She asked herself why she agreed to go with her boyfriend to watch their antics. Funny … she questioned herself like that more and more often lately. They did the type of stuff about which you generally shouldn’t speak.
A brisk Saturday afternoon seemed the perfect time for them to do it, and Howey found the most opportune place for the big blast. He was a buddy of her boyfriend, Dee, who dreamed up new – if not dangerous – ideas. The latest one may just have sprung from an ad in the back of Soldier of Fortune magazine.
They met Howey at an old suspension bridge in a pretty secluded part of the county out on Montague Hill off Highway M. A beautiful view of the valley spread out from the crest of the hill that suggested an early onset of Springtime regardless of the overcast day. Granted, the plans risked destroying some of the natural wonder there, but Howey took precautions to assure they were the only ones who would see it happen.
Howey’s behavior was circumspect out of necessity. Perhaps his “fun” wasn’t always legal, but he watched what he was doing. And he warned the others to do the same. They promised to not let the cat out of the bag, or C-4 as it were … the equivalent of a half-stick of dynamite.
That’s what he purchased and planned to set off just for shits and grins. Guys like to blow stuff to bits, which seems more of a fact than a stereotype. And their goal for the day.
Maybe Howey always wanted to join the military but couldn’t get in. He was a great big, burly guy without much smarts. All due respect to the men and women in green, how low could his ASVAB score have been? The printout probably said, “Don’t quit your day job.” He was the type who had a heart of gold if he knew a person but someone to avoid if he didn’t. The kind who thought he needed to secure a pistol in his waistband before going in the Alamo Lounge to buy beer on Sunday when blue laws kept the Git-n-Go from selling alcohol. In a time prior to Conceal and Carry permits. So kind of a rough customer.
He scoured the Army Surplus stores and went through his militia-wannabe friends to find stuff like C-4 to pass the time on an otherwise boring day. Residents out past Montague Hill might have thought there was an enemy invasion that day or that someone had finally leveled the old drive-in movie theater sitting empty long since closing it gates. That abandoned Snack Shack and all its graffiti might be gone now. But it was only some bored ruffians looking for a thrill.
No telling what the authorities found when they finally reported to the scene. Maybe just a huge hole of dirt blown out of the creek bank, at least if that was the point of impact. She couldn’t see it from where she sat, and the group didn’t wait around long enough to witness the after effects. Howey just lit the fuse and ran.
She was waiting with Dee in his decrepit Malibu idling aways down on the gravel shoulder. Howey didn’t usually have it in him to move very fast, but they saw his legs pumping that day. He yelled, “GO … GO!” as he jumped into the car.
The guys just giggled their asses off, and their ears rung for quite awhile afterward. No way could they hear any sirens that far out of town. Plenty of livestock were likely startled, the window glass in neighboring houses rattled, and most all the birds shaken from nearby trees.
*This little ditty was generated by the writing prompt speak at Studio 30 Plus.