(Circa 1996)
It was the relentless hammering of nails that had woken the hunter up. He used to think he could have slept through anything life threw at him until fairly recently. Especially not anything in this damn village could have disturbed his rest like this. The man stared at his coffee in a daze, trying to make sense of his tiredness and failing.
It made no damn sense. He'd been up at the crack of dawn on countless hunts against the most deadly game imaginable. He'd stared death in the face and laughed, watching the eyes of the true predators stare right back. Those days he would trek twelve hours in hundred-degree weather with a full pack carrying a shitload of damn tourists through the Savannah. Yet in all his life, nothing had disturbed Robert Muldoon more then the drumming of the nails this morning.
He looked around at the rest of the bar, everybody falling into their morning patterns already. How could they not hear it? Maybe they heard but chose to ignore it was what they did. After all in a village this small, everybody knew his neighbor quite well. Probably even down to their damn family history too. So if they stayed out of arguments, there would be no animosity in the village.
Muldoon considered this as he attempted to force more of the coffee down his throat. Really vile stuff. He knew they made it locally because there was really no way to make the commercial stuff taste this bad. He might as well be drinking canned shit for all the flavor this had. He stood up from his table, and kicked the chair to the side.
As Muldoon walked up to the bar, he dumped the rest of the coffee in the trash can. He slammed the empty mug on the bar, calling the bartender over.
Damn that guy was quick, already knew exactly what he wanted.
"Your usual sir?" The man said, scrambling already to the back of the racks. Muldoon nodded, absentmindedly.
Reaching into his pocket he grabbed a few coins out and threw them on the table. "Good man, Jophrey", he said without thinking. Taking the drink the bartender had set for him, he turned in his barstool to face the crowd.
Not that much life in here this time of morning, but that was pretty much to be expected. "So Jophrey," he said because he was bored. "Why'd he have to start today? I thought that damn asshole wasn't due to start for another week?"
Jophrey just shrugged, quickly shuffling the coins off of the bar and into his pocket. "People speed up I guess, it's normal."
Muldoon took another swig of the whiskey. "The hell it is." It was still pretty bad, but it did take the edge off of the coffee and that was all that mattered. At least here in his middle years, when he was starting to get cranky.
He shook his head, damn fine stuff, even if it did taste like piss. He spoke half to the village, half to himself and a third to the bottle. "I wish I knew how to quit you." He chuckled, setting the Whiskey down on the counter.
"Well, if the damn fool won't listen to no man, maybe he'll listen to me." He said loudly, "Where he at? I want to talk to him!" Muldoon had been in this damn village for six months, but still hadn't gotten the lay of the land.
Ah hell, retirement was a bitch, or so they said anyway. He slowly got down from the barstool, needing to stabilize himself with the edge of the bar.
"Never go near the place myself," Jophrey said in a low voice, almost a whisper. Right by the edge of the jungle, I'm told. People go in there deep enough,
they hear owls hooting in the daytime. It's not natural."
Superstitious asshole, Muldoon should have known really. "There's nothing scary, no boogeyman and I'm going to prove it." He was feeling really better know, since the whiskey was making its way through his system.
"Geddatta my way," he mumbled, as he nearly crashed into the nearest table trying to walk out the door. "Gonna have a talk with him, tell him that in this country…"
He squinted as he suddenly burst out into the daylight. He could hear the hammering louder now; it was coming from the western side of the village. Ah hell, he knew something like this was going to come sooner or later.
It was that much of a walk, and he pinpointed the location pretty easily just following the noises of construction. From the sound of it the Asshole had rounded up at least four more chumps to help him out with his thing. Fine, Muldoon thought, taking another swig of the Alcohol.
There could be ten dozen of them there and that wouldn't affect him that much. With his free hand he tilted his hat downwards, so that it shaded his face. Shit was about to go down, kids leave the things at home.
The workmen were going up and down the hill, like ants from a hive. Muldoon staggered a bit, as he tried to ascend, even though this was the jeep trail. He was sweating a bit, wondering why it was like this. Back in Africa he could have done this with no effort whatsoever, and be ready to run when over this.
He blamed this damn jungle; the humidity was getting to him here, even though he wasn't even in the shade of the trees. Especially his knees, but that shouldn't matter that much because he was almost over the ridge now. How the hell did Jeeps even get up this piece of shit, four wheel drive?
As Muldoon crested the ridge the sound of hammering grew louder until it filled his ears. He dropped the whiskey bottle in disgust, watching only halfheartedly as it rolled down the hill, off the side of the road.
Turning back, he saw what all the fuss was about. "Mother of God," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth with his anger. Of course, the asshole had to do it today, of course. Why not tomorrow?
At the very summit of the hill there was a large barn still obviously in the beginning phases of construction. The only way you could tell it was supposed to be a barn though, was because the huge doors were already cut and set to one side. What else could it honestly be?
"All right," Muldoon growled as he walked around the perimeter of the building. "Where is he? I just want to talk with him!" He was more than a bit agitated, though it was hard to tell how much of that was the liquor talking.
"What's all the ruckus now?" That seemed to come from somewhere above him, and as Muldoon looked up, he saw one of the workmen up on the platform. "If you're looking for Dieguito he's in the house."
Muldoon turned around, sure enough there was a medium sized house not five paces away from where he stood. Shit, he thought, the man doesn't even have the brains to oversee his own operation.
Storming angrily over to the house, Muldoon knocked on the door as hard as he could. He wanted to break the damn door down that was how angry he was right now.
"In a second!" He heard a door slam somewhere in there, as if in a hurry. Well as long as the man got his ass into gear, Muldoon would only give him half a piece of his mind.
Door opened, and a tall Hispanic man stared back out at him. Shit, not even like the guys from this village. Looked like he was from the coast or something. Muldoon just had that feeling, maybe from the way he was standing or something.
"Sorry," the man said, "I was just a bit busy." He leaned a bit in the doorway, breathing heavily, as if he was very tired.
Well if that don't make two of us. Muldoon thought to himself, shaking his head. "What the hell is up with your little shop class project?" He just was about ready to vent on this little asshole for making such a big ruckus.
"Whoah woah," Dieguito put up his hands to try to calm him down. "Why don't you just sit down by the side out there and I'll be out in a minute."
Muldoon squinted, seeing the man's hands were bleeding just a bit from the side. Well it was good to see the man was actually getting off his ass and working instead of just leaving all the work to the chumps outside.
"Hell no," Muldoon was absolutely firm now. "I'm not going to take any crap from a guy that can't even do basic yard work." He did step backward a bit, just in case the guy actually wanted to come out and clear things up a bit.
"Oh this…?" The man actually seemed a bit disturbed, as if seeing his bloody hands for the first time. "I was just feeding the birds is all, damn thing wouldn't take the food." He wiped his hands across his shirt, as if he were too distracted to care.
"You know what?" Muldoon muttered to himself. "Can you just can it for today at least?" He was quite tired by now, and he could feel the effects of the liquor starting to wear off.
The hangover would probably be too much for him, even now.
"Just save this shit for tomorrow if you're going to do it at all."
Dieguito shrugged, as if exasperated. "Whatever you say, Senor," he didn't sound all that enthusiastic about it either way. "Just call me back in the morning when you're over your hangover."
Smartass, Muldoon thought to himself as he walked away. He decided to just come back the next day, give him the same piece of his mind. At least that's what he was thinking just before his foot stepped on something hard while he was heading towards the road.
His first thought was that he'd stepped on the bottle and broken it, but that was impossible of course. Muldoon had seen the damn thing rolling all the way to the bottom of that hill, so there was no way in a million years…
He looked down, blinking again. The shock caused him to lift up the hat brim all the way to the top. Maybe no way in a million years… but maybe in Sixty-five million years.
Robert Muldoon bent down and removed the broken ovoid fragment from the mud. If he hadn't stepped just right there he would've never noticed it too.
He took a deep breath, taking a furtive look back at Dieguito's house. Yes the door was closed all right.
Carefully he put it into his jacket pocket, being careful not to crack it. Amazing what brought back memories, and in a place like this.
Something clicked in his head. The barn, the hands, it made sense now. It really all fit perfectly. But he was the only one who knew…aside from Dieguito.
But why do anything about it now? A slow smile crept over his features as a thought struck him. This could be the cure to his slump, the feeling he couldn't
shake ever since retiring to this dump.
It might take a while for this to pan out, if it did at all. But Muldoon would be ready for it. After all, he was a hunter; the wait was merely one part of it. The best part of all as an experienced guide like him could well attest too.
He wasn't going to bother this guy tomorrow oh no. Just let him think he'd forgotten and that it was all suddenly okay now.
Muldoon turned back to look at the barn before heading down the hill. He knew there was no way in hell that asshole was a farmer, no way in hell. In a way that actually thrilled him, one last squeeze of energy from that liquid courage.
The wait…
It was time to live dangerously.