Carter
Carter bent down to try to help Buzzard, but once he got a good look at the wound, he knew it was hopeless. His blood was pumping out too quickly, and every time he tried to breathe, there was a sucking sound in his chest.
“I'm so fucking sorry, Buzzard,” Carter said, holding his hand. He could hear Billie crying next to him.
“Ain't nothin' t'be sorry 'bout, kid,” Buzzard whispered. “Least I got a chance t'see you a little in my last few years. Take that money you brought me, okay? Spend it on this girl've your'n. Seems like she's worth it.”
“She is,” Carter assured him.
“Wish I could've introduced you to your pop,” Buzzard croaked, his lips shiny with blood. “My fault. Wasn't strong enough to save him. But I got them cocksuckers in the end, though. I...”
The old man's last breath left his body and his head fell backward.
Carter stood up and held Billie for several minutes. But he knew the longer they stayed, the more danger they were in. If Stoudenmire had found them here, there was no reason to believe others wouldn't too.
They cranked the elevator down to grab the stacks of cash from the bathroom. Then they went back up, stepping over the bodies of Buzzard and Stoudenmire as they headed to the car they'd parked at the fence.
They rode for a few hours in silence until they came to the Pot O' Gold Truck Stop near Del Rio, a town next to the Mexican border. Carter killed the Mercedes' engine and they walked in. As they did, he saw a waitress give them a funny look. His hackles went up for a second before he remembered what he looked like without his long hair and biker gear.
She probably thinks we're a couple of yuppies who wandered into the wrong place for a burger, he thought.
Hazmat and Oiler were sitting in a booth at the back. They were the only customers. When Hazmat saw them, his eyes widened in anger. Oiler looked sad and tired, but not surprised.
“Hope you boys haven't been waiting too long,” Carter commented as he and Billie sat across from them.
“Why the fuck is she still with you?” Hazmat snarled. “Jesus, what the hell's wrong with you?”
“Nice to see you again too,” Billie said sourly.
“Don't you crack wise at me, girlie,” Hazmat hissed, “or I'll kill you both right here.”
“No you won't,” said Carter. “She's with me now. She's coming to Mexico with us. Believe me, she's useful to have around.”
“Useful to have around?” Hazmat repeated, sneering. “What, has she got a solid gold twat or something? You must be out of your mind if you think we're gonna let you bring her along. She's already fucked things up for us enough. Besides, if you want some kinda fuck-doll to play with, there's about a million of 'em down in Mexico. You don't need to import one.”
“This does seem like a weird idea, man,” Oiler pointed out. “Are you guys, like...in love now, or somethin'?”
Carter looked at Billie and smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I'm pretty sure we are.”
Oiler thought about this for a moment, then grinned. “Yeah. Okay. I guess love can make you do some strange stuff sometimes. If she's sure she wants to come along and she ain't gonna slow us down none, that's fine with me.”
“You're a bunch of fuckin' morons, all of you!” Hazmat exclaimed. “Suddenly we're in some kinda bullshit fairy tale where we can just whisk her away with us an' we'll all live happily ever after? Because unless you were plannin' on pimpin' her out when we get down there—”
“I've had just about enough of that crap from you,” Carter growled. “She's coming with me. If you can't get with that program, we can divide up our shares and go our separate ways.”
“Oh, we're goin' our separate ways,” Hazmat said dangerously. “But I'm not dividin' jack with you. Every bad fuckin' thing that's happened to us has been because of your bad leadership, so I'm keepin' what we got from the Cactus Hollow job, an' the other cash I've got too. You can call it a stupid tax.”
Carter opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “Fine. If that's what it'll take to put an end to this—”
Suddenly, they heard the warble of a police siren right outside, and blue lights flickered on the wall behind them.
“Carter Winslow, Jack Thornvale, and Lane Scudder!” a voice called out through a bullhorn. “Come out with your hands in the air or we're coming in. You have one minute to comply.”
“I knew that waitress was onto us,” Oiler moaned.
“Fuck,” Hazmat spat, staring daggers at Carter and Billie. “This is all your fault, you piece of shit. You led them here. You, it's always been you, slowing us down and fucking us up and dragging this dumb cunt into it, you motherfucker, I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you both—!”
Hazmat grabbed a steak knife from the table and jumped at them, but before Carter could react, a gunshot split the air and half of Hazmat's head was blown off. He was dead before he hit the floor, and a thin ribbon of smoke drifted from the barrel of Oiler's gun.
“That guy was a real dick, huh?” Oiler said, blinking the flecks of blood from his eyelashes.
There was a commotion outside as the cops prepared to breach the truck stop. Oiler looked behind at the door, reaching into his pocket and sliding his keys across the table to them. “Go out the back,” he said. “My bike's parked out there. I'll hold them off.”
“How?” Carter asked.
Oiler smiled. He handed over his own saddlebag and the one that had belonged to Hazmat as well.
“Just go,” he said. “And make sure my wife and kid get my share. Tell them I loved them. They won't believe it, maybe, but tell them anyway. Now go.”
Carter and Billie grabbed the bags and headed for the kitchen just as cops burst in the front door. They heard Oiler's voice scream, “I'm not going back to prison, pigs! Come on and bring it!”
Then there were gunshots, and the sound of Oiler's body hitting the floor.
Carter burst out the back door with Billie right behind him. They found the motorcycle and climbed on, gunning the engine. The machine roared as they burned rubber, zooming out of the parking lot and down the highway as fast as they could. A few moments later, they heard sirens again, and blue lights flashed in their rearview mirrors.
The chase was on.