The Old Man

“Please stop this,” said Marcia.

“Are you sure, though?” said Derrick. “There are three of us and only one of you. Maybe your husband would like to watch you get really satisfied.”

“No.”

“Well, keep it in mind while we drive. There’s plenty of time to think. It’s a long way to San Berdoo.”

“That’s enough,” said Hank.

“If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave. You can get out and walk.”

“You’re right. Pull over and let us out.”

The two men in the front seats leaned closer and exchanged a few words, and then Derrick began to slow down. When he reached a wide shoulder, he stopped. Kyle got out to remove the skis from the roof. “Okay,” Derrick said. “Last stop. Don’t forget to tip the driver.”

Hank opened his door. When Marcia tried to do the same, Derrick hit the lock button and her door locked. Kyle gave Hank a push, intending to push him to the ground so they could drive off with Marcia. But Hank had been prepared, and he shrugged off the push. He brought his Colt Commander out of the backpack and swung it across Kyle’s head. It hit his forehead and blood instantly began to flow down his face into his eyes.

Marcia dived across the backseat and scrambled out Hank’s door.

Derrick was paralyzed for a moment, not sure what to do. He wanted to drive off, but Kyle was outside the vehicle, apparently hurt.

Hank aimed the gun through the open door at Derrick’s face. He said, “If you try to move that car you’re dead. Get out.”

Derrick got out, but kept the big vehicle between him and Hank. “Hey, dude,” Derrick said. “What’s that for? We didn’t mean anything. We weren’t really going to take her. It was just to scare you a little.”

“Come around to join your friend Kyle.”

“Now, just think about what you’re doing,” Derrick said.

“Or I’ll kill you where you stand,” Hank added.

When Derrick and Kyle were together by the side of the road, Hank said, “Now toss me your cell phones.”

Kyle tossed his, which landed at Hank’s feet. Derrick said, “I don’t have mine.”

“Then I’ll shoot Kyle first, then you.”

Kyle scrambled to his feet, reached into Derrick’s pocket, and threw a phone that landed at Hank’s feet beside his. Marcia picked them both up and put them in her jacket pocket.

Derrick sounded more angry than frightened. “Look, we didn’t do anything. We were just joking.”

Hank said, “You found two strangers you thought were helpless, and decided to do us harm. You’re going to die for it. Take a second to say your prayers or whatever you do.” He aimed the Colt Commander at Derrick’s head and moved his finger onto the trigger.

Derrick’s eyes widened. He went to his knees in the cold, salt slush, and ice. “Please!” he said. “Please don’t do this to me. I’ll do anything, give you anything if you’ll just let me live.”

Beside him, Kyle began to vomit. Some of the liquid splashed in front of Derrick. He put his head in his hands and began to sob.

Hank nodded to Marcia and she climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door. Hank said, “Get up. Start walking this way, into the woods.”

“Please,” said Derrick. “Don’t.”

“Go!” Hank shouted. The two men stood up and began to walk into the woods. As they went on, they seemed to go slightly faster, moving a bit more quickly than when they began. Once they had put a few trees between them and Hank, they seemed to hope they could get far enough so Hank couldn’t see them and fire the shot. In a moment Hank heard what sounded like running.

Hank got into the driver’s seat beside Marcia, eased the vehicle into the traffic, and drove down Route 38. “Take the batteries out of the phones. Wait five miles before you throw the pieces of the phones away.”





25


Hank hid their skis, poles, and boots beneath a layer of trash in a dumpster behind a supermarket in San Bernardino. In the flat country, even after 3:00 a.m. the temperature was forty-four degrees and the wind was calm. The radio in the-stolen SUV said it had been seventy degrees during daylight. They kept their ski jackets, caps, and gloves because they both still felt chilled from the long hours in the snow.

Hank found the train station on Third Street and then stopped at a nearby apartment complex. He and Marcia cleaned their prints from the SUV and left it in an empty parking space behind one of the big buildings, put on their backpacks, and walked back to the station. He bought them two tickets for the 4:06 a.m. Metrolink train to Union Station in Los Angeles.

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