Page 68 of Midnight

Dylan didn’t tell Angie what was happening other than Jacob was on the road to a full recovery and he was going home for a couple of days to help out there. But for the first time in days, he felt hopeful that this was going to endthe cloud of suspicion and speculation under which they’d lived.

He was pushing the speed limit, full of anxiety and expectation, but when he saw the familiar sign of the Yellow Rose Café in the distance, he began to relax. He was almost home.

A few minutes later, he passed the café, then the gas station, then took the turn into the driveway leading to their house behind the bar. Even as he was pulling up to park, he was wondering if what they were looking for was buried somewhere out there.

He was circling the SUV to get his things when Ash and Gunner came out to greet him.

“Good to see you. I’ll get your bag,” Gunner said, then carried it inside.

“That’s the metal detector,” Dylan said, pointing to the box.

“I’ve got it. Come in out of this cold,” Asher said.

Dylan paused as they were passing through the kitchen and looked at the basement door. “It’ll be a hell of a thing if it’s down there after all this time, won’t it?”

Asher nodded. “I hope it is. We need this over with.”

“Okay. Just let me get my stuff put up and we’ll get this party started,” Dylan said.

Ash was already reaching for his pocketknife to start opening the box. “I’ll unpack the detector. We can figure out how to use it afterward.”

“I know how,” Dylan said. “I’ve used them on job sites before. Fairly handy in locating where old plumbing lines run beyond housing sites.”

“Awesome, then you’re going to be our dowser. Only we’re trying to find a money box, not a water source,” Ash said.

A few minutes later, the brothers were gathered in thekitchen. They had the metal detector assembled and had just begun charging the battery in it.

“It will take a good two hours at least to fully charge this,” Dylan said. “Is there anything to eat here? I’ve had one cup of coffee and no breakfast. I’ll settle for anything,” he said.

“I could do with breakfast, too,” Gunner said.

Asher knew the day ahead was going to be tough for all of them. Might as well begin it with good food in their bellies.

“Then let’s go see Pearl about biscuits and gravy, then swing by Belker’s for groceries before we go home.”

* * *

The Brandt brothers’ intent on making a second run at the Tumbleweed stalled when Freddie came down with the flu, then Everett caught it, too. They were both running fevers, aching from head to toe, and huddled up beneath the covers.

Freddie had decided somewhere around midnight last night that his life was in peril. The room was spinning, and his fever had spiked. He got up and staggered down the hall to his brother’s room.

“Everett! I’m sick. I’m bad sick,” he moaned.

Everett groaned. “Well, damn it, Freddie, so am I. Take something for the fever. Drink lots of water, and get back under the covers.”

Freddie headed for the kitchen. Everett had been smoking weed there and the scent made his head spin. He got a glass of water, staggered back to the table. His vision kept blurring, and he had to hang on to the back of the chair to keep from falling as he sorted through the pharmaceuticals spread out before him.

Unfortunately for Freddie, when he reached for the acetaminophen, he picked up one of Everett’s party drugsinstead. He made it back to his bed, pulled up the covers, and then laid there waiting for a measure of relief, but what he got was a waking nightmare.

Birds that morphed into bats began flying across his line of vision. A naked woman with green skin was sitting on his feet and fire was dancing across his bed. He was convinced that he was dying in hell.

He started crying and screaming. “Everett! Everything is on fire. I think I’m dying. I’m dying in hell. Save me, brother! I don’t want to die!”

It was the “everything is on fire,” comment that made Everett ignore his raging fever, throw back the covers, and run faster than he thought possible, considering the floor undulating beneath his feet.

But when he got into Freddie’s room and saw nothing but the blown pupils in Freddie’s eyes, he cursed.

“Damn it, Freddie! You’re not dying. You’re high. What the hell did you take?”