Earthbound (8 page)

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Authors: Adam Lewinson

Tags: #romance, #scifi, #action adventure, #robots, #montana, #cowboys, #westerns, #scifi action, #dystopian fiction, #scifi action adventure

BOOK: Earthbound
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As the sun was starting to set we arrived on
the outskirts of Great Falls. I stopped my horse sharply. I had no
interest in going forward. Becca and Pace stopped their horses and
waited for me.

“Okay,” I announced, “I have a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” Pace asked.

“A plan to get us out of here.”

Pace looked at me, widening his eyes,
encouraging me to continue. Took me a moment. Wasn’t sure. Needed
to make a firm decision. And then I did.

“We’re gonna rob your father’s bank.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

3.

 

Not sure why I thought of the idea of being a
bank robber, I’ll tell you that right now. And if it was just bar
talk – if we were drunk and unable to keep our heads up off the
table – I’d be able to explain it. But no, I was sober. And there
wasn’t much point in talking me out of it.

“Ash,” Pace said, looking at me like I was a
God or something, “that is a great idea!”

“That’s an insane idea!” Becca said.

“No,” Pace replied. “It’s exactly right. I’m
in.”

“You’re in?” Becca was livid. She was
probably even more effing angry hearing Pace was in than when I
brought it up. “You might get yourselves killed! And if not, you’ll
be stealing from the people we grew up with.”

“So?” Pace responded.

“So some of them have been good to us over
the years.”

Pace scoffed. “One of those people killed my
father.”

“So you’re going to punish everyone?” Becca
asked.

“Hardly. The money in that bank doesn’t
belong to you or anyone else in this town. It belongs to the Great
Plains Holding Company.”

“Never heard of it.” I said.

“I have. That name’s been on my every
paycheck. It’s the company that owns the banks. They ensure the
safety of your deposits. So if money disappears from the bank,
guess who pays? You? No. The bank. The faceless Great Plains
Holding Company. And let me just tell you, because I know
firsthand, they’ve been cheating the residents of Great Falls for
decades. They deserve a little payback.”

“But the Great Plains Holding Company didn’t
kill your father,” Becca reasoned.

“How do we know they didn’t hire someone to
kill him? We have no idea! The alleged investigation is being done
by the one person who would gladly turn a blind eye to my father’s
death. Especially if someone tipped him with a few extra coins in
his own pocket.” Pace turned to Becca, suddenly apologetic. “Sorry,
Rebecca, you did date him. I mean no disrespect.”

“None taken,” she agreed. “He takes bribes
all the time.”

I was confused. Wasn’t the first time, or the
last. “So you got some wild theory about the bank so you’re
in?”

“I know every little detail of that bank.
I’ll get us in, I’ll get us out.”

Becca seemed to think she had it figured out.
“You want to get back at them for firing you, is that it?”

“They robbed me of my livelihood, yes,” Pace
agreed. “But it’s more than that. You know what I understand better
than either of you? Money. The power of money. Your relationship
with money’s been about the lack of it. You fear it because you
need it desperately. That changes when you’ve had it. Plenty of it.
Money doesn’t buy you a little food when you’re hungry or clothes
to cover your body. No, money buys you freedom. And I’ve been about
as free as a man can get in this settlement. And I’m not going to
be robbed of that too. I can’t live like you guys. Your life
sucks.”

Becca sat sharply upright like she had been
offended. I suppose we both had. She looked like she was gonna chew
out Pace pretty good, but instead she just turned her horse and
rode home.

“Think she’s going to turn us in?” Pace
asked.

“You don’t know her well,” I said. “But you
might want to think about that before you shoot your mouth
off.”

“Can’t help it. I know I’m a talker.”

 

 

The next day as the sun was setting and I’d
finished my twelve hour day on the ranch, I joined Pace on a bench
across from the bank. He’d been sitting there for hours I suppose,
making notes about the activity, and noting the time on his
watch.

“You know, nobody robs banks,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Maybe because there’s always been this sense
that we’re in this together, right? The Great Falls settlement –
one for all and all for one. But that’s not the way I see it.”

“Are they armed?”

“No one’s armed. It’s not like that. You’d
know if you actually had a bank account.” I saw no reason to have
one. I always spent what I had, or if I had an extra gold coin or
two I just hid it in my boot. “It’s very friendly in there.”

“Where do they keep the coins? In a safe or
something?”

“Yes, in a safe.”

“You know the combination, right?”

“I did until they fired me.”

“But if you don’t know the combination…”

“… I’ve got it worked out.”

The OPEN sign in the window of the bank
flipped over to read CLOSED. A little man in a gray suit walked out
of the front door and locked it behind him. He had a burly
moustache to make up for his lack of manliness.

“Is that guy’s name Frank?” I asked.

“Yup.”

“You used to work with him, right?”

“I was his boss. Now he runs the place.”

“He made out pretty well in all this. You
don’t think he had something to do with your father…”

“Frank? No. Too much of a wuss.”

Frank noticed Pace sitting confidently on the
bench. Pace smiled and tipped his hat. Frank twitched nervously as
he fumbled to put his key in his pocket and scurried away.

“So you wanna go rob this place now?” I
asked.

“Ash, I love your enthusiasm. Not yet.”

“Cause no one’s there now, right? Seems like
a good time.”

“This takes a little more planning than just
busting in the door. You’re not the planning type, are you?”

“I never said I was. I’m more of the bustin’
heads type.”

“Well bust your head on this. After we steal
the gold we need to know what we’re going to do afterward,
right?”

“Sure we’re gonna spend it.”

“Where? At the general store where Becca
works? We need to plan everything out. Where we’re going, how we’re
getting there. You know. Details.”

“You know what Pace? You do the thinking.
You’re good at it. I’ll do the punching.”

Pace smiled. “I think we’re going to make
quite a team.”

 

 

So we planned. And planned and planned and
planned. So much planning that I wanted to effing throw up. When I
make up my mind about something I just wanna do it. But as I
learned about Pace, not him. Although his planning has benefits. On
the next night I met up with Pace at the saloon. He had a little
surprise in store for me.

“Let’s go outside.”

I followed Pace around back where we huddled
away from the dim gas lamp that kept the street barely visible.

“I got us both a present,” he said. He opened
up his long coat and revealed two revolvers, one tucked on each hip
inside his belt loop. My eyes widened.

“How the eff did you get those?”

Pace pulled the revolver off of his left hip
and gave it to me, handle first. “This one’s yours.” She was a
beauty, I can say that. I can’t be certain but I think the handle
was made of pearls or some other kind of hard-to-get gem. Even
though it was dark out back behind the saloon, the handle still
shined. The gun slipped into my right hand. I measured the weight.
Even though I’d never held a revolver before, it felt about right.
I really had no idea how it was supposed to feel.

“Is it loaded?”

“No, but I’m getting some bullets. Just hold
onto it for now. Put it under your pillow or something.”

We went back inside and I admit I had a hard
time getting drunk. I was just too excited, feeling the revolver
press against my hip. And that night I did place it under my
pillow, funnily enough. But not before examining every inch of that
weapon. I made out the words SMITH & WESSON engraved on the
polished steel barrel. I have no idea who Smith or Wesson were, but
they made an impressive handgun, that’s for sure.

The next day was a Sunday. Finally I got to
sleep in past dawn. But I got woken up early anyway by a pounding
on my door. I didn’t mind it though when I saw it was Pace, and he
held in his hand a box of bullets.

We rode up north past the boundaries of the
settlement, well past where a gunshot would echo back. No one would
hear it except some wildlife. We did have to be on the lookout,
though. We were in bear country. And no ten-shooter was gonna make
a dent in a grizzly.

We picked an old oak tree for target
practice. First we loaded up each chamber, one bullet apiece. I
went first, since I had far more experience with guns – rifles, at
least. I pulled back the hammer and got a sense of how to aim using
the sight. I pulled back the trigger and the gun went off before I
was ready. I recoiled a little, and the bullet shot upward and
clipped off a branch. Not a big deal, but I felt pretty stupid.
Pace was laughing but I couldn’t much hear him, my ears were
ringing a little. That little revolver seemed to make a bigger
noise than the shotguns I’d fired. Not one to show that anything
rattles me, I just took aim again and pulled back the trigger. I
was in control this time and hit the tree right where I wanted to.
Next thing I knew, I’d fired off my remaining eight shots and my
ears were ringing but good. Pace had his hands clasped over his
ears. I checked out the damage to the tree, and I’d made nine nice
little holes all in a row. This was my kinda weapon.

Pace was next and this time I held my ears.
Didn’t wanna go deaf someday. He wasn’t nearly as confident with
his gun, and his aim was off too, but I was patient and gave him
some pointers. He genuinely seemed interested in improving. Which
was good cause he was gonna need it.

 

 

That night I couldn’t much sleep. Usually
with enough whiskey in me it’s not too hard to pass out. Maybe it
was the adrenaline from learning how to use the revolver, or the
sense of power it gave me to hold it in my hand. Or maybe it was
something else, something I couldn’t quite figure out that was
right on the periphery of my mind. Anyway, maybe at 5am or so I got
up and for reasons I can’t quite figure out I cracked open the door
to what used to be my parents’ bedroom. I never went in there much.
Not much need to. I had left things pretty much the way my mother
left them before she killed herself. Seemed fitting.

I passed by the old chair by the fireplace
and ran my finger alongside it. Dust. Becca wouldn’t have let dust
collect on it. We used to sit in that chair together and she’d
read. She’d read me all sorts of stories and books about
everything. That’s why I have a pretty decent vocabulary I suppose.
She’d tell me about words I didn’t understand without asking. I’m
not a good reader as you know. She’s great at it.

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