Killer Cargo. Dana Mentink

When he righted himself, the hair drooped over his eyes like a curtain. “Man. You scared me. I think I might have had a heart attack. Where did you come from?”

      She suppressed the urge to shake him. “From the plane that landed an hour ago on your runway over there. Do you have a phone?”

      “Uh, yeah. But it doesn’t work. You don’t have a cell?”

      “Mine’s dead.”

      He chewed a section of the candy rope and gestured to the mountains. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Probably wouldn’t get a good signal here. It’s like living in the bottom of a well.”

      She looked out the filthy window. The black sedan pulled onto the runway. She turned back to the kid, reading the name tag on his jumpsuit. “Look, Jacko. I’m in a lot of trouble and I’ve got to get out of here now. I need a car, truck, motorcycle, anything. Can you help me, please?”

      His eyes widened. “You must be in deep. I can give you a ride on my moped at quitting time. How ’ bout that?”

      Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two men get out of the car and head toward her plane.

      “No, no. I need to take off right now. Please. Isn’t there a car I can borrow? I thought I saw one out back. It’s really important. I promise I’ll return it.” Her voice trembled.

      “Out back? Oh, you mean the Demon.”

      Maria’s breath became shallow and her hands started to sweat. The men were entering her plane and when they figured out she’d opened the box they would head for the shack. She knew their secret. There was no way they’d let her get away. She looked around frantically. Where could she hide? There was nothing but an old card chair and a two-drawer filing cabinet overflowing with papers.

      Jacko extracted a bottle of Gatorade from a foam cooler and took a slug of the green liquid. “Let me think a minute.” His eyeballs did a 360. “Yeah, that might work. That’s my cousin Duke’s car out there. He’s in jail for another six months, probably, not likely to get paroled early on account of he’s not a model prisoner. Maybe you could borrow it, if you get it back here by November.”

      Her excitement soared. “Yes, yes. I’ll take anything.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Wait just a minute. You got some money? Duke would want something for his wheels. He’s gonna need some start-up cash when he gets out of the joint. The car’s a collectible you know. It’s a ’72 Dodge Demon. Sweet ride, great interior, the works.”

      She dug into her backpack with trembling hands and came up with a hundred-dollar bill. “How’s this?” Out of the corner of her eye she could see bags of kibble and kitty litter hurtling out of the open plane hatch. They split open on impact, sending debris flying everywhere.

      “Oh, I don’t know. A hundred bucks? That doesn’t seem like much for a classic automobile. Plus gas. Gas ain’t cheap now, lady. Fortunately, Duke filled it up right before he got arrested. He’s gonna expect it that way when he shows up. And then there’s wear and tear, of course, and the oil will need to be changed when you return it.”

      She tossed another fifty. Her voice rose to a near scream. “Please. That only leaves me a few bucks. You don’t want the rabbit to starve, do you? The poor guy only has three legs.”

      He twirled the red rope thoughtfully as he regarded Hank. “Three legs? Weird, man. Reminds me of my uncle Vic. He’s only got three fingers on his left hand. Great bowler though. The league champion in Chauncy. I watched him last weekend and he was smokin’. Won a trophy and everything. I guess one hundred fifty will be okay.”

      Jacko fished around in a desk drawer. “Here are the keys. Have a nice trip, lady. Don’t forget to bring it back before November.”

      Maria grabbed the keys and the cage, and raced out the back door. The rain was coming down in sheets. Hank hunkered into a soggy ball wedged in a wooden corner. The electric-blue car was parked under a spindly tree. It was caked with dirt but the tires were good, she noted with a surge of relief. She jammed the keys in the lock and turned. It wouldn’t budge.

      “So much for a collector’s car, you rusty piece of junk.” Another savage twist and the door opened. She flipped the front seat forward and shoved Hank’s crate in the back. Duke wasn’t going to appreciate the gouge in his leather upholstery but he was the least of her worries. The sound of angry voices floated through the door of the shack.

      Maria turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over and sputtered to a stop. “Come on, come on. Start, car. Please, please, please.” She twisted the key so hard she was afraid it might snap off.

      The door of the shed opened, and two burly men stepped into the rain. They scanned the area. Maria crouched as low as she could manage and tried again. “God, I’m going to need some help starting this car.”

      Her fingers were clammy as she gritted her teeth and turned the key again. The motor sputtered to life. “Yes!” she shouted. “Hang on, Hank. This is going to be bumpy.”

      The men swiveled their heads toward the noise. The taller one reached inside his jacket. The shorter one with the build of a fire hydrant broke into a run.

      Maria slammed the car into drive and peeled out from under the tree.

      Through the smear of dirt and moisture on the windshield, she could see the men’s mouths drop open in surprise. The tall one had a couple of teeth missing on the bottom. He shouted something that she couldn’t decipher.

      The car screeched around the side of the shack, tires slipping on the wet gravel. The men turned to follow her progress. A sudden whistle of air rushed through a round hole in the passenger’s-side window. Two more appeared in the front windshield.

      Her jaw dropped open as her brain fought to make sense of the situation. “They’re shooting at us!” She wheeled the car onto the tarmac and floored the gas pedal. For a moment she considered doing a tight U-turn and driving right back into Tall Man and Fire Hydrant. That would really teach them a lesson. Of course, that would also give them a splendid opportunity to kill her and Hank. Just take the chance God gave you to survive, Maria. Get out of here now.

      She squished down as far as she could in the seat, expecting at any moment the agony of a bullet crashing into her skull. Then she headed toward the only way out of the nightmare: the winding road that the murderous men had taken on their way in.

      As she started up the grade, she looked at her plane in the rearview mirror. The thought of leaving it sent a twist of pain through her heart. She had worked so hard for that beautiful machine, and it was everything to her: freedom, independence, escape. She hoped Jacko would at least close the hatch.

      She dashed the tears from her cheeks. “Goodbye, old friend. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can, I promise.”

      The rabbit sneezed from the backseat.

      “It’s okay, Hank. We escaped from those guys, and we’re on our way…somewhere.” There was only one option at the moment so she pushed ahead as fast as she could. The grade grew steeper and more wooded as the Dodge bounced along.

      Far below, the sedan was just leaving the runway.

      Like an ugly black insect it began a merciless march up the slope, heading right for them.

      TWO

      Duke must be quite a character, Maria thought in the midst of her frantic getaway. The wobbling plastic flamingo swayed on the blue velvet dashboard. She wiped her damp palms on her pants and glanced down at the gas gauge, continuing to push the car as fast as she dared on the steep road. Three-quarters of a tank. That would be enough to get them to some kind of help, provided she wasn’t overtaken before she reached it.

      The black sedan was a bigger car and she knew it wouldn’t take the grade as well as the Demon, but the men had determination stamped all over their shady mugs. The whole thing was ridiculously surreal, like a cheap dime-store novel. Did they really