Goldilocks Forever

Chapter 6

Walton, New York
February 2043

Instinctively, Beau's hand wound around the grip of his gun. He pulled it from his shoulder harness and followed Toby out the door. As his eyes adjusted to the twilight of the forest, the only thing he could make out clearly was more gunfire, only about twenty feet away and off to his right.

Footsteps crunched in the snow. His pupils let in sufficient light for him to make out three shadowy figures running through the trees and across the small clearing beyond the front porch. No one seemed to notice Beau standing there.

He recognized the shots from Toby's weapon. The two other shooters carried less firepower with their smaller, easily-concealable handguns. Still keeping his back to the exterior wall of the cabin, he turned his head toward the sound of Toby's shots and saw him duck behind a pile of snow heaped by the plow that had cleared the driveway.

From the other side of the yard, the two shooters returned fire. Already, their shots were coming hesitantly. One or both of them might have been hit. They took cover behind trees. Beau took a shooting stance and waited for the figures to reveal themselves.

Toby came out from behind the snow heap. He pointed his gun toward the sky as he walked toward the trees and into the line of fire. "You don't know who you're fucking with!" he shouted. He lowered the gun and pelted the forest with a stream of bullets.

The figures bent lower to the ground and ran in a hunched position toward the driveway. Two headlights lit the forest and silhouetted Toby's figure. He stood with his gun at his side and yelled, "Cowards!"

The car—with a squeal of its tires—jerked forward and sped directly toward Toby. Instead of shooting at his assailants, he jumped to the side of the driveway and ran alongside the car as it sped up.

Beau drew his weapon as he hobbled down the porch, sliding on packed snow over the steps. He faltered and gripped the railing to regain his balance. His legs flew up in front of him as he slipped on another patch of hard snow and hit the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Toby stood over him. "You okay?" He offered the hand not holding the gun. Beau turned his head and saw his own gun lying off to the right, its blackness stark in the white snow.

The forest was silent again. No more shots, no more car sounds, no crunchy footsteps. He blinked as a wave of pain tentacled up the side of his skull. "What happened?" He took Toby's hand and groaned as he got to his feet. The pain intensified and his legs quaked.

"You okay?" Toby's eyes widened with concern. Clouds of heavy breath billowed from his mouth.

Beau nodded, wincing. "What happened?"

Toby huffed. "We sound like a couple of broken records. C'mon. You seem okay. Did you get hit?" He started up the stairs, but turned and looked back at Beau. "I thought I told you to stay inside."

"I heard the shots."

He ignored Beau and scanned the forest. "Oh, shit." He pointed to Beau's rented car. A deep crease bent the rear bumper into two distinct halves. "I hope you bought the extra insurance!" He chuckled as he opened the door to the cabin.

"How the hell did that happen?"

"Sit your ass down over there, kid." Toby gestured to the sofa in the living room. Beau went and sat down. He put his gun back in its holster and slouched into the seat. Time and the weight of many bodies compressed the stuffing of the cushions into flat squares that sank as he fell into them. The word "kid" echoed in his brain. Beau watched Toby in the kitchen through narrowed eyes.

He stood at the sink, filling a large kettle with hot water. He set it on the stovetop and turned a dial underneath the burner. Gas hissed with the clicking of the pilot light. Little sparks crackled under the pot and then burst into blue flames. So primitive.

Toby came into the living room and sat at the edge of the coffee table. He faced the kitchen, his eyes on the pot. His words were strained. "You shouldn't have left the cabin. You could have been shot."

"I'm a cop," Beau reminded him. "I'm trained to—"

"Ha!" Toby nodded. "That's right."

"I wasn't shot." Beau closed his eyes and let his head fall against the back of the couch. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. "Tell me what just happened."

"Those guys are just upset because I have something they want."

"Who are they? What do they want?"

"I don't know. They got away before we could be properly introduced. I can make a very educated guess, though." He brightened somewhat. "You'll be happy to know I did more damage to their car than they did to yours."

"I don't care about the damn car! I want an explanation. Nothing you've said makes any sense." Beau squeezed his eyes tighter shut and pressed his forefingers into his temples. Not only did Toby not make sense, but he'd also acted like a reckless lunatic with that gun.

"Sure it does." Toby went into the kitchen, banged cupboards, and dumped water into a pan. When Beau opened his eyes, Toby was in a chair across from him, his red feet in the pan of steaming water.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned. "That's the stuff." He grimaced and took a few deep breaths.

"What did they want?"

"Access to a certain network. They're not hackers, so they have to resort to intimidation. They work for a real thug. I've been on his shit list for a while." He shook his head. "Fucking amateurs."

Beau studied his face for any indication of honesty or sincerity. A blooming stain on the side of Toby's t-shirt distracted him. Blood darkened the fabric from blue to black.

"You've been shot!"

Toby leapt up, his feet still in the pan of water, and looked down at himself. "Fuck." He lifted the side of his shirt and nudged his fingers against the wound.

Beau moved closer and peered at it. It wasn't the worst he'd seen. "You need a doctor. The bullet's still inside you."

"No, no, no." His fingers still pressed against the wound, Toby backed away from Beau. He put his other hand up to block him from coming any closer. "No doctors." He went to the kitchen sink and wet a washcloth under the tap, then removed his shirt and poked his finger through the hole made by the bullet. "Damn." Blood smeared his side and dripped onto his jeans.

"Didn't you feel that?"

Toby sucked in his breath as he examined the wound. "I felt a sting, yeah, but you know how it is when your adrenaline gets pumping..."

He did know how it was. Beau stepped closer. The wound really didn't look that bad after Toby wiped away all the blood. It was probably from a ricocheted bullet fragment.

"Back off, kid. Go mind your own war wounds. Here." Toby opened the freezer and chucked him a bag of frozen peas. "You're going to have a knot on the back of your head the size of a golf ball."

Beau caught the bag. The type printed in black was faded and unfamiliar. He didn't recognize the brand. Enjoy by Jan 2011. "These peas are over thirty years old." He held them to the back of his head.

"I'm not surprised." Toby said, his voice distant as he needled the tip of a small knife into the wound. "I've never been a fan of peas." With a tweezers, he pried the bullet lose. "There. It's out." Toby whooshed out his breath and held the fragment between the prongs of the tweezers before dropping all the impromptu bullet-extracting utensils into the sink.

Beau stared at the spot on Toby's side. Now that the bullet was removed, the wound looked more like a big zit, or an infected hair follicle, than a gunshot wound. As Toby dabbed at it with the washcloth, its redness faded to pink and the swelling receded until all that was left of it was a pink circle, the beginning of a faint scar. The skin was whole where it was once bloody and cratered.

"I'm guessing you would like an explanation right about now."