Running from the Dead

by Mike Knowles

  “Sheena—”

  “Is this the part where you tell me it’s going to be dangerous?”

  “It is,” Jones said.

  “Next you’ll tell me that I need to stay in the car.”

  “You will need to stay in the car.”

  “Let me stop you right there, righty. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs a big strong man to keep her safe. I can look out for myself just fine. Lauren needs help, not someone waiting in the car.”

  “I need you in the car.”

  “You don’t listen, do you? I am not going to wait in the car like some fucking cab driver.”

  “I don’t need a cab driver,” Jones said. “I need a wheelman.”

  “I can’t tell if you are being offensive or progressive.”

  “I need you to be our getaway driver, and if the need arises I need you to be plan B.”

  Sheena thought about it. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “You ever drive a car?”

  “Sure.”

  “You ever get a speeding ticket?”

  “Tons of them.”

  “Then you’re qualified. You in?”

  “I’m in.”

  “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Sheena?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Righty?”

  She laughed. “Too much?”

  When Jones pulled up to Pacific Heights, Willy was already standing in front of the building in a pair of charcoal pants and a black jacket. The pants were a slim fit that looked good on the old man, and Jones decided that Irene must have picked them out for him. Willy nodded when he saw the Jeep and opened the door before Jones had even pulled to a stop.

  “Drive,” Willy said as he slid into the seat.

  Jones checked his mirrors as he hit the gas. “Something wrong? I thought you were allowed to come and go as you please here.”

  Willy laughed. “I am. I just borrowed a few things before I left.”

  Jones glanced over at Willy, and the old man lifted his shirt high enough to show a gun in the waistband of his pants.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Willy smiled. “This is just in case things don’t go as you planned.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “One of my poker buddies bragged that he had snuck his gun into his room when he moved in. I think he was trying to impress me because he knew that I had spent some time inside. After you called, I came up with a bullshit reason to go knock on his door, and I lifted it when he wasn’t looking. I must be getting old because he was on to me before I got on the elevator.” Willy laughed. “You should have seen him running down the hall after me.”

  Jones gave the old man a look.

  “What? It’s not like he can tell anyone I stole the gun he had smuggled in. It’s a victimless crime.”

  “Not for the victim,” Jones said. “For you, either, if he kicks your ass.”

  “Let him try. If I could kick your ass, what chance does an eighty-year-old man with a cane have?”

  “You didn’t kick my ass.”

  “Sure, kid. Sure.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “That nose says different.”

  Rush hour was long gone, but no one had let any of the other drivers on the road in on the news. Jones forced his way into the next lane and turned west onto Gerrard Street while Willy played with the radio. When he found a Bob Seger song he liked, he said, “You got a plan, or are we just going to wing it?”

  Jones changed lanes and fished his phone out of his pocket. He used his thumb to unlock the phone and handed it to Willy.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “That’s a street view of the motel we’re going to.”

  Willy craned his neck back and began moving the phone back and forth in an effort to see it without his glasses.

  “Put two fingers on the screen at the same time and move them apart.”

  Willy looked at Jones to see if he was kidding and then tried it out. He smiled when the image enlarged.

  “Now look around back.”

  Willy flipped the phone over.

  “What are you—no, use your finger to move the image so that you can see the back of the building.”

  “These weren’t a thing when I went away. My apologies for not knowing what to do with your stupid phone.”

  “Do you see it?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  Jones drove while Willy caught up with the rest of the world. He remembered a story about an experiment where scientists had dropped tablets into an Ethiopian village. Within a few minutes, they turned it on. In a few days, they were using close to fifty apps. In under six months, they figured out how to hack the tablet. Willy should be able to figure out how to use a map before they got to the motel.

  A minute later, Jones smiled when he heard Willy let out of a small squeal of delight after he discovered how to see the other side of the building.

  “There is a service road running behind the motel.”

  “Already there,” Willy said.

  “The room is around back on the second floor.”

  Willy leaned in closer to the phone.

  “Two fingers,” Jones said.

  Willy sighed. “I swear I will never get used to this shit.” Thirty seconds later, he said, “I got it. No balcony, but there is a window.”

  “That’s our way out.”

  “Your way out is a two-storey drop. Maybe you’re interested in taking a swan dive out a window, but I don’t think you’re going to convince the kid to follow you. For that to work, we’d need a ladder or something.”

  Jones gestured up the road with his chin. Willy leaned forward and scanned what was ahead. It only took him a second to spot the orange Home Depot sign.

  “You must think you’re pretty fucking smart.”

  Inside the hardware store, Jones picked out an expensive ladder that folded up small enough to fit in the trunk with room to spare. It was something that he had seen on a late-night TV commercial. The guy from the ad was pictured on the box, standing on the ladder two storeys up with a shit-eating grin on his face. Jones wished he had the man’s confidence. He put the box in the cart and went in search of a few more items that were harder to find than the ladder had been. Jones found a folding knife with a four-inch blade next to the boxcutter he had initially been looking for and put it in the cart. He found a glass cutter without having to ask for help and the suction cups he needed were right next to it.

  Willy took them from Jones and inspected them. He shook his head and dropped them into the cart. “A little James Bond, don’t you think?”

  “James Bond always gets the girl.” When he saw Willy roll his eyes, Jones said, “If Tony stands outside the door, we might have to be quiet about the window.” Jones could see that his answer didn’t satisfy the old man, but he didn’t complain about it.

  Jones paid for everything in cash and stowed the ladder in the back of the Jeep. He took the rest of it to the front seat and pulled off the packaging. Jones put everything into the inner pockets of his coat and then pulled out of the lot.

  Willy craned his neck to get a look at the street signs when they entered Chinatown. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “We need to make one more stop.”

  “What else do you need to pick up, double-oh seven? Is it a watch with a laser in it? Because, that would go great with your glass cutter.”

  “Not what,” Jones said. “Who.”

  “Who are we picking up?”

  “Our driver.”

  “We have a wheelman?”

  Jones glanced over at Willy. “Do me a favour. Say getaway drive
r instead.”

  “Why?”

  “Trust me.”

  Jones pulled to the curb in a no-parking zone and watched Sheena walk to the car in the side mirror. She wore black boots with black jeans and a black leather jacket. The outfit looked like it belonged on the Ramones who named her. She got in the back seat and looked at Jones and Willy.

  “You’re late.”

  Jones said sorry to the reflection in the rear-view and pulled back onto the road. He glanced at the mirror again and saw Sheena looking at Willy.

  “Holy shit, is this the guy that broke your nose?”

  Jones said, “It’s not broken,” and Willy said, “Yes,” at the exact same time.

  Sheena laughed and Willy joined in. The bank robber turned down the music before turning to get a better look at Sheena.

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  Sheena said her name as though she was daring Willy to say something.

  “Nice to meet you, Sheena. My name is Willy Greene. I hear you’re our getaway driver.”

  “I heard the same thing.”

  “You ever done anything like that before?”

  “Nope. Most people usually try and get away from me.”

  Willy barked out a laugh and punched Jones on the shoulder. “I like her.” The convict leaned into the gap between the seats and put a little sugar in his voice. “You’ll do fine, and if you don’t feel comfortable behind the wheel, you can switch places with me on the ladder.”

  Jones glanced at the mirror and saw Sheena smile. “Thanks. Wait, what?” she said.

  Willy glanced at Jones. “He didn’t tell you about the ladder. Well, it seems our damsel in distress is in a tower of sorts. Like that story. The one who had to let down her hair.”

  “Rapunzel,” Sheena said.

  “Bingo,” Willy said. “Except there’s no evil witch in this story.”

  “There’s all kinds of evil out there,” Sheena said.

  Willy turned around and eased back into his seat. “On that, we can agree, kid.”

  “So tell me more about this ladder,” Sheena said.

  “After we eat,” Jones said.

  “Now?”

  “Eat when you can,” Jones said.

  They got burgers and ate them in the parking lot, using the hood of the Jeep as a table. While they ate, Jones laid out the plan and Willy did his best to poke holes in it.

  “You’re overthinking this whole thing. We should just walk up to her pimp, put a gun in his face, and make him turn over the girl.”

  Jones finished chewing and shook his head. “We don’t know how Lauren will react to something like that. She has feelings for Tony.”

  Willy rolled his eyes. “He’s a pimp.”

  “Not to her,” Sheena said. “She calls him her boyfriend.”

  “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “I need you to be my second-storey man, not a stick-up man,” Jones said.

  “I can be both.”

  Jones sighed. “Listen, I got enough to worry about in front of me. I don’t have time to worry about my back. If you aren’t down with the plan, I’ll call you an Uber and you can finish your burger and go home.”

  “What’s an Uber?”

  Sheena laughed.

  “In or out?”

  Willy ate a fry and grunted, “I’m in.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. It was Willy who broke it first. “You got a plan if things go south?”

  Jones jutted his chin toward Sheena. “We let Sheena take the lead.”

  Willy shook his head. “That’s if she doesn’t want to leave with us. I’m talking south.” The bank robber mimed a plane crashing with his hand and supplied a long shrill whistle as a soundtrack. “That kind of south.”

  “If the plan goes off the rails, just follow my lead.”

  “With my gun?”

  Sheena stopped chewing and stared at Jones.

  “With your gun,” he said.

  Willy smiled. “Finally, we agree on something. Now, one of you tell me what an Uber is.”

  37

  The Camelot was a two-storey red-brick building shaped like a stunted capital L. The base of the L housed the manager’s office while the longer portion was devoted to a long row of rooms—twenty-four in total. Jones had pulled into the gas station up the road to scout the motel and parked in the shadow of the tall Esso sign. The sign threw off just enough light to give the darkness a murky yellow tinge that made everything ugly.

  Willy jutted his chin toward the motel. “Slow night.”

  Jones had been thinking the same thing. Most of the lot was empty. He pointed to the farthest corner of the building where the light from the gas station was most diluted. “I’ll park the Jeep by the office.”

  Willy thought about it. “Makes sense. No one will be able to see it from the rooms.”

  There were six cars parked close to the rooms and a seventh a row back. A BMW was parked across three spaces with the windows down and the stereo up. Jones could hear hip hop playing at the kind of volume and bass only a custom stereo could generate.

  “I’m guessing that’s our guy,” Sheena said.

  Willy took his eyes off the motel and looked over the car. A few seconds later, Jones saw Willy’s head move as he started inspecting each of the other vehicles. Jones had already scanned the cars and knew them to be empty.

  A heavy plume of smoke drifted out the driver side window. The cloud was too big to be from a cigarette.

  “Of course he vapes,” Sheena said.

  A few seconds later, a twin cloud billowed from the passenger side.

  “You see that?” Willy had finished looking at each of the cars.

  Jones nodded. “Two of them.”

  “Maybe it’s her,” Sheena said.

  “I doubt it. I figure the girl is in that room right there.” Willy jabbed his index finger at the building. “It’s the only one on the second floor with any lights on.”

  “I see it,” Jones said. “Let’s see who’s right.”

  Jones pulled out of the gas station and drove down the street at a speed that told people he wasn’t from the neighbourhood. He signalled way in advance of the parking lot entrance and drove around toward the manager’s office. Jones reversed into the spot and killed the engine.

  Jones reached up and turned on the dome light above the dash. “Give me ten minutes before you move.” Sheena nodded; Willy didn’t. Jones looked at the bank robber. “Not eight. Not nine and three quarters. Ten.”

  Willy reluctantly agreed without taking his eyes off the motel office window. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say, boss.”

  Jones lifted his phone and typed two words.

  I’m here.

  Jones got a reply within seconds.

  C U soon daddy.

  Jones reached up and turned off the interior light. He looked at Willy and said, “Keep your head down.”

  Jones looked at Sheena in the rear-view and said, “You ready?”

  Sheena inhaled sharply through her nose and said, “Let’s go.”

  Willy bent forward as Jones counted down from three. At one, he and Sheena opened their doors and got out of the Jeep. Sheena quietly shut her door and stepped past Jones so that she could climb into the driver’s seat. Jones quietly said, “Ten minutes,” and then closed the door.

  Jones felt the cold night air frisk him with cold fingers that found their way into his coat and under his clothes; he felt the folding knife weighing down his pocket and hoped Tony didn’t do as thorough a job. He walked toward the stairs without looking at the BMW that was still radiating bass. He was sure that his last message was relayed to the men in the car and that they would be watching him.

  When Jones got within ten metres of the stairs, he suddenly stopped feeling th
e music in his chest. He glanced back at the BMW and the doors opened and two men got out. The driver was shorter than Jones and his body was thick from workouts that were heavy on the weights and light on the cardio. The driver’s squat size was a direct contrast to the other man’s long lean body. He was well over six and a half feet tall, and he moved with a fighter’s grace that Jones could read as well as words on a page. The man’s height and dark sunglasses made Jones immediately think of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, not the Laker on the court, but the gangster in the Bruce Lee movie Game of Death.

  Jones thought about using the stairs to reduce the chance of being swarmed, but he stayed where he was. He was supposed to be a john, not a threat.

  The big man was in no rush, but his long strides put him in front of Jones before his partner was halfway there. He stood looking at Jones and slowly shifted his weight back and forth as though he was dancing to the music that had been playing on the car stereo. Jones looked up at his reflection in the man’s sunglasses and put the proper amount of intimidation into his voice. “Can I help you?”

  The tall man said nothing.

  “He don’t talk,” Tony said when he finally caught up. Despite the cool night air, Tony was sweaty, and he kept his hand on his side as though the walk from the car had given him a cramp. Up close, Jones put Tony in his early twenties—too young to be that out of shape. Jones wondered if the vaping was to blame. “He can. I heard him scream once when he broke his collarbone. It was funny. His voice wasn’t as deep as you’d think it would be.”

  The big man looked at Tony.

  “What? It isn’t.”

  He kept staring.

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  When the big man said nothing, Tony smiled at Jones. “See what I did there?” Tony looked Jones over, and his eyes went wide when he saw his arm. “Holy shit, Marvin check it out. This dude only has one hand.”

  Jones saw the big man glance at his arm.

  “Did it get cut off or something?”

  Jones crossed his arms as though he was embarrassed. “I was born this way.”

  “That sucks,” Tony said.

  “I’m sorry, do you work here?”

  The question made Tony smile and Jones saw that his two front teeth were stained yellow. It was probably one of the reasons he switched to vaping. “Sort of. We manage the business upstairs.”