Artifact 19: Josh Sidelined

Here in Part 19, Josh had discovered that the box containing the artifact is missing. Now what is he to do?

Artifact 19: Josh Sidelined

 

            In the morning’s half-light, Josh dove across the driver’s seat. Josh’s mind spun trying to comprehend how his precious cargo could be missing when he hadn’t left his car unintended�"or had he? His feverish thoughts would not focus.

In the low light, he reached around all the corners of the car’s floorboards even though he knew he’d see the cigar box if it was still there. With no passenger seat to slide under or any other place for the box to hide, Josh knew the box was gone, nevertheless he bunched his jacket up and felt it all over as well. He slumped into his seat defeated and flummoxed sitting there pondering his loss and predicament. With reality sinking in, he felt small, insignificant, and defeated.

The dog barked from what sounded like only a few meters away. He heard a man’s voice but couldn’t understand the words. Why finding this out here and now with someone out there? He thought through his last couple of days wondering how he could have lost his precious cargo�"until it hit him. She took it and Josh knew finding her and it would be difficult, nay impossible. Josh endeavored putting on a brave face despite his churning stomach and his spirits down in the dumps.

Getting out of the car, Josh put on his jacket and stretched his aching back. He squinted up into the early morning sun that glinted through the low-hanging oak leaves. The mottled leaf shadows swiveled back and forth across his face and ground. Josh breathed in the cool and fresh air, damp from heavy morning dew. Hearing a rustle of grass and the snap of twigs, the dog came running up to Josh again, panting and sniffing around his legs. 

            “Harv, Harv leave him be,” commanded a male voice. The dog sat down right there and looked up at Josh with expectations as his owner trudged around the back of the car. “That dog is just too friendly sometimes,” said a thin, tall man carrying a vintage pump shotgun. 

            “Nature of the breed,” replied Josh putting on a smile while looking the man in the face to avoid focusing on the menacing gun. “I think they were bred to be friendly and loyal.”

            “So do you have one of these guys?” The man said, pointing an elbow toward the dog.

            “No, but a close friend had a Lab who loved everyone. My friend couldn’t keep the dog from greeting anyone within range.”   

            “Yeah, you know ‘em then. Oh, my name’s Tom, Tom Milfred. Nice parking spot you found here,” Tom said, looking at the car and then up into the canopy of oak. “I wouldn’t have even seen the car with that camo cover on it, but old Harv here, he checks everything out.”

            Tom wore a canvas type cap with some sort of farmer’s supply advertisement on it, a green vest over a flannel shirt, along with jeans and brown leather boots. He had brown hair that curled up around the cap’s headband and wore a bristly day-old salt and pepper beard. Josh wondered the purpose of the gun.

            “Ah, ah John Bailey, nice to meet you Tom,” Josh replied, eyeing up Tom’s shotgun. Mentally, Josh kicked himself for such a lame alias and not thinking about it ahead of time.  Hesitating, he added, “What are you hunting out here?” 

            “Oh, pheasant maybe, but I’ll never get close enough to shoot one with happy old, clumsy Harv here. Actually, just another reason to get out of the house. The wife is going through that change of life thing and now she thinks she is the boss and runs everything.  Just better if I stay out of the house as much as I can,” Tom said with a smirk.   

             “Harvey?” Josh asked, pointing to the dog. 

            “Well no, not really, just Harv,” Tom said, patting Harv’s head. “Going to be a nice day,” Tom said. “So�"John, where you headed and what brought you here?” Tom asked, pivoting around on a heel. “Don’t see many people back here.” 

             Josh wondered if Tom’s question was a red flag. Should he worry? Coming up with a quick explanation, he said, “oh, heading out west for a reunion of old friends.  I’m traveling light with a minimum of stops and just thought I’d pull off the road far enough not to be bothered,” Josh’s real reason sent another flare into the pit of his stomach. He tried to overcome the feeling and look relaxed by leaning back on the rear fender of his car. He reached out his arms and laid his hands on the ends of the spoiler. Something didn’t seem right. He looked at the rear of his car from one side to the other. “What…do I have a wheel in a hole?” He stepped to the low side of the car. “Oh, damn,” Josh said, kicking the tire, “it’s flat!”

            Tom bent down and looked under the back of the car. “You sure do and, hey, those are nice tires, huh, self-healers?”

            “Supposedly, high-speed, self-healing, smart tires, but they apparently can still go flat�"and all the money I paid for them!” Looking over the tire, Josh grabbed the top of the tire and waggled it back and forth with no real motive, just venting his hostility. “Now what am I going to do here in the middle of nowhere?” He looked to Tom. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that.” Tom didn’t reply as Josh kneeled down and peered under the back of the car at the inside of the tire. “Man! A deep slice in the sidewall down to the wheel. It must have been something in that mess I drove through by the highway. Probably would have been okay and fixed itself if I had hit whatever it was straight on the tread.”

            “No spare?” Tom asked. 

            Josh shook his head “No. No one ever needs one these days with these babies. At least I never thought I’d ever need one.” 

            “Well, on that sour note, how about some breakfast?”    

            “What, huh?” Josh said, taken aback by the hospitality

            “Come on over to the house with Harv and me, the wife will fix us some breakfast. It looks as you’re not going anywhere for a little while.”

            “But you said your wife�"”

            “Oh, she’s just that way with me and Harv; she’s downright friendly and hospitable to anyone else. Come on, John, it’s just a short walk to the house. Your car will be fine here.”

            “Okay great, thanks,” Josh said.

            Tom now did some eyeing over Josh’s car, at least taking in the shape under the cover but didn’t say anything about it and started walking. “Come on, Harv we’re going home.” Harv bounded out of some nearby shrubs giving up on the squirrel that he was bothering and bounded across the oak grove heading out the lane to the open fields. 

            Josh and Tom strolled away from the disabled car following happy-go-lucky Harv.  When they cleared the grove, Josh commented about the beautiful field of grain. The land on the other side opened up to vast rows of green crops, under a blue sky with an early morning scattering of popcorn cumulus clouds.  

            “Yeah, pretty nice with all those chemical fertilizers and pesticides. All these fields this way belong to Corporate Farms, Inc,” Tom said, with a sweep of an arm across the horizon. “This area over here,” he said, pointing the other direction, used to belong to my parents, all five-hundred acres plus.” 

            “What happened?”

            “Oh the usual, like almost every private owned farm in the US, just couldn’t compete with operations like this,” Tom replied with a thumb pointing to his right.  A complex of low-lying buildings strung out in the direction of Tom’s thumb. “Pretty impressive?” Tom said looking grim.

            “I guess so. I never paid much attention to the state of farming, and just took it like most, something to take for granted.  So what do you do, Tom? Josh asked. 

            “Well, I’m retired military after the third Persian Gulf War and the Homeland War; had enough of that sandbox fighting and glad the final one ended when it did, but now I’m sort of a garden farmer.” 

            “How’s that?”

            “I moved back here after my parents gave up and decided to move to Canada permanently for the better weather. They gave the place and the remaining seven acres to the kids and us, so that the kids would grow up wholesome! Yeah, right. Anyway, just my boy Tom Junior’s still at home during a break at ILU.  So I grow vegetables and sell them at the farmers market. Money’s not too bad. I guess I still have sort of a green thumb from growing up on the farm, even though I hated it at the time.” The walked a few paces in silence before Tom turned to Josh. “So what’s your story, John?” Tom asked, opening a metal gate and holding it open for Josh to walk through.

Josh still had a bit of trepidation over Tom’s intentions, but what could it hurt�"really. “My Mom and Dad have been gone since I was ten, so I had to live with an Aunt and Uncle out east. Can’t say I had a great adolescence, but surprisingly, I survived.”

            “So what do you do for a living?” Tom asked, turning to look at Josh in the eyes.

            Josh thought red flag again as he looked down at the dusty ground. He slowly formed a smile. “Well, you might not think too much of my occupation if I told you.”

             They stood there at the gate during a few overly quiet moments of dead silence. He saw Tom shift his eyes about and moved his shotgun in his arms. Josh heard the gun’s safety click off...