“How you doing?” Reilly asked.
“You know how fast you were going?” The officer’s face barely moved as he spoke.
Reilly shrugged. “Maybe a hundred?”
“Try one-thirty. Can I see that I.D., aye?”
“Yes, of course,” Reilly handed the man his identification card. He glanced at the name to refresh his memory.
“Headed home are you, Mr. Vaster?”
“Yeah, just finishing up some work. Guess I got a little eager to see the family.”
“You do a lot of reckless driving for your company?”
Reilly coughed, not answering the policeman.
“Wait here,” the officer went back to his cruiser. Reilly tossed his hands in his pockets. He started whistling. Everything was covered. His identity was as tight as a drum.
As he stood waiting a goat knocked against the truck.
“You guys act up and I’ll be eating you deep fried on Thanksgiving.”
“Mahh.”
“I’m serious, knock it off,” Reilly casually tapped on the truck, the officer wasn’t watching.
The knocking continued. Reilly slammed his hands against the truck keeping a close eye on the officer. The goats ceased their misconduct.
Reilly sucked in his chest as the officer returned.
“This here is your traffic citation. You pay this, at the address on the bottom. Slow down in the-”
Knock.
“-future. What was that?”
“What?”
Knock. Knock.
“Oh, just some um, mechanical equipment that we’re moving.”
“It knocks on the walls?”
“Some prototype stuff, top secret.”
“And it knocks on walls?”
Knock.
“Well, it’s unstable and doesn’t take interference well.”
“Uh-huh, look, if don’t slow down, you’re going to lose your license.”
“Thanks officer, I’ll do that.”
Bang!
“I’m going to insist I take a look.”
Reilly offered the man his license again.
“No, I’ve seen that. I need to see what’s in the truck.”
Reilly looked down at the man’s shield. “Officer Brighton? I’m actually in kind of a hurry. It’s important to me that I get this cargo hauled, my people are on a deadline.”
“Is there a problem showing me the mechanical equipment?”
“Mahh.”
“Uh, well you see, uh.”
“Mahh.”
“Sounds like livestock to me. This truck is not equipped to carry livestock. What the hell are you trying to pull?”
“Me, nothing sir, nothing. Look I’ve got the paperwork in the cab. I’ll get it for you.”
“Quickly.”
Reilly dashed to the cab as the policeman scanned the exterior of the vehicle. Reilly returned hurriedly with a thick stack of papers. Each document stamped with an official seal and authorized. He turned them over to the officer.
The policeman spent his moments carefully reviewing each form. Despite his gut instinct, the man had all the forms required to transport the animals. Even authorizing the use of what appeared to be a cruel transport.
“I still don’t see any windows on this rig. It says here in plain type there is to be at least six windows no smaller than one half meter each.”
The goats had continued their racket. The officer put an eye to the truck. “I’ve got no choice pal. Until I get an animal unit out here, I’ve got to hold you.”
“You didn’t see our windows? This was kind of last minute, but we got them up top and on the far side. Here come see.”
Reilly pointed the officer around to the far side of the truck. “We take good care of these things.”
“I hope so,” Officer Brighton turned the corner of the truck and immediately saw there were no windows as promised. What he did see was a short man standing next to the truck smoking a cigarette.
“No windows. Are you playing games with me?”
Officer Brighton immediately turned to face Reilly. He was met with the dark barrel of Reilly’s pistol.
“Look, Officer. No quick moves.”
“You’re making a mistake big man. You go down a long time for pulling a gun on a cop.”
“Hit the dirt, now!”
“Drop your weapon!”
Reilly could see a gleam in Officer Brighton's eye. He knew it well, the cocky youthful edge you feel when you have a gun at your side. Things weren’t going to go easy.
“One more chance, hit the dirt.”
“Drop the damn gun!”
Officer Brighton dove toward Reilly clinging to the gun in his hands. A round fired off, puncturing the truck. The goats screamed.
“Cross!”
The man by the truck had already dropped his cigarette and was looking for a way in to help suppress the cop.
“Take him down Cross.”
Three shots were fired. The officer went limp in Reilly’s arms. Reilly watched his eyes roll back. He let the body loose. Officer Brighton collapsed to the ground. Reilly turn his attention from the bloodied corpse to his associate.
“Cross, I meant to kick him, punch him, grab him. Not shoot him!”
“You said take him down! He’s down right?”
“We can’t just drive off and leave a dead cop on the side of the road. Where the hell is my phone?”
Chapter 35
“What are you thinking goat?”
“I was listening to the radio, trying not to think. I’m getting pretty tired.”
“Want to pull over and take a nap?”
“Nah, we must keep going. I know that I am already running behind,” the goat rubbed at his tired eyes with his hoof.
The road blurred before him. He couldn’t excuse himself to slow down his quest. He had to keep up, keep going.
“You shouldn’t push too hard, maybe we can get you some coffee. They have a drive thru for coffee.”
“I don’t know that I want to go through another drive thru.”
“You can’t sleep behind the wheel man, and I can’t drive. You need some caffeine, and coffee is the source.”
Sparky knew he was on the edge of a coma.
“So it will keep me awake?”
“For days man. Hey, look! Take the next exit.”
Sparky’s eyes affixed to a large billboard. It pictured a young lady with a very bright-toothed smile. In her hand was a steaming white cup.
“It’s a sign,” Frank said to the goat, licking his back. “Damned fleas.”
“World’s best coffee, ever, in the history of the world, stop and enjoy. Right now,” Sparky read from the billboard.
“Totally a sign.”
“I hate dealing with people,” Sparky admitted. “This would be so much better if we could avoid them all together.”
“You want me to do the talking?”
Maybe he was catching on. Maybe he was too tired. Maybe it was the way he realized Frank squeaked a little when he was trying to make a joke. But Sparky laughed at his statement and Frank smiled with delight.
As they pulled into the lot there was a sign for The World’s Best Coffee, Ever, In the History of the World. Underneath was a smaller tagline. It’s like legalizing crack all over again! As they approached the establishment, Sparky became hesitant.
“There isn’t a drive thru.”
“You need some coffee goat. I’ll come with you. Everyone will be looking at me. After all, I am man’s best friend.”
They parked and the two climbed out of the truck, it was nearing midday. The lot was full of other cars.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Frank ran over to the restaurant and jumped on the door. His breath fogged the window. Sparky slowly made his way over.
“I wonder if they sell those pig biscuits here.”
“You’re sti
ll hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.”
Frank hopped off the door as the goat pulled it open, he quietly skirted through the opening. Sparky followed.
He stood just inside the door staring at the tables filled with people. Most of them were casually dressed. Quite a few people looked over as he entered. The rest stayed true to their discussions or to one of the two TVs.
Frank was indifferent. He made his way to the counter and sniffed the air. The crisp Colombian smell was abundant. Sparky hurried to the counter as he pulled up his coat collar.
“Yes, sir?” the older lady at the counter had her hair pulled back tight. Her expression alert and her voice was chirpy. Sparky looked down and noticed her hands trembled as she talked.
“I guess I need a large coffee. Please.”
“We have scones!”
“No thank you, just coffee.”
Sparky tucked his head down, and turned away. The woman clicked away at her register.
“Six dollars and seventy-six cents.”
“For coffee?”
“Yeah, it’s the best coffee in the world,” she threw her arms up. “Ever!”
“Like legal crack,” Sparky quoted.
“Shh, we don’t want the crack heads to get started,” she pointed to the table closest to the counter.
Seated there was a man and a woman, both in faded overcoats. The man was blond with dark roots, his hair uncombed, and his clothes unwashed. The lady wore fishnet leggings and a thigh-length shimmering metallic dress. Her hair a mess as well. Both of them cradled giant mugs of coffee in their hands.
The man sipped generously. “Don’t listen to the hype, mate,” his lip quivered as he spoke to the goat. “It’s not true.”
“But it’s pretty close,” the girl threw in.
She didn’t look up from her steaming mug. As she sipped at her coffee again her eyes widened. She gurgled the fluid in her mouth before swallowing it down. “Ah!”
Sparky turned back to the cashier and slid her the demanded ransom for his beverage.
“Is that to go?”
“To go?” Sparky hesitated. “For the road? Yes. Yes.”
The young lady at the table behind him was sipping at her giant mug and staring at him with a gleam in her eyes.
“You look crazy!”
“Who me?” Sparky asked.
The girl nodded.
Sparky put his back to her. Frank was sitting at the far end of the counter staring up at a case full of muffins, his tongue dangling. He turned with a pouting face to the Sparky who wasn't paying attention. Frank stared deep the muffin case, and started pouting aloud.
Sparky’s eyes suddenly locked on the television. He was still impressed at how prevalent it was around people. He took a step closer to get away from the gawking woman and to better see the display. He read the headline running along the bottom of the screen. Attacked by a Mutant.
Sparky’s breathing seized.
On the scene, a reporter was holding a microphone in front of a young girl. The girl wore a bright orange shirt with a man’s smiling face. The word Larry’s was not shown, but Sparky knew who she was and where she worked. He stepped closer to hear the broadcast.
“…he said to me that he was, he was, he would, he,” Sally broke into tears. “He was going to eat me,” the dramatic tears streamed down her round cheeks, the camera zoomed in. “Then he flashed his giant teeth at me,” the girl stuttered as she spoke. It appeared they were conducting the interview outside the rental outlet. “I, I, I, I was lucky that John came in and scared him off.”
The screen flashed to John’s interview.
“Yeah, I jumped in and the monster screamed. I was like “get out man” and he was like “no way” then I kicked him square in the jewels. That got him. Hi mom!”
Sparky was shocked at their lies, but was much more concerned that they were broadcasting his visit via television. Everyone had one, and everyone watched it. It was only a matter of time before all the humans were aware of his presence.
The screen bounced back to the reporter. “First considered to be a hoax, surveillance footage provided from the Larry’s camera shows these startling images.”
Sparky watched as they ran through the security tape. His hat. His overcoat. His assault on the attendant.
The girl with the large mug looked up at him from her coffee. Her eyes narrowed. Sparky took a fearful step back, remaining focused on the colorful screen.
“This image clearly shows the creature’s profile,” the static shot was in black and white and very grainy. Sparky leaned in to see his own shadowed face. Even he wasn’t sure that the picture was him. The camera was too high and his hat was too low. He sighed with limited relief that the camera had missed his face. He looked around the room to see if anyone was staring at him now and noticed all their eyes were affixed to the screen.
“Can you believe that?” an older woman said looking over to the goat. “What kind of baloney is this? Mutants! Ha!”
“Yeah.”
“We estimate it to be about six feet tall; the creature may be wearing a hat and gray overcoat. It’s possible it is trying to pass as a person. If you see the creature, please call your local animal control or police agency immediately.”
“Sir?”
Sparky could feel a cold glare in his backside. His hooves began to shake; he quickly buried them in his coat. He looked down over his gray stained coat and checked his hat carefully.
Run.
“Sir? We don’t allow animals in here!”
They knew. The humans at any moment would unite, drag him out, and beat him. They would burn him with the coffee and assault him with the chairs. He would be carted away for study, or taken to a local zoo. The rest of the herd forgotten, lost forever.
“Please don’t, I need my family!”
Sparky's plea grabbed everyone’s attention.
“That’s fine sir, but your dog needs to wait outside, family or not.”
Sparky took a deep breath. Everyone was still watching him.
“Oh. Of course. My dog!” He walked over and patted Frank on the head. “My dog! I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Next time just leave him outside.”
She handed over a large plastic mug. Sparky grabbed it from her quickly, and kept his head low. Behind him the television was still broadcasting the news. “This image shows the creature’s odd appendage, the monster doesn’t have hands but more of a claw.”
Sparky hustled to the door, Frank in tow.
“That guy’s a freakin’ goat!” the crack head male said to the cashier.
“What?” she asked,
“Wild, I mean,” he sipped again at his coffee. He turned to his girl and laughed. Coffee shot through his teeth onto the table. “Goat!”
“Goat!” the girl echoed. She broke into a laughing fit. The air rushed out her nose uncontrollably. She held a hand to her face. “Goat!”
Sparky didn’t slow down as he exited the establishment, the cries of 'goat' echoed in his ears. He dashed to the truck and climbed in, rushing Frank along. They peeled out of the lot. It wasn’t until they were back on the freeway, that he took a full breath again.
Frank didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned. He was busy gnawing at his hindquarters.
Chapter 36
“We could have been caught back there, I thought those people were going to get me,” Sparky was chewing on his upper lip, the skin grated along his flat teeth.
“Nah,” Frank didn’t take his attention from his rump chewing.
“How can you be sure?”
Frank looked over, his soft brown eyes intently serious. “You know how every food has a smell?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sparky's nostrils picked up the slightest hint of wildflowers from the farm.
“Well, so do emotions. I can smell what people are feeling.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, you’re feeling scared. Fear is the easiest thing to smell; it smells like urine.”
Sparky was still unnerved, but that was an easy guess. The goat hesitated before speaking. “Are you sure you’re not just smelling the coat?”
“No, definitely fear,” Frank turned away from his flea chewing. “You know what the people in the restaurant were feeling?”
“What?”
“Well the lady behind the counter was feeling very unhappy. It smelled like money troubles.”
“You can smell if someone is having money troubles?” Sparky prepared for Frank to announce that he was only joking.
“Of course, most worries smell alike, but when it’s about money it has a different smell to it.”
“What smell?”
“Worries smell like rotten shoes, money worries smell like rotten shoes covered in raspberry jam.”
“That’s very specific." Sparky nodded. "I take it you have spent a lot of time sniffing shoes?”
“More than you know,” Frank assured. “I’ve spent about ninety-percent of my life with my nose to the ground, and that’s a lot of shoes.”
The goat nodded in compliance.
“What about raspberry jam?”
“Used to get it with my pancakes-” Frank cut himself off. “It’s a long story.”
Sparky adjusted himself in the seat seeing a large tractor trailer pull up alongside them. He turned his head toward his passenger hoping not to be seen. He eased off the accelerator to allow the truck to pass.
“That crack lady, she was attracted to you.”
“What?” Sparky's attention was on the truck. The driver seemed to be matching his pace.
“Unmistakable.”
“What’s that smell like?” Sparky tilted his hat lower.
“Roasted Duck, sometimes it can smell like rack of lamb, depends on how strong the attraction is. But if it’s real strong, like it was with her, it smells like pu-”
“Hang on, I think this person is eyeing me funny.”
“Let me see.”
Frank dove in Sparky’s lap. Slapping his wet nose to the window. The truck driver waived to him. She had a very large grin on her face.
“Watch out,” Sparky knocked the dog off his lap. “Any idea what she’s thinking?”