"All About the Benjamins" Chapter 8

Chapter 8
______________________________________________________________________________



The scene reopens back at the cabin. Rebel is stoking the fire when Kristie walks in.

"Why did you run away?" she demanded.

"I, I, I was embarrassed." He stammered. Staring at her shirt that was sticking to her still wet body. It contoured every curve of her voluptuous well-shaped figure like a second skin.




"But I wanted you to come in." She said with a disappointed tone. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

He wanted her that was clear, but it was also clear that she wanted him too. She continued talking, but he wasn't listening... his animalistic urges rose up from deep inside. He suddenly pulled Kristie into his arms and kissed her deeply and passionately.




Rebel stopped in mid-kiss and pulled away from Kristie quickly. He turned his face towards the window. confused and embarrassed, Kristie thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

"The guy is so weird." She thought to herself. "I'm really getting mixed signals here."

"Rebel, um, look," she started. "I'm sorry about this. I didn't mean to..." her voice trailed off.

"No, no that's not the problem."

"Well, if it's your wife... I certainly..."

"No, no that's not the problem." He interrupted raising his voice in astonishment.

"Well, then just what the hell is the problem?" Kristie insisted in agitating the question.

Rebel pointing out the window at the car coming up the driveway...



"It's Van Dawson." He shouted. "How did he find us?"

Kristie stood in silence without making eye contact.

"How the Hell did he find us?" Rebel raised his voice even louder.

"How the hell do I know?" Kristie shouted back.

Rebel stared her down with a suspicious glare, in the same vein as the old adage, 'If looks could kill, there would be a lot more dead people'.

"Get in the bedroom... Now!" he ordered vociferously, and in one swiping motion he grabbed her by her upper arm, his hand wrapping hotly around her slender bare skin. His strength and her lightness, the violence of that physics like a ballet spiraling out of control unexpectedly practically flung her through the air. Her breasts shaking through her wet tank-top as he grabbed her only added to his consternation. His heart was pounding. He felt a surge of energy, blood and adrenalin rushing through him as he pushed her all the way to the room.

"Okay Kristie, here's the plan. When I give the word, climb out the window, run for the car, start the engine and wait for me... You got it?"

"Yeah, I think so" She answers, her voice quivering in trepidation, aroused by the impending danger.

Rebel turned to walk away, but his eyes once again caught a glimpse of Kristie's wet shirt, her bountiful bosom and protruding nipples. The image of her breasts swaying under her shirt, the effect it had on him, was fleeting but what it generated in him was a beginning to an end. Kristie seemed to sense it.

Rebel's uncontrollable animalistic desire to throw Kristie on the bed, rip her clothes off and take what he so desperately wanted, was only matched by an overwhelming frustration, exacerbated by that copious predicament standing out on his front lawn.

He searched the farthest reaches of his mind for some meaningful encouraging word or phrase, but unfortunately the only precepts he could impart at this point was to wave his pointed finger and stammer an authoritative command,

"And put on a bra for crying out loud!"

Rebel once more turned his attention out the window and saw the three men standing in a grove of pine trees.



Sunset was breaking over the ridges of the mountains in the west. The last rays of the afternoon sun were already dying. He knew the sun wouldn't be shining much longer; shadows were already lengthening, swallowing the light.

Outside Van Dawson and his boys stood watching a small cabin. A thin wisp of smoke curled out of its chimney. The day began several hours before for these men, as their foggy eyes and haggard bodies could attest. The long silent ride wore on their bodies and tempers.

Dawson belched. The sweet aromas of pine needles and sage were replaced by the stench of bacon and beans. Marlon urinated against a tree, while Danny had his arm in a cast and sling from his earlier confrontation with Rebel.

Van Dawson, a gruff, beast of a man stinking of whiskey and body odor from the long ride. He grabbed his rifle and checked to make sure it was loaded and ready for use.



Noting his action, the other men each performed their own rituals to check their rifles, extra ammunition, and sidearms. When each was satisfied with the condition of their equipment, they resumed their silent vigil.

After a few minutes, Van Dawson said...

"Marlon... search the car, then go round back. Let's get this over with."

What am I searching for?"

"A suitcase with money in it, you stinkin' idiot!" He shouted, barely above a whisper.

"Oh yeah." Marlon nodded and moved off through the trees.

Danny said, "Pops, how we gonna get in there without being seen?"

"You just stick with me. We're gonna have to move fast. Just make sure you do your part." Dawson said.

They walked hunched over toward the cabin. As they neared the edge of the trees Dawson slowed and got down on one knee.



He watched the cabin intently. He nodded his head, spat, and said...

"Let's go."

The two men inched toward the front of the house, Dawson was breathing hard, due as much to his ample size as to the tension of the situation. He leaned toward Danny and said...

"Ready?"

Danny, looking like he had just been kicked in the stomach, swallowed the bile rising in his throat nodded, licked his lips and kept repeating

"Here we go. Here we go."

"Shut up!" Dawson whispered.

Danny stifled his mumbling and nodded again.

"OK. OK. I'm ready."

"Follow me." Dawson said.



Squaring his body to the door, Dawson raised one of his beefy legs and kicked at the crude lock. The bare wood of the door splintered under the load and it swung inward on its brass hinges. Both men moved through the door, rifles ready.

Rebel stepped into the bedroom doorway. With his gun hidden behind his back...

"Heeeeey, Mr. Dawson," Rebel tries a halfhearted laugh. "Fancy meeting you here."

Dawson leveled his rifle at the Rebel's chest and said "It's payback, asshole."

Rebel's eyes widened in terror as Dawson jerked the rifle's trigger and the weapon thundered.



Rebel leaped suddenly and in one motion back into the bedroom slamming the door just as Dawson's bullet blew a hole in it ten inches in diameter.

"Go, go, go!" Rebel yelled at Kristie while jamming his gun through the hole and returning gunfire in the general vicinity.



Dawson managed to retreat safely out the front door returning a couple of shots of his own. He crouched low duck walking, as he neared the sole window. Dawson stuck his head around the south side and waved toward the trees. Marlon raised his head up from his hiding place, nodded to his father and laid a horse blanket across a large rock to use as a shooting rest. He brought his rifle to bear on the south side of the house.

Dawson then turned his attention to his youngest. Not finding him immediately and then suddenly seeing him lying on the ground. A small circle of blood was visible on the front of his shirt, and much more was splattered across the ground around him.



"Nooo!!!" the Kingpin screamed, scrambling forward off the porch half jogging, half stumbling forward, his boots sinking into the soft earth. He covered the distance quickly. Marlon heard the screams and came running.

Meanwhile Kristie ran for the car. Dawson heard the car door slam and the engine turning over and over.

"Oh, shit!" Kristie exclaimed. "The car won't start."



[The scene fades to black as the sound of a car engine turning over and over.]