“What are you planning with plastic explosives, Ness?” Wyatt asked, putting his pack on the ground.
“I want to place it inside the cabin. Eddie will most likely go in there at some point and having the armed weapon ready to explode when he walks in will be the most effective way to do it.”
“It’s a bit too quick for my liking,” Wyatt admitted.
“I know, but he’s dangerous—if we can eliminate him without having to physically engage with him, then it will be safer for us.”
“Agreed,” Wyatt said. “Start pitching camp. I’ll head down into the cabin and set the charges.” Wyatt took the explosives out of his pack and walked downhill. He looked back and noticed that Ness really had chosen a good vantage point from up there. It was several hundred yards away, and it’s difficult to see when you’re looking up. Wyatt turned and walked into the cabin. The smell of dried blood assaulted his nose, and he instantly felt nauseous. He tried not to look around and opted to place the explosives underneath the small table next to the front door. If they saw Eddie open the door, a simple ‘press of a button’ would incinerate him. Wyatt started packing the explosives into the bottom of the table.
“This certainly is a lot. I think it will do a lot more than just incinerate him, I think it might actually level the entire cabin. Sorry, Gramps—it’s for a worthy cause,” Wyatt said out loud. Once he was finished activating the detonating pins, he closed the door of the cabin and started hiking back up to the vantage point. It was certainly much more difficult coming up this way round then it was from the side that Ness suggested. Eventually, he made it back and saw that Ness had managed to pitch the small tent by herself, and kept it expertly hidden from view between two large boulders.
“Looks good, Ness. So, how long do you think our provisions will hold out?” Wyatt asked.
“We have about enough for two or three days. Fortunately, we can get water straight from the creek, but I think this is going to go down long before then. I’m going to get a few hours of shut-eye now, so you can sleep later on. I think it’s important that we sleep in shifts.”
“Yeah, that would be wise,” Wyatt said, grabbing the rifle and installing the scope onto it. Ness smiled at her brother—she was very glad that he didn’t listen to her earlier on and came with her.
25
Eddie pulled in at a small diner just outside of Chicago. He had gone through a lot of trouble the night before, but he eventually got what he wanted. Now, he was tired, he was hungry, and he was filling up with rage. Eddie knew that when he was like this and pushing himself so hard, it was far more difficult to control his emotions. Being volatile when you’re so prone to violence is dangerous. Because he wanted to stay out of trouble as best as he could, he opted to take a table close to the back of the diner and waited for the waitress to come over.
“What can I get ya darlin’?” The blonde—probably close to 40 years old—waitress asked with her notebook and pen in her hand. She chewed a piece of gum like a cow chews the cud, and the more Eddie watched, the more he wanted to take the pen she was holding and shove it through her eye. He took a deep breath.
“I’ll just have the breakfast special with a black coffee, thanks,” he said almost robotically.
“How would you like your eggs?” she chewed even louder. Eddie gritted his teeth and clenched so hard that his jaw hurt. “It doesn’t matter, just surprise me.”
“Okey dokey, darlin’.” She said and walked away.
“Fuck me: this is going to be much harder than I thought. Just keep it together Eddie. You have your targets. Don’t let anything distract you from your targets,” he whispered to himself.
“Hey faggot! Are you crazy or somethin’?” Why you out there talkin’ to yourself?” the overweight trucker shouted from his booth. Are you kidding me? Ignore him, Eddie. He’s not worth it. Just breathe.
“Hey faggot! I’m talkin’ to you,” the trucker shouted again, but Eddie just continued to stare at the table. The waitress brought Eddie his coffee and laid it on the table, “Pay no attention to him, darlin’. He’s a few quarters short of a jukebox if you catch my drift.”
“Thank you for the coffee.” Eddie said quietly. He took a sip of the bitter liquid, and it seemed to calm his senses fractionally.
“Now you’re disrespecting me by ignoring me, faggot?” the trucker said as he walked over to Eddie’s table, leaned over his coffee, and spat into it. Eddie’s jaw clenched, and he looked up and stared into the eyes of the neanderthal. “Sorry, I fall asleep with my eyes open sometimes. It’s a medical condition,” Eddie smiled.
“Whatever, faggot,” he said, walking toward the bathrooms at the back of the diner. Eddie scanned the place and there were no other patrons around, and the waitress was nowhere to be seen—probably stepped out for a smoke. “It’s like the universe is just willing you to die,” Eddie whispered as he watched the trucker go into the bathroom. Eddie rose from the table and followed him in.
The trucker was standing at the urinal, whistling as he relieved himself. Eddie walked up quietly behind him and forcefully pushed his head into the wall in front of him. The trucker’s head made a loud crack as it hit the tiled wall, and
