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Vacation Home-Short Story

3K views 14 replies 13 participants last post by  30Carbine 
#1 ·
Hello All!
Not sure if any of you remember me, but I posted my first novel on here a while back-The Expedition, with Wes, Elmo and Durward?
The Expedition has been thoroughly edited and will be published and on Amazon sometime in the summer. In the interim, I have been very busy but have been working on Expedition 2, which is coming along pretty well.
In doing so, I guess I needed to clear some cobwebs out. So,I cranked out this short story. Here it is in it's entirety. Enjoy and please, any and all comments are welcome.
30C


Vacation Home

Copyright 2017
By M. Asbury



I


May 5,2020 6:44 PM
5150 Route 17 Spring Hope, Ohio


Les Hartman negotiated the U-Haul around the final hairpin curve on Route 17 before his driveway finally sprang into view.
Route 17- a curvy one lane gravel county road-ran- three miles from Route 25 and eventually petered out into a gravel cul-de-sac.
Les and Carmen’s new home was situated fifty or so yards from the cul-de-sac and their nearest neighbor was a half mile away. Thiers was the last house on this road and this made each of them happy to no end. In the U-Haul, Les had the final load from their previous home- a modest two-bedroom home in Springfield. The neighborhood there was getting so bad that they were worried that someone would break in and steal all their possessions before they could even move to their new place. But here they were, four trips later, 104 miles each way and he was backing in the last load. He knew he would be sore tomorrow.
Les took off the seatbelt and checking his mirrors, carefully backed the 24’ U-Haul into the driveway. Setting the air brakes and shutting the engine off, he opened the door and slid to the ground. Stretching vigorously, he glanced towards the barn and was pleasantly surprised to see three does that must have been grazing in his lawn and were now bolting towards the tree line, their large white tails springing up with every leap and bound. Awesome. He thought. Moving out here was sure a pain, and not cheap, but so worth it. He watched the does. I shall name you roast. He thought looking at the largest one. “And you are summer sausage”. He said to the other. He chuckled softly.

What aggravation they had suffered in buying the house. Not the price, although it was more than they both wanted to spend. It had exceeded their budget by eleven thousand. No, it was the incompetence of everyone they dealt with. No one seemed to communicate with each other. Both Les and his wife were not strangers to home buying- they had each purchased one with their exes. But this closing- this one was one for the ages. It had taken nine months all told, to close. They had considered calling it off more than once. But they knew this is the home they had wanted. None other would do. Several mortgage companies, realtors, contractors and appraisers later, they had finally closed on their dream house. A mere eight days earlier as a matter of fact.
Carmen had called it their vacation home when they first made an offer, even though they would be living here all the time. Vacation Home was appropriate, because every day when they got home from work, they would be on vacation. Les looked at the house admiringly again, a one hundred and thirty-eight-year-old farmhouse with a modern addition. Two thousand three hundred square feet. So much room. He thought. The plans they had for the place were staggering, the projects many. Finally, after forty-three years, Les finally had what he had always wanted in a home. Land, seclusion, water and hunting.
The home came with eighteen acres, a nice sized creek across Route 17. There was plenty of hunting close to home. Deer, squirrel and rabbit. There was fishing in the creek. They had plenty of acreage for a nice garden and a three water sources. Blackwater creek, a spring several feet behind the house and a well. Yeah, this’ll do. He thought, eyes wandering all over the landscape in front of their new home.

The does disappeared into the woods as his wife Carmen’s Civic pulled into the driveway beside the U haul. Les stretched his back one last time and slowly headed towards the truck to unload the final load. C’mon, Les, let’s get it over with, you’ll never have to move again. He thought happily.

Seventeen minutes later, Les and Carmen sat on their wraparound front porch, each enjoying a cold beer. The two moving dollies sat abandoned on the stone sidewalk after only making one trip into the house.
It was Carmen’s fault. “What say we knock off early and hit it hard in the AM?” She said from the cargo area looking down the ramp at Les.
Les did not have to be told twice. “Cool beans.” He answered. “I’ll get the cooler.”
“I’ll get the camp chairs.”

The sun hung low in the trees, highlighting the low ridge across from their front porch as it slowly slipped out of sight. Carmen and Les were silent as they took in the sights and sounds of their new home. With no more trips to the old house and having the next two days off from work, they were about as relaxed as any two people can get.
Carmen suddenly reached over and grabbed Les’s hand and squeezed. He looked at her, leaned over and gave her a long kiss. “We did good didn’t we honey?” He asked, looking in her face.
She looked around and then back at him. “Yeah we did babe.”
They both grew silent again as they listened to the owls, wild turkeys and cicadas fighting to be heard and the fish jumping in the creek. Les and Carmen enjoyed one more beer then went to bed, sleeping on the floor in the dining room. With no police sirens, gunshots or hoopdies sans mufflers speeding by their house, they slept peacefully, the best sleep either of them had in a long while.



II


July 6,2020 6:14 PM
Sally’s Quick Stop
Winchester, Ohio


Les whipped Carmen’s Civic into the last parking space in the front of the convenience store. Sally’s was the only store of any kind close to his house and it even it couldn’t be considered close, being over twenty minutes away. But, it was on the way home from work and way better than driving an additional twenty-five minutes to the nearest Kroger. Sally’s was overpriced and perpetually busy, but Car texted and said she needed eggs.
Les wasted no time getting to the dairy section of Sally’s and grabbed a dozen eggs. There was only two people in line and if he hurried, he may beat the others surely headed in for their Bud Light and cigarettes. It was Friday night after all. Turning around and walking swiftly back toward the cash register, Les scanned the counter. Victory. There was only one person in line and Les quickly stepped in behind him, glad that this would indeed be a quick stop, for once.
Les wanted to get home quickly. After leaving work, he stopped by a gun store where .223 ammo was on sale. If you could call it a sale. Les bit the bullet figuratively and bought a thousand rounds. It was very expensive-$ 679.00 for 62 grain - but he suspected the price would steadily rise. He was in a hurry to go home and add it to his inventory and bore sight and sight in an Enfield he just picked up at a show a week earlier. He had drilled and tapped his own mounts and wanted to check his work.

Randall Morgan Wright parked his lifted F-150 in the handicapped parking place adjacent to the front door of Sally’s. He leisurely opened his door and jumped to the ground, his Nasty boots making dull thuds on the pavement. The boots were customized by him, each toe having a metal guard, similar to what was on motocross boots. One swift kick from Randall in the shin, kidneys, face or wherever, usually ended with the victim dropping quickly. Randall -never Randy. Never-ever Randy, was not a nice guy.
Randall spotted an ex-girlfriend sitting in her car as he approached the door of Sally’s while at that same time, Les was stepping up to the counter. Randall made a quick detour towards her car. Spotting Randall, Jennifer quickly tossed out her Marlboro butt, threw the car into gear and sped away. No way was she going to talk to him. Randall was a mite chagrined to say the least. Last Randall had heard, Jennifer was dating some guy that worked at the same place he did, a Billy something or other. Randall would find him and talk to him Monday and let him know how rude his girlfriend was.
Randall spat as he watched Jennifer turn onto Route 25 and disappear. Randall turned back towards Sally’s slowly, pausing to light a Kool when he happened to glance in the back seat and floor boards of a bright green Civic parked beside him. There was a butt-load of ammo in there. He could plainly read it on the boxes. He could most definitely use that. His own meager stash of .223’s had been exhausted two weekends before at his buddy Rag’s place. And being three months behind on his child support to Bitchy-Poo, he could hardly afford more, not that she was going to get any money anyway. Randall tried the rear door. Locked. Quickly, he tried the passenger front. Also, locked. He glanced toward the doors of Sally’s. Someone was coming out.
With President Pelosi passing more and more restrictive gun and ammo laws, ammo of any caliber was getting as high as the Georgia pines. This guy must be loaded. Randall thought. He had an epiphany. Plus, he had nothing better to do.
Randall trotted back to his truck, hurriedly jumped in, fired it up and was pulling around to the rear of the store as Les emerged.

Les opened the door of the Civic and was backing out in ten seconds. Turning right onto Route 25 he accelerated quickly. Randall pulled out behind him.

Les did not notice the truck following behind. His mind was elsewhere. He drove the eighteen miles to Route 17 doing just above the speed limit, watching for the town cops that hid in every little burg that he passed through.

Les made a quick left onto Route 17 and accelerated, grinning when the car lost traction rounding the curves. He could drive faster after the third curve, because there was nobody living past that point except for him. He shifted into fourth.
Randall slowed and watched as his ammo turned onto Route17.
Being born and raised in this area, he knew every road. Route 17 was deserted except for two or three houses. He smiled. Randall drove slow enough until the Honda rounded the first curve. He turned onto Route 17 and drove slowly. He rolled his windows down, listening. The little Honda was still accelerating. He drove on slowly.

Les whipped her Civic into the driveway and jumped out. He spotted Carmen on the porch, reading a book.
“You get my eggs Mister?” she asked with mock severity.
“Yes ma’am, now, would you kindly get off my back?” He answered with mock irritation.
Les bent down and gave her a long kiss. It was a rule that every day they would spend at least fifteen uninterrupted seconds kissing. Carmen stood and taking the eggs from him stepped into the house. “Dinner will be ready in forty-five.”
“Okie -Dokie.” He answered, I got some stuff to put away.”
“You get your bullets?”
“Yep. One thousand rounds.”
“How much?”
He dreaded this part. They had a great relationship and marriage, but she was never that much into shooting, or prepping for that matter. She supported him because it was important to him. But seven hundred bucks worth of shells might not go over so well.
“Hello? You there? How much were they?” She asked again.
“Um, six and some change.”
“Six? As in six hundred?”
“Affirmative.”
“Are you insane? You already got like a million rounds now. And you need more?”
“Yes.”
Silence. They would discuss this at dinner he was sure of it. He stepped off the porch and went to the Honda to retrieve his treasures. All one thousand of them.

Randall watched from a distance as Les carried the ammo in the side door of the house.
Randall turned and was getting ready to leave, but decided he was in no danger of being discovered. He quickly walked back to his truck, opened the hood and reaching in his tool box, got an empty anti-freeze jug. Now, he could get closer and have a reason to be there.

“Listen babe. I know it’s a lot of money now, but believe me, it’s money in the bank. Especially now. With all the laws and bills Congress are passing and the ones they are trying to pass, pretty soon it will be almost impossible to buy ammo at any price.”
“Les, you say that about everything. And what if it isn’t impossible to get and the price drops?”
“Well, I’m a huge idiot then. And I will owe you big time.”
Carmen looked at Les evenly for a minute. He was an idiot, but she loved him. Les was searching her face to see if he was still in trouble. She must’ve gave herself away, because his face relaxed and he grabbed her around the waist.
“Holy Crap Les. Six hundred for bullets? You already have a million of those green cans, but whatever. You will owe me. Big time. Even if you are right.”
“Actually, it was six hundred seventy-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents plus tax.” He quickly changed the subject, one of his forte’s. “Wow. That really smells good babe.” Les said sheepishly. Carmen spun around glaring and smacked him playfully in the face with a wet dishrag.
“So eighty dollars is ‘and change’ to you?” She asked her brow starting to furrow. Meanwhile, Les had maneuvered his right hand to the sink sprayer. He let go with a cold stream of well water, soaking her back. The water battle raged on for twenty minutes.

That was all Randall needed to hear. The distraction of them goofing around in the kitchen would be a good time to slip away. He would need to think about this. This was big. Randall thought. This was more than just a few boxes of ammo. Why would you have all that ammo if you did not have the guns to go with it? A million ammo cans the chick had said. He knew it was not literal, but dude must have a bunch at least.
Plus, as a bonus, the woman was kinda hot. A very nice body from what he seen. Randall thought. I need to watch the place first, watch their patterns and catch it when they are gone. Or, wait for her to be here alone. He smiled in the darkness, crouching as he headed to his truck. He would need to be smart about this. He would be smart and not get caught. He steals the dude’s guns and ammo and whatever else valuable he may have and sits on it for at least a year. As for the woman, it would be nice, but only if convenient. He had no problem getting tail. But still, she looked good from what he saw.
Randall shut the hood as quietly as he could, then climbed into the cab when he remembered he left his jug on the ground underneath the kitchen window. Randall hesitated, then dismissed it. “Hell, he ain’t gonna think twice about that. He’ll think it blowed in his yard.” He said to no one. He started the F-150 and drove slowly, the headlights off until he was around the second curve.


III


July 13,2020 9:56 PM
5150 Route 17 Spring Hope, Ohio

Randall put the binoculars and four empty Natty light cans in the bookbag, and made a methodical search to ensure he had not missed anything.
He had their schedules figured out. She worked kinda odd days. But she left and returned close to the same time when she did leave. The dude was a regular as clockwork. Left at the same time every day, got home within fifteen minutes, give or take, at the same time every day.
In watching them for a little over a week, Randall noticed that their house and garage were well fortified. Anti-kick plates on every door, secure windows, double deadbolts. And flood lights. Those were added a week before, but they were hardly ever used. They weren’t even on a motion sensor.
He didn’t get it. Don’t they ever go out on a Friday? Go see a movie? Something?? He wondered. They always come home after work every day. They did have visitors, but usually the same couple driving a blue SUV.
They did have a big party, two weeks before. It was starting to get loud and a little crazy when he decided he should leave, afraid he would get discovered by a dude strolling over to take a leak. Before he split, some chick got ripped, took off her bikini top and ran around the yard. He stayed for that.
Randall was lying on the riverbank, his head above the edge framed by cattails. The road was a little over six feet from where he now was. He had a great vantage point of the house and garage. Hell, he could even see in two of the windows. Additionally, the river was a natural escape route. Randall took one last look and slipped below the edge of the river bank and started heading to his truck- parked about a mile away behind an abandoned diner-one of those roadside dives that seemed to get a new owner every year or two and then fail again without a whimper.
He had the day that he would go. On Saturday evenings, they would go out for about two hours, sometime only ninety minutes. He would have to move fast and be ready every Saturday from now on. He would love to do it during the week, but he could not miss any work and he never knew if she would be home or not. The biggest problem was his truck. He would need it close by so he could load the booty, he couldn’t carry it all, he hoped so anyway- but where could he park it? Randall briefly thought about getting a buddy to help, but dismissed it. His buddies were all idiots that would be incapable in keeping a secret. Randall mediated on this as he slowly made his way in the dark along the creek bed to Route 25. For there he would stay ten feet or so in the tree line and walk parallel to Route 25 until he reached his truck, walking the same trail he had followed two to three times a week for thirteen days.



July 21, 2020 6:39 AM
5150 Route 17 Spring Hope, Ohio

Les shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his face. Carmen sat at the table cup of coffee in her hand, her face bathed in cool blue light cast from her laptop.
“Friday at last. Wow, you can get on this early?” He asked her, referring to the rural internet they had, which was horrible. Les got a coffee cup from the cupboard.
“Honey, I think you need to see this.” She said grimly. Les finished filling his cup, and sat down beside her.

Executive order signed by President Pelosi: Proposed Ammunition Ban. Recreational ammunition for all calibers. Surplus ammo must be turned in at local law enforcement by end of month.
(UPN_ Washington)
Anti-gun proponents are praising President Pelosi’s latest effort to rid the country of gun violence.
“This is what we had to happen to rid the means to commit these horrific crimes.” Said Juliette Margolin, a presidential spokesperson. “The quicker this is accomplished, the faster we will enjoy peace. We were finding it difficult to ban the weapons themselves, so as you know we focused on the ammunition they use instead.” When asked about those enthusiasts that manufacture their own ammunition, Ms. Margolin stated “We have not forgot about those individuals, we are currently working on legislation to address that very issue.”
The new ban will take effect August 11 at 12:01AM. After that point all ammunition sales of any caliber must be endorsed by the bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.
“We understand there will be a period of adjustment.” Said Buford Lisceten. Assistant to the Assistant Deputy Director of Communication for the ATF. “Rest assured the ATF will address all your concerns in time.”
Meanwhile, the National Rifle Association has railed against the Pelosi administration stating that this is a deliberate attack on law-abiding citizens.



“Holy Crap. Les said with a loud sigh pushing the laptop away from him. This is gonna change everything.”
“Surely this won’t fly.” Carmen said.
“It might and don’t call me Shirley.” Les said without a smile. But it won’t need to- the damage has been done. Ammo of any kind will be extremely hard to find. And crazy high.
“Article said the 11th. So, after then will it be illegal to have bullets?” Carmen asked.
“I don’t know, hopefully they will institute a grandfather clause or something. One thing is for sure, Les deadpanned, there are gonna be a lot of ****ed off people. He looked at her. And they are all armed.”

Fifteen miles away, sitting in his apartment located in his uncle’s basement, Randall ate his Captain Crunch as he watched the talking heads on the news debate and debate over the newest Executive order. He would go this Sunday. Two days. Even if they were there or not. For their sake, he hoped they were gone. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. He could sell all the ammo dude had, make a fortune. Bitchey-Poo and their brat would be a memory. He would be gone. Maybe he would go somewhere in the south.
Randall briefly thought again about enlisting some help, but decided again to stick with his plan. Wait out of sight at the end of their road and when they left, he would go in. He had all his tools already packed in a duffle. He had no idea what he was facing, so that was why he packed pretty much everything he could think of. Drive right up to the front porch and slide everything he could get into the truck bed. He had a personal time limit of ten minutes to be out. Randall knew he might be a little overconfident in what was in the house. It had just started by snatching the ammo he had spotted in the back of the car, but he had feeling that when he got the ammo and whatever else may be in there, guns, jewelry, whatever, he would be able to start new somewhere else. Disappear. He got ready for work.




IV



July 22,2020 5:17 PM
Route 17 & 25. Spring Hope, Ohio


Randall slunk low in the truck’s seat, even though it would have been impossible for them to see him. He had pulled the truck into the tree line across from their road, in at least ten feet deep, with additional security of branches and other foliage covering the front of his truck.

Carmen’s Civic slowed and turned right onto Route 25 accelerating quickly. Randall waited until they were completely out of sight and slowly eased the truck out from its hiding place. Seeing no traffic in either direction, he accelerated quickly and was soon blowing down Route 17 headed towards Les and Carmen’s new home.

Carmen headed to dinner alone. Les convinced her to go and meet up with their friends anyway. He did look under the weather. She thought. She would call and check on him later. Carmen turned up the radio. Her phone chirped. Well, it was just going to be her and Sara tonight. Mark had to work late, Sara said via text. “Girls night it is.” Carmen said happily to the empty car.

Les watched as the F150 pulled into his drive, perform a quick three-point turn and back up to his front porch. Les had no idea it would happen this fast. Actually, he had an inkling something might happen today. He took a shot. Who knew it would pan out? He sent a quick text to Mark.

He waited.

Les installed game cameras in various places on his property. He did this without Carmen’s knowledge. Les did not want to give her any cause for concern. Les didn’t know this area and his middle name was cautious. So, he installed them the first week they had moved in. Imagine his surprise when a few days after installation, while reviewing them, just to ensure they were functional more than anything, he spotted someone crouching by his kitchen window. It shocked and angered him. The figure was outside his kitchen window the night he and Car had discussed the ammo situation.
The punk surely heard their discussion. Les began to prepare for a possible break in even then. It wasn’t until a few days later that Les realized they were now being surveilled. It was hard to tell initially if it was the same person, so Les asked for Mark’s help. Mark had connections with the state police. It only took finding Randall’s truck. Soon they had a good idea who was stalking them; a loser named Randall Morgan Wright. A twenty-nine-year-old high school dropout working at the refinery as a temp. He had a promising start in high school, almost getting a baseball scholarship but blew it due to drinking and fighting. Apparently, the boy loved to fight and was good at it from what Mark could gather. He was arrested for several burglaries and half a dozen cases of battery and several counts of domestic violence. Evidently, he liked to slap women around. From what they gathered he was a singularly unpleasant person.
Les spotted him the night of their housewarming party. On a fluke. His first impulse was to confront him but he wanted to know more. No that wasn’t it, Les wanted to catch him. In the act. Les had been dealing with burglaries and theft for the last twelve years and was fed up. It wasn’t necessarily the items taken, they were just ‘stuff’, and could be replaced most likely. No, it was the demeanor and the attitude of the thief’s.
Leslie, a friend of Carmen’s sister, was kind enough to take her top off and run around (after 3 shots of tequila - not her first time, by the way) This distracted ‘Ol Randy long enough so Les could slip away unseen and eventually follow him. Les struggled with how to handle this situation, but there was only one way to handle it. So, Les began to lay the trap. And this idiot was walking right into it.

Randall pulled the mask down over his face and slid out of the cab. He left the truck running, then decided against it. He reached back in and turned the key off. After listening for a few seconds and not hearing any vehicles, he jumped into action. He knocked on the door and listened. Nothing. Out came his masterkey- a modified crow bar. Pushing it hard into the door slot he gave a practiced flick of his wrist which was usually very effective at loosening the deadbolt enough to-
“Hi. My name is Les. Your name is now- ‘Holy Crap! I am in deep poopy-kaka’.” And Les racked his 870.
Randall dropped the master key and stepped backwards away from Les eyes fixed on the shotgun’s barrel. Randall’s hand quickly moved towards his belt where his uncles Browning Hi Power rested in a cheapo holster. As his hand closed around the butt, his next step was in air. He fell of the porch and hit the ground hard enough to knock the air out of himself. The Browning went flying.
Randall looked up at Les, trying to catch his breath. Les strode towards him slowly and kneeling, picked up the Browning.
“What were you gonna do with this I wonder?” Les asked.
Randall started to get up. Les kicked him in the face. The world went black.






V

July 23,2020 6:44 PM
5150 Route 17 Spring Hope, Ohio

“That is great………Yeah, Thanks man. I owe you big time Mark………...No, it’s all good………………. Tell Car I am fine. I just needed some sleep is all. Plus, there is some things I’ve been wanting to do around the house anyway, if I feel up to it I mean. Nope, she doesn’t need to come home. Tell her to have a good time and not worry…... K. Bye.”

Les hung up the phone and looked at Randall, who had regained consciousness only a few minutes before. He was securely zip tied.
Les began talking slowly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I get so freakin’ tired……*slurp*…… of jack wagons like you.” Les said between sips.
Randall eyes were ablaze with rage.
“You know, I considered turning you in. Calling the cops, let them take you away, where you would prolly post bail and get a slap on the wrist. I have dealt with punks like you my entire life. Your kind always manages to get away with everything. The slackest worker at your job, the deadbeat dad, thief, not contributing anything to society. You are a drain. A narcissistic blight on America. But what to do now I wonder.”
Randall’s eyes continued to smolder with anger.



August 10th ,2020 8:27 PM
5150 Route 17 Spring Hope, Ohio

Carmen Hartman opened the door and walked out on the porch where Les was tending the grill. “Here ya go babe.” She said holding the plate by Les.
Les carefully scooped the steaks off the grill and placed them gingerly on the plate.
“Hey, leave mine on a while longer willya?” I want mine charred on the outside.” Mark said quickly, spun and tossed a three pointer on the corn-hole board.
“Freak.” Les said grinning and lay the porterhouse back on the grill.
“Les, this sure is a nice place you have here.” Jeff said. Jeff and Les went way back.
“Thanks Jeff. We are crazy happy here.”
Jeff’s wife Mandy spoke up. “Aren’t you scared out here far away from all the police? I mean, how long would it take for a cop to get here if you needed one”? She asked taking a sip of Bud Light.
“Not quick enough,” Les replied softly, “I mean, we have good neighbors and a decent security system.”
Carmen spoke up. “Ya know we’ve been here for three months and haven’t even had as much as a car turn around in our driveway.”
“That’s right.” Les said. Taking a sip of Shiner Bock and looking at his freshly planted Weeping Willow tree.

END
 
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