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Billy stopped running when the shaking quit. He sat his cousin down against a tree. “Mitch? Wake up, will ya?” He shook him. He sat back on his heels when Mitch groaned and opened his eyes tentatively. “I thought you were dead.”
“Not yet,” Mitch grumbled. “Get these things off me.”
“I got my hunting knife on under my Bigfoot costume,” Billy said. “But I can’t reach it.” He held up his own bound hands.
“You’re telling me you can’t break those off?” Mitch patronized him. He scooted himself up off his hands. While Billy’s hands had been bound in front of him, Mitch’s were bound behind him.
Billy strained against the plastic zip tie until his face turned red and a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. They wouldn’t budge. “I can’t do it, Mitch.” He panted.
“Come on, buddy.” Mitch’s voice softened. “You’re a big bad Bigfoot. You can do anything. Remember? You’re stronger. You can run faster and do all kinds of smart stuff when you have your Bigfoot costume on.”
Billy smiled, blushing. “I am stronger.”
“Prove it, man.”
Billy gritted his teeth and set his jaw. He pressed his arms apart until the plastic stretched and finally snapped. He nearly punched Mitch in the face before he caught himself. He looked surprised but quite pleased. “I did it! Mitch! Did you see me? I did it!”
“Good job, Billy. Now get the knife and cut me loose.”
Billy struggled with the zipper in the back, dancing around trying to reach it. Once he got a hold of it, he was able to work it down. He only had to shrug his massive shoulders to get the zipper to slide the rest of the way down. From there, he was able to peel out of the fake fur suit. He left it hanging at his waist as he found the Buck knife on his belt.
“Don’t cut me. Okay?”
“I’ll be real careful, Mitch,” Billy promised. With a careful hand, he cut the zip-ties and Mitch was free.
Mitch smacked him affectionately on the head. “Good job, dork,” Billy smiled. “Now give me the knife. We’re gonna go get our loot.”
“But the policemen took it.”
“They weren’t real police.” Mitch took the Buck knife and waited for Billy to hand over the sheath so he could put the knife on his own belt.
“But ... we can come back and get some more rocks,” Billy said. “I don’t wanna be in any more trouble.”
“Don’t be such a baby, Billy. We’re not gonna get in any trouble in the first place. Let’s get our rocks. Then, we’ll get the hell out of here. No one’s gonna tattle on us. We’ll be long gone before anyone finds out.”
“Where we gonna go?”
“Wherever you want to go, I guess,” Mitch said.
“Can we go to Portland?”
“What’s in Portland?”
Billy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
Mitch smiled. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll go to Portland. Just as soon as we get our rocks back.”
The sound of a broken branch cracked behind them. Mitch ducked, pulling Billy behind a tree. Someone was following them. Mitch had only seconds to get his bearings and figure out where they were, and where to find the idiots who stole his diamonds. He wasn’t about to let them get away with his loot. He’d worked too hard to get the whole ruse set up. They’d scared away hikers and tourists, and even other jokers like Billy in fake Bigfoot suits. This was his payload. He had plans to go to Mexico. He would find a beach and get drunk every day. He might find him some sweet little señorita with big boobs and let her screw him to death. That was how he wanted to go out. Hopefully that would take a long time.
* * *
An hour later, Mitch was sure they were lost, but he was certain they’d lost whoever was tailing them. He didn’t blame Billy for getting them lost. He’d done a good job getting them out of that camp, but he must have run willy-nilly through the forest. It didn’t help that the ground kept shaking or that the volcano acted like it might blow its top any minute. He didn’t care about that. He just wanted his rocks.
“Do you think they’re alright?” Mitch heard the voice before he saw anyone. He managed to grab Billy and pull him back down behind a large boulder.
“I hope so,” Pauline said. “We should have found them by now.”
“Could you tell whose tent was flattened?” The people didn’t see them as they passed. Mitch knew they had the drop on them.
“I think it was Jean-René’s,” Pauline said. “Why would they go off and leave all their supplies?”
“If the ground was shaking as hard here ...”
Mitch jumped out from behind the boulder and clobbered the man over the head with a rock. The woman jumped and yelped, backing into Billy, who wrapped his arms around her and held his hand over her mouth, growling at her.
“Hello, Doll-face,” Mitch smiled.
“What the ...” The curse was muffled as Pauline struggled. The hand wrapped around her arm was humongous and unyielding, not to mention hairy.
“Shut up,” Mitch ordered. He pulled the knife out of its sheath. He held it up as he walked over to her and pressed the blade against her face. “If you scream or make a peep, I will cut you. Understand?”
She nodded, wide-eyed. Billy took his hand away from her mouth. She kept her lips pinched tightly shut for a moment before demanding “Who are you? What do you want?”
“You know the people that were there at the camp site?” Mitch asked. She nodded. “They took something from me, and I want it back. You’re going to help me get it.”
“Okay,” she said, not fully understanding the predicament. “I’ll get it for you as soon as we find them.”
Mitch smiled. “Good. Then I don’t need him.” He reached down and caught the unconscious FBI agent by the hair and tipped his head back. He drew the blade across his throat in one swift motion. Blood gushed and Pauline gasped, covering her face with her hands. Mitch tossed the dying agent to the ground. He drew back his fist and struck her in the stomach. She dropped to her knees but moved to roll the agent over. She felt his life ebbing from his veins as she clamped her hand over the wound, trying to save him.
“Get up!” Mitch pulled her up by her ponytail, putting the bloody knife to her throat. She could smell the blood and almost taste iron on her lips. She struggled in vain to free her hair from Mitch’s grasp. “On your feet, and not another peep!”