Officer Bolin

Huey knew better than to go up to the front porch. He should have just walked into the barn and waited. But, like Huey always told himself, “Ain’t no time like the future,” and walked right up to the house. “Howdy, ma’am,” he said peering at her name tag, “Uhh, Deputy Bolin? Is that right?”
“That’s correct, I. . .”
“Hey Deej, what’s happenin’ man?" Huey cut Deputy Bolin off and went straight for the cooler of beer, flipping up the lid and grabbing one before the lid fell back in place. “I’d offer you one ma’am but it looks like you’re on duty.”
“Are you Huey Ning?” Deputy Bolin asked.
“Nope,” Huey flung the gold cap off the beer bottle, arcing it up and over the squad car and into a five gallon bucket sitting next to a tree.
“Is that your green Ford Ranger you just drove in?” Deputy Bolin was really getting frustrated now and just a little nervous as she looked at the two men in front of her. Darjeeling looked harmless enough but this other guy, there was something that didn’t look right about him. Then he looked her right in the eyes. His eyes were bluer than any blue she had ever seen. But more than that, they sparkled and had a kind of fluorescent effect. And the pupils were not round but star shaped. He was only a few feet in front of her now and he pierced her with those eyes, right to the brain. She almost felt dizzy but regained her composure. He smiled at her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his. She felt herself drifting away, out into some space that was glowing with a light beer bottle green glow. Little stars like the pupils in his eyes danced in front of her and she heard tiny voices all around calling her name. “Ann, Ann, Ann,” they cried in a soft cadence, “Ann Bolin, we are here for you.” She shook her head and brought herself back to the old two-story farmhouse in Louisburg. Bright little stars still danced in front of her for a bit and then faded. “What in the world was that?” she said out loud.
“Stephen.”
“I’m sorry?” Officer Bolin checked herself over before looking up.
“You asked if I am Huey Ning and I said nope and now I just said Stephen. I am Stephen Ning.”
“Where is your brother then.”
“He went to shit and the hogs ate ‘im,” He and Darjeeling recited simultaneously and then laughed and high-fived each other. The lid on the cooler flew open and out came two more beers, Darjeeling with one in each hand then kicked the lid on its downward track, slamming it shut.
“He’s not my brother, did you see the green fog and hear the voices of the Ancient Ones?”
Officer Ann Bolin stepped back and put her hand on her service revolver. ”What’s going on here?” she asked. The dog behind her didn’t budge as she backed into it then headed for her car. They both scratched their heads as she drove off.
“What did you do to her, man?”
“Hey, I thought is was you and that green fog you’re always in. Oh shit, here she comes back, let’s give her the disappearing act.”
“Right!”
Huey lifted the lid on the spider hole and jumped down, rolling to the left as Darjeeling jumped in after him, pulling the camouflaged lid shut and turning the two-by-four lock into place. With headlamps on, they made their way toward the barn, pulling themselves along on the little wheeled carts they had made. They passed the house tunnel and the escape tunnel that daylighted out in the field west of the house and came to the barn entrance in about five minutes. Huey reached up and grabbed the two-by-four lock and twisted, then pushed up on the lid. He pushed up again but the lid wouldn’t open. The third time he pushed, the lid gave and he peered out into the barn. Albert, the Tibetan Yak dog, licked his face. “That ignorant son-of-a-bitch was sitting on the lid,” Huey said back down to Darjeeling who laughed and followed him out of the hole. They brushed themselves off and headed for the Ranger.
To Darjeeling, the 1994 Ford Ranger was a big piece of turquoise. He had acquired it in an Indian trade a few years back and had restored it to good condition mechanically and cosmetically and also had added a few other “features”, as he called them that enhanced the Ranger’s performance. Darjeeling was no gear head, but he could do what was needed in the area of repair so that the Turquoise Ranger responded whenever it was called upon. He and Huey approached the truck and Huey jumped in behind the wheel. Darjeeling never drove, he only rode. He walked over to the bay door and quietly opened it while Huey slipped the clutch and silently coasted out toward the driveway that led away from the barn and house, obscuring the vision of Officer Bolin by keeping the barn between her and the Ranger. Darjeeling hopped in on the shotgun side and left the door open as they drifted down toward the creek. He didn’t want to draw attention by slamming the door. Huey had his propped open too as they made the tree line. The grade was steep enough that they could continue to coast and turn toward the road before they had to start the engine. Once they cleared the creek and were behind the trees, Huey hit the ignition and let the truck idle up the incline toward the country road. Darjeeling could see Officer Bolin looking in the house windows as Albert licked her hand. She kept trying to get rid of the dog but that was like shit trying to get rid of flies. Darjeeling laughed, “That son-of-a-bitch is going to lick her to death.”
“That’s the way with them Yak dogs,” Huey said, “They will bother you forever.” He made the fence gate and so far had not made a sound. Darjeeling bailed out and lifted the latch on the red gate. The Turquoise Ranger idled through the gate and out onto the gravel road. The trees still sheltered them from the officer’s view. “She ain’t got a clue,” Huey laughed as they turned the corner and headed for Louisburg.
“Let’s get us some cold green ones, Huey,” Darjeeling stuck his face in the wind and looked on down the road.