HD novella

[goinbroke2]

GB started towards the treeline, Corene seemed hesitant and Sarah likewise moved a bit away. Whatever, thought GB, they can't be nervous, they both been to this dance before, sides, we outnumber the ones in the cabin. GB seen a rock with a small bush growing in front of it, looks good. He sidled up behind the rock in the prone position and squeezed the legs of the bipod to release them. Hmm, good clear arc's of fire, suns to the rear left as it rises so no reflections, wind has died off to about 5mph or less. Well, we're set. He then looked over at Corene who was watching him with narrowed eyes. What the heck he thought? He swivled his head around and took a peek at Sarah who had stopped to his right rear...maybe a bit close. She didn't look any happier. GB started to take stock of his position, the one he thought he was coming to help doesn't even recognize him anymore or if she did, isn't too friendly about it..did we part on bad terms? The rest, he chalked up to bein' a little ornery, but that's fine. Maybe you really can't go home he thought. It certainly appeared as though Corene didn't need GB as she had lots of help anyway.
GB peered down the scope as the door creaked open......

[ga flatwoods]

I will post the next chapter. Lost it after lot of typing tonight at end of section!

[Bigbob]

Don't you hate that!

[Truckinbutch]

Damn ! I'm guilty of that , too . Was in the process of writing a big paragraph after having a shot of Muckalee Creek Water and sipping on several fingers of fresh run UJ as I typed . Kinda drifted off to sleep before I hit the submit button . Worked out well . Enough other folks posted to help me refine what I would have posted into a smoother transition in the story line the next day .
GB,
We ain't firing on you , yet . You are the one that came in loaded up like a dime store cowboy with all the hardware and the tricked out truck . We just got to go cautious because whe don't have the full measure of your worth , yet . The gals are treating you with the same caution .
Me and Brock , and he is real , first went to war in 1959 fightin over nickles and dimes thrown by coal miners waiting to go on shift down at the local company store . We've had each other's backs since then . Flatwoods didn't serve with us , but I figure he has been to his wars as well .
I was all charged up to write another paragraph in the Novella but another sip of UJ has dissuaded me from doing that tonight .
Good night , all .

[goinbroke2]

GB got a letter callin for help, since it's so far he loaded up everything he might possibly need. He wasn't driving for a couple a days with a six shooter strapped to his leg and a few spare rounds in a pocket. He came in, eyebrows up ready to help. He's startin to get a bit leery of the folks he thought he was comin to help, they wasn't the ones who asked for the help anyhow it turns out. He's got a few scars hisself from wearin stripes on his arm.

[ga flatwoods]

"Change of plan TB! You keep post toward those girls with tha Sharps and Brock can watch me. I am going doen again with a plan in mind. You gonna like this!" "Have some fun for me Flats and be careful. I dont feel like a burying your old ass today! Well not planning on that to happen but if it does i reckon you can just lay me out pointing east on that rock preface. Surely nothing wild will try to pick or ravenge these old bones. With winter onset soon when you come back next spring i will like like one dem gyptian mummies! All i ask is have one dem girls pee on me twice a year for a few to help keep me in good spirits and a token of appreciation!" TB said "get your ass outa here and good luck, see you in few!"
In a blink of an eye Flatwoods was a shadow. The ghillie suit he made was a piece of art. As he eased down in the remaining darkness towards the outhouse he wondered if he had messed up by placing GB with the girls. Now he was on the receiving end of his scope rather thatn GB being in the range of his own 45. Too late now, Corene and TB would do what is needed if necessary. Besides if GB was out for foul good he had already been given his chance.
Within minutes Flatwoods was within 10 yards of the outhouse looking like any other piece of the meadow. He had taken the chance to check it out when he had visited earlier. It was built in a perfect alignment with a path from the house to the smokehouse to the outhouse. the door did not hinge toward the house but away as it was a two seater and open to the meadow so no one from the smoke house or house would see the occupants inside if opened. It was lare enough to contain a coal pot for warmth in the winter and airy enough to be cool in summer. Flatwoods had worked on this house in years past as he was well know for both blowing up and repairing outhouses in the area. A trademark of his was to hinge the lid so that lime could periodiotically be added with ease. It was not long before the first guest came calling. For lack of a better name Flats had decided to call him Wushurichard. He was the tall lanky one. He was holding his gut and walking with a quick step as he had just eaten the last of the dinner from last night and drank down a quart of coffee with it to help cut the grease. He was in a bad way now. He promptly opened the door and stepped inside. Flatwoods waited, his bloodpressure had gone done and his focus was tuned in to the task at hand. Once the cavernous hell pit became vocalized he would strike> T H H H U U U M M M P P P! AND G R U N T! It was time....

[ga flatwoods]

"Somabitch! LOOK TB! That damn Flatwoods looks like a sasquatch going into that outhouse with that guy! WTF?" exclaimed Brock. TB did not have to look to see that something had happened. He had seen the look on GB's face and eyes that it was on. And true, it did look chilling. Flatwood was no small man and the ghillie suit accentuated that.
Poor ole Wushurichard was in lockdown mode when Flatwooods snatched the door open. He had thought it to be one of the guys from the cabin. Needless to say he NEVER expected to see a sasquatch open the door on him whill taking a crap! He truly shit himself. His eyes grew large as saucers and never did really focus on the beast before the 45 Colt hit him in the dead so hard as to knock him out. his body releived itself of all tension as Flats had seen happen so many times before. A quick piece of string from the ghillie and a piece of cloth for a gag and Wushurichard fell into the cavernous abiss of the pit, pants around his ankles. Flatwoods waited....
Wasnt too long fore Janitor47 came out giving Wushu hell for not being out yet. He had to go as well. Flatwoods grinned with anticipation. "Look TB a second one has come out and Flatwoods is still inside!" Brock said talking as if giving play be play commentary to TB. "He will be fine, you just keep that rifle trained down there Brock!" "Come on out you asshole! What the hell you doing in there? I gotta go man." "U G G G H H H !" said Flats in a response. Janitor beat on the door again. In a gruffed voice Flatwood mumbled "Two seats!" "Damn you !, Oh well, you asked for it!" Janitor said in a sarcastically response as he snatched open the door. Flatwoods still in the ghillie suit grabbed him with his large paw and snatched him inside faster that the light had time to flood into and out of the shithouse! Poor janitor never knew what had him. He too was tied up and gagged after the wrap on the noggin by that old 45. It would seem he REALLY DID have to go bad. "What the hell you all been eatin'?" Flatwoods asked the comotose Janitor in a sarcastic manner. Then, Janitor too happen to fall into the abyss! Time for a cigarette and to get out of this suit flatwoods thought. Time for Tater....

[ga flatwoods]

One thang that had kept Flatwoods alive as long as he had been is that he was an excellent judge of men. He knew Tater within miutes of watching ther three men. He was a big, older, honary, take no shit from no one, unsympathetic, ruthless, yet loyal man to what he committed himself too. At times a real mean sombitch and others showing a side of decent humanity. He had proven himself many times over as a go to guy for Uncle Mo. That is why he was here now. Flatwoods kinda respected him as he was much the same way. However, this made Tater dangerous. He would not be taken in the outhouse as the other two had been. Flatwoods rolled several smokes, lit one and waited....
Half way the second smoke Tater went to cursing the other two for not coming on so that they could get to work. Once they didnt answer, Flatwoods knew he too would come calling. Flats drew heavily upon the smoke. So much so that it fogged the inside the outhouse and was rolling in obvious fashion from under the eves. Again Brock noticed and excalimed that "Flatwoods must have set the outhouse on fire! Look at the smoke! Here comes Tater!" TB just grinned and told Brock to get ready the main event was about to take place.
Tater had long ran out of tobacco as had the other two or so he thought. Now they were both in the shithouse smoking without him. He was pissed in more ways than one now, especially after smelling the oh so sweet smell of the smoke for one having withdrawals. "You two better damn sure have a cigarrette left for me!" With that said, he snatched open the door and a fog enveloped his head. From outa the mist Flatwoods jumped on him in a four limbed grsp and shoved the remainder of the cigarrette into his right eye cherry and all! Tater let out a blood curdling scream as the two of them fell backwards out of the shithouse and smoke fog into view of the others. By the ime they hit the dirt, Flatwoods had both thumbs buried to the rear of Tater's eye sockets cutting the rear and insides with his long thumbnail all the while trying to pull each eyeball from the socket. Trouble was they deformed like a muscodine grape inside the hull before extruding and would not come out. Tater was flailing wildly like a banshee or tasmanian devil. he was throwing wild licks everywhere, one or two catching fglatwoods where it hurt. Unable to get to his pistol immediately Flatwoods resorted to chocking Tater with a deathgrip round his throat. he would get his eyebalss out one way or another! After several punches to the Kidney, Flatwoods had made up his mind that this one would have to die! Where was Brock!?......

[goinbroke2]

GB was watching through the scope as the first one made a bee line for the shitter. After he went in he saw the ground slowly rising as if the moss and leaves had come alive. Holy crap GB thought, that's quite the gillie suit Flat made. After watching him enter the shitter and close the door he opened his left eye a bit and saw Corene turned in his direction. "Nice outfit huh"? he softly whispered. Corene just glared at him then turned back towards the cabin. The second one came out of the cabin a little bit later and headed for the shitter. Uh oh thought GB, Flat is still inside with the first one, I hope TB and Brock are ready. But then the door opened and the second guy was pulled inside, door closed and all was quiet again. Snickering GB whispered "man that outhouse is eating people alive, ain't nobody comin out".
Smoke started rolling out from under the eaves. "What the heck is that" thought GB, "why aren't Brock or TB going to help him"? Is he burning the building down around hisself or is there a fight going on and we can't hear it way over here?
A third guy walked out of the cabin, heading towards the outhouse as well. Now this aught to start a party, no way four guys can wedge into that little building. He opened the door and a wall of fists exploded out of the building. All of a sudden there was a screeching like a tit caught in a ringer. The two rolled around and it looked like he was torturing him more than anything. Man, what a miserable old bastard that Flatwoods is, that poor guy is screeching something awful. "Just kill him already, Flat" GB said. It was hard to watch through the scope as they were bouncing and moving around so much but one thing was clear, the guy wasn't giving up without a fight. After a couple of hard kidney shots GB noticed the fight was evening out a bit. Oh to be sure Flat was locked on him like a pitbull but the guy was starting to connect the odd time and it had to hurt. GB waited for TB or Brock to intervene but it seemed to be taking a long time. He saw Flat lift his head and look around. "Now that's a sign" GB thought, "do I help out or let one of his buddies help him?"
He sighted back down the scope and said "I think he's had enough fun". Just then he heard a hammer thumbed back right beside his left ear. Opening his left eye again he couldn't see Corene but realised she was back and to the left of him with a pistol at his head. "GODAMMIT WOMAN"! GB barked, "If you was watchin Flat instead of me you'd see he needs help!" "Just look at how..." that was the last GB said as Corene had enough. She wasn't taking a chance on who GB was shootin at. The sound of the shot stopped the fight between Flat and Tater, they both looked up as TB jumped into to help Flat........

[ga flatwoods]

Corene had indeed had enough but at this point all three of the guys below were basically contained as there was never any doubt in her mind that Flatwoods would not have the upper hand in any fight of his choosing. The objectives had been met and there was no way she would allow GB to bring harm to any of her friends or the mission. Kin maybe but long gone. Time and circumstances change folks. Hell, he too could work for Uncle Mo, who would know the difference? She had been thinking about this the whole time since she laid eyes on him. Look at Jed for example, whose side is he really on? She had been taught long ago that if you ever draw down on someone you had best be prepared to act. She now had the hammer drawn back with the barrel basically point blank at GB's head. "Just shut the hell up!" she kept thinking in her mind. The decision made, she pulled the trigger. In that micro second many different things happened. GB had his life flash before his eyes, all the good, the bad, happiness and sad, first memories to last, a thought of regret and request for forgiveness. He had indeed come back with honorable intentions but to a tough situation in a tough time for tougher folks who dealt with such in a tough manner. He was awakened in that microsecond as to where he stood in their eyes and he understood what had been done and why. He had made a big mistake and it cost him. If anyone ever has an angel of mercy, GB was in dire need....

"Who shot?" Flatwoods asked TB as he got up off Tater. "Up on the hill, sounded like Corene. I havent had time to see what was going on since you jumped out that shithouse like a cat from a croaker sack! Damn Flats, what did you do to this poor man? He looks like he just walked through the gates of hell all bleeding out the eyes and shit!" "He will be ok, eventually! Shouldnt be no problem to get what we need, you know the techniques TB." Flatwoods was hurting more than he tried to show. He went in and looked down upon his two captives in the pit and picked up his last cigarette and lit it with trembling hands. Aggrevated and needing to vent he lit into Brock for not being there to get him off Tater sooner! "We needed him more alive than 3/4 dead as I had to leave him just to be able to turn him loose dam it!" he exclaimed. "Thanks TB, I had him down for the count,hell he was on a four count out of ten and I was about to walk off of him! Best fight I had in years! Now I got blood all over me as well as a bruise or two. Now I am leaving them to y'all. GB can fetch up them two in the outhouse. I"all see y'all later!". With that said Flatwoods began his slow the climb back to his camp. Pulled out a flask and took a long well deserved drink thinking all the time "I am getting too damn old for this crap!"

He noticed out the side of the meadow that Sarah, Corene, and GB were headed down to the cabin. GB led the way with Corene behind him gun pointed. She had his rifle. The oil can suppressor looked like a piece old scrap metal tagged to the end of his barrel. "Looks like Corene has things in order and well attended to" thought Flatwoods as he continued toward the camp.

[Truckinbutch]

Time out for a rewrite here . Reality check , please . No fool can make a guaranteed money shot with the first round through an oil can suppressor or any rounds after that . We are not on a search and destroy mission here . This started as a recon and intel patrol . What purpose did it serve to kill the man that might have some answers right on the getgo ? Is GB playin for the other team and wipin out trails ? Mall Ninja mentality with no sense of tactics ?
I would have liked to share a Coke with Tater if we could rewrite enough to keep him alive long enough to be questioned .
Nothing is going to go forward without up to date intel .

[goinbroke2]

Could rewrite, or, find all the paperwork they got in the cabin?

Naw, rewrite seems better in this case. See update.

[S-Cackalacky]

Opened up a little cliff hanger there GB. Did Corene blow your head off or is she just fuckin' with your ear drums? Now Flatwoods will have to do something about HIS last post because it appears you didn't shoot Tater.

I hope GB's not dead cause now somebody else gonna have to deal with them two shits in the crap house.

[jedneck]

Na Tater ain't dead. GB winged him in the shoulder, just a flesh wound.
Never mind flatwoods works better.

[ga flatwoods]

I edited before SC and Jed responded!

[S-Cackalacky]

Good job of editing on the fly.

A little off topic tidbit - while I'm sitting here enjoying the forums, my wife is watching "Elementary" on the tube. It's a series about a modern day Sherlock Holmes with Luci Lu as Watson. They just found nurse Ledbetter in a dumpster, dead and stinkin'.

[corene1]

As she stood behind GB her mind was racing. Who was in the crosshairs of his scope? She did not know , but knew Flatwoods would always end up on top even if he took a whipping first. He was just that kind of man and she also knew TB wouldn't let harm come to Flatwoods either. She had to make a decision now! She pulled the hammer back on the old .45 long colt a split second later she saw GB tense and then she squeezed the trigger. The oil can silencer blew into a million pieces and nearly pulled the rifle from GB's hands. She quickly stepped back out of reach as GB jumped up . What the hell are you doing you crazy bitch. She had the hammer back a second time with the barrel pointed right in his face. Don't ever call me a crazy or a bitch ever again, you are lucky it is my birthday today and I am feeling gracious. Now I will have those sleeve guns you have also. Move slow and put them on the ground. I was just going to help Flatwoods he exclaimed, Flats doesn't need any of that kind of help, now I'll have that boot gun also. Sarah gathered them up and the three of them started heading for the outhouse where Flatwoods and TB were. Now GB , you can explain what you were doing to them and if they buy it I will accept you as an ally but that is as far as it will go. You have said a lot of things about me that just aren't true , you aren't blood kin to me so it makes no never mind. Sarah whispered into Corene's ear with a little smile. You think he was able to hear all of that?

[goinbroke2]

GB's left ear was ringing like a bell and all he could see was Corene mouthing something. All her pantomiming obviously meant she wanted him to drop his weapons, fine he thought, enough of this shit. He was thinking how to formulate the words but it just kept coming back to "I could of shot anyone of you if that was my plan". No doubt that would get their pride all up and of course make his situation worse.
Once they were down in front of the cabin everybody seemed to be yelling but he didn't know who at. Me I guess, but some pile of arguing. He could make out a bit with his right ear but that was ringing too. His scalp was burning and as he scratched it he noticed the blood, GREAT, my fucking ear is bleeding too.

GB stepped out in front of the rest and the noise seemed to die down. "I've never done nothin to any of you since I got here, I told you over and over why I was here and yet you still give me the stink eye." He turned to Corene "maybe all you remember is a snot nosed kid who stayed with you for a little bit and maybe it didn't mean anything to you, hell maybe I took some of what food there was from you, I dunno. But I'll tell you from my end of it, after losing my Ma and my Pa being all messed up, being at your place with a mother and a father and even a kid to play with, it's always been a special time in my life I look back on. But apparently either it didn't mean anything to you or you flat don't care but I'll tell you now I'm done. I came back thinking you needed help, if this place or you never meant anything then I wouldn't have come. I spent all my time growin up over at Clarks garage and married his daughter so I guess we didn't have the same circle of friends but damnit I had good intentions comin' back."

He turned and looked at them all, one at a time in the eye, "make a choice, either yay or nay, I'll pack my shit and head home or help you out, your choice but I'm not putting up with this bullshit anymore". He kind of wondered if they were thinking of a third option of just pluggin' him right there but at that point he was so pissed he didn't really care. "AND" he added "whoever fucked with my rifle could of got somebody killed, I've used that silencer many times and never had one blow all to hell like that so you can kiss my ass for that too".

He turned walked over to the pump, primed it with the dipper and pumped some water into the pail then proceeded to wash the blood that had ran down his face, neck and onto his shirt. He could see they were mumbling to themselves...actually they could of been yelling for all he knew, everything was sounding like it was in a drum. DAMN he thought, I really got a splitting headache, I'm hungry, need a drink...what a frigging day, who'd a thunk I'd have more issues with the ones I'm with then the ones I'm after? A couple of sips from the little tin dipper and he turned to face them......

[S-Cackalacky]

While GB splashed his face and tried to regain his senses, the others huddled around grumpling and occasionally pointing in his direction. Meantime, sorrowful moans and wailing’s began to rise up from the outhouse. The two idiots waylaid by Flats had come to and had arrived to the conclusion they had surely died and found themselves in hell. The crowd outside just looked at one another and went into uproarious laughter. GB scowled – thinkin' it was all at his expense.

Butch walked unhurriedly to the outhouse, opened the door, flung open the seat lid, and shouted down, “both you boys alive down there?”. The two looked up with wide white eyes staring from behind shit covered faces thinkin' it was surely the devil hisself speakin'. Butch hollered down, “If you ain't got your asses out of than shit hole in five minutes, I'm puttin' a slug in both your heads, They went into a flurry of action – all the time bemoaning their fowl condition. The biggest of the two laced his fingers and gave a leg up to the other. And the smaller of the two in turn gave a helping hand down to the big man. The slippery shit caused their hands to slip apart and the big man fell back into the shit hole with a splash that found it's way up into the face of the other. After much squabbling and cussin', they both exited the shit house – covered head to toe in the fowl stinch.

Butch waved his pistol in the general direction of the creek and warned them, “If either of you even look like you might want to run, I wouldn't mind killin' both your stinkin' asses. Now get on down there to the creek and wash yeselves off.”. They walked clumsily along trying to keep a distance from the stink of one another.

Brock looked at Sarah and said, “Hon, why don't me and you go on in the cabin and see if them ole boys got a change of clothes in thar.” Corene cut a look at Brock that could have killed a lesser man. Sarah glanced at Corene and gave her a reassuring wink. The two made their way to the cabin. GB was finally coming to his senses and Flats was beginning to feel a little self concious about the gillie suit. He looked at Corene and said matter of factly, “Now ain't this a shit hole mess of a situation?”. They both broke up with laughter and even GB joined in. It was the best Flats had felt in many a day.

[S-Cackalacky]

OK, I got the fuckers out of the hole. Now it's time for one of you more in tune with the plot strategery to move it along.

[ga flatwoods]

+1 SC! Time to bring Chi and Washington to Pagosa and bring this pimple to a head.

[jedneck]

+1 SC! Time to bring Chi and Washington to Pagosa and bring this pimple to a head.

I'm working on a way to get that bastard that beat my ass in Chicago to bet on the race.
But don't let that stop anybody else from getting them there.

[HDNB]

Looking over the cuts and bruises on Jed's face Larry turned to him and said "Man, those boys tuned you up!" Jed snorted his derision "I would'a beat them pricks down, but i needed to talk to the boss. Low lifes like them don't got no weight."
Now it was Larry's turn to laugh. "Two on one, they think they all that. I can see you're a man that can handle hisself. I'm only surprised you didn't get in a few licks of your own."
Jed chuckled and said "it would have been hard to tie myself up so Enrico felt safe if they were both on the floor sleeping."
"Don't kid yourself friend, Enrico would put a bullet in you in a second."
Larry continued "You're lucky to have the line on some whiskey. It's been hell around here, the revenues busted up all the good stillers here and we gotta go out of state to find anything worth drinking. We had a couple fellas bringing in some aged stock from the hills in Colorado, but they done up and disappeared. If Enrico ever hears of them again, they're dead."
Jed smiled. It was always this way with the criminal element. If you kept your mouth shut and just listened to them, they would tell you everything. It seems like nothing is real to them until they say it out loud to someone else. Larry continued his stories and Jed came to realize that the two guys that were supposed to be packing whiskey down them trails on mule train were the same two guys that the bosses in Washington had told him to be on the lookout for.
They were two deep cover agents of the FBI, one old wrinkled up bastard they had called Sam, and a newer younger kid that was smart and fast. They teamed the two, brains with the brawn to do the heavy lifting.
What was that kid's name again? Jed thought to himself.
"Ben stiller" said Larry, almost like he was reading Jed's mind. "Damn, that kid could hoist a barrel of Whiskey on his shoulder by hisself. Damn, that's gotta be 300 pounds!" Larry looked truly impressed and Jed continued to listen.
"Him and that ole boy went up them hills weeks ago to bring our buy down and the ain't been seen since. Took the cash upfront too, man that's dangerous." Larry let out a low whistle.
Ben Stiller. Jed recalled the kid's name on Larry's prompt. It concerned him, because they would have delivered to maintain cover if they could. Since they had not shown up and head office was looking for them...that was a bad omen.
Larry continued. "We sent three more guys up there over a week ago to find them and if they ain't back by the weekend Enrico gonna shit a kitten. Claws and all."
"Where these boys going for whiskey?" asked Jed
"Some back water town in Colarado. Near Pagosa Springs. Enrico's sister married some local asshole there that owned most of the town. She died about five years ago, but he has stayed in touch."
Jed marvelled at Larry's alacrity to share confidential information.
Larry continued "Marcel distributed small amounts of queer here and there, but his main gig was to send the local whiskey down from the hills. Damn, he had some good connections. Them boys up Colorado know how to make some shine."

[HDNB]

Jed had listened intently to all of Larry's ramblings. The booze he was thinking he had a lock on...well.... Larry was talking about the same stuff. A bottle of likker can't be at two places at once, he mused. Apparently it was already on it's way here, with either two of the FBI's best deep cover agents or the three goons sent to find them.
Jed felt the walls closing in.
Now he had to deliver 15 grand worth of likker and being out of touch with his secret stillers society for a month or two now had him worried.
If he didn't deliver the booze, there was no queer. No Queer, no bust. No Bust left Enrico and all his crew on the streets and only a matter of time before they put the numbers together and him and his people were made.
He had a flash of compassion for Coleen, the young redhead he had shared some training time with. He recalled how she had been placed in close observation and how the those goons on the train had tried to silence her. He had to get back to the Palmer house and warn off Wooteck and Phil, before shit hit the fan.

[Truckinbutch]

Interesting fracus we'd had here .Flatwoods and I trussed Tater while Brock and Sara rummaged up some fresh clothes for them jaybird nekkid boys down there washin up in that frigid creek . They hadn't even attempted to salvage the clothes they had on . Just chucked them on the bank .

>We all walked down about the time they was cleaned up enough to put on fresh clothes and surrounded them . That skinny , young bastard stomped to the bank first . Indignant as hell over the way he was being treated . Rooster in the shithouse ?
"How old are you , Boy ?" I asked in my most menacing , gravely Sam Elliot voice .
"29 , my last birthday . What the fuck does that matter ?"

>Sara went to gigglin and nudged Corene as she pointed at his cold water shriveled 'parts' ,"Boy ain't saved much for retirement , has he , Corene ?" Corene laughed along with her and the rest of us and the fire just drained straight out of that shithouse rooster .
The big guy just sloshed up out of the creek and put on dry clothes without a word .
>We herded them back up and trussed the big one in the barn . The 'shithouse rooster' we trussed in the smokehouse . That way they couldn't talk while we was focusing on Tater in our quest for intel . The rest agreed to take Tater up to the house and tie him fast to a sturdy chair while I went to fetch one pair of my saddlebags .
>Brock and Flatwood's eyes lit up when I came back in with the bags and set them down on the floor . They made an obvious clinking sound , like bottles bumping together inside of padding . I parked me a chair right in front of that Tater and studied him for a bit . Pulled a quart of my blackberry , that few people get , to my folks to sip on while I continued to study that trussed up Tater .

>I could tell , right off , that that was a mean sumbitch . Built like a fireplug on steroids and not one to be panicked by simple intimidation like those other two dummies we had trussed up . I was surprised that Flatwoods had done so well against him . They were pretty much evenly matched for size and skill .
>I faced him on the chair that I had turned backwards to avoid kicks and started buildin a charge in my pipe with meticulous care . His eyes never left my hands as I packed up and then struck a match to a rewarding draw on my pipe . Blew the smoke just past him enough that he could only get a whiff . I saw the longing in his eyes and knew I had the first round . Pulled a bottle of CocaCola from my other pack and popped the lid off on the edge of the table . Sara cringed at that sacreledge to her fine oak table , but kept silent .
>I took a sip of that Coke , warm as it was , and watched Tater follow every move . Pulled some papers from my shirt pocket and rolled up a fine cigarette that I stuck between Tater's lips and lit with a match . I saw his eyes change as the nicotine sped through his system . He was at his most vulnerable at that moment ......................

[Truckinbutch]

"We can make this easy , Tater . Talk to us and we won't have to ask you in a hard way ,"
>Tater had been expecting a beating and was prepared for that .He knew that he could weather the worst beating short of death without talking .
>Tater spit out the stub of the cigarette he had been inhaling and looked me in the eye .
>"Fuck you !"
>"Suit yourself ," I said as I placed my thumb over the mouth of that Coke bottle and vigorusly began shaking it . Several good shakes and then I jammed that bottle mouth into one of his nostrils and held it there until his sinus passages were clear and Coke was spilling out his mouth .
>A carbonated bottle of CokaCola seems pretty benign until you apply it in a vigorus manner to sinus passages . Thus applied it convinces the brain that a volcano has just erupted inside the head and anything that can be done to prevent that happening again should be done . Before Tater could recover from the first dose I knocked the top off of the second bottle and gave him another dose . Then I set the next bottle on the table and we all waited for him to recover enough to talk to us or have another Coke .

[goinbroke2]

GB watched TB working on Tater and accepted a pull on a bottle of something Brock passed over. He said "bmmmwwwmmmm" and GB just nodded his head. "Can't hear a fricken thing" he thought to himself. "Damn this is good, chokecherry or blueberry" he asked. TB raised his eyebrows and Sara smirked while Corene was wide eyed then giggled too. All they heard was "dab dith ith goo, cho-terry o bu-terry"? GB just scowled and turned back to TB and Tater. After a minute and another pull on that excellent brandy he headed outside. After relieving himself he wandered into the barn and over to the big one trussed up. He sat down and just watched him for a minute as the guy struggled with the ropes. "Not saying anything" he mumbled. GB couldn't really understand anything he said so he turned his head away, effectively looking away from him as if he was bored. He was actually turning his right ear towards him hoping he could understand something. "I said I'm not telling you squat" he said a little louder. GB pulled out his knife and started cleaning his fingernails, staring intently at them and completely oblivious to the man who was getting restless. GB tried to pronounciate as best he could and said to himself "he must be almost dead in there by now". Done with his fingernails he pulled off a boot and proceeded to check out his toenails next. "what are they doin to him"? the guy asked. GB ignored him and started looking over his sock as if to be looking for a hole. "he won't talk, hey, he won't talk no matter what you do" GB looked at him "whether he does or not don't matter, we just want one person to talk, the other two get a bullet" then calmly pulled his sock on and put on his boot. He got up and stomped his foot and stretched then looked at the big guy all trussed up with his strength and attitude slowly draining out of him, "and once one person talks, it's over for the other two right then and there".
As he got up and turned to the door he heard "I'll talk then". GB walked away and said over his shoulder, "oh yes, yes you will".

[ga flatwoods]

It was the best Flats had felt in many a day.
Enjoyed all of that guys! Well strategized and hilariously written. One wrong idea though. Janitor 47 would not have found the smell offensive as everyone else.
GA Flatwoods

[Truckinbutch]

'Cmon , Flatwoods , even Janitor has standards . He has improved his station since he started hanging out with us .

[ga flatwoods]

'Cmon , Flatwoods , even Janitor has standards . He has improved his station since he started hanging out with us .

Janitor hangs out with you, I just happen by from time to time.
Ga Flatwoods