Rick pockets the picture and looks over the briefcase. A metallic silver samsonite with black trim it looks like any other out there. When opened it reveals a black cloth liner with dark gray foam block, three cutouts reveal cylinder containers that hold used depleated Uranium shot. ( they are the leftover shots from anti-tank 30mm rounds) the cylinders have a lead look and feel to them, and lock down with four clasps on the lid. The General shows you the door and Rick slips out in to the hall, the door shuts then locks after you.
Back in your room you shoot some pictures of the stolen photo, and hand it over to Barett, and head out to get some food in the dining room. Shelia meets you at the kitchen doorway at shoots you a look that says, be more careful. Then shows you to the food, the rest of the gang has already dug into the cheese and crackers and olives. Barett comes wandering in a few minutes later, smiling big. After a quick meal Shelia tells you to relax for a little bit then you will head down to the port and catch the last ferry from Gozo to Malta, this one will take you direct to the Oracle Casino where your rooms are at.
Maria looks around and says " lets take a stroll thru the gardens before we go". Rick grabs the camera and does some digital scans and the like, with some nice shots of Maria.
The ferry ride is short but boring, you learn from "spanky" that the General is well known in the spook world, and has held several cabinet positions in the past over security. It turns out that Spanky was a transfer over from the "Royal Green Jackets" because he wanted more action, although he never served under Wineburg, he knows about his history.
Shelia on the other hand is not his daughter, that is her cover. She is working as a spook keeping a eye on drug traffic coming out of the middle east, opium and the like. She was made on her last bust and is laying low, and doing background analysis on intel.
The hotel you have is very nice, they take your bags, and show you to the rooms. Large suites with connecting doors at the sitting rooms ( each suite consists of a large sitting room, a large bathroom with jetted tub, and bedroom with king size bed. There are three rooms, one for each couple. It's just before midnight now and Barett suggests using up the complimentary game chips downstairs in the casino, before turning in for the night.
What does Rick do ?
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Rocking the suburbs.......
Just a few images from old sketch books that I found. I like the one of Barett with the lighter, He looks like he is planning to burn something down. On the other hand, he may be planning on hurting someone...or he is just lighting a simple mavatav cocktail.Thursday, June 19, 2008
Rick and Maria's trip II
Rick should have better things to do, he should be a good guest. But alas he is a Coontail Brother. Rick looks things over, and quietly sneaks back into his room, climbs out the window on to the porch, and waits for a minute, letting his eyes adjust. Looking around to make sure he is alone, and seeing that the coast is clear, he spider crawls along the edge of the building under the windows of the kitchen, where the light, throws square blocks of illumination onto the ground. He can hear the muffled sounds of Shelia talking to the help about food and towels, and the clinking of dishes. The rain has let up and the wind has calmed down, the fast moving storm has just about passed over and the stars are peeking through the clouds in spots. Rick can see a strip of light coming thru a window about 25 feet ahead, right in the room at the end of the hall. He prowls up to the window and sneaks a quick peek in before pulling himself tight againest the wall. The curtains are pulled tight but a thin triangle is left open at the bottom. From this limited postion he makes out a T.v. on, a large desk in one corner, tall bookcases line the far wall. The room is richly decorated with animal heads and antiques. The window is cracked slightly and could be opened from the outside. He waits and listens carefully, not hearing anything but the drone of the news on the tv, Rick figures he could enter the room unnoticed. Having scoped out the room as best he could he figures that no one is in there right now. What does he do ?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Coontail Myster Part III
“You never cease to change do you? Once a paranoid always a paranoid I guess.” Melissa joked to no one in particular as the sheriff's truck disappearing down the road.
“That must be why I love you.” She said to herself.
She waited for ten minutes and then followed.
It started to rain again. Barett’s mind traced back and forth through the clues he had so far as the gray rain thudded against the windshield. After a thirty minute drive up Highway 101 he came to the exit that lead to Old WA 9 road and a minute later he arrived at Bob’s house that sat at the edge of the lake. There were a few more cars around than there should be.
Bob was a strange duck. His house was small but very upscale. It was tucked away into the towering green trees on the shore of Lake Quinault. Barett had never figured out where or how Bob had made his money, but you could always find the guy hanging around the one and only town bar/restaurant early every morning gathering stories and gossip like a fly the never fails to show up for a picnic. Bob was in everything but never did a thing. Strange how he always seemed to have a lot of cash stashed somewhere.
Looking around as he drove up Bob’s driveway, Barett easily spotted the small group of people gathered together.
"Just like flies." He thought.
They were standing outside the big five bay garage/barn-like building Bob used to meticulously store all of his ‘toys’. His backhoe was out in the rain and muddy which Barett instantly thought was odd. Bob was selfish with his stuff. He never brought it out because he never did any work but that wasn’t the point. He drove around in a beat up Chevy while the nice cars and other large equipment just sat inside the bays with diapers wrapped around the oil pans like they were plaited with gold. The only way Bob would have his precious backhoe out in the rain was because he was dead.
But he wasn’t. It wasn’t Bob because he was sitting in a puddle crying like a two year boy who had lost his mommy. The small crowd parted for the town sheriff to reveal the gruesome scene.
He wasn't expecting this. He was speechless and taken by total surprise.
Someone, by the looks of it had used the backhoe to plant a telephone pole in front of the barn and then had taken someone and crucified them in a St. Peter’s cross style.
Barett just stared dumbfounded with everyone else. What the hell was this!
The body looked like it was a part tiger. It was big and shirtless and hung upside down, the head about 2 feet off the ground. Words were written clearly across the chest of the body for everyone to see, in the same blue marker that as was found on Luz, the girl that got sandwiched between the bus and Cadillac. The words were “John Darling”. Here was another dam Peter Pan reference. He know this because he had been reading it. But there was more this time. Above the man’s feet was a wooden plaque with writing on it just like what Pontus Pilot had done when he ordered one to be placed above the Christ when he was crucified. The writing on this sign here was also in three different languages. Two of them Barett could only guess what language they were but the third appeared to be Latin. It read Puer Aeternus.
The morbid crowd followed three steps behind as Barett moved closer to get a better look. The man’s face was bloody mess and Barett's fear was confirmed as he looked closely at him. Again it was someone he knew from the University. It was Thomas Ramsden. Big Tom, as he called him, was a fellow grease monkey professor and boxing partner Barett had worked out with back in Everett. They had gotten along marviously.
It looked like someone had beaten him pretty good before hanging him up. No an easy task mind you.
As Barett continued to examine and look for clues, the body moved.
“Holy dog fart! He’s still alive you idiots!”
Barett moved quickly to start removing his friend from the make-shift cross when an all too familiar sting slammed into him, biting hard into his back. It was followed by a sound in the distance of a sharp crack in the woods.
The caliber was big but his armor had stopped it.
Barett was pissed! Someone was playing with him and trying to finish Tom off in front of his eyes. The crowd of people wisely remembered that they had some better place to be at that minute and scattered. Barett was along as a human shield. He spun, pulled his .45 and scanned the forest. He heard shots, but this time they weren’t aimed at him. Then Melissa’s voice cracked over the radio.
“ Barett! I have a problem here!”
More shots. Two? No three different guns were firing.
“BARETT, GET YOUR . . .”
Boom echoed a shotgun.
Then silence of the falling rain was all he heard.
What does Barett do?
“That must be why I love you.” She said to herself.
She waited for ten minutes and then followed.
It started to rain again. Barett’s mind traced back and forth through the clues he had so far as the gray rain thudded against the windshield. After a thirty minute drive up Highway 101 he came to the exit that lead to Old WA 9 road and a minute later he arrived at Bob’s house that sat at the edge of the lake. There were a few more cars around than there should be.
Bob was a strange duck. His house was small but very upscale. It was tucked away into the towering green trees on the shore of Lake Quinault. Barett had never figured out where or how Bob had made his money, but you could always find the guy hanging around the one and only town bar/restaurant early every morning gathering stories and gossip like a fly the never fails to show up for a picnic. Bob was in everything but never did a thing. Strange how he always seemed to have a lot of cash stashed somewhere.
Looking around as he drove up Bob’s driveway, Barett easily spotted the small group of people gathered together.
"Just like flies." He thought.
They were standing outside the big five bay garage/barn-like building Bob used to meticulously store all of his ‘toys’. His backhoe was out in the rain and muddy which Barett instantly thought was odd. Bob was selfish with his stuff. He never brought it out because he never did any work but that wasn’t the point. He drove around in a beat up Chevy while the nice cars and other large equipment just sat inside the bays with diapers wrapped around the oil pans like they were plaited with gold. The only way Bob would have his precious backhoe out in the rain was because he was dead.
But he wasn’t. It wasn’t Bob because he was sitting in a puddle crying like a two year boy who had lost his mommy. The small crowd parted for the town sheriff to reveal the gruesome scene.
He wasn't expecting this. He was speechless and taken by total surprise.
Someone, by the looks of it had used the backhoe to plant a telephone pole in front of the barn and then had taken someone and crucified them in a St. Peter’s cross style.
Barett just stared dumbfounded with everyone else. What the hell was this!
The body looked like it was a part tiger. It was big and shirtless and hung upside down, the head about 2 feet off the ground. Words were written clearly across the chest of the body for everyone to see, in the same blue marker that as was found on Luz, the girl that got sandwiched between the bus and Cadillac. The words were “John Darling”. Here was another dam Peter Pan reference. He know this because he had been reading it. But there was more this time. Above the man’s feet was a wooden plaque with writing on it just like what Pontus Pilot had done when he ordered one to be placed above the Christ when he was crucified. The writing on this sign here was also in three different languages. Two of them Barett could only guess what language they were but the third appeared to be Latin. It read Puer Aeternus.
The morbid crowd followed three steps behind as Barett moved closer to get a better look. The man’s face was bloody mess and Barett's fear was confirmed as he looked closely at him. Again it was someone he knew from the University. It was Thomas Ramsden. Big Tom, as he called him, was a fellow grease monkey professor and boxing partner Barett had worked out with back in Everett. They had gotten along marviously.
It looked like someone had beaten him pretty good before hanging him up. No an easy task mind you.
As Barett continued to examine and look for clues, the body moved.
“Holy dog fart! He’s still alive you idiots!”
Barett moved quickly to start removing his friend from the make-shift cross when an all too familiar sting slammed into him, biting hard into his back. It was followed by a sound in the distance of a sharp crack in the woods.
The caliber was big but his armor had stopped it.
Barett was pissed! Someone was playing with him and trying to finish Tom off in front of his eyes. The crowd of people wisely remembered that they had some better place to be at that minute and scattered. Barett was along as a human shield. He spun, pulled his .45 and scanned the forest. He heard shots, but this time they weren’t aimed at him. Then Melissa’s voice cracked over the radio.
“ Barett! I have a problem here!”
More shots. Two? No three different guns were firing.
“BARETT, GET YOUR . . .”
Boom echoed a shotgun.
Then silence of the falling rain was all he heard.
What does Barett do?
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Coontail Myster Part II
It rained like it was the end of the world for three days straight. Then it just rained like it normally did in the winter on the Washington coast, always. Little could be done other than interview witnesses, checking out both vehicles involved in the accident and filling out reports. The whole thing was a big stinking pile of nonsense. No one knew anything. No one had seen anything. And he had only a few disjoined clues.
Barett sat at his old oak desk in the little sheriff’s office, his head bowed down in his propped up hands, thinking. The one of the two florescent lights flickered incessantly on the papers Barett had been reviewing and writing up. A cup of now cold coffee was used as a book propped, which lay half open and forgotten at the side. He wasn’t finding any answers there other than the guess that someone was playing the role of ‘Captain Hook.’ The girl, Luz Millican was her name, had died from two puncher wounds found just bellow her sternum. It wasn’t a knife that had punched her because the path had curved upward into her heart. Curved like a hook. She had killed in her nightgown and had some bloodied flowers, posies to be exact, found in her pockets.
Ring a-ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
a-tishoo!, a-tishoo!.
We all fall down
Or the other way he knew it,
Ring around the rosies,
A pocketful of posies.
ashes, ashes.
We all fall down!.
He had liked her. She was a smart girl with potential. She was good looking too. Give her one more year and if he cared enough he would seriously have thought about pursuing a relationship. But he had left and really didn’t care if he would have seen her again or not. She was just another girl. But now she had shown up dead 200 miles away from Everett to a town no one should know about and no one should know he was here. Maybe it was coincident but he didn’t believe that. It felt like someone was after him.
The front door slammed open. Barett looked up from his desk to watch the familiar figure of Melissa, cloaked in her dark green poncho come in, dripping wet but happy.
“Here is your toxicology report.”
She pulling off the poncho and hung it on the hat & coat rack next to the door, adding to the abundant puddle of water that was dripping from a leak in the roof. She walked over and dropped the open packaged like a bombardier on his desk and then took the seat opposite him. Melissa leaned back on the wooden chair like she always did and banged her feet up on the desk while Barett took the report.
The data didn’t tell him anything. There was nothing unusually in her. He had expected drugs or something but she was clean. This was frustrating.
He looked up.
Melissa was smiling at him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What do you mean me?”
“Look at you. Barett Coontail the local sheriff all serious and up in a huff about some death.” She smiled big. “You are full of surprises.”
He had opened his mouth to say something back when the phone, a black rotary model of all things, rang.
“Hello”
“Sheriff, come quick!” a shaky male voice replied.
“What is it Jed?” Barett had recognized the mailman’s voice.
“Some uns been all hunged up and killed.”
“Where are you at.”
“Out here on Old Wa 9 at Bob’s place on the lake.”
Barett knew the place. It is a real nice house just east of the Amanda Park.
What does he do and what does he take? Does Melissa come with him?
Barett sat at his old oak desk in the little sheriff’s office, his head bowed down in his propped up hands, thinking. The one of the two florescent lights flickered incessantly on the papers Barett had been reviewing and writing up. A cup of now cold coffee was used as a book propped, which lay half open and forgotten at the side. He wasn’t finding any answers there other than the guess that someone was playing the role of ‘Captain Hook.’ The girl, Luz Millican was her name, had died from two puncher wounds found just bellow her sternum. It wasn’t a knife that had punched her because the path had curved upward into her heart. Curved like a hook. She had killed in her nightgown and had some bloodied flowers, posies to be exact, found in her pockets.
Ring a-ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
a-tishoo!, a-tishoo!.
We all fall down
Or the other way he knew it,
Ring around the rosies,
A pocketful of posies.
ashes, ashes.
We all fall down!.
He had liked her. She was a smart girl with potential. She was good looking too. Give her one more year and if he cared enough he would seriously have thought about pursuing a relationship. But he had left and really didn’t care if he would have seen her again or not. She was just another girl. But now she had shown up dead 200 miles away from Everett to a town no one should know about and no one should know he was here. Maybe it was coincident but he didn’t believe that. It felt like someone was after him.
The front door slammed open. Barett looked up from his desk to watch the familiar figure of Melissa, cloaked in her dark green poncho come in, dripping wet but happy.
“Here is your toxicology report.”
She pulling off the poncho and hung it on the hat & coat rack next to the door, adding to the abundant puddle of water that was dripping from a leak in the roof. She walked over and dropped the open packaged like a bombardier on his desk and then took the seat opposite him. Melissa leaned back on the wooden chair like she always did and banged her feet up on the desk while Barett took the report.
The data didn’t tell him anything. There was nothing unusually in her. He had expected drugs or something but she was clean. This was frustrating.
He looked up.
Melissa was smiling at him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What do you mean me?”
“Look at you. Barett Coontail the local sheriff all serious and up in a huff about some death.” She smiled big. “You are full of surprises.”
He had opened his mouth to say something back when the phone, a black rotary model of all things, rang.
“Hello”
“Sheriff, come quick!” a shaky male voice replied.
“What is it Jed?” Barett had recognized the mailman’s voice.
“Some uns been all hunged up and killed.”
“Where are you at.”
“Out here on Old Wa 9 at Bob’s place on the lake.”
Barett knew the place. It is a real nice house just east of the Amanda Park.
What does he do and what does he take? Does Melissa come with him?
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Trip Equipment wish list
Rick, from his brother’s recommendation, is testing out two new guns types he hasn’t used much. The first is the MP5K-PDW with suppressor and 4x30 tri-ring scope with strobe flashlight and weaver base laser sight with 10, 30 round clips of frangible round. Rick is bringing two H&K P30 9mm guns, one for himself and the other for Maria. He will have 20 extra magazines also using frangible shells.
He is also bringing some equipment for Reconnaissance but this equipment will easily pass as tourist toys. He is bringing a Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP Digital SLR Camera. He is taking the high-end high resolution camera for later recon evaluation. But Rick and Brett are also planning to have some fun with the camera with the girls in documenting the trip and getting some sexy shots.
Camera:
Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP SLR
Lens:
Zoom - EF 300mm f/2.8L IS USM w/ Canon EF 1.4X II Extender ($4,400.00)
EF 24-70mm f/2.8L USM ($1,190.00)
Wide - EF 24mm f/1.4L USM ($1,170.00)
He also has the following:
Wire cutters, Victorinox Swiss Army Oxodized SwissTool, duct tape, black electrician’s tape, and small briefcase that houses a compact computer Rick designed and built.
He is also bringing some equipment for Reconnaissance but this equipment will easily pass as tourist toys. He is bringing a Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP Digital SLR Camera. He is taking the high-end high resolution camera for later recon evaluation. But Rick and Brett are also planning to have some fun with the camera with the girls in documenting the trip and getting some sexy shots.
Camera:
Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP SLR
Lens:
Zoom - EF 300mm f/2.8L IS USM w/ Canon EF 1.4X II Extender ($4,400.00)
EF 24-70mm f/2.8L USM ($1,190.00)
Wide - EF 24mm f/1.4L USM ($1,170.00)
He also has the following:
Wire cutters, Victorinox Swiss Army Oxodized SwissTool, duct tape, black electrician’s tape, and small briefcase that houses a compact computer Rick designed and built.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Rick and Maria Take a trip
Not long after they arrived in London, an idea struck Rick. He wanted to show Maria a good time, go on a real date. Now Rick still thinks big, I mean thats what he does. Knowing that everyone needed to get jump certified ( that is they had to make six parachute jumps ) before two weeks, he scheduled a special drop for the last free fall jump they needed. He also planned a date with Maria, a big weekend on the town at the same time. Barett was in on the gig, he had meet a hot nurse over at the hospital, who was a real adrenaline junkie and liked jumping from planes. The game plan was a multi-level scam on the girls, First they would all schedule dates for thursday night, as friday was a holiday and they could be off for three days. Not due back till roll call and pt monday morning they figured this was their best chance. Rick had hacked the computer and put them in for a last minute drop on thursday afternoon.( emergency schedule, had to go) Then he planned out some hotels and the like ahead of time in the drop zone. Let the girls go shopping for some clothes, eat some good food and make their way back to base by monday morning, easy, simple, what could go wrong ?
Thursday afternoon they meet on the tarmack, Rick and Barett have packed extra bags, just in case. The girls are totally ticked off, knowing that this jump messes up the dates. Barett's left a UNODIR message for CO captain Joe and let Dave and Utah know their plans. As they load on to the plane Spanky comes rolling up and jumps in the plane, " hey guys glad I could catch this last plane, I totally needed this jump" as the plane starts to taxi down the runway.
Dang thinks Barett, like we need a third leg on this double date. He looks at Rick then back to Spanky. What does Rick do ? What did Rick pack in his SMALL bag ?
Thursday afternoon they meet on the tarmack, Rick and Barett have packed extra bags, just in case. The girls are totally ticked off, knowing that this jump messes up the dates. Barett's left a UNODIR message for CO captain Joe and let Dave and Utah know their plans. As they load on to the plane Spanky comes rolling up and jumps in the plane, " hey guys glad I could catch this last plane, I totally needed this jump" as the plane starts to taxi down the runway.
Dang thinks Barett, like we need a third leg on this double date. He looks at Rick then back to Spanky. What does Rick do ? What did Rick pack in his SMALL bag ?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Twins are Double Trouble
The morning's storm had subsided. The once threatening clouds had lost their previous grey and now floated majestic and giant in the pale blue sky. Barett Coontail breathed in the smells of recent Washington rain. As he drove along the gentle curve, the antennae of his 4x4 rattled and swayed. Barett let a rare chuckle slip. Here he was in a Sheriff's truck. The thing was, who knew the job of Sheriff would be so quiet?
His call of the day? A loose dog. Child's play. As he rounded the curve he let the trees behind. He came upon a row of houses; wide, one story buildings. He slowed down and kept his eyes peeled for anything furry and on four legs. In his search he noticed something out of the ordinary, an open door. Barett stopped. As he set to exit the vehicle, he saw and oddly familiar sight. Within the open door was a glimmer like water vapor. In previous experience, such a vision preceded the rolling of heads. However, this was different. The glimmer was smaller, less smooth, and appeared to be carrying a 20" television. Unsnapping his hip holster, Barett eased himself out the driver's side door, keeping the vehicle between him and this unexpected perp.
So, what's next?
Friday, June 6, 2008
Coontail Myster
Gray heavy rain clouds tumbled in the late afternoon sky out over the ocean. The clouds caused the sunlight to stream in at odd angles, turning the air above the tree tops to a shade of yellow. The atmosphere and lack of previous of humidity had been unusual for this winter. But now with the giant storm just off the coast and the air sizzling with the coming change there was general feeling of gloomy excitement. This was going to be a big one. The moister was coming to the forest town like an angry wife comes barreling full-bore angry at a second-rate, useless husband. This was going to be a storm most had planned to avoid by being indoors.
But the storm was the last thing on everyone’s mind. People stood around stunned at what they were seeing. Traffic, if one could call a bus and twelve cars traffic, was stopped in the middle of the road in every which direction. Truth was anyone could easily go around if they wanted but morbid fascination kept them there. The entire population kids from the local school who were coming home from school in the bus were moving about everywhere. Some sat on the side of the street crying while other ran willy-nilly around in confusion, excitement and shock. The fire Chief, a large fat man who should have retired 10 years ago, who had just arrived, stared with his mouth half open. Some by-standing idiot asked him if he thought the girl was still alive.
Henry, the bus driver and someone else who should have retired a long time ago, was in a state of denial. He blabbered on continually to anyone who would listen that the girl hadn’t been there. He hadn’t even seen anyone standing anywhere by the street, let alone in the street. You just don’t miss seeing people in a small town like you do in a large city.
The familiar blare of the siren echoed in the distance down highway 101, followed shortly by the red strobe lights of the sheriff’s truck joining the kaleidoscope of flashing colors of the fire truck. Towering pines of dark green swayed in the wind as people turned to watch.
The green vintage `63 Dodge truck rumbled to a stop and two figures jumped out. Scary and unexpected as this event was, the town people were in an excited, almost gleeful state. Shop owners had walked out with their shoppers to view the carnage like it was a parade on Fourth of July. Nothing ever happened here in the quiet little town of Neilton, population 634, Washington, just south of Lake Quinault.
The sheriff followed by his companion, walked passed the hundreds of questions thrown at them and walked over to the fat fire Chief who had removed his helmet and was scratching his thin mousy brown hair.
“Fred, what do we got?”
“Sheriff. Miss.” The chief said to the two while he continued to stare bewildered at the two vehicles in the wreck. “I ain’t never seen nothing like this before.”
“Where is the body?” the sheriff asked. His companion moved past him up to the bus and car.
“It’s still sandwiched in there. We was waiting for you and Doc Ronald to show up.”
“You are doing a fine job Fred.”
“Thank ya sheriff. No one knows who da girl is or where she come frum. Henry swears this side of his mutd`rs left fist he never saw the girl. She was just there. Kind`a like she just popped into existence, all in the wrong spot. Not a prettie way to go out that is for sure.”
“Thanks Fred. Try to see if you can get some of these people out of here could you? I better go take a look.”
The sheriff moved around the back of the yellow school bus and walked up to the point of impact. Wrecks weren’t anything new to him. He had seen hundreds. He had been in at least half of them too.
“F…” The swear word started to come out but he never finished it.
Coming around the front of the bus he saw what all the commotion was about. There, pinned between the front of the bus and a rusty old blue `82 DeVilles Cadillac was the body of a young woman. Her head and top torso was on top of the trunk on the Cadillac while her hips and lower legs were lost in twisted mess of chrome metal and flesh.
Problem was there wasn’t enough blood. He expected more. The sheriff looked up across to the other side to his companion and gave her a questioning raise of his right eyebrow. The crowd looked on.
He jumped up on the back on the car and slid over to get a better look. Taking out some surgical gloves he reached over and began to examine the body. The girl’s left hand, the side the sheriff was on, was trapped down in the metal while her right hand laid half severed on the trunk. Her body and head was face down covered by a mess of long curly red hair. The girl was oddly wearing what looked to be pajamas. Carefully, he lifted her hair out of the way and lifted the head to take a look.
“Sh#t!”
He momentarily forgot himself and dropped the head. It banged back down.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He lied. This dead girl was a part of the reason why he was here and why Mellisa was mad at him but he was sure she didn’t know this girl. No one in this po-dunk town should know her. What the hell was she doing here?
“Come up here and help me out will you.”
Mellisa jumped up and slid carefully over. The fire chief came around the bus with a camera round his neck to stand where she had been.
Together the sheriff and Mellisa eased the body up to take a better look.
She was dead, there was no doubt about that with the state of her bruised face. But there were some weird things going on. On the girl’s forehead was a picture of a five point star drawn on by what looked like a metallic blue magic marker. There was also some writing on her chest that could be seen just about her nightgown written with the same color. Mellisa reached over and pulled down the cloth. It spelled out the word ‘WENDY’.
“Chief, can you get up here and take some pictures?” The sheriff called.
“You think her name is Wendy?” Mellisa asked.
“Nope.” He replied as the chief started snapping some shots.
“How do you know?”
“I will tell you later.” He was looking at the dirt smear on the front of her nightgown. “Here, hold the body for the chief, will you? I want to check something out.”
The sheriff grabbed a mirror on the front of the flat nose school bus and jumped up onto on top. His boots landed with an echoing thud on the roof of the yellow bus. It was a flat top metal riveted bus you would see anywhere in the county. The difference here was there was a dirty indent in the roof, barely noticeably except for the pool of dried blood and the words written over and over.
“Fly PETER PAN Fly.
Barett Coontail, the new sheriff in the little town of Neilton Washington, had a murder on his hands.
But the storm was the last thing on everyone’s mind. People stood around stunned at what they were seeing. Traffic, if one could call a bus and twelve cars traffic, was stopped in the middle of the road in every which direction. Truth was anyone could easily go around if they wanted but morbid fascination kept them there. The entire population kids from the local school who were coming home from school in the bus were moving about everywhere. Some sat on the side of the street crying while other ran willy-nilly around in confusion, excitement and shock. The fire Chief, a large fat man who should have retired 10 years ago, who had just arrived, stared with his mouth half open. Some by-standing idiot asked him if he thought the girl was still alive.
Henry, the bus driver and someone else who should have retired a long time ago, was in a state of denial. He blabbered on continually to anyone who would listen that the girl hadn’t been there. He hadn’t even seen anyone standing anywhere by the street, let alone in the street. You just don’t miss seeing people in a small town like you do in a large city.
The familiar blare of the siren echoed in the distance down highway 101, followed shortly by the red strobe lights of the sheriff’s truck joining the kaleidoscope of flashing colors of the fire truck. Towering pines of dark green swayed in the wind as people turned to watch.
The green vintage `63 Dodge truck rumbled to a stop and two figures jumped out. Scary and unexpected as this event was, the town people were in an excited, almost gleeful state. Shop owners had walked out with their shoppers to view the carnage like it was a parade on Fourth of July. Nothing ever happened here in the quiet little town of Neilton, population 634, Washington, just south of Lake Quinault.
The sheriff followed by his companion, walked passed the hundreds of questions thrown at them and walked over to the fat fire Chief who had removed his helmet and was scratching his thin mousy brown hair.
“Fred, what do we got?”
“Sheriff. Miss.” The chief said to the two while he continued to stare bewildered at the two vehicles in the wreck. “I ain’t never seen nothing like this before.”
“Where is the body?” the sheriff asked. His companion moved past him up to the bus and car.
“It’s still sandwiched in there. We was waiting for you and Doc Ronald to show up.”
“You are doing a fine job Fred.”
“Thank ya sheriff. No one knows who da girl is or where she come frum. Henry swears this side of his mutd`rs left fist he never saw the girl. She was just there. Kind`a like she just popped into existence, all in the wrong spot. Not a prettie way to go out that is for sure.”
“Thanks Fred. Try to see if you can get some of these people out of here could you? I better go take a look.”
The sheriff moved around the back of the yellow school bus and walked up to the point of impact. Wrecks weren’t anything new to him. He had seen hundreds. He had been in at least half of them too.
“F…” The swear word started to come out but he never finished it.
Coming around the front of the bus he saw what all the commotion was about. There, pinned between the front of the bus and a rusty old blue `82 DeVilles Cadillac was the body of a young woman. Her head and top torso was on top of the trunk on the Cadillac while her hips and lower legs were lost in twisted mess of chrome metal and flesh.
Problem was there wasn’t enough blood. He expected more. The sheriff looked up across to the other side to his companion and gave her a questioning raise of his right eyebrow. The crowd looked on.
He jumped up on the back on the car and slid over to get a better look. Taking out some surgical gloves he reached over and began to examine the body. The girl’s left hand, the side the sheriff was on, was trapped down in the metal while her right hand laid half severed on the trunk. Her body and head was face down covered by a mess of long curly red hair. The girl was oddly wearing what looked to be pajamas. Carefully, he lifted her hair out of the way and lifted the head to take a look.
“Sh#t!”
He momentarily forgot himself and dropped the head. It banged back down.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He lied. This dead girl was a part of the reason why he was here and why Mellisa was mad at him but he was sure she didn’t know this girl. No one in this po-dunk town should know her. What the hell was she doing here?
“Come up here and help me out will you.”
Mellisa jumped up and slid carefully over. The fire chief came around the bus with a camera round his neck to stand where she had been.
Together the sheriff and Mellisa eased the body up to take a better look.
She was dead, there was no doubt about that with the state of her bruised face. But there were some weird things going on. On the girl’s forehead was a picture of a five point star drawn on by what looked like a metallic blue magic marker. There was also some writing on her chest that could be seen just about her nightgown written with the same color. Mellisa reached over and pulled down the cloth. It spelled out the word ‘WENDY’.
“Chief, can you get up here and take some pictures?” The sheriff called.
“You think her name is Wendy?” Mellisa asked.
“Nope.” He replied as the chief started snapping some shots.
“How do you know?”
“I will tell you later.” He was looking at the dirt smear on the front of her nightgown. “Here, hold the body for the chief, will you? I want to check something out.”
The sheriff grabbed a mirror on the front of the flat nose school bus and jumped up onto on top. His boots landed with an echoing thud on the roof of the yellow bus. It was a flat top metal riveted bus you would see anywhere in the county. The difference here was there was a dirty indent in the roof, barely noticeably except for the pool of dried blood and the words written over and over.
“Fly PETER PAN Fly.
Barett Coontail, the new sheriff in the little town of Neilton Washington, had a murder on his hands.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Death run and Death run II
One of the Under gound sports that the Brothers participated in was the Death run. It was a no holds barred race from Seattle to San Diego, the Brothers went as a team. Dave drove his car, Utah and Rick drove the "Grunting Doberman" our big black Peterbuilt semi, with a trailer attached, and Barett drove his motorcycle. The first few miles were a combat zone, automatic gunfire, caltrops on the road, lots of bumping and rubbing. The Brothers manage to make a break from the crowd and with Barett running in the front and the Rig taking the back, Protecting Dave and the car they pulled into a nice lead and hauled on down the road, minus some minor gun play and sang jumping off the rig onto another truck and destroying the steering and radiator, then jumping off, things went quiet until the last 5 miles. There was a mad dash for the finish line, someone launched a RPG and riped up the road. Utah managed to get the Rig ahead, and did a jackknife on the road. Tires squelling and rubber burning the "Grunting Doberman" jerked to a stop, blocking the whole road, building to bulding. Dave leaned out the window of his car and shot the tires out of the car in front of him and speed past the finish line. Having won the contest and large cash prize, the Brothers spent most of the money, fixing and upgrading the rig and Daves car. One of the down sides to the whole race was that they made lots of enemies, some would come back later for revenge.
Death run II was under the same idea, but it was run through Death Valley up to Tahoe, they ended up blowing the engine on the " Grunting Doberman" but Dave managed to win again. They have not been invited back to run again, mostly they are smaller races in the desert away from towns and people, run by the mafia.
Death run II was under the same idea, but it was run through Death Valley up to Tahoe, they ended up blowing the engine on the " Grunting Doberman" but Dave managed to win again. They have not been invited back to run again, mostly they are smaller races in the desert away from towns and people, run by the mafia.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Barett as a Sheriff
During some down time, Barett went for some rest at a safehouse/farm he keeps up in the north country about 50 miles inland from the coast. ( truth is he was laying low to let some of the heat blow over, due to some unfortunate circumstances.) It's a small 40 acre plot outside of the town some 5 miles on a dirt road. There is a small 2-bedroom farmhouse, a carriage house converted to a garage and a large red barn plus various other small out buildings on the property, an overrun apple orchard and garden on the back side of the house and a horse corral next to the barn. There is a small stream that runs across the back with a pond, lots of pine trees and overgrown fields. Barett has run video cameras and motion detectors around the property, just in case. He's converted the root cellar into a weapons locker/ exercise room and had dug a small 24" tunnel from there out to the carriage house/ garage for quick exits. He keeps at the property a modified toyota land cruiser ( 1972 ) and some motorcycles, trailers and tractors, and a old 1950's farm truck he fixed up. Having found himself with lots of spare time, and low on money, he joined the volunteer fire department under a alias he kept around. When they saw his Toyota landcruiser, and his general knowledge of first aid and skills, he was asked to join the county seach and rescue. ( there is a small mountain lake and forest that people get lost or hurt in every summer) That meant being a reserve deputy, he did because it looked like fun. Besides, he thought, what is the best way to be unseen, is by being with the lookers. Things went well for about 3 months, then Mellisa moved up for the summer to stay with him. Right after Mellisa moved in the local sheriff and his deputy ( the sheriffs nephew ) quit the force over some argument with the county council. The county council begged Barett to be the temp sheriff until they could find a new one, so now here he was the local sheriff. Finding the whole situation to be rather ironic, he ran with it.
The county council waived his background check, because he was already a deputy, and gave him the keys to the small sheriffs office and jail cell at the back of the county building in town. He was in need of the money, due to some oversight on his part. You see Barett was being clever with his money, he put it in a trust fund, bought the farm and other things under the trust, to shake the trail of anyone looking for him. then the trust would deal out any payments and taxes. He put most of his money in that way but didn't leave any to live on, food and gas, and so forth. So the sheriff job was good for that part and it kept him doing things. Come to find out ammo was free with the job and he spent at least a hour a day at the range, and two hours working out and doing training. He also got the sheriff's truck to use, a stock 3/4 ton Dodge crew cab diesel, Barett did some modifications on to make more powerful and useful.
He didn't spend to much time arresting people, but he did a lot of prowling and growling, checking things out, watching the wanted posts on the fax. Spying on people that he thought were suspicious and getting to know the area well.
The county council waived his background check, because he was already a deputy, and gave him the keys to the small sheriffs office and jail cell at the back of the county building in town. He was in need of the money, due to some oversight on his part. You see Barett was being clever with his money, he put it in a trust fund, bought the farm and other things under the trust, to shake the trail of anyone looking for him. then the trust would deal out any payments and taxes. He put most of his money in that way but didn't leave any to live on, food and gas, and so forth. So the sheriff job was good for that part and it kept him doing things. Come to find out ammo was free with the job and he spent at least a hour a day at the range, and two hours working out and doing training. He also got the sheriff's truck to use, a stock 3/4 ton Dodge crew cab diesel, Barett did some modifications on to make more powerful and useful.
He didn't spend to much time arresting people, but he did a lot of prowling and growling, checking things out, watching the wanted posts on the fax. Spying on people that he thought were suspicious and getting to know the area well.
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