Read Online Booneville Retribution by S. Furlong-Bolliger - Free Book Online Page A

my money, and turned to leave. On the way out, I ran into Gus Severson, the esteemed mayor of Booneville.
    “Hey, Gus,” I started in, plastering a smile on my face. Then I stopped. Gus looked horrible. “You okay, Gus?” Although it was just a polite question—no one in town was okay since the plant closed.
    “Just a little down, that’s all, Larry. I just heard about Todd Landry.”
    I nodded. I knew Todd Landry—a young kid, fresh out of school. He’d worked the line at Halport. I hadn’t heard what he’d been up to since the plant closed.
    Gus swiped nervously at his brow. “You don’t know, do you? He shot himself, Larry. Cops found him this morning.”
    “What?”
    “Yeah, guess he did it right after the repo man took his truck.”
    “Oh, God.” I couldn’t believe it. “They took his truck? That truck was everything to that kid. He sunk every paycheck into it—lift kit, oversized chrome wheels, roll bar, halogen lights….”
    I threw up my hands and turned away. That was the last straw. It was just like in the war—some Halport CEO made a decision to destroy hundreds of lives from the comfort of a plush office just like those damn D.C. politicians did to me and my combat buddies in Nam. People were just expendable casualties that they could swipe away with a stroke of a pen.
    Dead kids, ruined families, so much senseless destruction … I had to do something. After Nam, I swallowed my bitterness and picked up with my life like nothing wrong had happened, but not now. Now I had to take a stand.
    Back in my truck, I recounted the wad of bills and worked out the details of my plan. More than likely I’d be immediately arrested, but what did that matter? Halport had destroyed my town. Someone needed to show them what Booneville was all about. And, tomorrow’s celebration would be the perfect time to do that. Besides, I had nothing to lose. Well, Dawn maybe, but we were already on the downhill slide; had been ever since I lost my job.
    * * *
    Late that night, I pulled into his garage with a pick up full of supplies to carry out my plan. I was hoping that Dawn was already asleep, or maybe out with the girls, but no such luck. I didn’t even have the gear in park before she made an appearance. “Where have you been? Do you know what time it is? You left for the bank at nine o’clock this morning!” She was wearing her favorite blue robe. I hated that robe. It looked like something that had been caught in the wheels of The Grinder at last year’s Monster Truck Rally.
    “Sorry, honey. I just had a few errands to run.”
    “What’s all that crap in the back of your truck? There better still be money in the checking account. Remember I told you I was getting my hair done before the festival tomorrow.”
    I avoided her stare and immediately busied myself unloading the truck. Dawn had this look about her. It could scare the piss out of a hornet. “Uh, looks like a lot, honey,” I started, struggling to come up for an explanation. “But it hardly cost anything. I was able to get a lot of bang for my buck.” I chuckled, silently admiring my own wit. A lot of bang for my buck—wasn’t that the truth?
    Dawn shook her head and stomped back into the house. At least she hadn’t asked about the supplies. There’s no way she would understand what I was about to do.
    I finished unloading and got down to business. A peaceful fog settled over my mind as I worked, punctuated by the hissing of the blow torch and the clanking of metal tools. As the night grew longer, mosquitoes began swarming. I swatted as they buzzed my ears and feasted on the damp areas on my back and face, even working their way under my welding mask. Just like in Nam, the little demons seemed to permeate everything.
    It was a weird thing. Mosquitoes always triggered memories of my time in the jungle. I remembered what it was like all those years ago as a scared twenty-year-old, hunched down in the hooch, wide awake, ears preened