Chapter 9

Tobe's ambitions grew after Marty came into the picture, although he still couldn't be described as aggressive. He still remembered the day they met. Fumbling to pay for the ride into town, fearful she would refuse to see him again, and even more frightened she might not. He avoided the question for so long she finally asked to see him again. To this day he still didn't know what she saw in him, but he had never been happier, or more secure in any of the relationships which had freckled his life. His personal ambitions still weren't the type to write home about, but for the first time in his life he was not looking ahead one day at a time. Now he was endeavoring to build a business to support a wife and family, and do so in perpetuity. " In Perpetuity. " He often caught himself saying it aloud. " In Perpetuity." Forever. Never ending. Without end.

Echoes following the repeated theme continued their ricochetting dance as he installed himself in the only creature comfort he allowed in his "office," an executive model black leather rolling chair. It wasn't until Frank answered that the impervious bubble shrank back inside, and he returned to the world of tedium.

" Short Buildings, Inc. no job is too tall. Frank Short Junior speaking. May I help you. "

" Say again Frankie. " Even after twenty-seven years of friendship he continued to enjoy hearing little Frankie Short invoke the jingle his father had come up with when kids in the school yard picked on his son about his father's ' short buildings.'

" Hey, Toby how goes it. You ready to start building your shop, or are you a little short too. " Frank's sense of humor was, as ever, unfaltering even though the business was in danger of collapsing around his ears.

" No, Frankie. Today I am on top of the world."

" Well, stands to reason Toby, from my perspective you've always been on top of the world. Hell, between your good looking wife and all the extra leg you grew into, I'll always be looking up at you. "

Frank's lengthy wit more than made up for his deficiency in height. He never stopped joking about the growth spurt he had not gotten, and never failed to pick on those whose growth hadn't been stolen by the Grinch along with Christmas one year. At five two and a quarter and 120 pounds Frank Short's body lived up to, or down to, his name, but his heart, and compassion for those more unfortunate than himself would dwarf a person three times his size.

" Up at me maybe, but I'll forever look up to you Frank. That's beside the point. I've got a deal for you. I talked to Josh Hardesty today, and he made an offer that sounds good to me. First though, I need to know how much you need to renew your liability, and get started on this job."

" What..."

" Don't interrupt me little fellah. I know you are having problems. I know the damned insurance companies have upped your premiums again, and unless you get some liquid right now, you are going under. That gives me a foot up."

" Make it two feet buster, you already had one."

" Seriously Frank I know you have a bad cash flow problem right now, and I am in a position to help, and to take advantage, in a small way, seeing as how you have been caught a little short."

" OUCH! You caught me good with that one Toby. I can't believe this. You the big white hunter, hitting litt..."

" Frank. "

" You always spoil my fun Tobe. OK. I need 13,650 for continuing coverage on the other jobs I have going. I need 10 for the current materials, 16,200 for taxes, including a penalty. Let's see... with what I have I figure I lack about 18,500. Now that you know the details of my Dun and Bradstreet what are you going to do, sit and gloat. "

Tobe knew the current difficulties embroiling his friend made a difference, but he did not know how close to the edge his friend was until Frank uncharacteristically spit out the last sentence.

" Frank, I'm sorry, but I need to know how much to get from Josh. He said I could get the whole amount, but the interest rate would eat me alive. He came up with an idea to will help all three of us, but I have to find out exactly what you need to keep going so I can borrow it at 18% on a short term note, then get the long term loan when the rates bottom out or when the short term loan matures. That way I can help you, you can help me, and we can maybe still stay friends?"

" Sorry Tobe. I'm hurtin'. That's for true. But it galls me to let friends know how bad I'm hurtin'. Hell, you know I've always been that way. "

" Yea. I know Frankie. I just hope you know how much your friendship means to me. How much I really want to help. But to help I have to know how much you need. OKay?"

" OK. Friend. " Frank paused for a moment as he scribbled figures on the legal pad which occupied the only clear space on his desk. " Tobe. to get out of the bind I'm in, and to be able to start on your shop I would need the 18,500 and 10% to start your job, so make it 31,500. But you're going to have to feed me and the boys until you get the rest. " The last was said with a chuckle to let Tobe know things were alright.

" Frank, I don't know. Would you settle for 35 and dinners on Saturday. "

" Twist my a... CLICK... HISSS...

" Hello. Frank? Are you still there? Frank? God damn phone company. "

Clicks were all he got as he tried again and again for an open line. His frustration was lighthearted, in a way, because he held the phone company in contempt, but too many things had gone well to stay upset about something as incidental as Ma Bell. Instead his thoughts went to the plans covering the wall beside his desk. He soon became engrossed in the petty details involved in moving to, and stocking his new store. Even the sonic boom and following rumble did not make an impression on other than his subconscious.

The, so called, survivalist rage had dwindled somewhat in the months past, and many of the items on the wish list for the new store had gone down in price, according to the new issue of Shotgun News. Tobe scrabbled around the clutter on his desk and failed to find the most current issue. He stood, scanned the cluttered interior of his shop, and then remembered what had happened to the missing periodical. Josh picked it up along with the financial proposals for the new shop and took it into the house when the two went to lunch. He mentally kicked himself for not having brought it back when they returned, especially since he did remembered to bring the other papers. But this would give him the opportunity to tell Marty the news about the loans, and to thank her for a truly wonderful meal prepared on such short notice.

He closed the thick oaken door of the shop to reset the telltale alarm which would alert him if the door was opened while he was inside. The telltale was not meant to prevent burglaries, but was a measure allowing him to be in the house, if needed, during business hours without closing. He didn't expect to be gone very long from the shop, but with the large assortment of weapons inside it was a precaution he observed religiously.

He took his time in traversing half of the distance to the three story house, thinking in generalities, whistling tunelessly simply taking a vicarious pleasure in the warm spring air and sunshine. He gazed at the clouds, stark white puffs of cumulus far off to the north and west, slowly building to a huge, ominous black thunderhead. Though there was nothing blemishing the smooth gravel-filled lot, his step faltered as he came into full view of the remarkably tall, black and red tinged cloud connected to the ground by a massive pillar of orange and brown fire. He stopped. Slack jawed he stared as the impossible took firmer shape before him.

He found himself back at the door of the shop with only vague memories of the slips and skids returning him there. He wrenched open the screen and slammed against the massive wooden door sending it bouncing into its stoplock. It took only three lengthy strides to cross the room, and one more to place him next to the cabinet, his destination. He tossed a box of forms between his legs, and stooped further to reach into the depths of the bottom shelf and retrieve an age stained wooden box.

The original printing had long faded into meaningless patches of black, and dots of red. The dovetailed design of interlocking knuckles of flame cured teak had maintained its strength and integrity long after the labels flaked away. The twist-clasp lock still turned with an ease which bespoke the care of its construction. Once opened a speckled gray box, peeked into view, topped with lenses, switches, and a centrally located meter graduated from one to five hundred, and labeled mR/R.

At the opposite end of the felt lined container was a panel, simple finger hole in one side. Tobe flipped the panel up and pulled out a jumble of leather straps, and a sealed plastic package. He upended the box and caught the falling gray cube. He opened the mottled case with the aid of a handy phillips screw driver. A plate at the base of the unit swung out to reveal a recess into which the contents of the plastic wrapped package fit snugly. After tightening the screws, and closing the panel, Tobe lifted the unit and wrapped it in the leather straps, a well made web designed for a box exactly the size of the gray metal unit. He flipped switches until a ruddy light illuminated the single meter, and the slim needle inside described a jerky path away from the zero pin. The needle moved back and forth on the white enameled face as if searching for something, then slowly steadied on a point well below the gradient marked 100. A great sigh escaped from Tobe's tight lips, and relief smoothed his face as he took the leather straps, and draped the longest one over his left shoulder. He stood, peered around the shop at the multitude of weapons and ammo, then with an intense wrinkle invading his brow he strode to the cash register, reached beneath it and extracted a dull black auto-loading pistol. Allowing the box to swing heavily at his side, he checked the pistol load, the clip and safety and placed the weapon behind his belt before retracing his steps out of the shop.