It was still chilly, and she pulled her jacket around her as she walked along the cracked sidewalk. Traffic at this time of the morning was light, and she idly counted red cars that she spotted as she used to do on road trips with her father. One … two … three … and a silver-grey car with someone who looked like Sandra in it, headed out of town. You go, Sandra. Sell those yearbook ads. Get out of school free for half the day, when I have to commit a crime, practically, to escape. Maybe she should sign up for journalism next year. Might even give her an edge at the radio station; she had heard that the newsman made more money than the disk jockeys.
She found herself in front of the Quick-Shop. I could use some coffee to warm up, she thought, and she turned and walked in.
And bumped into Marvelous Marv as he exited.
“Hey, watchit, midget. You wanna spill my coffee?
She stopped and eyed him. “Who you callin’ midget, Mr. Marvin the ex-deejay?”
“Oh. Sorry. I remember you don’t like being reminded of your cutoff condition. Yeah, ex it is, and it was about time I got out of that hellhole and on to some real money.”
“I bet. You wouldn’t know real money if it jumped up and bit you on the …” She stopped. No sense in getting another inhabitant of Niotaka mad at her this morning.
He snorted. “I’m sure you’re getting rich there, right? Don’t answer that. I don’t like to embarrass people who work for cheapskates. And what are you doing running the streets, anyway? School let out way early today?”
She sighed. “No. I just got tired of all the BS there and walked out for some fresh air.”
Marv cocked an eyebrow. “Say, I got a little business proposition for you. You want to get a little fresh air in my new wheels there?” He pointed at a dusty light-blue car parked just outside, and she realized that it was an older Corvette.
“What – you get rid of Rusty the Mustang?”
“Something like that. You like?”
Carla pushed open the door to the store and walked outside, coffee forgotten. Marv followed.
“So – what’s up with the business proposition?”
“It’s like this. I have a bet that I can drive from here to Ft. Fremont in … um … exactly 60 minutes. You know, a rally, where you’re racing against … exact time, on a stopwatch.”
She really didn’t know how long it usually took for someone to travel between Niotaka and Ft. Fremont, and she shook her head. “A rally? I thought they did those on pre-set courses, where they have check-in points in different places.”
“Well, sort of. This one is different, straight from here to a point in Ft. Fremont, where we … meet someone. I told ya, I have a bet with this guy.”
“And where do I fit in with all this?”
“I need to concentrate on the … ah … finer points of rally driving while … er … you keep time with the stopwatch I’ll get from Jimmy over there in the Firebird. He’s the one I’m betting, and he’ll start it and hand it to you. He’ll trust you with his stopwatch. And I’ll give you ten bucks when we get there.”
Carla eyed the Corvette and the guy in the Firebird parked next to the Corvette. She’d never ridden in a Corvette before. But Bob’s warning about Marv echoed in her mind.
“I don’t know …”
“Make it twenty. The bet’s for a hundred, so that’s all I can afford. Jimmy, this is Carla. She works at the hellhole; I mean, radio station. You got the stopwatch? She can keep time.”
Jimmy stepped out of the Firebird, leaving the door open, took a final drag on a cigarette and dropped it onto the pavement, still burning. He looked her up and down. “Yeah, pleased to meet you. Keep time for Marv? Sure, why not?” He pulled a stopwatch out of his pocket and fiddled with it. “It’s set now. All you have to do when you get there is to push this button, and if you try to cheat and turn it off and on in the middle of the run, it’ll reset completely. Dig?” He handed her the watch.
She took the watch and eyed him. “What’s your stake in all this?”
“Just a friendly bet.” He looked over her head at Marv. “Marv … er … owes me one, or maybe two, and he’s just going to try to work it off today. Right, Marv?”
“Sure thing, Jimmy boy. With the help of our little friend here. Right, Carla?
Carla twisted her face. “And when do I get back? I don’t plan to stick around Ft. Fremont any longer than I have to.”
“Oh, we’ll pretty much turn around and come right back. We have to make one stop to see a guy, and then it’s back home. You won’t even be missed.”
“Twenty bucks now?” She held out her hand.
Marv rolled his eyes and felt in his pocket. “All right, all right. Er … Jimmy … you got me covered?”
“This time, Marv. Next time it’s on you.” Jimmy’s eyes seemed to harden as he pulled a roll of bills from his jacket pocket, slipped out a twenty, and handed it to Carla.
She stuffed it into her pocket. “Let’s get the show on the road, guys.”
Marv actually opened the passenger door for her; she dropped her book bag into the floor well and straddled it before feeling around for her seatbelt and strapping it on.
She watched through the windshield as Jimmy and Marv talked for a moment; she couldn’t hear either of them, but Jimmy seemed to be giving Marv directions. Then Marv walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door, slipped into the seat, took one last swig of his coffee, tossed cup and all out the window, and started the car. Carla could feel the rumble through her seat, which wasn’t padded much more than the old Mustang’s seat had been.
“Okay, Marv; as soon as I hand Carla the watch, take off.”
“Gotcha. You ready, Carla?”
Carla considered her future. “Sure, Marv. I’m ready for anything. Let’s get the show on the road.”
Jimmy clicked the watch and handed it to Carla, and with a smooth motion Marv jammed the gearshift into reverse, squealed backwards, and took off. Carla’s head snapped back and forth, almost hitting the dashboard.
“I thought you said this was a …”
“Hang on, midget. I lied. We’re due in Ft. Fremont in exactly 30 minutes!”
Carla opened her mouth. She was trapped in a small, noisy car, headed away from home and safety. She could have said back in the school hallway, “Excuse me, Mr. Teacher, I’m such a clumsy oaf this morning; I had way too much Wheaties for breakfast, and I’m sorry that I slammed you against that concrete wall. Please accept my sincerest apologies and let me kiss your finger.” He would have bowed graciously, and she would be in English class right now, reading about how some guy walled up another guy in a basement with dusty old bottles of wine, laughing myself silly. But no-o-o, she had opened her mouth and told him off and then had taken a hike, and here she was headed to certain death on the highway in a fiberglass-body death trap.
She looked down at the stopwatch. It was at 28:04, counting backwards. You booby; if you’d just looked at the thing, you would have seen what was up. Another thought crossed her mind, and she shuddered. What if it was really counting down her last minutes on earth?
Chapter Fifteen
Carla rolled up the window, tightened her seatbelt, and hunched down in her seat. Already the power poles along the highway streaked past like a picket fence. She tried to sneak a look at the speedometer, but she couldn’t quite see past the rim around it, plus the vibration blurred her vision.
“Marv, when this car stops, you’d better be somewhere else when I get my seatbelt undone, because I’m going to stuff this stopwatch down your throat to somewhere near your pancreas!”
Marv grinned. “I love it when you talk mean like that, little girl!” he yelled over the throbbing exhaust.
The highway was mostly clear for the first ten minutes or so; Marv went around one slow-moving car smoothly with barely a flick of the steering wheel. The highway was new, flat, and wide, and Carla’s heart settled down as she told herself that maybe she had a chance of surviving to see tomorro
w. The country between Niotaka and Ft. Fremont was pretty much flat, and the highway was mostly straight, she remembered, except for one long hill where the road swooped down to the left in about a half-mile curve.
Ahead, Carla spotted the square outline of the trailer of a Ryder truck … and the glint of the sun off the windshield of an oncoming car. Would Marv slow down and wait to pass?
Her answer came a few seconds later. This time the flick of the steering wheel was to the right, and the Corvette swept past the truck between the edge markers and a blue sign that snapped past barely inches from Carla’s window.
“Marv, you idiot!”
No answer from the driver’s side, and she glanced at him. His eyes were almost slits now, and he hunched slightly forward in his seat. She realized that he’d never put on his seatbelt. Did he have a death wish or what? Good thing she’d grabbed the twenty before she got into the car. Not that it would matter when her pocket would be yards away from her head after she was torn from limb to limb in the final crash.
The car swept through the long curve, swaying slightly in spite of its low center of gravity. The road narrowed slightly as they crossed into the next county, but there was almost no traffic at all, and Marv again flicked the wheel almost imperceptibly to pass two pickup trucks on the left.
“Ft. Fremont, twenty miles ahead. We’re going to break the record. And then this sweet little Corvette will be mine. Forgot to tell ya – the bet included the pink slip, too!”
Great, Carla thought. Pink for him, red for me and my guts all over the pavement. At least with no seatbelt on Marv probably would fly a little farther than she would. And that would serve him right.
Suddenly, Carla realized that the road a half-mile ahead was blocked by double round hay bales, and a semi was in the left lane. She hunched lower in her seat and grabbed the bottom of it. This was it.
Marv again dialed the wheel to the right, and Carla could hear loose gravel smashing against the underneath of the chassis. Almost in slow motion, the world outside rotated until the car faced forward again, swaying. The hay bales were no longer in sight, and she realized that they’d probably passed the hay wagon sideways. Marv gunned the car again, and it fishtailed, throwing crushed rock, until he pulled it back onto the pavement.
“Wet your panties on that one, didja?” And Marv threw back his head and laughed, a series of short barks that sounded like the dog down the street from her house when a squirrel got into his back yard.
Carla didn’t reply, but she realized that there was something nudging her fingertips under the seat. She reached further beneath the seat and pulled out a baggie. Before Marv snatched it out of her hand, she saw a handful of crystal-like rocks in the baggie.
“Jeez, Marv. NOW I see what the deal is. Pink slip, my ass. You just wanted someone in the car to take the rap for you when the cops pull you over!” She reached under the seat again and felt at least two more bags beneath her.
“Oh, this was just a test run, and you just happened to come along at the right time. Jimmy wanted to see how fast we could make it to Ft. Fremont in case we had to get out of town quick. No cop car in the state of Kansas can outrun this one, and I know how to get around roadblocks when I need to. And you’re just my little insurance policy!”
“You moron.” She cranked the window down and threw the stopwatch out. “Like they say, you can’t outrun the radio. They’ll be waiting for us up ahead somewhere.”
For the first time, Marv looked at her with what amounted to a look of annoyance. “That wasn’t cool.”
She cranked the window back up. “Neither is kidnapping a minor in this state. Let’s see … possession with intent to sell, kidnapping, speeding, reckless driving, endangering a child … and I’m sure the judge will be able to come up with more.”
“Hey, you got into the car willingly, plus they have to catch me first, midget, and that’s just not gonna happen.”
Carla caught sight of a cruiser, lights flashing, parked in a driveway on the right. “Marv, you idiot, it’s happening. And if you’re as smart as you think you are, you’d stop and let me out right now.”
“Nope. We’re in this together. You’re a paid partner in crime. Remember?”
“Why, Marv, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You lured me into the car with candy, and off we went like a bat out of hell. Don’t you remember?”
They passed another cruiser, also with lights flashing, this time on the left side of the road. Carla craned her neck and looked out the back window. Flashing red and blue lights followed them. And when she turned back around, she realized that the flashing lights in front of her were not reflections.
“Dumbass. This is it, Marv. Hit the brake. You’ve had it.”
“No way. Hold on!”
Marv let the speed of the car drop. Suddenly, he hit the brake and swerved left onto a gravel road, but again the car lost traction and rotated, this time around and around until Carla felt dizzy. Marv frantically jerked the wheel back and forth, and finally Carla could see through the windshield that the car was headed for a line of brush and trees ahead. Tall stalks of yellow grass and weeds smacked against the front of the car, and a crack pinged across the windshield as the Corvette bounced and finally jerked to a stop against several small trees. Finally, the car was still and silent. But something smelled, and Carla found that she was breathing again and sniffing smoke. Marv just sat staring through the windshield, his lips moving slowly and a slow drop of blood rolling out of a white spot on his forehead.
The smell was of burning grass, and Carla realized that the overheated muffler must have set the grass on fire. Time to evacuate. She grabbed her book bag and tried the door latch. It opened readily, and she left the door open and exited into a stand of dead sunflowers and other weed stalks that were taller than she was. Her legs were rubbery, but she took a deep breath and leaned back into the car. A chorus of distant sirens joined the cloud of smoke.
“See ya on the evening news, jerk.” Marv looked at her and then pulled at his door handle. The door opened part way, and Marv fell out of the car.
He’ll live, she thought to herself, and she pushed her door shut, turned, and pushed her way into a scrub of low brush and trees and then a nearly dry creek bed. She looked behind her and up through the scrub. The white smoke was mixed with black now, so the car must be on fire, too.
Carla hitched her bag around both shoulders and carefully picked her way down the creek bed. The creek probably ran into the river that wandered through Ft. Fremont, so eventually she’d come up on a bridge and would be able to crawl out to a road. Maybe the dry brush wouldn’t show that she’d passed through it; maybe Marvelous Marv would keep his mouth shut; maybe the twenty and her spare change would be enough to get her on a bus and back to Niotaka in time for her to make her shift after school at the radio station.
In the distance, ahead of her, a siren grew in intensity. If it was a fire truck, it was too late now. That Corvette and its fiberglass body probably looked like a big old toasted marshmallow. And that low-life Marv probably looked like a complete loser, especially if the cops had handcuffed him and dragged him out of the field.
Chapter Sixteen
The bridge ahead of Carla turned out to be for the highway, and after she climbed the rocky bank she spotted a roadside café right next to it. Maybe it was time now for that cup of coffee? She looked carefully both ways down the highway, mostly for cops, and then crossed the road. She took one look down the highway before she opened the door; the smoke in the distance was completely black now but thinning. She shrugged and pushed the door open and went in. She dropped her bag on the floor under a stool next to the counter and sat on the one next to it.
“Coffee, please.” While she waited on the girl to pour it, she swiveled around to survey the almost-empty café and stopped dead. In a corner booth, facing her, was Sandra, and across from her was an older man who was leaning across the table and seemed to be talking to her intensely. Sandra loo
ked directly at Carla with a look that she never had seen on her face before, that of near terror.
The man grabbed Sandra’s wrist, and without thinking Carla picked up a steak knife from a dirty plate on the counter and almost flew across the café.
She knelt in the booth behind the man and with the knife gently pricked the skin just below his jaw.
“Let go,” she intoned in her best radio gangster voice.” “Now. And don’t turn around.”
Slowly, the man uncurled his fingers from around Sandra’s arm, which she withdrew and clutched around herself. The man didn’t move.
“Out.”
She kept the knife to his neck as he rose slowly, his right eye flicking to the side.
“Out,” she repeated. And the man complied, his speed increasing as he went through the door.
Carla looked at the knife thoughtfully and then at Sandra, whose face had turned a dull grey color. She was shaking, both arms hugging her body. Carla looked behind her; the waitress had just reappeared with a fresh pot of coffee and was pouring some into Carla’s cup. She looked across the café at Carla questioningly.
Carla looked back at Sandra’s table, palming the knife in front of her. Sandra’s coffee cup was half-empty.
“How about some more for my friend, here?”
“Sure. Be right there. I’ll bring your cup, too.” The waitress’s voice floated across the room.
Carla slipped around the seat and sat in front of Sandra, pushing the man’s cup and plate to the edge of the table and slipping the knife next to a crusty fork.
The waitress placed Carla’s steaming cup in front of her and topped off Sandra’s cup. She looked at Sandra questioningly and down at the cup and plate at the edge of the table.
“I guess your friend had to leave, huh?”
High School 2 - Diversity - The Clash Page 7
