REBEL WORLD Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sheriff Matt Jones took another sip of the scalding black coffee, swishing it around in his mouth to dislodge some of the tobacco pieces still clinging stubbornly between his brown stained teeth. His night shift deputy, Loco Joe, as they called him, had been called to Tupelo to testify at a trial the next day, so he'd been stuck on the damn graveyard shift.
Well, one night won't kill me, he thought, glancing at his watch to see if it was nearing time for another check of his patrol area. It was four-sixteen A.M. He didn't like keeping to a routine schedule, in fact, the police academy recommended staggering patrols so that the crooks wouldn't catch you in a pattern.
Shit! Common sense, he thought. Ain't been to no damn police academy and ain't planning on going. That's for smart-ass deputies and city cops. He stood up and reached for his jacket hanging on a nail. A sudden wave of nausea swept over him, forcing him to sit back down heavily into the chair. The lights in the station fluttered quickly then went out. The emergency light over the door suddenly came on flooding the office with an ugly yellow glow.
"Just what I need," he spat, "another damn power failure. Every son of a bitch in town'll be calling here bugging the shit outta me."
He walked over to the window, cracked the dirty venetian blinds and looked east towards town. Not a single light anywhere. He waddled into the next room, keyed the mike and called for his other deputy, Sam Little, who was sharing the shift with him.
"Sam, this is Matt," he called, again hearing the familiar static.
"Matt, Sam over," came a hasty reply from the squawk box.
"Just got another power failure." Matt reached for the Chattanooga Chew bag in his vest pocket. "You still down near the armory?"
"Yeah Matt, been here a couple of hours now. Ain't been nothing but a few tractor-trailers gone by."
"Cruise on up to the square and circle around a few times. Most likely nobody around but it'll keep any would-be looters layin' low. I'll get on the horn to the power company and get a line on what the trouble is. When you finish with the square, run over to the hospital and tell Deke Jacobs to put the volunteer fire department on call."
"Got ya Matt," came the static laden reply. "On my way."
Matt hung the mike up, reached into the tobacco bag and took out a large wad of the moist smelly tobacco and placed it firmly into the nicotine-numbed pocket of his jaw. He worked the tobacco around until it fit just right, spat towards the trashcan, and then grabbed the phone. There was no familiar buzzing tone. He jabbed the button a few times out of habit. Still no dial tone, not even static. He picked up the other phone, same thing.
Unusual, he thought. Phones and power don't normally go out at the same time.
"Matt, this is Sam, over."
Sam's voice came through the squawk box sounding choppy and nervous.
"Yeah Sam."
"Got Norman Childers here. I was turning out to head for the square when he came by like a bat outta hell. Must have been doing at least seventy, hauling his hay bailer behind the truck. Says something about the highway south of town being gone. He ain't been drinking near as I can tell."
Norman Childers hadn't touched a drop in his entire life, Matt thought. One of those church going hard working no nonsense types.
"Let me talk to Norman.”
"Ya gotta push this here button when ya talk and let go when you ain't," Matt heard on the other end of the radio.
"Hello, Matthew?"
"Norman, this is Sheriff Jones, "you in some kind of trouble?"
"Well Matthew." A high-pitched obviously nervous voice came from the box. "I was heading down to New Albany to see George Benton about trading bailers with him. Figured I'd get an early start cause George wanted to leave early this morning for a job down near Tupelo. We were planning this swap for a spell now. What with the weather and working and all, and my tractor acting up and with Sarah Jean being all up and sick..."
"Just tell me what the problem is Norman, I got a lot of work to do."
"Sure Matthew. Well, like I was saying, I was heading for New Albany, but when I got south of town to the overpass down on past the fairgrounds the road just quit."
"What do you mean, just quit. Was it washed out or blown up or something like that?"
"No. It just quit like it were never there and on the other side were these awful big trees. Big as them sequoias out west. I ain't never seen trees as big as them before Matthew."
"Let me talk to Sam, Norman,” Matt replied, irritation and fatigue heavy in his voice.
"Yeah Matt."
"Sam. Go with Norman to where he says the road disappears. Call me as soon as you get there and let me know what n' hell he's talking about. Got that?"
"On my way Matt."