As we got closer to the guard shack, I heard a noise ahead-a low rumbling. “What’s that?” I whispered.
“Engine. A big diesel.” Darla replied. “Let’s look.”
We wormed our way to the top of the snow berm and poked up our heads. A Humvee painted in desert camo was parked next to the hut. As we watched, the two guards I’d seen earlier stumbled out and piled into the Humvee. The guy driving did a clumsy five-point turn, tapping the snow berm with his front bumper and the guard shack with his rear. Then he pulled through the gate, and the passenger jumped out to close and padlock it. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hole I’d cut in the fence. But he was in a big hurry and didn’t spend any time looking around. When they started out again, the Humvee lurched forward, almost stalled, and then bounced up over the railroad embankment out of our sight.
“Did they abandon the hut?” I whispered.
Darla frowned. “I doubt it. Let’s get the bike and move on.”
“I want to check the hut first. Maybe they left some wheat.”
Darla shook her head but got the shotgun ready, anyway. I crawled along the snowbank toward the hut.
When I got there, I peeked over the windowsill. One guy in camo fatigues and a black watch cap was sitting at the table. A pile of wheat kernels was spread in front of him along with five or six purple cloth Crown Royal whisky bags. He was counting the wheat seeds and sorting them into bags. He sat facing the hut’s door but was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t see me.
I crawled back along the snow berm to Darla. “There’s only one guy in there now, and he’s got wheat.”
“I can’t shoot a guy just to get wheat.”
“Who said anything about shooting him? Just hold the shotgun on him, and I’ll tie him up or something.”
“What if he goes for his gun? Then I’ll have to shoot him.”
I shrugged. “You ready?”
“I guess.”
We crawled back to the guard shack together. Everything was still. We hid under the window. When I’d caught my breath, I peeked over the windowsill.
The guard was still messing around with his bags of wheat. We slithered around to the other side. A sliding-glass window faced the road, kind of like a fast-food drive-thru. Next to that was the door, a normal metal entry door with a lock on the handle and a deadbolt. I crawled up to it, reached up, and slowly, very slowly, tried turning the knob to see if it was locked. It was.
Darla pantomimed a kick. I shook my head. She had more confidence in my taekwondo skills than I did. Even with a perfect kick, I might not break the door, and then we’d completely lose the advantage of surprise.
I waved at Darla to follow and crawled around the shack to the opposite side. We peered through the window. The guard’s back was to us. His assault rifle dangled from his chair. He seemed to be completely absorbed in sorting the wheat. I raised my head to examine the window. It was an ordinary double hung, like the ones we’d had in my house in Cedar Falls. A brass latch at the top of the lower sash held it closed.
I ducked back below the windowsill and pantomimed my plan to Darla. She nodded after I went through it once, but I did the whole thing again just to make sure. By the time I finished, she was scowling and rolling her hand as if to say get on with it.
I held up three fingers. . two. . one.
Chapter 16
We stood simultaneously, and Darla rammed the barrel of the shotgun through the window. The clash of breaking glass shattered the stillness. The guard swiveled in his chair and yelled, “What the-”
“Hands in the air!” I bellowed.
His face tightened as he took in the broken window and shotgun.
“Get your hands up! Now!” Darla yelled.
The guard raised his hands slowly, muttering all the while, “For shit’s sake, how many times do I have to tell the captain it’s not safe to have one guy here.”
“Guess he’ll believe the next guy,” Darla said. She bashed out more of the window glass using the barrel of the shotgun. I reached through, careful to keep my arm away from the business end of the gun, and unlatched the window. Darla backed up a step so I could push open the sash.
“You gonna flense me?” the guard asked.
“Might not. You look stringy to me,” Darla said. “Hardly worth the trouble.”
“Maybe you don’t have any shells for that shotgun.”
“You can test that theory. You’ll find out the truth a millisecond before you die.” Darla moved to the side as I crawled through the window.
I stood up behind and to one side of the guard, trying to stay out of Darla’s line of fire. I took the assault rifle off the back of the chair and slung it over my shoulder.
“Hand over the wheat,” I ordered.
“Well why don’t you ram a barrel brush up my ass while you’re at it! That’s a whole week’s pay.”
“Black Lake pays you in wheat?” Darla asked.
“Only idiots take cash. There’s nowhere to spend it.”
He had a radio on his belt and a couple of leather pouches. The first one I unsnapped had an extra magazine for the rifle, which I took. In the second, I found what I really wanted: three sets of plastic zip-tie cuffs. “I’d buy the wheat from you if you promised not to report us.”
“Alex,” Darla said, complaint clear in her voice.
“Buy it with what?”
“Kale seeds. You could say you broke the window leaning back in your chair too far or something.”
“I wouldn’t know kale seeds from bird droppings. How would I know you weren’t cheating me?”
“It’s not like you have a choice,” Darla snapped.
“Hands behind your back,” I ordered. He lowered his hands behind the chair back, and I slipped the plastic cuffs over his wrists, cinching them tight. Then I used the other two sets of cuffs to affix his legs to the chair.
“I broke the window by accident and cuffed myself to the chair by accident, too?” The guard snorted.
I checked his belt and found the knife I expected on the other side. I pulled it off his belt and tossed it into the corner. I threw his radio into the corner, too. “Cut yourself free after we’re gone.”
I reached into my jacket, carefully extracting one envelope of seeds from the cloth bag. I laid it on the table in front of the guard.
“Christ,” Darla said. “Those things don’t grow on trees.”
“Sure they do.” I grinned at her. “Haven’t you ever heard of a kale tree?”
She shook her head and glared at me, but I saw a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Then she tensed up. “Shit! Somebody’s coming.” She glanced around wildly. Then she dove through the open window into the shack with me. I heard the rumble of a diesel engine and a grinding noise as the driver shifted gears.
“It’s a dump truck,” Darla said, popping up once to glance out the window. “Tall one.”
The truck pulled up alongside the guard shack. The driver’s window was so high off the ground that there was no way he could see us. An arm reached down from the truck holding a clipboard and tapped it against the glass four times.
The guard we’d cuffed started to yell, “Hey-”
Darla wrapped her hand around his mouth. “Shut. Up.” she whispered.
I took a step toward the window. But Darla had just come in through there to avoid being seen. I froze, unsure what to do.
The radio in the corner crackled to life. “Hey, Benson, quit foolin’ around. We’ve got a schedule to keep. D.C. ain’t getting any closer while you jack off.”
I had to do something. Now. I ripped the watch cap off the guard’s head and jammed it on my own. I stepped up to the window, looking down so that only the top of my head would be visible to the driver-hopefully. I slid the window open and took the clipboard. I cleared my throat and grunted, “Sorry,” like I had a cold or something.