Snow Job
DISCLAIMER: This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights are intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and are not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.Part Four
Like a reluctant four-year-old demanding to stay at Toys-R-Us, Earl whined as Sam dragged him out into the blustering weather. "Lord, see us out of this darkness. May your heavenly light shine upon the wickedness that we are to confront."
Once outside, Sam watched Al trudging ahead trying to get through the snow that was knee high at the very least. Regardless, Al walked through it as if the snow knew better than to get in his way. He managed to get into the office and out of the snow and cold. Too many years in hot weather made dealing with winter a hardship he didn't appreciate. Though he knew all the electricity was out, he had to try the light switch - even though it was already flipped up. "Yeah, like my trying it is going to make it all better."
The darkness had him relying on the memory of his five minutes inside the bug-light lit space. There was a table with a magazine somewhere near where he was walking. "Ow!" His throbbing foot told him he was a little closer than he thought. "Damn!" He wiggled the stubbed toes to dissolve the annoying sting. "Okay, so I found the table. That means the stove is about four paces to my right." He took four steps and tentatively put his hands out to find his target and there it was. There was still a bit of warmth coming from it. "Good." His hand reached into his inside coat pocket and he found a cigar and his lighter. The cigar was safe for the time being. Mostly he wanted to get some source of light in the room. A small flame doesn't do a lot, but he saw a door leading to another room. The lighter flicked off and made his way into the new space. He flipped the lighter again. It was a storeroom. Toward the back was a sink. No heat could freeze pipes and the one thing he wanted as much as heat was water. The faucet was still working and he left it trickling to ensure the water supply. An old wooden chair sat to the side offering a short source of fuel for the stove.
What he really wanted was a flashlight with batteries that still had life in them. The lighter got hot and he had to let it cool before he burned his fingers, but off to the side he thought he saw what he coveted. His hands touched the rickety shelving and with a lot of tentativeness, he started blindly groping for what he hoped he had seen. "Flashlight, please be here." Gloved fingers hit something. He reached for it and it felt right. "Yes! Excellent!" He toggled the switch and a beam powered by recollections of a memory of a real light sort of glowed a dull, dull yellow. "Damn." It wasn't much, but he quickly made his way around the store room, locating a short supply of lumber, a box of refills for the vending machine (mostly condoms) and three candles in plastic net-covered glass jars, the kind Ruthie used to put outside when she wanted to keep mosquitoes away. They had a name, but it escaped him. He didn't care. One hand grabbed the three jars and he heard Sam entering with Reverend Earl. He turned back toward the door and saw a dead spider the size of a small toad. "Holy shit!"
Earl heard the expletive from Al and sang out, "Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war." The wild eyes stared at Sam and even though it was too dark to see them, they bored into the scientist. "Dr. Beckett, join with me!"
Al whipped his head around to face Sam. "You start singing and I'll throw the both of you out of here. I like a good old-fashioned gospel fest, but I'm done being Satan. It's getting on my nerves." He put the candles on the small table. "Sit his ass down and keep him quiet."
Earl was relentless. He soared into the second verse. "At the sign of triumph Satan's host doth flee; On then, Christian soldiers, on to victory!" With no regard to Al's demands, he just kept going.
There were times when the Admiral's short fuse got out of control and Sam had developed a sense when it was going to explode. Al was close and Sam had to stage an intervention. He pulled his friend to the side, "Okay, the guy's a little over the top. We both know that, but just let him sing and he'll stay away from you." An actual growl came from Al's throat, "I know, I know, but you can tune people out better than anyone I know." The second growl sounded a bit more pit bullish. "Al, this guy is a bit odd, but he's not doing anything more than singing hymns." The truth of that diminished Al's growl to a mild curling of his lip. "So, just don't listen to him. Pretend he's Gooshie explaining how he rose to Wizard in Dungeons and Dragons."
"I hate that game."
"I know you do, so just pretend Earl there is trying to use his magic decoder ring to cross from one realm to another."
Al stared at where he thought Sam's face might be and burst out laughing. "What the hell did you get us into here? I am promising this to you, Beckett. You will never be allowed to live this one down. Do you get it? Never."
It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "I sort of knew that awhile ago."
"I bet you did."
Earl kept on going, "Like a mighty army moves the church of God; brothers,"
Sam joined in, "we are treading where the saints have trod."
"We are not divided, all one body we, one in hope and doctrine, one in charity."
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em so Al offered up his voice, "We are not divided, all one body we, one in hope and doctrine, one in charity. Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus going on before."
Earl stopped cold and dropped to his knees! "Praise the Lord! It is a miracle, a miracle in the snows! He sings the songs of the Lord!"
"Hell, if I'd a known that's all it took, I'd a joined in long ago."
"Praise God! He has seen the light!"
Earl was now delighting in the fact that he converted Satan's spawn. Sam pulled Al aside, "Too bad it's not really that easy to bring folks back."
"You know, Sam, sometimes folks that you think need to be brought back don't feel the same need even if the music is good. Now, there's some wood in the back room. Let's go get it."
For the first time in a long time, the admiral stunned Sam. He followed behind and thought something else needed saying. "I'm sorry, Al. I didn't mean anything."
He turned around and figured he was pretty much face to face with his buddy. "Listen, I'm sorry. I get a little cranky when things go wrong and you got to admit, things have gone way wrong here. I got to calm down. We have shelter, some bags of stuff that will pass for food, the water is running and looks like we have a working bathroom. All in all, this is the Atlanta Marriott compared to other places I've been." Maybe he'd done enough soul searching. "So, you just have him sing quiet. Anyhow, his little Satan fixation is going to get a workout once Bambi and Spike arrive. Wait till you meet these two. She's like Amazon woman and he makes me look big." Al started to chuckle. "Wait till Bambi gets a hold of you." The chuckle blew up into laughter. "She's a little . . . how should I put it . . . single minded?" He smiled big enough for Sam to see even in the dark. "No, she ain't interested in singles." Laughing louder at his joke, he left Sam terribly perplexed and a little scared.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you better start singing with Earl there. Maybe she'll find the one true path." He turned on the flashlight and scanned the room. To the side he saw the short pile of logs. "There. We got to get at least two loads of those out to the lobby, which is giving that room more respect than it deserves."
The two men managed to bring out the wood just as Bambi and Spike arrived. Al handed Sam his lighter. "Go light a candle, but just one of them. We don't how long we're going to be here."
Bambi started talking, "Why it's darker in here than a hooker's roots!"
Al elbowed his buddy. "She's a pearl among swine, Sam, a pearl among swine."
"Oh, boy." He lit the candle and citronella scented the room. Sam thought the smell was better than the reality. Then he finally got a glimpse of Bambi and Spike. His lower jaw dropped and his eyes got way too big. "Oh, boy."
The admiral knew they had heat, water, food, blankets, and each other. He finally found himself able to laugh again. "At least we won't be wanting for entertainment."
Spike carried in the blankets and pillows. "Admiral, sir, where do you want these?"
Al surveyed the surroundings. There was only one couch and while he thought Bambi was an interesting and probably very inventive woman, his chivalry told him to let her have the couch. The men would take up the floor. "You got the bedspread there?"
"Yes, sir."
The Admiral elbowed Sam. "Let's get all three bedspreads down on the floor for some padding." With Earl and Spike looking on, Sam and Al laid the spreads near the stove.
Sam pulled it back a bit. "Too close to the stove. These things would probably go up in flames in a second."
Nodding, Al agreed and tugged his side so that it lay about a foot from the rickety table holding the candle. "Good thinking. I've lived through too much to be caught dead here in South Bufu."
Spike laughed. "I ain't heard that since I left Great Lakes."
While the second spread was placed on the floor Al asked, "That where you were stationed?" Spike mumbled and hid himself in a far corner.
Bambi sidled over to Sam, "Oh, who cares where anyone is from?" Her face was inches from Sam's. "Only important thing is we're all here now." She drew her index finger down his nose. "You know what they say about men with strong noses."
He could only stutter, "Uh, n-no," and then laugh gingerly.
Al was back to having a good time. "Just think big feet, Sam, really big feet."
At full voice Earl started up again, "On a hill far away stands an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame;" He emphasized the word "shame" as he walked closer to Bambi.
The move wasn't lost on Bambi. She pulled away from Sam and stood in front of Reverend Johnstone, one fist on her hip and one hand waving a finger in his face. "Now, you listen to me, Earl. I don't want you singing those hymns around here. You drive out half my clientele every time you check in!"
Sam and Al looked at each other. Al found his tongue first. "You own this joint?"
"Al, sugar, this may not be the Ritz, but it got you out of the snow, didn't it?" She edged over and started with his curls again. "I love short men. They always have something to prove. You interested in proving things to me, Allie, honey?"
"Darling, I don't need to prove anything."
It was Sam's turn. "Just ask his five ex-wives." He continued stacking wood inside the stove. "The last one seemed to complain about everything except his ability to prove himself."
Al snarled, "Do you think you're helping me?"
Sam broke out laughing and fell on his butt. "Of course, not! Why on earth would I try to help you? You've been a pain in my ass since we left camp this morning." Looking back and still laughing he shook his head, "I had to. The opportunity presented itself and I had to take it."
Walking over, Al reached a hand out to his friend, "Yeah, I would have done the same thing." Sam reached up, took Al's hand and started pulling himself to his feet. "Yeah, Sam, I would have done the same thing." He slid his hand back and Sam landed on the floor with a reminiscent thud. "That sounds familiar, doesn't it, Bambi?"
Her attentions turned to Sam. "Bang, bang." She moved behind him, "I like big boys, too and you are quite the big boy, aren't you?"
It was Al's turn. "Hey, Bambi, did you know my friend there won the Nobel Prize for Physics?" He grabbed the questionable magazine he saw when they signed in and tore out about half a dozen pages. The pages rolled into kindling as Al lit the end and got the stove burning again.
She tried to slip her hands down into Sam's back pockets. "Yum, yum. Smart and with great big feet. What else could a girl want?"
Sam pushed her away. "How about an astronaut? The Admiral there flew to the moon on Christmas Day even! Now, what's better than that?"
Bambi laughed and put her hands on her generous hips. "I got me an embarrassment of riches!" Her eyes traveled from Al to Sam to Spike to Reverend Earl. "Well, three out of four ain't bad."
The stove began to glow a little. Al wasn't listening. His attention was his conquest of the wood stove. "We got heat - at least until the wood runs out. Let's hope the power comes on again soon."
Spike spoke up from his place in the corner of the room. He was sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs. "It might stay off for a few days. Not much out here and it ain't much of a priority for the county. Now, if we was on the main roads . . ."
Jumping in as if he didn't know the answer, "You mean this resort isn't on the main road?" He stomped his foot. "I can't believe it!"
Sam sighed loud and a bit too long for his point, but this was only the beginning of their communal survival of the storm of the century. "Okay, time for some rules."
Al started to fold up the blankets. "Yeah, you make us some rules, Sam."
"Every civilization has rules, Al. We need to figure out what we're going to do to get through this."
"Now we're a civilization? You go for it, kid. These should be good."
Sam used his hands to wave the group onto the bedspreads. "Okay, on the floor. Everyone."
They looked at each other, then at Sam and finally at the Admiral who sat down about a yard from Sam. Bambi sat between them saying, "This is cozy." She leaned toward Al. "Well, Admiral, sugar, what are these rules you want us to follow? Anything fun?"
"Bambi, I'm not the rule maker here. You got to ask the good doctor."
The word doctor added to Bambi's infatuation with Sam. "Mama always wanted me to marry a doctor. She'd be busting the seams of her girdle if I came home with you, honey."
Ignoring her was the only plan the world's most brilliant mind could come up with. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to take turns sleeping so that someone is always awake to watch the stove."
There was a twisted side to the Admiral. When the time was appropriate, he took every advantage of every word Sam said. This time he had to ask, "Now, what do you mean by sleep?"
Bambi nodded. "I'm an adventurous girl, but if you are all going to take turns I got to get a break in there somewhere."
Even in the dim light, they all could see Sam turning twelve shades of crimson. "That's not what I meant. Oh no, please, I would never . . ."
His stammering got Al and Bambi laughing. The motel owner leaned toward Al, "He's easy."
"Depends on what you mean by easy, but yes. He's so easy it gets embarrassing sometimes."
Sam had to work on ignoring both of them now. "It's early yet, so who would like to try and . . ." He was about to say sleep, but thought better of it. "Try and rest a bit."
Bambi stood up. "It's too early for sleep. Let me go get us something to eat. You all hungry?" A general mumbling had them agreeing. Something to eat sounded good. "Let me see what I can find. Hand me that flashlight, Admiral, darlin'." He handed it up to her. "Now, don't you all go anywhere." Flashlight in hand, Bambi went into the back room.
Looking around the room, Al saw Spike still hanging out in the far corner. "Spike, what's so interesting over there?"
"Nothing, sir."
"I told you, there's no need for the 'sir' stuff. We're not in uniform and we're nowhere near a military installation."
"Yes, sir."
Whispering to Sam Al had to admit, "Damn, we're good at brainwashing, aren't we?"
"Some bright morning, when this life is o'er, I'll fly away, to a home on God's celestial shore! I'll fly away. I'll fly . . ."
Earl continued his song while. Al just lay back on the bedspreads, his eyes to the ceiling. "God in heaven, please get me out of this as soon as you can."
Bambi bounced back into the room. "I found three cans of corned beef hash. Anyone hungry? Got some chicken noodle soup too."
Al's head popped up like a puppy hearing kibble dropping into a bowl. "You have something to heat up that hash in?"
With a can of hash and a pan in her hands, she winked at Al. "Got me a skillet."
"I bet you do." Al sprung to his feet and took a can of hash from Bambi. It was almost industrial weight. "Good grief, you go through this much hash out here?"
"Only when the fleet's in." She tucked her elbow into his ribs. "Anchors aweigh, m'boys, anchors aaaaaaaaaaaaa-weigh."
He took the hash and the skillet. "You got to have a can opener, right?"
Her free hand reached down into the depths of cleavage worthy of Mt. Rushmore, in between Teddy and Abe. "Right here. You know my motto - be prepared."
It was time for fun again. "Hello! You need some help with the excavation?"
Sam was appalled. "Al, don't talk to a lady like that."
Pulling the can opener from the depths, Bambi said, "Don't accuse me of being a lady. You'll stop all my fun." Looking at Al, she teased, "You can go mining anytime, but if we need plates, those are still in the store room.
Al put his hand in Bambi's. "Let's you and me go make dinner."
"You sure that's all you want to make, short stuff?"
He laughed out loud, "Yeah, darlin', that's all." Tugging gently, Al pulled a giggly Bambi toward the store room. "Let's get the plates."
An hour later, they'd finished the tub of hash and warmed up to the point that coats were taken off. Even Sam's cold, damp hair managed to dry out. Earl managed to stop singing long enough to fall asleep, but the snoring was noisier than the music. Spike, finding his forty winks, hadn't moved much from the corner. He was avoiding the Admiral like an ensign who slept with the SecNav's wife more than twice. Sam lay back on the bedspreads and curled into a ball joining the sleeping Reverend. Bambi wrapped herself in a blanket and took up the couch. At least she didn't snore. Al looked around and realized he was the only one who hadn't nodded off. He'd left his book in the room and with nothing to read and no one to talk to and not sleepy enough for a nap, there was nothing to do.
The Admiral looked around at his partners in crime and laughed. He couldn't have gathered an odder bunch if he tried. Sam would pay for his little, "I can drive in this snow," statement. So he added a few more logs to the stove. It seemed to be doing just fine. After half an hour of watching the stove work quite well, he lay back, put his hands behind his head and just a few minutes later, he also was asleep.
When he woke, it was dawn. He smelled something cooking and he recognized the scent of more hash. Everyone was awake. A hand wiped across one eye and then the other and then the first again. He wanted to be sure that he actually was seeing what he thought. The sun was shining! Earl was stirring the hash. Sam was absent, but Bambi was standing at the window shaking her head. Al walked to her side. "It looks livable out there finally."
"I hope so. That little Spike ain't nowhere around!" She pointed at relatively fresh footprints. "He's out there walking! Now, why in the world would he take off in this snow?"
"Got me."
"Yummy." She curled a little closer to him. "Now, that's a nice idea."
From behind he heard, "Good morning, Al. Notice anything different?"
The Admiral turned to see Sam standing near the store room door. Behind him, the room was illuminated. "Hey, we got power back!"
Sam wiped his hands on a paper towel. "Best I can tell it came on about two hours ago."
Pulling Bambi's hands out of his front pocket, Al walked over to his friend and quietly asked, "Was Spike gone by then?"
"Yeah, kind of weird. I woke up around five and he was gone. The power came on about half an hour ago. The heat is up and running. Phones seem to be working, too."
"You call the cops yet?"
"What for?"
Al sighed. "Because we're stranded out here and you have a rental car stuck in a ditch ten miles down the road."
"It's a quarter mile."
The hash sizzled as Earl stirred the pot. His never-ending hymn library resurrected, "When I'm dead and buried, don't you weep after me . . ."
Whispering to Sam, Al rolled his eyes. "There's a cheery little tune."
Bambi started toward the phone behind the front desk. "I'll give Cookie a call. She's the police dispatcher. I'll have her send someone here. Haven't seen Bobby Dean in a long time."
Al looked at Sam. Sam looked at Al. Together they asked, "Bobby Dean?"
The Admiral shook his head, yet again. "We're too far north for Deliverance, aren't we?"
"Yeah, way too far north."
The phone was ringing and Bambi started talking. "You boys are just too funny for words!"
Earl finished the chorus. "I don't want you to weep after me."
Off in Spike's corner of the room Al noticed his duffel bag. "You bring that in here?"
Sam looked to where Al was pointing. "No. I thought you brought it last night."
"Uh-uh." His heavy brows scrunched together. "Something is hinky here, Sam. Spike is gone and my duffel is here when it shouldn't be."
"You're looking for trouble when there isn't any."
Earl piped up, "Breakfast is served!"
Bambi finally got through to the police dispatcher. "Hey there, Cookie! How are things going for you? Bet you had a busy night with the boys, eh?" The gutsy laugh made her point. "Yeah, I know. It's all business for you and Bobby Dean." Earl brought her a plate of hash. "We're just fine, just fine. I got Earl Johnstone here and a couple of cutie-pies holed up from the snow. Just the cutest pair of snow bunnies you ever did see"
Al nudged Sam, "How you doing, cutie-pie?" A forkful of hash stuffed his face.
"Almost as well as you, snow bunny."
Bambi looked at the telephone with indignance. "Yes, of course, they're men! Good-looking ones too! Got me a doctor here and an astronaut." There was a long pause. "I am not lying. Got me a real live astronaut." She held the phone out and called, "Hey, Al honey, come tell Cookie here that you're a real live astronaut."
Al swallowed, put his plate and fork down and walked to Bambi. She handed him the phone. "Hello, Cookie. I was a real live astronaut. I left NASA two years ago." There was another pause. "Let's see. Do you remember the astronaut who did the moon landing on Christmas Day?" He listened for a few seconds. "Okay, good. I was that astronaut." The squeal coming from Cookie forced the phone from his ear. Once she seemed to be under control he told her, "I'm giving the phone back to Bambi. Nice talking to you." he walked back to his food and plunked his backside down on the floor.
Sam was laughing. "Sounds like you made her day."
"I have a way with women."
Wiping his face, Sam was still laughing. "So you keep telling me."
Bambi stayed on the phone. "I told you I had an astronaut." She ate more hash. "No, not like that, but I tried!" Her laughter was full and raucous, "You should have seen Spike go into conniptions when he saw my astronaut!" More hash filled her face. "Oh, okay. I'll hang on." Bambi turned to her audience. "Bobby Dean is on the radio. Cookie has to tell him what's happening here."
The lack of a conversation for Bambi brought out the reverend in Earl. "Brethren, we have survived Satan's snow." He jumped on the chair and spread his arms out wide. "Can I hear an Alleluia!" Apparently not. "Brethren, rejoice in God's glory! Can I hear an Alleluia?" More silence. "The devil has his foot in your mouths! Blast him away! Sing to the Lord!"
Being Italian, Al often agreed that when in Rome, do as the Romans. He popped to his feet and started singing with the gusto of a traveling revival meeting sort-of-holy man, "Gonna lay down my sword and shield down by the riverside." Earl began clapping in rhythm as Al got more and more into the old gospel tune. "I ain't gonna study war no more!"
The Reverend threw in an "Amen, brother!"
He finished the chorus with a flourish. "I ain't gonna study war no more." And as fast as he stood up, Al was back on the floor, his fork in his hand and more hash in his stomach. Sam was a bit stunned. "What's wrong, Sam? Maybe you should take a verse. You know it, don't you?"
"Sure, I do." Sam cleared his voice and sang out, "Gonna put on my golden shoes down by the riverside, down . . ." He stopped and looked very thoughtfully at Al. "Wait, you're the one with golden shoes."
Al laughed and leaned back until he was staring at the ceiling. "Damn straight!" He didn't move a muscle, but he found another song for this little competition. "Oh, dem golden slippers, oh, dem golden slippers. Golden slippers I'm gonna wear because they look so neat!"
The reveries stopped dead with a noise from Bambi that resembled a goose honking on its way south. "What?" She held the phone out, staring at it like it was a rattle snake hissing at a pony. "Well, you tell Bobby Dean to get his ass over here with that little snake in the grass. I got me the Admiral HERE! Bobby Dean's got a little ensign who told me his name was Spike. Let me tell you, girl, calling himself Spike was a dream that wasn't never going to come true. That boy wasn't more than a three-penny nail."
Al held his gut laughing. "I don't believe this." He looked up at Sam. "You find the keys to that car. When Bobby Dean gets here, maybe we can get it started up and get out of here. Chicago is calling. I need civilization."
His overcoat was lying across the check-in desk. Sam patted down his pockets and came up empty. "Can't find the keys. Do you have them, Al?"
"Why would I ask you to find them if I had them?" He realized what happened. "The little weasel! He took the car keys!" Then he panicked. "Shit." He sprang to his feet and got to his duffel before Sam had the chance to blink twice. Rummaging through it he grumbled and finally grumbled loud enough to be heard. "Damn, that twit stole my wallet." He rummaged a little more. "Did you put your wallet in here, too, Sam?" A slow, dumbfounded nod answered Al's question. He turned to Bambi. "You tell Cookie to get Bobby Dean here with Spike and then get a jail cell ready for me because I'm going to KILL HIM!"
Sam called to Bambi, "Tell Cookie that Spike might have stolen some things from us." He went to Al's side. "Listen, calm down. He has our stuff. The police have him. We're okay. Calm down."
Al kept muttering, "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him."
"You're not going to kill anyone."
Narrowed eyes stared the good doctor down. "Yes, I am. I'm going to kill Spike and then I'm going to kill you!" He parroted back Sam's words. "'I can drive in the snow, Al. No problem.' Well, it looks like we had a problem, doesn't it?"
All he could do was shake his head. "You know, you're either laughing at what's going on or you're plotting murders. Is there any middle ground for you?" He toyed with the Admiral. "I mean, you sound bipolar to me. Think you might be bipolar?"
Sam was right. Their stuff was on its way back and the culprit was already in police hands. "Okay, okay, you're right. I just have to calm down. I don't like getting taken and Spike is a Navy man. Taken by one of my own! He's going to have hell to pay in military court. The Navy doesn't like enlisted men stealing from admirals."
In the clear, crisp, cold distance, the group heard a siren blaring. It approached the motel. Bambi hung up the phone and looked out the window toward the nearby two lane highway. "Looks like Bobby Dean is closer than I thought."
There were several versions of Al Calavicci. One was the guy wearing red suspenders with teal blue slacks and a silver shirt dancing the night away at some hole-in-the-wall bar. There was the science guy who could spend eight hours going over one equation and wonder where the time went. The crazy Al would speed off on a motorcycle moving way too fast and taking turns way too sharp. And if he admitted it, there was even a kind of sentimental Al on those occasions that warranted it. Then there was the Admiral. Regardless of the situation, the clothing, the place, the environment, the people around him, when the Admiral showed up, everyone knew it. As the sirens wound down in front of the motel, the Admiral had definitely arrived. Even Reverend Earl stopped singing when he watched the metamorphosis. He may have been the smallest one in the room, but they all were just a little afraid.
Admiral Calavicci positioned himself as far from the front door as possible. This was for Spike's sake. They all heard the crunching of footsteps in the knee-high snow. The door opened slowly and in walked a silver-sunglassed cop over six-six holding onto the collar of a little ferret of a seaman. "Get your butt in there, Navy boy." He pushed Spike further into the room. The thief stood where he ended up and didn't take his eyes from the floor. "Hey, Bambi, looking good."
"Bobby Dean, you say the nicest things." She walked over to her thud partner. "See you found him. You find everything he took?"
"Took? I just thought he was AWOL. That's all the Navy warrant read." Bobby Dean put his hand on Spike's shoulder. "You got something to tell me?"
From the corner, Al barked, "Name, rank, serial number, sailor."
Bambi smiled, "Don't he sound like an Admiral, Bobby Dean?"
"Heck, I knew he was the Admiral when I walked in." The sheriff nudged Spike, "You not going to answer your superior officer, boy?"
The poor guy almost had tears in his eyes. "My real name?"
The disappointment in Bambi's face just wailed out a letdown. "You mean you're not Arnold de Beauvoir? I loved that name. It was so pretty." Smiling at Sam she confided, "That means Arnold the good-looking."
From the corner, Al barked, "Name, rank, serial number, sailor."
His lower teeth clicked rapidly with more than a little fear. "Glass, Jack Daniels, Seaman Apprentice, serial number D313442." Then he remembered to whom he was talking. "Sir. I forgot to say sir."
Al marched up to Spike and stuck his face half an inch from his. "You have something of mine, Seaman? I think you do. I think you have something belonging to my friend as well." The Admiral spoke to Bobby Dean. "He's not carrying, is he?"
Bobby Dean turned Spike to face him and patted the scared little guy's body. "Don't look like he's got a weapon, but I think he has a few too many wallets here." Handcuffs locked Spike's wrists behind his back. "Let's see what we can find on him."
Sam was an Eagle Scout. "Is he under arrest? Because if he isn't, you can't handcuff him like that, can you? And don't you have to read him his rights?"
Bobby Dean smiled, "I guess I should be official with it all. Can't have this tweak getting off scott-free because I didn't tell him he was under arrest." The cop continued pulling stolen items from Spike's pockets. "The Navy issued a warrant for him. Seems he's AWOL. So, Seaman, you have the right to remain silent. . ." and the officer finished Mirandizing as he pulled item after item from all sorts of pockets. "Looks like we have a few things that don't belong to us, don't it."
Finding some bit of courage Spike puffed up to say, "I refuse to answer on the grounds it might incriminate me."
Al backed off to let Bobby Dean do his job. "You're not testifying in court, Seaman. You're not under oath. You're just arrested."
Wallets littered the counter at the front desk. Spike pilfered a few more than just Sam's and Al's. Bambi shook her head and clucked like a fourth grade school teacher. "You been busy, Spike. I trusted you and look what you did? You stole from my best customers."
Bobby Dean opened up a wallet and read, "Looks like this one is his." He read the Navy id, "Yep. Glass, Jack Daniels. Now that is one hell of a name."
The Admiral stood in Spike's personal space again. "Why did they name you Jack Daniels?"
"They told mama I was a boy. She yelled Jack Daniels and the midwife put it down for my name. She was actually asking for a drink."
Al looked at Sam. Sam looked at Al. They both looked at the Glass of Jack Daniels in front of them. Bobby Dean handed over their wallets and the keys to the car. "Now, I got the tow truck coming to pull your rental out of the snow bank. They should be here with the car in about an hour or so. I'd like you both to stop at the station before you continue so we can finish up all the paper work, okay?"
Reverend Earl put his hand on his heart and his eyes to the sky and sang, "Oh, sinner man, where you gonna run to? Oh, sinner man, where you gonna run to? Oh, sinner man, where you gonna run to all on that day?"
Bobby Dean escorted Spike back out with a wink to Bambi. "See you later, sugar pie, right?"
"Just don't tell Cookie!" Bobby Dean and Spike disappeared. Bambi thought out loud, "I better be sure the vending machine is filled up again. That little Spike really did have stamina."
Earl brought out all the drama, "Lord says 'Sinner man, you should've been a praying.' Lord says 'Sinner man, you should've been a praying.' Lord says 'Sinner man, you should've been a praying all on that day.'"
Al wandered over to the couch, plunked himself down, put his hands on his head and leaned back to contemplate the last 24 hours. Earl still had a few more verses to get through. Bambi opened up the box of refills for the vending machine and stacked it by the door. It was surreal and absurd, a story Al could tell the grandchildren some day when and if he had grandchildren. "Did I ever tell you about the time your Uncle Sam said he could drive us to Chicago through the blizzard of the century? I didn't? Well, come on up here," and a grandchild or two would crawl onto his lap and he'd tickle them while he exaggerated about the singing Reverend Earl Johnstone and the noisy neighbors playing . . . playing . . . He tried to think how he could explain Bambi's and Spike's recreational activity to children. Then he smiled. Maybe the story of the Lick Me Motel wasn't a story for the grandkids, but it sure was a story.
Sam sat down next to his buddy. His bright eyes looked big and innocent. In all earnestness, he told Al, "You know, I really can drive in the snow."
The Admiral curled into a ball of laughter. "Just give it up, Sam. Give it up."
THE END
