A Peachy Plan Read online

  “Baby, you need to call your FBI friend,” Momma Peach told Michelle in an urgent tone.

  “I would, but what if this is even bigger than we think? Explosives, border crossings, a scientific formula? I'm afraid someone inside the FBI might be involved. If so, they may have Ridge Falls flagged, which means if I call my friend I might put his life in danger, Momma Peach.” Michelle gently squeezed Susan's shoulder. “The man's wife just gave birth to a newborn little girl. I wouldn't dare risk that baby losing her dad.”

  Thelma stared at Michelle and found a new respect for the woman. “You're a good cop, Michelle,” she spoke softly and took a sip of tea. “So what is your plan?”

  Sam gazed into Michelle's eyes and saw that his adopted daughter did not have a plan. “We sit tight and wait for the storm to end and then call the State Police,” Sam spoke for Michelle.

  “Well, we sit tight until the storm ends, but we'll skip calling the State Police,” Michelle corrected Sam with a respectful voice. “Right now I have no clue who we're dealing with and—”

  “And Michelle is thinking if she can capture the two men after Susan she might get a confession out of them,” Momma Peach said. “Right?”

  “Right,” Michelle confirmed. “It's vital I find out who the enemy is before I make any solid contacts. Whoever these two men are,” she pointed out, “they will not hesitate to kill anyone who opposes them in any way. I can't risk innocent lives and need to make sure the people I bring onboard understand who the enemy is.”

  “So what you're saying is,” Thelma said struggling to understand Michelle's reasoning, “is that…little Susan here is bait?”

  “We're flying solo right now, Thelma,” Michelle replied. “The men after Susan will try and use this storm to their advantage. I might as well attempt to turn the tables on them, right?” Michelle picked up her biscuit and took a small bite. “No matter where Susan runs to she will never be safe until those responsible for Charlene's death are brought to justice...or at least made public. Also, by doing this we'll make Susan a household name, which will force the people who are after her to back off.”

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck again. “Susan will never be safe as long as she has that formula, no matter how famous the media makes her.”

  “I'll….give the formula to whoever Michelle tells me to,” Susan promised.

  Michelle nodded and looked at Momma Peach. Momma Peach nodded back. “That formula could be our bulletproof vest,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, that formula sure could be,” Momma Peach said and took a big bite of fish. “As long as Susan has the formula hidden we have leverage. But, on the downside, the two men out to capture little Susan will think she told us something, which means we ain't gonna be let out of Ridge Falls alive.”

  “Which means,” Michelle finished, “we have to fight.”

  Sam slid his right hand down to his side and felt the gun holster attached to his belt. “You girls sure get into a world of trouble,” he said and looked at Thelma. “Thelma, I need to make a call. May I use your telephone? I didn't see a telephone in the living room. I would use my cell phone but I stopped getting reception about two hours ago.”

  “Phone's in the kitchen hanging beside the refrigerator,” Thelma pointed out. “Who are you needing to call?”

  “Millie,” Sam explained and looked at Michelle. “We can't sit solo,” he said. “I'll have Millie call the Georgia State Police and explain the situation and—”

  “No,” Michelle objected. “The Georgia State Police will only be forced to contact the Vermont State Patrol and the FBI. Sam, we don't know the extent of everyone involved. We have to be careful.”

  “Sitting here like blind ducks isn't my idea of being careful.”

  “I understand and I agree,” Michelle promised, “but right now we don't have a choice. Even if we did call the State Police or the FBI it would take them hours to mobilize and get to us and by then, assuming they can reach us in this storm, who would we know to trust? Could we really turn Susan over to strangers who might be on the take? We don't know who is involved, Sam, and I'm not going to risk Susan's life. She’s already been through so much and if Charlene’s not here to protect her anymore, then I will. I'm going to hope and pray the two men after her come to this farmhouse and then do everything within my power to take them down and get the answers I need.”

  Sam saw a roaring momma bear appear in Michelle. His chest puffed up with pride and his arguments faded. “Okay, tiger,” he said, “Old Sam is on board.”

  “I ain’t just standing on the dock waving at the boat,” Momma Peach pointed out and took another bite of fish. “I am definitely on board. Ms. Thelma?”

  Thelma took a sip of tea. “Thelma Dodge isn't going to let that sweet little baby be taken from this house without a fight. Now everyone eat before the food gets cold.”

  Susan raised her head, studied her protectors, and nervously began to eat her supper.

  “I feel like I'm trapped in a sardine can,” Sam complained to Momma Peach, standing beside the front window in the living room with his arms folded together. Momma Peach thought Sam looked tough and ready for action even though Sam personally felt ready for a good night’s sleep. “I'm tempted to take a walk outside and get some fresh, cold air into my lungs but I'm not stupid enough to think the danger we're facing has vanished into thin air.”

  Momma Peach tossed a piece of peppermint into her mouth and leaned back on the couch. Michelle was putting Susan to bed and Thelma was upstairs on her computer. “Well, Mr. Sam, the phone is still working and Ms. Thelma still has internet so that means we're okay for now. But I sure don't recommend going outside, no sir and no ma’am,” Momma Peach said and stretched her arms and yawned. “A good, long nap is required after a good supper like the one I just stuffed into my belly. My goodness, I could sleep for a week.”

  “I know what you mean,” Sam agreed and fought back a yawn. “My old body is ready for the hay after twelve hours. Wasn't always like that, either. Used to be I could go twenty-four hours without blinking an eye and then,” Sam shook his head at the storm raging outside, “my old body started slowing down on me without me knowing it. When I was younger I'd run from sunrise to sunset, going full speed. Now I'm blessed if I can make it past the evening news without dozing off in my recliner.”

  “I sure know what you mean,” Momma Peach said and placed her hands gently on her belly. “I like to close my eyes with the sun and wake up with the sun but life sure don't make it easy for me to do that, no sir and no ma’am.” Momma Peach yawned and closed her eyes. “Yes sir and yes ma’am,” she said in a voice slowly drifting off to sleep, “I have been running from Nevada to Alaska...to Georgia...crazy clown tried to stab me in...Georgia...now I’m...stuck in a...blizzard...”

  Sam watched Momma Peach drop off. He walked over to the couch, picked up a blue blanket folded over a light brown armchair, unfolded the blanket, and lovingly placed it over Momma Peach. “Sweet sleep, Momma Peach,” he smiled and returned back to the front window. As soon as he did, a hard thump hit the front porch. Sam swung his body around and yanked out his gun.

  Momma Peach jerked awake without realizing Sam had placed a blanket over her body. “Oh, the crazy clown done went and got poor Momma Peach!” she yelled and tried to bolt to her feet. When she did, the blanket wrapped around her feet. Momma Peach tumbled down onto the living room floor and began swinging her fists at the blanket. “Bring it on, you psycho clown!”

  “Momma Peach!” Sam yelled. He ran over to Momma Peach and began trying to untangle the blanket from around her body. Momma Peach, still dazed, thought Sam was the crazy clown and slugged him right in the face. Sam stumbled backward and bumped into a white lamp. He threw out his right hand and tried to catch the lamp but tripped over his feet and crashed down onto the floor. The lamp landed right in front of his and shattered. Sam stared at the lamp, closed his eyes, rubbed his chin, and then forced his way back up to his feet. “Momma Peach,
calm down, it's me, Sam,” he said.

  Momma Peach kicked the blanket off her and look up at Sam with wide, frantic eyes. “Mr. Sam?” she asked breathing hard, her chest rising and falling like a hill being pushed up and down by a mighty earthquake.

  “It's okay,” Sam softened his voice and knelt down. “Momma Peach, look into my eyes.”

  Momma Peach looked into Sam's eyes, feeling her heart leap out of her chest. “Oh...Mr. Sam,” she said slowly gaining control over her emotions. “I done went and punched a crazy clown, yes sir and yes ma’am.”

  “Actually, you slugged me,” Sam grinned and rubbed his chin. “That was some wallop.”

  Momma Peach's eyes grew wide. “Please don't say it's so,” she begged and crawled over to Sam and pulled his face into her chest and began rubbing his chin. “Oh, I went and slugged poor Mr. Sam.”

  “Uh...Momma Peach...”

  “Yes?” Momma Peach asked.

  “I...can't breathe,” Sam said gasping for air.

  “Oh,” Momma Peach said and let go of Sam.

  Sam leaned up and focused on the front door. “I heard a loud noise outside.”

  “Tree limb fell and hit the house,” Thelma said walking down the stairs. She spotted the broken lamp. “Got that lamp as a birthday present from Mom. Never liked it one bit anyway,” she said.

  Michelle appeared behind Thelma with her gun at the ready. “What happened? I heard something break but couldn't leave Susan,” she asked in a fierce tone.

  “Tree limb fell on the house...Momma Peach slugged me...I broke a lamp...everything is okay,” Sam explained and rubbed his chin again.

  Momma Peach felt ashamed of herself for punching Sam. She grabbed the blue blanket up off the floor and began folding it. “I sure am sorry for slugging you, Mr. Sam,” she apologized.

  Sam wrapped his left arm around Momma Peach and squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, you're practically my old lady,” he smiled and kissed Momma Peach's cheek. “You'll always be tops with me.”

  Momma Peach blushed. “Oh, Mr. Sam,” she said and waved the blanket at him. “You're being silly.”

  Sam kissed Momma Peach on her cheek again. “You're something special,” he said and walked back to the front window. “Except for the tree limb breaking and hitting the house it's been mighty quiet down here.”

  Michelle studied the downstairs area and slowly stuffed her gun into the holster around her right ankle. “I better get back to Susan. She was really scared.”

  Momma Peach watched Michelle vanish and then turned her eyes toward the kitchen. “I am awake and wanting some coffee,” she said. “Mr. Sam? Ms. Thelma? Anyone for coffee?”

  “I can use a cup of java,” Sam admitted.

  “Me, too,” Thelma agreed and walked with Momma Peach into the kitchen. “I was emailing an old friend of mine from the city,” she explained and opened a tan coffee jar full of fresh grounds. “This friend of mine is...a bit on the...kooky side.”

  Momma Peach began pouring water into the coffee pot. “Aren't we all,” she replied.

  Thelma nodded. “In one way or another, yes,” she said. “This friend of mine is into all kinds of crazy conspiracy theories. He thinks John F. Kennedy was killed by Lyndon Johnson in cahoots with the CIA, which is controlled by a secret group of bankers, of course,” Thelma explained and let out a tired sigh. “Personally, I always believed John F. Kennedy was killed by the government but never saw any sense in telling people every fool idea that comes through my head. What does the opinion of one woman matter to the world anyway?”

  Momma Peach watched Thelma fetch a coffee filter down from a cabinet. “Your opinion is not some fool idea. No ma’am. John F. Kennedy wasn't killed by some lone shooter, that man was killed by a whole bunch of folks that wanted him dead and most of them walked the halls of the White House. I know in my heart Martin Luther King Jr. was killed off by the government, too. Will I ever be able to prove what my gut tells me? Nah,” Momma Peach said and pointed up at the ceiling. “But God will judge the wicked, you can sure count on that. Now tell me more about this friend of yours.”

  Thelma placed the coffee filter into the back of the coffee pot and picked up a wooden scoop out of the coffee jar. “My friend is a special case, Momma Peach, so what he tells me I either take with a grain of salt or slowly digest his words to see if there's any protein in them,” Thelma explained. “Now, don't get mad at me, but I dished out a few facts about what's happening right here in Ridge Falls. I didn't mention any names or go into extreme details. I mostly gave out general information with a few pieces of gold dust attached.”

  “I would trust you with my life. If you think speaking to this friend of yours was the right path to set your feet on then I won't throw thorns down onto the ground.”

  Thelma looked into Momma Peach's sincere eyes and saw a love she desperately missed—and needed. “Thank you, Momma Peach. It's not often someone offers me encouragement. I'm grateful.”

  Momma Peach patted Thelma's shoulder. “Tell me what this friend of yours said.”

  Thelma focused on making the coffee. “There's a group called the Red Movement of Connected Asia, the RMCA. This group is categorized as hostile by the United Nations for violating the human rights of innocent people.”

  Momma Peach listened very carefully. “Hostile but not criminal or terroristic?” she asked.

  Thelma flipped on the coffee pot. “The RMCA is equivalent to an underground extremist group operating in the United States, a group protected by the Constitution. As an example, the group is known for recruiting violent protestors to disrupt free speech events. But,” Thelma emphasized, “this group is also funded by a political action committee whose purpose is to silence the opposing political party.” Thelma leaned back against the kitchen counter. “This extremist group is protected by some very corrupt people. However, in order to please the public, the group may be allowed to be marked as 'hostile' or 'extreme' or even ‘under investigation’. But it’s all a show of smoke and mirrors, and no action is taken to make arrests or disband the group.”

  Momma Peach walked her mind around Thelma's words. “This RMCA group is being protected by...the American government?”

  “No,” Thelma explained. “From what my friend told me, the RMCA is being protected by a group of men within the United Asian Front Committee, which is an organization run by China, South Korea, Japan, the Philippines, and a few others. The United Asian Front...and let me see if I can get this right...it’s a special committee that claims to be working on diplomatic matters, trade agreements, stuff like that, but their real mission is to build up a network of extremely powerful, private militias that, from what I understand, plan to overthrow governments and state militaries when the world economy crashes? That part I'm not so sure of. Seemed a little too far out for me.”

  Momma Peach rubbed her chin. “Let's back up a few steps and focus on this United Asian Front Committee,” she said. “This committee is funding the RMCA. Now tell me…exactly what kinds of errands does the RMCA run for the United Asian Front?”

  Thelma kept her arms folded and looked down at the kitchen floor. “I don’t know, Momma Peach, take it all with a grain of salt…but apparently, the RMCA is responsible for weapons and recruiting. There are tons of subgroups, Momma Peach, splintering off from the United Asian Front, and the RMCA is just one of them. Each group is well-organized and responsible for certain tasks. Of course, the United Nations dispenses a few wrist slaps to make people believe they are focused on the issue while in reality, they are turning a blind eye to the whole they. They might as well be part of the criminal operation!” Thelma shook her head. “Now I sound like a conspiracy nut.”

  “Nuts makes lots of sense sometimes,” Momma Peach pointed out and grew silent for a few minutes. When she spoke her voice grew very serious. “Do you think the RMCA sent the two killers out to fetch little Susan and that poor scientist?”

  “That’s why I contacted my friend. He’s always ranting abo
ut how the RMCA is known to be very hostile toward Christian organizations,” Thelma replied. “If Susan's mother helped that scientist escape, it's very likely the RMCA are the people that hunting Susan right now. I mean, Momma Peach, they are responsible for weapons, right? It seems to me they want whatever formula Susan has and won't stop until they have it. That formula must be pretty powerful.”

  “My, my,” Momma Peach grunted to herself, “what a wicked world we live in, yes sir and yes ma’am, what a wicked world.”

  Thelma glanced over her shoulder toward the coffee pot. “Momma Peach, what I've just told you comes from a man who thinks people are living in the center of the moon controlling the world's tide with a powerful laser.” She chuckled. “I like my friend and, deep down, he's a decent sort of guy. But let's face it, he's one cuckoo short of a clock.”

  “I don’t know…like you said before, chew on the words and see if they have any protein,” Momma Peach reminded Thelma. “Sometimes a person can spout a bunch of crazy nonsense but in the middle of it is the seed of something very smart.”

  “Yeah, that's true,” Thelma agreed. “I—” she began to say but stopped when the phone beside the refrigerator rang. “Phone still works.”

  “Expecting a call?”

  “Could be Mom?” Thelma answered the call. “Hello?” Momma Peach watched Thelma's face very carefully. The woman looked at her with eyes that quickly ordered Momma Peach to get over to the phone. “It's Chief Duddles,” she whispered. Momma Peach nodded. “What can I do for you, Chief? Has there been another accident? Because if there has, that's just tough luck. I'm housebound for tonight.”

  “I'm calling to find out if the outsiders are staying with you,” Chief Duddles asked Thelma in a stern voice. “Thelma, I want solid answers from you, is that clear? And before you answer I want you to know that if you want to continue driving your tow truck in this town than you better toe the line.”

  Momma Peach nodded again. “Play along,” she whispered.