The neighborhood that Brad drove through with Susan close behind is about twelve blocks of mostly single storied houses built in the 30's and 40's. At one time they were mostly summer homes that people in the broiling inland valley or San Jose escaped too to avoid the heat, but now they were occupied year around by renter and retired people. Light spilled from the windows of the houses invitingly as Brad and Susan raced passed them towards the beach.
The neighborhood abruptly halted at a yawn of parking lot that criss-crossed the street, the beach just beyond where the street ended. The lot was fairly full of cars, their occupants noisily partying in the light of bonfires. To the left were three streets intersecting off of the parking area, each branching like a tentacle to different areas. Brad turned right into the big lot with Susan following close. She continually glanced into her mirror, expecting to see headlights rushing towards her at any moment, but saw only street lamps drifting away into the darkness. Brad slowed down as an old Volkswagen bus with a bundled rack on top chugged past him towards the triple split roads. Susan saw Brad's hand come out of the Land Rover. He tossed something onto the top of the VW, which clung between the bundles on top. Susan knew it was the tracking device, and now understood what Brad meant by 'diversion'.
Brad rode his brakes as he watched the bus in his mirror. When he saw the bus start to climb the hill on the second road, he smiled in satisfaction and took off. The middle road followed the coast south before crossing back to the main highway. The other two were short roads, the one on the right no more than a quarter mile long. Satisfied that the wild goose chase he had just created would keep the pursuers busy long enough to get far away from here.
Brad went to the end of the street and made a right, traveling along the edge of the neighborhood, feeling confident that Susan's pursuers wouldn't have a greeting party waiting for them at the only other exit from the neighborhood. He glanced down at Manny's a half block away as they completed their circle from where they had started their run from the pursuers and came up to the highway overpass. He saw nobody waiting, no cars running. They quickly crossed over the highway and made a left on Soquel Drive. Susan held close to him, feeling tense about doing 60 in a 35 MPH zone. Brad made a quick right turn and they were suddenly out of town, driving back up the road that she had come down that morning, where everything had started. Where she had met Brad. God, that was just this morning! Brad slowed down as the bright lights of town fell behind them, replaced by pools of home lights and front porch lanterns creating globes of gold in the darkness. The busy traffic of Soquel Drive ceased to exist as they traveled down the country road, leaving it all behind.
Susan realized that she had been holding her breath. She let out a sigh as they rode up and down the hills that led into the mountains, the houses becoming fewer until there was none at all. They traveled for ten minutes passed stands of redwood trees that were black silhouettes against a star lit sky. Brad braked and turned right into a long dirt driveway. In her headlights she could see a large pasture, her lights gleaming off the eyes of cattle that watched them with mild curiosity. As they came up to a barn next to the house a motion detector light came on from the pitch of the barn roof, flooding the area with light. A Labrador Retriever bounded down from the wooden steps of the large porch that ran the expanse of the house. The dog trotted to the truck, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rear end wagged with the movement. In the glow of the light, Susan could see that this was the same house that she had always looked for as a child when traveling to the beach with her family. It was the same house that she had admired with that same reverence this morning just before she saw Brad down the road fixing a fence.
Brad got out of the truck and scratched the dogs head as Susan walked up to them. The dog, satisfied with his masters greeting, went to Susan, tail still wagging and sniffed at her, then looked up at her as if waiting for the expected greeting. She scratched his head and said, "Who's this?"
"That's Recon." Brad responded. "Be careful. You can see that he's a real killer."
Susan looked at the dog, who looked back at her with complete adoration. "Yeah, he's real scary." she said, scratching him behind the ear.
Brad walked over to the barn and slide the large doors back, revealing an expansive barn, with stables on one side, bales of hay in an opening next to the stalls, and various equipment hanging from the walls. On the right side sat the old pickup that she had seen that morning, parked at the back of the barn. "I'm going to back into the barn, and want you to back in in front of me."
She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you assuming I'm spending the night?"
"I'm assuming that there are people looking for you, and aren't real sure of their intentions or what they are capable and willing to do to get what they want. If they add me into their scenario, they might backtrack - look for either of our vehicles as they pass farm houses.
"I have lots of room here." He said, gesturing towards the two storied wooden house. "If you do find it safer to spend the night here, it will be on your terms."
She studied him for a moment. He raised his eyebrows, looking at her the innocence of a boy scout.
"Okay." she said simply.
"Great! Let's do it quickly, just in case they're smarter than I think they are." Brad said, then turned and hopped into the truck, turning it around and backing deep into the barn. Susan followed suit. Brad slid the doors shut as she walked out.
"Welcome to my home." Brad said as he opened the front door of the house.
"You own this?" Susan asked with a tone of disbelief.
"Yep." Brad responded. "And the 200 acres that go with it."
"Huh." She grunted. "I thought you were just a local hippie who worked as a handyman."
"I am." He said. "But, I own what I work on."
Brad flipped a switch as they walked in, Recon leading the way. Light from two lamps with stain glassed shades lit the living room. Their light spilled across the front porch through paned windows on either side of the door. The floor was polished hardwood. Persian rugs graced its surface. A leather couch and reclining, comfortable looking chairs surrounded a large burl redwood table, it's surface polished to a glassy finish. Beside each chair were tall lamps, also topped with stained glass shades. Within the right wall was a large, river rock fireplace, a platform of river rock extended squarely in front of it like a tongue spreading from a cavernous mouth. The walls and ceiling were tongue and groove, knotty pine, warmed by the light of the lamps. Beyond the fireplace, Susan could see what had to be a dining area. A dark wood dining table with ornately carved legs stood in the middle of the room with eight matching chairs surrounding it. On it's surface stood two tall candles in old fashion silver candle holders, each with a small finger grip. Against the wall on the other side of the table was book shelves that extended to the ceiling, filled with hardback books. A wall with a shelf and sliding service door behind the table housed the kitchen. A swinging wooden door entranced the room.
Paintings that followed no theme, other than they appeared to be from all over the world, hung from the walls of the living room.
"Very nice." Susan commented as she took it all in. "Very masculine, but nice. Neat and clean too. Do you have a housekeeper?" She asked teasingly.
"Nope. Just a lot of training. My mother and father raised me like this, and then it was punctuated in my line of work.
"Would you like a tour?" he asked.
"Are you kidding?" she said. "I've wanted a tour of this house since I was a little girl."
On the lower level he opened a door that went into a workout room that looked almost professional. Weight racks lined one wall, filled with dumbbells of increasing weights. A Nautilus free weight machine sat in the middle of the room, In a corner was what appeared to be a body bag, used by boxers to practice body punches, and a speed bag hanging from the ceiling, which is a small leather bag also used by boxers to better their rhythm of movement.
"Do you use all of this stuff?" she asked.
"I like to stay in shape." He answered as he guided her to the next room, which was an office. A large wooden desk stood in front of a window, now dark with night, but probably giving a nice view of the forests behind the green fields in the back of the house in day light. The walls were filled with framed certificates and photographs. She studied a few of them with surprise. Bachelor degree, Masters degree and Ph.D. from eastern Universities. Certificates of qualification or mastering in things she wasn't sure what they meant, other than they were military related. In the photographs were the same clean shaven young man that resembled the long hair, bearded man that stood next to her. In each photo he wore combat fatigues or the full dress uniform of a soldier. In some he wore the stripes of a sergeant on his sleeve, in others the emblem of an officer on his shoulders or shirt lapel. She actually recognized some of the men who stood smilingly next to him staring at the camera, or sternly exchanging salutes with him in what appeared to be a ceremony.
"My God." she said in surprise. "Isn't that the General in charge of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?" Before he could answer she looked at the one next to it and said, "I recognize him. He's the director of the CIA."
She looked at Brad and said. "That's you getting a medal, isn't it? That's you with political celebrities."
"Yes." He said. "That was another life that I once led."
"And, what did you do?"
"My standard answer is the I was a communications expert. Commo was my MOS going in."
"Your what?"
"Commo was my job. It was my first training after basic."
She glanced back at the pictures, then at Brad. "It looks like you moved on to other things during your service.
"Yes, ma'am." he said formally as he led her from the room.
He climbed the stairs, talking over his shoulder as Susan followed him. "Upstairs are four bedrooms and a bathroom. I keep one room made up just in case I have a guest. But, if you decide to stay and like another room, it would only take a moment to make a bed."
She looked at his butt as she climbed the stairs behind him, a slight rise creased the corners of her mouth.
"That's generous of you, pilgrim." she said, doing a poor John Wayne impersonation. "When you say, I can stay in any room, does that mean ANY room?"
Brad stopped at the top of the stairs and turned. In an almost perfect imitation of voice and inflection he said, "That's right, little lady. Any room. Of course -", he said as they came to the top of the steps into a common entryway, "I would suggest you sleep as close to me as possible for ultimate protection."
She smiled and said, "Which door's the bathroom?"
"That one." He said, pointing at the center door, then as he walked to the door beyond it he pointed at two other doors as he walked pass them and said, "Those are the spare rooms." He opened the end door and turned to her. "This is the master bedroom, which has its own facilities."
"Ooh." she said. "I like this." as she entered the room. A Queen size bed centered against the wall. A Large Oak dresser to the side. Windows on two walls gave what must be a scenic view of the area in day light. Thick throw rugs spottily covered the floor. What seemed totally out of place to her was an army green footlocker at the foot of his bed.
"What's that?" She asked.
"Oh, just extra blankets and emergency stuff."
"An army footlocker?"
"Well, when I came home I didn't have a steamers trunk, but I had that. It works."
Changing the subject, he said, "So, if you had a choice, and you do, where would you be most comfortable tonight?"
"I don't know." she said, coming up close and running her hand up his chest. "I like the idea of a bathroom close by."
"Don't forget the protection part." he commented.
"Oh yes. I almost forgot about that. That would be you, wouldn't it? You're my cowboy with the white hat." She said, putting her other arm around his waist.
"If the great Kahuna is with me at all." he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.
When she pulled back she felt as light headed as she did when he kissed her by the fence that morning. "I need a shower." she managed to breath.
"Why don't you jump into this one." he said, nodding towards the master bathroom.
"Since this is the room I'm going to sleep in, that sounds like a good idea." she responded.
"Everything you need is in the left hand drawer. I'm going to go down stair and close up the house."
"I'm not usually this easy." she said as she turned to the bathroom.
"Neither am I." He grinned as he walked out the door.
Susan exited the steaming bathroom, wrapped in a large white towel and placed her clothes on a chair next to the bed. Just then Brad walked into the room. He wore just his jeans barefoot and bare chested, his hair damp and messed. Susan looked him up and down admiringly.
"My, my." she said. "Aren't you the hunk."
"Does that work in my favor?" he asked, going to her and taking her into his arms.
She noticed the hint of soap with a touch of the sea emanating from him. "We'll see." She said as she kissed him on the shoulder.
Susan felt herself falling into the moment, losing herself in Brad's embrace, his lips upon her neck, when suddenly Recon let out a low growl from the open doorway. Brad tensed immediately, and cocked his head as if he was listening to something far away. Susan listened also, not sure of what he was listening to. In the distance she heard a steer moo, then another one as if in response. Then a short bleat, as if a steer was irritated.
"Get dressed, quick." Brad said, turning and rushing to the end of the bed.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"We have company." he answered as he lifted the lid of the the footlocker, pulling out blankets and throwing them on the bed. He glanced up at her. "Now, honey. We don't have much time."
'Honey", she thought. 'He called me honey.'
She pulled the towel from her body and draped it over the back of the chair that held her clothes. As she turned back she glanced at Brad, who had stopped rummaging through the footlocker, staring at her with his mouth open. She smiled seductively and said, "What are you looking at, big boy?"
Brad tore his eyes away and resumed removing blankets from the footlocker. As he did he mumbled almost to himself, "These people are starting to irritate me. They keep messing up our night."
He stood and stared into the bottom on the footlocker in contemplation. Susan slipped into her jeans, pulled on a tank top and slipped into her sandals.
"I'm ready." she said as she walked over and looked into the footlocker that he was studying. At the bottom was neatly arranged weapons. He reached down and pulled out a Glock and a clip of bullets.
"Do you know how to use one of these?" he asked as he handed it to her.
She expertly slammed the clip into the butt of the pistol and slid the action back, chambered a round before she clicked the safety on. She smiled at him innocently and said, "Yes."
Surprised, he asked. "Where did you learn that?"
"I would tell you, but it looks like we don't have a lot of time to chat at the moment."
"Yeah. Right." he responded as he reached back into the locker, pulling out a pair of night goggle, a 45 automatic, in a black military holster, which he strapped to his waist, Velcroing the bottom straps to his thigh. He then reached in and pulled out what looked to Susan like a crossbow, but one like she had never seen before.
"What's that/" she asked.
"The repeating rifle of crossbows." he said. "If things get hairy, we won't want to give away our position." As he quickly put on his boots he said, "Anticipate all scenarios, cover all bases." As he stood he grabbed a T-bar knife from the locker and slid it into a sheath on the pistol belt.
He let out a sigh as he looked at her, then tried to put on a confident expression to his face. "Okay. Let's see what we're dealing with." He turned the lights off, sending them into pitch darkness.
Brad's voice moved towards the window as he spoke, "They're probably not going to move until they think we're pre-occupied or asleep, which means they're keeping an eye on this window, waiting for the lights to go out."
"What are you doing?" she asked, not moving from the spot where she stood when it went dark.
"I'm check out the terrain with night vision goggles." They both were silent as Brad studied the fields in front of the house from the second story window.
"See anything?" Susan finally asked after a long silence.
"Yep." he said. "I see five people spread out across the main pasture. They're carrying weapons and moving slow, trying to not spook the cattle." He paused as he watched. "Oops. They must be wired. They all stopped at once - probably want to give us a few minutes to settle in."
"What are we going to do?" Susan asked.
"Well - ", he said turning, and putting his arm around her, guiding her to the door, "Since there's five of them and two of us, and being in a box isn't exactly an advantageous position, we're going to get the hell out of here."
He stopped at a small hall dresser. Susan heard a drawer slide open and shut. "Here." Brad said as he guided her hand to a flashlight that he held. "Don't turn it on unless you have to take a shot, and then hold it next to the pistol so you can see where your bullet is going."
She felt Brad stop at the top of the stairs, her fingers touching his back. She felt him bend down and whisper, "Recon. Go."
She could barely discern the tap of the dogs nails on the stair well as he slowly descended the steps, the sound dissipating as he entered the lower house. Brad waited for a moment until he heard
the tap of the dogs nails return to the bottom of the steps and stop. Recon made no other sound.
"Okay." Brad whispered. "Let's go."
"Stay low." Brad said as they passed the living room windows hunched down. Brad led them to the kitchen door, Susan and Recon moved quickly into the kitchen. As Brad was closing it behind him the beam of a flashlight pierced the darkness through the window by which they had just passed, the light glancing off the wall, sweeping across the kitchen door just as it closed. Brad hoped that the closing door had not been spotted. If it had, they would have armed people waiting for them at the back door.
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All content - poems, posts & images - are ©2010 by John Evans. No permission is given to post, share, copy, print, e-mail, reproduce, distribute or link to. All Rights Reserved. Please contact John Evans at JohnEvansPoet.Com for licensing inquiries.
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