Blogtober 2023, Day 17: Rendezvous
It’s like so many other things in life
to which you must say no or yes.
So you take your car to the new mechanic.
Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.
Thomas R. Smith, Trust
The men stomped through the weeds to the back of Marshal’s house. Where a door once hung, a thick graffiti-riddled sheet of plywood protected the entrance.
“I don’t suppose you have a crowbar in that satchel of yours,” said Glen to the man. “Or do you just keep guns in it?”
“Not a crowbar, no.” The man stepped away from the backdoor to a dingy window. He tiptoed and peered into the kitchen. Inside were only some ramshackle cabinets without doors remained. A single can of soup sat on the counter.
“I should’ve stayed with the girls,” Spencer said. His back was to the house, facing toward Carrie and Liz.
“Those young women are fine. We shall rendezvous with them once we have searched this house.” The man pointed at a softball-sized object to his right at the corner of the house. “Spencer, my boy, be a sport and fetch me that large stone.”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Glen asked. The man didn’t reply.
Spencer looked at Glen for guidance only to receive a shrug in return. He walked over to where the stone lay. As bent to retrieve it, a shadowy movement from the other end of the house caught his eye. He spilled backward with a gasp.