Desperate Times

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  “See if you can find another cart,” said Jimmy, pointing to a display of toilet paper. “You can never have enough of that,” he said in a whisper.

  “That’s always been my motto,” agreed Bill.

  They continued shopping that way, braving the ever-growing throng of ill-tempered shoppers, filling carts and paying much too much for the purchases before returning to the truck and stowing their cargo in the back of the van. Each time out, Jimmy would snap on the padlock and eye the lot suspiciously. After their last stop at the hardware store, the envelope had grown considerably lighter. He flipped through the bills and found he’d spent over six thousand dollars. Checking his watch, he could hardly believe his eyes. It wasn’t even noon yet. As much as he detested shopping, he hated to admit to himself that it’d been fun. He knew Bill had enjoyed himself. Having long gotten past asking Jimmy if he wanted something or not, he’d simply walked the aisles like a big spender and tossed whatever he picked up into the shopping cart.

  “That’s it,” said Jimmy, snapping the padlock shut on the back of the truck. “Are you hungry? I’m starved.”

  “I could eat,” agreed Bill, rubbing his stomach.

  “Here’s a fifty,” said Jimmy, pulling a bill from the front pocket of his jeans. “Run over to that sub shop over there and get whatever you want. Hell, grab two of whatever you want. Just surprise me, no onions. You got that?”

  “Sure do,” said Bill. “One onion sub, hold the meat. Got it.”

  “Funny.”

  “I do have my moments,” answered Bill, trundling off toward the shop.

  Jimmy watched Bill go and felt his shirt pocket for his cell phone. He walked to the front of the truck and leaned against the hood. The midday sun had warmed it until it was hot to the touch. A bank thermometer announced the temperature at eighty-three. Jimmy punched in his home telephone number and listened as it continued to ring on the other end. He disconnected as soon as the answering machine picked up. His heart sank. He then tried Paula’s cell phone. She answered on the fifth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey baby, we just finished up in Saint Cloud. We’re pulling out now. Where are you? I tried the house phone…”

  For a long while there was no reply from the other end. Jimmy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a moment he thought they’d been disconnected.

  “I’m driving, Jimmy,” she said cryptically. “Driving. So much happened this morning. I don’t know what to think. I turned on the news when you left. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. We’re in some serious shit. I took some money and went shopping and bought some stuff. Not much, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “That’s okay, honey, that’s why I left it there for you. You’re driving? Where are you headed now, Paula? Are you headed back home? We’ll be back in an hour. I picked you up a bunch of stuff. I hope I got the right kinds. I know I got enough. The guy at the cash register looked at me like I was nuts.”

  “I’m just driving, okay? I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just… I’m just driving. You scared me this morning, Jimmy. I’ve never seen you mad like that. You were out of control. Now, you want me to run away? I don’t know if I can do that. I’m just trying to figure things out.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t know. It’s just been a bad morning. The last thing I expected to see was that creep sitting at our table this morning. I guess I lost it. You know I’m not like that. You know that, right?”

  “I know.”

  “Okay, so you’ll meet me back at the trailer? Bill went to pick up some lunch. Do you want us to pick something up for you on our way back?”

  No, I’m fine,” Paula said with a hitch in her voice, sniffling into the telephone.

  “Are you coming home?” Jimmy asked, his eyes closed and teeth clenched.

  “I don’t know. I’m still thinking about everything. If I’m not there when you get back, call me. Okay? I promise to have it figured out by then. I’m sorry, Jimmy. I just need a little time. I’ve got to go now. Call me?”

  “Come home, Paula. Okay? Everything is going to be all right. You’ll see. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said quietly. I’ve got to go. Bye, Jimmy.”

  “Paula?”

  Jimmy waited for a second, but he knew that the line had gone dead. He closed his phone and dropped it into his pocket. He ran his hands down his face, feeling as if he’d been kicked. From across the lot he could see Bill making his way back to the truck, bag in hand. Jimmy turned away, feeling his eyes blur as one hot tear fell from the bridge of his nose. He was a jumble of emotions—angry, sad, confused, and frightened. He fought to regain his composure, squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths. He looked up to the sky and then down to the bank sign which now read twelve noon on the button and a balmy, eighty-four degrees. When his eyes dropped further, he noticed that there was a commotion brewing in the bank parking lot.

  “What the hell?” Jimmy said out loud.

  There were angry shouts coming from the front of the bank, and it seemed that all of the car horns in the long line at the drive-through had begun to roar in unison. A police siren wailed in the distance. Jimmy watched as the blinds were pulled over the large windows from inside the bank.

  “What’s going on?” asked Bill, slightly winded, having jogged the last hundred feet of the parking lot.

  “I’m not sure,” said Jimmy. “I think there might be a run on the bank.”

  The horns died away as people began to climb from their gridlocked vehicles. Jimmy watched as they raced to the front of the darkened bank. Jimmy grimaced as he watched a young man dressed in a business suit beat at one of the tall windows with a tire iron.

  “Get in the truck, Bill.”

  Jimmy’s cell phone began to ring. He quickly removed it from his pocket, nearly dropping it as he folded it open.

  “Paula?” he shouted into the phone, still watching the scene unfold at the bank.

  “No,” answered a familiar voice. “It’s me, Ken. Where are you at, Jimmy? Are you all right?”

  “We’re okay here. I just finished up at the mall. There are a lot of people here; the mall’s packed. I’m just glad I don’t have to stop at the bank. It looks like it just closed.”

  “Listen, Kid,” said Ken. “Get out of there and do it now. Do you hear me? Have you seen the news? Its bad, Kid, real bad. They just announced an emergency bank holiday. Things are really a mess out east. They’re rioting. Things aren’t much better in Minneapolis. The lid’s about to blow on this thing, and we have to get moving. Have you packed yet?”

  “No, not yet,” answered Jimmy over the howl of police sirens.

  ”Well, get moving and grab what you can as fast as you can. We’re ready to go. We’re just waiting on you.”

  “I’m on my way, I’ve just got to swing home first,” answered Jimmy, feeling yet another surge of adrenaline. He snapped his phone shut and stuffed it back into his shirt pocket. He jumped up into the cab of the Mack next to Bill, who was staring with wild-eyed amazement at the ruckus outside the bank. The police had arrived, but there were so many cars in the parking lot that they had to park on the street. One cruiser was joined by another, and the men inside looked as if they didn’t know what to do. They began to order people to clear the premises with the help of a loudspeaker from the relative safety of their squad cars. Jimmy didn’t wait around to see the rest. He exited the parking lot into the slow moving traffic of Division Street. Jimmy wondered about this; it was as if everyone had left work at once, and he supposed that maybe they had.

  “That was crazy,” said Bill between bites of his sandwich, a glob of yellow mustard hanging from his chin. “Did you see that guy with the tire iron? That looked like fun. I always wanted to do something like that. He looked pretty pissed off.”

  “Right,” replied Jimmy, reaching for the dial on the radio. He scanned the channels on the AM and fou
nd the news station WCCO out of Minneapolis. He turned up the volume and began to listen, holding his hand up to quiet Bill.

  “And conditions out east have continued to deteriorate. New York Governor John Greenway has called for a state of emergency. Riots have broken out in all seven of the boroughs, while the George Washington Bridge remains blocked by the truck embargo. National Guard troops have taken up positions inside the city, and there are reports of looters being shot. Wall Street has suspended trading for the day. In Washington, President Moore has called for emergency sessions in both the House and Senate to try and stop the bleeding in the banking crisis.”

  Jimmy had heard enough. He turned the radio off as two State Patrol cruisers roared past in the bright sunshine. He lit up a Camel and cracked his window a few inches, the warm air hissing inside as it invaded the cab. Bill had returned his attention to his lunch and attacked his food like a hungry bear. Jimmy wondered about Bill and what he’d do after he and Paula left for the Dahlgrens’. If Paula even decided to go, he thought bitterly. At least she had options, unlike Bill who had no one and would have to ride this out from inside his trailer. He felt sorry for him and wished there was something he could do. Bill did have his good points. He had a good heart and was always there if you needed him. Still, the bottom line was that Ken Dahlgren had offered refuge to Paula and him. He couldn’t just bring Bill along like a stray dog. Besides, Bill had a knack for getting under your skin. He’d drive everyone crazy in less than a week.

  “Look!” exclaimed Bill in a shrill voice, pointing out the windshield with his soda bottle. “It’s gone up again!”

  Jimmy’s heart felt as if it’d skipped a beat. He braked hard, expecting to run head-on into a school bus, or worse. He quickly checked his mirrors and exhaled loudly. His eyes finally followed Bill’s pointing finger to the sign above the highway. He blinked hard, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. Twenty dollars a gallon! The price of fuel had doubled in the two hours they’d been in town. On a large sheet of cardboard was a hand painted sign, which read simply: CASH ONLY! Jimmy swallowed hard and signaled his turn. He hated the thought of paying so much for fuel, yet it was now or maybe never. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned the Mack onto the service road. There was a long line of cars waiting at the gas pumps, the drivers gripping their steering wheels tightly while waiting their turn. Jimmy passed the cars and headed to the diesel pumps, which thankfully were open on his side. A huge John Deere tractor occupied the pump on the other side. An old man dressed in blue work clothes and muddy rubber boots stood pumping fuel into the gleaming green and yellow tractor. Jimmy set the brakes and shut off the engine.

  “I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Bill said.

  “Have at it,” replied Jimmy. “I’m going to top off here. I don’t want to risk driving into Crown to find out that the Co-Op is out of fuel. You want anything?”

  “I’m good, thanks. I’ll be right out.”

  “Okay,” said Jimmy as he got out of the truck, closed the door, and was greeted by the strong aroma of diesel. He smiled and nodded to the old man at the side of the tractor.

  “Crazy, ain’t it?” asked the stoop-shouldered, white haired farmer who looked to be well into his eighties.

  Jimmy nodded, twisting the cap off the hundred gallon saddle tank and inserting the fuel nozzle. “We passed by here a couple of hours ago, and the price has doubled since then. Who knows? By this time tomorrow twenty bucks a gallon might be a bargain.”

  The old man spat tobacco and rubbed spittle off his chin. “By this time tomorrow there ain’t gonna be any fuel. I got that straight from the horse’s mouth. Lonnie Briggs, the fella that runs this store, told me so himself. He said the last tanker came through this morning, and the driver told him that the refinery’s shuttin’ down today. Just like everything else.”

  “No kidding?” asked Jimmy, glancing at the farmer’s weathered hands.

  “Yup, we’re headed down a tough road, son, a damn tough road. My family and me, we’re luckier than most. I saw this coming over a year ago. I got most of my kids and grandkids up at the farm, all except that damn fool daughter of mine in California,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Yup, we’ve been putting up food for the past year. I’ve got over a hundred head of beef, and my barn’s full of hay. I’m ready for whatever comes. Looks like whatever it is, it’s here now.”

  “I can’t argue that,” said Jimmy.

  The farmer finished topping off the big tank on his tractor and replaced the nozzle on the hook of the pump. He nodded to Jimmy and ambled his way inside the crowded station. Jimmy returned his attention to his own humming fuel pump, shocked that it already read over six hundred dollars. He knew that he had about a thousand left in the envelope, but he hadn’t planned on spending it all on fuel. Thankfully, it clicked off at just under seven hundred dollars. Jimmy shook his head and walked toward the station. Halfway there he stopped, turned around and returned to the Mack to retrieve the keys and lock the door. Yesterday, he never would’ve thought of such a thing.

  He loaded up on chewing gum, buying an entire display box and half a box of candy bars. He noticed that others were doing the same and that many of the shelves were already bare. After standing in line for nearly ten minutes, Jimmy was finally able to pay for his fuel and purchases. The old gal at the counter stuffed the cash into the drop safe. She thanked him politely without looking up, not bothering to offer to bag his purchases. Jimmy felt for her, wondering if she was as worried as everyone else. If she was, she certainly wasn’t letting on.

  Jimmy squinted in the bright sunshine, wishing like hell that his sunglasses weren’t broken. He could see Bill was standing next to the John Deere, giving the farmer an earful. He shook his head and smiled.

  “C’mon, Bill, we’ve got to put it in the wind!” Jimmy shouted, waving his arm in a wide arc. “Let’s go!”

  Bill nodded, still talking as he did so, unable to stop without finishing what he’d started. Jimmy rolled his eyes and noticed a battered cargo van ease out of the lineup at the pump, giving up its place in line. The void was quickly filled by the Chevy behind it. The van looped around and headed over to the diesel pumps, the driver apparently unaware that there were no gasoline pumps at this island.

  “Come on, Bill. Let’s get the show on the road!”

  “I’ll be right there, Jimmy. Go on and get in!”

  Jimmy shook his head and unlocked the driver door. He hopped up into the warm truck, reached across the cab and snapped the passenger door lock open. He inserted the key into the ignition and started up the Mack, the engine catching instantly with a quick puff of blue smoke. A moment later, Bill was hopping up into the cab, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Nice guy,” Bill said. “Did he tell you that he’s got his whole family living with him at his farm? Could you imagine that—only one bathroom? That’s what he said: twenty-three people and only one bathroom. That’s crazy, man. Crazy.”

  Jimmy nodded, noticing that the van had stopped in front of the Mack. Two men had stepped out and were approaching both sides of the truck. One wore a white shirt and had a cowboy hat angled low over his eyes. He was tall and broad in the shoulders and was rapidly approaching Jimmy’s side of the truck. The other was short and thin and wore a dirty flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing black tattoos on thin, rust-colored arms. The way he looked back and forth in the parking lot gave Jimmy a bad feeling. He quickly reached for the button to the air brakes, but was too late. The one in the cowboy hat had already jumped up on the fuel tank. In one hand he held the chrome mirror bracket and in the other was a pearl handled stiletto. He smiled at Jimmy as if the two were old friends.

  “Hey,” he said in a deep, almost jovial voice. “I think we’ll be taking your truck. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Shit,” said Jimmy.

  “Oh, no,” said Bill, as his door was pulled open by the other man who merely smiled, revealing half a dozen yellow teeth.
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  “So, get out before I cut off your nose,” said the big man, waving his knife in Jimmy’s face. “We don’t want any trouble. We just need your truck. That’s all.”

  “Give it to them,” said Bill. “Just give it to them, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy took a deep breath and sighed. They had the drop on him, and he wasn’t going to risk losing a nose to this serious-looking man. Bill was stepping down and Jimmy nodded, holding his hands up as Cowboy Hat opened the door for him.

  “What’s going on here?” asked a familiar voice from behind the truck. Jimmy immediately recognized it as the farmer’s.

  “Nothing, old timer,” said Cowboy Hat dismissively. “Nothing that concerns you anyway. Why don’t you just make like a tree and leave?”

  There was a distinct clacking sound and Jimmy’s heart soared. He’d heard it many times, and there was no other sound quite like it. It was the sound of a pump shotgun racking up a shell.

  “Doesn’t concern me?” asked the old man in a voice that was as cool as ice water. “Well, let’s just say I’m making it my business. Call your buddy over here. Drop the knife and get down on the ground, amigo. Now, or I’ll blow your hide straight to hell.”

  Jimmy peered out from the cab. The farmer had the shotgun held up to his shoulder, the barrel aimed squarely at the big man with the knife.

  “Hey, now,” Cowboy Hat said, dropping the knife and holding his hands up. “Take it easy there, old timer.” He was walking toward the farmer in slow measured steps. “Ain’t nothin’ to get excited about. We don’t want any trouble.”

  “Get back!” ordered the farmer, sounding a little less confident.

  Jimmy held his breath, watching Cowboy Hat advance on the old man. He had a feeling that this was going to end badly, very badly, and he knew he had to do something. He quickly pulled the keys from the ignition and reached behind the seat for the small aluminum bat that the drivers used to thump the tires to check for flats. The small bat was about sixteen inches long, and it felt good in his right hand. He leapt down from the cab, his boots landing on the concrete with a thump.