Nubbin but Trouble (4 page)

Bank robbers?

Another customer chimed in. “Yeah, I heard that too. Some bank got robbed in Nebraska and there's some kind of manhunt going on out that way. The police have roadblocks up all throughout Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, and South Dakota. Be careful, whatever you do.”

Great! Now I have to worry about some armed bandits finding Nubbin before I did!

I checked my watch and calculated how many hours it would be until I was anywhere near Nebraska. I had plenty of time. By the time I crossed several state lines, those so-called robbers would be long gone. I just hoped they would have bypassed my wayward friend.

“Here we go, Barney. Let's hit the road.” I adjusted the mirror and looked back to check to see if he wanted to get out of the cage yet. He didn't flinch. Sometimes hanging out with him was like being alone. No conversation. No interaction. Just me, alone with my thoughts that sometimes found their way out of my mouth and often remained locked in my brain for only me to enjoy. I loved those kind of thoughts.

I reached in my bag to grab my phone before driving off. It was gone. I checked again and still didn't see it.

“Alright, when was the last time I saw it?” I asked myself.

I mentally retraced my steps, seeing it in my hand at the car rental place and sitting on top of my kitchen table when I went back to retrieve my bags and Barney.

“Where is it, Mercy? Where is it?” I asked myself as I dumped the contents of my purse out on the seat and began a frantic search of every nook and cranny of the rental car.

After fifteen minutes of searching everywhere I could think of, including going into the truck stop twice to look around, I still hadn't found it.

Barney finally woke up from his two-hour long slumber and barked. He was ready to go for a walk and I was panicking.

What could have happened to my phone?

I took Barney out of the cage, searched it. Still nothing. As he tended to his business, I climbed into the trunk of the car (Not the smartest idea, but I was desperate.) to search in there again. The bearded trucker walked past, noticed me and asked, “Are you alright there, ma'am?”

Considering my hind quarters were saluting the sun, I'd say that no, I wasn't fine, but since I didn't think all three hundreds pounds of him would appreciate any lip from me, I refrained from saying anything sarcastic.

“Yes, I'm just looking for something.” I smiled as if all was okay.

“Oh, well, I'm glad you're still here because I just heard a report on the radio that State Troopers found some human remains at the western Nebraska border. Sounds like those bank robbers just upped the ante.” He said, chuckling and walking away.

Human remains? Nubbin!

              “There, that wasn't so bad, was it, Barney?” I asked between panting and swallowing my heart that took one giant leap into my throat as we crossed under the bridge in between Loveland and Fort Collins, Colorado. Except for the miles of water covered roads and the occasional hydroplaning vehicle, the trip went pretty well, I thought.

“We just have a little less than two hours left and we'll be home free,” I announced to my sleeping dog. He was proof that a dog could sleep through most anything, if they really put their mind to it.

I white-knuckled my way down the long stretch of road. They say that Colorado is beautiful and, I'm sure it is, but I was beginning to get the feeling that Mother Nature had no intention of letting me see that for myself.

Every time I'd traversed through this so-called lovely state, there was some major storm or another, ravaging large portions of it. And, call me fickle, but my idea of sightseeing and enjoying nature, had nothing to do with trying to outrun massive boulders or seeking shelter from snowstorms, tornadoes, or torrential rain.

Traffic was moving at a snail's pace. The two hours ahead of me would probably stretch to somewhere around four or five hours. It was bad enough that my fourteen hour trip had already eaten up twenty-four hours of my life. Mind you, that's time I'll never get back and, considering my questionable eating habits and lack of quality, sustained exercise, I needed every moment I could get. To do what with? Who knew! But, whatever it was would sure be fun – at the time.

The steering wheel fought me as I continued down the highway. I couldn't see anything beyond the vehicle in front of me, by this point.

Now, I was no expert driver, but I'd been driving long enough to know that one shouldn't drive with their foot on the brake. I just wished someone had told the poor sap in front of me that. For the last hour or so, he'd been leading the pack and, on more than one occasion, he'd come dangerously close to driving us all right off of I-25 and into a ditch, but who was I to judge?

“What do you say, I pull over, old boy?” I asked after the driver behind me – a highway patrolman, I might add – nearly took a chunk out of the back of my car.

Yeah, this isn't going to work
, I thought.
It is high time that I took a break.

I inched my way to an exit ramp and into town – what town, I didn't know, but I'd soon find out. The last few stops, it felt like I'd landed in ghost towns. (Oh, don't get me started about ghosts!)

Thankfully, this town wasn't deserted. A big box store, sat just adjacent to the off ramp. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Look, they're alive, Barney.” I said. “They are probably having a flood sale. If I knew how to swim, I'd stop and see what they had for sale.”

Barney stirred for a moment, but not enough to disturb his near-constant slumber.
What a life!

A neon sign caught my attention on the opposite side of the road.
Dinner!

I immediately pulled into the parking lot, being careful not to totally immerse the car in water, if I could help it.

“Barney, I found food. This diner is open twenty-four hours. Are you hungry, boy?” I was so excited. Barney had plenty of food to keep him satisfied, hence, all the sleeping, but I hadn't eaten since Utah and I was starving.

Barney opened his eyes ever so slightly when I got out of the car and reached into the back seat to check on him. Just as soon as he opened up his eyes completely, he quickly closed them and nodded back off, snoring in my face.

“C'mon, Barney. Let's get out and let you stretch those little legs of yours,” I said, but I was thinking,
C'mon, Barney, I'm starving and tired. You know, I was driving while you dozed the last day away.

The smell of grease and chicken wafted through the air, almost covering the smell of standing water. My stomach growled loudly in response, so loud that Barney lurched up and ran out of his cage, barking.

“Now, you're awake? You couldn't have woken up twelve pounds ago. I figured that I'd lost somewhere near fifteen pounds due to a combination of stress, perspiring in fear, and lack of proper nutrition. At this rate, I'd be ready to join the pageant circuit before I knew it.

After a short jaunt through about two inches of standing rain, Barney had his fill of exercise for the day. I'd fed him and he was ready for another round of slumbering. As for myself, I was just about ready to chew my own arm off; I was so hungry.

As soon as Barney was safely secured, high atop a bench, directly in front of the small diner, I ran in and ordered everything on the menu. A small, elderly gentleman behind the counter didn't flinch. Obviously, there must have been something wrong with both his ears and his eyes for him not to notice the waif like figure, begging for a morsel of bread and some water – the drinking kind, that is.

I cleared my throat, but I wasn't sure if he could hear me over the sound of my stomach growling again. And that growl was something ugly, let me tell you.

His eyes remained glued to the television screen, hanging above the pass through window in between the counter and the cook, who was just as enthralled with whatever was happening on the television that he didn't seem to notice me either.

“Hello?” I tapped the counter top.

Neither gentlemen moved.

I spun around. In my haste, I hadn't noticed whether or not there were any other patrons in this fine established, equipped with a jukebox, three booths, and an assortment of bar stools.

“You are open, aren't you? That's what the sign says.” I said a little louder.

The cook looked at me, did a once over to admire my wrinkled T-shirt and Capri pants, then, turned his attention back to the television.

“If that's what the sign says, then I guess we are,” the gentleman nearer to me said, his back still facing me.

I sighed. I didn't have time for this. I realized that the apocalypse had hit their state, but I was desperate. I was starving and I had a friend that was missing. The least they could do was tend to my immediate need before I collapsed from malnutrition, then, they could send me on my way. After all, wasn't that their job?

My stomach begged me to go into that kitchen myself and whip up an omelette and bacon, but luckily, the rational part of my brain spoke louder and warned me that I'd probably not find another open eating establishment within the next few hours and I'd surely faint somewhere on the road.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but I've been on the road for a little over twenty-four hours. I've survived on candy bars and coffee and, quite honestly, I'm dying for a good cheeseburger or two.” I pretended to be joking, but on the inside, I could practically taste the cheeseburger already. I started to salivate. At least, I wasn't dehydrated yet.

The old man turned around to face me. The front of his hat said: Mack's Grill. I took a chance and assumed that he was Mack.

“I've heard great things about this diner. Why don't you give me that house special I've heard so much about and we'll call it good?” I flashed him a smile, but he didn't bite.

He looked out the window at my sleeping Pug and asked, “Is that your dog?”

What? I don't have time for small talk. I'm starving here, Mr. Diner Owner.

“Yes, that's my dog. I hope it's okay that he's there. I didn't want to leave him in the car.” I explained.

“Well, don't just stand there,” Mack scolded me. “Go get him. He'll drown out there.”

He walked around the counter and to the front door, whistling for Barney to get up. It was such a nice gesture, for a moment, I forgot how famished I was.

“Jimbo, get him something to eat and bring some water.” Mack ordered the cook. Remembering that I was still there, he added, “And get her something. She looks like she could use a bite.”

I could kiss him! I could, but I won't.

The cook went to work quickly, getting something for Barney to eat and a bowl of water. He walked out from behind a set of swinging doors and placed the bowls down on the floor in front of Barney. “Don't worry. That's tap water. Who knows what all this flooding will do with the tap water! What are you doing out in this weather anyway?”

I answered as I watched Barney become suddenly awake and animated. He devoured the contents of the bowl and even let Mack pet him like they were old pals.

“We're heading to Nebraska to locate a friend.” I explained.

Mack and Jimbo exchanged glances. Mack asked, “In this? You should have checked the weather before you left home. Where is home for you?”

“California. I live in a little sleepy town named Lake Villa, where everyone practically knows everyone else in town, except for the few people that live in the mega mansions on the outskirts of town. Very few of us ever get to mingle with the likes of them, unless we're employed by them in some capacity.” I just loved my little town, so much so that I could talk about it forever.

Mack didn't seem so amused. He turned his head back to the television as I spoke.

I looked up at the screen to see what was so interesting. “Are you watching the weather report?” I asked.

Mack turned up the volume. “That and all the other stuff going on around here.”

I looked up at the screen again. The reporter finished her report, stating that the station would keep viewers updated.

“What is she talking about?” I asked.

Mack bent down to pet Mack again. “People have gone crazy. Storms will make you do desperate things, I guess, but I've never been that desperate. Thank the stars.”

I still didn't understand. “What are people doing that has the local media riled up?” I asked.

Jimbo came out of the kitchen again with a platter of food for me. I almost cried at the sight of it. Completing forgetting my manners, I grabbed a fork and started eating. I didn't even bother to sit down. I needed food.

Mack and Jimbo both took a seat at the counter while I ate.

Mack said, “There's bank robbers running loose. The news claims that they kidnapped some old guy and are heading our way, but I don't see that as a wise plan. We have all this flooding and Nebraska, where they are supposedly coming from, got hit with a major snowstorm yesterday. Plus, there's some report about the coyotes going wild. It's that time of year for them. They start acting up every year this time.”

I swallowed a mouthful of food, without bothering to chew it.
Did he say that the bank robbers kidnapped an old man?

“What were you saying about bank robbers?” I pretended like I hadn't heard him correctly.

Mack and Jimbo exchanged glances again.

Jimbo shrugged, then Mack spoke. “Some fellows with guns, robbed a bank and who knows what other damage they did, then they took off, right in the middle of that snowstorm. The police out that way are few and far between, so that and the fact that the roads are probably a mess, made it difficult for anyone to catch up to them. I guess some farmer claimed to have seen them near his farm and said that they were dragging a man into their getaway car.”

I started to shake. “Nubbin,” I whimpered.

Jimbo said, “Yeah, that's what the reporter was saying. Something about some old guy by the name of Nubbin, who went missing from an old folk's home. The sheriff over there thinks it was him that they kidnapped. Did you hear about that too?”

I dropped my fork on the floor. “Did they say the name Nubbin?” I asked, my voice shaking with fear. I moved only inches from Jimbo's face, the pungent smell of grease and cigars nearly overcoming me. “Where did you hear that name?”

He backed away, surprised by my reaction. “Uh, they said it on the news. How else would I know that name? Why? Do you know him?”