Blood Appeal Read online

  Whether this was the place, Joyce had talked about didn’t matter. I’d found what I’d been looking for. I swung in and parked on the East Street side next to a chain-link fence. Above the Avenger stood a large neon sign displaying the bars name, “Two Steppin’ Lounge.”

  Rarely have I had the opportunity to nip a tragedy in the bud. Vigilante operations typically involved after-the-fact assassinations to resolve a problem. What were the parameters of engagement I could employ to avoid further pain and destruction of innocent life? I was the sole interpreter of my Palatini oath. If it meant straining it to the edge of justification, so be it.

  The bar’s exterior, clothed in Western Red Cedar siding, showed its wear and tear from years of service. The entrance, located on 9th Street, had a narrow unimposing doorway. Windows lined the entrance side of the building. Each one nearly blacked out by alcohol and tobacco decals, posters, and an occasional neon sign. The East Street side had no windows at all.

  Had this joint been located in Buffalo or Toronto, it would’ve been a gangster hangout. In Cassville, the place had redneck written all over it. Just the kind of place I would expect to find the likes of Duke.

  I stepped inside the door and made my way up the inclined ramp leading to the main floor. It was everything I expected it to be, dark, drab and dreary. My first impression was I’d stepped into an unfriendly cavernous pit. I’d been in a dozen places like this old watering hole, and maybe some worse. If the need arose, I wasn’t above being unfriendly too.

  I’ve always tried to maintain a positive outlook, and I saw the good news here as well. Duke was bellied up to the well-worn, but once eloquent, mahogany bar with his back to the door, and alone, just the way I wanted him. To extract someone from a public place without making a scene was impossible. The key was fishing—not hunting. A skilled master of deception with a naturally cunning aptitude was able to walk a target straight out the front door under their volition. All the target had to do was swallow the bait.

  I wanted to have our talk privately, but if Minnie had spoken with Duke, we’d likely rock-n-roll right here on the fifty-foot dance floor. My hands tightened into clinched fists. I stood at his right elbow and watched for a minute. He never looked up from his beer. From the lack of attention he paid to movement in his surroundings or entry into the bar, I surmised he wasn’t waiting for anyone else to arrive.

  Duke was a southpaw. To most people, such an observation was trivial. But, I’m not most people. Ingrained in my nature, I’ve habitually analyzed and evaluated those that have aroused my interest. I shook off my defensive posture and relaxed. Casually I slipped up to the polished bar which I guessed to be more than a hundred years old—it looked out of place in this Redneck setting. Duke sat to my left. If he reacted badly to my presence and tossed a sucker punch in my direction, he’d have to cross his body with his left to be effective. If he threw his right instead, it would be more like a warning shot that the fight was on. What he could do from a barstool didn’t concern me at all.

  “Barkeep, how about a round of drinks for Duke and me.”

  Behind the counter, a wrinkly skinned, white-haired old codger with gizzard jowls croaked out, “Whatcha drinkin’ buddy?”

  “Whatever Duke’s having is fine with me.”

  The bartender brought two glasses of the cheapest draft on tap, set one glass in front of Duke and the other in front of me. His raspy voice strained, “That’ll be two bucks.”

  I pulled out three Susan B. Anthony’s that I wanted to get rid of, and slid the coins across the counter top.

  “Keep the change, pal.”

  The old codger grumbled something, but my attention was on the seat next to me. I glanced over at Duke, who’d eyeballed me hard while I was ordering our beers. I stayed ready to react. I had my doubts he’d erupt into a full-blown fight, but I didn’t put it past him to get mouthy and make a scene. With my beer in hand, I said, “I don’t think we got off on the right foot. Maybe I don’t belong around here.” I waited for his response. Slowly, he picked up the fresh draft and took a healthy chug, downing nearly half the glass. I took a sip and pretended to like the nasty taste. I was only human. I wouldn’t be able to carry out this façade for long. Not without switching to whiskey.

  “You know I don’t like ya none, don’t ya?” It was apparent from his casual demeanor he hadn’t spoken with Minnie or she’d wised up and kept her mouth shut about my visit.

  “That’s something we’ll both have to live with until I leave.” I threw out the bait. It was a tiny morsel, but enough to give him hope that I’d soon leave Shell Knob.

  “Thought you were going to stay around here and work for the papers?”

  “Nah, it was just talk. I like the bigger cities and the action they bring.”

  “So why’d you track me down?”

  “I wasn’t looking for you. I didn’t know you were here. I’d met with Landers, the newspaper guy, and gave him a few tips on that murdered girl story. I ditched the ol’ lady and ended up here. I’m a loner and need a break now and then. That’s all.”

  A look of concern came over Duke. He stumbled with his question. I thought his uneasiness was about me, but it took on a different form. “This feller Landers, ah, he still be diggin’ up lies ‘bout that thar dead girl? I swear he ain’t got nothin’ else better to do than spin scary bogeyman tales. We knowed it were some city feller that dumped her off alongside the road then took on off. Landers just wants to sell papers. Bury it and her too. That’s what I say.” Duke stroked his short black beard with his left hand.

  For a brief moment, while Duke spoke his opinion on Jay’s motivation, my thoughts drifted to the blood that flowed like a natural spring from the ground. Suddenly, the blood burst into the air as if it were an oil geyser, filling the air with a red mist. I startled.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “No, I think I have low blood sugar.”

  “Yeah, well I want to be clear about something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Joyce is my friend and y’all ar’ together.” Duke paused. His face grimaced. His words hadn’t set well with him and had choked out slowly. “Like friends.” Conflicted, he struggled to label Joyce and my relationship. Duke wasn’t the kind of guy who chose his words wisely, but he’d made an exception. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

  Regardless of how he described the bond Joyce and I had, it wouldn’t meet up to his liking. He was between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it. He’d tried to influence our relationship, but he’d failed miserably.

  “I can’t do much ‘bout y’all bein’ friends. That’s her doin’, so I’m gonna overlook my feelin’s ‘bout you.”

  “Joyce will appreciate that.”

  Admittedly, at the forefront of my mind were thoughts of leading Duke out the door without anyone having noticed us together. To do so, I’d have to entice him. One of the great things about Duke was the immense size of his ego. Sugar coated words quickly attracted him. I bought another round of drinks and laid the sticky words on thick. “Duke, you’re a standup guy. You spoke from the heart, and I want to compliment you on that.” I found my presentation more difficult than I’d anticipated. “You’ve been a close friend of Joyce and that means a lot. From what Joyce has told me about you, you’re a natural born leader in the community.”

  Over the next half hour, I expounded on what he was not, as if he possessed those attributes. His behavior toward me had become favorable as we made headway amending our rocky past.

  My goal to walk him out the front door was within reach. Then his education would follow. Before we ended our talk, I wanted him to comprehend he was a worthless, wife-abusing, piece of human garbage that had manipulated, dominated and abused Minnie. His comprehension of how he’d failed as a husband and led to her destruction was paramount to the lesson.

  “Ya knowed, we’d sure ‘nuff got off on a wrong foot. I’d like to make it up to y’all. How ‘bout I show you ‘round my camp one of
these days?”

  My hackles rose higher than before. It was the opportunity I’d been looking for, but something didn’t feel right. My motives drove my actions, but what had brought about this change in his behavior?” Tasty-sweet sounding words weren’t enough. Remembering Duke’s Jekyll and Hyde personality coupled with the insincere tone to his words brought caution to the forefront. Maybe it was his turn to fatten the calf.

  I was a sucker for a good game. I put a smile on my face and mustered all the excitement I could. “That would be great.”

  Duke perked up, “Hell, ya ain’t doin’ nothin’ right now, let’s take a trip over thar way.” He gave a nod toward the exit with his head and said, “I can show you the ropes.” A feeling crept over me as he spoke the word ropes. It was exactly his intention.

  I wanted to know more about the Alliance and Vigilance Committee. The only way that would happen was to get close to the source. I shared much of the same ideology as the Second Amendment Patriots and the prepper survivalists. From what I knew about the Vigilance Committee they, too, bore similarities to the Palatini. But, Duke’s words were cheap and echoed with a hollow ring. He was every bit as insincere as I was, and conceivably as good at spreading lies. Maybe Duke thought he could make a sucker out of me, but he didn’t know the real me. It was the Ace up my sleeve with whatever plan he was hatching. He’d tried to put my mind at ease, but had only succeeded in heightening my awareness to potential danger. The set up wasn’t good. If things got out of control, I was without my weapon.

  I wasn’t buying what he shoveled in my direction, but I couldn’t resist the challenge. I mentally overlooked the pun as I replied, “Sure, I’m game.” Duke had set himself up as the hunter and hunters always feel superior to their prey. If I were Bambi and Duke the hunter, it would be true. Duke had plenty of deer heads, and antlers mounted on the walls of his house that proved he was capable. But he didn’t have bodies in a bag. In our game, Duke had failed to consider that the hunter and the hunted were one in the same.

  We finished our beer and left the bar. Once outside, Duke pointed to his pickup and said, “Jump in.” Exactly the approach I would’ve taken if I’d planned to do him bodily harm. We backed out of the parking space and headed south.

  If timing was everything, then the right place was equally important. Duke’s rig wasn’t a choice place to conduct business; neither was the compound. I’d have to endure his arrogance and constant self-aggrandizing until we were on the return trip to the bar. That would be the ideal time to hammer out our differences. The route to Cassville would take us through the same remote backcountry by which we’d traveled. The darkness of night would provide me with the perfect ally. All I needed was an excuse to stop. At that point, I’d kick around a few of my ideas with Duke and see where that took us.

  First, I’d deal with whatever hair-brained scheme he’d hatched, which piqued my interest. He hadn’t cooked his plan up during the past hour at the bar. It was an idea that had lain dormant in his mind for days or weeks then brought to fruition through opportunity. This new friendship pact he’d so quickly agreed to merely smooth the waters to carry out his plan. I wasn’t paranoid; I was prepared. Duke had no way of knowing he wasn’t the only one working behind the scenes.

  While I waited for the right time and place, I’d ask questions about the Vigilance Committee. If they were a force for good as were the Palatini, I wanted to help them achieve success. Minnie was aware that I’d snooped through the training camp on the day Joyce, and I visited, but Duke remained unaware. Then again, maybe she’d told him. I had no way to be certain.

  The compound was home turf. If he intended to unfold his plan, this was likely his best opportunity. There was a point to be made for holding the home field advantage. The cyclone fencing and concertina wire ensured our time would be uninterrupted. My gut clenched as I reacted to instinct. The prospect for an exciting evening was only starting.

  Duke’s setup would be simple because he was the product of a simple mind. I was poised to react when he launched his plan. I’d seize the initiative before he was able to bring it to fruition. Under no circumstance was I willing to allow him to demonstrate a weapon or display one. That’s how accidents happen. An unexplainable weapons misfire and I’d end up with a hole in my head. Escaping the blame would only require him to convince a jury of his peers that he was innocent. I wasn’t going to chance that happening.

  We’d barely cleared the outskirts of Cassville when Duke started to rattle out the nuts and bolts of his survival camp operation. Most of what he said was old news. In a matter of minutes, Duke had gone from standard survival topics to weird. “You never heard ‘bout the zombie apocalypse?”

  I guarded my sarcasm as best I could, but zombies? I was at a loss for words. His IQ took a nose dive, and in my estimation, he couldn’t afford to lose any points. Nonetheless, I shined him on. “Sure, who hasn’t?”

  “Well, it’s a comin’.” Duke’s deep set eyes flickered from the reflection of dashboard lighting.

  I took from his response that he was sincere. None of the brochures alluded to an imminent zombie invasion. He had an inside track on what most people didn’t know. “Yeah, they’re like half dead people or something, right.”

  Duke continued, “Most city folks don’t know what I’m tellin’ you, but zombies ain’t dead nothin’. They be to livin’ just like you and me.”

  His smile drifted up one side of his mouth and into an arrogant sneer. “Think ‘bout this here, when the economy collapses, and everybody is fallin’ part, what’s people gonna do?”

  “Starve.”

  “I don’t think so. They’ll turn into rovin’ bands of parasites tryin’ to escape starvation.”

  Duke did have a point and patiently waited for my comment. Through catastrophic events, the weak, elderly, feeble, sick, and very young were weeded out first. It was part of the cycle of Nature. The concept Darwin had put forth—survival of the fittest. Duke doubted that anyone caught unprepared would be capable of lasting until post-apocalyptic Nature preserved the remnants of the human race, but I intended to be one of them. “Then they’ll die as scavengers and bottom-feeders.”

  “You be right ‘bout that; they’ll die alright. What’s a gonna happen, hungry folks gonna empty out from big cities and into our areas, scavenging food, and water wherever they can find it. There’ll be hordes at first. Soon they’ll become like zombies, sick, diseased, and cannibalistic. They’ll be a doin’ anythin’ to survive. That be where we come in.”

  “The survivalists are going to help the starving people?” Duke wasn’t a humanitarian type of guy. He was all about Duke, and that didn’t leave room for anyone else.

  “Not exactly.” He bit down on his lower lip as he paused. “Preppers ar’ part of a bigger community of survivalists. We ar’ prepared for when it begins with food caches, know how’s to live off the land, and we sure nuff will protect all our loved ones from the infestation.”

  “Combating zombies, who would have guessed?”

  “And tell you what, bein’ a newspaper man and all ain’t gonna keep you alive none. Armed survivalists gonna be the only ones to make it.”

  I pretended to ponder as he spoke. I wasn’t about to let myself become entangled in his web of words and distraction. Duke’s ego had become my most valuable tool to use against him. Preoccupied completely with himself, he couldn’t stop pointing out his skills and abilities. The more questions he answered, the more condescending he became.

  “We ar’ teachin’ and doin’ survival under any situation. See, there’s things y’all never think about until it be too late. Simple things, like how’s to manage water. Most folks’ll never think ‘bout it, but what’ll you do without no water? Y’all be faced with all sorts of contaminants and diseases. You better knowed how to get blood out of a turnip.”

  “Are you saying you can survive in any situation?”

  “A sight better than most. I’ll tell you that.”

&
nbsp; “I guess I’m destined to hunt, fish, and dig up grub worms, so I don’t die when everything hits the fan.”

  “That there’s what’s wrong with y’all city fellers,” Duke scoffed. “Survivin’s only the half of it. There’s more, a whole lot more.” Duke lost his smile, and the tone of his words became terse. “I prepare fellers like you in my trainin’ camp. Weak fellers that would die if they’s didn’t have me to help ‘em.”

  I let the insult slide. “What do you teach, Duke?”

  “All of it. But I’m sought after mostly to teach on weapons and tactical skills. I don’t guess you knowed what that be?”

  “No, I learned to survive with a pad and pencil.”

  Duke sneered.

  We turned onto Highway 86 toward Duke’s place. I was happy to see the turn into Dixon Holler. A sane person could only listen to Duke run off at the mouth for so long. We climbed the red clay ravine of the holler; darkness had already crept in. The moonless draw shrouded in trees had taken on sinister features, and shadows loomed. We followed the incline until the house came into view. Duke swung his pickup to the far right of the driveway and passed by the house.

  “Are we stopping at the house? Joyce would want me to say hello to Minnie.”

  “Maybe some other time, Stud.” Duke bit his words off tight.

  Duke pulled his rig in front of the compound activating the motion sensor which lit a string of high-pressure mercury vapor lamps and slowly all quadrants of the fence line took on a ghostly haze. The partial illumination of the concertina wire woven to the top of the chain link fence resembled a World War II prisoner of war camp. This was the look Duke intended when he constructed the compound. Intimidating.

  Duke opened one side of the double doors and held it open for me. “Go ahead.” I didn’t view it as a considerate gesture. Any other day of the week, Duke would’ve taken the lead position as a sign of his importance. He had something on his mind.

  Absent was his cocky behavior. That wasn’t Duke; that was Mister Hyde. The scenario was ripe. His actions and words convinced me he was up to no good, and he would likely make his play soon. I walked through the entryway, stepped to one side, and waited. I had no intentions of walking in front of a guy who had size on me. Besides, supposedly, I’d never been in the place.