“Yeah. Everything went all quiet after Orlov’s visit. Look, see, here’s an article by the N.Y. Times, says that Orlov is due to come back sometime next year.”
“That’s a good sign, isn’t it? And there’s another one. What does it say?” she pointed down the screen.
“Yeah, says everything went great with the President and Orlov. They’re all buddy-buddy.”
“Do you believe them, Sayer?” she asked, her eyes looking into his, worry etched on her brows.
“Honestly, the articles could be propaganda, like so many things in the news these days. Or they could really be on good terms. It’s difficult to know. I just… don’t trust Orlov. I mean, why make the weapon if he isn’t going to use it?”
“I know. That’s what’s so frustrating. It’s difficult to watch news anymore. There’s so much blustering and negativity out there, along with the fake news. When did that become so acceptable? Where did honest journalism go?” she asked.
“The hell if I know. I don’t know why people put up that crap, really. Fake news? You would think it’d be illegal or something,” Sayer said, frustration clear in his voice.
“Yes, it should be illegal. It could get people hurt or killed. Didn’t they have someone call in some kind of fake 911 and the cops kicked the door down, thinking there were killers inside, when it was just two kids playing a game on TV?”
“Yeah, I heard about that. It seems like anyone can lie and no one checks it out. Remember when that high-up newscaster was caught lying? He got fired.” Sayer shook his head. “Why? Why do people feel they need to lie?”
He changed the subject. “I heard from Pike. He’s heading west. Once he gets settled, he’s going to come up here and we can meet.”
“He sounds like a nice guy. I can’t believe he just picked up and left his home to come out here, though,” Joy said.
“He has a friend, and I get the sense he likes her a lot.” Sayer grinned at Joy, and she laughed.
“Well, I guess that’d be a great motivator, a woman,” she sniggered, her brows waggling up and down.
Sayer leaned over, hugged Joy, and kissed her on her forehead. “I’d move to wherever you wanted to go. I’d follow you anywhere,” he said, tickling her waist. She laughed and shoved at him.
“Goofy.” She laughed, but he could tell she was pleased.
“Well, I don’t know what’ll happen between Pike and his friend. I hope he doesn’t get his heart broken, but either way, moving to Maryville is a smart move. I really don’t think one wants to be anywhere near either coast.” He shook his head. “Hey, I need to go take a look at a shipping container. You wanna come with me?”
“Sure. What’re you wanting with a shipping container?” she asked, puzzled.
“It’s a small one, and I figured we could use it for storage. It’s small enough that I can put it on the back of my trailer.”
“Okay, I’m game.”
They got up and went out to her truck. Sayer backed up to the barn, where he kept the trailer, and jumped out. Connecting the trailer to the truck, he grinned at Joy, who scooted over to the driver’s side.
She slowly pulled the truck forward and Sayer saw that the hitch was good. He connected the wires for the tail lights on the trailer to the truck, then went to the passenger’s side and got in.
“You sure you don’t want to drive?” her brow was up high.
“Naw, I’ll drive back. Especially if we get the shipping container.”
Joy pulled out and they headed for the highway. Sayer looked out the window at the passing flat land. Fields and fields of wheat, their golden heads waving at him. He stuck his hand out and hand surfed, his mind on the news he’d read. He didn’t buy any of it. He didn’t care what they said, he didn’t trust Russia at all.
He gave Joy directions and within fifteen minutes they pulled into a salvage yard. He pointed to the small shipping container.
She pulled the truck up near it. “That’s a nice little container,” she said. “I was thinking it’d be huge.”
“No, it’s pretty small. We can move it around on this trailer until we figure out what we want to do with it.” He saw a middle-aged man, covered in grease and grime, coming out from a building, he reckoned the office. He raised a hand. “Hey, I called earlier about the shipping container you advertised. Is this it?”
“Yep, that’s her. Was wann’n hundred bucks,” the man said.
“If you can load it onto my trailer, we got a deal,” Sayer grinned.
“We can do that. Go on to the office and pay Meg. I’ll get this loaded up for you.”
“Thanks. Come on Joy, let’s go pay for a container.” He grinned at her and put his arm around her shoulder. They both walked to the building Sayer had seen the man come out of. Inside, he could smell oil and grease. The place was cluttered with parts of every description. Most rusted and dented. Car parts, old stoves, old wood stoves, rusted out motorcycle parts, and so on.
He walked up to the counter and a woman, large and in charge, with a cigarette hanging off her lip. “You Meg? We were told to pay you for the small shipping container,” he said.
Meg looked him up and down, and then gave Joy a once-over, and grunted and went to the cash register. “How much he say it was?” she asked.
“One hundred.”
Meg glanced at him, grunted again and rang it up. Sayer pulled out his wallet and pulled out five twenties. He handed it over. She squinted up at him, the smoke going into her eyes. He smiled at her and he saw her eyes sparkle a little. Then she grunted again. “Thanks, come see us again,” she said, and turned around and went into another office and sat down in front of a TV.
Sayer looked at Joy, who shrugged and grinned. They both walked out before they started laughing.
“Friendly,” she sniggered.
“Yeah, really friendly.” He laughed and hugged Joy. They got to the tuck and the man had the container on a large forklift. They watched as he expertly maneuvered the small container on to the trailer. Once on it, Sayer thanked the man, then he and Joy got the thick cargo straps out of the back of the truck. He threw one of the straps over the container and Joy secured her side while he secured the other. They repeated with another strap.
Getting back into the truck, Sayer turned to Joy, “You got your weapon?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Why don’t we head to the firing range and let you practice. It’s only a couple miles away, we might as well. Then we can go out and grab something to eat.” Sayer had gotten her a Sauer P238. It was small enough for her hands.
“Sure, I guess. I just wish I wasn’t so nervous with it.”
“It’s okay, Joy. The more you use it, clean it, the more comfortable you’ll get with it. It’s a tool, just like your surgical equipment. Some of that stuff is sharp, like the scalpels, but you’ve worked with them for so long you don’t even think twice, whereas I’d be scared as hell to touch one.”
“I guess you’re right. I never thought of it that way. I do like it. It’s nice and small. I think if I can just get used to the noise, I’ll be okay.” She grinned at him.
“It just takes time.”
They pulled into the shooting range and got out. Sayer looked around. Not too many people there today. They signed in and received their safety glasses and earplugs. Going outside, they went down to the range. There were different targets, and Sayer loaded one up for Joy.
He stood behind Joy and observed as she checked her weapon, checked and double-checked.
“Are you stalling?” he laughed.
She elbowed him in the gut and then raised the Sauer. He saw her take a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. She fired several times.
“You hit the target! Good shot, honey.”
“I did! Oh my gosh, I did it!” she cried excitedly, looking up at him. Even in her excitement, he noted that she kept the weapon pointed down. He was glad she remembered gun safety.