Nightfall - Chapter One, Part Two
Lightning streaked across the sky like a crooked finger, illuminating a trail of wreckage left behind from the large vehicle, just before striking the termination device near the tower. The violent change in barometric pressure shook the earth with a thunderous roar.
The light and noise started Jeremiah, making him stumble down the muddy embankment, falling on his back at the bottom with a thud.
The rain was coming in sheets, driving itself into his eyes and nostrils, soaking his uniform as it fell from the angry sky.
A spotlight light shown from the shoulder of the road, its piercing light driving away the darkness.
“Leave it to a Hogg to wallow in the mud.”
Came the gruff voice of Chief Presley through the speaker of the police SUV, disdain evident in the proclamation.
The red and blue lights casting pulsating silhouettes of Jeremiah as he lay where he fell; staring up at the truck, it’s form illuminated by strobing LED lights.
Rolling to his side, he took a knee and glared back at the man sitting comfortably in the truck. Standing, he rolled his neck with a satisfying Crack. Trying to shake off the mud that was relentlessly clinging to his soaked frame, Jeremiah shouted. “I don’t see you coming down here!”
Several moments passed with no response as he stood in the rain, its sting adding to the annoyance that was building within.
Then the spotlight of the vehicle slowly turned, its beam breaking through the rain as it followed the tire marks further into the broken tree line. Jeremiah turned to watch as the sterile circle of light came to rest several meters beyond him, the remains of twisted T-Posts and ruined cattle panel fencing on display for him to see.
Hearing a truck door closing, he looked back to see Frank Presley, now standing on the shoulder of the highway, police vehicle’s lights reflecting off his clear poncho, scattering his shadow. Despite the lights, Jeremiah could see the glowing embers from Chief Presley’s cigarette outlining the features of his weathered face in their eerily warm glow.
Slowly the man walked down the embankment and toward Jeremiah, his movement like that of a predatory cat.
Jeremiah Hogg was a large man, standing at a towering 6’10”, weighing in at 370lbs with a build like Eddie Hall; but there was something about Frank Presley that made him feel small.
Even though he was a good six inches taller than Presley, the way he carried himself announced to everyone that he was a force to reckon with.
Jeremiah watched as Chief Presley pulled his sidearm, flipping the switch of the firearm’s light, its intensity turning the darkness into day. Walking past him toward the fence line, he stopped; looking over his shoulder and glaring at Jeremiah.
“You coming Hogg? Or are to content waiting in the mud?” He asked, exhaling the cigarette smoke through his nostrils like some mythical dragon of old.
Jeremiah scrapped the mud from his holster, slinging the clump to the ground. Without saying a word, he removed his sidearm and flicked the selector, its light springing to life. Trudging through the mud, he came alongside the older man, inclining his head to indicate that he would let the Chief lead the way.
Chief Presley took one last drag of his cigarette before taking it with his free hand and dropping it in the mud, snuffing out the lingering embers with the heel of his boot. Pushing through the broken limbs of the junipers that lined the field, they were met with the glow of tail lights.
The rain began to slow as they drew closer to the wreck, the smell spilt fuel increasing as the fumes were no longer forced to the ground by the derecho.
“Diesel?” Jeremiah questioned, sniffing the air as he cautiously approached the tail of the truck. The smell triggering memories of when he was a small child, helping his grandfather work the controls of the old tractor at the Purgatory stock yards.
“Mm-hmm.” Chief Presley responded; his eyes focused on the light coming from his weapon. The amount of damage the vehicle did after it tore through the guardrail and through the trees testified to how well they used to build these farm trucks. Despite all that, the body of the vehicle was still visible showed very little damage.
“Old fool must’ve been drinking.” Jeremiah said with a smirk. “Whole family is nothin but drunks.”
Frank stopped and glared at Jeremiah. “I wasn’t aware the Oklahoma Bureau of Criminal Delinquents trained their agents to come to a conclusion without all the facts.” He said, ice in his voice.
“Just saying,” Jeremiah replied, holding up one hand as he continued. “Mel’s record speaks for itself.”
“We aren’t here for Mel.” Chief Presley interjected. “Why don’t you check for casualties on that side of the truck.”
Circling to the passenger side of the truck, Jeremiah cautiously walked toward the twisted remains of the chain-link fence. Reaching for the fence, he came to himself and realized the danger.
“You think this is electrified?” He asked.
“Doubtful,” Chief Presley replied. “If it were me; I’d wait for the Hose Draggers to get here before hopping that fence.” Pointing his pistol at the partially collapsed building hiding the front of the truck, he ran the light along the roof; following the thick transmission lines from the generator up the side of the tower until the beam could no longer track them.
Looking back at Jeremiah he gave a hard grin, “But if you want to give it a try, go ahead. I won’t be the one to drag your sorry carcass out of there if you fry.”
“The hell is your frackin problem old man!” Jeremiah retorted with a scowl, quickly moving from his side of the truck and toward Frank. “You’ve been riding me all night, and I’ve had enough.” He said, rounding the rear of the truck.
“My Problem is you!” Frank replied, malice in his voice. Despite the substantial size difference between the two men, he moved to meet Jeremiah head on.
“You come here from the Capitol lookin for trouble. Meddling in everyone’s business.”
Seething, Jeremiah jabbed his index finger into Frank’s plate carrier; pressing hard against the smaller man. “Just what are you implying old man?” He growled.
Unimpressed, Frank reached around and took hold of Jeremiah’s thumb, leveraging it in his vice like grip. With the swiftness of muscle memory, he twisted and applied pressure to the larger man’s wrist. Pain shot through him like electricity, making him drop to a knee and bringing him under control. “Feelin Lucky Hogg?” He said. Glaring down at the man, Chief Presley continued “I know you came out here to make life miserable for Mel, you’ve been trying to do that ever since Amber chose him over you.” Twisting hard, he torqued Jeremiah’s thumb causing the man to wince in pain. “We’re not out here for Mel are we Jeremiah. We’re out here for John, and your vendetta with his son isn’t helping.”
Realizing that his anger and frustration had taken hold of him, he released Jeremiah. Watching as the giant of a man cradled his wrist against his chest for a moment, before meeting his gaze; fury in his eyes.
“John Sterling is not a drunk.” Frank said, his voice calming. “He’s my friend, and I won’t let someone like you hinder me from helping him. Not anymore. Do you understand?”
Neither spoke as they stared at each other, seemingly daring the other to break their stalemate. The sound of distant thunder rolled as the wind began to pick up once more. Suddenly, the sound of a nearby engine roared to life followed by a brilliant light breaking through the darkness, bathing the scene in a warm glow.
Ignoring the light, Chief Presley spoke once more “Do you understand me?”
With a nod, Jeremiah stood, rubbing his wrist. “Oh, I understand Frank.” He replied, fire in his eyes. “I fully understand.”