Beginning by Michael Farris Smith

Charlie. Charlie looked at him sideways and said, “I see you still cuttin your own hair.”
    Cohen nodded. “My beauty parlor is on vacation.”
    â€œSame ol shit. I try harder and harder to get down here, though. Don’t never stop. Your house still standing?”
    â€œStill standing.”
    â€œI knew when your daddy built it that it’d take the damn apocalypse to knock it down. Me and ol Jimmy Smith stood there and made fun of him triple-stacking the frame, but he was like that third little pig, just kept on how he wanted.”
    â€œI know it. Mom wanted it tall but he wouldn’t have that either.”
    â€œNope. You and that dog and that house are about like cockroaches.”
    â€œDon’t jinx me.”
    They stepped up into the back of the truck and Cohen looked around at the open boxes stretched across the floor, a small pathway made down the middle. At the front end of the truck was a small backhoe.
    â€œWhat the hell’s that?” Cohen asked.
    Charlie shrugged. “Don’t never know what you might need. Got a deal, anyways.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you’re one of them now.”
    â€œOne of them what?”
    â€œYou know what. Treasure hunter. Tomb raider. Whatever you wanna call it.”
    â€œI ain’t no tomb raider ’cause there ain’t nothing but dead shit buried in a tomb. What I’m after is alive and kickin.”
    â€œCome on, Charlie. You don’t believe that.”
    â€œMay or may not believe it but I’m gonna find out and that backhoe is the thing to do it.”
    â€œWell, if it turns up, I want fifty percent off what’s in the back of this truck.”
    â€œIf it turns up, you can have this truck.”
    Cohen shook his head and moved in between the boxes and said, “First off, I need some water and some liquor.”
    â€œGot that,” Charlie said. “Back left.”
    Cohen found a stack of cases of bottled water and he lifted two and brought them to the end of the truck. Charlie grabbed a fifth of Jim Beam from a box up front. “You need a bag?” he asked. Cohen nodded and Charlie gave him one and Cohen walked back down the middle. He picked up boxes of macaroni and cheese and packs of dried fruit and a carton of cigarettes. He asked Charlie if he had any chain-saw blades and Charlie pointed and Cohen found the box. He took two and then he asked about gas.
    â€œGot a couple of full tanks in the truck cab. They only three gallons, though.”
    â€œThat’s fine. It’ll hold till next time.”
    While Charlie got the gas, Cohen got two boxes of shells for the shotgun and a box for the .22 and he took two bags of beef jerky. Charlie came back with the gas cans and told one of the gunmen to put them in the back of Cohen’s Jeep. Then he climbed back up into the truck and looked at all Cohen had gathered.
    â€œThis ain’t as much as usual,” Charlie said.
    Cohen shrugged. “I don’t guess I need as much.”
    Charlie frowned at him and said, “Why don’t you just come on and work for me. I told you a thousand times. Ain’t no reason to stay down here.”
    Cohen didn’t answer. Shook his head with his lips together.
    â€œYou been hearing anything?” Charlie asked.
    Cohen thought a second. Heard himself talking to Elisa. “No. About what? Who am I supposed to hear anything from?”
    Charlie looked out of the back of the truck. Rubbed his hands together. “Nothing, really. Just wondered. You got a radio still?”
    â€œYeah, but it don’t pick up like it used to. Am I supposed to be hearing something, Charlie? About what you’re after maybe?”
    Charlie turned back to him. “Not about that, Cohen. You know me and your daddy was friends for a long time. And he’d want me to tell you to get on out of here. When’s the last time the damn sun shined down here? Hell,