The chirp of his phone prodded Jack out of sleep. “Jack,” he mumbled into the receiver after slapping around until he found the phone.
“Mr. Carter?”
“This is Jack Carter,” he said as he tried to blink himself awake.
“Mr. Carter. This is Loni Gessler at Albuquerque Storage. Mr. Carter, the Albuquerque police are here with a warrant to search your storage unit. They have agreed to wait for you to come open the unit. They said they will wait an hour before they cut the lock. Mr. Carter, can you come open the unit for them so they don’t damage the door and lock?”
He was groggy at the start of the call but he was wide awake now. “Yes. Tell the police that I am on my way. I’m still in bed so it’ll take me a few minutes to get dressed, but I should be there in forty-five minutes to an hour.”
“Thank you, Mr. Carter,” the woman said in relief.
“It’s okay. I’ll be there quick as I can.”
“What’s going on?” Tina mumbled.
“The jig is up!” he exclaimed after hanging up. “The cops are at one of the storage buildings. Get dressed, and hurry! We’re leaving!”
She paused for a moment in her confused, groggy state before what Jack said soaked in and she sprang from the bed. She wasn’t even out of the bedroom before Jack’s phone rang again.
“Jack Carter.”
“Mr. Carter. This is High Desert Self-Storage. Mr. Carter, the…”
“Yes, I know. The police are there. Tell them to wait. They know I have six units, and you are the second place to call to tell me they are there… and my phone is ringing on the other line right now. Just tell them to wait and I will be there as soon as I open the other units. There is nothing in there but some old cars and car parts, but I can’t be at all six units that I rent at the same time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Carter,” the man said.
“Tina! Hurry!” The phone rang again. “Jack Carter.”
“Mr. Carter… this is…”
“I know! The cops are there. Tell them to wait. I’m on my way and I will be by to open the unit as soon as I can get there,” Jack said before hanging up. Before he can even drop the phone on the bed, it rang again.
Within five minutes, all six storage places have called, and Jack had stalled them as much as he could. “We’ve got to move!” he said as he quickly dressed and gathered a few clothes.
“That’s all you’re taking?” she asked in surprise. Her clothes fit in two plastic grocery sacks… but that was all she had.
“No room for more,” he said as he carried his clothes into the kitchen where he pulled two bags from the supply under the sink and stuffed his clothes into them.
“We’re not taking the car?”
“I can’t leave my grandfather's bike.”
“But…”
“I’m not leaving it, Tina!” he snapped as he pulled his gun off the top of the refrigerator, along with a box of ammunition, and tossed both items into one of the bags.
“I understand! But think about this!” she pleaded.
“You can drive it if you want, but I’m taking the ‘39,” he said, his tone making it clear this discussion was closed.
Tina fumed. The Audi was clearly the better choice, but if she was in the car and he was on the bike, they could more easily get separated. “Fine, dammit! I’ll take the other bike.”
“Shit… the banks aren’t even open yet!” Jack snarled as he shrugged into his Desert Sons jacket.
“What?”
“We need cash. We can’t use a credit card or they can track us. We’re going to have to go to ground for a couple of hours before I can get some cash.”
“Can’t you use the ATM?” she asked as they hustled out into the warehouse and mounted up.
“I could. But about six-hundred dollars is all I can take out with the ATM card. We’re going to need a lot more than that. We can start with that, just in case they are on to us before the banks open.”
“Oh…” she said as she stored her clothes and put on her helmet. “Do you need to call Seth or Marshall and tell them what has happened?”
“No. We don’t have time to do it right now and I’m leaving my cell here. Once again, they will be able to track us if we use it.”
“How will…” she began.
“You’re going to have to help me with that,” he said as he kicked at the bike, trying to bring it to life.
***
They had stopped at the nearest branch of Jack’s bank and drew out the maximum amount possible from the ATM, five-hundred dollars. They had breakfast while waiting for the banks to open then returned to the branch and waited for them to unlock the doors.
She was amazed at how cool Jack was as he flirted with the tellers while he went about the business of drawing out five grand in cash. She would be—she was—a nervous wreck, but you would never know that Jack was on the run from the way he handled himself.
Two hours later, and money in hand, they were finally ready to hit the road. They only had to stop and top off the bikes.
“Where are we going?” Tina asked as they dismounted.
“I don’t know. Would your mom put you up for a few days?”
Tina snickered. “She would probably turn me in for the reward if she knew about it. What about your family?”
“Back east,” Jack said.
“Back east?”
“Yeah. I’m originally from Maine.”
“Maine?” she exclaimed. “You don’t sound like you’re from Maine.”
“Yeah,” Jack said as he turned on his accent. “Marshall and I moved here right out of high school. I hated the cold.”
“Okay… now you sound like you’re from Maine. So we can’t go to my Mom’s house, and your parents are too far away. So where are we going?”
“I don’t know. Let me think a moment,” he said as he turned and walked into the station to prepay. “How about Roswell?” he asked when he returned. “Lots of strangers in town, so two more won’t look out of place.”
She bobbed her head in silent agreement as the gas gurgled into the bikes. “Good idea. Believe it or not, I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve never been there.”
“I have, once, not long after I moved here. Strange place.”
“So we should fit right in,” she quipped.
He snorted as he gently tapped the gas nozzle against the Knucklehead to prevent it from dripping on the paint.
“Yeah. Especially you.” He saw her stick her tongue out at him from the corner of his eye, but didn’t do anything other than smile.
After hanging up the nozzle he returned to the store for his change while she sat astride her bike. When they fled Jack’s apartment that morning she was convinced they were going to get caught. But now, more than two hours later, she thought they were going to get away. To where, and for how long, she didn’t know. But so long as Jack was with her, she somehow knew everything was going to be okay.
***
They ride East on I-40 until they reach highway 285. As the hogs rumble south through the desert, Tina felt free. She loved the desert southwest and the open desolation calmed on her. The Albuquerque police had undoubtedly opened the storage facilities and found the cars by now, but out here, where there was nothing for miles and miles in every direction, she found it hard to worry about something that happened eighty, ninety, and then a hundred miles behind her.
Jack pulled into a small mom-and-pop filling station, the only one they had seen for dozens of miles. “You want something to drink? I’m parched,” he said as he started pumping. Out here you could still pump your gas, then pay for it.
“I’ll just have a drink of yours, if that is okay.”
He nodded and smiled. He had swapped enough spit with her by now to not worry about a little on a pop bottle. “That’s fine. Fill both bikes and I will just wait inside to pay.”
She carefully filled the bikes and took extra care to not to drip, especially on Jack’s bike, before she hung up the nozzle. Moments later he appeared with a slightly green bottle in his hand.
“Squirt?” she asked as she read the bottle.
“Ever had one?”
“I’ve never even heard of it.”
He chuckled as he opened the bottle before he handed it over. “You are in for a treat then.”
She took a big hit off the bottle then handed it back as her face wrinkled up. “Oh, by god, that’s tart!” she cried as she tried to scrape the sudden fuzzy feeling off her tongue and onto her teeth.
Jack snickered. “Best desert drink in the world.”
“Give me a beer,” she said, still smacking her lips.
“With a beer, ten minutes after you drink it, you’re thirsty again. Not with this,” he said before taking a big swig. “Ahhh… refreshing!”
She watched him and giggled. She took the bottle from his hand and had another drink. She could tell she still made a face, but it was a thirst quencher. “Okay… it’s growing on me,” she said as she handed it back.
They passed the bottle back and forth another couple of times, and by the time Jack tossed it into the trash, Tina had to admit she was feeling refreshed and no longer dehydrated. They mounted up and she thumbed her bike to life, but Jack had to kick his several extra times before it started and remained running.
‘What’s wrong with it?” she asked as she eased up beside him.
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Just seems to be running a little rough. Maybe it’s bad gas.” As they pulled out of the station the Knucklehead shuddered and coughed a couple of times, but then seemed to smooth out once they were back out on the road, so he forgot about it. This is what happens when you buy gas in a place that hardly sells any… but when you need gas, you need gas, he thought. He would put some good gas in the old girl when he got to Roswell, and then it would be fine.
***
They rolled into Roswell just before noon. When they filled their bikes again, the Knucklehead became cranky. Since the bike was only temperamental at low speeds and idle, Jack decided the problem was with the carburetor—an easy fix once they found a place to settle in for the night.
They stopped at a local place with a western flair that seemed clean and checked in as Mr. & Mrs. Thomas Harris—the name a combination of Jack’s middle name with Tina’s last—from Lubbock, Texas. Tina had a hard time not laughing as Jack talked up the manager and told her how they were on a riding tour through the southwest after selling their business. If she didn’t know it was total bullshit, she would have believed it herself.
Their room was in farthest corner of the U-shaped motel. After they moved their gear inside the stifling room and switched on the air conditioning, they went back outside while the room cooled.
They wandered around the motel. They first checked out the pool, then the battered old Conestoga wagon displayed at the entrance before they retreated back to the rapidly cooling room. They sat on the edge of the bed and flipped through the television channels until they found the Albuquerque station with local news. They hoped to find some information on the cars, but they either missed it or it hadn’t made the news yet.
“We’ll try again at six. I’m sure it will be on then. There is no way the police aren’t going to announce that,” Jack said as he flipped the television off.
“What are we going to do until then?”
“As soon as there is some shade, I’m going to adjust the carb on the bike and see if I can’t fix that low speed stumble.”
“You have tools for that?”
“I carry a simple kit with me on the ‘39. It needs TLC every now and then,” he said with a grin.
“It’s not the only one,” Tina said as she pulled Jack down onto the bed.