The Devil's Copper by Jamie Crothall (ink ebook reader .txt) 📕

“You got into some shit. I get it.  You’ll explain it all to me.  I just need to know if there’s anything else.”

“There’s nothing else.”

“No, don’t just say it,” I insisted.  “Look at me.  Tell me that there’s nothing else I should know about.”

Jack held my face in his hands.  “Billie, there is nothing else.  I promise you.  I got involved with Frankie.  I’ll explain it all later.  But that’s the only loose thread.  I just want to leave until things settle down.”

“Do we have to even come back?”

He gave a slight chuckle then shrugged.  “No, I suppose not.”

We kissed, then scrambled to gather a few necessities.  We mentioned things we needed as we criss-crossed paths through the apartment, looking for the bare essentials.  When we were done, we stood at the door, each with one packed bag in hand.  We took one last look over our shoulders at our apartment before heading to the door.

“Think we could use the truck for a few weeks?” he asked, clearly having seen the service vehicle parked outside.

The phone rang just as the realization hit.  No, really.  It happened just like that – one of those coincidences you only see on TV.

“Don’t answer it,” he insisted.

But I knew I had to.

I picked up the receiver.  “Hello?”

“Billie, it’s Pat.  Why aren’t you here?”

“It’s…kind of a long story.  Is Joey on the rampage again?”

“It’s worse than that, Billie.”

Pat was typically rather calm.  So his tone was unsettling.

“What is it?”

“We had another backlog of emergency calls, because of the rain and thaw.  Joey’s gone out and done a few jobs on his own.”

“That’s his problem,” I sighed.  “If he gets pulled over he gets pulled over.  How many times can we…”

“He took the ’79 Mack.”

“Oh fuck.”

“That’s what I said.  I tried to distract him, but he was determined.”

“Was Walter still in there?”

The mention of his name caught more of Jack’s attention.

“He was when I arrived at seven thirty.  I checked on him for you.”

What a sweetheart.  “Where’s he headed now?”

“You know that old mansion out in Azilda?  Apparently we have to go there, like, twice every spring?  He’s probably halfway there by now.”

“You’re priceless, Pat.  Thank you.”

I hung up and turned to Jack.

“We have to go help Walter.”  To his credit, Jack looked conflicted, but he was leaning more to one side than I expected.  “What’s the matter?”

“Walter can take care of himself,” he said.  “He’s…resourceful.”

“Yeah, I know he is.  Why didn’t you tell me he could see forward in time?”

“I, uh…he told you?”

“What are we waiting for?  We have to help him!  He really stuck his neck for you.  For both of us!”

“So, he’s in a truck?” he asked, piecing together the conversation I had.

“Yeah.  We get him, then we take him with us.  Like you said, until things cool down.  Look, I don’t like him cramping our style any more than I used to, but we owe him this.  Why am I even explaining this to you?”

He shook his head.  “You’re right. I’m sorry.  The last few days have just…really shaken me.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

We headed to the truck and tossed the suitcases into the open back.  He seemed surprised when I went for the driver’s seat.

“You drive stick?”

“I figured it out on my way home last night,” I said.

We lurched out of the parking lot and made our way out of the city.

***

I drove into the boonies, toward Azilda.  It was mostly farmland and bushes, with a few collections of houses and stores scattered about.  Fortunately, I knew where this house was. I had to look it up on a map several times to guide the drivers.

Joey’s old Mack truck was easy to spot. The truck’s 800 gallon tank stuck out like a golden beacon, the bright blue letters proclaiming ‘JOEY,’ as though it meant something momentous.  I pulled into the driveway and alongside the truck, opposite to the side facing the septic tank in the back yard.

“Wait here,” I said.

If Joey thought anything was out of the norm, he’d want to know more so he could wrestle some control over it.

The sound of the pump churning away on the truck was deafening when I opened the door.  I rounded the tanker and saw my fearless leader leaning over the opening of the septic tank, guiding a large hose as it sucked up sewage and rainwater.  He had a pipe in his mouth and his dog in his jacket.  I watched and hoped that one would fall into the tank, but in the end it wasn’t the one I really had my money on.

“Shit,” Joey shouted.

His pipe fell into the open tank.  He pushed the hose to the side, then reached in to retrieve his pipe.  He examined it, wiped it against his overalls, took out a dirty rag to give it an extra polishing off, then put it back in his mouth.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

Luckily, I was drowned out by the pump.  At least the malaria would distract him while I got Walter out of the truck.

I returned to the opposite side of the tanker, and climbed up to the cab.  I opened the door and looked behind the seats.  I pulled the blanket away and found Walter; still alive, still in one piece, and still sleeping.

“Walter, wake up,” I snapped.

Having sufficiently rested, he was a little easier to rouse this time.

“What the hell is that noise?”

“A septic truck pump.”

He glanced around.  “Where the hell am I?”

“This would be said septic truck.  Look, there’s no time to explain.  I have Jack and we need to get you out of here.  We’re going to go hit the casinos down