by Mark Lukens
She washed her hands and face in the sink; she really wanted a hot shower, but this was better than nothing. She brushed her hair back with her hands and tried a smile at the mirror. Her smile seemed fake. She helped David wash up, and then they took turns going to the bathroom in the stall.
After they left the bathroom, Stella headed towards the coffee machine. She told David to go and pick out anything he wanted to eat and drink – whatever he wanted. He walked down one of the aisles of food as Stella fixed herself a cup of coffee. Just looking at the caramel colored liquid made her realize just how thirsty she was. And she realized that she was hungry. Ravenous. She spotted a warmer near the cashier’s counter that held typical gas station food: pizza, chicken wings, potato wedges, fried chicken. But all they had at this time of the morning were breakfast sandwiches. Normally this kind of food would’ve turned her stomach, but she grabbed a few sandwiches.
Stella set the sandwiches and coffee on the counter, and then she searched the store for other supplies: bottled water, a roll of toilet paper, two toothbrushes and a travel size tube of toothpaste, a stick of deodorant, a flashlight, two bags of chips, some chewing gum. She brought the items to the counter.
“You taking a trip?” the cashier asked as she rang up the items with a methodical slowness.
“Yeah,” Stella answered. “Heading up north.”
The cashier met Stella’s blue eyes with her own dark eyes. “I wouldn’t be going anywhere right now if I was you.”
Stella froze for an instant. “Why not?”
“There’s a bad snowstorm coming.”
The bell over the door dinged and Stella turned and saw an old man enter the store. He was dressed in overalls with a brown jacket over everything. He looked like he could be a farmer. He rubbed his hands together and stomped snow off of his boots onto the rug in front of the glass doors of the store.
Stella looked back at the cashier and slid the money to her. “We’re going to make it as far as we can. I also need fifty dollars on the white Suburban out there at the pumps.”
The cashier nodded.
Stella looked around for David. A sudden panic rose inside of her when she couldn’t see him anywhere. She hurried down the aisles and saw him right next to the old man. David held the old man’s hand, and the old man stared straight ahead with ice-blue eyes, like he was seeing something that wasn’t there.
“David!” Stella yelled and rushed at the old man. She pulled the man’s hand out of David’s hand and stared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked the old farmer.
The old man shook his head like he was just waking up from a dream and didn’t realize where he was. “I … I don’t know.”
“You okay?” Stella asked David.
He nodded his head. She ushered David away from the old man.
The old man walked back towards the glass doors of the store.
The cashier watched him. “You don’t need anything, Jed?” she asked.
“No,” he said, his voice croaking a bit. “I need to get over to the bank.”
Stella grabbed her bag of groceries and she and David left the store. They walked towards her Suburban, but she kept an eye on the old man as he got in his pickup truck and started it. He drove across the snow-covered streets to a bank nestled among a few other buildings along the main street. Beyond the buildings Stella could see a field of snow that stretched out for miles, there was a line of dark trees beyond the fields of snow.
She put the fifty dollars’ worth of gas into her Suburban, and then got inside the truck.
Stella drove out of the gas station and parked in front of a store that looked closed. She left the engine running, left the heat blasting, and left the radio on. The radio DJ warned about the impending snowstorm.
“Yeah, we heard,” Stella said to the radio.
Stella devoured her breakfast sandwich. She gave one of them to David, but he only picked at it. He ate two donuts and drank a pint of milk instead. Stella finished his sandwich for him and drank down the rest of her coffee. She bagged up the trash and threw it away in a nearby dumpster. She got back in her truck and left the door open as she brushed her teeth with some of the bottled water. She made David brush his teeth.
She felt a little better. She was full, cleaner, and calmer.
She backed out onto the snowy road as more snow began to fall from the sky. She put the truck in drive and plowed forward down the road. The town looked kind of busy for this early in the morning, like the townspeople were doing last-minute things before the snowstorm hit: gassing up vehicles, picking up food and supplies, getting money from the bank.
Stella drove towards the edge of town, but there was one more stop she needed to make first. She needed to find a payphone and make an anonymous call to the police and tell them what happened at the dig site, as much as she could tell them, as much as they would believe. Maybe a few of them at the dig site would still be alive, but she doubted that. Now that David was gone, there wouldn’t be any reason for them to be kept alive. But she had to at least make the call.
When she got to her aunt’s house, she would turn herself over to the police. But she wasn’t going to worry about that right now. For now she needed to worry about getting David to a safe place.
She looked at David and smiled at him. “You okay?” she asked.
David stared at her and there was just the trace of a smile on his face. “Yes,” he whispered to her.
CHAPTER THREE
Cody’s Pass, Colorado
Not even ten minutes after Stella left the gas station, three snowmobiles raced across the field of snow towards the main street of Cody’s Pass. The snowmobiles held two men each on two of them and one man on the other one with two large metal cases strapped to the back.
Inside Cody’s Pass Farmers’ Trust Bank, two tellers waited on customers. Four other people waited patiently in line, snow dripping from their boots and pants. One of the customers was Jed, the old man from the gas station store.
The bank manager sat at his desk in the office right off the lobby. He shuffled through some paperwork, but there wasn’t much to do – he’d already announced that they were going to be closing early due to the snowstorm, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here, get home, and start his three-day weekend.
Moments later the quiet morning was shattered as the five men from the snowmobiles exploded through the front doors. They were dressed in dark coats, gloves, and ski masks; two of the men carried large metal briefcases and all of them carried guns. They moved like a military unit, fanning out in different directions. One of the masked men stayed back by the lobby doors, he locked the doors and stood guard in front of them.
Another masked man, the leader of the men, aimed his gun at the tellers as he approached them. “Nobody move!”
The tellers and customers let out short screams of shock, but they froze and watched the robbers with wide eyes.
“Open the money drawers and back away!” the leader barked at the tellers. “Don’t touch anything else!”
The tellers did as they were instructed. Both of the cash drawers popped open and the tellers raised their hands as they backed away from the counter.
Another masked man, a tall and lanky man, rushed over to the customers still in line, his semi-automatic pistol aimed at them. He herded the customers to the wall. “All of you down on the floor now!”
The Leader nodded at the two men with the metal briefcases.
One of the men hopped the teller counter with ease and began emptying the money from the teller drawers into his metal briefcase.
The other man with the case rushed to the bank manager’s desk, his gun trained on the man who already had his hands up, already surrendering.
“Was the alarm triggered?” the masked man yelled.
“No,” the bank manager answered, shaking his head almost violently. “I … I didn’t – ”
“Get up,” the masked man growled at the manager. “Open
the vault.”
“It’s already open.”
“Take me there.”
The masked man followed the manager behind the teller counter, around a corner to a short hall where a metal door was wide open. The manager gestured at the door with a trembling hand. “There it is.”
The masked man pushed at the manager. “Get in there.”
The manager’s legs felt like jelly, his heart pounded so hard he thought he was going to have a heart attack. His mouth had gone so dry he could hardly spit out any words. “Please don’t.”
“I’m not going to kill you. Nobody’s going to get hurt, I swear. As long as everyone cooperates.”
The masked man’s words calmed the manager down a little. He nodded and entered the vault. The masked man held his metal case open. “Fill the case up. Take from different stacks.”
Back in the bank lobby, the Leader glanced down at his wristwatch. “Ninety seconds! Let’s move!”
The Leader looked over at the tall lanky man who held his gun on the customers; all of the customers were on the floor except one old man who stood his ground. “What’s going on over there?” The Leader growled.
The tall masked man stepped towards the old man and jabbed his weapon at him. “You hard of hearing, old man?”
The old man showed no fear of the gun pointed at his face. His ice-blue eyes had a blank look in them, like he was lost in a daydream. Or a trance. He stared at the tall masked man, but he seemed to stare right through him.
“Get down on the fucking floor!”
The old man made no move to get on the floor; he made no move of any kind. But he did smile at the masked man, his eyes still so far away, seeing something nobody else there could see. “You’d better get right with the Lord, boy,” the old man said in a low voice.
“What the fuck are you babbling about?”
“You better get right with the Lord, because something real bad is coming for you.”
In the vault, the bank manager stuffed stacks of cash into the masked man’s metal case. “Please,” the bank manager whispered. “I have a wife. Kids.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” the masked man told the manager. “You’ll see your wife and kids again. I promise.”
The other masked man with the metal case entered the vault, there was money in his metal case from the cash drawers, but there was room for much more. The bank manager stuffed his case full of stacks of money. The masked man closed the full case and handed it to his partner. “Get back out to the lobby.”
The other masked man ran out of the vault with his metal case.
The masked man pointed his weapon at the bank manager who closed his eyes as tears slipped out. His lips whispered silent prayers.
“Open your eyes,” the masked man growled.
The bank manager did as he was told.
“Get out in the hall, get down on the floor and just stay there. Don’t follow me out, don’t make a sound. Got that?”
“Yes. Yes, thank you.” The bank manager hurried out of the vault and got down on the floor. He closed his eyes and he continued his whispered prayers to a God he hadn’t prayed to in a long time. But he felt okay. He believed the masked man’s words. Something in his voice told the manager that the man was telling the truth. He could hear the masked man walking away. “Thank you, God,” the bank manager whispered. But seconds later the manager would hear gunshots and his whispered prayers would be back on his lips.
Back in the lobby, the Leader watched the old man still standing his ground as the tall masked man pointed his gun at him. “What’s the problem over there?” the Leader growled.
“No problem,” the tall man spat out as he glanced at the Leader, and then he looked back at the old man. “I’m only going to tell you one more time – get down on the floor!”
“The devil himself is coming for you,” the old man whispered. “For all of you.”
The masked man jabbed his gun at the old man. “One last chance, old man.”
“I’ve seen what’s going to happen to you,” the old man whispered with a creepy smile still on his face. In a flash of movement, the old man grabbed the masked man’s arm.
Suddenly, the masked man could see what the old man could see. Images flashed through the masked man’s mind at lightning speed: a rustic cabin in the middle of a snowy field, puddles of blood in the snow, pieces of a dismembered body, a shadow moving down a wall.
The masked man pulled the trigger.
The back of the old man’s head exploded as the bullet tore through his head, knocking him back into the wall where he slid down, leaving behind a smear of blood, his eyes still wide open, still staring right at the masked man, a ghost of a smile still on his face.
The Leader rushed over to the masked man who stood frozen as he stared down at the old man’s dead body. The other customers on the floor screamed in horror and panic; they covered their heads in protection.
But the masked man only stood there, shocked by what he’d just done. He couldn’t even remember squeezing the trigger.
The Leader grabbed the man’s shoulder, turning him around to face him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The masked man’s eyes bulged with confusion behind the eyeholes of his ski mask, his mouth moved, trying to talk. “I … I don’t know…”
The other two masked men with the metal cases of money hurried out from behind the counters. “What the fuck happened?” one of them screamed.
The Leader turned and motioned towards the front doors where the last masked man was already unlocking them. “Let’s move!”
The masked men fled the bank and ran down the sidewalk towards an alley that led to the back of the building where their three snowmobiles waited, a field of snow beyond the bank, a line of trees in the distance. They strapped the briefcases down to the back of the Leader’s snowmobile, and then they hopped on the snowmobiles, two men each on two of the snowmobiles, and the Leader and briefcases on one snowmobile. They took off for the snowy field.
CHAPTER FOUR
The three snowmobiles raced across the snow-covered field that stretched out underneath a sky of gray clouds that promised more snow. Once they reached the cover of the unending evergreen trees, they parked and cut the engines. The world was suddenly silent around them. But not for long.
The Leader, Frank, jumped off of his snowmobile; he tore off his ski mask and marched through the snow towards the snowmobile that Jose and Needles sat on. Everything about Frank was hard and lean, his eyes were like glittering black stones set deep in a face that seemed like it was carved from granite. His dark eyes never left the two men as he raced through the snow at them.
Jose, small and twitchy, dismounted the snowmobile and stepped aside; he knew Frank was coming for Needles and he wanted to put some distance between himself and Needles right now.
Needles, a tall and wiry man, lifted up his ski mask. Prison tattoos peeked out from underneath his coat collar and wound their way up the sides of his neck. His long, unruly hair cascaded down to his shoulders. Usually Needles was an imposing figure; the kind of man you thought twice about messing with, an air of danger and violence about him. But right now he looked stunned; his eyes were wide and nervous, his mouth hung open slightly. He watched Frank march towards him.
“What the fuck, Needles?!” Frank yelled. “What the fuck happened back there?”
Needles shook his head no as he stared at Frank with lost eyes. “I don’t know, Frank. That old man, he wouldn’t get on the floor. He … he grabbed me. Tried to attack me.”
“So you kill him?”
Needles didn’t have an answer for Frank.
Frank was only a few feet away from Needles, insane fury dancing in his eyes.
Cole and Trevor dismounted their snowmobile and Cole pulled up his ski mask, revealing a handsome face and close-cropped dark hair. He rushed over and stepped in between Frank and Needles at the last second. “Come on, Frank. Let’s think about this for a minute.”
Frank turned to Cole – they locked eyes. Cole’s muscles tensed; he was ready for anything right now. He’d seen Frank angry before, but never this angry. Finally, Frank stepped away. He paced through the snow for a moment, breathing out a long slow breath.
Cole watched Frank, still a little unsure about him for a moment. “What now, boss?”
Frank looked at Cole, then at the others. “Change of plans.”
“Change of plans?” Jose yelled.
“Yes, a change of plans,” Frank growled at Jose. “Since that psycho motherfucker over there decided to kill someone, every cop in the state is going to be looking for us now.”
A silence blanketed them for a moment. Frank glanced at Trevor, a pale but athletic-looking man who looked more like a grad student than a bank robber. Trevor pulled out a pair of glasses from his coat pocket, completing the look. He took a folded paper out of his jacket, unfolded it, and studied it for a moment. It was a hand-drawn map. He looked up and pointed at the dark woods. “If we go through those woods for about half a mile, there will be a road.”
* * *
Stella’s rusty Chevy Suburban rumbled down the lonely snow-covered road, walls of evergreens lined both sides of the roads; it made her feel like she was driving through a gigantic maze, a white path that twisted through big green walls. She concentrated on the road, gripping the steering wheel as the windshield wipers struggled to push the falling snow out of the way.
The heater blasted warm air at Stella and David as the radio played classic rock and roll. The song ended. “That was Fleetwood Mac,” the DJ on the radio said. “Looks like there’s no end in sight for the big series of snowstorms moving through. Some areas can expect at least another foot of snow and possible whiteout conditions.”
“Yeah, we know,” Stella muttered at the radio.
