Weapons, Half Baked Plans and the Elephant of Surprise
I don’t know how long Lovie and I stand in the deep hole listening for the Bronson brothers. In total blackness, it’s hard to keep track of time.
“I think they’ve gone, Lovie. Do you hear anything?”
“No. But if they’re as hungry as I am, they’ve left to get food.”
“Could be. They don’t seem like the types who would figure out that one of them needs to stand guard.” I grope in the dark until I find the ladder.
“What are you doing, Cal?”
“Climbing back up to see if I can open the trap door.”
I navigate the ladder by feel. If my calculations are right, I’m about halfway up when one of the metal rungs gives way.
“Watch out below, Lovie!”
There’s a thud followed by a series of words I’ll never let Lovie say around my children….if I get out of this hole and marry Jack again and convince him that parenthood and a station wagon are better than a Harley.
“Did it hit you, Lovie?”
“It missed killing me, but now I’ve got a weapon. This baby will do some damage!”
“Great.”
I climb with renewed vigor. As I near the top, my sixth sense kicks in and I slow down so I won’t bang my head on the covering.
“Are you there yet?”
“Just about.” I reach upward and grope around until my hand meets metal. “Got it, Lovie!”
Clinging to the ladder with one hand, I push with the other. The covering doesn’t move, not even one little bit.
“Any luck, Cal?”
“Not yet.”
She says a word that would wilt spinach and I ease upward to put my shoulders to the task. I’m stouter than I look. A woman responsible for the beauty of the entire population of Mooreville has to keep herself fit. I jog every morning, usually with Elvis, who fancies himself the King collecting admiring glances from the neighbors. I don’t have the heart to tell him they’re just making sure he doesn’t pee on their hydrangeas.
I shove until I’m exhausted, and get no more results than I did the first time.
“I can’t do it, Lovie. We’re stuck in here.”
“No, we’re not.”
“I don’t know how you can say that.”
“Because I have a plan. Get your butt back down here.”
With my shoulders aching and my spirits sagging, I climb back down, slower this time so I won’t lose my footing because of the missing rung.
“What’s the plan?”
“Do you think these Bronson brothers are capable of killing, Cal?”
“Holy cow! What kind of question is that? They threatened to slit my throat.”
“Yeah, but do you think they’d do it?”
Lovie always defers to me in matters like this. You’re the one with the genius IQ she’s always telling me.
I rack my poor, tired brain, trying to recall everything the kidnappers have said.
Suddenly, the answer is clear as a bell.
“No. They wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure about that, Cal.”
“Positive. They said, and I quote, ‘I didn’t count on killing.’ ”
“Great. I have a plan, but it’s going to depend on Fayrene’s elephant of surprise.”
It feels good to find something to laugh about.
We get in a huddle while Lovie outlines a far-fetched plan that has little to no chance of success. Still, it’s better than nothing.
*
After what seems like a small eternity, Lovie and I hear noises from above. The Bronson brothers stomp around our hole in the ground and snarl at each other in what sounds like a continuation of an on-going argument.
“What are we going to do about it, Ralph?”
“You figure it out. It was your big idea.”
”We might as well make a little profit on the side. That truck will fetch a pretty penny.”
They stomp off, and I can no longer hear what they’re saying.
“Holy cow, Lovie,” I whisper. “Did you hear that?’
“Yeah, looks like they’re going to sell your truck.”
“The sooner the better. It’ll lead Jack right to us.”
We try to give each other high fives in the dark and I end up smashing Lovie in the shoulder. Then we collapse against each other in nervous giggles.
I hear mumbling that gets more distinct as the Bronson brothers head back to our underground prison.
“Get that plate down there,” Ralph says. “We’ve got a job to do here.”
“I ain’t taking that food down there, and that’s final. That hole’s full of spiders.”
“Idiot! How do you expect them to stay alive if they don’t eat?”
“Watch who you’re calling idiot? Whose idea was it to put them in the hole, in the first place?”
“I figured that’s the only way to hold onto Callie. The boss said she’s too smart for her own good.”
The boss? Lovie and I squeeze each other’s arms, secret sign language for wait and see what else we can learn before we put our plan in motion.
“The boss is somebody who knows me,” I whisper to Lovie. “Who hates me enough to do this?”
“Could be, they just know of you, Cal.”
The Bronson brothers begin pacing around, occasionally stepping onto the metal covering. The sound ricochets off the walls of our underground prison and I cover my ears.
Lovie punches me in the ribs. “It’s time.”
I don’t need a second invitation. Opening my mouth, I let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Did you hear that?” Swifty says.
“Of course, I did, fool. I’m not deaf.”
I scream again, louder this time, and follow up with a series of gut-wrenching moans.
One of our captors stomps on the metal covering. “What’s going on down there?”
“Callie’s sick,” Lovie yells up.
“It ain’t our problem,” Swifty yells back.
“It’s going to be your problem when she dies,” Lovie bellows.
“We ain’t worried about the law.”
Lovie jabs me with an elbow, and I turn loose another series of ear-splitting screams.
Above us, Ralph says a word that’s not even in the dictionary.
My cousin gives this diabolical laugh that even sends chills over me. “It’s not the law you ought to be worried about. It’s Jack Jones. When he finds Callie dead, he won’t wait for the law. He’ll kill you himself. The slow way.”
She punches me again, and hisses, “Tone it down a bit. Act like you’re dying.”
It feels like the hole is suddenly closing in on me. “I am.”
“Not today, Cal.”
I turn loose a series of moans that send the Bronson brothers into a frenzy of pacing and arguing.
“What you think we ought to do?” This is Ralph, the certain one. I take his uncertainty as a good sign.
“Now you’re asking?”
“What does it sound like, idiot?”
“Call me that one more time, and I’m out of here.”
“I guess you don’t want to get paid.”
I turn my performance up a notch. The brothers cease pacing to stomp on the metal cover.
“Stop that racket. We can’t think.”
“What else is new?” Lovie mutters, and my moans turn to giggles. I cover my mouth and fake a coughing fit.
“All right! Shut up down there! “ This is Ralph, trying to act as if he’s in charge of things. “We’re going to get you out, but if you’re faking, your goose is cooked. Understand?”
“She’s not faking,” Lovie yells. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Here comes Phase Two of our half-baked plan. I can’t wait to see this.