Джеймс Фрей – Feed (страница 4)

“A bed,” I said, relishing the thought. “I haven’t gotten a single good night’s sleep in forever.”

“I’m with you guys,” Bruce said. “But I’m not the one holding the money. I’m just driving the car.”

“I donated my life savings to this,” I said. “And I’m getting a bed.”

Mary squeezed my hand. We had shared a tent, along with Bruce and Larry. I had gotten used to nuzzling up next to her, wrapping my arms around her as we slept.

Mary had become a part of me, more than I had ever thought possible. We spent every waking minute together. We knew how to press each other’s buttons. When we ran the hills at camp, I could tell when she was just tired or when she needed real help—and she did the same for me. When she was fussing with the camping gear, making dinner or stoking the fire or sweeping dirt out of the floor of the tent, I knew what must be troubling her. I knew her thoughts, and she knew mine.

And she helped me as I struggled to get over killing the sheriff. When I woke in the middle of the night, screaming and fighting against the claustrophobic confines of my sleeping bag, she could whisper me back to sleep.

When this Calling was over, I would have nothing left—no home to go back to, no money to live on, no friends I could turn to. Except Mary.

But could I truly turn to Mary? Now that she was going off with Bruce, I … Well, I didn’t know. What if something happened to her?

I had to get that out of my head. I shouldn’t be paranoid. This had been the plan for two months, almost. I should have come to terms with it.

Ahead of us I saw Molly climb back into the Jeep, the old license plate in her hand. She worked fast.

It took 20 more minutes for Douglas and Barbara to return from the grocery store, and they had a full cart. I wished that it could be a hot meal, but at least it was food. They stopped at each vehicle and handed off bread, cold cuts, mayo and mustard, and far more snacks than we’d ever need: potato chips, Hydrox cookies, Hershey bars, caramels, Ring Dings, Twinkies, and several six-packs of Fanta, 7Up, and TaB.

Mary took the bread and cold cuts and took sandwich orders from everyone in the car. It wasn’t fine dining, but it tasted fresh, and it was the first meat we’d eaten in months that hadn’t been cooked over a campfire.

We ate and ate. The sudden sugar rush of snack foods we hadn’t had since June made us all a little sick, but I stuffed myself nonetheless. I think I ate half the Ring Dings all by myself.

Kat held the newspaper on her lap while she ate. “They’re calling it the Great Daylight Fireball,” she said. “And dig this—it’ll fly over Nevada up to Canada.”

Mary finished chewing a bite of her salami sandwich and read over Kat’s shoulder. “It says it might not hit. It’s close enough to pass through the atmosphere and burn. We just need it to work as the trigger.”

John came up to the car and Bruce rolled down his window.

“We’re going to hit the bank,” John said.

“Whoa,” Bruce said.

“Are you serious?” Kat asked.

“It’s almost closing time,” John said, looking at his watch. “We want to hit it before they lock up. Look, I know you’re not happy with him, but Eugene is taking the lead. He’s robbed three banks before.”

Bruce laughed. “And he spent five years in jail for it.”

“Because his getaway car chickened out.”

“And you’re asking me to go with him?” Bruce asked. “To make sure he doesn’t accidentally shoot someone?”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“This isn’t something easy to walk away from,” Bruce said. “Do we have a getaway car?”

“We’ll take the Skylark. Molly will switch the plates. In the meantime, I want you and the other two vehicles to go to Reno now. Find us rooms at Harrah’s. Use your fake IDs.”

John looked back at me. “You’re coming with us, Mikey. You too, Kat. This is your team’s operation.”

“What?” I asked, flabbergasted. “Why?”

“Partly because you saved everyone’s asses at the gun store, but also because you have grown a hell of a distinctive beard. It’s gonna be you, me, Kat, Eugene. Grab a pistol and make sure it’s loaded.”

As John left the window, Mary squeezed my hand. I kissed her and grabbed my M1911.

“Don’t say it,” I said as she stared at me. “I’ll be careful.”

But even as I took the pistol and tucked it in the back of my pants, hidden under my shirt, I could feel myself trembling. Still, I climbed out of the Suburban and walked back to the Skylark, where the six of us robbers gathered. Kat walked with me. She was in a T-shirt and jeans.

“I didn’t expect to be doing this today,” Kat said to me.

I put my hands in my pockets to hide their trembling. “You’ll do great,” I said. “We’ve practiced working as a team. And we have both Walter and John to help us, and they know what they’re doing. We just need to make sure we keep Eugene under control.”

“He’s done this kind of thing before,” she assured me.

“I know what he’s done.”

“Listen,” Kat said. “I know you hate him for what happened at the gun store. But we have to work together. This whole trip to Turkey and Iraq is going to be for nothing if we can’t work together.”

“I know it,” I said.

She touched my arm. “It’s going to be fine.”

“We’re robbing a bank.”

“We need to. We can’t buy plane tickets if we don’t. We have to live in Turkey and Baghdad for three weeks, remember.”

I stopped, and looked at her. “I trust you,” I said. “I just don’t know what to do about him.”

“I trust you, too,” she said. “It’ll work out. We’ll just rely on each other. Just you and me. We’ll let Eugene take care of his jobs, but think about this. It’s just you and me. We can do this, together.”

I looked into her green eyes. I didn’t know what it was. But I believed her. She hugged me and told me it was all going to be okay, and then we walked to the car.

Molly sat in the driver’s seat, her long red hair hidden under a very convincing Afro wig.

I climbed in beside John. Eugene was next to him. Kat took the front seat.

“This is going to be easy,” Eugene said as the other three vehicles pulled away on their way to Reno. “Walter, you stand outside and don’t let anyone in or out. We want customers in there. Anyone we can threaten with a gun is going to be important. John, you go in first and ask to open a checking account. Mike, take two hundreds with you and ask the teller to give you change. Kat, you go with him. Act like you’re filling out a form—a deposit slip or something. I’ll be the last in. You’re all there backing me up if something goes wrong. Make sure there are no heroes. This isn’t going to be a quiet robbery—I’m going to be loud, get in their faces. Don’t show your guns unless you have to. Kat and Mike, don’t even get into the action unless you have to. Just act normal. Molly, how long will it take for you to steal new wheels?”

“Faster than it will take you to rob the bank.”

“Okay, good.” He looked at his watch. It was 20 minutes from closing time. “Let’s go.”

Molly drove three blocks down and turned into a parking lot that was shared by the bank, an insurance company, and a Burger King.

Everyone checked their guns. John and Kat had pistols, like me, but Eugene carried the Beretta Model 12 submachine gun that he’d been practicing with all summer. All the guys had beards, and we all smelled of wood smoke. I doubted we’d really blend into the crowd very well.

Eugene put a backpack on.

John hopped out of the car and sauntered to the door. He looked so relaxed. I didn’t know how he did it. Especially with Eugene calling the shots.

I got out of the car and walked into the bank. There was a line of just two people. Three tellers were at their stations, helping customers. I made a show of pulling money out of my pocket.

The pistol seemed so heavy and so bulky against my back, only hidden by my Los Angeles Rams T-shirt. I felt very exposed, like this was the dumbest thing I could be doing. I started breathing too fast, and I tried to use the meditation techniques John had taught us all at camp, forcing myself to breathe five times per minute.

The door squeaked as Kat came in behind me. She went to the table in the middle of the bank and started filling out a deposit slip.

I watched her. Her fingers were shaking as she tried to separate one slip from the others behind it.

Eugene kicked in the door; its glass cracked with a loud pop. “If anyone touches the silent alarm I’ll kill every single person in this bank,” he shouted, waving his gun back and forth. “If I hear a siren, you’re all dead. And don’t test me—I’ve already got two murder charges in Sacramento. I’m getting the chair whether I kill all of you or not, so don’t test me.”

The bank guard, an older man with a beer belly, backed away from Eugene. His voice shook as he spoke. “Don’t do it, son.”

“I’m only going to do it if I hear a siren, or if some idiot tries to be a hero. Now give me your gun.”

The two customers in front of me had fallen to the floor and were hiding behind a narrow counter. I dropped down next to them.

The guard unholstered his revolver and very slowly laid the gun on the floor. Eugene picked it up and shoved it in the back of his pants.

Eugene pointed his gun at the first teller, a young man in a suit and tie. “Did you touch the alarm?”