Rule of Capture by Christopher Brown

Author:Christopher Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

27

Having already suffered one dog bite for the day, Donny decided to drive down the path through the trees. He was glad he did, because it was farther than he expected.

It only took a couple of minutes, but by the time he got into the little grove where the trailer was, just like the lady said, it felt a little like he had passed into a different time. Maybe because the old aluminum camper looked like it had been parked there for decades, and somehow at the same time looked ready to run for the border at a moment’s notice. But maybe it had been left behind, after Donny had drawn the vengeance of the state back to this spot.

The trailer wasn’t the only thing hidden in that grove. There was an ancient German military truck sitting in the dirt with the hood off and the engine out, for what looked to have been a long time, a couple of empty parking spots with fresh tracks in the gravel, and a foldout table in the yard with four chairs and one coffee cup, but no other sign of people. It was only after he got out that Donny noticed the dog bowl, and the bone that looked about the size of his femur. But not a bark or a rustle, just more dull noises in the faraway distance and a couple of cardinals alerting the woods behind the trailer to the arrival of a stranger.

The name on the front of the trailer above the hitch was ARGO, spelled out in squared-off letters cut from some luminescent material long past its half-life. It was boxy and angled, leaning forward over the hitch, and when you peeked through the cloudy old glass you could see the warm patina of wood paneling from old forests, warmed up further with hand-woven draperies in the colors of a happier culture. Donny stepped up onto the entry block made from flotsam wood and knocked, not expecting an answer and not getting one. Through the porthole he saw plates stacked to dry, a little portable color TV hooked up to some weird old deck, almost like a cross between a VCR and a ham radio, a vintage assault rifle with a wood stock and a banana clip leaning up against the table, and a kitchen cart set up with a gunsmith’s reloader. Donny looked toward the back of the trailer, but saw only darkness.

The gun was the most likely sign that whoever lived here was coming back.

Behind the trailer toward the woods was a little shorty storage container, white paint turning green and blue paint turning the color of the polluted sky. You could still read the faded-out brand of BREMEN OST. Donny was about to walk back there when he heard another vehicle rumbling down the lane, and decided he better wait in his car.

He watched the Ford pickup roll up in the rearview mirror, and wished he’d thought to park facing out. The driver was a white guy with a ball cap, and a big grey dog riding shotgun.

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