A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

oblivious. “Where the hell is he?” He banged on the door. “Heath. You in there? It’s Zeke.” He groaned. “Man, I can’t see shit through this glass. Maybe…” He turned and that was when he caught sight of the snarling beasts.

“Oh. Shit. Well… hey pups…”

The dogs lifted their gums to reveal razor-sharp teeth, then growled.

Colby had never seen Zeke move as fast as he did. He spun around and bolted for the fence, not looking back for even a second. “Come on. Come on!” Dylan bellowed. He could have beaten an Olympic runner. His boots pounded the ground fast as the dogs took off after him. In a flash he was up the fence and over the other side just as the dogs barreled into the fence, barking furiously.

He landed hard, scrambling back from the fence to the laughter of Dylan.

“See. I told you.” He laughed hard.

Right then the door to the shop swung open, releasing a plume of smoke. A figure emerged, waving a hand in front of his face. Colby squinted. The years had been unkind to Heath. At roughly five foot five, he was wearing a long striped bathrobe. Below that, a pair of white Y-front underpants and workman boots with the laces undone. He wore a thick pair of steampunk goggles and a scarf wrapped around his neck. In one hand was a Magnum 45, and in the other a sawed-off shotgun. Wedged into the corner of his mouth was a mammoth joint. “What the hell is going on out here!?”

He fired a round into the air and his two dogs scattered.

“Heath. It’s Zeke.”

“Zeke? I don’t know any Zeke.”

“Your cousin.”

“Cousin?”

Zeke looked at Colby and he shook his head. The guy was as high as a kite and no doubt he had some other mind-altering substance mixed in with the weed. Why his mother had chosen to leave the rifles with him was a mystery.

“You better get off my property now.”

“It’s Dylan.”

“Dylan?”

“Yeah, remember last month, I dropped by and picked up the vacuum oven.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Dylan shook his head and brought a hand to his face in dismay. Whatever he was smoking, it was strong. Colby approached the fence and gripped the chain link. “Hey, Heath. Colby here. You remember me?”

“Colby?”

“Yeah.”

“Well shit. Why didn’t you say so?”

Colby looked at his brothers and chuckled.

“Oh right, so you’ve been gone ten years and he remembers you but I was only here last month and he can’t recall.”

Colby laughed.

Heath made his way over and unlocked the gate. “Man, great to see you again. You look every bit like the way you did last month.”

“Last month?”

“Yeah, you came by to pick up a vacuum oven, right?”

Colby laughed again as Dylan shook his head and followed him in.

“His marbles are all over the place today,” Zeke said. His dogs caught sight of Kane and began showing signs of aggression as if they were about to attack when Heath let out a whistle. “Tulip. Rose. Get back to your kennel.”

And like that the dogs turned and disappeared around the corner of the building. Colby had leashed Kane, just in case. He kept a firm grip as Heath led them inside the smoke-filled shop. Almost immediately they began coughing hard.

“Oh, give me a second,” he said, disappearing into the fog.

A moment later a generator began churning, then a high-pitched whirring sound was followed by what sounded like a vacuum. In less than a minute the room cleared, and they were able to breathe.

Heath appeared. “There we go. Now, what can I do for you fellas, and… Skye?” He got this puzzled look. “Man, I must be losing my mind.” He took out the joint and tossed it. “This shit is strong. I swear they had a funeral for you.”

“This isn’t Skye. It’s a friend of mine. Alicia Scott.”

“Oh. What a dead ringer. Gorgeous just like Skye.” He stepped forward and took her hand and kissed the back of it before taking a few steps back. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Alicia smirked.

“Martha said you have the rifles here. That right?” Colby asked.

“Rifles. Gold. Equipment. You name it. I’ve got it. What’s your poison?”

“The rifles and gold. We’re meant to take them out of here. Where are they?”

“Follow me.” Heath led them through a grimy workshop. It was a maze. Products everywhere. The place smelled of grease like a garage. There were wood chips over the ground to soak up oil. Layers of steel were on racks, ready to be chopped, bent, and used to create new machines. Shelves were jam-packed with weathered brown boxes full of mechanical parts.

“Have you seen much trouble in Redway, Heath?” Colby asked.

“Oh, it’s ripe with assholes. Had a couple of fellas a week ago try to break in. I dealt with them.”

“Where are they now?”

“Buried in a shallow grave out back.” He said it so matter-of-factly as if life was nothing more than something to be extinguished. Colby had forgotten what it was like being around family. Good morals were the punch line to a joke.

Heath brought them to a huge safe at the far back of the room. It could have easily been used in a bank. “You make this?” Alicia asked.

“Sure did. Ain’t much I don’t, darlin’.”

Heath punched in a few codes then turned the lever to unlock the door. He had to use both hands to pull it wide. Sure enough, inside were racks of rifles extending far back like the clothes inside a walk-in closet. They lined the walls, one after the other. AR-15s, M4s, bolt-actions, AK-47s, and M16s. And there at the center of it all, on the ground, stacked up on a wooden pallet was a mountain of gold bars. He knew cannabis was profitable, especially in the black market, but that was a lot. “Holy shit,” Colby said, walking in and picking up one of the heavy bars. “This was Alby’s?”

“Your mother’s. Alby kept it for her. I’d offered to hold it in here originally but telling her