One Man's Opus (Book 3): Opus Adventure Page 6

  “Hi, Momma, gooolacka ooopie doopie,” Owen said while laughing and holding onto a handful of Ophelia’s fur.

  “Don’t you rip her fur out, she might get you!”

  Ophelia turned her head and started licking the baby’s neck and the side of his face. He let go and started wiping immediately. He stayed out of trouble and stayed close with the help of Ophelia and Sarge while she got the charcoal lit. When she turned around, Rick was carrying the smaller cooler.

  “Want a beer?” Rick asked her.

  “Just one,” she told him.

  The dogs and Owen played while his parents watched. Opus was always nearby, but between Owen and the humans he owned. His human, Rick, had brought out drinks to go with the meat sticks he grilled and the meat patties he’d made for the dogs, over Tina’s objections. They were good, and his body craved more, but he knew he was full. He’d found some small rodent earlier while the cooking was going on. He’d left it for Ophelia, but she didn’t want it. Sarge wasn’t one hundred percent for sure what he was supposed to do with it, so Opus ate it. If he found another and killed it, the pup would know what to do.

  The evil squirrel overlords were relentless in their mockery, so practicing on the smaller cousins of the prey kept him young at heart, and he was passing lore on to a new generation to ensure they kept their humans out of trouble.

  “Opus, you want a beer?” Rick asked, cracking one open.

  “Don’t,” Tina said.

  “I’m not, not really,” Rick told her, still holding the can down.

  Opus walked up and sniffed it, then turned his head and sneezed once. Twice, three times. The liquid they were having smelled foul. He’d rather eat a half rotten cat than drink that swill.

  “He doesn’t want one,” Tina said. “Good Opus.”

  Opus chuffed his agreement with her. With both of them having the foul-smelling drinks, he knew they must be planning on staying. It was a new area, and although the big green machine that gave him rides was parked out of the range of the long-tailed furry terrorists, he’d have to be vigilant. He’d have to convey the danger to his pup. Ophelia had the best nose of the trio, but Sarge might someday grow larger than Opus. He didn’t mind, there were worse things in life. He made a good balance between him and his mate.

  Tina cringed at hearing the loud air compressor that was built into the big air mattress. She knew it blew up in less than a minute, but it was the loudest thing out here. They’d had the park to themselves and watched the coals from the grill flicker and die out with the setting of the sun. Owen didn’t stir from her lap, and two of the three dogs were near her. Opus, out of curiosity, was walking around the van and looking at the trees.

  “They can’t get us from in there,” Tina called softly.

  Opus made a grunting sound and continued to do whatever it was he did. Ophelia sat up and put her head on Tina’s lap.

  “Does that noise bug you, sweet girl?”

  Ophelia looked at her and made a chuffing sound and then sniffed at Owen. She was ready to push her back just in case the dog was going to start licking him, which they did often enough thinking he needed to be groomed… but she didn’t. She trotted over to see what Rick was doing.

  “You know, this has been peaceful, little man,” Tina said, running her fingers through Owen’s locks. “We had the park to ourselves most of the evening, had dinner, a couple of drinks and we can even camp here tonight. Well, not really, the park closes at dusk which it is, but the parking lot doesn’t.”

  Sarge got up and stretched, one leg stuck out behind him, then another. He got up on the bench across from Tina, sitting upright, looking around and then up high at the trees.

  “Not you too?” Tina told him.

  He let out a woof, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he saw something or was just sending a challenge into the wind. She generally got his body language, but he didn’t communicate the same way the other two did. Not exactly.

  “The squirrels can’t hurt us.”

  “Drop bears can,” Rick called over to her as the compressor shut off.

  “Drop bears are a hoax,” Tina called back softly.

  “Nuh uh, I saw it on YouTube.”

  Tina handed him Owen, and when they all walked to the van she saw half the floor space was filled with a bed and there was just enough room to set up a narrow Pack-n-Play they’d salvaged from an abandoned unit. The front seats were full of the gear they’d had in the back, and Rick had explained to her how many times he’d done this on hunting, camping, or fishing trips. She didn’t mention that even though he was probably wealthy, he still pinched pennies so hard they’d scream and streak his fingers, but she didn’t mind this. It was peaceful and serene.

  “Bed’s all made. Dogs can have their usual spots. If we crack a window, we won’t get too much moisture inside and…”

  “Race you,” Tina said, stepping up on the tailgate.

  “That’s no fair,” Rick told her, hands full of baby.

  He handed Owen up so she could put him in the Pack-n-Play. He walked around and opened the side doors. “Come on,” he called, and the three dogs bounded over. Opus was more energetic than normal after the hamburger, and Tina was pretty sure he’d caught and ate a couple of somethings. Both male dogs jumped in the middle and Opus immediately took his spot next to Owen’s car seat. Ophelia hesitated and Sarge jumped in and took the spot between the seats. Ophelia instead ran around to the back of the van and hopped in.

  “I don’t know if there’s going to be room for you back here, girl,” Tina told her.

  She grumbled and sat in the narrow spot between where the back door would close and the Pack-n-Play. Rick slammed the side doors, then came to the back and climbed in. The moon had risen and although it wasn’t bright, there was enough for them to see with the back doors open. The black tint made the inside very dark, but if you squinted, you could still see out from inside, but not vice versa. Tina was glad because though the big air mattress was comfortable, but it put their sleeping angle about a foot under the side windows.

  “She’s ok,” Rick said, closing the back doors, leaving them in the dark.

  “You lock everything up?” Tina asked as he crawled onto his side of the bed and pushed back the sleeping bag he’d put down.

  “Yes. How about we hit the bathroom in the morning and just drive through to Miami tomorrow?”

  “No shower?”

  “I’ll find a place along the way,” Rick assured her.

  “Good,” Tina said snuggling in, pulling the blanket over her legs.

  That was when Ophelia made her move and jumped up on the bed. Tina was about to warn her off when Rick moved slightly and she crept up to about their knees and laid there, her head between them.

  “This isn’t going to work out if she pushes me off the bed again,” Tina said.

  “She’s very protective of me,” Rick told her.

  From forward of them, Sarge let out a quiet bark.

  “Don’t wake the baby,” Tina scolded, and Opus let out a grumble.

  They settled in, and Tina found herself surprised that she was easily falling—

  “You, bitch, come out HERE!” Lance screamed.

  Tina backed up and hit the call button.

  “Get away from me!” she shrieked.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” a voice said, but was so quiet she could hardly hear.

  “I’m in the…”

  Lance shrieked and banged on the door so hard that it deafened her.

  In a blind panic she pulled out drawers. A weapon, she needed a weapon. Her right hand was full, so she tossed her phone as another blow hit the door, the jamb starting to break, the sound like an ice cube with warm liquid pouring over it, cracking. She pulled open her makeup drawer.

  There!

  11

  Rick

  Tina woke up with a start, making me come awake myself. I sat there in the darkness trying to figure out if she was going to fall back asle
ep from her nightmare or not. She’d curl in tighter to me until she found sleep again if that was the case. That was when Ophelia started making a low rumbling sound, her fur standing up. Owen moved in his sleep, then sat up himself.

  “Doggie,” I said, putting my hand on the side of the netting.

  Opus let out a low warning growl. It wasn’t his, ‘I’m talking to you’ voice; this was his ‘I’m about to rip a face off’ voice.

  “Rick,” Tina nudged me.

  “I’m awake,” I lied.

  “There’s something out there,” Tina whispered.

  “Out?” Owen asked, putting his hands up.

  My eyes had acclimated well in the pitch black of the van, and I could make out his form. He was on Tina’s side and she reached for him, sitting up.

  “I’m getting out,” I whispered.

  “No, I see something—”

  The side door of the van opened. Opus’ quiet, low growl turned into a sound I’d rarely ever heard. If a badly running chainsaw and a tyrannosaurus rex on crystal meth could blend voices, that was what erupted from his mouth as he scrambled over the car seat. I was knocked to the side as Ophelia launched herself into the middle row and all three dogs were barking and snarling.

  “Oh my God,” Tina shrieked, clutching Owen to her as a man’s screams sounded from outside.

  I don’t think he understood what was going on, but in my rush to get outside, my feet got tangled in the blanket and I fell, smacking into the back door. I kicked my legs free of the blanket as Owen started crying, and I found the latch to the door in the darkness. I got out, the moon lighting things up for me to see a man curled in a fetal position as two of the dogs were whipping their heads side to side, one with an ankle, the other with an arm. I couldn’t tell which, but one of the dogs was going for the beefier portion on the figure, the butt.

  “Nein,” both Tina and I chorused.

  Opus and Ophelia let go immediately as if tasered, though they were still snarling.

  “Sarge, off! Now!” I shouted in an angry voice, and surprisingly, he did.

  I could hear Owen crying behind me, even over the sounds of the crying figure on the ground. He tried to get up, but Opus rushed in again, his head darting low. The man curled up again. Behind me a light clicked on, and I could see the shredded pants and lightly bleeding arm of a man in his late twenties, slightly underweight, with wild hair, and a wild beard.

  “Sit,” I commanded as Tina walked up.

  She had my Beretta in her right hand, the flashlight in her left. As far as being a prepper goes, I’d just failed. I’d busted out there in my pants. That was it.

  “Owen?” I asked.

  “Back in the Pack-n-Play.”

  “Please, don’t sic them on me—”

  Sarge let out a snarl that had even Opus turning and looking. Tina shone the flashlight on him, and I saw a scrap of cloth hanging out of his mouth.

  “What you got?” I asked.

  He walked to me stiff legged, not looking away from the man, and dropped it at my feet. Then the man rolled over and it made sense. Sarge had ripped the pocket out of the ass of the guy’s jeans.

  “All three of you, sit and stay,” I told them.

  Tina gave a harsh bark of German or Hungarian and all of them went to her and sat in a line in front of her. I knew I was getting better, but she was good. She’d told me that Opus was trained to use commands in different languages than the usual police or military service dogs. It was unique to the trainers that Opus and Ophelia had come from. It cut down on somebody giving a conflicting command, one the dogs were trained to follow. They might hesitate if it came from the wrong owner, and they’d refuse if commanded to attack their owners, but it was pretty handy when she wanted them to all behave. Sarge learned from her and from following the other two.

  “They won’t move until I release them,” Tina told the man. “Get up slowly.”

  She handed me the pistol, and I held it low, but mostly pointing at the ground in his general direction.

  “I’m sorry, don’t sic them on me again. I promise, I’ll be out of your—”

  “What were you doing?” Tina asked, shining the flashlight in his face.

  He squinted and held a hand up to protect his eyes.

  “Looking for some food, man. I mean, ma’am.”

  “Homeless?” I asked him, realizing his state of dress and condition.

  “Yeah, I stay in the park on the other side of the creek.”

  Tina shot me a look, but in the dark I was focused on him. Behind us Owen started settling down as he heard our voices. I was thankful for that at least. I know him crying in fear or anger always got my blood pumping hard, as well as getting Opus and Sarge fired up. Ophelia was the ice queen in her own way, very reserved. My red-hot anger had taken me from fight to flight and mellowed out into something else entirely. The adrenaline dump was making me shake.

  “You go check on Owen,” Tina said, and it made sense; even though I was the guy with the gun, she had three furry missiles ready to be launched at his near helpless form.

  “Owen buddy,” I said suddenly, loudly.

  “Dayee,” Owen gave half a sob.

  I was blinded by the light clicking on earlier but could see Owen’s form moving in the back side of the Pack-n-Play. I made sure my gun was on safe, then tucked it away. I pulled Owen up, careful not to bang him on the low ceiling before turning and heading back to where I could hear Tina talking to the guy who tried to break into the van.

  “It’s ok, we got…” My words trailed off as I saw the three dogs had taken points around the man who was now standing on his feet, a mere three feet from Tina.

  “Everything ok?” I asked her nervously.

  “This is my husband Rick, and that’s my baby, Owen.”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were van lifers,” he said, his voice downcast.

  I noticed he was rubbing at his back, but his arm was scratched up.

  “So you were going to just rob a random van?” I asked him, a little bit of the anger still bubbling up inside of me.

  “I was looking for food, maybe some change or something I could pawn off,” he said, staring at his feet.

  I looked down to see what was so interesting and realized he was wearing a pair of flip flops that appeared to be repaired with duct tape. The anger melted again.

  “Listen,” I told him, “you’re lucky that my wife is a world class dog handler. If these three weren’t so well behaved—”

  I’d moved to stand next to Tina, but Opus blocked me and rumbled low.

  “What’s wrong, bud? You want mom to handle this?”

  Opus turned and looked at me, then deliberately turned his head to stare at the baby man then side stepped without fully turning my way to block me.

  “Ahhh I see,” I told him, and Opus chuffed.

  Tina turned back to the man. “I’m Tina and these are our fur babies.”

  Ophelia daintily sneezed, and I grinned at the absurdity of this moment.

  “We’ve got some food in the van we can set you up with for a while. I think Rick might even have a pair of shoes or boots he could part with, but what you’re doing… It’s not going to end well for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, his head down, “aren’t you going to call the cops?”

  “Is that what you want us to do? Get you locked up for something petty so you can have three squares a day?”

  “I don’t want to go back to prison,” he said and shivered, rubbing his arms despite the Florida heat. “It took me too long to kick the junk and stay clean.”

  “Then… we won’t call the cops,” Tina said.

  “Barshy?” Owen asked, one chubby hand pointing at the man.

  “What’s your name?” I asked him.

  “Barnes. Roy Barnes,” he said.

  I was dead tired. We didn’t go back to bed but had instead got my Coleman stove out and cooked everyone food. It was the larger on
e I kept in the van for camping purposes. Roy marveled at how we fit things in the van, especially with three dogs that were almost 100 pounds each. He told me a bit of his story and I must say, despite being tired, I was fascinated. See, at first, I was wary of him but when I saw how completely pathetic he was, something in me broke.

  Roy had been struggling with depression and anxiety his entire life. He’d enlisted in the Army at age nineteen but had failed a random drug test and had been booted out with a general discharge. His parents were so horrified by him getting bounced, that they’d enabled some tough love type action, including cutting off communications with him. He’d spiraled even deeper in depression and found himself doing stronger and stronger drugs. He’d started with pot, then moved onto meth, hashish and others. His first bust was trying to buy from an undercover cop. His second one was a raid on a drug house, where he was found passed out with a needle in his arm.

  As a repeat offender, he was given more than a slap on the wrist as he’d had more than a few hits on him. I marveled as he told me all of this. What really was fascinating was how he’d been living off the land, more or less. He was thin, but not three meals away from death’s door.

  “What do you do for food usually?” I asked him as we were eating our second family-size packet of mountain house, split up between the three of us.

  “I fish mostly, but I’ve got a few snares, working on a deadfall. Swamp cabbage and—”

  “Swamp what?” Tina interrupted.

  Owen was snoring softly in her left arm as she cradled him and ate with her right hand. I had an idea of what he was talking about, but I’d never seen it before.

  “From the Sabal Palm. You cut it right about at the heart. Kills the tree, but the inner portion tastes like cabbage and it fills your stomach.” Roy answered.