“Didn’t you forget a couple of things at the house?” said Jake.
“Nope. We’ve got everything we need,” said Carnie.
They were sitting in the stolen van at Wal-Mart, waiting for their first victim.
“What about the knife? You were going use it to scare them and make them get in the van? And you forgot the gun. I was supposed to point it at them to keep them quiet. We better go back. We can do this some other night.”
“Look in the glove box,” said Carnie.
Jake twisted the latch and opened the glove box, and a light came on inside.
“Hey, ain’t this my screwdriver?”
He examined it. “What’s this red stuff on the handle? Blood? Don’t tell me you killed somebody when you stole this van?”
“Of course not. That’s probably red paint. Quit getting so freaked out about nothing.”
“And this ain’t your gun, is it? I can’t believe I got myself into this mess.”
Carnie grabbed his shirt collar and got in his face. “Do you want to go to prison?”
“No.”
“Then shut up and settle down. Otherwise we’re gonna get caught.”
She grabbed the two weapons and handed the gun to Jake.
He studied the gun a few seconds, and then said, “You’re not so smart.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You gave me the gun, and you just have a screwdriver.”
“So, what? You’re gonna shoot me? You think you just might shoot me? Well, go ahead. If you’re gonna do it, do it now, Jake!”
Jake thought seriously about shooting her, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. He wasn’t a killer. The one person he did kill was by accident—it wasn’t murder.
“Do it, Jake! Go ahead and kill me!”
She reached out and clamped her hands around Jake’s hand, forcing him to point the gun directly at her chest. Then she latched onto Jake’s trigger finger with both of her thumbs and began to squeeze.
“No! Stop!” He couldn’t point the gun away from her, and he couldn’t stop her from making him pull the trigger.
The gun clicked.
Carnie started laughing as she released Jake’s hand. “You fool—you think I would actually kill myself?”
“Don’t do that to me! And why did you unload it?”
“Look, Jake, what if you were holding the gun on the old women and you accidentally shot one of them? You’re already worried about going to prison for your hit and run. How do you feel about lethal injection?”
The look of fear on his face gave the answer.
“Okay, so I will escort each lady into the van. And you will point the gun at them to keep them quiet and make sure they don’t try to escape. Any questions?”
“No.”
Carnie looked toward the store to see who was coming out. “Look, Jake. See that old woman walking out by herself?”
“Yeah.”
“She looks like a fine candidate,” said Carnie. She got out of the van and put the screwdriver in her left hand upside down to conceal the blade behind her arm.
The woman was carrying two plastic bags in her left hand, and was holding her keys in her right hand. Carnie wondered where her purse was. Maybe she had her driver’s license and credit card in a pocket.
“Ma’am, please be careful out here,” said Carnie when she was fifteen feet away.
The woman seemed confused.
At a distance of five feet, Carnie said, “Be careful. The guard told me somebody reported a purse snatching tonight.”
“What guard?”
“That guy who rides around the parking lot in the golf cart.”
“Oh. And it happened here? Tonight?”
Carnie was standing two feet from the woman.
“Well, I didn’t even bring my purse with me.”
Carnie laughed. “So, you outsmarted the guy.”
“I guess I did.” The woman smiled.
“I’m Carnie. What’s your name?”
“Harriet.”
Carnie put her hands behind her and transferred the screwdriver to her right hand. Then she put her left arm around Harriet.
“Harriet, I have a favor to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to come with me, and not make a sound, okay?”
“Oh. I’m sorry, but I need to get home.”
Carnie whipped out the large screwdriver.
Harriet gasped.
“Just act normal and do exactly as I say.”
Carnie walked her to the van, opened the sliding door, and told her to get in the back seat.
Harriet flinched when she saw the big man in the front seat pointing the gun at her.
Carnie closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. Before she opened the door, she checked for another target. She spotted a woman who appeared to be in her 80’s walking out. She had a purse on her left arm, but no bags. Carnie figured the woman couldn’t find what she wanted. But if she was looking for a large, sharp screwdriver, Carnie would be happy to fix her up. She started walking toward the woman.
When she was twenty feet away, the woman yelled, “Hurry up.”
Was she talking to me? wondered Carnie. Sure, I’ll hurry up, lady. But then Carnie saw the old man with the shopping basket.
“I’ll get there when I get there,” yelled the old man.
Carnie walked past the woman, thinking she might try to take her and her husband. When she passed the old man, he winked at her. The tight jogging suit showed off every inch of her curvaceous body. The old man turned his head as he walked to get a view of the back side. He crashed his shopping cart into a parked car.
“Jim, if you’d watch where you’re going,” said his wife, “instead of watching that woman’s butt—”
“—Hey, I’m just looking—I’m not buying.”
“Oh, I know that—you’re too cheap to spend any money on it.”
Did they honestly think she was for sale? Carnie wondered. Maybe she would go stab a couple of old farts just for the fun of it. She made a U-turn and walked past the couple, who were still bickering. They didn’t even see her this time.
*
“I won’t be long,” said Beverly as she walked out the door.
Cynthia and Greg were still sitting on the couch, finishing up their pizza.
“Where’s she going?” said Greg.
“Wal-Mart. She’s out of shampoo, and she won’t use the kind I have.”
“You’re not worried about her going out at night by herself?”
“Yeah, a little bit. But she did it all the time in Marshall. How can I tell her she can’t do it here?”
“Yeah, you’re right. She’ll be fine. And while she’s gone…”
Greg set his paper plate aside and slid over beside Cynthia.
By the time he got to her, she was ready. They began to kiss.
Neither of them felt the usual fear of taking it too far. Just knowing that Beverly would be back in a few minutes would keep their hormones in check.
*
The beads of sweat on Jake’s face were growing larger. The three women in the back of the van were having pretty much the same thoughts. They didn’t know whether Jake’s gun hand was shaky because he was scared or because he was just crazy. Either way, they figured their life was hanging by a thread. Any escape attempt would surely lead to a bullet or a screwdriver through the heart.
Carnie saw taillights in her rear view mirror. A car was pulling into the parking spot directly behind the van. Carnie stepped out and saw an older woman getting out of her car and locking it. She was alone. This would be an easy one, she thought.
Carnie approached the woman while she was still beside her car.
“Excuse me, Ma’am. I don’t suppose you have any jumper cables, do you?”
“Uh, no. I’m sorry. I don’t.”
Carnie produced the screwdriver and said, “Just be quiet and come with me and I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not coming with you. Get away from me. Help! Somebody, help me!” Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She looked down and saw the screwdriver stuck in her chest. Then she collapsed to the pavement, between her car and a pickup.
Carnie ripped the screwdriver out and wiped it across the woman’s dress a few times to clean off the blood.
*
Greg’s right hand had been at Cynthia’s waist for a couple of minutes. Now it was inching upward. Cynthia knew where it was headed, and was afraid of the stimulation it would surely bring. But her mother had been gone for a good while. She would be driving up at any second. They would hear the car and stop what they were doing. So they were safe.
Greg was beginning to lose control. His body wanted Cynthia’s, but he had promised himself he would wait until marriage. A marriage he had not yet even proposed.
But he began to realize that he was just a puppet. And testosterone was his puppet master. Although in his mind he ordered it to stop, his right hand continued to move up until it found her left breast. He felt the nipple with his thumb. It was very hard, and so was he.
Cynthia said, “Wait,” and pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
Cynthia was looking at the wall clock. “Look what time it is. Mom’s been gone for over thirty minutes. She should have been back by now.”
“Call her cell.”
Cynthia jumped up and went to her cell phone, which was lying on the kitchen counter. She walked back into the living room with the phone to her ear. “She’s not answering. It’s going to voice mail.”
“Let’s go find her,” said Greg.
They rushed out of the house to Greg’s car.