“I see your point, but I knew most of my neighbors and lived in the city,” I told them.
“No, no,” replied Vlad. “You lived outside the city, in the suburbs. Not the best, like the wide-open countryside, but better than the city. Plus, you like people. I knew a lot who didn’t. They went through the motions and spoke to those who were close family or long-time friends or those who gave them business to put food on the table. I had a lot of acquaintances over the years, owning my gun shop, but only a few friends.”
“Like Lonnie, right?” asked Jake.
“Yes, like Lonnie and only a few more. I feel that I have more friends here now than at any point in my life, here or there.”
“I know what you mean,” realizing my radio was on, sandwiched between my leg and the trailer, with the talk button engaged. “Sorry,” I said, clicking it off.
“I’m tearing up over here—really I am,” said Lonnie. “But can we just focus for a little bit longer?”
“Copy,” I replied, embarrassed but not feeling bad about it. “Hang on, buddy,” I told Ringo, kissing him on the head.
* * * *
We slowed only minutes later, with Lonnie on the radio.
“We’ve got something up ahead. Be ready but don’t engage. I repeat—don’t engage! I’m going to use your dog, Lance, as the excuse to be here. At least it’s worth a try. Make him look like its life or death, if you can.”
“It is,” I responded flatly. “They can take a look if they need to.”
“I’ll come up slow,” said Jake. “I know the Vet up here—if he’s still alive, of course. Let me do the talking.”
“All right,” said Lonnie, “but I’ll back you up. Pistols only, and none visible, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Jake agreed, hoping his man was still there.
* * * *
Lonnie and Jake walked slowly, side-by-side, up the road towards the barricade. It was a mix of vehicles, presumably not working, including an old country-style school bus with the yellow paint looking like it was out of a spray can from a not-talented graffiti artist and a VW bug that just looked out of place up here. In the middle was a purple and yellow pristine Chevrolet Corvette.
“That’s a ’96,” said Jake—the official pace car of the Indy 500 that year and one hell of a ride.
“That’s Carl’s car, right?”
“Who’s Carl?” whispered Lonnie.
“An old friend from high school,” he whispered back.
“How do you know Carl?” came the response from behind the barricade but not revealing themselves.
“My name is Jake, and Carl and I, plus our team of course, brought the Boulder High Panthers to the state championship in ’92 and won it.”
“You’re that quarterback, huh?”
“Yes, I was that guy.”
“Hold on,” came the reply.
Lonnie and Jake stood still in the middle of the road, between those they loved and swore to protect and some they had never met. Minutes dragged on, and I was getting nervous about Ringo and passing through here in general. An old truck pulled up behind the barricade fifteen long minutes later. Two more minutes and the voice was clear.
“Jake, is that you?”
“It’s me, Carl! Can we talk?”
“Hang on just a minute,” he said, and there were muffled voices behind the cars. “On that last pass you made to me for the championship, how many yards was it?”
“Twenty-seven, if you asked coach Riley, or twenty-four according to the refs who couldn’t officiate a JV team accurately,” Jake replied.
“Come on up, brother,” Carl said, laughing. He added, “It’s all right” to his people. “Bring your friend, but that’s all for now.
“It’s been a while, old friend,” he said, with a handshake and quick guy hug in the neutral zone.
“This is my friend, Lonnie,” Jake said.
“What brings you through here?” Carl asked.
“It’s a long story, perhaps better over a glass or two of Scotch, but we have a dog, a good dog that got attacked by some others, and I was hoping your dad was around to take a look at him.”
“My pops, he was a good man, but we laid him to rest a few years back.”
“I’m sorry. I know he was one of a kind, never missed a game,” replied Jake.
“Anyone around here who could take a look at the dog? We’ll pay a fair price for it.”
“No money needed, but I’ll take you up on that Scotch later.”
“Wait a minute?” asked Jake.
“I went to Ole Miss—full ride.”
“Yeah, I remember, but lost track of you after that,” replied Jake.
“I thought I might go pro until I blew a knee, and my dad helped me get through Veterinary school. I don’t drive all over the mountains like he did or get up on the bed with a lame animal, but I built a solid clinic—at least it was before…well, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Will you take a look at him? He’s a big boy, but everyone here counts on him for protection.”
“Sure. Where is he?”
“Back on the trailer.”
“Carl, it could be a trap,” came a voice from behind the barrier. “We can’t go with you; it’s protocol or some crap.”
“I’ve known this man since grade school. I’m fine; you guys just hang back until I return.”
Carl followed Jake and Lonnie back to the trailer and took a quick look at Ringo.
“Who glued him up?” Carl asked.
“That’s me,” Nancy replied, holding her hand in the air.
“Okay. All right… Great job.”
After a thorough onsite exam and questions of what happened, he pulled Nancy, Jake and me aside.
“He’s got a chance for sure, with some internal bleeding maybe, but I need to get him to my clinic right now. There’s room for your friends—if that’s
