“And?”
“Everybody’s going to be fucking!”
“I can see why the women love you.”
“Don’t be a jerk. We graduate next year and we’ve never been to spring break. This could be our last chance.”
“I don’t know.” Melvin sat at his desk, proofing a term paper. “You’re talking about leaving right now, and we haven’t done any planning. Did you even make reservations?”
“That’s the whole point of spring break. You don’t plan-you just
“Why don’t
“Because I need your truck.”
“Figured.”
Cody snatched the term paper.
“Hey!”
“You’ll thank me later.”
NEW HAMPSHIRE
Snow seriously started coming down.
A Hertz Town Car headed south from campus. It avoided the interstate in favor of a looping, scenic night route through empty countryside. Last homes and streetlights miles behind. Nothing but high beams and black ice on a two-laner through white-blanketed woods.
“I don’t get it,” said Raul. “Why’d you let the kid back there live? We never leave a witness unless there’s a good reason.”
“There’s a good reason,” said Guillermo. “I need him alive for disinformation.” He punched numbers on a cell and placed it to his head. “Panama City Beach… Holiday Isles… Yes, I’d like you to connect me for a modest charge…” He let off the gas as the road took a series of hairpin twists down a small mountain. “Front desk? I’d like the room of Sam Jones, please… You don’t have a Sam Jones? Well, I think Sam’s his middle name. Probably registered under his first… No, I don’t know it. You have any Joneses at all?… Four? What first names are they under?… I understand you can’t give out that information, but this is an emergency… Okay, connect me to the room on the top of your list…”
“What are you doing?” asked Miguel.
“Shhhhh!” said Guillermo. “It’s ringing… Hello? Is Mr. Jones there?”
“Speaking.”
“Sam Jones?”
“No, you got the wrong Jones.”
“Are you sure?”
“Who are you?”
“Mr. Jones, this is room service. Someone at the pool just charged two hundred dollars of champagne on your account. As a courtesy to our guests, we always like to verify when it’s an amount that high.”
“I didn’t order any champagne! I’m not paying that!”
“You’re not Sam Jones?”
“No, Kyle. Listen, you have to-”
“Already taken care of, Mr. Jones. We’ll get hotel security right on it. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Guillermo hung up and dialed again, this time for the dorm they’d just left.
Raul looked confused. “I don’t understand-”
“Quiet!” Guillermo raised his deep voice an octave. “Hello? Is this Jason?… Jason Lavine?… This is Kyle Jones… I realize you don’t know me. I’m from Boston College-just hooked up with your friends at a rest stop… Guess they saw ‘Florida or Bust’ on our windows. Anyway, I was asked to give you a call. They’re switching hotels and wanted you to know in case you need to reach them. Something about feeding fish… Because we got a killer block of rooms super-cheap at a better place, but some of our guys dropped out, so your friends are taking up the slack… Holiday Isles in Panama City… Right, it’s in my name, Kyle Jones… Uh, sure, it’s going to be wicked excellent.” He hung up.
High beams sliced through the New Hampshire night. Two glowing dots appeared in the distance. Headlights hit a small deer on the center line. It darted into trees. The Lincoln approached a bridge over a tiny creek. Guillermo carefully applied brakes on the slick surface.
“What’s that business about switching hotels?” asked Pedro.
“Buying time with our government friends.” Guillermo opened his phone again.
Raul lowered his electric window on the passenger side and braced himself against the abrupt arctic blast.
“Madre?” said Guillermo. “Good news… No, we don’t have him. But our friends don’t either…”
The Lincoln stopped in the middle of the bridge.
“… Because I know exactly where he’s headed… Thank you, Madre…”
As previously instructed, Raul began collecting automatic weapons from the other occupants and flinging them over the side of the bridge.
“… On our way to the airport right now… Looks like we’re going to spring break…”
A Mac-10 sailed into the darkness.
“… No, they won’t get there before us. At least not at the correct hotel… Because I made a couple phone calls…” Guillermo turned toward an odd sound from Raul’s open window. “… I’ll let you know as soon as we get there. Good night, Madre.” He hung up. “Raul, did you check-”
“Check what?” The final gun was flung.
Guillermo reached for the glove compartment. “Don’t tell me.”
Car doors opened. The gang shivered at the bridge’s railing. Guillermo swept a flashlight beam thirty feet down into the chasm below, where three Mac-10s sat motionless. The fourth slowly spun to a stop on the iced-over creek.
“Guillermo, how was I supposed to know?”
“Just get back in the car.”
PANAMA CITY BEACH
Four people stood on the side of the road waving signs for free pancakes. Three kids wore T-shirts with the Jesus fish. Serge flapped the fourth sign. They’d given him a shirt, too. He’d drawn feet on his fish with a Magic Marker but hadn’t changed the name inside to Darwin.
A line of sporty cars came to a standstill at a red light. People hung out windows, waving drinks. “Look at the loser freaks!”
“Hey, Jesus Crispies, eat me!”
The light turned green. The cars drove off.
Serge turned with raised eyebrows. “You get that a lot?”
“All the time.”
“What do you do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“It’s okay. We turn the other cheek.”
“Good for you,” said Serge.
They resumed poster waving.
Another red light. More insults.
And so on.
An hour later, a student dangled out the passenger window of a Mustang, vigorously shaking a beer. “Yo, Christian faggots!” He popped the top, spraying them with suds. “Ooops… please forgive me!” The car filled with
