Mayford, Texas, was a rural community situated in the central part of the state. The town of five thousand had one consolidated K-12 school, a volunteer fire department, a Sheriff’s substation, a few gas stations, a bar, a convenience store, and a junkyard.
+++++The junkyard was owned by Rupert Walcott, a widower who started it thirty years ago when Mayford still had the Reddi-Right detergent factory in operation. Since its closure fifteen years ago, the town and Rupert’s junkyard business have been in a steady decline.
+++++Rupert was what you might call a generalist. He parted out any type of vehicle, dating back to the nineteen-sixties. These days, he’d take pretty much anything he could find, regardless of condition. He relied heavily on Reedsville, a large town 35 miles south, to source his inventory.
+++++Despite various efforts to grow his business, he was only able to eke out a meager living for himself and his two part-time dismantlers, Jimmy Ray Farnsworth and Richie Wells. They were both high school dropouts who were drinking buddies and shared a run-down single-wide outskirts of town.
+++++It was Monday morning when Rupert hit pay dirt. A garbage truck had plowed into the back of a Mercedes sedan, rendering it a total loss. A quick call to his contact at the insurance company resulted in him getting the car for peanuts, and it would arrive that evening.
+++++He knew this was the type of vehicle those city-slicker body shops from Reedsville would jump all over. Parts from premium cars demanded premium prices. The Mercedes was a rear-end collision, which meant the interior, engine, and front clip were all valuable sources of cash—cash he always needed. He could smell the money.
+++++But after the initial euphoria dissipated, he realized he had a problem. He was tied up that evening with the Elks club, and Jimmy Ray and Richie bowled in a league on Monday nights at the bowling alley in Reedsville. He approached them, but they weren’t biting. Even throwing some extra cash their way didn’t motivate them to abandon their weekly ritual, especially since they were so close to the semi-finals.
+++++He’d need someone he could trust to handle the delivery and payment, which, according to the insurance company carrier, would be between nine and eleven o’clock. But who?
+++++The phone rang, and it was his daughter. Single, divorced, with no kids, and always in a state of high drama. He braced himself, expecting her typical hysteria.
+++++“Hi, Dad. It’s Kelly.”
+++++“Hi, sweetheart. How are things?” He cringed at his stupidity. The last thing he wanted to do was open up that spigot, which could result in an hour’s worth of ‘woe is me.’
+++++“Not so good, Dad. I think I might be getting laid off.”
+++++Rupert rolled his eyes. “From the laundromat? What gives?”
+++++“The boss, Mr. Baskum, is complaining about business being slow. Then I heard he’s trying to sell.” She sighed. “I guess I’m doomed to never find a decent job.”
+++++Rupert waited for it.
+++++“Although it pains me to ask, I’m kind of in a bind. Could you spot me some money? My rent is due, and Mr. Baskum has already cut my hours.”
+++++Rupert rolled his eyes. She was like a broken record. Gets hired, gets fired, then she has her hand out. He was about to tell her ‘no’ when an idea popped into his head.
+++++“You know, I think we might be able to work something out.”
+++++“Gee, that’d be great, Dad. I could really use a couple of hundred to tide me over.”
+++++“Well, I don’t think I can do that much, Kelly. But what I can do is if you help me with something, I can probably do a hundred twenty-five?”
+++++After a pregnant pause, she said, “What exactly did you have in mind?”
+++++“A tow truck is coming tonight to deliver a Benz that some jerk rear-ended in Reedsville. I need someone to sign off with the driver and pay them. Then, have them park it in the yard, close up the place, and set the alarm. That’s it.”
+++++She huffed. “Why can’t your guys do it?”
+++++“Bowling league,” he said sheepishly.
+++++“You’ve got to be kidding me. Those half-wits can’t miss a game to keep their boss happy?”
+++++“Help is hard to find, Kelly. They don’t call out often, and they do their job. I’d hate to piss them off, and they quit.”
+++++“Ugh! When is the delivery, Dad?” she sighed.
+++++“Sometime between nine and eleven tonight. I have the Elks tonight, and I’m leading the meeting. Otherwise, I’d stay.” When the phone went silent, Rupert tried to stay calm so he didn’t sound desperate. That could cost him.
+++++“Okay,” Kelly replied. “Consider it my good deed for the day. But I’ll need one hundred fifty.”
+++++Rupert anticipated the shake-down, but this he could afford. “Okay, if you’re going to twist my arm over it.”
+++++“Sometimes your arm needs twisting, Dad. I’ll be over shortly to pick up the keys and then return before nine.”
+++++“Sounds good,” he replied, then hung up, thrilled he didn’t have to miss the Elks dinner meeting. Meatloaf, his favorite, was on the menu.

***

Kelly Walcott was the spitting image of her mother. She was a bit over 5’7” with blonde hair and a good figure, residuals from when she was a star volleyball player in high school. She pulled up in her twenty-year-old Toyota Corolla and walked over to her dad’s office inside the gated yard. The night sky had a foreboding look to it; dreary with a nip in the air.
+++++After she grunted, “Hello, Dad”, her father smiled and handed her the keys.
+++++“It’ll probably be Jimmy from ACE towing. Have him put the car in the yard, tail end out, pay him with what’s in this envelope, and have him sign the enclosed receipt. Lock up the yard and don’t forget to turn off the heat in the office. Here’s your one-fifty. Hope it helps.”
+++++A disappointed look crossed her face as she took the cash, knowing her old man could afford the extra fifty, but she wasn’t going to make a thing over it. She knew she’d be back for more if she couldn’t find work and didn’t want to burn that bridge.
+++++She lit a cigarette. “Anything else I should know, Dad?”
+++++“We’ve had a problem with Armadillos lately. They’ve been nesting in some of the vehicles. Rex does a pretty good job keeping them away, but it seems to be a losing proposition.”
+++++“Well, what do you expect? Rex has got to be at least six years old. In dog years, he’s probably as old as you.”
+++++“More like eight, but who’s counting,” he laughed. “Call me if anything comes up. My meeting is usually over by ten thirty. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume everything went okay. You can drop the keys off tomorrow.”
+++++“What if the guy doesn’t show by eleven? I don’t want to die of old age here.”
+++++Rupert shrugged. “I guess you give him another half hour. But call me if he’s a no-show. I can always relieve you after my meeting is over.”
+++++“Okay. Roger that,” she said, saluting. The same salute she gave him as a snarky teenager. Rupert shook his head. “Remember to set the alarm. I’ve got to run.”

***

Kelly settled in. She put up a pot of coffee, grabbed some Twinkies from her father’s hidden stash, flipped on the small TV on the opposite side of the office, and proceeded to channel surf. She hoped the car would arrive sooner rather than later so she could get out of there and meet Tommy Lanzetti, her new flame, at the Half Moon Tavern.
+++++She thought she heard a car door slam, and Rex’s ears perked up. How lucky could she get! It had only been thirty minutes, and hopefully, the truck had arrived. She picked up her phone as she walked to the office window. She tried to call Tommy to let him know it was game on, and she could meet him earlier. Instead of hearing his voice, she got a pre-recorded message.

“We regret to inform you that due to damage sustained at the Mayford Cell Tower, there will temporarily be no cell service until it is restored. You will receive a text message when service has resumed. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Shit!” she exclaimed. Damn straight it’s an inconvenience.” She got up and looked out the office window only to discover that there was no tow truck outside.
+++++Now, if she were lucky enough to get out early, she’d go by his house to see if he was there. If not, she’d head to the tavern, and hopefully he’d be there.
+++++When she looked out the window, the front access gate was still closed, there was no tow truck in sight, and no street traffic in front of the salvage yard.
+++++Rex began pacing in front of the office door, so she let him out, just as she heard another car door slam. She turned and reached for the flashlight hanging by the door. Rex was pacing the yard, traveling down the rows of cars, sniffing the air, then nose to the ground.
+++++“That’s odd, I’m sure I heard a car door close,” she muttered. She cautiously walked outside and listened. The wind was picking up, making the rusty metallic heaps that surrounded the office groan, as if in pain. Then she spotted a car full of teenagers across the street. She watched as they switched drivers. “That must have been it,” she sighed and took a deep breath. The dog was nowhere to be found.
+++++Kelly let out a whistle. “Rex, come here, boy. Are you okay?”
+++++She tensed as she heard something approaching her quickly from behind. It was Rex, all seventy-five pounds of him, barreling toward the open office door, probably headed for the treat jar.
+++++“Silly old boy,” she chuckled in relief, following him inside and handing him a treat. Still unsettled about the door closings, she hoped it was just the teenagers she spotted. But something nagged at her. She stuck her head outdoors and listened again, only to be met with the sound of cicadas sounding their mating call in the June heat.
+++++She shrugged, ducked back inside, shut the door, paused, then locked it. A chill ran through her, so she put on some coffee and grabbed the remote off the desk. After flipping channels, she settled in on WKLC, the local news station. A news bulletin scrolling across the screen caught her eye.
+++++Prison Break at Benton Correctional.
+++++A serious-looking female news anchor was reciting the details. Kelly sat down, eyes riveted on the flickering screen.

“This just in: An all-points bulletin has been issued on an escaped convict—Lenny, the slasher Quinn, who, with an accomplice, escaped Benton Correctional, hidden in a laundry bin, and commandeered the laundry truck for their getaway. The laundry truck driver’s body was found in the brush outside of Holtsville, stabbed multiple times. His accomplice, Ralph Jenkins, was found with his throat slashed near the abandoned laundry truck. State troopers have determined, after reviewing traffic cam footage, that Lenny is now driving a stolen white Ford sedan, heading south on I-75. All regional law enforcement is on high alert. Please exercise extreme caution as this man is armed and a ruthless killer. We are awaiting his photo from Benton Correctional and will post it shortly. We’ll be updating this story as the facts unfold.”

A chill ran down her spine. “Holtsville? That’s less than an hour north of here on I-75!” She quickly shut off the television, knowing that putting a face to the name would cause her anxiety to skyrocket. She tried calling her father, then the police, but the cell tower was still down. Her heart started to race. She looked at Rex panting in the corner of the room, visibly agitated.
+++++He must be picking up my anxiety, she thought. “Rex, we’re getting out of here before anything bad happens, okay?
+++++The dog came and sat by her side as she began to pack up. “I don’t give a crap about the drop off. It’s not worth the risk. Dad will just have to understand and reschedule it, hopefully after they catch this lunatic.”
+++++She was throwing her things into her handbag when Rex let out a low growl. Kelly ran to the window but saw nothing. She looked at her useless phone, wondering whether she should chance going outside. She stood motionless, straining to hear anything that seemed suspicious, but came up with nothing.
+++++Her anxiety was escalating. Rex started scratching at the base of the office door.
+++++She covered her face with her hands. “Shit! I’m gonna die in this shitty office!”
+++++She sighed, then looked at Rex, wondering whether letting him outside would deter any attacker long enough for her to reach her car and drive to safety. He could be pretty aggressive when he needed to be.
+++++Her eyes watered. “Rex, sorry to say this. But you may have to take one for the team.”
+++++The obedient dog looked up, his eyes riveted on her. She unlocked the door and grabbed the handle. “Go and see who is out there, Rex.”
+++++Rex perked up as she shut everything down and grabbed her keys. She cracked the door open. “Go get him, boy!”
+++++The dog shot out of the doorway and charged into the yard, barking loudly. Meanwhile, Kelly sprinted toward the gate to unlock it and access her car, but then she spotted a pair of headlights turning into the junkyard’s access road. As it pulled closer, she saw it was the tow truck with the Mercedes on it.
+++++Her shoulders dropped. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she sighed as the anxiety and tension drained from her body. She unlocked the gate for the truck and waved him in. He stopped beside her, rolled his window down, and flashed her a smile. He looked fit, probably in his early forties.
+++++“Hi. I believe I have something you want.”
+++++His smile disarmed her. “Oh. Yes. That’s great. Can you pull it into the back lot and park it with the tail end out?”
+++++“Sure thing, ma’am,” he said, putting the truck into gear.
+++++“Great. Come to the office after you’re done, and I will get you all squared away.”
+++++As he pulled away, her shoulders dropped. “Foolish me!” she sighed and looked for Rex. “Probably chasing an Armadillo,” she muttered. If this Lester Quinn guy did show up, the tow truck operator looked like he could make quick work of him, she pondered. Regardless, she’d be glad to get out of there and head over to the tavern. She needed a drink.
+++++He unloaded the car and walked into the office. She had a form he needed to sign and his cash in an envelope.
+++++“You must be Jimmy,” Kelly said. “Ace’s High Towing, right?”
+++++“No, Jimmy called in sick, but you got the name of the tow company right,” he laughed. “Man, that car took some hit. I bet the driver has got a wicked case of whiplash.”
+++++“Yep, that’s a given,” she said, handing him the payment envelope. “I just need you to sign this receipt for the money. Then we’ll be all set.”
+++++He smiled as he counted it. “How’d you end up with the short end of the stick, stuck here waiting for me?”
+++++Their conversation was interrupted when Rex frantically started scratching the outside of the office door. “Hold your horses, Rex,” Kelly yelled.
+++++While examining the form he signed, she replied, “Got stuck doing someone a favor. I’ll be outta here once you leave.” The dog continued to scratch at the door frenetically.
+++++“Forgive my impatient mutt. ”
+++++He nodded. “I had a dog once that was just like that,” he said, looking out the window. “No worries. I’ll take care of him on the way out.”
+++++“Thanks. You’re a real Boy Scout,” she chuckled, examining the form. “Hey, I’m having a bit of trouble reading the signature. What’s your name?” she asked, looking up.
+++++“It’s Lenny, Lenny Quinn,” he replied with a twisted grin as he slowly eased the serrated hunting knife from his back pocket.

[Image Credit : Photo by Milad Fakurian on Unsplash]

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B.L. Stevens

B.L. Stevens lives in central North Carolina with his family and beloved dog, Ziva. He is an active member of the SCBWI Carolinas and various online writing forums. When not toiling away on his laptop writing his next piece of fiction, he enjoys exercising, abstract painting, struggling with guitar, and fixing old cars. You can learn more about him at www.blstevens.com.

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