by Dan Vining
Bodie laughed an odd laugh and shook his head. “Goddamn, I thought you were bringing me out here to shoot me.”
“What?”
“You had some kind of weird look in your eye. You went to all that trouble. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I heard you tell the guy it’s my birthday and it’s not. You’re talking about how nobody gets away. You’ve got a forty-four Magnum in the glove compartment.”
Nate said again, “Here or on the tailgate?”
Bodie pushed open his door and rested one bare blue foot on the running board. “I’m good here. Bring it on.” Bodie handed Nate a scratched and scraped music cassette, Jurassic technology. “Stick this in,” he said to his son. “It slid out from under the seat when you stopped back there. I can’t even tell what it is.”
Nate shoved the beat-up cassette into the player and punched the button.
“Walk this way!” the cocky singer demanded as the first heavy drops of redemptive rain fell onto the windshield from a great height.
THE END