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The truck lurched, and the dog in the back of the truck yelped again. Kelvin forced himself to ignore the cries of the “bait.” Their sacrifice would put an end to a much larger horror, but that didn’t assuage his guilt. At least the cats had stopped yowling. He needed all his attention for the uneven road.
He’d snagged the cats from the “free to good home” parking lot give-away next to the Wal-Mart. The woman’s worry changed to grateful relief when he agreed to adopt them all. That moment would haunt him, and he damned Sunny for forcing his hand.
Sunny mocked his “humanization” of his dog Hercules. She treated her own dogs well, in the same way she cared for her guns and truck, but considered them replaceable tools. She treated people the same way, as either assets or expendable. Loyalty had a price, and emotion had no part in Sunny’s life. The fires of childhood abuse forged her, so Kelvin didn’t blame her brokenness, any more than he blamed a copperhead for its nature.
She demanded he get his hands dirty, too, as insurance he wouldn’t hang her out to dry. Kelvin needed Sunny’s unsavory contacts to spring the trap and be a hero. That would absolve him. Hell, if he hadn’t taken the kittens, they’d be dumped somewhere else, and die anyway. This way, their sacrifice made a difference.
But compared to the high school kid, stealing a few animals barely rated. In this part of the country, anyone with half a brain knew what chained Pit Bulls meant, so it didn’t surprise him when the kid ran. Hercules hadn’t meant to kill the kid. Hell, the dog had been hysterical when Kelvin finally got him back to the truck. Nobody could know, not even Sunny. That’d give her insurance he’d never be able to pay off.
Kelvin couldn’t have the cops bust the fight ring and disrupt the Doctor’s plans before Kelvin could spring the trap.
If he hadn’t got so rattled, Kelvin would’ve jacked the kid’s car out of the muck and dumped it somewhere before running Hercules home. On his way back to address that little detail, the muddy stray dashed in front of his truck like a belated Christmas present. Kelvin slid to a stop, it waited for him, wriggling and wagging, and even slurped him across the face when he scooped it up. He slammed the kennel grate in the dog’s face and tried to ignore the betrayal he imagined in its eyes.
The rain came down in sheets and he needed all his attention to keep the truck on the narrow lane, grateful when he could increase the turtle pace on the narrow drive. Kelvin slowed to a near stop, turned, and punched the gas and the truck jackrabbited onto the road. But he couldn’t outrun the pungent wet-dog odor of the stolen dog that clung to his clothes.
He squinted at the dark clouds that turned day to twilight. The wipers flailed in an effort to keep the windshield clear, and the inside of the glass fogged despite the dashboard blower. Kelvin cracked opened his window to help clear the steamed glass. A prickly sensation tickled and raised hairs on the back of his neck and the rain abruptly stopped. The hum of tires on wet pavement changed when the truck slowed for the final turn.
He pulled onto the narrow pathway and rolled the window the rest of the way down. The ditch now rushed with water, and the kid’s tinker-toy yellow car was gone.
Kelvin continued slowly down the drive, puzzling what that meant. Good that the car no longer flagged this turnoff like a hazard warning. If the flood took the Mini Cooper away, he must be living right.
But Sunny’s friends had eyeballs on the area. If one of her cohorts saw what happened to the kid, and moved the car for the leverage, Kelvin figured he’d just bit into a shit sandwich. He needed to pick Sunny’s brain without giving her more ammo to screw him.
He pulled out his phone, and tried to get a dial tone. The weather played havoc with reception out here. Kelvin climbed out of the truck, and walked toward the rear of the vehicle before a couple of bars appeared on the phone promising better connection. Sunny answered on the first ring.
"Sunny, I picked up some bait like you said. Something happened, though, got to change plans."
Her voice crackled through static on the line. “I get paid anyway, whatever happens. That’s the deal.” The wind picked up so much Kelvin had trouble hearing Sunny’s response.
He covered one ear and ducked his head, leaning against the truck bed to use as a windbreak. "A car got stuck in the mud, right off the road." He felt more than heard the hiccup in his voice and hoped Sunny didn’t recognize the emotion.
“Did you go all Good Samaritan and help ‘em out?” Sunny dropped the mocking inflection. “Keep him away from the barn, that’s the main thing.”
"I never found the driver.” The lie came easily on the heels of relief. “I hope he caught a ride. If your friends caught him snooping, he wouldn't live to tell about it."
“True enough. Only reason they let you get close was my recommendation. It’s a payday for them, too, if we don’t screw it up.”
"Right, that's what I figured. Anyway, now the car disappeared, and I didn't touch it.” He kept his tone neutral. “Your friends again?"
Sunny paused. “Not that I heard. Whoever gave him a ride must’ve collected the car, too.”
Kelvin half smiled. She didn’t know. That didn’t mean her friends didn’t have him on video, though. "Maybe flood waters moved it. But you said they monitored the area. Is it cameras or what?" Lightening cracked and Kelvin jumped when a chorus of yowls erupted from the twin kennels in the truck’s bed. “Could your, uhm, associates have moved it?”
Her answer again mixed with static proved too garbled to understand except for the last word: payday. Leave it to Sunny to have her priorities straight.
"I got to go, Sunny, it's fixing to storm something fierce. Don't worry, you'll get your money.”
Her final jab came crystal clear. “Deliver your end of the bargain, Kelvin, and get those animals over to the barn or you’ll have more than hail to worry about.”
Kelvin disconnected without answering. Lightening crackled again, and rain rejoined its dance with the wind. Time had run out for the cats and stray dog in the back. He’d thought the price steep enough in terms of innocent lives, until BeeBo and the unnamed kid tipped the balance further into the red zone. He’d make sure their lives counted for something.
The truck lurched as Kelvin climbed back inside. In another day or two, it wouldn’t matter if Sunny’s associates knew anything or not. Once rounded up along with the Doctor, the cops would dismiss any fantastic claims they spouted as desperate fabrications.
He shoved the truck into gear, and drove slowly toward the hidden barn, already planning how to get the animals from the truck into the dumpsters. It’d take three or maybe four trips. He didn’t have a carrier, so he’d have to tote one by one while dodging a path through the chained Pit Bulls. They wouldn’t bother him, but probably considered smaller pets as prey. The truck hit a pothole, and the bucking movement jarred something loose in the truck’s bed.
One of the kennel doors sprang open. It slapped to and fro in the growing wind. Kelvin took his foot off the gas when the three cats spilled out. The littlest one, the color of dark honey and probably just as sweet, climbed up something dark that moved. Kelvin twisted in his seat to stare, as the truck continued to coast.
The dark shape became a youngster. The boy tucked the small orange cat inside his coat and scooted on his butt to the passenger side of the truck bed. Kelvin cursed when the muddy white stray dog followed him. The boy boosted the pooch up and over the side of the truck. It yelped when it landed.
Kelvin watched with disbelief as the stolen “bait” escaped. The boy turned back, maybe to gather up the last two cats, saw him, and yelled. Kelvin slammed on the brakes.
"Run! Kinsler, run run run!" The boy vaulted over the side of the truck to follow the dog.
Kelvin leaped from the truck, cursing, but didn’t attempt to stop the boy. He stood and watched him pelt down the muddy trail, never once looking back. He waited until the boy disappeared from sight and then Kelvin collected the remaining cats, and delivered them to their destiny. They’d have to be enough.
