by Zoey Parker
“What's that you're looking at?” she asked.
“Better times,” he replied. There was a touch of sadness in his voice. “Come on an' have a look, if'n you like.”
Billie sat down on the couch with him, looking down at the photo mounted on the page. In it, Buzzard looked about ten years younger. He was posing against a dusty old pickup truck with a handsome, rugged man in a cowboy hat who appeared to be in his fifties.
“My son Alden,” Buzzard said, nodding. “Looks just like me, don't he?”
But the more she stared at the picture, the more Billie realized that Alden looked a lot more familiar than that. His hair, the shape of his face...
And the eyes. The same squint, the same reckless twinkle.
“Is this...Carter's father?” she asked.
Buzzard chuckled. “It's like I said, ain't it? The eyes don't never lie.”
“So you're his grandfather.”
The old man smiled, but in the dim light from the gas lamp next to him, Billie could see tears shining in his eyes. “Don't know how much he told you 'bout his family. But the thing you need to understand is, Alden, he didn't wanna run out on Carter's momma. Hell, he didn't even know she was pregnant. He was a real wild type, an' he got on the wrong side of some moonshiners from Louisiana. I don't even remember what he did to piss 'em off, it was so long ago. He went on the run up to Canada, even spent some years workin' oil rigs in Alaska. He didn't find out he had a son 'til around the time he came back into my life, 'bout six or seven years ago.”
“What was it that kept you apart for so long?” Billie asked.
“I was a drunk when Alden was a boy,” Buzzard said. “I hurt him an' his momma a lot, an' one day I woke up sober an' felt so bad 'bout what I'd done that I knew I had to kill myself or run away. Still dunno why Alden decided to find me, or how he was able to forgive me when I still ain't never forgave myself. But when he learned about Carter, all he wanted to do was go to him an' apologize, give 'im some explanation for why he couldn't be around for 'im as a kid.” Buzzard sighed. “Maybe a day comes when a man just decides he's gotta have his family, no matter how fucked up they are.”
“So what happened?”
Buzzard wiped a tear from his cheek. “I was goin' with him to meet up with Carter, but 'bout halfway there, them moonshiners ambushed us. Those cocksuckers had memories like goddamn elephants, an' even after all them years, they was waitin' for Alden to come back down south so they could settle things with 'im. I'm good with a rifle an' I chased 'em off, but by then, they'd filled my boy with fuckin' holes, the bastards.” He sniffed. “I tracked 'em down an' finished 'em off, though. By God, I did that. Then I found Carter an' apologized to 'im on behalf of his daddy.”
Billie put her hand on Buzzard's arm. “I'm so sorry.”
He shook his head. “No need. Just take good care of my grandson. That's all I ask.”
Billie nodded as she stood and went back to the bedroom. Even after hearing about his early life when they were in the cabin, she hadn't been able to think of Carter as a child. But Buzzard's story made her heart hurt as she pictured Alden spending most of his life without his father, and Carter never even knowing his father at all.
They'd grown up to be hard as nails, but they'd both started off as lonely, abandoned boys. The sadness of this legacy still lingered in Carter's eyes.
Before she went back to sleep, she held Carter tight.
Chapter 37
Carter
When Carter woke up, the first thing he saw was Billie looking down at him with a strange smile. Her eyes looked like she was searching his face for...something. It wasn't unpleasant, but it made him feel a little weird.
“What?” he asked, yawning.
“Nothing,” she said, kissing him. “I'll tell you later. I think Buzzard's making breakfast for us.”
As they emerged from the bedroom, Buzzard was placing plates and bowls of food on the table, along with mugs of coffee. The smell of maple sausage was in the air.
“So I reckon I'll have to go ahead an' burn them sheets after you leave, seein' as how you young people prob'ly spent most've the night pollutin' 'em with your damn sex juices an' whatnot,” Buzzard rasped, winking at Billie.
Carter laughed. “Why don't you sniff them and find out, you old perv?”
“If all this talk isn't enough to make us hungry, I don't know what will,” Billie smirked, sitting down at the table.
“Sorry the eggs an' milk is powdered,” said Buzzard. “Should still taste all right, though. You goin' to meet up with them other two today, down at that truck stop?”
“Yep,” Carter said, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“I drew you a map to get to the airstrip from there,” Buzzard continued. “Take care not to get lost. That place ain't gonna have no signs pointin' to it, y'understand.”
“Airstrip?” Billie asked, adding milk to her coffee.
Carter nodded. “It's a little tarmac a few miles from the truck stop. The guy who owns it has a plane he uses to fly people over the border. He runs guns, drugs, fugitives, you name it. He'll transport us in exchange for a percentage of what we got from the banks.”
“Good plan,” she said.
Once they finished their meal and the dishes were in the sink, Carter grabbed his saddlebag from the bedroom. Buzzard gave Carter a hug, slapping him on the back. “Thanks again for makin' an old man happy, kid. You did good. Here, I'll go up top with you.”
They climbed into the lift and Buzzard cranked it, bringing them back up to the surface. As soon as the door opened, the heat from outside hit Carter like a blast furnace.
A second later, a shot rang out and the bullet buried itself in Buzzard's chest.
Buzzard fell out of the small metal shed face first, landing on the sand. Stunned, Carter watched him fall, his peripheral vision registering Billie's shocked expression.
Before he could reach for his own weapon, he heard a gun cock. A man in a black duster coat and a wide-brimmed hat was leveling a pair of long-barreled revolvers at them. He had a long scar extending from his right eye down to his lip, and when he smiled, he revealed a mouthful of rotten teeth.
“Keep your hands up and come on out of there,” he said. “Or don't, and I'll kill you. Either one is fine with me.”
Slowly, Carter and Billie raised their hands and stepped out into the sunlight.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Billie asked.
“Name's Stoudenmire,” the gunman said. “Bounty hunter. There's a hefty reward for you, and I aim to collect. No pun intended,” he added, indicating the pistols in his hands.
“How did you find us?” Carter demanded. Stoudenmire clearly had the drop on them and Carter couldn't think of a way out, so he figured his best option was to stall the man and buy them some time.
“Ancestry website,” Stoudenmire said. He sounded quite proud of himself. “Ain't it funny the things Johnny Law won't think of? I got me one of them thirty-day free trials. Shit, maybe when I'm done with you two, I'll see if I've got any rich uncles worth hitting up. Anyway, I discovered that this codger was your only living relative. Finding his little hidey-hole was just a matter of asking the right questions and breaking the right necks.”
Carter opened his mouth again, but Stoudenmire stopped him. “I can see you've got a whole passel of questions for me, but you're going to have to ask them while we're on our way to the cops, because frankly, the longer I keep standing in this heat, the crazier it's going to fucking make me. So let's go.”
Carter's mind raced. After everything they'd been through, he couldn't believe it would all end now, out here in the desert with no chance of escape. He felt bad for Buzzard, but even more than that, he felt bad for Billie.
He hadn't swept her away from her old life—she was about to be delivered back to it, probably in handcuffs. And Carter couldn't risk doing a damn thing about it, or Stoudenmire would open fire and Billie might be killed.
Before Carter could move, there was a loud growl and a coyote darted out from behind the shed. Its jaws snapped as it lunged at Stoudenmire, sinking its claws into his chest and arm. Stoudenmire let out a high-pitched yelp and fell backward. He tried to shoot the creature, but the bullet went wild and a split-second later, its jaws closed around his throat.
There was a sickening gurgle and Stoudenmire was still, his guns falling from his lifeless fingers.
The coyote looked at Carter, licked the blood from its snout, howled, and bounded off into the desert without a look back.
From that point forward, Carter never had anything bad to say about coyotes ever again.
Chapter 38
Carter
Carter bent down to try to help Buzzard, but once he got a good look at the wound, he knew it was hopeless. His blood was pumping out too quickly, and every time he tried to breathe, there was a sucking sound in his chest.
“I'm so fucking sorry, Buzzard,” Carter said, holding his hand. He could hear Billie crying next to him.
“Ain't nothin' t'be sorry 'bout, kid,” Buzzard whispered. “Least I got a chance t'see you a little in my last few years. Take that money you brought me, okay? Spend it on this girl've your'n. Seems like she's worth it.”
“She is,” Carter assured him.
“Wish I could've introduced you to your pop,” Buzzard croaked, his lips shiny with blood. “My fault. Wasn't strong enough to save him. But I got them cocksuckers in the end, though. I...”
The old man's last breath left his body and his head fell backward.
Carter stood up and held Billie for several minutes. But he knew the longer they stayed, the more danger they were in. If Stoudenmire had found them here, there was no reason to believe others wouldn't too.
They cranked the elevator down to grab the stacks of cash from the bathroom. Then they went back up, stepping over the bodies of Buzzard and Stoudenmire as they headed to the car they'd parked at the fence.
They rode for a few hours in silence until they came to the Pot O' Gold Truck Stop near Del Rio, a town next to the Mexican border. Carter killed the Mercedes' engine and they walked in. As they did, he saw a waitress give them a funny look. His hackles went up for a second before he remembered what he looked like without his long hair and biker gear.
She probably thinks we're a couple of yuppies who wandered into the wrong place for a burger, he thought.
Hazmat and Oiler were sitting in a booth at the back. They were the only customers. When Hazmat saw them, his eyes widened in anger. Oiler looked sad and tired, but not surprised.
“Hope you boys haven't been waiting too long,” Carter commented as he and Billie sat across from them.
“Why the fuck is she still with you?” Hazmat snarled. “Jesus, what the hell's wrong with you?”
“Nice to see you again too,” Billie said sourly.
“Don't you crack wise at me, girlie,” Hazmat hissed, “or I'll kill you both right here.”
“No you won't,” said Carter. “She's with me now. She's coming to Mexico with us. Believe me, she's useful to have around.”
“Useful to have around?” Hazmat repeated, sneering. “What, has she got a solid gold twat or something? You must be out of your mind if you think we're gonna let you bring her along. She's already fucked things up for us enough. Besides, if you want some kinda fuck-doll to play with, there's about a million of 'em down in Mexico. You don't need to import one.”
“This does seem like a weird idea, man,” Oiler pointed out. “Are you guys, like...in love now, or somethin'?”
Carter looked at Billie and smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I'm pretty sure we are.”
Oiler thought about this for a moment, then grinned. “Yeah. Okay. I guess love can make you do some strange stuff sometimes. If she's sure she wants to come along and she ain't gonna slow us down none, that's fine with me.”
“You're a bunch of fuckin' morons, all of you!” Hazmat exclaimed. “Suddenly we're in some kinda bullshit fairy tale where we can just whisk her away with us an' we'll all live happily ever after? Because unless you were plannin' on pimpin' her out when we get down there—”
“I've had just about enough of that crap from you,” Carter growled. “She's coming with me. If you can't get with that program, we can divide up our shares and go our separate ways.”
“Oh, we're goin' our separate ways,” Hazmat said dangerously. “But I'm not dividin' jack with you. Every bad fuckin' thing that's happened to us has been because of your bad leadership, so I'm keepin' what we got from the Cactus Hollow job, an' the other cash I've got too. You can call it a stupid tax.”
Carter opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “Fine. If that's what it'll take to put an end to this—”
Suddenly, they heard the warble of a police siren right outside, and blue lights flickered on the wall behind them.
“Carter Winslow, Jack Thornvale, and Lane Scudder!” a voice called out through a bullhorn. “Come out with your hands in the air or we're coming in. You have one minute to comply.”
“I knew that waitress was onto us,” Oiler moaned.
“Fuck,” Hazmat spat, staring daggers at Carter and Billie. “This is all your fault, you piece of shit. You led them here. You, it's always been you, slowing us down and fucking us up and dragging this dumb cunt into it, you motherfucker, I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you both—!”
Hazmat grabbed a steak knife from the table and jumped at them, but before Carter could react, a gunshot split the air and half of Hazmat's head was blown off. He was dead before he hit the floor, and a thin ribbon of smoke drifted from the barrel of Oiler's gun.
“That guy was a real dick, huh?” Oiler said, blinking the flecks of blood from his eyelashes.
There was a commotion outside as the cops prepared to breach the truck stop. Oiler looked behind at the door, reaching into his pocket and sliding his keys across the table to them. “Go out the back,” he said. “My bike's parked out there. I'll hold them off.”
“How?” Carter asked.
Oiler smiled. He handed over his own saddlebag and the one that had belonged to Hazmat as well.
“Just go,” he said. “And make sure my wife and kid get my share. Tell them I loved them. They won't believe it, maybe, but tell them anyway. Now go.”
Carter and Billie grabbed the bags and headed for the kitchen just as cops burst in the front door. They heard Oiler's voice scream, “I'm not going back to prison, pigs! Come on and bring it!”
Then there were gunshots, and the sound of Oiler's body hitting the floor.
Carter burst out the back door with Billie right behind him. They found the motorcycle and climbed on, gunning the engine. The machine roared as they burned rubber, zooming out of the parking lot and down the highway as fast as they could. A few moments later, they heard sirens again, and blue lights flashed in their rearview mirrors.
The chase was on.
Chapter 39
Carter
With Billie's arms tight around his waist, Carter pushed the bike as hard as he could, riding as though every devil in hell was on their heels. The cruisers behind them shrieked like a pack of banshees, and every minute seemed to bring the cops closer.
They were riding so fast that Carter almost missed the turn onto the old road that led to the airstrip.
“Are we going to make it?” Billie asked, raising her voice over the engine.
“Goddamn right we will,” he said. He honestly didn't know whether they would or not, but he didn't want Billie to give up hope. Those police cars kept closing in, though.
We have to make it, Carter thought grimly. For Buzzard. For Oiler. We fucking owe it to them.
“In case we don't—” she began.
“We will.”
“Yeah, but just in case,” she continued, “I want you to know that I love you too.”
The airstrip came into view ahead of them. Carter saw the plane waiting on the tarmac and the
pilot lounging next to it in a folding chair. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and examining a centerfold in a porn magazine. When he saw the bike coming in with police cars behind it, he jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over.
“What the fuck is this nonsense?” the pilot asked as Carter brought the bike to a stop next to the plane. “You brought cops?”
“Never mind that,” Carter said. He and Billie hopped off the bike and ran toward the plane. “Just get us out of here, fast!”