The pair could hear drawers open and close and a door closed hard. Hatcher looked to Buck then called down the hallway, “You okay, Nick?”
“Just gathering my things. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll be dressed and you can give your friend his shirt back.” He sounded like a different person. “Damned thing makes a lousy loincloth.”
Hatcher chuckled and leaned back on the wall. “We’ll take him back to our place, get him settled in and—”
His words were cut off by a single gunshot.
Hatcher jumped and ran down the hallway. He threw open the door and staggered to a stop.
Nick lay on his bed, fully dressed in his own clothes and clutching a photo of Doris, the .38 caliber revolver still gripped in his hand.
“Okay, now touch that wire to the other one you stripped.” Simon watched as Lana attempted to hotwire an old Toyota. She tapped the two wires together and the starter tried to engage.
“Again. Press them together.”
“Ow!” She jerked her hand back, sticking her finger in her mouth. “That hurts.”
Simon gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have warned you. Yeah, it will shock you, but it only lasts a moment.” He reached across and fumbled with the wires himself.
“Let’s just keep searching until we find one with keys,” she pleaded.
He stared into her eyes. “What if you need to know how to do this one day?”
“Then I’ll wing it.” She held her scorched fingertip up to him. “Or I’ll walk.”
Simon hung his head. “Okay. We keep searching.”
She slipped out from behind the wheel of the car and kicked the door shut. “If we were going to steal a car, why an old crap wagon like that?”
“Older cars are easier to start without a key.”
“How’s that?”
“No computer.” He nodded toward an old pickup. “Something like that you can probably start by jamming a screwdriver into the ignition and twisting.”
She stopped walking and gave him a hateful stare. “And you had me electrocute myself trying to hotwire a turd like that?”
He held his good hand up in surrender. “It was supposed to be a learning experience.”
“I’ll give you a learning experience.” She shook her fist at him and he ducked like a boxer.
“Easy now. I have a thick skull. I wouldn’t want you to break something.”
“Like your jaw?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Find me a screwdriver.”
He laughed as he opened the passenger door of the old truck. “Son of a bitch.” He pointed to the dash. “Keys are in it.”
“Yeah, that settles it. I’m beating you to death in your sleep.” She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. Nothing happened when she turned the key. “Great. Dead battery.”
Simon groaned and glanced at the road. “It goes downhill that way. We could push-start it.”
Lana gave him a dumbfounded look. “Push it?”
“To start it. You know, get it rolling, pop the clutch, let the momentum turn the engine over until it starts.”
She shook her head at him. “Clutch?”
Simon laughed and shut the door. “You can’t drive a standard?”
“Is that the kind with a clutch?” She shut the door and looked down the street for another possible ride. “I can barely walk and chew bubblegum at the same time.”
Simon could feel his forehead pop into a cold sweat and he leaned against the bed of the truck. “I should have eaten something before I took those pain pills.”
Lana pointed across the street. “Convenience store. Come with me. We’ll get something in you.”
Simon followed her and felt his legs grow weaker as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. She pushed the door open and rummaged through the mess, coming up with a bag of chips and something in cellophane that might have been a bran muffin at some point in its existence.
Simon pressed the chip bag against the counter until it popped open then shoved some of the salty crumbs into his mouth. He chewed absently, his eyes searching the gloom for something wet to wash it down with.
Lana appeared a moment later with a warm soda in her hand. She popped the top and handed it to him as it foamed over the edge and across his hand. He quickly washed down the chips then gave her a wide eyed look.
“Was it bad?”
He spun and spewed across the floor, retching as the pain pills got their revenge.
He gripped the side of the counter as his stomach emptied itself. He forced himself to stand up straight and regretted it as his stomach heaved again.
Lana rubbed at his back as he threw up everything he’d ever eaten since grade school. “If you had long hair, I’d hold it out of your face for you.”
He spat the bile from his mouth and leaned against the counter. “I appreciate the thought.”
She reached up and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. “How come you didn’t go bald?”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe I wasn’t Quee long enough?” He reached for the soda can and rinsed his mouth out, spitting it out before taking a long drink.
“Better?”
“Now that I’ve barfed? Yeah. Actually I do feel better.”
“Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll need another dose of pain killers pretty soon.”
The pair rummaged through the scattered remains and was able to make a meal of corn chips, stale cookies and warm soda. “Everything a growing boy needs,” she said as she made a toast with a Fresca.
Simon stuck with the real stuff. RC Cola worked just fine for him. He even joked about needing a MoonPie.
The pair sat in the floor of the convenience store, leaning against the counter. Lana gave him a sidelong glance. “Where do we go from here?”
Simon chewed a cookie while he considered their options. “I was thinking if we could find a ride, I know a place, up on a hill…there’s food and water there.” He gave her a knowing look. “And plenty of booze, but you can dump it if you want.” He
