by Edward Ahern

Kristin almost ran over it, the sodden dark clothes blending into the wet asphalt. She swerved her car onto the far side shoulder, spun back onto the road, and stopped with her headlights back facing the body. It hadn’t moved.

Her first thought was to drive away. Someone else must have had hit him, but she’d be the one arrested if she stayed. She sat for several seconds; hands clenched on the steering wheel. Then, with the engine still running, headlights on, she got out of the car and walked through the frigid rain toward the lumpy shape.

It was a him. The upturned side of his face had a bleeding road rash. She could also see his shirt gently swelling and deflating, Alive then. She knelt and held his shoulders. His hands and feet were bound. As Kristin took out a pocket knife and cut the ropes he stirred. “Hey!” she yelled, “I’m going to call 911. You’re hurt.” And I’m going to take off before they get here.

He turned his head and opened his eyes. “No! No, I just got knocked out for a second.” He tried to get up but his legs buckled and he dropped back down onto his knees. “No ambulance, no cops.”

It was one am, the two-lane county road had only rows of winter-bare trees as witnesses. The almost freezing rain spattered down. He tried to get up again, staggered, and Kristin caught him by the arms. “You need more help than I can give you,” she said.

His laugh was guttural. “Too true.” He shook himself and stared. Kristin stared back. He was young, at least ten years younger than she was, muscle-bunched rather than skinny, maybe three inches taller than her 5’10”. Good looking despite the dousing and scraping. “Is your car here?” she asked him and inwardly cringed, she’d have seen it if it was.

“No. No, no car. Look…” He reached into a pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and peeled off two hundreds. “I need a place to get cleaned up. Is there a motel anywhere around here? Could you take me? I’ll pay you.”

Not complaining about his injuries, so maybe not a scam. “There’s nothing for the better part of fifty miles. My place is a couple miles further up. If you’re okay I’ll take you there and you can clean up.”

He hesitated, seeming to calculate.

She added, “my dog will protect you from me.”

He smiled, calculation complete. “Okay.”

She helped him, limping badly, over and into her car, then pulled a blanket out of the back seat and handed it to him. “It’s got dog hair on it, but it’ll help you dry off.”

“Thanks.” He looked around as if he was expecting someone. ‘The sooner we get away from here the happier I’ll be.”

“Got it. We’re on our way. I’m Kristin, Kristin Hutchinson.”

Brief hesitation. “Just call me Michael.”

“Okay just Michael.”  Kristin made a three-point turn and headed back east. “How the hell did you wind up there?”

“I rolled out of a moving car. Long story I don’t want to tell you.”

She glanced at him, nodded. “Okay. Cops after you?”

“I don’t think so.”

A half mile up the road an oncoming car roared by them, hogging the median and almost forcing Kristin onto the shoulder. “Asshole!” she yelled.

Michael had slumped down in his seat. “He is.”

Kristin turned left onto a two-track dirt access road and drove a hundred yards in. Her darkened cabin squatted at the end. She turned to Michael. “Just sit here while I fire up the generator.”

She walked over to a large shed and went in. A few minutes later the hoarse throbbing of a diesel generator kicked in, and the porch light came on. Kirsten walked back to the car, helped Michael out, and put a hand under his arm to steady him as he walked up the steps

Kristin called out, ‘Heel Alphonse.”

Michael nodded. “So there really is a dog.”

Kristin double unlocked the heavy oak door and went in first, turning on the lights, Michael following. A hundred-pound dog stared silently at him. It looked to be a Rottweiler/Pit Bull cross. The cabin had no feminine decorating touches, but was in inspection order.

“Why Alphonse?” Michael asked.

“As in the 1900’s comic strip. Except what he does is never funny.” Her expression was blank. “Never mind, just my weakness for the obscure.”

She waved toward the bedroom. “Bathroom’s inside there. The hot water’s gas, so you can shower right away. My ex left some stuff in the closet he didn’t want, you might find something to wear. I’ll wait out here., brew some coffee. Unless you’d rather have a drink.”

“Thanks. Booze please.” He limped slowly into the bedroom and shut the door. After a few minutes Kristin heard the gas boiler fire up. A half hour later he came back out, wearing paint-stained jeans that were too loose and a Harley-Davidson Tee shirt that was one size too small. His scraped cheek was raw and red.

Alphonse had already been let out, let back in and fed, and now sat at Kirstin’s feet, His eyes never left Michael.

Kirstin handed him a double shot of bourbon in a water glass. “Sorry, the ice isn’t frozen yet.”

He downed a shot’s worth and began to sip. “That’s okay, I don’t need nice.” He settled gingerly into a padded Adirondack chair. “You don’t look worried, didn’t argue for calling the cops. Living off grid like this maybe you don’t want to?”

Kristin shrugged. “I’ve been on the down low for a while.”

“I need to ask a big favor of you. But I’ll pay for it.”

She said nothing, waiting for him to make his play.

“I need to borrow your car.”

Kirstin’s laugh was window-cracking. “I know it’s a beater, but it’s the only car I’ve got. Sorry.”

His expression went flat, his tone even flatter. “You need to be rid of me quick, before trouble shows up. The guy driving that car has realized that I left with something of his.”

Kristin dropped her polite smile. “Why didn’t he just grab you when you rolled out?”

“Figured somebody was behind him. Couldn’t stop.”

“And now?”

“He needs what I have.”

She chewed her lip. “Not likely he’ll find us.”

Michael shook his head sideways. “That was his car that almost ran you off the road. He’s seen that I’ve not where I fell out, and probably remembers your car. Country setting like this, he’ll ask two or three farmers and learn where you live.” Michael’s lips tightened. “George has a gun.”

He tried to cross his legs and failed, wincing. “I can give you two thousand now, and I’ll arrange to pay you another five thousand. When George shows up you tell him I stole the car.”

Kristin said nothing for several seconds. Then, “You can’t walk, can barely drive. I’ll take the two thousand, but I’ll drive you to the airport. Once you’re through security you can relax.”

She considered. “His best play would be to wait for us to come back, and Alphonse doesn’t like unannounced guests.”

“He’ll shoot your dog.”

“Maybe. But Alphonse has been trained not to bark before he bites.”

The rain had stopped beating on the roof. The night had chilled further and frost was beginning to form on the windows. Kristin looked sourly at them. “They don’t salt the roads around here and black ice is forming up. If we leave now, we’re apt to go into a ditch before we get two miles away. It’s your money, but we have a better chance of making it a couple hours after daybreak tomorrow.”

The whiskey had reddened Michael’s face, which remained without expression. He nodded. “Scary dog you’ve got, but I hope you’ve also got a rifle or a shotgun. Or you can just take the money and loan me the car. George will figure I’m gone when he sees you’re still here but your car isn’t.”

Kristin waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll wreck my car and I need quick transportation as badly as you do. We’re going to have to rely on Alphonse and a twelve gauge until morning.”

She sipped her whiskey and thought. “If he’s willing to kill us, you guys didn’t just knock off a convenience store. I should ask for more money.”

“Two grand is all I have on me. I’ll make it ten grand later.”

Her smile was wry. “And I should rely on honor among thieves?”

“It’s the best I can offer.”

His glance measured the distance between them. He outweighed her by fifty pounds, but with his maybe busted leg he had no chance of getting to her. “Okay. Tomorrow morning.”

Kristin stood up. “No supper, I can’t be preoccupied with cooking. Pull the curtains shut in the bedroom, and sleep on the floor next to the bed, not in it. I’ll sleep out here. Put the money on the table before you go in.”

Michael smiled. “You sound like you’ve done this before. Okay.” He pushed himself up from the low chair, almost toppling over when his hands left the armrests. “Damn that hurts.” He counted out two thousand in hundred-dollar bills and put it on the table, stuffing a few bills back into his pocket. Then he shuffled into the bedroom and shut the door.

Alphonse hadn’t moved during their conversation. “Watch,” Kristin ordered, then went outside into the cold, dropped her pants and pissed into the frozen weeds.  Once she returned she pulled the Remington semiauto from it’s case and loaded five deer slug rounds into it. Then she slewed the heavy sofa around so it was between the bedroom and the door and windows, pulled the curtains shut, cut the lights and lay down behind the sofa.

She woke when Alphonse growled softly into her ear. Two minutes later there was a loud knock at the door, followed by a shout. “Open up, bitch. I know you’ve got Roger in there.”

Kristin took a shooter’s kneeling stance behind the sofa and aimed the shotgun at the door. “Beat it before I call the cops.”

Michael/ Roger tottered out of the bedroom. Kristin waved him back and hissed, “Lay down before you get your ass shot.”

There was a laugh from outside. “No phone line, no cell service, you’re not calling anyone. And I seen the dog shit on the grass. I’ll kill it first.”

“Good luck breaking into a dark cabin and not getting shot.”

George banged on the door. “I’ll burn you out.”

Kristin snorted. “Cabin’s covered in ice. Might take a couple days.”

 Two minutes of silence. Then, “All right, tell Roger to open the door and throw the thumb drive out onto the porch. I get it, I’ll go away.”

Michael/Roger had crawled up behind her. He whispered,” No way, he’d have to check it and make sure. There’s no iPad or lap top in his car.”

Kristin waved him into silence, then yelled. “We’re going to talk about it.”

“Don’t talk too long.”

Kristin turned to Michael/Roger. “How the hell did you get hold of his thumb drive?”

 “His duffel bag was with me in the back seat. I came to while he was busy dodging traffic, unzipped the bag and got hold of the drive.”

“Okay. Is it Michael or Roger?”

A pause. “Roger.”

“Okay, Roger, here’s what you’re going to do. You crawl back into the bedroom pull yourself up on the rear window sill and open the window. Then get out of the way.”

“Hah?”

“Just do it. Fast as you can crawl.”

As Roger scuttled toward the bedroom, Kristin stood up and tiptoed to the front door. Alphonse moved with her. She waited a half minute, then knelt down to his floppy ear. “Window,” she commanded.

Alphonse ran toward the bedroom, nails skittering on the wood floor, then jumped through the window. As he did so, Kristin loudly turned back the bolt on the first door lock. George immediately slammed into the door, but the dead bolt held. Kristin waited two beats, slid back the dead bolt, whipped open the door and jumped to the side with it. George fired twice into the room, then screamed.

Kristin spun into the doorway and fired a deer slug into George’s right hip. “Heel,” she yelled.

Alphonse released George’s neck, and Kristin fired a second slug, taking off a significant chunk of George’s head. Roger hobbled out behind her. “Jesus,” he said, “Jesus.”

Kristin picked up George’s gun and stuck it under her belt. “If you’re going to puke, do it outside.” Then she went through George’s pockets and retrieved a car fob. She turned to Roger. “Wait here. I’m going to go find his car.” She turned to Alphonse. “Watch.”

It took fifteen minutes, but she drove the car, sliding, up the drive. She parked and walked toward the porch, where Roger was waiting, wearing her exes winter jacket.

He raised his right hand. It held a small, concealed carry automatic. He smiled. “George’s ankle gun. My turn to give directions. You know, funny thing about guys, even if they storm off, they usually take their shaving stuff with them. But your ex’s razor and shave cream was still in the bathroom. And the bedroom had what looked like all his winter clothes. Funny.”

Kristin stayed silent, so Roger continued. “Figure if you can off your partner you could off a total stranger. So what should I do with you?”

She took out her pocket knife, opened it, then glanced at the dog. “Alphonse, ready.” The dog’s muscles bunched.

“It’s the same deal, Roger, except you get George’s car and can drive yourself. If you’re able to kill me and the dog you’ve got three bodies to dispose of in frozen ground and a whole lot of your DNA strewed around the cabin. You can barely stand up. Figure it out.”

Roger’s grin was con-man winsome. “You are good.” He lowered the gun. “Okay, truce. While I’ve got the gun, why don’t you walk me to the car. You give me the fob and I’ll be gone.”

“Okay. Hold onto me harder than you do the gun. It’s slippery. Alphonse, heel.”

She carefully frog-walked Roger over to the car and helped him in, the dog padding next to his gun hand. He started the engine and looked up at her. “You never asked about the thumb drive.”

“It’s better that I don’t know. Less need for you to come back and see me sometime.”

“Yeah. You probably shouldn’t expect that I’ll be sending you money.”

“I don’t. “She patted the side of the car as he put the car in gear.  “Don’t bother looking for the fifteen thousand that was in George’s bag. It disappeared.”

end