me last time I was
in, they were about to open up and a lot of women had been in
already, staying here at the motel and attending meetings."
"Yeah, they opened first of the month, I already got to know a
few by their names, and they always holler at Julio when they
come in to have a drink or eat in the restaurant."
"Well, I'm not ready to hook up with one yet, but I sure would
like to shag a nice piece of ass."
"Well, we get a few young ones in here, college age and a little
older, that look like a fine piece of ass; but most of what comes
in early are in middle management and married. Man there's three
of them, that would curl your toes up to your knees though."
"I'd like to curl their toes too, Julio," Steve said and they
laughed.
"Hey man, you ever hear anymore about that new contract Bravo was
talking about?"
"No, did you?"
"I got an email from Joe, that they were still working on it and
may need some of the old guys to come back," Julio said.
"Shit man, we're not old, we're in our prime. I might have to
train a little to get to back to playing weight, but I think I
could still go a round or two with the younger guys, hell they
don't train like we had to."
"You got that shit right, these drill specialists now are pussies
compared to the ones we had; like old Harmon, remember him, man
he was tough as a momma lion on our ass," Julio laughed.
"Damn right I remember him, hell he made me and JR get up in the
middle of the night and run five miles just to deliver a note to
command, then laughed when we got back."
"Shit man, I remember that, he laughed about that for weeks, said
you and JR thought you were on a mission," Julio laughed and
Steve did too.
"You ever hear from Roberto again after he said he was moving up
here to Arkansas?"
"Yeah, he lives over near Mt. View now, he said; I get email from
him all the time, shit man you need to get a computer and get
online, you just sit up there and drink beer and don't even keep
up with the world anymore."
"Hell Julio, I'm lucky to have electricity up there, we don't
have internet available way up there. I do get a signal with my
cell phone if I'm outside, no land lines there though."
"Get you one of those satellite dishes and get online that way,
fuck man, you can afford it with what they pay you on
retirement."
"I'm sticking that back for my old age, but I may just give them
a call, if you see that number again, call me and give it to me."
"I'll look it up online and call you, I bet they have an
independent installer here close by too, shit this whole fucking
country is backwoods when it comes to getting online."
"You got that right; hey man, I'm going to head back up the hill
a ways, good to see you again Amigo," Steve said and got up to
leave.
"Shit Steve, sit a spell brother, let me order you something from
the dining room and eat here in the bar, save you from cooking
when you get home."
"Julio, you just talked me into that one, tell'em to fix me a big
cheeseburger and fries, make that two."
"Man you'll be here a while eating two, they make them on a
fucking platter as big as a hubcap."
"I'll take one back to Dog, he'll think I like him when he gets
that," Steve laughed.
"I'm thirsty, pour me another one, Julio," Steve said, when Julio
got off the phone to the kitchen, he poured him a tall stout one.
"I still can't believe they let you bring Dog home with you, shit
not many men get their dog when they go out."
"Well, they boxed his ass up and shipped him to me, they couldn't
do a damned thing with him and didn't have the heart to put him
down; after all, he and I went through hell together over there."
"Damn man, I know. I read three of the reports on you and him
when you were laid up that last time, fuck man it sounded like a
fiction novel."
"Hell you were over there for a while, Julio, you saw what went
on. Shit, we were told not to leave witnesses and cover our asses
every time we went out on a mission. The last time JR and I went
out, we both got busted up bad, last I heard JR was still walking
with a cane."
"Yeah, he finally lost that foot, but got one of those spring
board looking prosthetics and runs every day now."
"I'm glad to hear that, I guess I do need to get online and keep
up with you guys."
"Hell yeah you do, when you come back to town, go buy one of
those good laptops and bring it in, we have wi-fi here and I'll
help you set it up like our old ones we carried when we were with
Bravo," Julio said.
"You got a deal; who's this coming here Julio, now that looks
like prime stuff there," Steve said as he watched the tall, dark
headed woman walk in with another, tall, slender, younger girl
behind her that had red hair down to her butt and tits out to her
elbows. They stopped and signed the book and looked at Julio and
waved.
"Shit man, that's two of the middle management ladies I was
talking about, it's about to get full in here, I hope they attack
your hillbilly ass and make you stay a week," Julio laughed as he
walked down the bar to where the two women sat down.
"Hey Janelle, Crystal, what will it be?" Julio asked as they
smiled at him.
Steve looked at them in the bar mirror as they talked to Julio
and ordered a drink. Damn, they ordered a Coors Light. Hell they
can't be too uppity in management if they drink beer. I bet the
redhead is a country girl, I can tell by her freckles on her nose
and her long legs. Got a nice ass to go along with those big tits
too.
Steve saw both of them look at him in the mirror, then look at
each other. He turned to look up at the TV screen with the news
channel on and the volume down, barely legible. He could hear it
though, as well as the women talking. Out of the corner of his
eye, he saw the redhead turn and look back in the mirror and
stare for a long time.
Turn back around, redheaded girl, you look good, but you live in
the city now and I'm not moving, Steve laughed at himself. Here
he was used to sleeping naked with a beautiful young woman every
night; she was gone now and he knew he'd be coming back to town
more, now that she was gone.
"Julio, is he a friend of yours? I bet he was in the service, he
still wears the camo fatigues," Steve heard the redhead.
"He was over there, but not in the military. He was in Iraq
before we ever went in with the troops, he was there when the CIA
and the Special Forces went, hell he gave them re-con info on how
to stay alive. He was shot up pretty bad, then he was with an
outfit as a hired body guard after that, among other things; he
rode shotgun for the high brass that came in for unannounced
visits too."
"Tough guy huh?" she laughed and her friend did too as they
looked down the bar this time, not in the mirror.
"Crystal, you need to turn around and don't even look at my
brother down there, you wouldn't last a week with him. I'm not
sure any woman could," Julio told them.
"Why, is he a woman hater or did he lose a woman or something?"
Crystal asked, her curiosity was up now and Julio knew it. Tell a
woman she can't and she'll start trying to figure out a way she
can.
"No, nothing like that, he's got too many skeletons in his
closet, too many demons haunting him and they still watch him
like a hawk, afraid he'll contract with some other country."
"Wow, he IS a tough guy then," Janelle said.
"Yeah, like I said, don't even go there," Julio said and walked
back down to pour Steve another drink, grinning.
"You set me up Julio, go get my sandwich, I need to go," Steve
grinned at his friend.
"You'll be back Steve, this is where the women hang out, big
time; you like pussy too much to stay away. Besides, this is
Saturday; they're not working, and you got an empty bed," Julio
smiled and went through a service door behind the bar.
He came right back with a platter full of fries and an open faced
cheeseburger, with a side plate loaded with trimmings and
condiments; he was right, it was as big as a hubcap. The second
order was in a Styrofoam carry out, with a fold over cover.
"Hi, may I sit here?" the redhead asked as she sat down.
Steve looked at her in the bar mirror; she looked up at his
reflection and smiled.
"Sure, I'm not expecting anyone," he answered.
"Will you talk if I sit here?" she smiled again at the mirror,
when he looked up, still not looking directly at her next to him.
"Sure, what do you want to talk about?"
"Your sandwich," she laughed and he turned to look at her face as
she sat on the stool.
She was younger than he first thought, maybe 24 or 25. Her
freckles bridged her nose, with a few scattered high on her
cheeks, but that was it. She was pretty and she knew it, not in
an arrogant way, she was just confident in her looks.
"Its way too big, I'll share with you," he said as he looked
directly into her eyes, not smiling, her eyes less than two feet
from his.
"Uh, I didn't mean to sound like I was begging," she said as he
stared into her eyes.
"I wasn't offering because you sounded like you were begging
either, I have too much to eat, I'll share," he said and smiled
for the first time. She liked his smile.
He took a knife and cut a third of the huge burger and slid it
over on the condiment plate, then raked a pile of fries on it
before sliding it over in front of her. Julio came in with a
bottle of catsup and placed it between them.
"MMmm, this is good, thanks, uh what was your name? I'm Crystal,
by the way."
"Steve; nice to meet you Crystal," he gave in and smiled again as
she dipped a french fry in ketchup and dropped a glob of it on
her knee where she sat, legs crossed on the bar stool, her knee
length skirt over her knee.
He took a french fry and dipped it in the drop of ketchup on her
knee and ate his potato, she looked at him and laughed as she
also dipped her potato in it too and mopped it all up. She took a
bar napkin then and wiped her knee.
"Now that was funny, you sure are different," she said as they
ate.
"From what?"
"Well, from anyone I've ever met,"
"You mean met in a bar or ever met?"
"I don't meet men in bars, regardless of the fact I'm sitting
here eating part of your sandwich," she laughed as she tried to
defend herself.
"You're a country girl aren't you?"
"How did you know that, no one has ever asked me that question,
how could you tell?"
"Just the way you came over, not trying to pick me up, just
curious and friendly, and the way you let me give you some of my
sandwich. Let me guess, Tennessee?"
"You're good, now let me guess. You're originally from somewhere
east, maybe South or North Carolina?"
"Nope, not even close."
"You're not from up north, you sound southern are you from here
originally?"
"Yeah, not too far from here."
"Really, where?"
"Jasper."
"I've been there, some friends invited me to go one weekend and
we went hiking on this mountain. We came out on a high bluff
overlooking Jasper and it was absolutely breathtaking, looking
down at the small town and the Buffalo River. Do you hunt, I see
you wear camo?" she asked, enjoying her conversation and
sandwich.
"I hunt for food, not for trophies," he said as he put his last
french fry in his mouth.
"There's a lot of rugged country up there, all over the Ozark
National Forrest really, do you live up that way, that's really
back in the sticks isn't it? I loved it back home over in eastern
Tennessee, the country there around Jasper reminds me of back
home a lot."
"I guess you could say it's back in the sticks, but I like it. I
really don't care for a lot of people around me and it suits me
fine," he smiled as he looked at her face, she was turned almost
facing him now, on her stool; her knee not an inch from his as he
sat with his foot propped on the foot rail below. His long legs
seemed too long to sit at a bar comfortable; even on a tall
stool.
"I didn't mean it to sound like 'back in the sticks' was a bad
place. I grew back in the sticks and I loved it. I was the oldest
and I was taller than my three brothers. I was a tomboy and I was
the one that got them into so much trouble, not only with mom and
dad, but with their girlfriends when we were teenagers. We'd
float downriver on logs we'd tied together and I'd talk their
girlfriends into taking their underwear off so they wouldn't get
them wet. I really think after the first time, they caught on and
did it because they liked the way my brothers looked at them,"
she grinned as she told this.
"You didn't have boyfriends back then?"
"No, I was so tall and skinny, and the boys were all afraid of
me, I could run faster, hit a ball farther and spit farther than
any of them. I could whistle louder too and that really pissed
them off."
"You're not skinny now, what happened," he grinned at the look on
her face when he said that.
"Puberty hit me like a boulder falling from a cliff, I mean it
seemed that overnight I had these big boobs and a butt you could
set a plate and eat on. I was so mad, I went to my P.E. coach and
she told me to exercise and never stop exercising. To this day I
still run and workout every day, I'm not happy with what I have,
but its way better than the hand I was dealt as a teenager," she
said and looked at his smile.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked, frowning, not sure of what
he was thinking as she told something that was personal and
private with her.
"I like the way you look, you've done a remarkable job, you're
tall, you have red hair and freckles, you're a country girl, and
you like to exercise and stay healthy."
"Hey thanks Steve, I thought you were about to say something
about my butt and my big boobs," she laughed.
"I did, you just didn't hear it, how tall are you anyway?"
"5' 11", in my socks."
"How much do you weigh?"
"That's not a fair question, how much do you weigh?"
"245."
"145 here and you better not say a word either," she laughed.
"You're 5 foot 11, weigh 145, you're a red headed country girl,
and you like to run, a lot of really good qualities. As tall as
you are, you carry 145 easy, it looks good on you."
"Thanks, how tall are you?"
"6 foot 6,"
"Damn."
"That's what I said when you came in."
"You're a very interesting man, I bet you live in a cabin back
off the road, trees all around, have a dog and drive a 4x4 pickup
too don't you?"
"Yep, guilty all the way around, and I need to get back there
too, I left the dog in charge," he smiled.
"My daddy had a dog like that, he could tell him to watch the
place when we left and that dog would be right on the porch when
we got back," she laughed.
"My dog's the same way,"
"What's his name?"
"Dog, on the good days, whatever I can think of on the others."
"You just call him Dog?"
"Yeah, he kind of likes it I think. Look Crystal, I had fun
talking, I really need to go. Maybe I'll see you back here one
day."
"Do you come down often?"
"No."
"Can I have your number?"
"Why."
"Because I want it and I like you."
"I guess that's good enough," he smiled and gave her his number,
she pulled her cell phone out and entered the number.
"Julio, I'll be back one day soon amigo and you can help me get a
laptop and get online out there, see you man."
"See you Steve," Julio waved.
"You didn't ask for my number." Crystal said when he stood up.
"I figured if you wanted me to know it, you'd call me and I'd
store it."
"I may not call."
"Then I may see you here again sometime," Steve said and walked
out with a wave to Julio.
"Julio, what's with Steve, we were talking, then all of a sudden
he said he had to go, I asked for his number and he gave it to
me, then didn't ask for mine, he told me that if I called, he'd
get it then."
"That's Steve, he wants to be sure you know what you're doing, he
don't play games."
"I think I like him, but he sure is reserved."
"He always will be too, as far as I know anyway, but I bet a good
woman could get him to loosen up."
"Should I call?"
"If you want to know him, call him, he's a good man Crystal. I'm
not sure you can be happy with him though, he doesn't like bright
lights and loud music and crowds," Julio told her, she was
already dialing his number when he stopped talking.
"Hello Crystal," he answered.
"Hi Steve, how did you know it was me?"
"I didn't recognize the number and I don't give mine out to many
people."
"I want to see you again."
"I wouldn't mind, got any suggestions?"
"Tomorrow's Sunday, can I drive up to your place?"
"Are you sure you want to do that, you may like it so much, you
won't want to leave."
"Then I'll have to make that decision when I get there won't I?"
"I guess you will, but you've been warned."
"Will I be welcome, or tolerated?"
"I would have said no, if you weren't welcome."
"What time do you get up?"
"Early."
"God, you're a hard man to get to know."
"Let that be another warning to you."
"You don't scare me Mr. Tough Guy, just let me be an equal and
accept me as a friend, will you do that?"
"I'll see you early in the morning."
"I'll be there."
"I'll have breakfast ready."
"You don't know what time I'll get there."
"Don't be late or yours will be cold," he said and gave her
instructions on how to get there.
"Bye Steve."
"Bye."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
The town of Strawberry, in Gila County, Arizona was 1150 miles to
the west of the unincorporated community of Strawberry, in
Johnson County, Arkansas.
Steven Earl Randall was worried. He couldn't figure out how he
had screwed up the shipment of the ten boxes to his rented
trailer, from the food distribution warehouse where he had worked
up until a week ago when he quit, thinking he'd never have to
work again.
He had called the UPS distribution center in both Phoenix and
Flagstaff and they had no record of his shipment.
He had taken some of the pre-printed labels from the warehouse
and changed the address to show he had shipped them from his
street address at the trailer, to be 'delivered' to the same
street address of his trailer. Knowing his plan would work and
he'd be one rich son of a bitch.
The packages had been picked up by the UPS truck at the warehouse
and the driver had scanned them; Steve saw him do it, he knew
they left there. He wondered if the driver happened to drop one
of the big boxes and it opened. He'd find that driver and kill
him if he didn't find his boxes soon.
He went to his dirty laundry pile and took his pants out, he
rummaged through his jeans, but found nothing, he knew he had two
shipping labels left over and if he could find them, he would
hopefully know what he had done to fuck up, after all he'd been
through to get his hands on that money.
The thought hit him like a hammer on the head and he ran out to
his old pickup. He jerked his work coveralls out and found one of
the extra labels in the back pocket.
Here it is, Steven Randall 2010 County Road 37011 Strawberry, AR.
85839 Hell, it's just like I thought it was, 85839 is Strawberry,
Arizona's zip. I messed up on writing the zip, but hell I can
make it out, they should have. Damn, that's it, the scanner
didn't scan my writing.
I'm going down to the UPS parking lot; I'm going to find that
driver and follow him home. That's my fucking money, I'm the one
that sneaked it out of the warehouse where they launder money
from Vegas. They can't report it to the police, that's for sure.
There was a wasp nest over the security camera; that was what got
me to thinking in the first place. No one ever looks at shit
there, they think it's so safe because they got that fence and
guard station.
I can't fucking believe I had my hands on all that money and now
it's gone, gone and who knows where the fuck it is. The UPS
driver, is who knows.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
"Joe, you got that sumbitch in your sights, what's he doing now?"
The short fat man in the black suit asked his partner, they were
on a hill, watching that dumb bastard, Steven Randall, both
sweating like hell and wanting to be back in the air conditioned
vehicle.
"Yeah Jack, he's got a rifle in his hand and he's getting in that
ragged old truck, I don't see anything big enough for that much
money though, he must be going to get it." Joe answered.
"Then let's get in the fucking SUV, I'm burning up out here."
"He's heading out on the highway now, we'll take care of him, if
he's not going after the money, we know it'll be there at that
rat hole trailer."
"Yeah, let's go before we lose him." Jack said.
"Where's that crazy fucker going, he's turning into the UPS
distribution center, fuck, I bet he had a driver helping him, it
would be easy to get past the guard that way, why didn't we think
of that first?"
"Fuck, I don't know."
"Pull over here, he's just sitting there now, hell, there he goes
again, he's following that delivery van real close and flashing
his lights.
"They've pulled into that old vacant lot, let's go, we'll take
them now." Joe said.
The UPS delivery driver didn't know what the hell was happening,
he thought he may be having a flat and that man was stopping him.
Then he saw the gun and jumped back in the van. Before he could
leave, the man was pointing the rifle at him.
The driver saw the black SUV pull in and stop; the two men ran
over with guns drawn, they must be the police.
Steven Earl Randall died instantly with multiple gunshot wounds
to the head and body. The UPS driver was shot up bad but would
recover, the doctors told the police.
They had no motives, no clues and nothing to go on, about what
had happened, the delivery van had been ransacked, but a later
inventory showed all packages were there.
"What did you find in that sumbitches pockets?" Joe asked
"Just this shipping label, hell it must have been an old one.
FUCK, look here." Jack said.
"What, hand it here, DAMN, I see. It has AR instead of AZ. That
crazy bastard shipped the money out of state, wonder why he
stopped that driver, he must have been in on it and he was taking
care of him before he went over to Arkansas."
"We going to tell the boss?"
"Hell no, we'll call him and tell him we're on the trail and
we'll have his money in a few days, no need in telling him where
we're heading, he'll just get in the way."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
"UPS distribution, how may I help you?"
"Well, I have a tracking number and I was wondering if the
package had been delivered?"
"Sure, what's the number?"
Stephen gave the girl the number and she checked, then checked
again.
"I'm sorry, that number isn't in our system, when did you ship it
and from where to where?"
"It was shipped last week in Arkansas and was shipped to a
destination in Arkansas."
"The first two digits you just gave me aren't Arkansas numbers,
they're Arizona numbers, You have reached the UPS distribution
center in Little Rock, Arkansas, you must have found an old
label, is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No, and I thank you for your help."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
The only thing he learned from that, was the boxes didn't come
from here in Arkansas, whether they came from Arizona is another
story. He wished he did have internet service now, he could check
the zip codes and the towns. He had the money and possession is
9/10's of the law; he'd always heard.
He knew the money was hot, it had to belong to the syndicate or
some casino trying to hide it. Probably some jerk tried to take
the money, the syndicate would never put their money in cracker
boxes.
"Hey Dog, I'm coming in, don't shoot," Steve laughed as he opened
the door.
Dog was lying in the floor, wagging his tail; that meant he liked
Steve and it was alright for him to come on in. He put the
Styrofoam carry-out tray in the floor and opened the lid and Dog
tore into it.
"We need to get these boxes out of the house and down to the
hole, I wish you could carry one or two at least, but if you'll
just stay over there out of the way, I'll get it done." Steve
told Dog, looking over to see him eat the last of the french
fries.
It took him over an hour to carry the 10 boxes down to 'the
hole', as he called it. Not even Lilly knew where the hole was,
they had swam together in the big pool beneath the falls only
twice and she didn't like the cold water, so there was no reason
fore her to go back.
Steve knew that probably no man alive other than him, knew of the
hole. He knew that someone had once been in there before him
though, there were drawings on the wall and there were ancient
clay pots and bowls there too.
From the back of his house, to the slope where the spring came
from the ground, it was nothing but solid rock, and no matter how
much it had rained, there were no tracks after he had made the
ten trips down the gradual rock slope. He had taken the contents
of one cracker box and put the money in his gun case built into
the stone of the fireplace.
No matter if someone were to break into his gun case, they'd
never find the release that opened the compartment above the gun
case, where he stored all his money. Steve only kept about two
thousand dollars in the bank and the rest he kept here at home.
He figured he had maybe a hundred and fifty thousand stashed in
there, saved from his monthly installment on his buy-out check
and the retirement check he gets each month too, before he put
this last in, making close to four hundred thousand now. More
money than he'd ever had at one time, not even counting the big
boxes down in the hole.
Steve washed the few dirty dishes that were in the sink, then
swept all the wooden floors. He looked at the rumpled bed and
pulled the sheets off, putting clean sheets on and making the
bed. He took the dirty sheets and his dirty clothes out to the
laundry room off the back porch.
That was it, as far as he was concerned, if Crystal did come out,
the house would be clean, if it wasn't clean enough, she could
either leave or clean it herself.
He knew there was plenty of food here, he'd met Lilly three days
ago after she'd gotten off work and they'd loaded up on
groceries, a whole pickup bed load.