Victory Tour (Part 221) (Patreon)

The parking lot at Lineshack was all but deserted when we pulled in. Made sense. We were in that dead time between lunch and dinner. At least we'd have plenty of seating available.

Bud stepped out to the pit as seven vehicles unloaded and was explaining how things operated around here just in case there were any first-timers. Imagine my surprise that there actually were a couple. They were among the crew that followed Gen. Rackham and the Johnsons this morning.

I felt the need to tell them it wasn't usually so eventful out here in the country. Today was, I dearly hoped, an anomaly.

"Sure, kid," one of them grinned. "We just wanted to see if what we've heard about ya is true."

I wasn't about to ask what they'd heard. I had enough people yanking my chain.

We made our selections — I tried to keep things light in anticipation of eating again in just a few hours on my date — and I followed the rest inside. To be greeted by an ear-splitting squeal.

"Omigod! Gary! It's about time you came back to see me!" Bonnie, the Cedar Springs head cheerleader, cried as she and her rather impressive rack came bouncing out from behind the counter. "C'mere and lemme hug your neck, boy. It's sooo good to see you again!"

"Holy shit!" one of the new guys gasped with what some might call a touch of awe in his voice as Bonnie created two more dents in my body. "It's true!"

"Is that 11 or 16?" Sarge smirked.

Get over it, guys, I thought. She's just a girl I know saying hello.

"Hey, Bonnie," I grinned goofily at the memory of our dalliance at the Sadie Hawkins Dance. "Didn't know you worked here."

"Just whenever Uncle Bud needs me to cover for one of the regular hands," she said, maintaining bodily contact. "I might pick up a few more hours in the spring, but cheerleadin's takin' up a lotta time right now. We've actually got an outside chance at makin' the playoffs! So, what brings you to town?"

"Uh, we just bought some property near here and were checkin' things out," I said.

"You missed all the fun this mornin,'" Bonnie said as she continued to press against me. "Somebody bombed Billy Ray's house and the sheriff got hauled off by the DEA! Serves the creepy bastard right. He don't have J.W.'s money to bail his sorry ass out now. My Aunt Joyce said some rich fellas didn't blink at offerin' over the askin' price for J.W.'s place last week. She thought they musta heard the stories about J.W. havin' buried treasure out there."

I hadn't, but that didn't mean George Patterson didn't have any inside info. I guess you could call part of what we found buried. It certainly qualified as treasure.

"And who's this pretty young lady?" Grandpa asked, causing Bonnie to blush but not release her grip on me.

"Grandpa, this is Bonnie ..." I started before realizing I didn't know the girl's last name.

"McMasters," Bonnie said, daintily extending a hand. "Gary's saved me from my ex-boyfriend a couple of times this fall."

"Bonnie's the head cheerleader at Cedar Springs High," I explained. "Bonnie, this is my grandfather, Hal Robinson. He farms out in Buchanan County."

In addition to his other endeavors.

"Your aunt is Joyce?" Grandpa asked. "She's the one who handled the deal we closed this week."

You could practically see the light bulb go on over Bonnie's head. She might be rural, but that didn't mean she was stupid.

"Wait, you're the rich fellas?" she asked in astonishment, looking back and forth between us. "Aunt Joyce only closed one sale this week. I can't believe we're gonna be neighbors!"

The last bit had her bouncing on the balls of her feet, causing those boobs to do some incredible things.

"Not anytime soon," I said. "It'll take a few months to get a new house built."

"You'll just have to come stay with me, then," Bonnie grinned wolfishly, pressing her tits into me again.

"I wasn't really planning on being a fulltime resident," I said. "Maybe an occasional weekender. It's more of an investment than anything. We'll probably end up leasing to someone who wants to farm it or graze cattle."

"I'll tell Daddy," she said. "Our place is just around the next bend in the road. We even share a fence line on our back 160."

Grandpa eventually convinced Bonnie to take his money. It took the better part of three Franklins to feed us all, which was actually pretty cheap considering how many guys had at least half a pound of meat on their trays. And they all had to get a cobbler or slice of pie to go with it.

By now, the security guys had already claimed seats at various strategically placed tables and were digging in. The four who were heading back to the 320 had a large sack to deliver to those who'd stayed behind.

I tried to excuse myself to join my relatives, Mr. Patterson, Mr. Richards, Dr. Ensberry and Gen. Rackham at a table. Bonnie decided to come with since there were no other customers needing her attention.

Some may have found the way she kept chattering about having me for a neighbor somewhat annoying, but it kept anyone in our party from mentioning what we'd found out on the 320. It also kept them from giving me any shit about the way she hung on me as we ate. For a little while, anyway.

Bonnie also had to update me on the Cedar Springs football season. They were 3-6 overall, 1-3 in district and in a three-way tie for fourth place in a six-team district with one game to go. The three had gone 1-1 head-to-head and were all playing a top-three team next week. If they remained tied after that, the last playoff spot would be decided by the point spreads from their head-to-head meetings, which did not favor Cedar Springs.

Cedar Springs could clinch with a win over the team currently in third place. They'd both lost to the top two teams by similar margins. If a minor miracle occurred, it would be Cedar Springs' first trip to the playoffs in more than 20 years. None of the current players had even been alive the last time it happened.

"And I've been keepin' up with the Mighty Blue, too," she cooed in my ear. "I was so excited when I heard about you playin' quarterback those two games. Coach Hollister said we'd have already clinched if we had somebody like you out here."

I could only imagine how poor the level of play was in Cedar Springs' district for that to be possible. At least he hadn't claimed I could deliver them a district championship.

All too soon, we finished our meals and prepared to leave. Bonnie had to give me one last hug and make sure I had her home and cell numbers. Against my better judgment, I gave her my cell number.

"We'd better be going, young man," Mr. Patterson said just loud enough for Bonnie — and everyone else in this part of the county — to hear. "I believe Staci expects you to pick her up at 7."

"Staci the cheerleader?" Bonnie asked perkily. "Tell her I said hi. We need to get together again one of these days. What's the next dance y'all are havin'?"

"Winter Formal in February, I think," I said.

"We might have one if we make the playoffs," she said. "We'd have to have it in the gym if we do, though. The ag barn's full of animals now."

"Well, cheer hard for ’em," I grinned. "That might make the difference."

We headed out to the row of SUVs as Bonnie began cleaning up after us. I made sure to drop a Hamilton into the tip jar for her. It looked like it'd been a pretty quiet day today. I'd either have to hit an ATM or use my debit card to feed Staci and Sherry tonight, though. But it's not like I can't afford it now.

Once outside, the whole gang gathered ’round to hassle me about Bonnie.

"How'd you meet that girl?" Dad started off.

"She's the one I was dancing with when Billy Ray Harkrider attacked," I said. "Both at the dance out here and the Sadie Hawkins Dance back home."

"She's the damsel he rescued," Mr. Patterson snorted. "I was there both times. I think she still wants to give him the hero's reward. Gary being a neighbor now just improves her chances."

"Does Morgan know about her?" Dr. Ensberry asked with narrowed eyes.

"They all know about her," I said. "Figured it was better to admit what happened than try to deny anything and have them find out later."

"And what happened?" Gen. Rackham asked.

"What do you think?" I snorted. "I fucked her silly, OK?"

That drew more than a few laughs from the security guys and frowns from Dad and Dr. Ensberry. They'd just have to get over it. I'd told them both more than once that I'd never forced a girl to do anything. Let them say no to a girl with tits like that when she tells you you're about to get lucky.

"Looks like she's ready for a return match," the general grunted, getting a few more laughs.

It was decided I'd ride with the G Squad — Grandpa, George and the general — with Marvin Johnson driving. Dad and his other golfing buddies would ride with Buck. I hope no one got sick.

I was squeezed into the center seat in back between Grandpa and George and we led the caravan heading out of town on the state highway.

"We're going to have to make some special arrangements," the general said from the shotgun seat as we reached the city limits sign. "It'll take at least two dozen herkie birds to get that much gold to Zurich. I'm not sure we can keep the feds at bay that long."

"What about the weapons?" Grandpa asked.

"That we might be able to handle in two flights," the general said. "The big question there is the weight of the crates of ammunition. That could require another bird or two."

"Can we find a secure location to hold the gold?" Mr. Patterson asked.

"Probably not one any more secure than where it currently is," the general said. "My concern there is federal agents coming around, which they will if anyone notices Chinooks flying in and out around the clock."

"Just tell ’em they'd better have a warrant," Grandpa grunted. "Maybe we oughta redo that cement patch once the guns are moved. Get some heaters and fans in there to dry it out so it doesn't look so fresh."

"It would also be cheaper to send it by sea," Mr. Patterson mused. "I could make arrangements for a freighter at one of the ports on the Gulf and truck it down there while the feds are looking up in the sky for more helicopters."

"We'd better get that road built first," Grandpa said. "That'd speed things up considerably when it comes to gettin' trucks in and outta there.

"Then we'll have to figure weight limits into things. One of those trailers with two axles can legally carry about 34,000 pounds on the highways, so that'd be more than 30 loads. Feds would notice that much traffic comin' and goin' out there."

"What about getting permitted for oversized loads?" I asked. "I've seen those rigs with, like, six or eight axles transport things like compressors for natural gas plants before."

Three men just looked at me. Fortunately, Marv wasn't one of them, keeping his eyes on the road.

"You aren't factoring in the dimensions," Mr. Patterson said. "The gold won't take up near that much space."

"Get some lumber and build a frame of roughly that length, width and height to hold a tarp, then hide the gold behind it," I said.

"That might actually work as long as no one with a badge demands to see what's behind the tarp," Mr. Patterson said.

"And you'd be limited to 40 miles an hour with a load that size," Grandpa said. "It'd take two full days to make a trip to the coast from up here.

"Make it look like a military convoy," the general suggested, having what may have been the best idea of the day. "Just put a tarp over the load and don't worry about building frames. I can round up some military surplus vehicles to act as escorts. It would also allow us to send extra drivers for when the truckdrivers are required to take a break. A good number of our people are qualified on such rigs. They could be on the road around the clock except for fuel stops."

"And if the military's anything like it was when I served, those drivers won't know nothin' about what they're haulin,'" Grandpa snorted. "'Master sergeant didn't tell us what the cargo was, just said get it from here to there.'"

It sounded to me like they were starting to think we could actually pull this off.

"How many rigs would that take?" Mr. Patterson asked.

"The military uses special heavy rigs to transport armored vehicles between bases using public highways," the general said, now being the one doing math on his phone. "An M1 Abrams tank can weigh anywhere from 60 to 78 tons depending on the variant, so at least ... seven, but no more than 10. I'll have to call in some favors, but I might be able to get four rigs like that. We'd have to make two runs."

"With five or six surplus Humvees for escort," Grandpa mused. "Stick a few of those trays in the back of each of ’em, gettin' it all in two trips shouldn't be a problem. We could get that done in two weekends. Two days down, two days back, a day to rest and load up for the next trip down."

"So, build the road on the 320, arrange for the rigs while that's happening, buy Gary a freighter big enough to carry 500 metric tons to Antwerp, ship by rail from there to Zurich," Mr. Patterson said. "I think that sounds almost doable."

"Buy me a freighter?!?!?!" I asked in shock.

"I think GDR, Inc. is about to launch a commercial transport division," the rich and powerful man smirked.

"Actually, you could carry that much in a relatively small seagoing fishing vessel," Gen. Rackham said. "That yacht we heard about ought to be big enough, but we might have to strip it down, take all the furniture and fixtures out."

"That would definitely be cheaper than buyin' a ship if we can get our hands on it," Grandpa said.

"With all the chaos going on down there, I bet we can," the general said. "Let me make some calls. We might even be able to have one of our teams down there sail it up the coast a ways so the convoys don't have to drive all the way down there. I've got a few old anchor clangers working for me who might enjoy taking to the waves again."

And people said I watch too many spy movies. I don't think what we were talking about would even get a treatment in Hollywood.

"This would all be a little easier if we could direct the feds' attention elsewhere," Mr. Patterson said.

"I may have to let Sarge play with that Barrett he found," the general said. "Just let him take target practice with that a few miles the other side of the headquarters. A .50-caliber report will get the BATF agents looking. Of course, they'll want to take it away from him if they can find him."

"I don't want anyone getting in trouble," I said.

Well, no more trouble than we were already facing for this.

"The sergeant was Force Recon in the Corps," Gen. Rackham said. "He knows how to hide."

"As for of the gold," Mr. Patterson said, "my advice is to hold onto it indefinitely. The gold market is depressed right now, down about $400 an ounce over the last few years. Just getting it back up to $1,500 would earn Gary more than $4 billion. Wait a year or two and see how high it goes. It wouldn't surprise me if that stash got to be worth closer to $30 billion instead of just shy of 20."

"Betcha could have some real fun then," Grandpa laughed. "Think he could cause a ruckus by threatenin' to dump that much on the market all at once?"

"It'd damn sure influence the policies some countries have or are considering," the general said. "Imagine being able to trash someone's economy with just a sell order."

I'm not sure I wanted to do that. Better leave that kinda shit to folks with nuclear capability. Tri-Star might be able to handle cartelistas easily enough, but I wasn't willing to put them up against an organized military response.

We were just a few miles from town when Mr. Patterson's phone rang.

"Well, hello, there, Princess," he said. "Have a good time at the game?"

I took that to mean it was Staci calling. His next comment pretty much confirmed it.

"Yes, he's right here beside me," he said. "Oh, dear. That doesn't sound good. Here, let me let you talk to him."

"Hello?" I said when he handed me the phone.

"Gary," Staci said, sounding strangely hoarse, "we're not going to make it tonight. I tried calling your phone, but the man who answered said you left it charging in another vehicle. He said he's right behind you and will get it back to you at Arlene's."

Fuckin' great. I hadn't even thought about my phone since we stopped for lunch.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked. "You don't sound too good."

"Everyone's coming down with that stomach bug that's going around," Staci said. "Two girls didn't even make the trip this morning and we had to stop three times on the way home because others needed a bathroom right then. I've been glued to the pot almost since I walked in the house."

"Your dad's right, that doesn't sound good," I said. "Were you traveling with the cheerleaders or the other girls?"

"The cheerleaders," she said, "but the other girls aren't doing any better. Bethany stayed in the ladies room the whole time they were stopped for lunch. Morgan and Kacie were both feeling queasy and Sherry stayed home because of it."

"Well, get some rest and drink lots of fluids," I said, offering the best advice I could think of. "We'll just have to make it up when we can."

"Sherry, too?" Staci asked.

"Sherry, too," I said as warmly as I could.

"Good, ’cause she's got ..." Staci started before it sounded like she dropped her phone and began retching.

"Staci, you OK there?" I asked with a note of panic. "Staci?"

It took a few seconds with Mr. Patterson giving me a worried look before she responded.

"I better go," Staci croaked feebly. "Got it comin' out both ends now."

The call disconnected abruptly as I wrinkled my nose at the thought and handed the phone back to her father.

"No date tonight," I said. "She's not feeling well."

"So I gathered," Mr. Patterson said, putting his phone back in a pocket.

"Probably for the best," Grandpa said. "I'm startin' to feel a little under the weather myself. Better step on it, Marv, ’less you wanna hose this wagon out tonight."

Marv stepped on it, but we still had to stop at the next convenience store we came to so my grandfather could avail himself of the facilities. I think this was a little more dire than an old farmer having to take a piss out in the country.

Grandpa returned several minutes later with a couple of quarts of Gatorade.

"May as well get started on rehydratin,'" he grunted as he climbed in and cracked open a bottle.

"Carla's granny used to whip up a homemade brew for stuff like that," Marv said as we got back underway. "I'll see if she has the recipe for it when we get to Miz Jenson's."

We made it to Arlene's with no further issues, dropping George and the general off at the Pattersons' first. I made sure I didn't get between my grandfather and the nearest bathroom when we pulled into the redhead's drive. Instead, I followed Marv to the apartment as Grandpa hurried inside the house looking for a john.

I'd left my backpack sitting in the easy chair and needed to retrieve it. Since I no longer had plans for the evening, I may as well knock out that Economics paper.

Marv knocked and we waited for his wife to open the door. Arlene did it for her. A look inside showed Lupita under the covers with Miss Carla sitting next to her in one of the kitchen chairs. Another look showed Marie and Rhonda sitting at the little table, my submissive bitch furiously typing on the little laptop my classmate was using for our assignment.

Marv stepped inside as Arlene grabbed my bag for me.

"No sugar for you, mister," she croaked, holding the backpack at arm's length. "I think everyone in here's got that crud. Go on in the house. Kitchen door's open. I'll see you later."

"Yes, ma'am."

Marv was right behind me, holding a slip of paper. Buck pulled in just long enough to toss me my phone while Marv waited for Grandpa. Somewhat amazingly, the apartment contained most of the ingredients Miss Carla needed for her granny's elixir. Marv would take Grandpa to the new house before collecting the missing pieces. The slip of paper was his shopping list.

I set my bag on Arlene's kitchen table as Grandpa hurried through, bidding me good-bye for now, on his way to catch his ride. I was pulling out the laptop when my stomach gurgled ominously. This was gonna be close.

Undoing my jeans while moving as fast as I could through the living room to the master suite, I reached the bathroom without staining the carpet. I was able to kick out of my shoes and remove the jeans and boxers, but didn't waste time with socks or shirt. I stepped into the massive shower and turned on a spigot before losing the battle. Staci wasn't the only one who had it coming out both ends tonight.

My one wish as I heaved on one wall while blasting the one behind me was that I'd had more time to digest that barbecue. Some of those chunks weren't going to wash down the drain. On the flip side, literally, there didn't seem to be any chunks. A real juicer.

I was not looking forward to the rest of my weekend. I had too much studying to do, damnit!

Things finally wound down with one last heave and fart. I washed yet more bile out of my mouth, using the shower spray. Thank God Arlene had detachable shower heads. I was able to wash most of the mess at least to the drain if not down it.

I removed my T-shirt and socks, which probably weren't worth saving after what splattered on them, and laid them on the little bench to dry. Using a couple of wads of toilet paper, I managed to scoop the foul goop from the shower drain into the toilet and flushed.

Just in time for the next round.

Jumping back into the shower, I cut loose again. Dry heaves were no more fun than they'd been the last three or four times today. I had no idea where the stuff coming out the other end was being produced. I should have cleared everything out by now.

Gasping for breath, I again rinsed down the shower just hoping not to pass out in there. I felt like death warmed over, my stomach cramping with each spasm.

Finally, I was able to stand without supporting myself against a wall and reached around the corner, groping until I found a towel. I sat on the toilet just in case as I dried myself and pulled on the boxers. Taking the towel with me, I staggered to Arlene's bed.

I laid on top of the towel, mad at the world in general as I tried to relax enough to get some sleep.

This just wasn't fair! I was a fucking billionaire! I should be paying people to get sick for me!