Gold mine massacre chapter 1

I glanced at the information sign that read `BETTLES`, but it flashed by too quick to see the miles to go. So after a habitual scan of my watch, thinking, ` gotta stop doing that`, I went back too the cd pile and tried to fumble out something we haven't heard yet. Giving up, I slid the drawer back in while `Long John Baldry` was telling us for the last time "don`t try to lay no booggie wooggie on the king of rock and roll". Sorry was starting to show disgust as my eyes darted back and forth from the highway to the fm band. I knew she would rather listen to a cow peeing on a flat rock, so I fought the temptation and once again considered opening the header gates for that 90mph purr. She caught me gazing at the switch and, caving in she opened the boom drawer that she has slammed shut on my fingers in previous times because of her sensitive hearing. Then she turned her gaze out her open window as if to chastise me. 

Grinning like an idiot, I set the amp to her favorite cd, one I remixed just for the amp with four 12s and her overly tuned in ears. She liked Etta James, Susan Tedeskee and Bonnie Rait and the like. The first note put a hint of a smile on her face and a quick look of approval before she turned back to the window to jam in her own little world, so I knew I could get away with crankin it up one more notch. As the four 12s and eight speakers were boomin I flipped the header gate switch to complete my taste in music, she didn't respond, she was too much into the rhythm and blues boogie woogie. Or was counting trees, or saw a rabbit. Cracking another beer and settling back in for the ride I noticed my foot and the six speed Allison transmission snuck us up to 130mph, since there was no traffic I hit cruise and we went with it. All the detection screens were bored silly but if the luggage tote on the roof which was actually radar and an assortment of ir, sound and ping sensors picked anything up the computer would automatically make us half assed legal again.

I thought about the gold mine Sorry and I bought into, neither of us knowing what we were getting into but agreeing we need the change. Not seeing Muk Muk for years but instantly answering his email proposal to the affirmative without knowing any details and not luring him into the desperate hard sell I always got a kick out of teasing him into must have blown his mind. He`s got to remember how slow and lazy I am thinking back to the jokes he used to make about me like, "Rico is so lazy he can`t dig his own foxhole". I glanced at Sorry who just hit the replay button on a Billie Holliday song, never shoulda showed her that button I mused, but thankful she didn t like opera. I turned my feeble mind to Kiko, the third partner in the Red Devil gold mine that now belonged to three very different people. I haven't  met the widow but her and Muk were long time friends that occasionally partnered in lucrative business ventures. Now that her husband was killed in one of the middle east wars, she was ready to sell her dojo and leave LA. Scott was also a detective with the LAPD, and a decent pilot, but with a shitload of `sams` on your six even luck can run out. Muk says she`s 40 going on twenty and a master in martial arts as well as an accomplished artist. Sounds like someone likes to stay busy.

 Finally the turn off was just ahead and squinting at the fuel gauge it looked like we might make it there before running out. I could have stopped and topped off a few dozen miles ago, but remembering the last fuel stop when the empty beer cans spilled out and went skittering across the parking lot and Sorry got out and herded them over to the trash can giving me the "evil eye" I'm not sure, but that might have embarrassed Sorry and I never want to hurt her feelings, so I figured we could do with out another stop. The other customers didn't seem to see the humor in that either. I reached up and turned on the reserve tank as we turned onto a road the graders have given up on long ago. Sorry looked at the pile of cans at her feet and winked at me, I was wondering if she was mentally thanking me for not stopping at another gas station when the road turned into two twisting and tortured ruts deep enough in random spots to hang a wheel in air while the undercarriage of the van performed some much needed road grading. I was now straddling the ruts to maintain control of the steering and that calmed down the jaw slamming ride enough to keep our eyes in focus, wasn`t enough for Sorry, she wanted out so I gave her the nod and she leaped out the window and darted to the tree line then matched my speed 50 yards ahead. She was back in her element and happier than a puppy with two peters. Not able to navigate the beer can close enough to my mouth to do any reasonable good, I just hunkerd in and recalled the day I met Sorry.  

It was on one of the mud truck runs up the mountain, one of those where the last one still moving up is the winner. A truck to my left crashed through a pile of dead brush, probably hoping to gain more traction than I was getting and it seemed to be working, then I saw a black object squirt out of the tangled mess and there she was, just a little pup wondering WTF? I shut down my truck and walked over to check her out. She just stared back at me with foggy blue puppy eyes. No fear, just wonder.  A quick look at the brush that was grounded up and scattered told me she was now an orphan, she didn`t care much for the ride back down but when the old Chevy settled down on smooth road she calmed down and after a while the steady growl of knobby tires put her into a puppy nap. The first few months she refused anything that resembled training so I named her Sorry so at least when she pissed people off I could apologize and call her back at the same time. Between 7-8 months I gave up trying to teach her anything and that's when we both kinda zeroed in on her instincts and she on my reactions to every day events.  It wasn`t long and she knew what I would do in almost any given scenario whether it was dangerous or funny, routine or off the wall. Without realizing it, that was about the time we started developing "the look" and "the nod". The road had become dry and a little smoother and now Sorry was out in front of the rumbling van coaxing me on with her dead run. We were just entering the perimeter of a huge mining area that's been shut down for maybe 50 years, judging by the derelict trucks guarding the entrance, so this is where we meet our guide that will take us through the bush to the Red Devil.

Note: I am not a writer, didn`t even finish school, choosing to go to work instead. This book that I feverishly wrote for three days steady came about during some bizarre circumstances in the darkest days of my life, not wanting to, or even able to complete the publishing process I guess I will just post it here for shits and giggles. Hope nobody gets offended but instead gets a laugh or smile. I love reading and research and there are some great story's steemers are sharing, thank you all for that.