Conflagration

XXVII

Bryce waited for the helicopter to pass before he leaned over and snorted another line. He felt the sensation of blood running from his nostril when he'd finished but there was none on the back of his hand after he ran it across his face. There were whispers in the walls and every few seconds he would look over at Crystal to see if it was her speaking but it was not.

Yellow light through the curtains. Bryce grabbed the AR and went out the back door. He'd taken his shoes off long before and walked through the tall grass outside barefoot although he did not seem to notice. The man lumbering toward the house had nearly made it to the front door. Bryce raised the rifle and pulled back on the trigger.

Nothing.

He looked down and saw that the safety was still flicked back.

"Oh shit."

"Bryce? That you?"

"Boots?"

"Yeah. Who'd you think it is? Is that a gun?"

"It's a rifle."

"Whatchu doin with that? You aimin to shoot me?"

"I don't know. You could be anyone tip toein through the dark like that."

"It's my damn house."

"Well you ain't shot so I guess there ain't a problem."

"That don't make me feel no better."

"Get your ass inside."

By the time they entered Crystal had shaped up another line and she took it front of them. She leaned back for a moment and looked at them, eyes wide and rolling inside her head.

"You look like you're ridin Old Sparky," Boots said. He reached for the half gallon of vodka on the kitchen table. Both hands shook as he held it up to his lips.

"What's your problem?" Bryce asked.

Boots grimaced. "I got into a bit of a tussle in town."

"A what?"

"Saw that boy that was with Sam down at the campsite the other night. Had the shotgun with me in the cab. Tried to clip him so I could bring him back here and see if he knew where he was hidin out."

"You shot him?"

Boots winced as he swallowed and shook his head. "I think I missed him."

"You shot at him."

"Uhuh."

"In town. Tonight. Wearin them damn flip flops."

"They're sandals."

"Boots. The police department is in town. There was a search they were organizin out there with all the Sheriff's boys."

"So?"

"So? So how come you ain't swiss cheese?"

"I was out of there fore anyone knew a thing."

Bryce looked at him and then at the window. Voices creeping through the fog like sirens. "Did they follow you back?"

"I just told you. No one knew nothin."

Bryce ignored him and looked out into the meadow beyond the front door.

Stratus clouds formed like silver harp strings overhead. The sound of cicadas and wind through maple leaves. He stood there until he was sure that there was nothing in front of him other than darkness and then he went back inside.

"Y'all just been sittin here?" Boots asked.

"Gotta find a way to get back on the Sheriff's good side."

Boots shook his head. "Y'all need a damn miracle."

"Yeah. We been thinkin."

"Y'all been snortin."

"There is such a thing as doin two things at once."

"Not those two things."

Boots walked over to the couch and sat down beside Crystal. Her eyes were still gaping towards the kitchen but there was no longer anyone there.

Bryce fell into the lounge chair beside them. His legs continued to dance in place after he'd sat. Jaw swinging. "Old boy's gotta have somethin he wants. A man with that much business has to have a few headaches."

"Yeah. You."

"Besides me."

Boots leaned back and fished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He lit one of the former. "He ain't got much competition with drugs. Just about sets the price for everything around here."

"Yep."

"What about them hookers."

"What about them?"

"Y'all can do somethin about the competition on that front."

"Whatchu mean competition?"

"There's that other hooker outfit west of town. Figure they take about half his business away."

"Where?"

"Few miles into the woods. They got another operation run by folks who come up from Knoxville. Bring girls through and what not."

"They ain't his people?"

"Hell no. They're traffickers. Girls they have are snatched up and brought there. The Sheriff has done his fair share but he wouldn't touch somethin like that."

"I ain't never heard a word about them before."

"They come through several years back. I heard the Sheriff ain't too fond of havin them around. Heard that if it were up to him he'd run in there and shoot all of them and that would be that."

"You're sure about that."

Boots shrugged.

"How come he ain't?"

"I don't know. Business. Goin in there and massacrin all them'll probably catch the attention of some folks. Be hard to talk himself out of that one."

"But not if it happened tonight."

"Watchu mean?" Boots asked.

"He's in town with all them people searchin ain't he? If a few traffickers wind up dead in the woods it ain't like they'll be comin after him for it."

"No they would not."

"They there tonight?"

"On a Sunday? Typically."

He looked at Boots sideways. "How come you know?"

"Cause I know. They charge less than the Troop."

"You're a damn disgrace. You know that?"

"Them are strong words from someone crashin on my couch."

"You still got that little gun of yours?"

"Yeah. I still got it."

"How many traffickers hold up out there?"

"Two. Sometimes three."

"They armed?"

"One might have a pistol. I ain't see more than that."

Bryce looked back at Crystal. Pupils so wide he could no longer see the blue in her eyes. She nodded.

"Them cops in town. They see your truck?"

"They ain't seen nothin."

"You gunna be able to handle us shootin these guys?"

"I'll be alright."

"Good. Go on and bring the truck around."

Boots turned and went back for the door.

"And Boots, fore you go," Bryce said. "Go ahead and grab that gun for Crystal."