"Not unless you wanted me to give you a 38-caliber cure!" Travis slammed the phone down and poured himself three fingers of gin. He waved a bottle of vermouth over the glass, and held an empty olive jar up to the light.
"Shee-it!" He stuffed the jar in the trash on his way to the den. Once there, he stretched out on a recliner, pointed the remote at the TV, and settled in to watch the Braves. For the third time that month the set produced only static. As he contemplated the destruction of the cable company's local office, the phone rang. He grabbed a receiver off the side table. Leon should have called hours earlier.
"Your dime, my time," he said.
"Travis Eugene?"
Travis squeezed his eyes shut. "Sorry, Ma. I didn't know it was you."
"I need to speak to Leon, and there's no answer at his place."
"He's away on business, but he's supposed to call real soon. Shoot, I thought you were him."
"Do I sound like him?"
"No, Ma, of course not, but--"
"Have him call me."
"Sure, Ma, no problem."
"And Travis?”
“Yes’m?”
“Quit acting like such a danged hoodlum."
Travis hung up and tried to control his breathing. Anger left him shaking. He couldn't wait to get his hands on either his brother or the skydiver. He didn't care which came first.
~*~
Dallas faced Marti across the enlarged restoration chamber and inspected the wiring harness. "How many times do you think we can get away with hooking and unhooking this thing? I've seen newer-looking wires on Civil War antiques."
Marti made a face. "That harness may be old, but it's probably sturdier than anything you can get nowadays."
"Right," Dallas said. "Who cares about any of that fancy-schmancy quality control stuff? If this gear was good enough for Lon Chaney it's--"
"Who's Lon Chaney?"
"Frankenstein! Well, his monster, actually."
"Hook up the damned wires, Dallas, or I'll zap you!"
He chuckled as he made the connections. Banter was good. It meant she liked him. He certainly hoped so, anyway.
They finished the crude chamber a little after dawn and opted to get some sleep before they tested it.
"I'm going to curl up in the ambulance," Marti said. "Wake me when you get up."
Dallas crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "You'd be a lot more comfortable indoors, in a bed, don't you think?"
Marti smiled. "Nope."
~*~
By morning, Travis still felt as if the entire world was out to get him. Of all the hired muscle available in Savannah, only two men said they'd go with him to Leesville. He didn't know either of them, though in the past they'd both worked with Leon. This time, Leon could cover their pay.
Travis pressed the accelerator of his big Buick to the floor. I-16 out of Savannah had to be the loneliest stretch of road anywhere. He eased back in the seat and tried to relax--no point in letting tension make an already bad day worse. As he adjusted the rearview mirror, he saw the blue lights of a Georgia State Patrol car flash on behind him.
~*~
"What are those for?" Dallas asked as Marti entered the workshop with an armload of petrified steaks.
"Practice," she said, and dumped them in a pile beside the restoration chamber. "All we did was move the defroster mechanism from a small box to a large one. We have no idea if it'll still work."
Dallas nodded. "Good idea. We can see if the amount of stuff to be thawed out makes any difference." He opened the door of the chamber and began stacking the steaks.
"Wait a minute," Marti said. "If you thaw 'em all out, we won't have anything to practice with."
"Oh?" Dallas smiled and pointed to the raygun.
Marti blushed. "Oops--never mind!"
It took two minutes to convert one steak, and just under five to convert a dozen. After a couple dozen trials, they worked out a rough scale of time to volume and prayed they had it right. Marti looked through Gramp's notebook, but couldn't find anything that dealt with the process when applied to anything larger than a pork roast.
Next, they tested steaks wrapped in paper, cloth, and aluminum foil. Only the foil seemed to interfere with the process. The metal became so hot it singed the meat.
"Looks like we won't have to worry about King Kong here using his gun," Marti said. "He won't even be able to hang onto it."
Dallas laughed. "My guess is he'll be more concerned about his finger."
"There's still a bullet in the gun. What if it goes off?"
"Beats me, but there's not a whole lot we can do about it."
They packed Leon, his gun, and the severed digit into the chamber. Marti unbuttoned his shirt and charged the paddles. She squirted contact gel on the shock surfaces and rubbed them together to spread it.
"What's that for?" Dallas asked.
"It improves conductivity. See how hairy his chest is? Without this stuff, all I'd do is burn that off and brand him. If he woke up, he wouldn't be a very happy camper." She nodded and Dallas turned the defroster on.
The box hummed as they looked at each other. Dallas realized how vulnerable they were if the gun went off. They retreated to a far corner, and he slipped his arm around Marti's waist. She made no attempt to remove it.
After roughly ten minutes, they heard a thump from inside the box. The sound startled Dallas. "Think he wants out?"
She shook her head. "I'll bet his hand thawed, and he dropped the gun. It's way too early to stop."
After another four minutes, the timer clicked off and Dallas yanked the door open. Leon all but filled the chamber. He wasn't moving. Marti grabbed a beefy arm and casually shoved it out of the way. Dallas quickly realized Leon wasn't the only one with muscle. Marti wrapped the hot gun in a rag and handed it to Dallas, then connected Leon to a heart monitor.
"Stand clear!" She leaned awkwardly over the box, careful not to touch it, and pressed the cardiac paddles against Leon's chest. When she hit the triggers, the voltage lifted the big man off the bottom of the box and left him groaning. Blood began to pour from the stump of his severed finger.
Dallas grabbed the finger, put it in a plastic bag, and dropped it in a small ice chest while Marti tended to Leon's hand. She glanced at the cardiac monitor, then turned to Dallas with a huge smile. "I think he'll be okay."
The news gave Dallas a moment's pause, and he felt the tension drain from him. He stood next to Marti and massaged her shoulders, feeling her relax as he rubbed. I could get used to this, he thought.
"It works!" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It really works."
Ten minutes later, Leon's eyes fluttered open. "What hit me?"
"I did," Dallas said. "Maybe next time think twice before you pull a gun on somebody."
Marti almost succeeded in keeping a straight face as they prepared to take Leon to the hospital.
~*~
"I knew they wouldn't be able to reattach his finger at Boondocks General," Marti said as they drove Dallas's car back to the farm. "I just didn't want to have to be the one to haul him to the regional hospital in Waycross." She smoothed away a wrinkle in her sun dress. "Show up in a uniform and they figure they own you."
Dallas glanced appreciatively at her in her brightly colored outfit. "I'm glad you changed. You do wonderful things for that dress."
Marti blushed. "Sometimes I get tired of looking like a refrigerator repairman."
Dallas chuckled as he turned into the driveway leading to the farm. "You know, I still can't believe we can reverse the effects of that zapper. Think of the possibilities!"
"I've been too excited to think of anything else," Marti said. "I can't wait to start on Gramp!"
"Damn! It looks like you're going to have to." He pointed at a car parked beside the one Leon left behind. Travis Pinnel stood beside it.
"Who's he?" she asked.
"King Kong's partner."
Dallas stopped the car and threw it into
reverse. As he leaned out the window to back up the drive, two men with handguns stepped from behind trees in the pecan grove.
Marti put her hand on his arm. "Don't...."
Though tempted to try and run them down, he didn't want to endanger Marti. He took his frustration out on the shift lever, jamming it into Park.
The two gunmen escorted them to Travis. "I see my brother's car, but I don't see him. Now, why do you s'pose that is?"
"We took him to the hospital," Marti said.
Travis glared at her. "Why?"
"He had an accident," Dallas said. "One of his fingers got chopped off. This one, I think." Dallas extended the middle finger of his right hand.
The two hoods surged forward, but Travis waved them back. "You really must want to die young. And stupid."
Dallas shrugged. "It's true. He lost a finger."
"How?"
"It's a long story."
"I got time."
"We were out in the barn when he came busting in. He tripped, fell, and knocked himself out. I don't know what he cut his finger on, but it took that sucker clean off."
Travis stared at Dallas, then turned to Marti and let his gaze wander over her. Dallas watched, stone-faced, as the little worm inspected Marti like a glutton lusting for dessert.
"Why're you hangin' around with this parachute junkie?" Travis asked. "You've got way more class than that."
Marti put her hand on Dallas's arm. He could feel a slight tremble, though her voice remained steady. "He's got some good points."
"Yeah, sure." Travis crossed his arms. "So, out of the goodness of your hearts, you took Leon to the hospital?"
"You could say that."
"Well, guess what? You're going back." Travis motioned to his henchmen. One of them grabbed Marti while the other opened the car door. The first one checked her for weapons, running his hands over her body, obviously enjoying the assignment.
Dallas’s control evaporated. He lunged toward the aggressor. Travis jammed the muzzle of his gun into Dallas’s nose and brought him up short while the gunman forced Marti into the back of the car.
"Relax, Airborne," Travis said. "You got other things to worry about. Like the seven grand you owe me."
"Seven!" His heartbeat loud in his ears, Dallas stalled, trying to think his way out of the predicament.
"Assuming Leon’s okay, I'll be back tomorrow to collect."
"This isn’t the Middle East. You don’t need a hostage," Dallas said. "I’ll get the money. I'm selling this place."
"By tomorrow? Good. I've already waited too long." He waved his gun. "You want the girl--bring the money." He climbed into the front of the car while one of the goons got in back with Marti. The other drove Leon's car.
Travis rolled the window down. "'Course, if Leon isn't exactly where she says he is, you're both dead." He glanced at his watch. "I'll be back tomorrow, around five."
Travis gunned the engine and sprayed gravel as he roared off. As soon as they drove out of sight, Dallas raced to the workshop. Certain he’d get no help from the local authorities, such as they were, he rushed to gather whatever he'd need to revive Gramp--the only reinforcements he might be able to count on. He forced the anger from his mind as he worked. Marti deserved his best efforts, Pinnel his worst.
The time-to-volume table they'd developed for unthawing steaks and rednecks lay on the workbench. Dallas moved it closer to the defroster.
He wrapped his arms around Gramp and dragged the statue-like figure across the room. They'd used a block and tackle to hoist Leon into the box, and Dallas used the same rig to position Marti's grandfather. Before lowering him, Dallas hurriedly checked him for anything made of metal. He yanked Gramp's belt through the loops on his trousers and dropped it on the floor. He couldn't get Gramp's wedding band over his knuckle until he located some lubricant and smeared it on. Satisfied, he lowered him the rest of the way.
He set the timer according to their calculations and cursed himself for not paying more attention when Marti handled the cardiac paddles. After tearing open Gramp's shirt, Dallas closed and latched the door of the chamber.
"God, I hope this works," he said, then flipped the switch.
As the timer clicked through an eternity of minutes, he tried to remember what Marti had done with the defibrillator. He struggled to concentrate, but thoughts of the gunman with his hands all over her kept intruding. He shook it off, spread gel on the paddles, and squished them together. Unsure he had enough, he added another dollop of the clear goo and smeared that around, too.
There were two triggers on one paddle, and only one on the other. He pressed the odd-colored one and was rewarded with the same high-pitched whine Marti got when she charged the paddles for Leon.
When the timer clicked off, Dallas shoved Gramp into position, and connected him to the heart monitor as he'd seen Marti do to Leon. He prayed he'd gotten the electrodes in the right places.
It was time. He pressed the paddles to Gramp's chest, and pulled one of the dual triggers. Nothing happened.
After allowing himself an instant of frozen fear, Dallas tried again using both triggers. The paddles discharged with a loud pop. The current rocked Gramp, surged through the metal walls of the chamber Dallas was leaning against, and knocked him to the floor.
Sprawled on the concrete, he remained semi-conscious for a while, but eventually stood and rubbed his bruised posterior.
About the same time, Gramp sat up, groaned, and rubbed his head. "Sweet Jesus, Eli, what happened?" He blinked repeatedly, then squinted at Dallas. "Who the hell are you?"
~*~
Marti and her guard stayed in the car while Travis went into the Regional Medical Center to find Leon. He seemed to have been gone for hours. Marti looked away from the thug, but couldn’t shake the feel of the man’s stare. It invaded and repulsed her.
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she pivoted to escape. Just the thought of his touch made her stomach heave.
"C'mon baby, how 'bout lettin' me search you again?"
As he reached for her chest, the realization of what he was about to do dawned almost as an afterthought. The bastard was going to--was--touching her!
She slapped his face and had drawn back for another when he grabbed her wrist.
"You like it rough? Me, too."
She jerked her arm free. "Keep away or I'll tell your boss." She hoped the quaver in her voice wasn't too obvious.
"He don't care."
"Well I do, so back off!"
"Anything you say, sweetness." He blew her a kiss. "I'll save it for later, but you’ve got a real treat in store."
Her stomach still churning, Marti noticed a copy of the Savannah Star on the dashboard, and began to form a plan. "How about letting me see the paper."
His smile featured nicotine-stained teeth. "Sure. Just don’t forget about our little date." He handed it to her, and she quickly folded it to expose the crossword puzzle. After pulling a mechanical pencil from her purse, she began to fill in the squares.
Marti pretended to concentrate on the puzzle until the hood turned his head to watch an attractive woman in a short skirt saunter by. As he swiveled to follow her, Marti took a deep breath and a firm grip on the pencil. When he'd turned completely away, she rammed it hard into his thigh and bore down on the makeshift weapon until it ground into bone.
His scream brought everyone in the parking lot to a halt, staring at them.
Marti tore the pencil from his leg. "I haven’t forgotten anything."
As soon as he grabbed the wound, Marti rammed the pencil down again, forcing the bloody instrument through the meaty part of his left hand and into his right.
As his second scream trailed off, she glared at him. "But I almost forgot this." She elbowed him in the nose and felt something break. There were some advantages to growing up in a tough neighborhood, she decided.
The back door wouldn't open, thanks to child-safety locks, so Marti scrambled over the seat back and got out throu
gh the driver's side. Exhilarated, she backed quickly away from the car and looked up in time to see Travis leave the hospital and break into a run toward her.
Marti spun away from him and followed a course that also angled away from the creep in the car. The area teemed with people in uniforms, but none of them wore a badge. Now she wished she hadn't changed into the sun dress. Her work shoes and coveralls would have made an escape much easier. Cursing her stylish, but traction-free sandals, Marti moved as quickly as she could. If finding sanctuary in the Medical Center buildings proved impossible, she might be able to lose herself in the shopping center across the highway.
She risked a quick look back. Instead of following her, Travis had gone to the car. She saw a cloud of exhaust as he started the engine and backed out of the parking space.
Marti kept running until a van sheltered her from Travis's view, then she crouched down and began to work her way toward the hospital. Her breath came in ragged gulps as she tried to force her heart rate down near a normal zone.
Travis drove his big Buick between the rows. After a few trips through the lot he stopped the vehicle, and the wounded thug stumbled out, gun in hand. As Marti neared the edge of the lot, Travis slalomed around a corner and bore down on her.
Abandoning stealth, Marti raced toward the building. As tires squealed behind her, she reached the sidewalk thirty yards from safety.
"Stop!" Travis screamed.
Marti kept running.
"I'll shoot!"
Dodging past a nurse pushing a man in a wheelchair, Marti allowed herself a flicker of hope. The hospital doors were only a dozen yards away, and already open as someone left the building. An escape route forming in her mind, Marti slowed to avoid a collision and took another hurried look back at Travis. He'd given up! He just stood beside his car, scowling.
Nearly giddy with relief, Marti didn't even recognize the two men leaving the building. Leon grabbed her with his good hand while the second hood just smiled.
~*~
After Dallas explained what had happened, the man sat motionless, staring at his wedding band and Dallas's digital watch in his hand.
"I'm really sorry," Dallas said. "I didn't even think how upsetting this--"
"Upsetting? Why the hell should I be upset? When I got up this morning I had a wife and daughter--now they're gone! Along with the only friend I had."