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Show Acker let himself ina backdoor, keeping to the shadows. A faint moon hung in the east, casting vague light. He wore dark clothes, moved quickly. He found her in the kitchen, pouring a third glass of wine. She didn’t seem ruffled in the least. Acker put the hotel room on a credit card, walked to his car and took the freeway through St. Louis. He turned on the radio, heard a news story about a serial killer in Min- neapolis, turned the thing off. Morning traffic was thicker than a blood clot. 2 On the other side of Kansas City he gassed up, bought a sandwich that tasted like “They were here,” she said, lifting her glass. “They had a warrant and went through the place like you said they would. Seemed kind of nervous.” chemicals. If America was reflected in its roadside cuisine, the culture was nearing the bottom of the barrel. The sun was in his eyes across the amber waves of Kansas, then burned itself out as he slid into eastern Colorado. The prairie was losing the heat of the day, so he let a window “How many?” he asked. - | Vhree.“One wearing a bad toupee?” “Uh huh,” she nodded. “Another was so fat he could hardly breathe.” Acker picked up the bottle of wine, thought better of it, put it down. Remaining sharp down, smelled the roots of the nation. Acker paused in Denver, spent an afternoon in the museum’s American Indian col- lection. It occurred to him that he might never see Colorado again. Might as well spread himself around. : The bank teller was cheerful and offered him a pack of mints along with his cash. The was paramount. “They find the papers?” he asked, looking for something to drink. “Yes; the lieutenant seemed excited about it,” she said. “I tried to act upset.” Acker smiled, said, “You did good.” He thought she looked magnificent, almost me- girl’s hair reminded him of the wheat fields lining the Interstate. He thanked her, tossed the mints in a trash can on the sidewalk. The check would take a couple of days to clear. He was leaving a paper trail. That night he met a guy from Newark at the hotel bar. The man was on his way to Vegas, sold high-tech security software. Acker bummed a deck of cards from the bartender, suggested a few hands of blackjack. He made sure the guy won a hundred dollars. Acker wrote a check and said not to cash it for a day or two. By that time the salesman would be dieval with her hair braided in circles atop her head. Thanks to her, the men had found. what they were looking for and left. “Now what?” she asked, looking tired. “We're looking at a huge adjustment: the house, in Vegas, dragging Acker’s trail westward. He cut across the state on byways, through the serrated knives of the Rockies. At the Continental Divide he stopped, hard of breath, and pissed into the snow. He wondered whether next year’s thaw would send his urine east or west. Hours later he was in a landscape cut by odd shaped mesas. On a whim he spent the night under the river of stars. He couldn’t recall ever seeing so many lights in the sky, the Milky Way a smear of luminescence. Just before dawn he was awakened by the cold, got the eee silverware; sveryihing that can't be carried is going to be left behind. he bastards will impound my assets, hoping to flush me out.” He stopped, looked her square in the eyes. “Can you do this?” up and pushed on. A few miles later he traded his wrist watch for the best breakfast he’d ever had. Aman in Flagstaff agreed to take two of the gold coins off his hands, no paperwork. It was strictly cash from now on. The coin dealer steered him to a shady auto dealer down the street. Acker talked the guy into trading the shiny Volvo for an old pickup truck with Arizona plates. No questions asked, hand-written bill of sale. The guy stuck the papers in his jacket and said, “I’d be real careful if ] was you.” He stopped at a roadside stand, picked up a straw hat and a couple of Indian blankets. Acker drank from a bottle of tomato juice, licked his lips. “Now it’s cat and mouse,” he told her. “They'll leave you alone for a while, monitor my habits. They expect to see patterns, so we'll give them some.” The girl nodded, having little choice in the matter. “What about you?” she said, putting the wine down. She’d had enough. The desert nights were cold and he was tired of hotel rooms. It was time to unwind, shed He ran a hand through his hair, looked around the room. It was a good kitchen, top- his old skin, acquire a tan. He camped off-road, the night crisp and ebony. The sky sparkled with such fierceness that Acker laughed at the immensity of everything. Anoise woke him in the night. It took him a minute to figure out where he was, then flight appliances. Very cozy and functional. Somebody was going to enjoy this place. “The mice will play when the cat’s away,” he smiled. “I'm going to lead our friends on a goose chase, buy some time. Maybe stretch the odds a bit.” He found some crackers, opened the fridge and pulled out a container of cheese. He was hungry for the first time all day. The girl watched him, the way he moved with an odd precision. He was almost 40, looked 10 years younger. “How’s your Spanish?” Acker asked. “You used to be pretty fluent.” He stopped at a roadside stand, picked up a straw ae and a couple of Indian blankets. She bobbed her head, said, “Si, hablo bueno.” The desert nights were cold They laughed. He brushed a hair out of her face. “We're looking at a huge adjustment: the house, the artwork, silverware; everything that can’t be carried is going to be left behind. The bastards will impound my assets, hoping to flush me out.” He stopped, looked her square in the eyes. “Can you do this?” She felt blood rushing into her cheeks. They had accumulated so many things; each treasure came with fluorescent memories. “What are my alternatives?” she said. Acker smiled. “None,” he said. “There's just a big gaping black hole called the future and its got our name on it. Or we take our chances with the assholes you had the pleasure and he was tired of hotel rooms. It was time to unwind, shed his old skin, acquire a tan. the noise reappeared, brought him into focus. He got up, kept a low profile and went behind the truck. It occurred to him that he should’ve bought a pistol when he‘d had the chance. Headlights split the dark, turning ordinary cacti into phantasmagoric creatures. Acker finally got up to speed, understood that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He heard gunfire, the sound of breaking glass. The action was a hundred yards or so from . where he crouched, too close for anything but prayer and luck. When the racket moved further down the canyon, he gathered his things, put them in the truck and backed down the dirt road without using the headlights. The old truck jarred his teeth, the shocks worn and useless. At the junction of the blacktop, he spun away from the direction of the midnight immigrants. As the headlights flashed on, a jack rabbit spooked and ran under the tires. “Hare for breakfast,” he said, his voice sounding strange. He hadn’t spoken since yesterday. With the sun’s reemergence he built a small pit fire and cooked the rabbit. The flesh of meeting this afternoon.” “My jewelry.” Her legs felt wobbly. “What you can carry,” he repeated. He put the cheese up, made mental notes. The girl left, came back in a nightgown, her braids down. She looked too good to be true, but there she was. “T have 25 gold buffalo dollars,” he said. “You take 20 with you; they'll spend easily in San Miguel.” She said “okay” and put on water for coffee. It was going to be a long night and she wanted to remember it; caffeine would help. “Take the cash out of your liquid account; leave enough to keep it active. By tomorrow night you should be able to get as far as San Antonio. Rest up, then head due west for Tucson. Drive all night if you have to,” he said. “What about the house?” She asked. “Won‘t they figure out nobody’s here?” Acker nodded. “Jared’s daughter is going to house-sit for a few days. I told him we'd be in Grand Cayman. The girl doesn’t know anything, can’t be implicated.” They went upstairs, pulled suitcases out of the spare bedroom closet. She wasn’t sure where to begin. “What you put in that suitcase is your life,” he said. “The rest is just stuff.” was tough, devoid of fat. When he was done, he buried the remains, washed the residue off his hands. The sun was barely over the mountains and it was already hot. He turned south on I-19 for Nogales. A State Trooper pulled up behind him, seemed to be tailing him, then suddenly passed without incident. Acker noticed his heart racing, took a few deep breaths and settled down. 22 |
