Minus Tide Page 13

  But where?

  He closed his eyes and drifted off for maybe half an hour. When he heard someone walking across the graveled lot from behind he thought it was her and got out of the car.

  “Ann?” He couldn’t see her. Then he saw an explosion of light.

  Chapter 37

  “Do you really have to point that thing at me?”

  “Shut up, James.” The sheriff bit a cigarette with his teeth and walked it to the corner of his mouth. “You got a light?”

  “If I talk are you going to shoot me?”

  “I will if you don’t hand over your lighter.”

  James pulled the lighter from his pants pocket and felt his fingertips ski over the.38. Thank god the stolen hoodie was two sizes larger and hung down to his hips. Was the sheriff forgetting protocol? This was worse somehow.

  “Thanks.” The sheriff turned his head sideways so he could keep his good eye on James. He lit his cigarette. “I’ll be borrowing this for awhile.”

  “Be my guest. I know what you are, man. I’ve always known what you’re all about.”

  “And what’s that wise-blood? You learn something other than sucking dick down in old Mexico?”

  “Enjoy your career Sheriff. Soon as those roads are clear the sooner your career ends.”

  The muzzle came in fast, pushed up into his ear and exhaling cold nothing, like the spaces between stars. Had James misjudged him? Would his brains soon be dripping off the interior of the car? He wondered if the sheriff would find the money afterwards. James couldn’t think of a better car to die in.

  The gun pulled away. James’ ear rang and he put his hand up to it to feel for blood but it came away clean. He was screwed. Being reckless had kept the sheriff from suspecting his was armed but it wouldn’t do any good to have a gun if it was hard to get to fast. If he only arrests me, what will he do about the car? Maybe not a thing. It might be a long time before the dentist ever comes down. He could be in Hawaii playing with his balls.

  “Do you want to tell me something now?” the sheriff asked.

  James nodded. He dangled a cigarette out of the window and the sheriff lit it for him.

  “You caught me Sheriff. I’ve done bad. But I was just going to take her for a ride is all. I would’ve even wiped her down good and clean before I put her away.”

  The sheriff threw his smoke on the ground and crushed it out. What’s taking Cuke so fucking long, he wondered.

  “I appreciate you trying to be honest with me, James. But it doesn’t suit you. Because you and I both know that you’re just another confused white boy badass wannabe.”

  “Do you have to insult me?”

  “Yeah. Because it makes me feel good dammit. And I won’t believe a word until I get Cuke to search you and the trunk.”

  “Why didn’t you do it in the first place, instead of sending Cuke into the house?”

  “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t done anything wrong in there. There’s nobody hurt in there or anything?

  “Jesus, Sheriff. You know me better than that. You just said I didn’t have it in me. What’s taking Coach so long? He must be using the can or something. Or making himself a sandwich…”

  The sheriff kept silent and lit another cigarette. The thought of food made him feel suddenly starved. How long had it been since he’d eaten? All he’d thought about was Cuke’s whiskey. He hadn’t even asked him for something to eat.

  They should’ve just ignored him, not even stopped. Who cares if he steals the dentist’s car? Probably insured the hell out of the thing anyway. If there’s nothing on him or in the trunk, you might as well not waste your time on the punk.

  James tilted his head so he could see into the sheriff’s face. “You okay Dawkins?”

  “I’d like to know what in the hell is taking Cuke so long. I should have told him that he was too old for this shit.”

  “Well it was you who deputized him, wasn’t it?”

  “No. I only asked if I could borrow his car. And a few guns.”

  It would have been too easy to keep screwing with the Sheriff, but James decided to let it ride. At first he’d wanted to mix it up for old times, that if he was indeed going down he might as well have a good time on the way. But the feeling had passed and he’d lost the taste for it. He saw a shadow move next to the dentist’s house and soon a figure emerged into the moonlight.

  Coach Cuke appeared much older than James remembered him. His hips had gone to hell, making it hard for him to walk very fast. He held a rifle James had seen him carrying during elk season.

  “Cuke,” said the sheriff, turning. “What the hell happened?

  “Nobody in there Sheriff. Doesn’t look like he stole nothing either except some candy bars and a drink. A few clothes maybe.”

  The sheriff turned around and brought up the pistol. “Why did you need clothes? What’s wrong with your old ones, James?’

  “I told you. I was down near the jetty and got hit by a sneaker wave. I was completely soaked and freezing to death.”

  “Or maybe your old clothes got blood on them?”

  “Give me a break dude. You think I enjoy wearing his clothes? They smell like booze, man. Booze and ass. Listen, I knew I was doing wrong, but I did it anyway. We’re all in kind of survivor mode right now, aren’t we? And when I saw this car I heard a voice inside that told me I needed to drive this car. It told me it would change my life.”

  Cuke stepped up beside the sheriff. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He glanced at the sheriff’s cigarette and shook his head. The sheriff dropped it on the ground and crushed it out with his shoe.

  “What do we do next, sheriff? I thought we were going after Russians, not punks like home slice over there.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I see a whole lot of things I could nail him for. Breaking and entering, grand larceny. But what if he says he’ll never come back to my county ever again? What if I make him write it in his own blood?”

  Cuke’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m only joking, Cuke. What do you say James? Let us have a quick look and we’ll be on our way?’

  James palmed the.38 through the hoodie. He’d managed to shift it forward. Could he get it out fast? He’d smelled alcohol when the sheriff lit his smoke. All he had to do was watch for those drunken gazes at nothing and he’d have a few seconds or more to make a move.

  “Did you hear me James?” Dawkins asked.

  “Where do you want to start?”

  “You can start by popping the trunk and keeping your hands on the dash where I can see them. Cuke, you go on and check it.”

  They all heard it, the van’s engine angry with spit and sand, then a dark form roaring up the tree-lined road like a ghost.

  It skidded to a stop and a light came on inside. Cuke and Dawkins backed up next to Cuke’s Mercury in a hurry. James watched the driver’s window move down. As the smoky glass dipped further, he saw that the side of the man’s face was raw and bleeding. It’s from the shrapnel, he thought. When Ann had shot at him, he’d been hit by pieces of exploded mussel shell.

  The van’s headlights were off and any red lights that may have existed had been smashed. A clear sign of desperation. James recognized the sound of the engine. It had gone by the dentist’s house several times while he’d been inside.

  The Russian got out of the van and walked up to the Skylark, let his eyes drift briefly over it. He raised the sawed-off and smiled.

  “Your car?” he asked politely.

  Chapter 38

  The boat had broken free and drifted into a small cove that lay before the jetty, the last stop before crushing waves spat out whatever escaped to the open sea.

  At low tide there was a crescent shaped beach where the sea lions sometimes came to sleep off a successful lunch. Black waves now lapped against a rocky slope. The beach was gone. When Ann was younger she would spend hours watching sea lions slog around on their bellies. Belching and barking, t
rading stories and frequently acting out slapstick scenes. Like the elk, they also had a presence about them that drew her in, although to entirely different places. She’d decided long ago that they must have given us their sense of humor.

  As she got to the end of the bank she noticed the boat was being circled by driftwood and plastic bottles. From a distance it had looked much closer to shore.

  You can’t get back in the water again. You just got dry.

  She combed the shore for anything that might be useful, couldn’t find any rope or wire to make a catch-line. It was looking hopeless. Either she waded out into the cold water or she walked back the way she’d just come.

  What are you going to do now?

  She sat on a rock and studied the boat for several minutes, noticing how it had come closer to shore and then circled back around along the edge of a ridge-backed current moving swiftly past. While she watched, several driftwood logs spun off from the boat-nucleus and got swept up by a stronger current, the bay’s conduit to the open sea. It would only be a matter of time, she realized, before the boat would also complete a final circuit in the cove before escaping.

  If she made it inside the boat, there wouldn’t be a lot of time for her get the motor started. Assuming that the motor would start. She never trusted gas engines much, had never developed a knack for them.

  Because her leg burned so much from the saltwater, she almost welcomed the cold. She waded out toward the boat, afraid the next step could be a drop off into far deeper water. Her breath quickened and she began to shiver. She thought she saw some seals raise their heads to watch her.

  This is suicide and you know it.

  When the water reached chest height, she could no longer feel her feet, didn’t even know if she was drifting over deeper water or not. Then all of a sudden she felt as if something were pulling her straight out to the main current.

  This is it. This is how you’re going to die. You’ll become one of those fog ghosts for sure.

  The boat was behind her now, closer to shore than she was. She breast stroked as hard as she could to go back, but her arms went numb. And then she remembered she wasn’t alone, that she was accompanied by an entourage of circling drift wood. When she kicked toward one log to grab hold of it, her eddy sent it out into the main current where it abruptly turned and floated out of sight.

  Chapter 39

  The shotgun blast had forced Cuke and the sheriff to take cover behind the Mercury.

  “Get it now,” the Russian said.

  James leaned against the Skylark, gasping for air. The Russian had kicked him in the stomach and he’d felt the stale candy bars rise up his throat. He imagined the bruise that was already beginning to form on his stomach, a blue waffle grid from the sole of the Russian’s running shoe. He wondered if he’d live to see it.

  “Drop your weapon,” the sheriff demanded.

  The Russian ignored him. He was not to be slowed. He motioned James with a sweep of the sawed-off and bared his big yellow teeth.

  James wiped his mouth and staggered toward the back of the Skylark. He popped the trunk open and stared down at the suitcase, waited for the Russian to tell him what to do next. The Russian was no longer beside him, but had slipped back to the van and was standing next to the open door. His eyes were set back deep in their sockets, it was impossible to tell what they were watching.

  “Bring it to me.”

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” the sheriff said. “I am the law around here.”

  The Russian turned his head and spat. “Do yourself a favor and stay out. This business has nothing to do with you anymore. It’s only between me and the boy.”

  James stayed frozen next to the car. There were way too many guns waving around. He could see that things weren’t going to end well. And he happened to be in the middle of it.

  The Russian must have read his mind. He smiled and beckoned James with his hand as if summoning a child. James obeyed. What else could he do? His gut told him what the Russian had planned. He couldn’t possibly get the.38 out in time. And that left the only alternative. To walk straight through the flames. As soon as he handed him the suitcase there would be a white-hot flash, and that would be the last thing he’d ever know. A change in ownership.

  Sweat poured down his forehead and stung his eyes. The suitcase felt heavier than he’d remembered, maybe because he saw his future in it more than ever. Now his future was going to be taken from him either way, with or without the money. There was a stabbing pain in his shoulder as he lifted it out of the trunk. He took a deep breath and tottered toward the Russian.

  You got close James. You got close but you still can’t cut it. He’s got a right to be pissed about his face.

  He could hear the Russian breathing, like the minute hand of a melting clock. If he didn’t do anything now it would probably be the last thing he’d hear while blood exited his body. A lot of blood.

  And then hell broke loose all around him.

  Screams coming from the Mercury. Cuke and the sheriff rising from the other side, going balls out. Muzzleflash and the sound of lead splitting the night.

  The Russian began to sway back and forth in a lazy dance. He fired the sawed-off and the Mercury sank to the ground on shredded tires. Plumes of safety glass exploded from the windows and rained down on their heads. Choking cordite smoke filled the air.

  James crouched next to the suitcase, unable to move. He watched the Russian calmly pause to reload. He hadn’t gone down. The large man had been shot several times but he was still standing. Was he wearing a vest? Then it became more obvious what was happening. The big man’s motor control was going down the tubes. His fingers couldn’t hold onto the shells long enough to drop them into the sawed-off.

  Pounding on adrenaline, James reached under the hoodie and pulled the.38 from his waistband. The Russian looked up at him. He’d dropped the sawed-off and was starting to lose consciousness, reached out to catch the door as he fell. James turned and saw Cuke taking aim and he’d fired at him before even knowing what he was doing. Cuke collapsed onto the Mercury’s hood and slid off, leaving a slick dark trail. James felt his insides tumble out.

  Oh god no. Not Cuke.

  The sheriff returned fire. Bullets pinged off the Skylark, ruining the dreamy paint job. James felt a hot stitch rip across his left ear as he dropped to his knees and shot three rounds through the Mercury’s shattered windows. He heard the sheriff give out a grunt before collapsing to the ground on the other side.

  James grabbed the suitcase and ran for the Skylark.

  Chapter 40

  Ann found the boat cover under the seat and wrapped herself in it. The canvas smelled of mildew but kept the wind off. She couldn’t believe how cold she felt. Somehow she’d been able to start the motor despite the tremors in her hands.

  The tide was going out and the swells were heavy. She worried if she had enough gas to make it back. James had emptied the red jug earlier, before they’d seen the men up on the bridge.

  For the moment the sky above was finely dusted with stars. But a dense mass of cloud working down from the north announced the arrival of a new storm. She thought she saw flickers of lightning over the horizon, wasn’t certain if she was just imagining it. She hadn’t slept or eaten for over a day. Her mouth felt bone dry and she’d started to have painful coughing fits.

  You’ve got water in the car. And food.

  It was hard to spot the drifting logs before crashing into them. She couldn’t see very well back next to the motor where she needed to steer. Each time she heard the boat scrape a log she held her breath, waiting for a sharp branch to gore through the aluminum bottom. Sometimes there was so much driftwood that she couldn’t even see the bay and she’d have to look at the dark contours of the shore to remember where she was.

  You’re as much to blame as James for all of this, she thought. Don’t pretend you didn’t want the money. You thought you had the right to rip off Duane for what he did to yo
ur life.

  “Don’t you understand? It’s over James. This has blown up on us. We’re not in control of what’s happening. If we get off this rock alive we’ll have to tell somebody.”

  “Of course we will. But that doesn’t mean we have to bring up the money to anyone.”

  “They’re going to find out. One way or another.”

  “Not if we keep our cool they won’t. Not if we tell the same story every time they ask us.”

  “Look what’s happened to us. This isn’t worth it. We’ll be running forever.”

  She’d started to feel as if she were drifting off, was surprised how quickly the whiskey carried her away. Time had begun to slow. She’d laid her head in his lap as if it were summertime. Waiting for clouds to pass so the chill would go away one more time. Better than being trapped on a rock by angry men who were trying to kill you over some money you stole from your jail bird piece of shit stepdad.

  “Tell me something else I don’t know,” she asked.

  “You’ll just get more upset. You should be taking it easy. What’s the point in bringing up the past anymore?”

  “Because we could die here. The waves could come in and sweep us off. That’s the point, James. I want to know.”

  “Okay. Remember that guy that you said came by the place looking for me? God knows what would have happened to both of us if he’d been able to get in.”

  “You said you didn’t know who he was.”

  “I lied.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I could. Because I knew you trusted me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I broke a rule Duane hadn’t warned me about. I was new. I got caught selling in this other guy’s territory and he wasn’t happy and he’d sent someone to deliver the message. But it wasn’t until later that I figured out why I’d almost had my head caved in. Duane hadn’t told me anything because he’d wanted to find out what would happen. The bastard was chumming the waters. He was using me to draw out the sharks. He wanted to know where they were.”