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Post by wildhorseluvr on Aug 3, 2021 13:29:13 GMT
Oohhh. Who walked into his house?? I’m guessing the neighbor lady. I would be livid if someone entered my house and especially if they let my dogs out. WWIII would be on the horizon…
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Post by Ozarks Tom on Aug 3, 2021 13:33:25 GMT
He needs to take those dogs to attack dog school.
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Post by wildhorseluvr on Aug 3, 2021 22:09:13 GMT
Depends on the dogs. Some just don’t have it in them to be protective.
With mutts, anything’s possible.
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Post by Ozarks Tom on Aug 3, 2021 23:41:38 GMT
Another thought, I'd be very leery of someone who exhibited the ability to unlock locked doors.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 4, 2021 9:37:25 GMT
Time to go back and spend more time with Dave!
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Post by bretf on Aug 5, 2021 11:05:31 GMT
Chapter 14
Kevin hesitated, then returned the wave. Pushing the excited dogs far enough to give him room to drive, he maneuvered the remaining distance to the carport and shut the engine off. Getting out, he waited beside the open door. Jack and Jill jumped down, positioning themselves on each side of him. Their posture wasn’t threatening, but neither was it welcoming.
“Hi, Kev. I was starting to wonder if I’d see you before I have to head in for work,” Tammy said as she approached.
“Hi. This is a surprise.”
The dogs pressed tighter to him and he looked down at them.
Tammy saw his look and said, “I hope you don’t mind. They really wanted to come outside so I opened the door for them.”
Kevin was puzzled. Evidently, he’d been too distracted with the guns to check the house on his way out. “It’s okay. I just didn’t want them to run off while I was gone. What brings you out here?”
“I’ve wanted to come out since we talked the other night. As I told you, I think your ex is nuts but I wanted to see for myself,” she said.
“I wish I’d have known. I would’ve been home quite a bit sooner.”
“It’s okay. So, what’ve you been up to?”
“Uh, I just had a bit of shopping to do.” He didn’t know what she’d think of him learning to shoot so he didn’t mention it.
“Hum. Would you mind showing me around?”
“Yeah, sure. But I’ve got a few groceries I need to put away first.”
“Ooh, I’ll get to see what you like to eat. Since we’ve seen each other’s underwear, it’ll almost be like we’re dating.”
“Uhhh,” Kevin said, blushing. He reached into the truck for the grocery bags.
Tammy smiled and asked, “Can I help you with that?”
“Naw, I’ve got it,” he said, making sure the shotgun was out of view.
She walked close beside him as he headed for the house. As close as she could, anyway, with the dogs between them. Kevin missed the look of distaste she shot them.
He pushed the door open and stepped back. “After you.”
She smiled and said, “Always a gentleman.”
Tammy stopped inside the Spartan living room, looking around. “I know you said your ex pretty much cleaned you out, but, wow.” The only furniture was a lawn chair.
Kevin shrugged and led the way to the kitchen.
“This is a little better, but still a definite bachelor pad,” Tammy said. “And it looks like you’re quite the reader.” She moved to the card table and looked through the stack of books. “Hum, not exactly romance novels, here, Kev.”
“Nope.” He’d set the shopping bags on the counter and was digging through for anything that needed to go in the refrigerator.
Tammy continued to look through the reference material, opening the file folder. One line piqued her interest. “In your preparing for bad times, do you have guns, Kev?”
“Well, you know I plan on getting chickens. The last time I had some, a fox or something got them. I thought it’d be a good idea to have a shotgun to protect them.”
She nodded and went to the counter. “What’s with the can?”
Kevin glanced at what she was looking at. He’d gotten some aluminum beverage cans and cleaned them. Then he’d made a vertical cut in each, followed by cuts at the top and bottom, cutting halfway around the cans. After he’d bent the flaps out, he’d put tea candles inside. “Oh, that’s a reflector for the light. It sends a lot more light out the front from the candle than just the candle by itself.”
“Hum,” she said, and started pulling items out of the bag, setting them where Kevin could reach to put them away. “It looks like you really like beans and rice.”
Kevin shrugged. “Together, they make a great protein. They store a long time without refrigeration, and they cost pennies compared to meat-based protein.”
“If you say so. But I like a nice piece of meat on occasion.”
Kevin looked up, wondering if the statement was meant to contain the double meaning he heard.
Tammy took three steps, stopping just in front of him. She reached out, just in time for the dogs to force their way between them. Pursing her lips, Tammy extended her arm to the cabinet behind his head. It was tough, the dogs making the reach longer than she wanted. “Are your glasses in here? I’m parched.”
“Oh, sorry,” Kevin said, turning away from her and getting a glass before she could grasp one. He got a bit of distance between them when he stepped to the sink and filled it. Holding it out to her, she reached to take it, resting her fingers on his.
Kevin froze. Jill took that moment to lean heavily against his legs. Jack ran to the door, turned to look back at him, whined and barked. Breaking free of the spell he’d fallen under, he said, “Oh, uh, Jack needs to go out.”
“It’s just as well,” Tammy snapped. “I should be going to work.”
“Oh. So, if not sooner, will I see you Wednesday at the laundromat?”
“That would be nice. Just the two of us.”
Kevin held the door as she went to her car. He could tell she was in a huff but didn’t know what’d caused it. He looked down at his dogs, shaking his head. “I admit, I don’t understand women. If you guys can help me out, I’d appreciate it.”
Resigned to the fact he’d never understand, he got the guns from the truck and put them in his bedroom. Then, he took his gloves and tools, and headed for the chicken house. He worked steadily, running the scenario through his head, over and over. No closer to understanding, he was jerked from his thoughts by a purring feminine voice.
“Hi, neighbor. It’s nice to see you again,” Cindy said.
He looked up and froze at the sight. In place of the tight yoga tights she’d worn before, she had a skin-tight pair of shorts, revealing every inch of her shapely, tanned legs. Her impressive chest was partially encased in a tube top. He gulped.
Cindy turned slowly, revealing her back and visible butt cheeks.
The shorts were very short and tight, indeed. He gulped again.
“Whatcha doing? Remodeling?” she asked after facing him again.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind enough to give a coherent answer. “I’m going to be getting chickens. I’m making the pen so predators can’t get in.”
“Ooh, so you can fix things. I like a man who’s good with his hands.” She looked at his hands, then moved her right hand down.
Kevin was transfixed as he watched her hand lightly run back and forth on one of those incredible legs. It traced the line where the tight cloth met the flesh.
Aware of the impact, she smiled, then brought him back. “We’re doing a remodel, too. Maybe you can come over when it’s finished and I can show you around. The master bedroom will be incredible.”
Unable to think, he mumbled something unintelligible.
“Hey Cindy, c’mon babe, let’s hit it,” a man called from the neighbors’ house.
“Aww, it’s Charley. I’ve got to go but I’ll see you again soon.”
Kevin watched her swaying backside as she left. “Whew,” he said, and wiped his brow. He picked up the shovel and started digging. It was a good thing it wasn’t a power tool or a hammer. Not with the state his mind was in. He would’ve hurt himself for sure.
#
Despite his best intentions when he’d started the day, the chicken pen wasn’t finished when diminishing light forced him to stop working. He’d been too distracted after the visits from Tammy and Cindy. Standing back, he studied what he’d accomplished and what remained. One more hour, he thought, and he’d be ready for his next project.
The remaining workers left the neighbors’ house as he stored his tools and materials inside the hen house. He found himself staring at the home, thinking of Cindy. Jack nuzzled him on the leg and Jill whined. “Sorry, guys, I’m a little distracted. But you’re right, it’s past suppertime.”
When he’d fed the dogs and had his meal, Kevin went to his son’s former bedroom. It’d become his storage room. Located on the north side of the house, he could shut off the heat vent, and it stayed fairly cool. He located a box of pint canning jars and took them to the sink. With the sink full of sudsy water, he washed his few dishes and the jars.
His plans for the morning were to finish the chicken pen, then pick the peas before starting the irrigation water in the garden. While the water flowed, he’d shell the peas, and hopefully, have enough to can.
#
The day was going according to plan, with no womanly distractions. Admiring his work, Kevin was satisfied that his future hens would be safe from predators. Nodding his head, he gathered his tools, leftover wire, and the cut-off pieces. The job wouldn’t be finished until they were all in their proper places.
The peas had done well, and in a short time, he had a two-gallon bucket brimming with the bounty. Many more yet to mature pods remained. He normally picked peas three times before they were spent. Two gallons for the first picking seemed good but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember how it compared to other years or what the true yield would be once the peas were shelled. A vision of jars full of freshly canned peas filled his mind as he got the water flowing.
Kevin arranged the bucket of peas, a bucket for the pods, and another bucket for the shelled peas around his lawn chair. He sat and started to shell. The pods, which he’d always put back in the garden for compost would be saved this time. In one of the websites he’d visited, a woman had posted about making broth from the pods. It seemed simple enough; put the pods in a large pot, cover with water, add a bit of salt and a chopped onion, and then simmer for at least 25 minutes. Then the pods could go to the garden.
The dogs were sitting at attention on each side of him, certain whatever he was doing was related to food. Jill whined and a line of drool ran from Jack’s mouth.
“You two are pitiful,” he said, but tossed an unshelled pod to each of them.
When all the peas were shelled, he looked in the bucket with mixed feelings. Although he had a decent quantity, maybe eight cups, it didn’t seem like it’d be worthwhile to can them. In the past, he’d just frozen what he wouldn’t eat fresh in a couple of meals. Now, though, he thought he needed to dehydrate them. If he only had a dehydrator.
It was a moment of realization he’d never considered before. If he was going to grow and preserve all the food he needed to live on, he’d need to grow a lot more. “Wow. And some of those websites and stories make it seem so simple. This’ll darn near have to be a second-full time job.” He had a new respect for his grandparents.
He puzzled over drying the peas as he changed the irrigation water to a different section of the garden. A post he’d read online came back to him and he decided it was the ticket. Backing the pickup out of the carport, he parked it so it would get direct sunshine. For racks, he pulled the screens off the kids’ former windows. He washed the screens and put them in the cab of the truck, suspended by small boards running from the seatback to the dashboard.
Maybe at lunchtime tomorrow, he’d be able to run by the recycling center. It’d been high on his list but he hadn’t managed to fit it in yet. His main reason to go was to try to find a piece of pipe and a cap to make a well bucket. If they had what he needed, it would undoubtedly be cheaper than buying the same items new at the hardware store. Now, he added screens to his mental list, so he could put the two he was using back on the windows if he located some.
We went to the kitchen and washed and drained the peas. He’d certainly enjoy having some fresh for supper but he sure didn’t have enough to be worth running the pressure canner. He shook his head wryly as he looked at the jars he’d washed the previous evening.
With the peas arranged on the screens, he closed the truck door and got his new stove out of the back. It’d remained there the day before due to his double distractions. He carried it and the tank to the house and set it up in the open area the kitchen stove used to occupy.
After the pea pods were rinsed and put on the stove to become broth, he went back to check the water. The water was fine as it was for a while longer so he stood and studied the garden. It’d seemed like a lot when he’d planted it, Debbie would be sure to say it was too much. But looking with new sight, he saw how inadequate it really was.
Turning to the dogs, he said, “We’ve got our work cut out for us if we’re going to pull this off.”
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Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2021 13:46:27 GMT
Cindy is BAD news! Stick with Tammy Kevin!
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Post by Ozarks Tom on Aug 5, 2021 14:01:34 GMT
Well, I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming, Tammy at his house.
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Post by wildhorseluvr on Aug 5, 2021 22:37:09 GMT
Hmm, I think even Tammy’s rather pushy and entirely too nosy. I’d also be totally POd at anyone who opened my door and let my dogs out, friends included. You just don’t do that unless their house is on fire. As for living next door to Cindy…I think he should move elsewhere. Thanks, bretf!
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Post by bretf on Aug 5, 2021 23:57:50 GMT
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Post by joebill on Aug 6, 2021 4:40:49 GMT
Sounds to me like a vow of celibacy is in order.. ..Joe
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Post by wildhorseluvr on Aug 6, 2021 4:57:51 GMT
Yeah, seems to me even though women are chasing him , he’s totally striking out. I have a bad feeling about Tammy, she’s up to no good. Sometimes you’re just better off alone.
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Post by bretf on Aug 7, 2021 11:58:01 GMT
Chapter 15
Not accustomed to receiving calls on the weekend, Kevin was startled when his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked at the display. It didn’t give a name; the number unknown. Debating whether or not to answer, he muttered, “Let me guess, my extended warranty is about to run out.”
Expecting to disconnect the moment a computerized voice-activated spammer engaged, he accepted the call. “Hello.”
“Hi, Kev. I was starting to wonder if you were going to pick up.”
“Tammy?”
“Yeah, it is. I’m calling to apologize.”
“Apologize? For what?”
“For my behavior yesterday. After I had time to think, I saw how appalling I behaved.”
Not knowing how to respond, Kevin didn’t, just looked at the dogs with raised eyebrows.
“Anyway, I’m sorry for coming on so strong. I know you’re shy and afraid to be burned again, but I like you a lot, and well, I pushed too hard. I’m sorry for that.”
Kevin muttered a “Hum.”
“Afterwards, I got to thinking how some guys at the bar come on to me. They tick me off to no end and I was embarrassed to realize I was acting the same way. Physically, at least, if not verbally. So, as I said, I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”
Kevin repeated his monosyllabic response.
“And I’m sorry for leaving in a huff. As I said, I like you a lot. And no matter what I did, appropriate in the situation or not, your dogs did their best to stop me. I told you before, I’m not a dog person, and I swear they picked up on it.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Still a man of many words, Kev. Anyway, I hope you’ll accept my apology. And if you don’t come to the laundromat Wednesday, I’ll understand. But if you do come, I promise I’ll back off and let things move slowly.
“Bye,” she said, ending the call before he could respond.
Kevin looked at the silent phone and shook his head. “I’ll never understand women,” he told the dogs. Then he saved the number in his contacts list.
#
The peas weren’t dried enough when Kevin was ready to go to work Monday morning. He poured them into a Rubbermaid knock-off container and took his drying racks down. He’d set them up again once he got to work. The dogs jumped in and they were off.
Once Kevin dropped his lunch in his office, turned on the computer, and got a cup of coffee, he went to his supervisor, Walt’s, office.
“Hey Walt, how are you doing? Good weekend?”
“Oh, morning Kevin. Yeah, it was nice. We went fishing, and believe it or not, we actually did some catching, too.”
“Sounds nice,” Kevin said.
Walt tilted his head and looked at Kevin over his readers, waiting.
“Do you remember Jack Randall?” Kevin asked.
Walt scrunched his brow, thinking. “No, I don’t. Was he a subject in one of your cases?”
“Yes. Remember the woman, Nancy Weibe, and her son who were abused by the live-in? He got prison for it.”
“Oh, yeah. That guy. I hope they lost the key when they locked him up.”
“They didn’t. In fact, I hear he has a parole hearing this week.”
Walt shook his head. “What are they thinking?”
“I sure don’t know. Do you remember what he said at his sentencing?”
Walt nodded.
“Did you ever have anyone make threats like that to you?” Kevin asked.
Walt frowned and said, “More than one.”
“What did you do about it?”
Walt pursed his lips and his brow crinkled while he thought. Coming to a decision, he opened a desk drawer and took out a book of business cards. Thumbing through it, he found the one he wanted and pulled it out. Without speaking, he held it out to Kevin.
Kevin read it and looked at Walt, questioningly. “Concealed carry instructor? You mean it would be alright to have a weapon here?”
“It is, but only if you have the permit.”
Kevin read the card again. “Do you carry a gun?”
Walt nodded and tapped his left chest. “It’s not good for anything if it’s not at hand.”
It took a bit for the information to sink in. “Thanks,” Kevin said when it did, and walked back to his office. He’d never suspected Walt was armed.
Kevin waited until mid-morning to make the call. After he closed his office door. It so happened, there’d be a class on Saturday and it still had openings. Kevin cringed at spending the money but confirmed he’d be there. He was surprised as he jotted down the particulars about the class. It’d be held at the gun range he’d been at two days ago. Although his name wasn’t on the card Walt had given him, Kevin wondered if Dave would be the instructor. He’d certainly been thorough in basic gun training. He hoped so; a familiar face would be welcome.
#
Janice was happy as always to keep an eye on Jack and Jill during lunch. He drove to the recycling center, checked in with the yardman, and wandered through the piles of scrap metal. He found a section of two-and-a-half-inch pipe with one end capped that would work for a well bucket. It was longer than he needed but he could remedy that with a few minutes and a sharp hacksaw blade.
The only window screens he saw were in poor condition so he left them and headed to the office.
The attendant weighed the pipe and said, “How’s two bucks sound?”
“That sounds fine,” Kevin said and paid the man.
#
The evening before as he studied the garden, he’d decided he needed a better way to dehydrate his produce. Some vegetables might produce enough to can, but the peas had shown he needed an effective drying alternative. During a lull in work in the afternoon, he was able to look for solar dehydrator plans. While there were some nice designs, they were all more involved than he wanted to build. He searched to see how raisins were dried. The process was very rudimentary. After a few minutes online, he decided he needed something in between. Although the screens in the truck were working, it was inconvenient to take down and set up again each time he needed to go somewhere.
As he thought about it, he decided he’d make simple rectangular frames and put screen on them. Matching frames with cheesecloth stretched over them would mount on top. That was the big change from raisins; they were dried exposed to everything. In his opinion, it would be worthwhile to keep flies and other bugs off the food he was drying. He’d use sawhorses for legs for the drying racks.
On the way home, Kevin purchased the materials he’d need to make two sets of racks and one pair of saw horses. He already had one pair of horses. He bought a rope for the well bucket and also bought a pack of hack saw blades. Maybe he didn’t need the blades but he wouldn’t count on it.
The blades turned out to be a worthwhile and necessary purchase. The blade in his hacksaw was rusty and dull. The pipe was hardly marked when the blade broke. With a new blade, he started cutting. Metal flakes flew from the pipe with each stroke. “Wow. I should’ve started with a new blade.”
After the pipe was cut, leaving him a sixteen-inch-long section to pull water from the well, he drilled holes for the rope. He followed that by using a file to take the sharp edges off the cut end. He put the tools away and carried the pipe to the kitchen.
He put the plug in the sink and started the water running, adding a generous splash of bleach. He scrubbed the pipe as well as he could, inside and out, rinsed it, and put it in the dish rack to dry. Dropping the newly purchased rope in the sink, he sloshed it around in the bleach solution, pulled the plug, and rinsed it. Alter it was draped loosely in the drying rack, he turned the cold water back on and ran it over his hands for a minute. “I definitely had enough bleach,” he told the dogs.
After supper, he and the dogs went back outside. He didn’t think he had enough time to finish his drying racks but he could make a good start. Before heading to the shed, he stood at the front step, studying the neighbors’ house. The side closest to him was different. A French Door had been put in the wall, near where he thought Harvey’s bedroom had been. The deck appeared to be finished and a hot tub was sitting not far from the new door.
Kevin shook his head. “I’d think they’d have put the door in before painting the wall. Regardless, that’s not Harvey’s place anymore, for sure.”
#
The next morning, the well-bucket and rope were dry. Kevin threaded the rope through the holes in the pipe and tied it with a bowline. He stuffed the rest of the rope into the pipe. He went to the broom closet where he kept the bag of used bags, pulling out two bread bags.
He shook the bags over the dog dishes to dislodge any remaining crumbs. Putting the well bucket into one, he secured the end with a bread tie, then repeated with the second bag. When he left the house for work, he made a quick detour to the pump house and left the pipe-bucket beside the well casing.
As he drove to the office, he contemplated his to-do list. He still needed to work on his go-bag. If Janice was willing, at lunchtime, he’d run over to the Army-Navy store and see what they had.
Janice was willing. He found a serviceable pack, several cheap disposable emergency blankets, and a water filter. It was a start. He’d add to it a bit at a time as he was able.
The evening went well. He was able to finish the drying racks and the sawhorses. After putting everything away, he went to the house to get ready for bed. But before he did, he got his laundry together and set the bag on his table, ready for morning.
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Post by tabitha on Aug 10, 2021 2:37:11 GMT
Whats with those forward women? is that pretty common? Gosh. He needs to move. But first of all put up a no trespassing sign. Tammy seems pretty desperate.
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Post by bretf on Aug 11, 2021 14:16:53 GMT
Chapter 16
Kevin was in as good a mood as he could remember as he was getting ready for work. Glancing at his bag of laundry, he smiled. Just as he was ready to leave, his phone chimed with an incoming text. He looked at the screen, noting it was the second since he’d plugged it in the previous evening. Both were from Tammy. The first had come in not long after he’d gone to bed but he hadn’t noticed it. Opening the conversation and reading, his good mood evaporated and he sank to his regular gloom.
“Kev, didn’t hear from U & thought U must need space. Maybe best if I skip laundry. T”
The second message was better but didn’t lift him. “Busy with sister today. Maybe laundry tomorrow?” It was followed by a smiling face emoji.
Kevin stared at the screen. There was no reason he couldn’t put laundry off a day, as long as Janice was willing. Then again, he probably should stay at the office since he’d left the dogs with her two days in a row. It took a while, but after backspacing several times to erase mistakes, he finally got his message written. “Thursday sounds good. See you then.”
A response came in moments. “Bring your appetite, I’ll bring Reubens.”
Kevin smiled as broadly as the accompanying emoji.
#
Kevin was bent over his folder, studying. He quietly talked to himself. “Okay, rule of threes. Where am I with it?”
“Three minutes: oxygen and icy water. I think I’m okay there.”
He read the next item.
“Three hours without shelter. Okay, I’ve got a start with the pack but I need to study that book on bushcraft more.” He made a note, underlining the name of the book with a red pen.
“Three days without water. I have the well bucket and the water filter. I should be covered. I hope.
“And three weeks without food. Now tie that in with the three ‘B’s. I got the guns and some—”
“Oh, hey, Kevin. I didn’t expect to see you. I thought you do your laundry on Wednesday,” Walt said. He stepped into Kevin’s office, a paper in his hand.
Kevin looked up and said, “Hey, Walt. Yeah, I normally do, but I’ve left the dogs with Janice two days in a row. I’ll give her a break today and hit the laundromat tomorrow.”
“Humph,” Walt grunted. “Then I guess I don’t need this.” He held up the paper. “I can just tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Warden Franklin just called. Jack Randall’s parole hearing was this morning. He was denied. Franklin thought I’d like to know since he threatened you.”
Kevin felt an invisible weight leave him. “That’s great. Thanks, Walt.”
Walt nodded. “Did you call the number I gave you?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry, yeah. But maybe I don’t need to go through with it, now,” Kevin said. He smiled. “Denied.”
Walt shook his head. “I recommend you take the class and get the permit. This doesn’t change a thing. Eventually, he’ll get out if someone even meaner than him doesn’t kill him first. Besides, he’s not the only one we’ve ticked off. He was just the most vocal. Take the class and get the permit.”
Walt watched him while Kevin thought about it for a bit and then shrugged. Walt turned and left, repeating himself as he went. “Get the permit.”
Kevin watched him go, still asking himself if he needed to now that Randall wasn’t getting out. He wasn’t convinced he needed to. His and Walt’s short conversation ran through his head. He smiled and murmured, “Denied.” Something else Walt had said wormed its way into his consciousness. He’d been so relieved when he heard the word denied, much of what Walt said after didn’t mean much. But suddenly, one thing did. “If someone even meaner than him doesn’t kill him first”.
A chill ran up his spine. In his mind, he was sitting on the seat of his pickup. Two goons were on each side of the truck. The men tasked with cutting the brush along his lane. On the driver’s side, the man with the meth-ravaged features and obscene tattoos. The bald hulk, leaning in, threatening. The weasely man blowing his cigarette smoke in his face from the passenger side.
Someone meaner than him. Kevin shook himself out of the spell. Standing, he walked to Walt’s office, put his head inside and said, “Walt, I’m going to do it.”
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