The Speed Queen (17 page)

We didn't bring much —a few bags each, some pillows for the car, a cooler for the ice cream. Gainey's playpen was the biggest thing. I packed the trunk. It hurt Lamont to stand up, so he stayed inside while me and Natalie hauled everything down to the parking lot. We each did a line or two to help us out, a little kick start. It was nearly three when we got going, the lights downtown flashing yellow. Me and Natalie were in the front with Gainey asleep between us. Lamont laid across the back with his loot up.

I'd wrapped it in ice and put an Ace bandage around it to keep down the bleeding. We'd stop at a hospital and get it looked at after we got out of the city. He still couldn't talk or eat anything. When I tried to give him some cough syrup for the codeine in it, it ran down his chin.

Yes, we were armed at this point, though I didn't know it. Lamont had the old Colt under the spare in the trunk. He told us when he got control of his lips back and made Natalie jump out at a roadside table and get it.

"What is this?" I said.

"It's a gun," he mumbled.

"I can see that. What's it for?"

"To shoot people with."

My first thought was to try my mom's place, because she'd have money, but Lamont said that was the first place they'd look. We shouldn't involve her. We headed across Edmond on Second, and when I saw the Route 66 signs, I thought: Depew. There was nothing up there.

What we wanted From the Closes was money and a place to stay while we figured out what our options were. The city was done for us, and probably the state. Our best bet was to rest, stock up the car and head west. We were all agreed on the direction at least.

It was nothing personal against the Closes, I'll say that again if I haven't already. They weren't singled out, they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If they'd given us the money like we asked, I bet they'd be alive today.

The Closes were home. They were asleep because it was about five in the morning when we rolled in. Their mailbox was a little barn.

I can't describe the exterior because it was dark. They didn't even keep a chore light on. All I remember is coasting in behind the chicken house so no one would see the car from the road. When I turned out the lights it was like being in the middle of the ocean. The only thing you could see was the end of Lamont's cigarette. When he hit it, the light glowed in his eves.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm all right. You said you know these people?"

"I know the house. It's the one I'm always telling you about.

'You weren't telling me," he said. "That must have been Nat."

"That was you," I said.

"Not me. I've got no idea where we are."

"We're in Depew," Natalie said. "It's where she grew up."

"See," Lamont said, "Nat remembers."

We didn't bust in. We figured it would be easier to break in quietly while they were still asleep, the way the DEA does. I tried to stop Lamont from walking but he didn't trust me and Natalie to do the job right. I told him we couldn't leave Gainey in the car all by himself.

"Bring him then," Lamont said. "Just make sure he doesn't wake up."

"I'm not taking him anywhere near that gun," I said.

"Then stay here. It's not going to take all three of us."

"Just you and Nat," I said. "That's the way you like it anyway."

"The way who likes it?" he said.

"Guys," Natalie said, like we were all friends.

"Shut up," I said.

"Who likes it?" Lamont said. He put out his cigarette and closed the ashtray, and I couldn't see him anymore. "If you want to come, then come. I'm not going to sit here and argue with you."

"Just go," I said. "You don't want me and Gainey around anyway."

"Yes he does," Natalie said.

"Did I say anything to you?" I said.

"Don't talk to her like that."

"Why not?" I said, and a hand grabbed my neck.

"Because it's rude," Lamont said. He pushed me, letting go. "Are you going to come or what? I don't have time for this."

"No."

"Fine," he said, and opened the door so the bubble light came on. Natalie helped him out and eased the door closed and the darkness blinded me again. Beside me, Gainey was sleeping. I looked up through the windshield, searching for stars. I wished on the first one I saw. Star light, star bright, I said, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.

I wish none of this ever happened.

I wasn't there but I can tell you what happened. The door was open, so they went in. I'd told them where the bedrooms were upstairs. Lamont couldn't go up fast enough, so he gave the gun to Natalie. She woke the Closes up. In court, the prosecutor said they slept in different rooms, so she must have done them one at a time. In her book, Lamont does this, and she's not speeding either, she's just there.

I saw this glow above the chicken house when the lights came on, so I knew they made it inside. I got out of the car and peeked around the corner; there was no one on the porch waving that the coast was clear, but they'd pulled the shades down. I figured it was all right, I hadn't heard any shots.

I say all this like it was normal because it almost was to me. You get in these situations sometimes. You know the whole thing is weird, but you know you can't change it, so you just start thinking that way.

Inside, Lamont and Natalie were standing in the living room. Lamont had the gun pointed at Mr. Close, who was Hat on the rope rug on his stomach, his hands stretched over his head. He was fat and had sky-blue pajamas on, and the bottoms of his feet were dirty. Right beside him, Mrs. Close was wearing a pink flannel nightgown with roses all over it; in the back she was almost bald, just a little white fluff of hair. When Lamont saw me with Gainey in the car seat, he tipped his head toward the stairs.

I took Gainey up to my old room and put him on the bed, fencing him in with pillows in case he rolled over. When I came back down, Natalie was tying the Closes to a pair of kitchen chairs with clothesline. Lamont had his toot up on the table and his shoe off. He was cooking up, the flame wrapping around the spoon, and instantly my body wanted it. And I thought, it's going to be a long day.

The only things I recognized from my childhood were the woodwork in the living room, the banister and the light at the top of the staircase. There wasn't much left. They'd painted and changed the kitchen cabinets and bought all new appliances. The3' carpeted the stairs, which I guess old people do. There was a one-piece vinyl shower stall with sliding doors instead of the pink-and-black tile. The piano was gone, and the glider. I kept thinking, it's only been sixteen years.

The biggest change was how small everything seemed, even the yard. It felt a little like a dollhouse, like it wasn't completely real. But then, everything did then.

Lamont was going to take Mr. Close into Chandler to use his bank card. The machine had a camera, so they had to take the Closes' car, an ugly old LeSabre. Lamont would drive it to the parking lot of the bank, then they'd switch places. The Closes' checkbook said they had over a thousand dollars in their account; Mr. Close said he could take out three hundred dollars a day. Lamont's idea was to go right before midnight, then wait five minutes and do it again.

The only problem with that was we had to keep an eye on the Closes all day. We moved them into the dining room so we didn't have to look at them all the time, but still I felt we should feed them. In Natalie's book, she makes them tuna melts; it was actually me, and they were pigs-in-a-blanket and crinkle-cut fries. I know it's a little thing, but you should know the truth.

We went through all the closets and dressers. Mr. Close had a bunch of guns. Lamont gave me and Natalie each a pistol and took an old shotgun for himself. In the attic he had some muscle magazines hidden in a trunk, or maybe they were hers. Natalie waved pages in front of them. "Oh Bruno," she said.

There were two calls during the day. We just let them ring. Neither of them called back, which surprised me, and I said so.

"It's probably the same person trying again," Natalie said.

"Duh," I said.

Most of the time I was busy with Gainey. He was good most of the day, gnawing on saltines. I got him down for his nap right on time. I didn't want to mess up his schedule.

Finally it got dark. We were worried someone might see the Roadrunner. Natalie made chimichangas for the Closes, just like the book says, then we watched TV. It was Friday night, I don't remember what was on; you can look it up. I thought we should let the Closes watch too, but Lamont said they were fine in the dining room. I asked if I could at least turn the light on for them.

He took out his pistol and handed it to me. "Why don't you just give them this?"

His foot was better, he said. It had stopped bleeding so much. He didn't think he needed a doctor; Natalie and I did. We didn't have time, he said, and we made him promise he'd see one whenever we got where we were going.

The late news came on, and "M*A*S*H," and Lamont hit himself again. I rolled up my sleeve and laid my arm on the table. Behind me, Natalie waited for hers.

Lamont had to wake up Mr. Close.

"Okay, pardner," he said, "time to hit the dusty trail."

We watched the late movie while Lamont was gone. It was some vampire thing with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, Castle of the dime or something. Mrs. Close was awake, so we brought her chair over. I was surprised how light she was.

I couldn't concentrate on the movie. I kept thinking of the thirty-five miles to Chandler and how empty it would be at night. It used to be a cattle town; right outside the limits there was a rotted old loading chute, and that was fifteen years ago. There might be one pickup parked at an angle on Main Street, but nothing open. Most of the storefronts would be for lease. The county farm bureau, a cafe where you could get good biscuits and gravy and a bottomless cup of coffee. It was the kind of place I was afraid I'd end up —not even a stoplight anymore, the lines on the road fading away, one potbellied cop waiting for speeders with out-of-state plates. I pictured him watching the LeSabre turn into the bank's parking lot.

On TV, a Mountain Dew commercial came on, all these kids having fun at some swimming hole.

"You guys have any diet Pepsi?" I asked Mrs. Close. She nodded and I took off the gag so she could tell me where it was.

It was decaf because of Mr. Close's blood pressure, but it was still good.

"You sure you don't want one?" I asked, and not to be mean either.

And I think she knew I was trying to be nice, because she said, "No thank you."

But after a few sips it was disgusting and I put it down.

Mr. Close was alive when they came back but he had a big knot above one eye and his teeth were bleeding. Lamont was bleeding too, he had this long brushburn on his forehead. One knee of his jeans was torn and he was breathing hard. He pushed Mr. Close down onto the rug and held the gun under his chin while Natalie tied his elbows behind his back and his ankles together. Mrs. Close was crying.

"Get her out of here," Lamont said, and Natalie started dragging her chair into the dining room. "And shut her up. Who said you could take that off?"

"What happened?" I asked, but he brushed past me into the kitchen and came back with a black garbage bag. The toe made him wobble.

"What is going on?" I said.

He fit the garbage bag over top of Mr. Close and started hitting him with the butt of the gun. I tried to stop him but he pushed me down. He picked up one of those paperweights with the snow in them and hit him with it; it broke and water splashed over the bag. Mr. Close was flat on the rug. One of his hands stuck out of the bag, twitching.

"What are you doing?" I was screaming. I had Lamont's arm but he was too angry. He grabbed a little clock off the mantel and bounced it off of Mr. Close's chest.

"Try and run me down now," Lamont screamed at the bag. He kicked him with his good foot and a stain spread down one leg of Mr. Close's pants. It sounded like he was throwing up in the bag. Lamont wouldn't stop kicking him, and finally Mr. Close stopped making noise and just laid there.

"What happened?" I said, but he pushed past me again. He put a trash bag over Mrs. Close and hit her with the gun so hard that her chair almost tipped over. The gun flew out of his hand and bounced oft a hutch. He swore and sucked his knuckles and Natalie picked it up for him.

"What the heck happened?" I shouted. It was infectious; we were all a little crazy now.

Here's what he told me, I don't know if it's the truth. They made it into Chandler okay. They got to the bank and started to do the switch. Somehow Mr. Close got behind the wheel while Lamont was still trying to get around the front of the car, and Mr. Close tried to run him over in the parking lot. He knocked Lamont down but ran into the drive-in window and Lamont hobbled over and put the gun to his head. Lamont didn't know if there were any cameras there. They went through the drive-thru like they planned, except it was after midnight now, so they'd only be able to get three hundred dollars. So Lamont is already mad, and they pull up and put the card in, and the machine's out of money.

So there's your answer to the second part —no, he didn't get any.

We didn't sleep because we were up. We packed the Roadrunner so we could get going early. I made sandwiches for the cooler, and took two of those blue ice things from the freezer. The ice cream was soup so I pitched it. The speed seemed minor after watching Lamont in the living room. I'd seen him that angry before, but only toward me. It was weird; I almost felt left out.

We didn't do anything with the Closes, we just left them where they were. I remember taking a break from packing, coming in to get a beer and sitting on the couch to see what the weather was going to be like tomorrow; when I went to sit down I had to step over Mr. Close like Jody-Jo when he was asleep or just wouldn't move. I sat there and flipped through the channels until I found the weather, then I got up and stepped over him and went back to packing.

Mrs. Close woke up right when we were about to leave. She was moaning like she had a stomachache or something.

"Shut her up," Lamont told Natalie.

"It's already on as tight as it can go," she said.

"I don't care how you do it," he said, "just do it."