Part 25 (1/2)

The front pa.s.senger 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 pa.s.senger 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 eyeb.a.l.l.s 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 a.s.shole, 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing the keys from the ignition.

--No!

I grab at the keys, snag the cuff of his yellow s.h.i.+rt, and press the barrel of the gun against his wrist.

--I'll blow your f.u.c.king hand off, Rolf. Drop the f.u.c.king 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 f.u.c.king 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.

--Bulls.h.i.+t. Why didn't he just shoot me?

--Dude, because I don't want to.

Sid, still on the pa.s.senger side.

--Bulls.h.i.+t.

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 where I hid earlier, staying flat so I can't be seen through the windows. I grab the handle that opens the rear window, push the little b.u.t.ton at its center, and twist.

--Dude?

Is he a little closer? I shout.

--I need to think!

I push the window and it lifts up and out.

Sid calls.

--Brah, don't do this, man, don't f.u.c.k this up. You know, you so know how important this is to me. I'm all, I'm all . . . please, dude.

I let go of the window and springs draw it open. I lever myself up and over the window's lip, roll out, and drop to the ground. The landing jars my squishy brain and blackness strobes at the edge of my vision, then recedes. I crawl the first few feet, the sand dragging at my clumsy limbs, then get into a low crouch, stumbling away from the bus, trying to keep it between me and them.

--DUUUUUDE!.

I hear them behind me, climbing into the bus. I drop flat on the ground, worming around so I'm facing the VW. I hold the pistol out, line up the sights with the open rear window of the bus. Rolf's dreadlocked head appears in the window. I have a shot. I drop the sights and pull the trigger. The bullet dimples the body of the bus and Rolf disappears.

--Dude! No good, man.

--You guys f.u.c.k off right now. It's over.

--Dude. It is not over.

--Rolf, I got more than a few rounds left. You want to rush me? Wait me out till daylight when anyone can see us? It's over. Take the bus and get going.

--We had a f.u.c.king deal.

--Not anymore.

Silence. Then the front doors shut and the bus's engine starts. The running lights blip on, the bus moves forward a couple feet, stops, and the pa.s.senger door opens. Sid steps out.

I draw a bead on him.

--Get back in, Sid.