Six Bad Things_ A Novel - Charlie Huston [72]
Rolf starts to straighten up.
—Just stay the fuck where you are.
—Dude, this is so uncool, we have a deal.
—Screw you. I am so sick of that line. I’ve had deals with people like you, and they always get fucked up, and I always end up getting fucked.
—This is such a bad call, dude.
—Why? Tell me why? You can’t go to the cops. You can’t threaten my parents, because you can’t go anywhere near that town. The only thing you can do is kill me or hurt me, so why shouldn’t I just get away from you?
—Oh, dude! Threaten your parents? Like I would do that. That’s ill.
—Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is that supposed to reassure me? Oh, don’t worry, dude, I would never, like, hurt your folks. That shit is, like, totally out of bounds, duuuuuuude.
—Dude, you need to chill.
—Get out of the bus, Rolf.
—Dude.
—GETOUTOFTHEFUCKINGBUS!!!
Something changes outside. My eyes flick to the right. Sid’s light is off. I can’t see him. I can’t see where Sid is.
Rolf moves. He yanks the door handle and pushes backward, falling out of the bus.
My finger jerks on the trigger as Rolf, still in the line of fire, is dropping to the sand. Nothing happens. There is a thump as Rolf lands on the ground, out of view.
I look at the pistol. The safety is on.
The front passenger door opens right behind me. Sid! I fling myself to the floor between the front seats, twisting to land on my back, thumb groping for the safety. I land hard and my head whaps the driver’s seat and my vision rolls a couple times like a TV with the vertical hold out. Sid climbs into the passenger seat I’ve vacated, the stubby camping shovel in his right hand.
—Dude!
My thumb clicks the safety. I’m waving the pistol up and down like a conductor’s baton, trying to track Sid as he flips up my eyeballs over and over.
—Chill.
I pull the trigger and a bullet whangs through the roof of the bus, followed immediately by three or four more. Danny, the incredible asshole, has set the trigger weight at an insanely high sensitivity, and the pistol jumps in my hand, the recoil of each round triggering the next. The blips in my vision roll around once more, and stop as Sid pushes back, tumbling out the door like Rolf did. Time to go.
I crane my head around and reach for the steering wheel to pull myself up, and am just in time to see Rolf’s arm stretched through the open driver’s door, his hand snatching the keys from the ignition.
—No!
I grab at the keys, snag the cuff of his yellow shirt, and press the barrel of the gun against his wrist.
—I’ll blow your fucking hand off, Rolf. Drop the fucking keys.
The bus rocks. Sid again. I turn, bringing the gun around. Rolf pulls free, Sid brings the flat of his shovel down on my right foot and ducks back out of sight before I can get off another shot. This is not working. My little plan of kicking Rolf out of the bus and driving off is not working. I stay low and edge back until I hit the bench seat. The throbbing in my head and left thigh has been joined by one in my right foot.
I peek left and right through the open front doors. No sign of either of them.
—Rolf!
—Dude?
He’s still outside the driver’s side.
—Toss the keys in and then I want you both to walk over in front of the bus where I can see you.
—Dude, no fucking way.
—Rolf, I am going to come out there and just shoot you guys. Now throw in the keys and get where I can see you.
—Dude, you know we have a gun, right?
Uh?
—Like, Sid had to shoot that deputy with something, right, dude?
My stomach drops.
—Bullshit. Why didn’t he just shoot me?
—Dude, because I don’t want to.
Sid, still on the passenger side.
—Bullshit.
BANG!
I duck.
—That wasn’t at you, dude. Just to, like, prove it, you know.
Bad plan, Hank, very bad plan.
—So, dude, toss your piece out and we’ll all chill and get back with the program.
I get on my hands and knees and crawl around the bench seat, into the back of the bus. I find the Anaconda where I stashed it under a loose flap of carpet, and stick it in the pocket of my pullover.
—Dude?
I edge up onto the bed