Nitro Mountain by Lee Clay Johnson

Author:Lee Clay Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2016-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

Larry stands hiding behind an oak on the western slope of East Ridge, watching Arnett dig. The storm cooled things off and the late summer sun has set clouds afire at the edge of the sky. He’d parked below on the access and was just starting to walk around and check things out when he heard something above him. Then he saw Arnett coming down through the cedars. He ducked behind a tree and hasn’t dared move since.

The back of his jacket is soaked from the climb, and the wind chills him. He watches Arnett light a cigarette off the one he just finished, kick the shovel into the ground and bring up dark earth.

The dropping sun spreads like a fan from the earth’s edge. It lasts a minute and then it’s gone, heating another world.

Far below off to the southwest, the town of Ashland starts glowing down in the basin, small house lights flicker on like the eyes of wolf spiders across a mowed field. His home and the Hickory are safe there in the valley, and that’s where he should’ve stayed. He wants a cigarette but the wind would carry the smoke and give him away. All of a sudden, as if Arnett heard him thinking, he turns downhill and pulls the shovel from the ground.

Larry crouches into the roots and moves farther behind the trunk. Why the hell’d he ever come up here? He should’ve learned by now he’s no good at creeping.

Arnett looks right past him, around him and then announces to no one in particular, “Shovel’s a funny thing. Get the whole job done. Multipurpose.”

Hands in the wet leaves, Larry holds his balance. His knees hurt. He’s out of shape, overweight, not even close to ready for this line of work. Not anymore.

Arnett takes a drag from his cigarette, then kicks the shovel back into the ground. With the sun down, darkness rises from the dirt and leaves and everything beneath. Larry’s eyes adjust as Arnett labors over the trench, and after a while there’s a pile of roots and dirt and rocks beside it.

Larry’s phone is on silent in his pocket. There’s not much service up here and you’re lucky to even send a text. Sharon’s been calling him from their landline. He should’ve thought to take a picture while it was still light, but he doesn’t really know how to do that. He’s got Turner’s number on speed dial, though. After too many late-night brawls at the Hickory, Turner gave him his personal number and said to call anytime, day or night, if he needed backup. Larry only calls when things get rough. He admires how fast Turner can clear a room, no gun required. Not to say the problems don’t escalate once Turner herds them out, but as long as the fighting’s outside the barroom, that’s all Larry wants. Anyway, the new cops would make this even worse. Ricky and all them—he doesn’t trust those guys.

Arnett’s almost up to his knees, cursing and digging, when Larry’s phone lights up through the fabric of his windbreaker.

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