The Shack: An Unstoppable Man

I nodded. "It's a trick; what people make up in their heads is more effective than anything they can put on screen."

"That's crazy."

A glimmer on the ground caught my eye, and I bent down to look at it. A spent 9mm shell. Then four more. "Delaney? Have you been doing anything down here?"

She walked over, looking puzzled. "I haven't been down here in the hollows since we put the hides in."

I held up one of the casings. "Maybe they washed out of the ground when it rained last week."

She took it out of my hand and studied it. "Kurt has us do a bunch of shooting, but I don't have anything to even use here."

I didn't even bother wondering if she was telling the truth. Delaney was obnoxious, disrespectful and had a whole stack of issues. She might not tell me everything, but she'd never deliberately lied to me. If she'd have been up to anything down here, she'd have owned it and dared me to call her on it.

"So what's up with Tara?"

I thought about it for a second. "Chuck had plans for Tara. Ugly ones. He didn't think of her as his daughter either."

Delaney's eyes widened as she realized what I meant. "Shit."

"He died way too easy."

She suddenly slumped a bit. "What the hell is wrong with people?"

*****

Billy dragged a box load of parts up to the steps of the office. "Hey, Doc. I'm gonna head back over to get a couple more pieces. Been a pretty good day."

I glanced over the box. Over the last several days, Billy had been meticulous about recording every last piece on the forms. I gave him a pretty good break on most of the prices. He wasn't making a helluva lot of money on this, and most of the parts he was picking were low-value parts that Delaney and I probably wouldn't have bothered with.

Delaney pushed another tire up onto one of the stacks next to the car crusher. I made a mental note to give Stan over at Interstate Tire Recycling a call to make an early pickup. We didn't make much money off of the tires, but that's the secret to running a salvage yard. Lots of little income streams can make you a better-than-average living. Tire recovery, battery core charges, and recycled fluids coupled with the high-value parts Delaney and I salvaged made for a pretty steady income.

Billy passed Delaney, laughing like a wheezing donkey at some comment she'd made, when something spanged off the engine block hoist near the front gate.

I was already diving down the steps before fully registering the accompanying sounds from the road near the gate.

A stuttering storm of gunfire erupted into the yard.

I fixed on Delaney; there was no way I could reach her quickly, but it didn't matter. She'd bolted instantly with no hesitation at all, racing low and fast for the wall of tires.

Billy was closer to the wall, and he paused to make sure she was over before following her to safety, even grabbing her hand to speed her along.

I dove under the wrecker, low crawling to the other side where I was at least concealed from the shooters. I pulled the door open and slithered up into the cab. I yanked the 1911 and spare magazine from under the dash, thumbing the safety off the gun before I dropped back out of the wrecker.

Even as I moved around the back of the wrecker, I knew I was too damn late to do anything.

The shots died abruptly, and an engine clattered and choked out a rough snarl that faded rapidly as a car tore off.

By the time I reached the road, it was long gone, with only spent cartridges marking where it'd been. I tucked the .45 into the back of my belt.

A few seconds later, Delaney and Billy cautiously came up beside me, looking carefully down the road in both directions.

"Two handguns." Billy stopped and rubbed his nose. "Just blasting off shots."

"High-capacity magazines. Probably around thirty shots all told." I pointed at two of the casings. "A forty and a nine."

He studied the brass. "Seems like somebody don't like you much, Doc."

Delaney snorted and shook her head. "That's a long fucking list."

The sheriff's SUV slid around the corner and parked, followed by one of his deputies. He warily assessed the whole area as he walked up. "You have something to tell me, Needles?"

"Somebody did a driveby, a couple handguns, emptied their magazines and bolted. We didn't get a look, didn't have a chance to shoot back."

He looked at Billy, who shook his head. "Hell, Boss, I was too busy keeping my ass down to even try to look."

The sheriff blew out a breath. "Shit. You two into anything?"

"Not a damn thing."

He glanced a Billy. "You?"

Billy shrugged and held his driver's license out to the sheriff. "Billy Aleshire. I'm just here to pick up some parts. I don't hardly know nobody 'round here. Got myself an ex-wife in California who probably wouldn't cry if I bought the farm, but I'm thinkin' that's probably normal." He gave a toothy hapless smile.

I pointed at the shell casings scattered on the road. "Well, you have those. And I do have the camera on the gate. It might have picked up something."

A good fifteen minutes later, the sheriff had the brass bagged up, and we went over the camera video together.

Billy stared at the screen. "Damn cool set up, Doc. Looks like ya got the whole yard covered."

"It's been helpful. But it isn't set up to look out the front gate."

The sheriff nodded. "That's an '05 Honda Civic, but the plates are dirt-covered, probably on purpose. Couple skinny white guys, maybe meth heads, but with those hats, that's all I'm getting. Just a bad angle." He stopped for a second and stared at me. "Meth heads? Maybe they sell other drugs too."

"We might have asked around about who was selling the shit at the rave, but we were just dropping some feelers."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just asking?"

Billy held his hands up. "Sheriff, less'n you need me, I need ta get goin', gotta get those parts to my buddy so I can get some beer money afore the weekend."

The sheriff waved him off. "Wrong place, wrong time. Just leave a name and number with the deputy outside."

"Sure thing, Boss. I just gotta pay Doc here for..."

I held up a hand, thinking about how he'd made sure Delaney was in the clear. "Don't worry about paying for the parts; we're good."

"You sure 'bout that, Doc?"

I nodded. "Been a long day. I can spare the parts this time."

"Thanks, Doc."

After Billy left, I looked back at the sheriff. "Seriously, we were just asking."

I held a hand up to forestall his argument. "Sheree believes Shelly, and she thinks that if they figure out who was doing the pushing, they can figure out how she got dosed."

He grimaced. "You buying that?"

"Normally, no... addicts, ya know? But Sheree's pretty damn good at knowing if someone is lying to her."

Delaney gave a frustrated groan. "She freaking reads minds. She knows if I even think of not telling the whole truth."

"Maybe they heard you were asking around and decided to send a message." He eyed us laconically. "No. Just no."

"No what?" Delaney tried to look innocent but, as usual, completely failed to pull it off.

He gave her the look an exasperated parent gives a three-year-old. "I know you two. Now that they've given you an excuse, you'll start folding, spindling, and mutilating your way through drug pushers until you figure out who was brainless enough to draw your attention."

Delaney frowned. "Needles will have to do the spindling, I don't know what that even is."

I rolled my eyes at her. "I've seen the way you do laundry, Buttercup. You're not exactly clear on the whole folding concept either."

She shrugged. "I've got the mutilate thing down, though."

"Jesus. No." The sheriff pointed at me. "Just...no."

I held my hands up in surrender. "Got it. We will not fold, spindle or mutilate the harmless little poison pushers."

Delaney cocked her head at him. "Can we at least tear the rosa-blanca.ru off their mattresses?"

"That doesn't actually apply to..." He shook his head. "You know what? No. You're not allowed to tear off mattress rosa-blanca.ru either. You two would somehow spark a global war or something."

Delaney grimaced. "Global war sounds good to me. Tiffany and Tara said they're going to start coming over next week to do more wedding planning. Ugh."

The sheriff grinned. "If I ever get to arrest you; I'm going to personally ask the judge to give you community service. I'll get him to make you work for the County Christmas Fair Parade planning council."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Little Miss Mistletoe toddler beauty contest planning, dresses, tap dancing... you could even be a contest judge."

"I hate you."

*****

Wedding Plans

*****

Sheree was still feeling guilty a week later. "I'm still thinkin' that shooting mighta been my fault, Les. All my askin' around about things, trying to find out if Shelly is telling the truth. Probably asked a lot more people than you. Maybe fifty, sixty people. Get all kinda people at the Quick Mart."

I chuckled. "Even pushers need a slushie once in a while."

She gave a sad crooked smile. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't be. Hell, it may not have anything to do with anything. It looked like a lot of the shots went into the sign, so they probably weren't even really trying."

She didn't look convinced, but before we could talk about it further, Tiffany and Tara showed up, dragging a whole case of papers and material swatches with them.

I listened idly, finishing my tea as they went over food choices.

Tara held up a card. "For the gluten-free and vegan options, we can use this same wild mushroom risotto."

Delaney winced with pain. "Is that even food?"

"Not everyone wants a hamburger, you know." Tara gave a smirk.

"Technically, Delaney's a taco-tarian. She lives entirely on tacos." I stretched and settled back in the chair. This was way more fun than I'd expected.

Delaney made a face at me. "I eat hot dogs too."

"And Thai food, and curry and African peanut soup and, pretty much anything that can't eat you first." I looked over at Tara and Tiffany. "Delaney's definition of food is anything slower than her that isn't actually poisonous. Well, at least not lethally poisonous."

Sheree laughed softly. "Behave, Les." She smiled at Tiffany. "I know everyone is supposed to choose their order ahead, but I'd have a few extra of each on hand. People just don't think about what it means when they change their minds."

Tiffany nodded. "We need to figure that out."

"The caterer probably has a formula for what you can expect." Sheree put on her reading glasses to look over a paper. "You said you needed Delaney's dress size, right?"

Delaney suddenly looked horrified. "Oh my God, you're gonna make me be the flower girl."

"No, you're not going to be the flower girl." Tiffany gave her a conciliatory smile.

Delaney relaxed. "Thank..."

"You have to be one of my bridesmaids."

The sound Delaney made was somewhere between a stifled scream and a shriek of outright terror. "Seriously?"

Tiffany practically glowed. "It's perfect. Tara has to be my maid of honor. Lynn, Camille, La'ketha and you will be the bridesmaids."

Delaney closed her eyes in pain. "Maybe flower girl wouldn't be too bad..."

"Eric's niece, Kami, is six. She'll do that."

Delaney put her face in her hands. Tiffany didn't even seem to notice. "We'll all go together to get fitted. I'm thinking of A-line V-neck asymmetrical princess dresses in shades of blue, trimmed in champagne."

Sheree nodded sagely. "That would be beautiful."

I blinked. "I think that's my signal to leave. I didn't understand any of that."

"Save me. Take me with you..." Delaney reached out weakly.

I looked at her. "If it gets too bad, close your eyes and try to think of carburetors."

Tiffany giggled musically. "Dad, you have to wear a tux."

"I can do that."

Delaney narrowed her eyes and glared at me, hissing. "I hope it's one of those stupid penguin-looking things with the big swooping tails and a giant top hat."

Tara shook her head. "Sorry. They're the regular kind. Bow ties and cummerbunds. No hats."

"Eric got a say in that." Tiffany nodded to me. "Mom said you should wear your medals and badges and stuff on your tux. She says you have a lot of them."

"I know where they are, but that's up to you, not her."

Tiffany smiled blindingly. "I'd like it if you did."

Sheree cocked her head to one side. "I'd like to see that too, Les." She raised one eyebrow. "I bet you look awful good in a tux with all those medals." She made a throaty growl.

Delaney winced dramatically. "Ugh! Too much. Must. Leave. Now."

"Nope." Tara laughed, then pointed right at Delaney. "As a sister and a bridesmaid, you're stuck with this. Dad can leave if he wants." She took a breath and looked at Sheree. "We'd rather you stayed to help. Mother isn't doing us much good; she wants to make it the social event of the season, but she isn't much for practical advice."

Tiffany sat up straighter. "Besides, you're going to be part of this too."

Sheree held her hand up. "I'm not really..."

"As far as we're concerned, you are. You sit right next to Dad and Mother in the front row." Tiffany set her jaw.

I watched a rush of emotions flash across Sheree's face, finally settling on a lopsided smile. "I don't know what to say."

"You belong there." Tiffany said it with enough determination that I strongly suspected it had been a point of "discussion" with Charlotte.

Tara gave her a sardonic smirk. "Besides, that puts you next to Dad, where you can keep him from throttling her when she says something stupid."

"Definitely time to leave." I stood up and gave Delaney a sad look. "We'll have tacos tomorrow... if you survive."

"I hate you."

*****

Another One of Those Days

*****

Delaney managed to survive the wedding planning session, even if she was obviously a bit worse for the wear. She only answered in grunts until mid-morning when I reminded her we were having tacos for lunch, then I at least got two-word answers.

Mooky looked around the place before he handed us our order. "A guy who was at the rave knows a guy who heard the name Caleb tossed around. I know it isn't much..."

"It's more than we knew." I thought about the sheriff's warning. "Back off, though, I think somebody is taking this seriously. Somebody did a drive-by last week, fired some shots into the yard."

"I heard there was some kind of shooting thing that happened in town, but I didn't know what." He stared at me with wide eyes. "Dude...you're not going to...like, you know...go on a rampage, are you?"

"Just be careful. Sheriff wants us to let up."

Delaney made a sour face. "We aren't even allowed to tear off mattress rosa-blanca.ru."

Mooky blinked, even more confused than usual. "What does that even mean?"

"It means he's going to be looking over our shoulder, and we have to stop doing anything."

"For now," Delaney smirked.

"For now." I agreed.

"So what are you going to do?"

"It means we're going to go pick up a wrecked bus and take it to the yard. You just keep your head down."

He nodded.

*****

Two hours later, loaded up with a half-crushed school bus, I started to push past a slow-moving Cadillac.

Delaney peered down into the Caddy. "Ten miles under the speed limit. I'm not even sure she can see over the dash. And her glasses are like a foot thick."

"We'll just ease on ahead of her, so she doesn't have to worry about us."

Delaney gave me a sidelong glance. "She probably shouldn't be driving."

"Everybody gets older. The alternative really sucks."

She slid all the way back into her seat. "Yeah, I guess."

"Getting older is tough." I glanced in the mirror and saw a Chrysler 300 coming up. "At least she can still get around."

I could see that sink in. She shifted and gave a slight frown. "Yeah. Mooky said he goes up to Friendship Village because the people there can't really go anywhere."

She shrugged. "Let her drive."

As we passed the Sunday driver, the Chrysler crowded behind us followed, then slipped into the right lane to push past impatiently.

Delaney glanced in the mirror. "What a dick."

"Screw it; he can sweep for cops ahead of us."

It was only luck that I glanced over to see an arm out the window, holding a large revolver.

"Get down. Gun. Gun. Gun!" I hunched down myself.

The shots spawned insanely loud clangs, a giant steel bell that rang in a tight, rapid rhythm as Delaney curled up into a tight ball.

I pushed right as fast as I could risk with the load, hoping to catch him and shove him off the road into the fields.

The metallic clanging suddenly stopped. That was six rounds. I started to reach for my 1911 behind Delaney's seat. He'd have to switch guns or reload. One-handed. While driving. Even with a speed loader a revolver would be a bitch to reload that way.

The Chrysler was suddenly past us as I tried to push him off the road. The rollback just wasn't agile enough to pull it off. Blue and white strobes lit up behind us as a state trooper closed up.

We watched the big Chrysler power off into the distance.

"What the fuck was he shooting?" Delaney looked at me wide-eyed.

"A magnum of some kind, probably a .357."

"It sounded like a damn cannon."

"Pretty much. Basically a light rifle round in a handgun." I waited for the trooper to go after the M300, but he stayed on us instead.

"Holy fuck." She took a few deep breaths. "He fired six shots, right?"

"Nearly all of the magnums are revolvers, and they usually only carry five or six rounds."

"Thank God. Shit." She shook her head and studied the door.

I let the rollback slow to a stop and watched the state trooper in the mirror as he called us in. After a longer wait than usual, he came on up. "Anyone hit?"

"No...I..."

"License and registration, sir."

I could hear the bureaucracy in his voice. I handed them over. "I have a handgun behind the passenger seat. I have a permit for it."

"Then let's go ahead and exit the vehicle, please."

After the awkward dance of getting us both out of the truck and away from the gun, he finished looking over the papers, including my permit. "Why the gun?"

"Repos don't always go well."

He looked up at the passenger door. "Apparently not."

"We haven't done a repo in a long time."

He looked at Delaney. "You have any ID?"

She gave him a decidedly annoyed look. "I have a receipt from Casa del Taco Grande."

"That's not really an ID."

"Call them; they'll know who I am, trust me." I caught her eye, and she sighed. "I do have my learner's permit." She handed it over. No point in buying too much trouble.

He grunted, and we all turned to stare at the door for a long moment. I didn't like the way the bullets were patterned. They weren't random or too tightly grouped. The holes were spaced in a way that should have hit anyone in the passenger seat.

The trooper pulled a pen out and tapped it into one of the holes, coming up short against the boiler plate armor. "What's this door made of?"

"We heard about a repo man getting killed in a drive-by after a pickup, so I mounted one-inch boiler plate in the doors. Pain in the ass to do it."

He didn't look like he was quite buying that, but he let it slide. "You get a look at the driver?"

"Just saw an arm and the gun in the mirror. Big silver revolver. The driver did the shooting."

He looked at Delaney. "Did you get a look at the shooter?"

She made a 'snerk' sound. "Really?" She looked up at the sky. "Why the fuck didn't I think of that? It'd be a fucking awesome idea to stick my head up and bat my eyelashes at some asshole shooting at me with a FUCKING CANNON from SIX FEET AWAY. Jesus, what the hell was I thinking?" She smacked the side of her head.

I nodded in agreement. "That does sound a little obvious, doesn't it?"