Quill's black silhouette stood on the barren island of cement, breathing heavy steam into the orange-lit fortress of the interchange, his eyes fixed on the shape of the state of Texas embossed into the sloping embankment of the bridge reaching over the glistening comet tail of traffic. The roar of the comet reverberated across the concrete and steel like flying beasts in waves of swooping chase. Hatchet's voice piped though the earphone in his left ear to check their connection. He gifted Quill a few words of encouragement even though he knew by now that Quill needed no pep talk. After Quill's performance on the phone with Brody Lassiter's office and Timothy Allen Teague's secretaries earlier in the day, Hatchet had come to the welcome conclusion that the young man's need for approval made up for his lack of intelligence. Hatchet fed him his lines and the ventriloquism ensued.
Peering through his camera set on a bush smothered knoll approximately a hundred and fifty yards to Quill's rear, Hatchet could see any car approaching from all directions including the ramp emptying a river of paired headlights onto the main highway less than a hundred feet ahead of Quill's position. A knife-edge of the wind gusted over the raised highway around him, its speed increasing as it made the leap and it shook the bushes in a hissing fit of scaly coniferous leaves that forced constant refitting of the earpiece connected by wire to his phone. He checked the worsening sky as two cloud edges, the color of the freeway lights setting them aglow, met in tectonic semblance, dousing the few visible stars. Hatchet's anxiety peaked as any car slowed near Quill's shadow and he tried to reassure himself the youngster had the patience to go the distance. He looked at his watch to find both their marks late. Hang in there, Quill, he told him, they'll show. I aint worried. Hatchet had sudden imaginings of him losing his judgment and attacking Teague once he came within arm’s length but he relaxed and resolved to let things happen, however, he still couldn't resist giving Quill a quick, Hang in there; stay calm.
At fifteen minutes past the appointed hour, a large black Suburban like the ones used to convoy Calvary Fellowship's cash to the bank entered from the north and slowed as it approached Quill and crossed the white line designating the shoulder. It eased past Quill and the tires crept rhino-like over the curb and came to a stop halfway between him and the hurried traffic entering the flow from the ramp, the entire vehicle on the island, red from the brake lights pouring across the cement like photon particulate from a laser. That's Lassiter, Hatchet told Quill, if anyone else gets out besides him, you tell them to get back in the truck or you're leaving. Got it. The vehicle sat motionless for a few moments until the preacher emerged in a long wool coat and scarf, unaccustomed to cold and violent air. Two Guardians in similar dress piled out of the rear doors as well and they began traversing the distance as one dark six-legged creature but Quill called out, No! just the old man! We had an agreement I could bring my protection! Hatchet coached Quill, They have to stay in the car. They gotta stay there! Or you'll leave, Hatchet told him. Or I leave!
Lassiter turned his back to Quill and discussed the situation with his bodyguards who soon backpedaled to the vehicle and stood at the ready, a few tense words traded between them. No! Quill yelled, they get back in the truck! Good work, Hatchet told him. Oh come on, boy! Lassiter responded, I have to have some assurances here! Or I fuckin leave, old man! Lassiter swiveled in waddling penguin steps, twirled his gloved finger in the air and the two Guardians disappeared into the armored truck. Lassiter made the distance alone, coming to rest just out of reach of Quill's massive arms and seemed to marvel at the young man's size while Quill smiled at the old man's shape and his resemblance to a beetle in the turgid coat. Who are you? he asked Quill. Don't say another word until Teague shows, Hatchet told him. Quill told Lassiter they were to wait for Teague. Good luck with that, boy, Lassiter said, not even I've been able to get that bastard to meet me in months. Not another word, Hatchet told him.
This is a pretty stupid spot for a meeting like this, Lassiter said, a cop might drive by and get curious. Quill just flashed him his dumb grin and they stood there in the cold, the wind fussing with Brody Lassiter's oiled hair. Hatchet checked the time again. Teague was nearly thirty minutes late. Then he scanned the bridges and ramps for more Guardians and more guns.
So you're the one who stole my money? Lassiter said. Quill laughed under his breath. You think you're pretty smart huh? Lassiter continued. Don't say a word to that bastard, Hatchet told him. You've caused me a lot of trouble, boy; I could have you shot right now; my men in the truck back there feel awfully embarrassed about the whole thing and would love to take you out right now. He made a gun with his finger and thumb and said, Pop; just like that. You don't scare me, old man, Quill said. Stop it, Hatchet said. I bet I do, Lassiter edged a little closer. You do anything, Quill, Hatchet pleaded, and this whole thing is over. Quill glanced over Lassiter's shoulder at the running Suburban but kept his mouth shut. Where's my egg? the preacher urged. Tell him nothing happens till Teague gets here. Quill spat onto the concrete. Nothing happens till Tim shows up. Hatchet watched Brody Lassiter shrug through the camera lens.
Peering through his camera set on a bush smothered knoll approximately a hundred and fifty yards to Quill's rear, Hatchet could see any car approaching from all directions including the ramp emptying a river of paired headlights onto the main highway less than a hundred feet ahead of Quill's position. A knife-edge of the wind gusted over the raised highway around him, its speed increasing as it made the leap and it shook the bushes in a hissing fit of scaly coniferous leaves that forced constant refitting of the earpiece connected by wire to his phone. He checked the worsening sky as two cloud edges, the color of the freeway lights setting them aglow, met in tectonic semblance, dousing the few visible stars. Hatchet's anxiety peaked as any car slowed near Quill's shadow and he tried to reassure himself the youngster had the patience to go the distance. He looked at his watch to find both their marks late. Hang in there, Quill, he told him, they'll show. I aint worried. Hatchet had sudden imaginings of him losing his judgment and attacking Teague once he came within arm’s length but he relaxed and resolved to let things happen, however, he still couldn't resist giving Quill a quick, Hang in there; stay calm.
At fifteen minutes past the appointed hour, a large black Suburban like the ones used to convoy Calvary Fellowship's cash to the bank entered from the north and slowed as it approached Quill and crossed the white line designating the shoulder. It eased past Quill and the tires crept rhino-like over the curb and came to a stop halfway between him and the hurried traffic entering the flow from the ramp, the entire vehicle on the island, red from the brake lights pouring across the cement like photon particulate from a laser. That's Lassiter, Hatchet told Quill, if anyone else gets out besides him, you tell them to get back in the truck or you're leaving. Got it. The vehicle sat motionless for a few moments until the preacher emerged in a long wool coat and scarf, unaccustomed to cold and violent air. Two Guardians in similar dress piled out of the rear doors as well and they began traversing the distance as one dark six-legged creature but Quill called out, No! just the old man! We had an agreement I could bring my protection! Hatchet coached Quill, They have to stay in the car. They gotta stay there! Or you'll leave, Hatchet told him. Or I leave!
Lassiter turned his back to Quill and discussed the situation with his bodyguards who soon backpedaled to the vehicle and stood at the ready, a few tense words traded between them. No! Quill yelled, they get back in the truck! Good work, Hatchet told him. Oh come on, boy! Lassiter responded, I have to have some assurances here! Or I fuckin leave, old man! Lassiter swiveled in waddling penguin steps, twirled his gloved finger in the air and the two Guardians disappeared into the armored truck. Lassiter made the distance alone, coming to rest just out of reach of Quill's massive arms and seemed to marvel at the young man's size while Quill smiled at the old man's shape and his resemblance to a beetle in the turgid coat. Who are you? he asked Quill. Don't say another word until Teague shows, Hatchet told him. Quill told Lassiter they were to wait for Teague. Good luck with that, boy, Lassiter said, not even I've been able to get that bastard to meet me in months. Not another word, Hatchet told him.
This is a pretty stupid spot for a meeting like this, Lassiter said, a cop might drive by and get curious. Quill just flashed him his dumb grin and they stood there in the cold, the wind fussing with Brody Lassiter's oiled hair. Hatchet checked the time again. Teague was nearly thirty minutes late. Then he scanned the bridges and ramps for more Guardians and more guns.
So you're the one who stole my money? Lassiter said. Quill laughed under his breath. You think you're pretty smart huh? Lassiter continued. Don't say a word to that bastard, Hatchet told him. You've caused me a lot of trouble, boy; I could have you shot right now; my men in the truck back there feel awfully embarrassed about the whole thing and would love to take you out right now. He made a gun with his finger and thumb and said, Pop; just like that. You don't scare me, old man, Quill said. Stop it, Hatchet said. I bet I do, Lassiter edged a little closer. You do anything, Quill, Hatchet pleaded, and this whole thing is over. Quill glanced over Lassiter's shoulder at the running Suburban but kept his mouth shut. Where's my egg? the preacher urged. Tell him nothing happens till Teague gets here. Quill spat onto the concrete. Nothing happens till Tim shows up. Hatchet watched Brody Lassiter shrug through the camera lens.
Edit 1.3.2019