“Put on the heavy gray socks,” he said.
“These?” she said, and he could hear the fear in her voice.
“Yes, baby.” Jake nodded his head also.
Jake cranked the truck and checked his gauges. Half a tank of gas. Plenty. They needed to make it to the Dummy Line and get the hell out of there. He guessed he had about twenty miles to reach a county road. His cell phone probably wouldn’t work again until he got back to Highway 17. He wondered about the big mud hole that he knew lay ahead as he dropped the truck into gear and drove forward.
Jake couldn’t get the image of the shooting out of his mind. He couldn’t believe he had shot that guy. He had no choice, but this was unbelievable. What a nightmare! Deep down he knew he had made the right decision. But still he questioned whether it could it have been avoided. Should he have stepped out of the shadows and shown his gun? He’d never know. Who were those guys? What did they want? Why did Katy have to come on this trip…of all the trips he had been on! Katy, my dear, sweet Katy. He shuddered to think what might have happened to her. Morgan was going to be pissed.
“Dad, where are my boots?” Katy asked.
Jake realized he had left them in the camper. “Damn,” he said under his breath. He had placed them in the camper so they would be warm in the morning. In all the confusion of leaving, he’d remembered her clothes but forgotten the boots.
“That’s OK…I left them in the camper. You won’t need them. We’re going straight to the sheriff’s office,” he said, trying to sound confident.
Suddenly a long, deeply rutted mud hole loomed in front of them. His headlights would only illuminate part of it. Years of heavy logging trucks had really rutted this part of the road. The planted pine trees lined the edge of the road like a wall, preventing him from going around.
Jake looked at the hundred-yard stretch of mud. He had no idea how deep it was. He had a winch, so he figured he would try to make it as far as he could, then winch his truck the rest of the way. It was his only logical option. He didn’t know if they were chasing him, but he knew he couldn’t go back the way he came.
“Fasten your seat belt, Katy, and hang on,” he warned as he lined up the truck on the mud hole.
Shifting into four-low, Jake decided to try the right side. He punched the gas and did his best to keep the truck headed straight. The mud grips were biting chunks of red mud, slinging it everywhere. He turned on the windshield wipers. Katy covered her eyes with her hands. The truck’s momentum slowed, but they continued to make progress. The ruts pulled them to the left; then suddenly, with thirty yards to go, the frame hung, slamming them to a stop. Jake tried reversing. No use. He cut his tires left, then right-nothing.
“Katy, I’ve got to get out and pull the winch cable to one of those trees,” he said, pointing down the road. “You stay right here. Everything’s OK. Why don’t you put in your Hillary Duff tape?”
“I’m OK…can I help?” she asked and meant it.
“Sure, let me go see what I need,” Jake replied. He had no intention of letting Katy get out of the truck.
Jake opened his door and stepped into the cold, muddy water. The mud was so deep it nearly pulled off his boots every time he took a step. He ignored the cold. He felt around inside the gull-wing toolbox until he found his flashlight. Then he found the winch control. After slogging to the front of the truck, he laid the controller on the hood. He turned the winch to Free Spool, then started pulling out the cable as fast as he could trudge through the mud. Finally, after wrapping the cable around a tree just past the mud hole, he plodded back to the truck. He inserted the control into the winch, ran the cable over the hood, and threw it in the driver’s side window. Climbing in, he gave the engine some gas, put the transmission in neutral, and then flipped the switch on the winch control. He watched the voltmeter spike and the cable move.
“Yeah, baby. Yeah! Come on! You can do it!” Jake said aloud, nervously tapping the steering wheel with his hand.
When Jake realized he was wet from the knees down, he was cold. He turned on the heater and tried to put it out of his mind. Maybe I’ve got some dry clothes in the toolbox, he thought, watching the cable become taut and begin dragging the truck down the road. Jake loved his winch, especially tonight.
Slowly the truck was being dragged down the road. Jake fought the urge to put it in gear to help out. He feared getting the cable hung up under the truck. He knew this was the safest way to winch out. He kept the truck’s RPMs up to prevent draining the battery. Come on! Hurry! Please hurry. As the truck eased out of the final bit of mud, Jake hopped out and looked back. He could see lights coming through the woods. His heart jumped into his throat. He ran to unhook the winch line from the tree, cutting his right hand on the cable. Without waiting for the winch to rewind the remaining twenty feet of cable, he quickly wrapped it around the brush guard on the front of the truck and jumped in the driver’s seat.
The headlights were closing in. None of the thugs’ trucks that he had seen would fare any better in this mud hole than his. Gettin’ through that should keep ‘em busy for a while, thought Jake, as he stomped the gas pedal.
“Tanner, would you pleeeeease put the top up? I can see my breath it’s so cold!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
They were bouncing along the old road listening to John Cougar Mellencamp singing “Jack and Diane.” Elizabeth loved old songs. Tanner knew it. They were enjoying each other’s company and feeling very alive-the way you do when you’re a teenager in love.
“Sure…anything else?” he asked, braking to a stop. She knew he would do anything she wanted.
“Nope, that’ll do it…need some help?” She smiled, pulling her fleece jacket a little tighter and putting her hands in the pockets.
“Nope, I can have it up in a sec. Find us another good song,” he said, jumping out.
It took Tanner only a few minutes to put up the top and fasten everything into place, including the doors.
Elizabeth loved his Jeep in the summer or on any warm day; but at times like these, she wished he had a car or a truck. Anything with a solid roof would make her happy.
Tanner climbed in and smiled at her. “How’s that?”
“Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Tanner ground the Jeep’s gears as he tried to find first. Suddenly the Jeep lurched forward as he let the clutch out a little too fast. He loved it when she kissed him. It drove him crazy.
Elizabeth changed the radio stations and found George Strait crooning “Marina Del Rey.” Tanner couldn’t help but sing along.
Elizabeth laughed playfully, and when the song was over she said with a serious expression, “A little pitchy in places, but overall you gave a good effort.” She never missed an America Idol episode.
Tanner smiled as he slowed the Jeep down at the big yellow gate. The gate had a combination lock on it to allow any of the adjacent landowners access. The combination was 1992-the last year Alabama had won a national football championship. Tanner wondered how many gates in the state had that simple combination. He had just swung the gate open when he saw headlights approaching rapidly. Rapidly was an understatement. The vehicle was flying. Tanner looked at Elizabeth. Her head was down as she searched the radio for another song.
Tanner swallowed hard, and told Elizabeth to look up.
The recent rain made tracking simple. Reese was careful to stay on the high ground since Johnny Lee’s truck was built for speed, not off-roading. He was confident that Sweat and Tiny would block the Dummy Line. I’m gonna make that sumbitch pay-dearly. Sweat will run him straight to me or I’ll push him to Sweat. Either way he’s dead.