It was that Loco, she thought. Ali was fine when he wasn’t around, but when the two of them were together, Ali always had to be harder and badder and meaner, and what made it worse was that Loco simply did not know when to stop. Things could get out of hand with him really fast. She could tell he really wanted to kill those kids, and it was all her fault. If she hadn’t started messing around with that Chicano girl, none of this would’ve happened. Well, it was out of her hands. There was nothing else to do but ride with it.
She looked around to make sure that there was no one watching and cautiously pulled open one of the barn doors. Shafts of fading sunlight cut through the gloom within, softly illuminating the straw-strewn, packed earth floor. She grinned as she looked around. It was an old barn with lots of tools and stuff stored inside it; horseshoes and old bells and blacksmith’s tongs hung on the walls. A weather-worn western saddle and girth were slung over the wall of one of the two large wood-framed horse stalls with wide, swinging wooden gates. She ran her hand over the saddle. The leather was cracked and discolored.
Several wooden benches were set against the walls and a couple of old saw horses had dusty, faded woolen blankets draped over them. There was an ancient, rusty army canteen hanging from a peg, as well as an old, olive-drab, World War II canteen belt. She decided the belt looked kinda funky. She’d grab it on the way out.
It was the first time she had ever seen the inside of a barn and she felt a little like a kid turned loose in a toy store. She completely forgot about the guys outside planning to burn it down and lost herself in the fascination of rummaging through all the junk, the rusted tools, the various items of old clothing and camping equipment and worn-out riding tack that had been left hanging in there. She found an old brass cowbell, struck it to hear its tone, then decided to also grab that on the way out. Then the high heel of her boot caught on something and she fell sprawling, facedown, to land with her eyes scant inches away fron the upturned tines of an old pitchfork.
“Shit!” she said, realizing how close she’d come to landing right on top of the nasty-looking thing. She’d have to be more careful. You never knew what could happen to you in a dark old place like this, she thought.
She glanced up at the loft, wondering what was up there. Maybe she’d find something else that she could liberate. She took hold of the wooden ladder that extended vertically straight up to a trapdoor in the loft, and started to climb up.
Behind her, a large shadow fell across the barn floor as a massive figure came in quietly through the open door and softly pulled it shut behind him.
Ali finished the first gas can and quickly transferred the siphon hose to the mouth of the second can, losing only a few drops in the process. He shoved the hose down inside, then capped the first can and handed it to Loco.
“Here, take this into the barn and start pouring,” he said. “And find Fox!”
That was all he needed now, having his lady wandering off. She was probably screwin’ around down by the lake, he thought, wading around the shore or something, and here they were getting ready to torch the damn place. He wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. They’d have to hit these turkeys hard and then split fast. He didn’t want anyone to be able to identify them, assuming Loco left anyone alive to do it. He was in a real state. Maybe a nice big bonfire would mellow him out, but if not, there wasn’t going to be any talking him out of this one. And, bottom line, Ali didn’t really feel like it. The hell with ’em. These kids had called the shots when they ran over their scooters. The sons of bitches were going to get wasted, and he wasn’t going to cry about it.
Loco walked over to the barn, carrying the heavy gas can and looking all around, keeping an eye out for anyone who might give an alarm. He got over to the barn doors and set the gas can down. He was about to reach out and open up the door when a sudden shriek coming from overhead startled him, making him reach for the large folding knife in his belt sheath.
Fox came swinging out like a jungle queen on the hoist through the open square window doors of the hayloft, laughing and yelling like a kid.
“Whoooo-weee!” she cried, with childlike delight.
Loco stared up at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you doin’?” he said, glancing over his shoulder quickly to see if anyone had heard her. “Are you crazy? Get off that thing!”
She disappeared from view, swinging back through the hayloft door, and a moment later she came swinging out again like a little girl in a playground on a set of swings.
“This feels so goooooooooooood!” she yelled, giggling like a child.
Loco simply stared at her. He couldn’t believe it. What did the silly bitch think they were doing here, playing games for chrissake? He glanced back over his shoulder, looking in Ali’s direction. The van was out of sight, around a bend in the driveway, behind a large oak
