Jules Hinton's Strange Trip: Chapter 9 by JCH and Kas  

        He slept late.  It was almost ten o’clock before he stumbled downstairs.  Sara and Mary were stringing green beans.
         “We were wondering if you were ever going to come down,” Mary said.  “Chief Ferguson has already called twice.  He wants you to come down to the station.  Something about letting them take your fingerprints so they can tell yours from the others in the car.”
         Jules looked at Sara.  “Your dad said you’d take me around town today.”
         “Yeah.  He told me before he left this morning.”
         “Why don’t you get something to eat, Jules.  Sara can take you wherever you need to go after that.”
         “I’m not much of a breakfast person.  Maybe we can catch a bite to eat later.  We’ve got a busy day today.  Don’t we, Sara?”

         “Where do you want to go first?” Sara asked as they pulled to a stop at the end of the road below Mary’s house.  “To see Ferguson?  Or get the gun?”
         “We should probably go to the station first so he’ll quit calling the house.  Though I’m not too sure what he can do for me.  I doubt I’ll ever see Nikki again.”  Alive, anyway, he thought.
         “Seems like you’ve had a bad couple of days.”
         “You don’t even known the half of it.”
         They went to the police station where a Texas state trooper fingerprinted Jules.  He didn’t stay long, though, and they were soon on their road to the outskirts of town.
         “There’s something you have to know about these guys.  They’re a little out there.  They’re the type of people who still give the finger to cars with government plates because of Waco.  So maybe you’d better let me do all of the talking.”
         “And your dad is friends with them?”
         “My dad is the leader of them.  But don’t hold that against him.  He’s not as psycho as some of them.  The guy you’re about to meet, for instance.”
         “Your dad has done too much for me to hold anything against him.  For that matter, so have you.”
         She pulled onto a long dirt driveway and drove another mile past a line of mobile homes and cars on blocks.  When they came what appeared to be the main trailer, they were met by two Great Danes.  Jules decided to stay in the car.  He was sure that either one of them could have easily eaten him alive.
         “Don’t you want to pick out the gun you want?  You wouldn’t believe the selection he’s got.”
         “I bet I would.”
         Just then, a man dressed in camouflage pants and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt with the sleeves cut out walked up to the driver’s side of the car.  Sara got out and held out her hand.  It was obvious to Jules that the man was hoping for more than a handshake.
         “Hey, baby.  Your old man said you’d be out this way today.  What can I do you for?”
         “Well, my friend here needs a gun.”  She stuck her head in the window.  “Jules, get out of the car.”  The dogs were standing on the other side of the car with Sara and the man, so Jules opened the door and stepped out.  He didn’t close the door, though.
         “Howard, this is Jules Hinton.  Dad and I found him near our cabin the other day before the tornadoes.  He’s got somebody after him and he needs protection.”
         Howard looked at Jules for a long minute with one eye almost shut.  “I think I’ve got just the one for you.  It was the first one I thought of when Dan called me.”  He reached to the small of his back and pulled out a handgun.  He unloaded the clip, then threw it over the car to Jules.  Jules held the gun in his hands, trying to get a feel for it.  He pointed it at the dogs, lining one of them up in the crosshair.
         “It’s a good gun,” Howard said.  “Fully automatic.  Fourteen in the clip.  One in the chamber.  A little recoil, but not much more than should be expected.  It’s illegal now after that damn Brady Bill went through Congress, but it’s a good gun.  The best thing about it is that you ain’t got to worry about it locking up on you.  It ain’t going to leave you in the lurch.  You can count on that.”
         “I need some ammo, too.  If you got it.”
         “If I got it?” he laughed.  “‘Course I got it.”
         “You’re a good man, Howard.  How much?”
         “How does five hundred sound to you?”
         “Not as good as three,” Sara cut in.  “Dad told me what he told you to charge him.”
         He grinned a toothless grin.  “You caught me.  Three hundred it is.”
         “I don’t have it on me.  I’ll have to go by an ATM.”
         “That’s all right.  Just give it to Dan when you see him.  Why don’t you come inside for the ammo?”  Jules and Sara walked with Howard to the trailer but did not go in.  A country music station was on in the background.  It took Howard only a moment to come back with two boxes of ammunition.  “If you want to, you can shoot some targets back in the fields.  I’ll keep the dogs up here with me.”
         “That sounds fine, Howard.  If that’s all right with you, Sara.”
         She agreed.
         “Can I ask you what you thought about the Oklahoma City bombing?”
         “No, you can’t,” Sara said, pulling Jules off the porch.
         But Jules couldn’t resist.  “You could, but you probably wouldn’t like what I had to say about it.”
         She led him toward the fields before Howard to question him further.

         Jules was surprised at how well he had handled the gun.  He had shot some with Tim and his step-father, but that had been years ago.  His mother never liked the idea of her son, whose father had been the victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound years before, to suddenly take up shooting them, even in the company of a man who knew guns and gun safety as well as his step-father did.
         He didn’t like the idea of having a gun too much either, even more since he actually had one.  But he didn’t think he had any other choice.  Besides, as Sara had told him, most of the time, if someone knows you have a gun, they’ll leave you alone.  He probably would never have to draw it on someone, much less fire it at them.
         They went back to the police station.  Ferguson was taking a coffee break.
         “I was about to call the house.  We found a lot of finger prints, but none that helped us out too much.  There is one thing though.  Your friend doesn’t exist.”
         “What are you talking about?”
         “Nikki Cauthen.  She died when she was twelve years old.  The only reason her prints is on file is because she was kidnapped as a child by her father, then turned up dead a few years later.  There was a messy divorce between the parents.  The mother got custody of the girl and he kidnapped her.  That was when she was real young, two or three years old.  She ran away from him when she was fourteen or fifteen and ended up dead.  There were some allegations by the mother that he molested the girl, but nothing was proven.  They found her body in New York a few years later.  Said she had started hooking like most of the runaways who go there thinking they’ll be the one out of the thousand who make it on their own.”
         “This is crazy!  Who is this girl that’s been calling herself Nikki?  It’s Nikki!  There must be some mistake in the computer somewhere, another Nikki or something.”
         “Another Nikki Cauthen with the same exact finger prints?” the cop asked.  “You’re probably right.  There’s probably some logical explanation to it.  Because she’s obviously Nikki Cauthen.  But it raises a lot of questions, don’t you think?  According to the N.Y.P.D., someone with her finger prints died twelve years ago.  But here she is now.  There may have been a mistake somewhere down the line just like you said, but it wasn’t made by us.”
         Jules sat down in a bench that was against the wall just inside the station.  It didn’t make sense.  No one had the same finger prints as someone else.  But maybe it answered some questions, like who was after her.  Maybe it was someone from her past, someone from New York.  No, that didn’t make sense.  It had been a long time since she was in New York.  Since she had been murdered there.
         Murdered.  Twelve years before he had ever met her.
         More likely, it was someone she had met on the road.  But hadn’t she mentioned that earlier?  Sure, she said something about meeting a lot of creeps, but...
         He had been suspicious of her from the start.  The way she had happened to be in the parking lot outside the diner.  And the roll of money he had found in her bags.  There were other things that didn’t make sense about Nikki.  But mostly, it had been a feeling he had had about her.  He had played it off as his own insecurities that someone who looked like she did would want to be with him.
         But none of it explained why she did want to be with him.  What could she have possibly gained from it other than the same thing he did?  Companionship.  They had both been lonely on the road.  But what had she ever told him about her life before she started hitching other than that she had been beaten before?  The truth, Jules thought, is that no matter who she is, she’s out there somewhere.  Who knew what she was being put through?  And, at the very least, he needed to get her stuff back to her, especially if the money was still there.
         “What about other prints?” Sara asked.  Jules had forgot to ask.
         “There weren’t any other than hers and yours.  It don’t necessarily mean no one was in the car.  If he was smart, he would’ve worn gloves.  Of course, we didn’t find evidence of that either.”

         The money was still there.  It was the first thing he did when he got back to Mary’s.  Forty crisp one hundred dollar bills.  For a brief moment, he allowed himself to wonder how she had got that money.  Not that it mattered.  The money was hers.  And he’d get it back to her.  He sat on the bed in the room he had slept the night before trying to come up with a plan.  Sticking around town wasn’t accomplishing anything.  Plus, if he was now a target, it wasn’t safe for Dan, Sara and Mary, though he had little doubt that Dan and Sara could handle themselves well under any circumstance.
         He decided to go over to the town where someone had spotted the man stealing the car.  See if it was him.  Maybe Nikki was there somewhere, in a hospital or something.  He had to keep moving, Jules told himself, if for no other reason than to do it.  And to keep safe.
 
         Ferguson let him have his car.  The State Police said there was no reason to keep it, there being no evidence in it.  Jules got the feeling they weren’t even sure if Nikki had been kidnapped, that maybe it was nothing more than a lover’s quarrel and she had left.  After being arrested for an armed robbery that he didn’t commit, Jules was a little relieved that he wasn’t charged with something more serious that he was also innocent of, like murder.  Nikki was missing, but to the police, it was as if she didn’t even exist.
         Dan and Sara had took Jules back to the police station the next day to get his car. Then, they saw him off.  He was going to look for her himself, he told them.  Dan gave Jules a list of phone numbers, people who he said would help Jules with whatever he needed, “Just because you know me.  Don’t hesitate to call on any of them.”
         They shook hands, then he climbed into the car and pulled off.  He made it to the next town in thirty minutes.  There was hardly any damage there, not like he had seen before.  He found the police station within five minutes.  The man behind the desk immediately reminded him of Detective O’Connor.  Jules told the man his story.
         “Yes, I remember that.  Let me see.”  He went through some papers on his desk.  “Yes.  Here it is.  An elderly man, George Dobson, was sitting in his car in the Walk-A-Mart  parking lot waiting for his wife when he saw a man break into a 1995 Mercury Mystique.  The description he gave my deputy matched the description of a man that came off the wire, the man you must have described to Jim Ferguson.”
         “And you never caught the man?”
         “Nope.  Didn’t find the car either.  We’ve got an APB out on it, but if he’s smart, he dumped it as soon as he could.  I wish I could be more help, but the truth is that I don’t think we’ll find this guy on this.  He’ll slip up somewhere though.  And he’ll be caught.”
         “What about Nikki?  Have you got an APB out on her?”
         “Jim Ferguson did that.  We did look for her and we still are.  We’ve got notices at the hospital here in town and in the surrounding towns.  If they had seen her, we would have been the first to know.”
         Jules sat on a park bench outside the police station.  What now?  Well, for one thing, he needed to find a motel.  He could use a shower and a few hours sleep before waking up early in the morning and figuring out what to do next.
 He stopped at the first motel he found, the same chain he and Nikki had stayed in when they first met, the night he collapsed on stage.  The first thing he did was to take a long, hot bath.  He got out, dried his hair and sat on the bed.  He was going to call Tim, but thought he’d lie down for a few minutes first.
 
         He woke up the next morning at almost eight o’clock.  It would be early to call him then, but he did anyway.  If Tim was working, he’d already be up.  If he had the day off, he probably would have just got in from one of his infamous nights out on the town with whatever young girl he was dating this week.
         “Jules, I’ve been worried about you,” he said.  “I was wondering if I should hop a plane and come out there.  The only problem was that I didn’t know where you were.”
         “What are you talking about?”
         “Your friend called me, Nikki.  She told me what happened.”
         “Nikki called you?  When?”
         “Last night.  She said she had got away from the guy who took her and was going back to look for you.”
         “Going back where?”
         “She didn’t say, but I guess back to where she last saw you.  She said the man left you on the side of the road, that she thought you might be dead.  What’s happening down there, Jules?  This is crazy.”
         “You’re right about that, bro.  How did she get your phone number?”
         “I didn’t ask.  I guess she called Information.  Or maybe you told her.  I don’t know.  But I think you need to get away from that girl.  I mean, is she really worth almost dying for?  Maybe you won’t be as lucky next time.”
         “I don’t want to have this conversation, Tim.  How’s your old man?  Come to think of it, how’s my mom?  Has she been around lately?”
         “No, but Dad is going up for the weekend.  They both want to see you, though.  Said it’s time for you to come back.”
         “They’re probably right about that.  But I have something to do first.”
         “You’re going back for her, aren’t you?”
         “I’ve got to.  I’ll call you soon.”
         “Jules, hold on...”
         “I’ve go to go, Tim.”  Jules placed the phone on the receiver and let out a deep breath.
 
         Jules locked the door and turned to walk down the hall.  He was going to get a bite to eat at the diner adjacent to the motel.  That was when he saw the guys--unkempt, dirty clothes, like they hadn’t got much sleep lately.  The taller of the two was wearing a Cowboys shirt.  The shorter man was wearing a tan corduroy shirt, something Jules thought looked right out of the 70s.  He eyed them cautiously as he walked toward the stairs.
         “You got the time, buddy?”
         Jules didn’t have a watch on.  “The weather channel on TV said it was a little before nine.”  He was about to walk off.
         “Got a light on ‘ya?” the other one asked.
         “Sorry.  Don’t smoke.”  As he walked away, he had the distinct feeling that the guys were watching him.  As he turned the corner to go down the stairs, he glanced back toward them.  Sure enough, they were watching him.
         He had forgotten about them by the time he had finished eating.  He went back his room, got his stuff, then left.  As he was getting into the car, they approached him again.
         “Can I help you?” he asked.
         “Yeah, I think you can,” Cowboy said.  He swung wildly at Jules, catching him square on the jaw, forcing him back onto the car.  Then, he grabbed him by the collar, pushing him further backwards onto the hood of the car.
         Jules wasn’t going to let this get out of hand anymore than it already had.  He didn’t have much room to move, but his legs were free.  He got a good kick upward that landed directly in Cowboy’s groin area.  He fell to his knees grabbing himself in some obvious pain.  The other guy, the smaller one, reached into his pocket and brought out a knife.  Jules found this oddly amusing.  Like it wasn’t really happening to him.  Until the guy went for him, swinging wildly and sinking the blade into Jules’ left arm.
         Jules looked at the knife sticking in his arm in the second before the man took it out.  He had been a kicker--though a second string kicker--on his high school football team and had played some soccer in the summer leagues as a young boy.  This had done him well a moment earlier, so he decided to use it again.  It took him two tries to kick the knife out of the guys hand.  Then, he dove on him, knocking him to the ground.
         Meanwhile, Cowboy had gathered his bearings and was going for the knife.  Jules knew now was the time.  He reached under his shirt and brought out the gun.  He pointed it at Cowboy, stopping the man dead in his tracks.
         “Get on the ground!  Get on the ground!"  Jules was surprised at the strength of his own voice.  He was practically yelling, so much that he looked around him briefly to see if anyone had seen what had taken place in the last few moments.  “Face first.  And drop the knife.”
         The guy seemed shocked that someone was pointing a gun at him that the knife fell out of his hands.  He was noticeably shaken, but did exactly what Jules had said.  Jules stood up, alternately pointing the gun at either of the men, and went for the knife.  He picked up his bags, then got in the car and sped off.  It was only then that he realized the gun had been unloaded the whole time; the clip was in his pocket.  He reached into his jeans, got the clip, then loaded it into the gun.
         He was a mile down the road before he realized that his arm was bleeding profusely.  He pulled off the road, and reached for his bags.  He retrieved a shirt, tore it in half, then wrapped it around his arm.  Then he pulled back onto the road, headed toward Smithee.  Even though he was putting pressure on the arm, he was already feeling a little faint-headed.
 

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