Chester and the 24-hour Lottery

Chester sat in a dusty bedroom in Neighborhood Crane looking out the window facing a large brown barn. He had barely slept the last few nights from the unfamiliar noises and quiet, perplexed the two bothered him almost to the point of insomnia. Why the calm before animal cries disturbed the peace kept him tossing and turning, supposing living in barracks and a trailer where it wasn’t uncommon for idiots to party twenty-four-seven accustomed his senses to reject the country lifestyle.

A knock on the wooden door preceded Van’s entrance. She carried two cups and handed one to him with a smirk. He grimaced in return, taking the much-needed shit for coffee returning his gaze outside.

“Ask.” She teased, standing to his left.

“Anything new?”

“Nope.”

Chester turned, wanting to spout something rude but didn’t. She sounded happy. After everything they’d seen and done, he supposed a few days of hiding in a house with complete strangers wasn’t so bad. Initially, he’d questioned why Van did not visit her family but when she called him a dumb ass for even suggesting endangering them, never brought it up again although curious to meet those responsible raising such an infuriatingly strong-willed woman.

“Saldivar must be busy,” she mused aloud, “We are not the players to finish this, Chet.”

“So bloodthirsty,” he muttered before sipping the bitter brew.

“Like you aren’t going stir crazy sitting here wondering if the other states succeeded blowing up their government compounds,” she shot back, “I think I’ll go check on the truck today. See if it’s salvageable or if Garth found it.”

“He was at the assembly and might have perished in the riot. At least we know what the hell happened in Wayfarer. I can’t believe five hundred people died.”

Van rolled her eyes, resting her narrow butt on the windowsill, “I’m not so sure about that count. Garth dislikes you, surprised he hasn’t tracked us down already.”

“How are you traveling? You left it outside of Saldivar.”

“I’m from here. I’ll get a ride.”

He nodded, watching the man whose home they were staying walk out of an outbuilding with his eldest son. The men saw him staring but quickly looked away. Deven was a few years younger than he was, a burly farm guy who he feared had a thing for Van.

He cut eyes at her asking, “Is Deven giving you that ride?”

She coyly batted her eyelashes much to his annoyance, “Maybe. Well, what are your plans? Another day of hiding? No one comes this far out and if they do, you’ll be able to see from the three-mile road in.”

He nodded again, finishing the coffee without responding. He felt safe upstairs where he could observe everything. Van ran around outdoors with the kids, pitching in with feeding the animals and mucking stalls. He’d never known such hard labor, realizing the shit job at Petez Pizza Palace was a piece of pie. He let out a chuckle at his own internal joke earning a puzzled look from Van.

“Whatever,” he snapped, “Should I travel with you? What if something happens?”

She stood, heading for the door, “Hmm, is that your main concern? Will you miss me?”

He smirked at the hidden meaning behind her question. They had barely spent any time together except for meals since arriving in Crane, which hardly counted, for the family acted like wild beasts talking over each other as they stuffed their faces. Keeping to himself otherwise, Van behaved as if there wasn’t a simmering sexual expectation when she teased him.

“Come on then,” she drawled when he remained quiet.

Chester pursued her down the narrow staircase ending in a narrower hallway where four doorways led off into different areas of the house. The younger children were eating breakfast with their mother who screamed at them to shut up and eat. Van set the empty mugs on a table before they walked outside.

Deven and his father stood speaking to a woman wearing dirty overalls with her red hair in a long braid over her shoulder. Van grinned, descending the stairs to throw her arms around the girl. He exchanged polite nods until the older man shuffled inside for his meal.

There was a moment where Chester didn’t know what to do as they talked in hushed tones, excluding him. Then Van turned her green eyes to him smiling as if sensing his awkwardness.

“Chet, this is Lacy, my friend, and partner in crime,” she laughed, throwing her head back, then pointed, “I guess you are too, huh? Anyway, a vehicle is in the woods on an old logging route so we can bypass the checkpoint. Are you ready?”

Nodding in surprise, followed the trio into the thick woodlands behind the farm. What the hell? He frowned at the realization anyone could have snuck into the farmhouse. Van had been babying him the entire time, and he shot her perky backside an unseen glare.

“It’s so nice to meet you properly,” Lacy fell into step beside him as the others hurried ahead, “I smuggled you guys through the checkpoint on Halloween. It wasn’t difficult since I fuck the brains out of the night guard when no one’s around,” Chester stumbled on an exposed root, “I watched everything last week and have to say, Chester, you’re incredibly brave. Everyone loves you! Do you still have the UZI?”

He glanced her way, noting freckles on her nose and cheeks, “Thanks? It felt incredibly dangerous at the time and yes, I do. Joey left a cache of weapons before running away.”

“Put this on,” Lacy pulled an old worn-out ball-cap from the center pocket of her overalls, “We need to keep you and Van off of the radar.”

Chester tugged on the hat, hating how his ears stuck out. Lacy was a chatterbox, like Van, and he zoned her out long before reaching the blacked-out truck covered with tree branches. Van, Deven, and Lacy got to work uncovering the vehicle as he stood uselessly watching. The truck was in good repair, one of many the elite drove, but he knew it had to be stolen and modified by the mess of wiring on the dashboard.

“Buckle up,” Van ordered behind the wheel with Deven sitting in the passenger seat.

“Don’t wreck my ride,” Lacy warned, “And don’t draw attention Vanyla!”

Van gunned the truck onto the rocky trail and Chester braced himself as she flew over ruts and skidded out onto the paved road far faster than necessary. Van hated being told what to do so unsurprised when she just laughed as Deven and Lacy bitched about at her carelessness.

“I've heard gossip from Wayfarer City,” Lacy announced as Van slowed down, joining the sporadic morning traffic, “Chester is a wanted man. Governor Spell’s hiding, but he released a statement accusing Chester of murder and being the mastermind behind the revolt he’s officially dubbed, ‘Drivel Delirium’ because apparently, we’re all suffering from hysteria brought on by the lies he told in his speech.”

"What?” Chester choked on his own surprise as thick saliva coated the inside of his mouth, ”No. He named what happened on Halloween after me?”

Van glanced at him in the mirror, “Wow, you going to be okay, Chet?”

He coughed, shaking his head. This was a disaster. Drivel Delirium? What kind of shit name was that? The more he ruminated on it, as the others cast him nervous looks, decided it must be about the drug Spell threatened to use on the citizens of Ozark.

Van pulled onto a side-road where they had ditched the truck during the lottery fiasco. It had been dark then, and the vehicle wasn’t well hidden behind an old billboard that had fallen off of its metal frame.

She pulled a pistol out from somewhere and he saw Deven reach under the seat, producing a sawed-off shotgun. Lacy reached into her overalls and came out with a wicked-looking knife. He inwardly slapped himself because back at the farmhouse there was a stockpile of weapons he hadn’t bothered to take along.

“Stay here,” Lacy ordered before opening the door, running to the other truck.

Van turned to look at him, “We have tools to disable a locator if there is one. I don’t see fresh tracks so maybe we got lucky.”

“Drivel Delirium?” he whined, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Couldn’t he have come up with something like Ozark Experientialist?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, that rolls off the tongue. Don’t sweat it, people love you.”

Chester gave her an incredulous glare, “Care to point them out next time someone tries to kill me?”

She laughed like he made a joke, “Once I contact Saldivar, I’ll convince him to make a bulletin denying Spell’s claims.”

He ran a hand over his face, “One issue at a time.”

“He’s right,” Deven opened the door, “Let’s get this over with. I don’t like having you so exposed.”

Chester nearly spat he was the one with a death warrant but held his tongue, knowing Deven cared about Van and he never wanted to see her hurt. The more allies they had, the better.

Van got the tools from the back then he stood by as the women effortlessly took inventory of the truck. Deven kept guard, his shotgun at the ready and Chester paced uselessly as they flung parts aside. After twenty minutes the ladies nodded at each other and he helped gather everything up.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” he asked Van.

"STOP WHERE YOU ARE!”

Van and Chester swiveled to see Garth holding Deven in a chokehold pointing a .357 at Lacy. Chester watched in astonishment as Van brought up her gun and without blinking, shot the arm gripping his weapon. Garth shouted in pain, dropping the gun.

“Get in!” Lacy scrambled to her truck as Chester stood frozen while Van ran towards Deven.

This woman is un-fucking-believable, he thought when Van ran forward with no trace of fear.

“Van!” he snapped out of his stupor, “Don’t!”

Garth shoved Deven to the ground, his arm dripping blood, but that didn’t stop the punch he swung, knocking Deven unconscious. Garth removed the gun out of Van’s hand in one quick motion but she didn’t falter, jumping on his back like a goddamn monkey. Chester, afraid for Van, who wrapped her small frame around Garth’s back, arms going for a chokehold on his thick neck, picked up the .375, wavering as the two twirled around and around as Garth tried to dislodge her.

“Get off bitch!” Garth seethed bending over, flinging her over his head like a rag doll. She hit the dirt with her back, wheezing as the air left her lungs.

“I’ll fucking shoot!” Chester held the gun with both hands, “Don’t move Garth!”

Garth gave a big smile, putting pressure on his wounded arm, “That little bitch has more fight than you do Chester. I’ve been waiting to take you in.”

Van coughed where she recovered on the ground but Chester didn’t take his eyes off of Garth, knowing if he did the man would pounce. He took a few steps to where she laid, not responding to Garth taunts.

The tension in the air crackled when no one moved or spoke. Chester felt his heartbeat in his fingertips when he nearly pressed the trigger for the fact Garth had hurt Van. She was crazy for thinking she could take down a trained killer.

“I’m on your side,” Garth growled, looking down at his bloody arm, “Figured you’d react this way. I’m here to take you to Saldivar. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone until she shot me!”

“Bullshit! Van would know, right Van?”

She sat up, rubbing her chest, “There are many secretly involved with the rebellion. Fuck that hurt!”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll live, but he won’t if he’s lying.”

Garth huffed in response, tearing his shirt from his body, revealing a flesh wound on his upper right arm, “I could have killed all of you six different ways by now but I haven’t. Either kill me or believe me Chester, but we don’t have time to stand around.”

Van climbed to her feet then crouched down beside Deven who looked like he wasn’t waking up soon. Garth was a mountain of a man and although Deven was strong, apparently had a glass jaw.

He lowered the gun, keeping watch on Garth, “Where is Saldivar?”

Garth wrapped a strip of cloth around his arm, using his teeth to tie it before answering, “You’ll need to trust me. That lady in the truck and this guy can leave, but you two are coming with me.”

Van picked up her gun, “Fucking Saldivar should have told me you are our contact. Fine. Just so you know, I could have killed you eight different ways.”

Garth shook his head with a small smile, “Somehow, I believe it. You’ve got bigger balls than Chester.”

Chester gripped the .357, wanting to kill Garth even when he helped load Deven into Lacy’s truck. Van whispered to stay close while handing over a switchblade, making him wonder where she hid her weapons since she wore simple blue jeans and a loose cotton top then they were on the road, trusting Garth not to lead them into a trap.