The Passenger (8 page)

“Give Margaret the gun, Bill,” he said.
“I don’t see any problem coming from these people, Maggie, but
you might want to watch your friend here.
Ray, let’s us talk.”

They went off onto the shoulder a bit.
Janet nodded toward the gun.

“Would you really use it on me?”

She seemed to consider.

“I don’t know. I might. I think,
probably. I mean, old times only goes so far, you know?”

“Jesus, Marion. He can’t even get your
name
right!”

And then she shut up because she could
hear what they were saying, talking the way other men might discuss some ad
campaign or product or corporate merger, the way she’d heard
herself
talk in conference rooms and
chambers with judges and lawyers and witnesses, all matter-of-fact and bottom-line
and so much more terrible for that to hear
hell,
they’ll remember all of it, everything. . . how many guns we’ve got, what we
look like, what we’re wearing . . . sure they will... I don’t see that we’ve
got a choice, then . . . neither do I... we have to kill them .. . we’ve got to
kill ’em .. . okay then, so what about the kid?
because if Janet could
hear, then so could the people in the car, the windows were all wide open and
they could hear their deaths discussed like three guys splitting the check in a
restaurant and she could see them all huddled together, heard somebody openly
crying now, saw them through the rear window embracing tight and frantic and
the woman stroking her sister’s hair and thought,
so tender! my god! this can’t be happening!
and the man leaning
over and wrapping his arms around them as though to ingest and swallow them up
safe inside him and his back moving, sobbing or trying not to sob, she
couldn’t tell which and then she looked at Marion.

Marion standing there still and cold as a
snake. The gun pointed casually in her direction.

Marion, who could and would let this
happen.

She
might be the worst of them
,
she thought. At least the others have their twisted evil reasons.

Then the men were moving, Billy toward
Marion, taking the gun from her hand and following Emil who was headed straight
for the car and Ray stopping beside Janet saying,
you want to be very smart now
and then watching them walk to the
wagon and Janet watching too still unbelieving and wholly unable to speak as though
that power was shut down tight in her as Billy and Emil turned their guns to
the backseat of the car, flashes of muzzle fire and raw sharp clapping in her
ears and bodies jerking, twisting, falling inside the car, blood and glass
suddenly everywhere and the sharp tang of cordite assailing her and she turned
and tried to run,
needed
to run, run
anywhere, fighting Ray with all her strength and Ray simply
turning
her, his grip on her arms
shearing deep into her muscles, turning her and forcing her to see the final
volley, the sullen punch of bullets into limp flesh.

“Bless our loved ones,” Billy said.

And
when she heard the whimpering into the silence that followed, the little girl’s
voice, the first she'd even heard that voice take breath, her legs gave way
beneath her. Oh dear god no, she thought. Alive. Amid all that frightful death.

Ray held her to her feet while the firing
began again and Janet closed her eyes.

When she opened them and cleared them of
tears the first thing she saw was Marion, her hands clutching hard at her
breasts, the sheen of perspiration on her face and
the wild light skittering in her eyes—a
woman shattered in the wake of revelation and probably the orgasm of her life.
She saw the men staring through the window, watching for further movement. She
turned and saw Ray. And there was nothing there to see at all.

In the distance behind them headlights
crested a hill and began to roll toward them deep into the moon- drenched
valley.

Emil held up his brand-new set of keys.

“Let’s
move
!” he said.

* * *

They’d driven a mile or so before she
thought of it. Until then she’d felt empty inside as a propped-up wooden
manikin sitting between Billy at the wheel and Ray riding shotgun, aware only
of the straight smooth tarmac hissing beneath their wheels, the sound of
flight, of movement. And maybe it was that which served to bring her back to
herself and back to what she’d actually seen these people do just moments
before. Because finally she thought of it.

She reached over past Ray to the glove compartment.
Popped it open and reached inside. A can of de-
icer
.
A pair of sunglasses. A cracked plastic windshield scraper. Half a roll of
Five-Flavor LifeSavers.

The papers were scattered at the bottom
atop the owner’s manual. There weren’t many. Insurance papers for the car. A
dog-eared state map. Somebody’s old shopping list on folded paper. Penciled
directions to somewhere or other tom off a yellow legal pad.

That was all.

She almost wanted to laugh but laughter
was still not even remotely possible.

“He was one of those,” she said.

“Huh?” said Ray. “One of what?”

“He was somebody who kept his license and
registration together. In his wallet. Did anybody get his wallet?”

She sat there and let that sink in.

Emil pounded the car seat behind her. It
didn’t even startle her. She’d figured he’d be the one to get it.

“God-fucking-
damn
it!”

“I didn’t think so. So it was all for
nothing,” she said.

“What?” Ray said. “What the hell are you
talking about?”

“Shit!” said Emil. “God
dam
mit! We gotta go back now.”

“
What
?”

“We gotta go back!”

“Are you fucking out of
your
mind?”

“You wanted to get lost again,” she said.
“Switch cars. Lose the APB. Problem is, as soon as they find him they’ll find
the registration for
this
car in his
wallet. So you didn’t get lost again, did you? It was all for nothing.”

“Jesus H. Christ.”

“You killed a five-year-old girl for
nothing.”

“Turn here!” said Emil.

They were coming up on a turnoff to the
right, a narrow strip of two-lane blacktop winding higher up the mountain.
Billy slowed and made the turn.

“Pull up some and kill the lights, Billy.
I want to see that car go by. Whoever it is can’t be very far behind. There
weren’t any other turns off the road between here and there. If they didn’t
stop they’ll pass us real soon. We’ve got to go back there but I want to see
them pass first. That’s it. Kill the goddamn lights.”

They waited and Billy fidgeted beside
her, tapping at the wheel with his thumbs to some music unheard by them while
Emil, Ray and Marion watched through the rear window and Janet sat there
staring straight into the dark, feeling strangely calmer now as though
something had changed between them, some reconfiguration of their tableau and
the odds against her. Though nothing had changed, really.

They waited and nobody came. The road
behind them dark and silent.

‘They stopped, didn’t they,” said Billy.
“They stopped back there. They’re viewing the whole image.” “Shut up, Billy.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“I said shut the fuck up, Billy.”

“He’s right,” said Marion. “They’d have
passed by now if they hadn’t stopped. Billy’s right.”

“I know he’s right for chrissake. I just
want a minute 10 figure this thing, okay?”

“What do you suggest,
Counselor
?” said Ray.

“
Counselor
?”

“She’s a lawyer.”

“What?”

“She’s a lawyer. She told me.”

“No shit. And you knew this how long?”

“Since before we went to her place. While
you and her lady friend here were out in the bushes.”

She could feel the rush of anger behind
her, then just is quickly sensed him gain control again.

“You ought to have told me, Ray.”

He sighed.

“Well, we got maybe two more hours till
dawn, three to the state line. So I figure the state line’s out for tonight.
And yeah, she’s right. We’ve got to assume they’ll make this car once they find
him. For all we know whoever the asshole is
is
already
calling it in. So we need another car or a place or preferably both. Maggie’s
is out because they know she’s with us and her place is probably out for the
same reason. So your question’s pretty good, Ray. What
do
you fucking suggest, Counselor? And don’t say give yourselves up
or I’ll figure you’re too damn stupid to be a lawyer.”

“You think I should
help
you?”

“I’d say it’s in your goddamn best
interests, yeah.” - And she knew he thought she was considering his threat. But
she wasn’t.

She was considering something else
entirely.

So that when she spoke the hesitancy in
her voice was phony but not the least
untrue
.
She was a trial lawyer and part of
lawyering
was
about performance and the correct and useful stance so she knew damn well it
wouldn’t show.

“Okay ... all right. I know a place. It
might
work anyhow.”

“So tell.”

“You ever hear of a place called
Hole-in-the-Wall?” she said, and then turned toward him.

He was smiling.

* * *

The night was awash in artificial light.
Police flashlights slow-arced through the scrub and field along either side of
the road. Flashbulbs burst sudden and stark against the human ruins in the
wagon. Six sets of headlights set to high poured off the cruisers and the Volvo
of the guy who’d called it in. Alan leaned against one of those cruisers and
tried not to puke.

He’d seen what was inside.

Hee
was shaking like it was zero degrees
out, clammy with sweat at the same time. All he kept thinking was
at least she wasn’t one of them.
At
least that.

Frommer stubbed out his cigarette on the
center line n| the tarmac and then carefully policed his butt into his jacket
pocket and walked over.

Alan shook his head. “I never. . . Jesus,
Frommer, that little girl . . .”

“I know,” Frommer said. “But I’ll tell
you, I think we can still hope for the best here, Mr. Laymon. I don’t think
we’ll find her out there. I think she’d have been in the car with these poor
people. These guys don’t seem to take too much trouble hiding what they do.”

He glanced toward the car and then back
to Alan.

“I told you
you
shouldn’t have looked,” he said. "Hell, I shouldn’t have either.”

* * *

“How far?” Ray asked her.

Ray was nervous, Emil could see
that—almost as nervous as goddamn Billy driving. It wasn’t like Ray. It wasn’t
the guy who could lift a wallet in plain sight or steal a car in broad daylight
on a busy street. Billy, on the other hand, was probably born nervous. He wondered
if maybe he should be doing the driving but then thought no, it was better back
here with his arm over whatsername’s shoulder and his hand playing with her
tit. Irresponsible but what the hell. They’d be all right.

“Just a few miles or so,” she said.

“They’re not gonna do this for free,” he
said.

“I know,” Emil said.

“So?”

He’d already thought that out. He didn’t
answer
though. There was no way he was going to
let
that
out of the bag just yet. But
he knew about Hole-in-the-Wall from the joint and didn’t think it was going to
be a problem. Ray obviously did. He dug into his pocket and pulled out some
wadded bills and change and counted it. Emil watched him and almost had to
laugh.

“I got a total of seventeen dollars and
seventy-eight , cents.”

He grabbed the lawyer lady’s purse out of
her lap and flipped open her wallet and started counting the cash inside. She
didn’t make any effort to stop him.

“She’s got fifty-nine. Makes sixty-six,
seventy-eight. What about you, Billy?”

“Exactly twenty-five dollars. Exactly
what I came out with—you and Emil being kind enough to entail me my drinks for
free.”

“That’s ninety-one, seventy-eight. Shit.
Not even a hundred bucks. Emil? Maria?”

“Marion.”

“Marion, sorry. What’ve you got?”

Emil pinched her nipple and she jumped
and smiled, then reached over for her purse.

“Forty-three dollars, fifty-two cents,
hon.”

“Okay, okay. Shit, forget the cents.
Forty-three dollars. Forty-three dollars and ... what?”