"You morons," Alex said, shaking his head. "It's out of gas. How could you not notice that? Isn't there a fuel gauge?"
"Broken," Anthony said. "Is this pile of junk an Edsel or what? I've seen houses that handle better."
"Jesus," Alex sighed.
"So, what do we do?" Jake asked. "Do we need to go back to Maple Crossing?"
"Do we have any money?" Sarah inquired. "We're gonna need some for gas."
"Umm…" Alex began, checking the backpack. He looked at the pocket where the money was kept. It contained three cents, shining copper coins that seemed to be taunting him. "Yes," he lied. "We have about three or four dollars. I'll get a gallon can."
"Wait a minute," Jake cut in. "Is it safe for you to go alone?"
"Safer than there only being two of us with the car," Alex said. "I'll be right back."
He didn't have any specific plan in mind for how to get the gasoline. He would try conning, lying, the "starving children's charity". He had a few tricks up his sleeve.
The events at Transit Quality Fuel had put Alex off gas stations for a long while, but as it was, the station in Maple Crossing had something they needed. Alex had formulated a plan that he assumed would appeal to the station manager's good side.
Maple Crossing was a small town, possibly even smaller that Niagara. It had begun to snow sometime that morning, and the snowflakes were still persisting to float to earth from the grey skies. This had all the buildings in town blanketed in picturesque white snow. Walking down main street, Alex thought that this was a scene right out of the end of a movie. He imagined that a man would run along this street after a woman, and would tell her he'd always loved her. Then they would kiss, and the credits would roll.
Laughing mildly at this thought, he strolled into the gas station. On his way toward the pumps he glanced sideways at a convertible that seemed extremely flashy to be this far out of any city. Probably, someone had gotten themselves lost. In any case, it wasn't worth paying too much mind. He was glad for the snow—a few snowflakes on his jacket would evoke some sympathy. It's the little touches, he thought.
The conversation, however, went decidedly worse than he had expected.
The manager was standing by the pumps, talking to an attendant. Alex didn't get noticed right away; it was only when the manager ended his conversation and started away that he saw him. "Hey, kid, get outta my way. I got stuff to do."
"I need your help, sir," Alex said, trying to look younger than he was. "Does this station—"
"You're not supposed to be in here, you know."
"Sir, please. Would this station give me a gas can?"
The manager looked slightly irked at the last question. "Kid, you want a gas can, ask your daddy to pay for it."
"He can…we ran out of gas five miles from here. Please, if you give me a can of gas now, we can mail you a check. If you told me the address of this place…"
"Kid, I'd love to help you. I really would," he said, with an incredible lack of sincerity. "I'd give you a can, but if someone sees me handing out favors, they're gonna want it too. Pretty soon, people are getting free gas at all our stations, and central management cans my ass. I'm sorry."
"But we'd pay for it. I said—"
"Look, kid, I don't even know if your daddy's car ran out. He could just be sending you to swindle me. Why didn't he just come himself?"
Alex didn't know how to respond. He had not prepared the eventuality of the situation not going his way. He had been extremely confident—too confident, he supposed. He was pondering leaving when something quite unexpected occurred.
"Excuse me," someone called. The voice had a slight Hispanic tinge, not enough to be called an accent.
"Sorry, kid," the manager said, turning toward the source of the voice, "I've got paying customers to attend to."
"No, stay here, sir. I'm here to do this poor kid a favor."
The man was standing next to Alex now. He tried to put his hand on Alex's shoulder, but Alex moved away. There was something radiating from this man, some dark feeling that Alex did not like. Some may have called it a bad vibration. He was smiling, but his eyes held a cold, calculating look that this was not a man to be trusted…moreover, that this was a man to be feared.
He was very tall, and Alex, who was tall for his age, felt dwarfed beside him. He spoke in the same American accent with the slight Hispanic touch.
"I couldn't help overhearing," the man said, still smiling his false smile, "that the young man here is having a cash flow problem."
"Yes…" Alex said, uncertainly.
"My name is Juan. Juan Gutierrez. And I'm going to pay for your gas can."
"Um, thank you, sir…but I can't accept that," Alex said. "Excuse me." He turned to leave.
"I insist," Gutierrez said, stepping in front of him. He produced a ten-dollar bill. "This should cover a two-gallon can," he said, handing it to the manager. He walked inside the station and came out with a can of gas, which he placed in front of Alex.
This was a kind gesture, but Alex still didn't like the look of Juan Gutierrez. He took the can. It was heavy, but it felt good to have it—no matter who had given it to him. "Thank you, Mr. Gutierrez. I apologize if I don't stick around. My parents and I are in kind of a hurry."
"I understand completely. If you're ever in Maple Crossing, remember my name." With that, he walked off. Alex decided he should leave soon as well, in case the manager got mad at him.
Several yards down the street, Ordoñez turned back to look at Alex. He smiled, and silently laughed.
Sensing that there was enough space, he turned, in silent pursuit.
Sarah was keeping a lookout outside the car when he returned, lugging the gas can. Her face brightened when she saw it.
"You got it! How'd you steal it?"
"As a matter of fact, I got this one legitimately," Alex said, with a slight but noticeable air of superiority.
Sarah lost her smile at this in favor of an apprehensive look. "How? We're broke," she said, and then added, "Do I want to know this?"
"This guy just walked up and bought it for me. It was really weird, but at this point I'll take what I can get."
"Wait a minute. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to trust stuff you get from strangers?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. However, since they were the same people who told me that practically everything I do will kill me, and I'm not dead yet, I don't put much stock in what they say." He had, in fact, forgotten the odd feeling of foreboding he had felt around Juan Gutierrez.
The can got them to the next town, where they filled their tank by selecting to pay inside and quickly driving off. The cashier spat and threw them the finger, but it didn't mean much; certainly, it wasn't the first time this had happened. Anthony was getting irritable, as his cigarette supply was running low. That morning's snow was still falling, and would continue long into the night.
That night, the police found them.
The Canadian authorities had been quick to action when Niagara alerted them, and a section of the Provincial Police was mobilized. However, it took them a while to pinpoint the location of the old Ford, moving along the transit as fast as it was able, Anthony or Jake driving and cursing at the speed and handling characteristics.
The cruisers stealthily trailed the Ford, keeping their lights and sirens off. It was Anthony who saw the two cars first, as he watched the wing mirrors.
"Jesus! Get down!"
"Anthony? What's going on?" Sarah asked, rousing herself from sleep.
"Just get down!"
Jake looked behind and saw what Anthony had seen. "Police cars. We're doomed," he said, shaking his head. "We're screwed."
"Don't despair yet, Jake," Alex said. He was smiling, which was always a bad sign. "Anthony, give me the wheel. I think it's time I learned how to drive."
Anthony was naturally opposed to this idea. "You're insane. You've had some dumb ideas, Alex, but this one beats them all."
As he said this, Al
ex leapt. He was sitting behind Jake, which gave him a clear diagonal shot at the driver's seat. He threw himself at Anthony, knocking him aside and standing with one foot on the seat and one in the median. Before Anthony could rise, Alex grabbed the wheel. Jake shouted, Sarah screamed, and the Provincial Police decided to blow their cover. The sirens blared suddenly, shattering all that was left of the night's calm, and the lights whirled. The two cars drove at them, attempting to stop them from moving, possibly trying to intimidate them.
The stretch of the Quebec Transit that they had been traveling ran alongside a thin pine forest. Alex, with dominion over the wheel, swung the car to the right, sending them into the trees. There was a lot of space between the pines, more than enough for a path to be maneuverable, and Alex wanted to take no chances with the police. He drove the car further from the road, the wheels spitting snow and grinding as if in pain—conditions were not ideal.
Anthony rose then, and to their surprise, opened the door.
"Don't jump, Anthony!" Alex called, laughing wildly. "It's almost to the good part!"
As they watched, one of the police cars tried to follow them. It entered the trees to the right of where they had, and began moving onto their path. The second followed not long after the first, trailing them.
"As much as I like the idea of you learning to drive, I'm afraid the lesson is over!" Anthony shouted. Before anybody could act, he grabbed Alex and threw him out the door into the snow.
"Anthony!" Sarah yelled. "What the hell!?"
Anthony took the wheel again, seeing the first police cruiser bearing down on them, less than ten yards away. The driver faked left, right, trying to trick them, yelling something on a bullhorn.
Jake had obviously seen something that Sarah and Anthony hadn't, because he suddenly seemed more alert, as if working on something in his mind. "Anthony," he said, "be ready to act on my word. That car gave me an idea."
"I'll try anything," Anthony said, through gritted teeth. "God, that idiot Alex!" They were so far away from the road now that they could not even see it. This was bad—it was a shared feeling among all of them that if they could see the Transit, they would stay alive. Now they were disconnected. This was bad.
Jake watched through the back window. "Slow down," he called to Anthony.
"Sure," Anthony replied. "And while we're trying to get killed, let's also jump off a cliff."
"Just shut up and do it, god damn it!" Jake said, revealing his tempermental streak. "We want that car to get closer to us."
It was working. The distance was closing—seven yards, six yards, five…
Alex heaved himself up, spitting snow, and saw the second police cruiser in the distance, its headlights shining beacons in the darkness of the night. The cruiser turned suddenly, and he was caught in those very lights. Quickly, he dodged behind a tree and attempted to blend in with the shadows.
"We don't want to have to use force," a grainy voice from a megaphone informed him. "You are hereby under arrest, charged with the murders of Marcia Philbrook, Harold Quinn and Louis Mauter. Co-operate and nobody will be harmed."
Alex took this news hard. Murder? It does explain why they've been following us in so much force, he thought. Those names, though. He racked his brains, but couldn't come up with any reference to any of the three victims.
Suddenly, something caught the corner of his eye. The first car was right in front of him. The second, he could hear in the forest to his right. But…there was another light, to his left. It seemed to small to be a headlight beam; in fact, it looked rather more like a flashlight. The beam roved back and forth, and Alex pushed himself further into the shadows.
"Three yards between him and us!" Sarah called.
"Now, Anthony," Jake commanded. "Let go of the wheel!"
Without giving Anthony time to consider the option, Jake forced himself on Anthony much as Alex had done. He threw the wheel right, sending the car through a tight gap between two trees. As they watched, the police car ground against one tree, swerved, and crashed into another. An airbag exploded in the front, and the driver leapt from the car, shouting. Anthony was visibly impressed.
"Nice work, Jake," he said. "What did I have to slow down for, though? We could have pulled that off at a bigger distance."
"Yeah, I know," Jake said. "But I didn't want to kill him. That would just make things worse."
The car hit a snowbank and skidded to a halt soon after, as they were looking for the highway again. The three of them had to get out and push, and the work was difficult, not to mention cold. They would have to push the whole way, too—the car had been on a downward incline going out, and would not go uphill so easily.
"This would be a lot easier if you hadn't dumped Alex," Sarah muttered.
"What was I supposed to do?" Anthony said defensively. "He looked like he was going crazy!"
"Actually, I think he just had the same idea as me," Jake put in. "He just had a bad way of getting it across."
"Geez." Anthony wiped his brow. "This is going nowhere. Someone should go out and look for the highway.
"And Alex," he added as an afterthought.
They elected Jake, and he trudged off in search of the sound of engines. He heard one soon, but it was too close to be on the highway. Jake quickly looked around.
"Is anybody there!?" a crackling voice called.
Jake froze. There had been two police cruisers! The wrecked one, after giving up on finding them, had radioed his partner, who was now hunting with extra zeal. That was when he saw the same thing Alex had; a solitary light. Its owner, whoever it was, apparently had all the time in the world. He walked slowly, searching every shadow.
Alex, from his hiding place, breathed a sigh of relief. However, there was still the flashlight to worry about. It could be a foot searcher. Confident that he couldn't be heard, Alex dodged from the shadows and began running. He heard other footsteps soon after—the flashlight's owner?
To his great relief, it was only Jake, also fleeing the man.
"Jake, is everyone alright? Where are the cops?"
"Shut up," he whispered. "That guy will hear us."
He already had.
The flashlight's pace began to quicken, the man's footfalls echoing through the woods. Alex and Jake, sensing the danger, broke into a run. Alex checked to see if his friend was still beside him…and he wasn't.
Jake had fallen in a thicket several yards back. The flashlight clicked off and its owner approached. Jake looked up, frozen in fear. The man pulled him up by his arm and hit him across the head with a gun barrel, a blow just hard enough to knock him unconscious. Alex ran forward. His friend was out cold, and he was genuinely angry—he meant to kill this man.
Agape, he stopped short.
He saw the smiling face of Juan Gutierrez.
"I'm afraid I lied to you, Mr. Orson," he said coldly. "My name is Ordoñez." He clicked the hammer of his gun, just to frighten Alex. Knowing he couldn't do anything, Alex could only watch as his unconscious friend was dragged away.
When Alex, after running blindly through the woods, found the place where Sarah and Anthony were pushing the car, he was not enraged, as they had both expected, but white-faced and apparently terrified. Indeed, he was—the combined mysterious loss of Jake and accusations of murder had done that.
"Jake's gone!" he shouted when they came within earshot.
"What?" Sarah called back.
"This guy just knocked him out and dragged him off!"
"Was it one of the police?"
"No! It—it was the guy who bought me that can of gas."
"I told you to be careful of him!"
"What does he want with Jake?" Anthony asked. "Maybe it's some kind of civilian arrest thing. This guy could be out for cash."
"Like you?" Sarah retorted.
"Shut up!" Alex said. "This is not the time! We have to get back on the highway."
With Alex's added force, and the fact that they were already closer than they thought, i
t didn't take them long before they could see the Transit again. The news had frightened everybody. Every noise they heard was a police siren, every twig snapping, a gunshot. Once the car was close enough to the highway to drive back on, they did see the police siren again, flashing red and blue through the black forest. However, it was not going anywhere, although they could hear wheels turning. The car was stuck fast.
In a normal situation, the three of them would have laughed hysterically, but this was no normal situation, and they took the opportunity to run. They would have to travel several miles; the police, having given up for the night, probably would start again in the morning. During the drive, Alex filled them in on all that had happened, from when he was thrown off (Anthony didn't apologize) to his sighting of Ordoñez.
Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller Page 10