“Anything would be better than this thing. And think about all the gas we’re using. This thing probably gets fifteen per gallon.”
“Oh, now you’re an environmentalist?”
Darrell gripped the minivan’s steering wheel with both hands, stared straight ahead, and pressed down on the accelerator.
“Slow it down,” Mike ordered.
Darrell kept his foot on the gas. Mike punched him in the neck. With a huff, Darrell brought it down to sixty. A moment later they reached the top of the mountain and began their descent.
Darrell couldn’t let it go. “We’re not going to get there until sunrise, and we’re going to be easier to spot.”
Mike struggled to remain calm. He couldn’t risk drawing Darrell into a shouting match when the hothead was driving. He carefully controlled his voice and said, “Maybe you just don’t understand certain things. We’re going to be really easy to spot if we get pulled over. And if I’m found in Cali, I’m screwed, which means you’re screwed.”
“But you got that ID.”
“I don’t know if it’ll fly and I’m not risking ten years to find out.”
“We’re not getting pulled over and if we do, I’ll flash my badge.”
Mike tried not to laugh. “You have a badge?”
“Yeah. I’m an officer.”
“You’re a security guard.”
“I’m a security officer. I can arrest people just like cops do.”
Mike shook his head. “Your badge won’t get us out of a ticket, and I don’t want anyone searching the car. As far as the gas mileage goes, you’re worried about spending an extra twenty bucks.”
“Probably more like forty. We’re down to a half tank.”
“You’re making fifteen hundred for an eight-hour trip.” Mike turned to the window. “You need to let it go.”
The thunderstorm was getting worse. Rain pelted the van with a fury and cloaked the desert. Being stuck in the van with Darrell when he was in one of his foul moods sucked, but at least they were warm and dry.
“When do you think I can go by myself and start making some real money?” Darrell asked.
“Real money?” Mike laughed. “It takes you three weeks playing rent-a-cop to make fifteen hundred.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Trust me; I want you to start making the trip alone as soon as possible. I really don’t wanna get popped for violating. But first a couple things need to happen. Figure on coming out with me at least three more times before Jimmy trusts you. So maybe next month. February at the latest.”
“What else?”
“Prove to me that you can chill on these trips. I’d be putting my ass on the line letting you make the run yourself. We’re talking major money here.”
“I can chill. I’m chillin’. And I like it when you put your ass on the line.”
Mike ignored the remark. “No speeding. No reckless driving. No stopping anywhere but for gas. No unnecessary calls.”
“Yeah, that’s …” Darrell cut himself off and looked out Matt’s window. Craning his neck, his eyes followed something they passed on the side of the road.
“What are you looking at?”
“There was a car back there.” Darrell checked the rearview mirror. “They’re so screwed.”
Mike looked out the back, unable to see through the rain. “There’s nothing out there.”
“It was a car.”
Mike sat back in his chair. “Even if it was, it’s not on our concern.”
“You don’t have to be a dick.”
“If they don’t have a cell, I’m sure the cops will be by and call a tow truck for them.”
“They better hurry. That’s not the place to break down,” Darrell said.
“They’re less than ten miles from Baker.”
Darrell shook his head. “No, man. You never heard about this area?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You wouldn’t believe the number of people that get killed out here.”
“Outside of Baker?”
“Yeah. At least fifty deaths in the last year. You have no idea. You’re from Vegas. You guys don’t care about the crazy stuff that happens out here.”
“I’m sure I would have heard about it if fifty people got killed.”
“Hell, I’d say at least fifty, and I stopped looking it up.”
“You want me to believe fifty people died out here?” Mike asked.
“They found some bones and the rest just vanished.”
“Some bones? Vanished? I thought you said fifty died. It sounds more like missing.”
“They listed them all as missing, but they’re dead. No bullshit.” Darrell peered out Matt’s window as if he could see something out there. Mike caught himself looking, too, but the impenetrable darkness blocked everything except the two feet of highway to his right.
Mike said, “I bet it was just people leaving and never coming back. If I grew up in Baker, I’d vanish the second I was old enough to drive.”
“Yeah, but would you leave your car on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere? Would your bones be found weeks later, picked clean, not a scrap of meat left on them?”
“You’re an idiot.”
Darrell shook his head. “I’m telling you the truth. There’s something out there.”
Matt’s cell phone vibrated. He told Darrell to shut up before he answered it.
“Where the hell are you?” the gruff voice said.
“What’s up, Jimmy? We’re …”
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the last twenty minutes. Where the hell are you?”
“We passed Baker about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. We should … Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, you there?” Mike looked at the cell’s screen and shook his head. “Frickin’ T-Mobile.”
“What’d he say?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. It’s fine.” Mike didn’t want to think about Jimmy. He asked, “So what were you saying about all the disappearances? You think it’s aliens? Chupacabra?”
“It’s not funny, man. People die out here.”
“I’m sure they do.” Another vibration. “Hold on, it’s Jimmy again.” He answered the call. “What’s up, Jimmy?”
“Did you hit state line yet?”
“No, we’re still about sixty miles from Vegas, maybe thirty to the border.”
“What are you driving?”
“I don’t know, looks like a Dodge. Yeah, it’s a Dodge.”
“A Dodge what?”
“Hey, Darrell, what is this thing?” Mike asked. “What model?”
“Caravan.” Just loud enough for Mike to hear, Darrell said, “We could’ve had a Cadillac.”
“Hear that? A Caravan.”
“What’s the license plate number?”
Mike opened up the glovebox, pulled out the registration, and read off the number.
Jimmy yelled, “You dumb shits! Pull it over!”
“What are you talking about? We’re in the middle of nowhere and it’s pouring.”
“Pull it over!” Jimmy barked.
“You’re breaking up. I’ll pull over at the rest stop. There’s one up ahead a few miles. I saw a sign.”
“No, you ass clown! You’ve been made …”
The signal faded, leaving Mike with a dead line.
“What was that all about?” Darrell asked.
“Jimmy wants us to pull over. I think he said we were made.”
“Are you kidding? We can’t pull over.”
“He said —”
“You said, you thought he said we were made. Maybe he was saying something else.”
“Like what? He wanted us to pull over.”
“Call him back.”
Another vibration. “This is him right now. Pull over while I have reception.”
“Are you serious?”
“Just pull over. I don’t wanna lose him,” Mike said. “What’s up, Jimmy? You hear me?”
“Pul
l over, Matt! You’ve been made.”
“You sure? How do you know?”
“Paul got popped about an hour after you left. Vice swarmed the house and they knew what they were looking for. The only thing they found was the money, but Paul must’ve sold you out. Paul’s girl told me about the bust, so I started monitoring police radio. They’ve got an APB out on the van. Ditch the cargo.”
“Tell me you’re joking.” Mike glanced over his shoulder, ready to see flashing lights coming up behind them.
“You ditch that stuff. Find somewhere safe, go on to Vegas, get another set of wheels and pick it up tomorrow night.”
“Where? Where am I going to stash it? I’m in the middle of the goddamned desert.”
“Somewhere someone else ain’t gonna stumble onto it. And don’t leave the van anywhere near it.”
“I know.” Mike checked the side window, wished he could see more than a few feet through the sea of darkness. “But how are we supposed to get to Vegas.”
“Use your fucking feet. Just don’t do anything stupid. If you need to, you can crash at my pad.”
“Whatever you say, Jimmy. And thanks for the heads up. I’ll find a place for this stuff and get back to you.”
As Mike hung up, Darrell asked, “So what’s happening?”
Mike stuffed the cell into his pocket. “We need to dump the cargo. Cops are looking for the van.”
“Dump it?”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“They won’t catch us. And if they did, it’s my first offense. They’ll let me go.”
“We have two hundred pounds. That’s trafficking. If we get stopped we’re both screwed.”
Darrell shifted to park and took his foot off the brake. “So what do we do? Where do we stash it?”
Mike thumbed toward his window. “Somewhere out there.”
“No way, man. That ain’t happening. How about the rest stop?”
“Too many people. And they’ve got cameras.” Mike peered through the windshield. He spotted a line of cars a mile down the hill. Brake lights. “They’ve already blocked off the road.”
“You don’t know that. There could be an accident.” Darrell clearly didn’t believe that though, because he asked, “You really think they’re looking for us?”
“It sure as hell isn’t a coincidence. Let’s get the stuff out of here before someone rolls by and spots us.”
“I can’t go out there.”
Mike shook his head in disgust.
“I’m not kidding. There’re bad things out there.”
“Bullshit. Even if there were, I guarantee there are worse things in prison.”
Darrell closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out. When he opened his eyes, he pulled his Ruger SR40 from his waistband, where he kept it concealed under his bulging belly.
Mike reached over and pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Put on your hood.”
Darrell leaped from the van without a word. Mike met him underneath the canopy of the open rear hatch.
“Are we going to bury it?” Darrell asked.
“With what? I didn’t pack a shovel.”
“So where do we put these?” Darrell asked, looking at the two huge suitcases. At least they were hard-shells and not canvas.
“Those hills.” Mike pointed toward a shadowy range running parallel with the road. “There’s got to be some rocks where we can hide them.”
Darrell stared through the rain. “You have any idea how far that is? No way.”
“Hundred yards or so. We’ll be there in a minute. Come on.”
“No way. That’s at least three hundred. We’ll be soaked.”
“We’re gonna have worse problems than that.” Mike dragged the first suitcase out of the car, surprised by how heavy it was, and then raised the wheel well cover. Before Darrell noticed, he grabbed the .38 Special he had hidden there and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “Come on, it’s letting up.” It wasn’t, but Mike was already crossing the muddy stretch of road that bordered the highway.
Mike heard the second suitcase hit the pavement and the rear door slam shut. Reluctantly, Darrell followed, but not without finding new combinations of curse words. The complaining didn’t last long. Dragging one hundred pounds through the treacherous terrain and torrential downpour wore them out.
Halfway to the hills, Mike set his suitcase down in a clearing. He acted like it was so he could check on his partner, and not because of the burning sensation in his arms and lungs. He heard Darrell’s grunts over the rain slapping the hard desert floor, but couldn’t see him. A loud hiss sliced through the air. Mike whirled around and backed up looking for the serpent, his hand on the .38’s grip, but he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness. Still, the hiss sliced through the deluge. When Darrell entered the clearing a few seconds later, the hissing stopped.
Darrell dropped his suitcase onto its side. He was breathing so hard Mike feared his overweight boyfriend would have a heart attack. “Goddamn, this is heavy,” Darrell said. “How much farther?” he asked between gasps, looking past Mike toward the hills.
“We got a way to go. I’m tired too, but we need to keep moving. This is still too close.”
“We aren’t going to make it.”
“What?” Mike stepped onto a rock but couldn’t see over the small hill that blocked their view of the highway.
“Last I looked they were all over the van. Three cars.”
Mike scrambled up the rocky hill, the sight of the flashing lights making him nauseous.
Darrell asked, “Now what? They’re gonna be all over this area. What if we make it to the rest stop and jack a car? That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“They’re going to be crawling all over it. They know we’re close. The hills are our only shot.”
“So then what? What the hell do we do even if we make it?”
“First off, we hide the suitcases. We can’t get caught with this. They’ll still bust me for violating, but that’s better than the alternative.” Mike tried to control his shivering. “Let’s move before they get a helicopter out here. They’ll know we’re on this side of the highway.”
“Maybe they’ll think someone picked us up.”
“No way. And watch where you’re stepping.” Mike grabbed the suitcase and dragged it up and over a large rock. “Snakes are out.”
“Nah. They’re not out now.”
The burning sensation returned to his shoulders. “I know what I heard.”
“Well you didn’t hear a snake. They hibernate in winter. Must’ve been something else.”
In no mood to argue, Mike pushed forward, leaving Darrell behind. Soaked and exhausted, Mike stopped after a hundred yards. The rain was letting up, but that wasn’t a good thing. Mike could see the cops still by the van, which meant they could probably see him. The mountains, which he had thought were hills, were still half a mile away.
Mike crouched down, holding his head in both hands. He’d rest while Darrell caught up and then they’d make one last run for the mountains. They could make it, he told himself. A hiss rustled in the bushes. He looked around. It wasn’t rain. There wasn’t a drop falling. The hiss grew louder. It sounded as if it were coming from two different directions.
Mike stood and pulled out his piece. He wasn’t scared of snakes, and he refused to get bitten and die lying on top of a suitcase of Ecstasy.
The clouds slid over and let the moon shine through. Even with its light, Mike couldn’t see much. Sand, brush, rocks, cacti, and more sand. No snakes.
He did see Darrell huffing his way up the slight incline; his face was drenched, only this time from sweat, not rain. Once again the hissing stopped.
“The … choppers … out,” Darrell said in between gulping breaths. He dropped the suitcase onto the damp sand and bent over, hands resting on his knees. “We’re screwed. That hill won’t hide us much longer.”
“We need to keep moving,” Mike said.
Darrell raise
d his arms over his head, something he must have seen an athlete do on TV, only Mike doubted the athlete’s belly had poured over his belt.
“Come on, Darrell, that’s long enough. We have to hit the mountains.” Mike left out that they’d already have been there if Darrell had taken care of himself.
“I’m too tired.”
“I’ll leave you.”
“Go ahead.” Darrell sat on a rock. “I can’t move.”
“I’ll leave you in the dark with the cops, and the snakes, and whatever little boogie monster you think is out here.”
“There ain’t no snakes. I told you.”
“Well, there’s something out here hissing and I’m leaving you with it. Are you coming?”
“Hold on, goddammit. I never should’ve come.”
“I didn’t hear you bitching when I asked you before. You weren’t complaining about making some cash.” Mike picked up the suitcase, hoping it would be easier to carry than it was to drag. “We get through this, and Jimmy will put you on any score you want.”
That finally got Darrell on his feet. In the ten minutes it took to make it to the base of the mountain, the helicopter hadn’t advanced much. It was too early for Mike to get his hopes up, but it looked as if he might make it out of this thing a free man. Darrell might not, but that was his own fault. If the fat bastard had taken care of himself, he wouldn’t be on the verge of passing out as he tried to keep up.
“Now what?” Darrell said.
“We hide the suitcases.” Mike pointed to the small cave twenty yards uphill. “In there.”
Without a word, Darrell began the ascent. Mike nearly ran into him when Darrell came to an abrupt stop right outside the opening.
“What the hell’s the matter? Get in there,” Mike ordered.
Darrell whispered, “It’s dark.”
Mike shouldered past him. “You give gays a bad name.”
“I think I heard something.”
“What? What could be out here? Mountain lion? Get out your gun and watch your step.”
“It sounded like some kind of hissing.”
Mike took a few steps past the entrance and turned around. “I thought you said they were hibernating.”
“T-they should be,” Darrell stammered.
Mike heard the low hiss, but pretended he hadn’t. He turned back to Darrell. “You want to make money, you want more responsibility, and you want to do the runs yourself. Why should Jimmy let you? You’re afraid of the dark. Afraid of snakes. What else are you afraid of, Darrell?”
Twisted Reunion Page 8