5 – Get out of here quick

 


 

 The tires popped on the gravel outside and the weak van engine putted to a stop-- the sound of death or dying in its staggering cough.

 "About time he got back," Sarah said, still seated in the chair beside the dresser. Hours had passed. She and Lance had sat largely in silence. Waiting. Listening.

 "His business probably took longer than expected," Lance said and rose from bed. His joints stiff. What time was it? Ten? Eleven? The motel supplied no clock, and he couldn't tell from the sky.

 "Or found some cowgirl on the way," Sarah mumbled as she stared down at the foot of the bed.

 "You sound jealous."

 "I feel bored."

 Dan's heavy boots thudded on the walkway, his hacking cough sounding worse than ever, but gave no hint to his truly horrid expression when it appeared at the door, long, brown Sherman cigarette smoldering at his lip.

 "Light up a joint," he said, and fell onto the bed.

 "What happened?" Lance asked, fumbling for the pre-rolled joint in his Marlboro box.

 "They tried to kill me."

 "They what?" Sarah said. She sat forward in the chair, squinting.

Dan shook his head and pinching the lighted joint as Lance passed it to him, sucking the smoke deep into his lungs.

 "The drug company's boys," Dan said after a long time holding the smoke in. "Bobo screwed them; they followed me up from the city."

 Lance looked towards the door, his face twisting into a mask of panic.

 "Oh, don't worry. They didn't follow me this far."

 "Are you sure?" Lance asked, doubtfully.

 "Damn straight. They're dead."

 "Dead? You killed them?"

 "Don't start in with your pacifist bullshit," Dan barked. "I'm not in the mood for it. They killed themselves. They slid off a cliff into someone's back yard. But there's bound to me more once the big bosses hear about it."

 "Which means what?" Sarah asked from across the room.

 "Which means we'd better get the hell out of here before they do."

 "Leave?" Lance said, staggering away from the bed, his gaze locked on the blank spot outside where the invisible mountain filled in the stars. "But I was figuring on settling down around here."

 "A grave is a pretty permanent way to settle down," Dan said, passing the joint to Lance.

Sarah shifted to the edge of the chair; her blue eyes dilated with interest. "And where should be go?" she asked.

 "The farther away from here the better," Dan said.

 "One of the canyons wouldn't do?" asked Lance.

 "Not unless you want to get trapped there."

 "But why?" Lance protested. "Me and Sarah aren't involved in this."

 "Your van is," Dan said. "And they saw it. They won't ask for details."

 "Where do you suggest we go?" Sarah asked.

 "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm headed back to L.A. to find Bobo and wring a million bucks out of him. But I have a feeling it's not just the money."

 "What else could they want?"

 "Silence," Dan said, sagging a little more, his head propped up with the pillows as he sucked again on the joint. "I think they're trying to erase everything about this operation."

 "L.A.?" Sarah mumbled, drawing a dark look from Lance.

 "No," Lance said. "We're not going back there."

 "No one said you had to," Dan said. "That's where I'm going."

 "Without the van?"

 Dan's gaze flickered towards Lance; the stoned eyes still dark with fear. "I could use a favor," he said. "It would be suicide for me to take a bus or plane. But if you could drive me someplace else, I could take off from there."

 "Where did you have in mind?"

 "I know a little house in Albuquerque where I could make connections. It's on the drug circuit. But news may not have gotten there yet. After that, you and Sarah can go where you want—even back here if you're that crazy."

 

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