"My darling Eliza, daring woman that she is, dragged me off to see the swimming hole she found. It's a lovely, clear pool, nestled amid mossy banks. And the unusual heat for this early in spring fooled us into thinking a quick dip might be a good idea. We soon found that the mountain-fed stream is downright bone-chilling at this time of year. If only we'd known that before leaping headlong right into it..."--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 8
TGIF?
It was Friday at the post office, Duo's self-proclaimed favorite day, because as he put it, "You've got the whole weekend to look forward to! By Saturday, you're tryin' to figure out how much you can get done so you can relax on Sunday, and on Sunday, you know the next day's Monday, so it just saps all the fun right out of it. But Friday--the whole weekend stretches out ahead of you--blissful anticipation!"
Quatre looked down at the letter he'd just sorted, wondering how much of a damper it'd put on Duo's much-loved Friday.
It was addressed to Heero Yuy, Smoky Hills, from someone listed as R. Darlian in Sanc. It was also sent via registered mail, which meant Duo would have to acquire a signature before delivering the piece. And that meant he'd have to take it to the door, knock, and deal with the man who'd so bitterly complained about poor service just a few days before.
"Lovely."
The postmaster wrote up the slip to be signed, and jotted the numbers down on his sheet of accountable mail, and then walked back and handed the clipboard to Duo, watching for his reaction.
The letter carrier began to perfunctorily initial next to each item, until he looked at the last one and saw the name. "Yuy?" he exploded in horror. "I've got a registered for that bastard?"
"Um, yes," Quatre said carefully, trying not to smirk. It would only infuriate his volatile friend.
"Christ!" blurted Duo, looking up pleadingly. "Can't I just leave a notice in the mailbox?"
"You know that's not how it works," replied his boss patiently. "You have to actually attempt it."
"It's not even addressed properly," Duo pointed out, gesturing to the missing street address. "It's just got his name and the town on it."
"We know who he is, Duo. And where he lives. We have to at least try."
"But--the driveway's gotta be over half a mile long! I'm not supposed to have to go more than a mile off the route for one of these."
"The driveway is not that long," Quatre assured him. "It can't possibly be more than a quarter-mile in. That's half a mile round trip, and certainly within delivery parameters."
"He's probably not home anyway," Duo protested. "You know sometimes the mail piles up in that box for a couple of days."
So what if it had only happened once--it still had accumulated two days' worth of mail.
"You can't assume he's not around," came the implacable reply. "Duo, you know you have to try." Quatre fixed a stern glare on his employee. "And I mean really try. Don't give me a song and dance about how you did, if you actually didn't."
Duo scowled in return. "You know I don't lie, Quat."
"After the mountain lion incident--"
"I did not lie about that!" Duo said hotly. "And it wasn't my imagination, either! The damned thing followed me almost the whole way back to town. I don't care how many people think it's just a myth. There are mountain lions in these hills!"
"Be that as it may," sighed Quatre. "You have to take this piece of mail to Yuy's door, like it or not. Understand?"
Duo grumbled under his breath, dropping his gaze to the offending letter. "Fine."
"Promise you'll take it to the door?"
"Fuck it, yeah!" snapped Duo.
"Thanks." Quatre clapped him on the shoulder and returned to his desk work, while Duo glared unhappily down at the piece of mail.
"Probably get killed by freakin' axe murderers," he mumbled irritably. "Maybe then he'll believe me. Be too late, of course, but still--my tombstone could read 'Duo was right,' for all the good it'd do me..."
"I'll make sure it's a very nice funeral," Quatre said in a pleasant, conversational tone, smirking at his paperwork.
"Gee, thanks."
With the unpleasant letter casting a pall over Duo's beloved Friday, the rest of the morning passed in near-silence. In fact, the letter carrier went so far as to put on his headset and listen to his own music, instead of joking around and switching the office radio to a rock station to see how long it'd take Quatre to decide it wasn't "proper" for a postal facility to be playing Nine Inch Nails.
When he was finally ready to go, and had loaded up the Jeep and signed out on his time sheet, he paused at the door and waited for Quatre to finish with the customer at the window.
"I'm heading out," he told his boss, waving the handful of accountable pieces. "If I don't make it back, I just want to say for the record 'I told you so!'"
Quatre smiled, knowing he was forgiven for being the bearer of bad news. "Drive carefully, Duo," he said in their usual farewell. "Stay safe out there."
"Well, I would if I could," came the snide retort. Duo saluted with the letters. "We who are about to die--"
"Just get going!" Quatre laughed, waving him away.
Duo smirked and headed out, eager to get finished and begin to enjoy his weekend. Scary farm notwithstanding, he planned to make record time on the route, so he could stop at the grocery store on the way home and treat Quatre to steaks on the grill. It was payday, after all.
Eager as he was, Duo did indeed make good time, and found himself driving up around the reservoir in the early afternoon.
It was cooler than the beginning of the week had been, but he still found himself thinking back to summers spent playing in the creeks and forests of Smoky Hills. There'd been some particularly memorable occasions--the time up in Enders Forest when he'd first gotten the nerve to jump off the rock ledge and into the deep swimming hole down below it.
That had been a favorite pastime for locals--playing in the chilly water that cascaded down out of the mountains into pools framed by mossy rocks, and shaded by tall pines and oaks.
There'd been plenty of skinny-dipping, too, especially when the kids were too young to really care about nudity and the implications. Duo had seen his first naked girl at that swimming hole, not that it mattered now that he knew where his preferences lay. But at the time, it had seemed like a pretty big deal.
He was drawn forcibly back to the present when he saw a deer trotting across the road up ahead, and quickly slowed to avoid a collision and watch for more of the tawny animals. It seemed like there was never one, but a whole herd crossing the road.
Sure enough, two more trotted after it, and then all three ghosted off into the trees.
"Whew." He reached across to his travel mug, taking a swig of the cold tea he'd filled it with that morning, and counted himself lucky to have noticed the deer in plenty of time to stop. They were an ever-present danger out here, as some kids from high school had discovered when speeding on the winding back roads.
Duo remembered attending Nikol's funeral--trying to comfort his brother Alex, who'd been driving that night, and the girls who'd been in the back seat and survived as well. But then, after Solo left, Alex had started hanging out with Otto and Trant, and now was on the opposite side of the fence from the braided man.
When he passed the spot where the accident had occurred, Duo looked automatically for the huge scar on the trunk of the sturdy oak that had stopped the swerving vehicle. Nikol had died instantly.
"Lucky bastard," Duo sighed, shaking his head. "Got outta this stinkhole of a town, didn't you?"
He could almost hear Nikol's familiar laugh, and imagine the other boy tearing down the hall of the high school after pulling one of his famous pranks. He'd been a good kid--like Alex had been, before taking up with the town thugs.
"Water under the fuckin' bridge," Duo reminded himself. "Or over the spillway," he added, thinking of the damn that formed the reservoir and the spillway that dried up in summer and ran wildly in spring, when the ice melted on the mountains and the streams filled it to capacity and beyond.
When he got to the driveway for the Barton farm, Duo hesitated, old fears and hesitations coming back to remind him there was no trespassing allowed. He could almost see Old Man Barton, shotgun raised, warning the kids who'd blundered into one of his cornfields to "Git, or else!"
But he had every right to be here now, driving up that lane with a legitimate purpose. So he turned in and headed for the farmhouse, gripping the wheel just a little tighter than necessary, and half-expecting the old man's ghost to send him packing.
After a singularly anti-climactic drive, he pulled up in front of the old house, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the neatly-trimmed path, the newly-painted front door, and windows that shone in the sun. It looked--cozy. And big. He'd had no idea how sprawling the building was, seeing as he'd never gotten close enough for a good look.
"Wow. Nice place," he admitted, trying not to feel disappointed that there were no broken windows, sagging shutters, or ghoulish faces peering from behind cobwebs of curtains.
He shut off the Jeep and grabbed a pen and the registered letter off the dashboard. Time to face the scariest part of the old place--the new inhabitant.
"Maybe he's not home," he said under his breath, looking around for a car, and seeing none. "Maybe he's downtown--buying tarps to wrap up the bodies. Or paper to write complaints on."
That last bit made Duo grin at his own joke, and he felt a little better as he headed reluctantly up the stone walkway to the brooding old farmhouse.
Porch steps creaked under his weight at he climbed them, and he winced, hoping maybe no one heard and there'd be no answer to his knock on the door.
Of course, when he tripped over the doormat and slammed into the wall with his shoulder while trying to catch himself, he figured his sneak method had been a waste of time. So he gathered himself up, brushed himself off, opened the screen door, and knocked firmly on the oak one. Who knew? Maybe he'd get lucky and the mysterious green-eyed Barton guy would come to the door.
He heard the sound of barking, deep and throaty, coming from inside the house, and let the screen door close, figuring if Yuy opened the inner door, it might at least slow down a charging dog.
Or wolf, if the husky sound was any indication of size. "Damn...sounds big," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder to plot the fastest route back to his vehicle.
Of course, then he saw the massive grey hound standing beside it.
"Fuck!" he hissed, wondering how something so huge had managed to slip up silently behind him.
A loose dog would have been the perfect excuse not to leave his car at all, and he wondered how he'd overlooked something that size as he drove up.
Just as he was debating whether to try to slink past the monstrous creature, who seemed content to stand beside his Jeep, the door behind him opened and he spun to find Mister Yuy standing there with the same glower he'd worn at the counter of the post office a few days earlier, and another wolfhound beside him.
The Japanese man looked as if he'd been awakened. His hair was a bit more disheveled than it had been the last time Duo laid eyes on him, and he wore sweatpants and a loose tee shirt. "What do you want?"
Duo suddenly realized he was staring. "Oh, um, I've got a registered letter for you to sign for." He held out the pink slip and pen.
The man slid the screen door open just far enough to take both items. "Who's it from?"
Duo looked at the envelope. "Uh...looks like R. Darlian."
The man's scowl deepened, and he thrust the paper and pen back at Duo. "I don't want it."
"What?"
"I said I don't want it. Send it back." The keen eyes fixed a discerning look on Duo. "I can refuse it, right?"
"Well, yeah," Duo admitted. "But no one ever does."
"I am."
"Why?" Duo couldn't help asking.
"That's none of your business," Heero retorted. "Just do your job and send the damned thing back." He started to close the oak door.
"Hey, wait!" Duo blurted. "I--there's a dog over by my Jeep. How'm I supposed to get back there?"
The dark-haired man followed the finger Duo pointed at the huge hound, and made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "He's not vicious. Walk right past him."
Duo gave the dog a skeptical look. "I--ah--I'd rather not," he told Mister Yuy. "We aren't even supposed to leave the vehicle if there's a dog loose. You never know when they might get territorial."
"He's not."
Duo glared at the man, reflecting that if animals took after their owners the grey beast would probably maul him before he got halfway down the walk. "Call your dog, or I'll call my boss," he snarled.
"Oh for fuck's sake," came the irritable response. The man pushed back the dog at his side, and opened the screen door. "Thor, come!"
The huge wolfhound trotted happily up the steps, brushing past Duo and into the house, where it wagged its tail at the other dog before both romped off together.
"Satisfied?" snapped the blue-eyed man, his scornful glare back on Duo. "Or should I hold your hand and walk you back to your--?" He paused and gave the beat-up old Jeep a scathing look. "--car?"
Duo opened his mouth to tell the man to go fuck himself, and then recalled that he was supposed to be on the job, and supposed to be a professional. He settled for giving him an icy look. "Don't expect any more deliveries to the door, if you've got loose animals running around. It's against postal policy."
"He's not usually out alone," came the cold reply.
"I'm not taking any chances," Duo retorted, turning on his heel and stomping back down the squeaky steps, before stalking angrily back to the Jeep.
He yanked open the door and climbed in, tossing the refused letter into his outgoing tray, and putting on his seatbelt before starting up the car and roaring out of the yard in a shower of dirt and gravel. A quick glance in his rearview mirror showed that the antisocial homeowner was still at the screen, watching him leave, and he figured there'd probably be a call made to Quatre about his driving.
"Fucking asshole!" he growled, relieved to turn a corner in the driveway which took him out of sight of the house.
He fumed most of the way back to the office, and braced himself for a chewing out when he got there.
But Quatre was waiting on customers as he let himself in the back door, and merely called a cursory greeting.
So, the asshole hadn't called to complain?
Duo decided to simply count his blessings, and he set about turning in the delivery receipts and the outgoing mail.
A few minutes later, Quatre came back to log in the accountables. "Wasn't he home?" he asked, looking at the piece of mail for Yuy.
"He was. He refused it," Duo said curtly. "And I had to fuckin' dodge a goddamned wolfhound to even attempt it, by the way! I'm not going back up that driveway, Quat. Ever."
Quatre looked concerned. "Did the dog go after you?"
"Um. Not exactly," Duo admitted, thinking that the whiskery face would've been kind of cute, if it wasn't on a dog the size of a pony. "But it was loose in the yard."
"Then why'd you get out?"
"I didn't see it until I was already up on the porch. And it was between me an' the Jeep."
"But it let you get past?"
"I made Yuy call it inside when he came to the door. And he's as big an asshole as ever, by the way. Wouldn't accept the piece of mail, and then gave me a hard time about the dog. I told him I'm not going into his yard if he's got loose dogs."
Quatre nodded. "That's fine," he agreed. "Next time wait in the car and just beep the horn. If he doesn't come out--minus the dog--you can at least say you tried."
Duo rolled his eyes. "I have to drive all the way in?"
"You know you do. Unless you see the dog out there. Then you can leave. I won't subject you to potential dog bites."
"Gee, thanks," Duo muttered.
Quatre picked up the letter, eyeing it thoughtfully. "I wonder why he refused this," he mused.
"I asked," Duo admitted, turning and putting his trays into the designated stack. "But he told me it was none of my business."
A faint smile twitched at the corners of Quatre's mouth. "Technically, it's not."
"Yeah, well, normally people don't refuse registered mail. It's usually something they want, or something valuable."
Quatre hummed agreement, and then took the letter to mark as refused and send back, while Duo finished filling out his time sheet and went to wash up.
When the carrier came out of the bathroom, Quatre was back up at his desk, working on time cards.
"Hey, Quat," Duo said, pausing at the back door. "I'm gonna stop at the grocery store on my way home, an' get something good for supper. What kinda veggies you want?"
"Whose night is it to cook?"
"Mine. And I have a hankering for steak on the grill, mashed potatoes, and maybe something wholesome and green on the side."
"Green beans then?"
"Sounds good. Anything else?"
"Dessert?"
"God, we sound like an old married couple," Duo lamented, shaking his head.
"Perish the thought," replied his boss with a shiver.
Duo gave a mock pout. "Am I that bad a catch?"
"Hell, no. You make more than I do," Quatre reminded him. "And you're a better cook."
"So you only love me for my money and cooking!"
"Well, the bunny jammies are a serious turn-off."
Duo couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. "Fine. Just for insulting my sleepwear, you get to bring home the dessert. And it better be good!"
Quatre grinned back. "All right. I'll get dessert. And I'll call before I leave here, in case you think of anything else."
Duo gave him a teasing leer. "What else could there be? I'll have the grill heated and the potatoes boiling, and you just worry about getting your sweet self home, okay?"
Quatre chuckled. "Fair enough. See you later, hon," he said sarcastically.
"Whatever you say, sweetcheeks."
Quatre was still grinning as Duo disappeared out the door.
TBC...
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