“I know you do but only you and I know where the clearing is, and I think I should go and find Josh, just in case there is trouble. I promise we’ll find him and take him somewhere safe then meet up with you.”
“We can take him back to mine, no problem.” offered John. Linda looked crestfallen but finally agreed. She really didn’t want to go back to that horrid grave site, not tonight, not ever.
“Okay, we’ll take the Jeep.” She said with more determination than she felt.
“Good, that’s settled then. Buster, have you got any paint in your garage?” Ed enquired.
“I got lots o half tins from paintin’ d’ house. What d’ya need?”
“Anything bright will do but red would be perfect, oh, and a brush too.”
Buster smiled for the first time since they had met.
“Yessir, I got just the thing, I’ll just go get it.” He squeezed through the throng to get to his back door then disappeared into the dark night.
While Buster was gone the group split up into two groups, one of six, Linda’s, and one of three, Ed’s, the ex-military guys spread between the two. Ed removed a calendar from a pin-board on the kitchen door and pocketed the thumb tack then turned back and looked at the gathered friends.
“I don’t want Buster going into the hills earlier than necessary for obvious reasons,” the group nodded and muttered their agreement, “so he comes with me.” He grabbed a pen and an old envelope from near the sink and began to draw a quick sketch of the woods. “Linda, when you go up there spread out over the far side in a shallow C shape, furthest from the stream. He’ll come in from that side so you’ll be facing him. Leave space between you but not so much that you can’t see each other. It’s very dark up there and there’s not much of a moon tonight. Park a lot further up the track so he can’t see your Jeep. Any cell-phones turn off or to silent, we’ll try and get to you before he arrives so don’t start shooting at anything that moves it could be me! Remember, we want him alive and we want him to start digging before we show our hand. Any questions?”
Buster bustled back in at that moment carrying a two-inch brush and a battered pot of paint, complete with old red splashes bleeding down the sides. Just about all of his friends started looking at their shoes or checking their weapons, anything so they didn’t have to look their friend in the eyes. What they were about to do was starting to hit home. Buster passed the brush and paint to Ed who shook the pot to see how much was left inside. It felt like over half a can remained.
“Okay, we’re ready.” He looked at his watch. “It’s 11.15 now. Linda, you guys don’t need to leave for at least another thirty minutes I’d say”. She looked up at a clock on the wall then nodded. None of the group said anything else so Ed’s small band moved towards the door to the hall.
“Buster, I’ll need you with me okay?”
“Okay boss, whatever you thinks best.”
Linda put a hand out to Ed as they moved to the front of the house.
“Please, be careful… and, thank you.” She kissed him fully on the lips. The kiss was long and deep. He breathed in her citrusy scent and lingered in the sweet taste of her mouth. They parted, stared into each other’s eyes, then he turned and almost floated out the door.
TWENTY-EIGHT
John’s Ram pick-up creaked and dipped down on its springs as Buster climbed in the back along with George, a forty-year-old ex-infantry soldier now mechanic and colleague of Buster at the gas station. Ed sat up front with John, the paint wedged between his feet. John put his hunting rifle on the gun rack behind the seat, while George kept hold of his shotgun. Buster gripped a large flashlight in one hand and held onto the side of the bouncing truck with his other. The journey took thirty minutes to make as they headed out of town and up into the hills on the furthest side of town. The last half a mile was made slowly with the Ram’s lights doused, partly so they couldn’t be seen or heard and also because the road was meandering and full of holes. John had passed the entrance to their destination and followed the broken and cracked blacktop another half mile around the back of the small estate and into a small patch of woodland. The truck was turned around then switched off, the got out and got into single file, Ed at the front carrying the pot of paint, and then John, George and Buster bring up the rear. The small group made their way silently through the trees towards the secluded main house. As they neared the boundary fence the trees grew less dense so they started to hunker down then eventually crawled on all fours as best they could the last few feet to the barbed wire boundary fence. From their vantage point in the last of the long grass, they looked onto the back of a large single story wood-sided house. Several lights cast long tapers across the hard-packed earth but faded to dark long before the fence. To the right and just in front of the dwelling they could make out the silhouette of a large barn and two smaller barns facing the front of the property but no movement.
“George, John, you go take a look at the house, see who’s home. Buster and me will go look in the barns. Meet back here in ten okay?” The small group whispered agreement.
“You’d better take this, just in case.” said George as he proffered his double-barrel 12-gauge.
“No, thanks anyway, I’ve got something if I need it.”
They started to rise together but just as the group began to move, the rear door to the house burst open, spilling even more light out across the back yard. The four men dropped back down again and lay flat behind some tufts of coarse grass, watching. Someone stepped out of the house and walked a few feet to the left, out of the reach of the light from the doorway and into the shadows. The prone men watched as the figure struck a match and lit a cigarette. With the man’s back to them, the brief flame gave them the silhouette of someone tall and thin, with short hair wearing work clothes but that was about all. The smoker flicked the end of the match, the flame died and darkness prevailed. He then turned towards the trees, tossing away the spent match, then took a few steps towards the trees taking deep lungfuls of nicotine into his body and slowly exhaling. The hidden men hunkered down even more, trying to make themselves invisible. Ed was on the right of the group, looking ahead but being as still as he could be. Something landed beside his head; he turned slowly and saw just a foot from his face the biggest cricket he had ever seen. He groaned inwardly as he realised what was about to happen. The mighty cricket reared up, and like a virtuoso violinist preparing to play, drew back his rear legs. The first chirp, so loud and clear in Ed’s ears, cut through the silence like a rifle shot. He tried to cover his ears but to no avail, the pain in his head was rolling in like an unstoppable ocean wave heading inexorably towards a beach. Even as the pain increased he knew he mustn’t cry out, he wrapped his arms around his head and held on, the pain intensifying until……
Nothing, he could hear absolutely nothing. He tentatively raised his head and felt pleased that it didn’t fall off his shoulders, in fact; once again, there was no pain at all. Ed looked around and found he was lying in exactly the same position he had been in before the cricket chirped, only this time, he was completely on his own, the other three guys had gone and so had the stranger. He began to rise when the door at the back of the house opened and a lone figure stepped out.