Edgar handed his roasting stick with the marshmallow on it to Kim.
Kim put it down, along with hers and got to her feet. "We're coming, too."
"Maybe we should stay here, watch our stuff," Tyler said, remaining seated.
Kim looked at him incredulously. "Our stuff will be fine."
Tyler sucked in a quick breath and slowly exhaled, a look of reluctance on his face. He then dropped his stick and pushed himself up as if doing so was the last thing he wanted to do.
June retrieved a small medical kit from her backpack. The group waited for another moan, and when it came, headed in the direction of it.
Tyler didn't like this one bit. He and Kim should've remained behind—just in case something went wrong. Maybe a mountain lion or bear was in the area. Had attacked someone. Or worse, was feeding on the person. They should've remained by the fire. Animals feared it.
"We don't have any weapons," he said, wishing he'd taken his folding knife.
"Weapons?" Edgar asked, not slowing his pace, as if the thought was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard. No one else seemed concerned either and Tyler wondered what was wrong with them.
"Um, hello," Tyler said. "We're in the fucking forest of forests. There are wild animals. You all saw the warning signs posted along the trails. For all we know, a fucking mountain lion or bear attacked someone and it's still in the area."
Edgar stopped and turned around. He held up the bear spray. "First," he said, "we're making noise. Animals run from it. From people. It's a fact." He shook the hand holding the canister. "Second, this shit will cause anything to take off running in the opposite direction, including a person." He turned back around and kept going.
"I've got a can, too," June said.
Tyler shook his head and made sure to stay close.
Twenty minutes later, the moaning exceedingly louder, they entered another camp. A large camouflage tent with a number of plastic containers alongside it sat in a small clearing.
"Hello?" June whispered.
No answer, only the continued moaning.
"Keep an eye out," June said to Kim and Tyler, "I'm going to see what's going on."
Edgar joined June and approached the tent. She called out again, a bit louder, announcing herself. The sounds of anguish continued. June looked at Edgar, who shrugged. She then reached down, took hold of the zipper, and opened the tent's entrance. The familiar sound of the metallic teeth separating filled the air and the noise was almost a relief to the constant moaning. Someone was clearly in distress.
With the tent unzipped, June went to stick her head in when Edgar stopped her. "Allow me," he said, and poked his head inside. "Shit..."
"Well?" June asked.
Edgar said nothing and entered.
June followed.
A man lay on a sleeping bag. He wore only a pair of green boxer shorts. His body was slick with sweat and he was shivering. Dark, shiny spots, like oil stains, appeared along his flesh. His face was scrunched up, eyes closed. He looked to be in pain.
June knelt next to him and put a hand to his head, then quickly pulled it away. "Holy shit," she said. "He's burning up."
"He must've eaten something bad," Edgar said. "Or was poisoned. Bitten by a snake or spider."
"What's going on?" Kim asked, entering the tent. Tyler was right behind her. As soon as she saw the sickly man, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "What's wrong with him?"
"Not sure," Edgar said.
"We need to cool him off," June said.
"With what?" Kim asked.
"Look for towels or something we can wet at the lake," Edgar said.
While everyone looked around, Tyler stared at the man. "You said you think he was poisoned?"
"Maybe," June said. "We don't know."
"Could it be something else, something contagious?" Tyler asked, taking a step back.
June froze. A worried look crossed her face, but only for a moment. "No. I highly doubt it."
Tyler wasn't taking any chances and remained where he was. In fact, he thought it might be best to leave the tent, but he didn't want to appear like an asshole, or afraid. Everyone was looking around the tent. His eyes fell on Edgar, who squatted in front of a black duffel bag. The sick man let loose a cry causing Tyler to jump. He stared at the guy. It was a bit warm in the tent, but not enough to cause so much sweat. The sick dude was shivering and covered in perspiration. Strange-looking blotches, like a combination of age spots and bedsores, covered his skin.
The sound of a zipper being undone. Then: "Holy shit," Edgar cried.
All the flashlight beams moved to shine on Edgar, then the bag of money in front of his kneeling form.
"There's got to be, I don't know, thousands," Edgar said.
Tyler noticed an identical-looking bag next to the one with the cash. Then, as if Edgar read his mind, the man reached over and opened it, revealing more stacks of money.
"What the hell?" June asked.
"Exactly," Edgar said. "What the hell is this guy doing out here with all this cash?"
"Maybe he sold his house and decided to live off nature or something," Kim said, though from the sound of her voice, even she didn't believe her own words.
Tyler knew immediately where the money had come from. He didn't want to believe it, but it had to be true. "It's from that bank."
"What bank?" June asked.
"The one that was robbed this morning," Tyler said. "I got one of those alerts on my phone back when we were near the ranger lodge. I was able to get a signal. There was a news report about a bank robbery. Someone had even been killed."
"And you think that's what this is?" June asked, hands on her hips. "And that this sick man here is the robber?"
"I know it is, and yes," Tyler said. "He's one of the bank robbers. How else do you explain all that money?"
"I . . . don't know," June said, appearing to be contemplating the situation.
"I think he's right," Kim said.
"Helena's only about four hours from here," Tyler said.
"No shit," June said, a little too angrily. "The plane we took landed there."
Good, Tyler thought. She believed him.
"So what now?" Kim asked, clearly shaken.
Silence.
"Was the guy shot?" Edgar asked, standing.
June looked at the sick man and shook her head. "I don't think so. No blood. Not anywhere. No, he's got some kind of infection or poison in his system. We need to get him to a doctor."
"Fuck that," Tyler said. "We need to get ourselves out of here before his friends come back."
"Friends?" Kim asked.
"Do you guys really think he robbed the bank by himself?" Tyler asked.
"Shit," Edgar said. "He's probably right."
"Maybe his friends went to get help," Kim suggested.
"We can't leave him," June said. "We'll leave, but we'll take him with us."
"Screw that," Tyler said. "He'll slow us down."
June ran her fingers through her hair, clearly aggravated. Edgar came over to her.
"He's right," he said, rubbing his hand on her forearm. "This isn't the time for you to be a nurse. It's time for you to realize we could be in a bad situation if we don't leave."
"Yeah," Kim said. "The asshole's a criminal. He did this to himself."
June glared at her. "He might be a criminal, but he doesn't deserve to die."
"A person was murdered at the bank," Tyler said. "A woman. Shot and killed. The assholes that robbed that bank are animals. If they find us, they won't hesitate to kill us, too."
Tyler thought for a second. Guns. Bank robbers usually used firearms. A woman had been shot in the bank. He scanned the tent's interior, but didn't see a gun. His eyes fell to the sick man. If that was him lying there, if he had been the one hiding out in the woods after a bank job, he'd want his gun within reach. There was nothing around the man, except his shirt and pants, the garments heaped into a pile. He moved quickly and nudged
the clothes with his foot. His eyes bulged at the sight before him. He snatched up the weapon, a Smith & Wesson .45.
"Fuck me," Edgar said.
Tyler held the gun, not worried if it had disease on it. He felt powerful and much less afraid than he had a few moments ago. The odds, if the bank robbers returned, would be a bit more even now. He wasn't a killer, but he was a crack shot. He imagined if it came down to defending himself and his friends, life or death, he wouldn't hesitate.
Tyler racked the slide halfway and saw that a bullet was in the chamber. He then popped out the magazine, saw that it was loaded and slid it back in. Safety on.
"You seem to know what you're doing," Edgar said, standing next to him.
"My dad is a gun enthusiast," Tyler said. "He takes me shooting all the time. Rifles and handguns. All makes and models."
"I fucking hate guns," June said.
"You'll be glad we have this one," Tyler said, "if we run into the rest of the bank robbers."
"Most people who have guns wind up shooting themselves, not their attacker," June said.
Tyler wanted to go off on her, tell her that he knew how to use a weapon and that he wasn't some idiot rooting around in the dark of his house after he heard a strange noise. He held his tongue.
"Better we have it than we don't," Kim said.
"Whatever," June said and waved her arm dismissively. "Just keep that thing pointed away from me."
"We're in serious shit here," Kim said, and pulled out her cell phone. "We've stumbled upon a huge deal."
"You aren't getting a signal out here," Edgar said.
"I can try," Kim said, and held her phone up.
"Look, the best thing we can do is hike our asses out of here," Tyler said. "Plain and simple. Tell the cops, rangers, whoever."
"What about the money?" Edgar asked.
"We leave it," Kim said. "It'll only slow us down."
"The money?" June said, angrily. She pointed at the sick man. "If we carry anything out of here, it'll be him."
Edgar rolled his eyes. "Not all of the cash. What if I just take, like, ten grand?"
Tyler couldn't believe what he was witnessing. These people were nuts. They should all be hightailing their asses as far from the area as possible. "Take as much as you want," he said. "Let's just go."
"Do I even know you?" June asked, stepping up to Edgar.
"I'm in a jam back home. I borrowed some money. Made a bad bet, okay. Finding this is like a miracle."
June closed her eyes and looked ready to explode. "How much?"
"Ten grand."
"When were you going to—"
"Enough of this shit," Tyler said, cutting June off. "Have all of you forgotten where we are and who is lying next to us?"
"Go," June said. "Get the hell out of here. I'll stay with him."
"And if the bank robbers return, which I'm sure they will, considering they left the fucking money?" Edgar said.
"He could be the only one who made it," June said.
"I'm not letting you stay behind," Edgar said. "There isn't much you can do. And he could be contagious. You don't know."
June said nothing, only stared at Edgar. Tyler thought the man might've gotten through to her.
"Okay, let's go," Tyler said, heading for the exit.
"What about the money?" Edgar asked.
Tyler paused. "What about it?"
"Yeah," June said, “what about it?"
"Should we take it with us?" Edgar asked. "I mean, just a little taste?"
June crossed her arms. Her mouth didn't move, but her stare said what she was thinking.
Edgar wouldn't look at her.
"Take whatever you want," Tyler said. "But we need to leave."
Edgar looked like a scolded child. It was kind of pathetic. He then turned toward the money.
"Don't even think about it," June said. "That belongs to hardworking people."
"It's insured, June," Tyler said. "Those people didn't lose a penny."
"Babe," Edgar said, stepping in front of June. "Only $10,000. No one will know and it'll get me out of the hole I'm in."
"I can't believe we're still here discussing this shit," Kim said, throwing her arms up.
"Easy for you to say," Edgar said. "You're loaded."
"You want $10,000?" Kim asked. "I'll give you the money. Let's just go."
"Look, the money's probably marked anyway," Tyler said. "Kim and I will help you out."
"Fuck," Edgar said. He hadn't thought of that. He'd seen enough movies to know that money stolen from a bank could be marked. Traceable bills mixed in with the normal ones. Maybe even a locator or something, though he doubted that or the police would've found it already.
But he had people to pay. Dangerous people he had borrowed money from. The debt was his problem and he wasn't going to let his friends, let alone his girlfriend, bail him out. All he needed was a measly $10,000. No, $20,000. This way he could pay off what he owed and have some cash left over to play with. It was worth the risk.
"I'll take my chances," Edgar said. "The money will be out of my hands by the time any of it is found and reported."
"We don't need it," June said. "We'll figure a way out."
"No, we don't. But I do. This is my problem."
Edgar stepped over to the bag of money and picked up a stack of twenties. June followed and swatted it out of his hand.
"Don't try and stop me, June," Edgar warned.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," Kim said. "I'm out of here." She turned and exited the tent.
CHAPTER 10
Cole loaded up the Charger and headed out of the grocery store parking lot. He'd made sure to park the vehicle as far from the building as possible, hoping to avoid any cameras that might've been around. He hadn't spotted any.
Inside, the supermarket did have a few cameras. The mechanical eyes were quite noticeable and easily avoidable except during checkout. But he kept his Cardinal's baseball cap pulled low. Regardless of him and Derek not yet being suspects, he thought it wise not to show his face.
He'd been a bit nervous at first. Almost fled when he thought people were staring at him or on their phones, talking low. He's here! One of the bank robbers! He imagined they were whispering into their cell phones. Somehow, they knew who he was.
But he realized it was all in his mind. He had listened to the radio the whole way to the grocery store, and though there had been talk of the heist, there had not been mention of him or Derek. No one had been looking at him, at least not for being an outlaw. He was simply too good-looking not to look at.
Back in the Charger, he hoped to feel more at ease. The car had always been a comfortable place for him. A second home. The place he'd gotten blown by his hot neighbor when she was drunk and pissed at her cheating husband. It had been his first blowjob, one that stood out among the best.
Besides the pleasant memory, he simply loved cruising around. Hopping in the Dodge and going for a ride, feeling the hum of the engine and its power was exhilarating. There was something about driving that gave him peace of mind, got him away from all that bothered him. It was his escape.
Unfortunately, the safe and secure feelings he had always received when seated behind the wheel of the Charger weren’t there now. He felt exposed, like a ten point buck in the middle of an open field during hunting season. Even painted black, the license plates were the same. If a BOLO did eventually go out—or had gone out secretly—for him and his car, its new color would help in his eluding the authorities for a while, but it was still the same make and model.
Chances were that the police would eventually want to speak with him. It was only logical. But they'd have to find him first. A mishap—getting pulled over for speeding, a broken taillight, an accident—could land him in the clutches of the law. He couldn't allow any of that to happen. All he had to do was drive, maintain the speed limit, wear his seat belt and stay off his cell phone. Don't give the cops a reason to pull him over, not that there were an abundance
of police in the Podunk town he was in.
He'd love to listen to music, the sound of Slayer or Megadeth just what he needed to keep him grounded and his mind from over-thinking. But he kept the radio tuned to the AM news channel, knowing it was the wise thing to do.
Ten minutes since leaving the grocery store, as he was cruising along a stretch of straightaway asphalt and finally feeling as if there was nothing but clear sailing ahead, he saw a police car. The light bar outfitted vehicle was heading toward him in the opposite lane. A small part of him was grateful it hadn't come up behind him; that would've been beyond nerve-wracking. But as it was, his anxiety level had skyrocketed. His mouth was suddenly parched, the moisture seeming to have gone to his palms, the flesh slick with sweat. Nerves caused his foot to shake and the speedometer showed that the Charger was slowing down. He wasn't speeding, but going too slow—if the cop had an operational radar gun—might just be reason enough to garner the cop's suspicion and pull him over. He pressed the gas a little and maintained the speed limit.
Time seemed to slow to an agonizing pace. The cop car was taking forever to reach him. He had to remember to breathe, and the notion brought on a bout of anger. He hated being scared. Hadn't been since he was a kid. Not even during the bank robbery. He'd felt more of a rush then. The anger felt good, allowed him to feel more like himself. Confident. Fuck this pig, he thought, squeezing the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.
His mind worked against him though. It screamed PRISON! One wrong move buddy and you're off to PRISON forever!
Cole growled and continued to let the anger thrive. He wouldn't let fear win. Anger had always been the key to dismissing fear. It was also what had gotten him into trouble. Like the time Joel McDonald was picking on him in the fifth grade. It had gone on for two months before he grew so tired of it and decided to do something bold. He pocketed a roll of pennies one day and waited, of all places, at the bully's locker. When the bell rang and class let out, Joel walked up to him. The bully was flanked by two of his friends. The hallway was teeming with students, who quickly took notice of the situation. Cole kept his hands in his pockets and wrapped his fingers around the pennies and attacked Joel without warning as the kid guffawed at him. Cole hit Joel square in the nose with everything he had. Blood exploded from Joel's nostrils, decorating the front of his blue and white striped shirt.
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