by Johnny Shaw
The packaging the edibles came in informed him that each edible contained two servings. Two times five equals ten. He had taken ten servings. It took everything inside him not to immediately have a freak-out. He felt himself slowly go crazy worrying that the drugs would drive him crazy.
At the peak of Kurt’s buzz and the height of his paranoia, when he thought he might have everything under control, Brother Floom approached him and asked him to take a walk.
Kurt mumbled a few consonants, but without the vowels to help out, the sounds didn’t quite form words. Without the ability to communicate clearly, he shrugged, took Brother Floom’s hand, got to his feet, and strolled with him.
Once they walked inside the cordoned-off area where the buses were parked, the men that always surrounded Brother Floom stopped at the perimeter. Kurt concentrated on not appearing high. He started to wonder if he was blinking more than the normal amount of blinking. He stopped blinking, but then his eyes hurt.
“Let’s talk in my quarters,” Brother Floom said. As they were about to step into Floom’s bus, he saw Virginia walk past the men. She hadn’t seen them yet, but she headed right in their direction.
“She wants to talk to me,” Brother Floom said. “She’s angry. I can tell from her stride. It hasn’t changed since our wedding day.”
Kurt started to correct him, but Brother Floom pulled him in the opposite direction. At the Money Bus, Brother Floom knocked “Shave and a Haircut” on the door. Kurt made a mental note to face-palm later. The security system for the bus they had spent months figuring out how to break into was “Shave and a Haircut.” It didn’t matter how high Kurt was, he knew that was ridiculous.
The door opened. Brother Floom stepped inside, waving Kurt to follow.
“Wow,” Kurt said. Because that’s what you say when you see money piled everywhere and scattered on the ground. It looked like the offering bags had been dumped onto a table and someone was in the process of counting and organizing it. Kurt spotted personal checks and bills of all denominations. It was impossible to tell how much. It was easier to figure out mass than value. He figured about three Hefty bags.
That figure didn’t include the money in the vault.
The entire back end of the bus was a giant safe. The door was open. Neat stacks of money sat inside. Lots of it.
“‘Shave and a Haircut,’” Kurt said softly to himself.
“Give us the room, Jeremiah?” Brother Floom said.
Jeremiah didn’t say a word. None of his business. Not his money. The pro that he was, he made one last note in the ledger in front of him, put his pencil behind his ear, and walked off the bus.
Kurt hadn’t finished the process of staring at the money. It was that much money. In the presence of piles of money, it was impossible not to fantasize about the things that could be bought with it. No one needed a full-scale replica of Mjöllnir—more commonly referred to as Thor’s hammer—but that didn’t make Kurt want it any less. It would look good next to his replica Green Lantern Power Battery, even if it crossed universes.
“From the moment I first saw you,” Brother Floom said. “Your face, it was familiar. But . . . I forget easily.”
“We’ve never met, but I knew who you were.”
“You knew me? How?”
“From the television.”
“Of course,” Brother Floom said.
“You knew my mother and father,” Kurt said.
“Did I?”
“My father’s name was Henry. He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He was your son.”
“That can’t be. I only have a daughter. Virginia.”
“Not Brother Floom’s child. Dolphus Ucker’s child.”
“Whose? I’m confused.”
“You are Dolphus Ucker,” Kurt said. “That’s what we came in here to talk about.”
“Is it?”
Someone pounded on the door. A female voice yelled from the other side. “Dad? Are you in there?”
“We have to go,” Brother Floom said. “I’m frightened.”
“What? Where?” Kurt said. “I have so many questions.”
“Anywhere. She’s going to put me away. In a home. In an asylum. I’m scared of where they’ll leave me. Desert me. Don’t let them put me somewhere. Help me.”
Kurt felt sympathy for his plea. He was also very high. As Virginia continued to pound on the door, he thought about what he could do. He did his best to focus. Then he did the math, pluses and takeaways.
They wouldn’t get this opportunity again. He was inside the bus. The bus was full of money. The keys were in the ignition. What was stopping him? And that, children, was how he ended up in a stolen church bus full of money in Swampwater Valley, Mississippi, with a televangelist napping in the back, who he was pretty sure was also high on Pepe’s gummies, because they were no longer in his jacket pocket.
As Kurt drove down the back road, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It had been doing that quite a bit. A few people wanted to talk to him.
“Hey, Ax,” Kurt said.
Two voices shouted back through the phone, Axel’s slightly louder than Gretchen’s. A lot of talking and words, overlapping and angry. Kurt held the phone away from his ear. He didn’t catch sentences but got the gist. They wanted to know what in the hell he was doing stealing the damn bus, and oh Christ, don’t tell me you kidnapped the preacher, too.
“The bus is full of money,” Kurt said. “The safe is open. There’s more money in it. It’s a lot of money. All of it. Nobody followed me, and I’m on a back road somewhere. I got away clean with our money.”
Silence followed. And then in a calm, measured tone, Axel said, “Where are you, Kurt?”
“No road signs out this far. I’m in the woods. I took a bunch of turns. Might run out of road. I’m going to find a spot to put the bus. You come to me.”
“What about Brother Floom?” Axel said. “He’s a witness.”
“Not a reliable one. He might have gotten a little high.”
Silence for a short while. Then Axel said, “I had a plan. My plan would’ve worked.”
“Head south out of town. I’ll send you the GPS when I find a spot.”
“You spoiled my plan,” Axel said.
“I knew you had some hidden badass in you,” Gretchen said.
“Mother’s on the other line. I have to take this.” Kurt hung up on Axel. “Yello.”
Until Kurt saw the cross, he wouldn’t have pegged the building for a church. A visible waterline stained the side five feet high, where a decades-old flood had left its mark. One wall had collapsed, but the house of cards remained standing.
Kurt slowly drove the bus into the open end of the church, like it was a garage. It didn’t fit all the way, the wheels unable to climb a stack of rafters from the collapsed roof.
While Brother Floom slept, Kurt shoveled the loose bills into every container he could find. The velvet collection pouches, garbage bags, a roller bag that had some clothes inside. He also found a couple of sets of accounting books and other paperwork that might prove useful. By the time he finally got it packed and in stacks outside, Axel, Gretchen, and Louder had shown up in the van.
“Hey, jerko,” Louder said. “How could you have a demolition derby without me?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Kurt said. “You could get arrested.”
“They needed a ride. You know the rules.”
“Only Skinrippers drive the Skinrippermobile,” Kurt said. “Why didn’t you bring the rental, Gretch? This van is not nondescript. It’s descript.”
“Stephanie took it when she left. Thanks a lot, Axel.” Gretchen didn’t hide the anger in her voice. “Besides, you said it was a lot of cash.”
“It is,” Kurt said, pointing at the stack he had made. “Everyone grab a sack or bag or coffee can.”
“That’s all money?” Louder asked, grabbing two Hefty bags and walking them to the van.
“Gettin
g money has always been easy,” Gretchen said. “Not getting caught is the trick.”
“It’s all rando cash,” Axel said. “Small bills. Untraceable. They don’t even know how much is here.”
“Oh shit,” Gretchen said. “Who’s this?”
A PT Cruiser barreled down the dirt road, kicking up dust, and slid to a stop, blocking the van in.
“Act natural,” Kurt said, holding a roller bag full of money.
“Are you kidding?” Gretchen said.
“What?” Kurt asked.
“Who the hell is that?” Axel asked.
Harry Cronin got out of the car, pointing a pistol in their direction. “Stop what you’re doing, and put your hands where I can see them!”
“It’s okay,” Kurt said. “He’s not going to arrest us.”
“Hands where I can see them!” Cronin shouted again.
Everyone put their hands in the air, except Kurt. He picked up the stacks of accounting books and paperwork he had found. “Brother Floom is in the bus. I found accounting books. Some other stuff. That has to be what you were looking for.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Because it’s what you asked me to find. Maybe they are cheating on their taxes. I don’t know. I held up my end.”
“Churches don’t pay taxes, kid,” Cronin said. “That paperwork just means that someone is screwing someone else over. Maybe someone skimming and cooking the books to make it look legit. Taking money from the ministry for themselves.”
“McCormick,” Axel said. “I’d bet on it.”
“We had a deal,” Kurt said.
“What deal?” Gretchen said. “Who is this guy?”
“He’s the FBI,” Kurt said.
“Wait a minute,” Axel said. “Is that the guy that chased us?”
“Mother knows all about it. We didn’t want you to worry.”
“Kid,” Cronin said. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but I’m driving a PT Cruiser. Do you really think I’m FBI?”
The man’s voice dropped two octaves lower and became very familiar. Kurt recognized the voice just as Mother got out of the back seat. With all the dust, he hadn’t seen her in the car. She held a pistol loose at her side.
“Mother?” Kurt said. “Uncle Fritzy?”
“That’s Uncle Fritzy?” Gretchen asked.
“It ain’t Wendell Willkie,” Fritzy said. “The best disguise is a bad one. All you see is the disguise.”
“Is this a test?” Kurt asked. “Are you testing us? Testing me?”
“You failed,” Mother said. “I warned you that you couldn’t trust me. I told you straight out. They’re getting helicopters going, so I don’t have time for a full villain speech. Fritzy, load the money into the car.”
“We’re family,” Kurt said.
“Don’t be stupid, Kurt,” Axel said. “She’s not really our aunt. She lied from the start.”
“Oh no,” Mother said. “I am your aunt. Henry was my brother. We’re blood. That’s true. Those other Uckers you met—they’re your kin too. But we’re not like a normal family. We’re constantly screwing each other over.”
“What about Dolphus—Brother Floom?” Kurt asked.
“He’s some guy,” Mother said. “Not your grandfather at all. I made the grandfather thing up on the fly. Once I figured out what was missing in your lives, what you needed, everything else was easy. It all came together.”
“What?” Gretchen asked. “What do you think we need?”
Mother smiled but didn’t answer.
“You made it all up!” Axel shouted. “And you accuse me of creating overcomplicated plans?”
“What about the whole pretending-to-be-an-FBI-agent thing?” Kurt said. “I don’t get the function.”
“Us either,” Mother said. “A loose thread. No plan is perfect. We thought it was going to go somewhere, but it never panned out.”
“I have so many questions,” Axel said. “My brain is exploding.”
“But unfortunately, no time for answers,” Mother said. “Soon as the car is loaded, we’re out of here.”
Brother Floom exited the bus. He looked confused, walking directly into what was left of the abandoned church. He found a raised platform at the back, where a beam of light shined on him. “I hope you’re ready for an evening of faith and fellowship. Praise the Lord.” He launched into his sermon.
Fritzy pushed his back against the Hefty bags in the back. “Money takes up more space when it’s all wadded up. It’s going to fill the car.” He got the hatchback closed and, with rope in one hand and a gas can in the other, walked to the group. “Don’t get squirmy or it’ll hurt.”
“I thought only lazy thieves used guns,” Axel said.
“I never said that,” Mother said. “I use every tool in the toolbox.”
“Are you going to set us on fire?” Gretchen asked.
“Of course not,” Fritzy said. “We ain’t bad people. Now hold out your arms.” He bound her hands and continued the process of tying up all of them.
“Why go through all this trouble?” Kurt asked.
“It started out simple,” Mother said. “Got away from itself. It was more improvisational jazz than a finished concerto. I needed you out of the house. That was it initially.”
“We left when Mom gave everything away,” Axel said. “That means the will is fake, of course.”
“Mom didn’t give the house to Brother Floom?” Gretchen asked.
“Who would do that?” Mother laughed. “Even if he was her father-in-law, that never made sense. People are so ready to believe things. You mentioned Floom’s name at the funeral. I ran with it. A snipe hunt worked for my needs.”
“The house is still ours?” Gretchen asked.
“It’s not there anymore,” Kurt said. “It’s gone. She leveled it.”
“Can you hurry up with those ropes, Fritzy? I’m going to end up making the whole villain speech.”
“It would go faster if you helped,” Fritzy said.
“Not with these knees,” Mother said. “Look, kids. Your father hid a bunch of loot way back when. That stash is mine. I saw a chance to thoroughly search the house. Piece by piece. Now I know for sure it ain’t there.”
“You went through all this trouble to search our house?” Axel asked. “Couldn’t you have bought us a European vacation or something?”
“I suppose I could have,” Mother said, “but I didn’t think of it. Admittedly, now that you mention it, that would have been considerably easier.”
“What’s stopping us from turning you in to the police?” Axel said.
“Turn who in? Someone named Mother Ucker? Your long-lost aunt that convinced you that Brother Tobin Floom was your grandfather who had bilked your mother out of your inheritance so you stole it back by going undercover as a Christian rock band only to be double-crossed? Good luck with that.”
“They might believe us,” Axel said. “They aren’t going to believe we tied ourselves up. The money had to go somewhere.” “The cops will think the money burned up with the bus,” Mother said, nodding to the gas can. “They’ll come up with whatever story makes it easiest for them to close the case. You are functional scapegoats.”
“It would be easier to let us go.”
“I like you, kids. I do, but you’re out of your league. No hard feelings, though. This is business. It’s a lot of money.”
“You taught us that money was stupid and pointless,” Kurt said.
“That’s when you should’ve known I was lying.”
CHAPTER 30
While the Money Bus burned, Brother Floom wandered the nearby forest, preaching to the wild mushrooms and woodland creatures. Black, acrid smoke rose through the trees.
Axel, Gretchen, Kurt, and Louder, their hands and legs tied, sat in a circle on the ground. Axel worked his hands back and forth, but it only made the ropes tighter.
“I’ll bet you anything that Priscilla was in on this,” Axel said. “Mother’s inside m
an.”
“Her name is Stephanie,” Gretchen said, “and I don’t see how her involvement makes sense. We walked right into this situation all on our own. Besides, she had an inside man. Isn’t that right, Kurt?”
“I didn’t tell you about Cronin,” Kurt said, “because I thought I was protecting you.”
“You still lied to us,” Gretchen said.
“Fuck you!” Louder shouted. “You were using Kurt to sell your stolen comic books. That’s right. He told me about that bullshit.”
“This is a family matter,” Axel said.
“No, it isn’t,” Louder said. “This is a people-who-are-tied-up matter. I’ll say whatever the shit I want.”
“She’s my family,” Kurt said. “More than you two for the last fifteen years.”
“You want to go there?” Gretchen said.
“I don’t want to go anywhere but home,” Kurt said, “but that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I told you we couldn’t trust Mother,” Axel said.
Gretchen laughed. “You’re an idiot.”
“Holy shit!” Axel yelled. “Wait a minute.”
“What?” Gretchen said. “Did you get your hands free?”
“No,” Axel said. “If Brother Floom isn’t our grandfather and he’s just some guy, that means I’m not related to Virginia. She’s not my aunt.”
“Who cares?” Gretchen asked. “I can’t think of something I care less about.”
“It changes things,” Axel said.
“Did you?” Gretchen asked. “You didn’t. Axel, that’s incest. I don’t believe in a lot of rules, but even that’s over the foul line and in the seats for me.”
“Who did Axel incest?” Kurt asked.
“It’s not incest,” Axel said, “because she’s not my aunt. And no, we didn’t do anything.”
“But,” Gretchen said, “you wanted to, which is kind of the same.”
“That’s not the way it was. I thought about it, yeah, but I didn’t and I wasn’t going to. Thoughts are only thoughts. You can think anything you want. She offered. I could’ve, but I didn’t. And she isn’t. And you don’t.”
“I get it,” Gretchen said. “Now that the taboo is gone, it’s lost its excitement.”