Authors: Bob Ferguson
The peak of my cap is right down over my eyes, and I only look up once in a while to see where I am going. The main street is full of cars. I slow down as I approach it and for the first time in a while, check behind me.
“Holy shit! They’re almost right beside me!”
I had been so sure they wouldn’t follow me into town. Instinctively, I gun my machine. The skis leave the ground, and I almost run into the pile of snow dividing the street. Swerving to the right, fighting for control, and then wide open, I continue down the street, passing cars and people as if they are a blur. I hit the first intersection full blast, no cars crossing, just lucky, I think. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see them. They’re in the intersection too, about forty feet behind me but on the wrong side of the street.
The intersection flashes by, and I can’t see them anymore. They’re on the other side of the divider, hidden by the snow, but I know they are there. The next intersection is coming up faster than I can think. There are people! A car pulls in front of me. No place to go but into the divider. The machine goes up and over. I’m flying in the air. I go right over the other guys, and their machine disappears on the other side of me. I land very hard, spinning, with no control. A building is coming at me. I hit the corner of it and then spin off, taking a stop sign with me. I slide backward across the side street into a snow bank, surrounding a used car lot. The machine upsets; I bounce in the snow and then slide on the hard packed snow, coming to rest against one of the car’s tires, sending the hub cap flying.
I hurt; God, do I hurt.
“Have I lost an arm or a leg? Did I break anything?”
I’m scared and probably in shock. My coat and coveralls are literally torn to pieces. There’s blood on my hands, I can feel it running down my face. The two men chasing me start running back toward me. My rifle, it’s gone! Torn right off my shoulder. I can’t see it anywhere. A police car slides into the intersection, its lights flashing. I don’t think the cop even sees me. He looks very surprised to see two men with guns running toward him on the street. He opens the door of his car and pulls out his revolver. The glass in the car door window in front of him explodes. I see his face turn red with blood from the glass shards blinding him.
Three men come out of the car dealership pointing at me, and then they dive back inside as the windows around them shatter. The two men continue up the street toward me. Another cop car pulls up behind the first one. The cop opens his car door with his gun drawn. I can see he’s on the radio. When he sees the men running toward him, he steps out and fires his revolver at them. The men slip and slide to a stop then turn around and run back toward their machine. I lay there as if watching a movie, my own problem forgotten as I watch fascinated. The second cop is too busy looking after his fallen comrade to even see me.
“Get the hell out of here,” my mind tells me.
My machine is sitting only a few feet away. It had landed on its feet, still running.
I feel a great sadness come over me as I look at it. The seat is almost completely torn off, the handbars are bent. I remember how the cowling had shone in the sun, now it is smashed to bits. My mind is numb, and I just want to leave.
“Got to go see July,” I think as I climb onto the machine and drive away as if nothing had happened.
The cold air again brings back some sensibility. “Better get up to Bill and Hania’s,” I think, “they can help me. Got to warn them.”
I know the town well, so it’s no problem for me to follow the back streets out of town and then skirt around the edge until I reach Bill and Hania’s place. They have a beautiful big house overlooking a hill. Bill is a contractor by trade; his yard is full of equipment. I park the snowmobile among them. I see Bill’s pickup and snowmobile trailer parked behind the shop. Good, my spirits lift. That usually means he’s home.
I don’t feel good; I hurt all over, and it’s all I can do to climb the stairs and knock on the door. Maybe they don’t hear me. I look for the door buzzer and push it. No one comes to the door. I try the doorknob; it turns and the door opens.
“Hello!” My voice sounds strange. “Hello,” I try to holler as I enter the house. There’s only silence.
I brace myself for what I might find and begin to search the house. I find nothing. I am sure that I will find them dead, but nothing even seems out of place except for the unlocked door and Bill’s pickup outside.
I pick up the phone; it’s working, and I get a dial tone. The first number I call is Dale and Pearl’s. There’s no answer. The two couples spend a lot of time together; I was hoping Bill and Hania would be there. I phone Hania’s sister in town and ask her if she knew where they were. She tells me they were planning to go to the city; maybe they went early. I thank her and hang up. Next, I phone Dale’s dad. He lives close to Dale on the farm.
“No,” he says. “I haven’t seen either of them for a couple of days,” he replies. “Usually they’re over if they are home, but you know how they are, probably just got up and went to the States for a couple of weeks.” Obviously he didn’t know about the government taking our passports. He did sound a little worried though, so I agreed with him and hung up.
Darkness is closing in now; I go to the cupboard where Bill keeps his booze. I find a half-full bottle of rum and take a drink straight. It burns all the way down, not sitting well on my stomach. Suddenly, a light flashes in the window. It’s a bluish light. The cops, they must know I’m here. I really don’t care anymore. I ease myself over to the window and look out. The irony of it all, they’ve just set up a roadblock right where the gate leads on to the highway. I do feel safer with a security guard at the gate. I’m pretty sure no one’s going to come looking for me now.
Bill and Hania have a Jacuzzi in their bathroom. I go in and begin running water in the tub. I laugh to myself. I haven’t even taken off my coat yet, and I’m taking a bath. It takes me a long time to get my clothes off; my wrists and fingers are swollen and painfully sore. Slowly, I begin to realize how badly I really am hurt. My whole body is black and blue.
I turn on the Jacuzzi pump and slide painfully into the water. My eyes are almost stuck closed from the blood that has dried on them. I feel a gash in my forehead as I try and wash the blood away. I find more and more cuts here and there, but mostly my body is just terribly bruised. Slowly the water begins to soothe my muscles, and I lay back in the tub, sipping on the bottle of rum. My mind drifts back to that first day I had phoned Tom Newman. That was really the start of it all.
1988
I
T HAD BEEN
a long time since Bob had applied for a job, much more traumatic than July had realized. But once he had made the initial contact with Tom Newman, he settled down, seemingly becoming more interested in this new project every day. He and July talked about other things as well. Moving their family away from friends to an island with none of the facilities they were used to existed. Schools were primitive, roads were poor, TV was poor, and the people were generally poor. Maybe that’s good; they had both laughed. Their son Rikker’s hockey would disappear. Bob loved his hockey, coaching one of the local boys’ teams on which his son played. They had told the kids immediately what their plans were.
Their daughter Mindy rebelled instantly making them wonder if they should have been so open. Mindy was a pretty girl and was coming into the age of boys. She and Bob had not gotten along at all. Mindy’s marks at school were not good. She resented the fact that they were poor, saying that some of her friends at school laughed at them for being stupid. She generally made their lives hell.
All of this broke Bob’s heart, blaming himself for making her feel this way, but July was much more perceptive, gently trying to persuade him that she would have to cope with life like everyone else.
July had said, “If she wants to stay, she can. She can stay with her grandmother; by the time we’re gone, she will not have much time for us anyway. It’s up to her. We have our own lives to lead.”
More and more, they began to realize how big a move they were contemplating. It would be a big upheaval for them and their family. Still, they were looking forward to their interview with Tom. They had moved before and were ready to meet a new challenge. The harvest was over before they could meet with Tom. Bob had sent him a résumé as had July, indicating she would like to work on this project, too. Tom asked to meet with them in a city about two hundred miles from where they lived.
Tom was passing through, and this was the closest major airport. He was a small man with reddish hair, a very likable person as Bob and July found out that morning in the airport restaurant. He told them he had about twenty families hired up to go, the only position he had left to fill would be in the actual processing and selling of their products. He explained this would be making sure the produce was delivered to clients in Nassau and Miami, or wherever they might be, on time and in good condition. They already knew from talking to Bill and Hania Shonavon and Dale and Pearl Drinkwater that this project was a large farm to be located on Andros Island.
The location was on a remote part of the island that had been farmed long ago by an American company.
“The land has since grown over so it must be broken and reclaimed,” Tom told them.
Bob would work on the farm, helping set it up if he accepted this job. It would mean the families being away from each other until the crews had the residences ready for the wives and children.
Tom then turned to July. “You said you would like to work on this project, and we have something definite in mind. On seeing you, I would say we definitely will be offering you a position, even if Bob rejects his,” Tom smiled. When July questioned him further, Tom would only say it was in the public relations field.
Bob asked him what kind of budget the project required. Tom responded by handing him a prospectus. “We’re looking at approximately four million, most of which is in position.” When asked how the money was being raised, Tom became even vaguer.
“It’s mostly offshore money,” he claimed. “That’s all I can tell you, except that there is no government money involved. I don’t want them sticking their nose in our business.”
Then of course, he went on, “there’s up-front money that investors have put in to get this thing going. That’s where people like July’s father come in. If this project is successful, they will be rewarded handsomely. Well, I have to catch my plane,” Tom informed them.
“Sorry I don’t have much time to spend with you, but I’ve read your résumés, and I’m confident you can handle the job,” he said, shaking Bob’s hand.
He turned to July. “ I’m positive you’ll be hearing from us shortly.” And then he was gone.
Bob and July went through the prospectus that evening. They decided it was very ambitious and raised certain doubts about its viability. The project consisted of housing for the management people, housing for the locals who would be supplying the labor, farm buildings, and administration buildings. Cattle and dairy operation were to be set up as well as a hog barn; five thousand acres were to be cleared or logged off and put into vegetables, hay, and grain production. The farm was projected to be in limited production in six months’ time. By this time, the cattle were to be in place with the dairy and hog operations close behind. This was a very remote area; Bob and July wondered about the scheduling. Actually they realized they worried about a lot of things.
“It’s natural to worry about things that are new and different,” July summarized. “There are a lot of positive things in this project. I think it has potential.”
Actually Bob thought so too, but he felt he should remain reserved, giving July the opportunity to reject the whole idea if she so wished. They were extremely impressed with the people Tom had recruited. With his prospectus, he had supplied a résumé of all the people he had signed on. They were very qualified, each in their own field. Bob and July decided they weren’t entirely sure what they were getting into, but they wanted in. Bob faxed his application form the next day.
A week later, Tom phoned saying Bob’s application had been accepted.
“Welcome aboard,” Tom said, and then he laid out what was expected. “Most of our work now will be to source out equipment needed for the project. This can be done on the phone for now. As our money is not yet in place, there will be no wages until it is in place. At that time, you will be reimbursed for your time and expenses. In March, I am organizing a trip for the people I want on the project,” Tom went on.
“You and July will be asked to go. At this time we will get a hands-on view of the area and what has to be done.”
Then Tom asked to speak to July. “How are you?” she heard his amicable voice say as she came on the phone.
“Just fine and excited!” she added.
“Well, good, July, because what I have to say to you I hope you will find exciting. We are auditioning for a person to represent our company both as a logo on our product and as a roving ambassador. We would be honored if you would accept our invitation to attend,” Tom said.
July did find this exciting but tried not to show it. She asked where the audition was. Tom replied they were doing a shoot in Nassau next month. The applicants would be required to do a photo session as well as an oral presentation. If she was accepted, she would begin work immediately. This was all happening way too fast for July. Inwardly, she was filled with excitement; outwardly, she was filled with dread.
“Think about it,” Tom said. “I have to know by Friday next week.” With that, he signed off.
July immediately told Bob what Tom had asked of her, and to her surprise, he was supportive.
“Look,” he said, “this is the chance of a lifetime. If you get the job, great. If you don’t, it will be fun. You need some fun, July. I’ve kept you cooped up on this farm for far too long. Go have some fun. Besides, it looks like I’ll be here for a while. I can look after the kids while you’re gone.” July was surprised and pleased, yet deep down she knew this man; it was what she loved about him.
“You’re trying to get rid of me,” she teased. Only few women could say it the way she did. Bob felt himself getting hard.
“I don’t know why you hang around with me anyway,” he said. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.
“Because you’ve got a big dick,” she told him.
“Yes,” he said, “but will you still respect me in the morning?”
“Listen, baby,” her voice dripping with sex, “with a weapon like that, I’ll respect you tonight and hopefully again in the morning.”
They never made it to the bed; they had sex right there in the chair. It was like the rest of their life, unpredictable. She tried to control her emotions; “I’ll wake the kids,” she thought, and then she lost it, not knowing what they heard.