Coop emptied his duffel bag, tossing clothes onto the bed, and with the bag in hand, made his way out of the hotel room. He checked his watch while he walked. Everybody in the group was supposed to meet in front of the Toyota ten minutes from now, so he expected to sit on the sun-warmed hood in the cool night and smoke a cigarette before the others arrived, but when he stepped into the parking lot and glanced left, he saw them all waiting there.
They were nervous with anticipation and unable to think about anything else. Coop could see it on their faces. He thought that each of them had probably resisted the urge to head out for as long as possible but had finally succumbed. Just like he had. They could concentrate on nothing else anyway; might as well wait by the car.
Bogart was smoking a joint and looking toward the moon, a bone scythe in a purple sky. Pilar was standing with her hands in her pockets, thinking whatever she was thinking, her face expressionless but her eyes flickering with worry. Normal was leaning against the car, arms crossed, right foot tapping against the faded asphalt to the rhythm of an inaudible rock song, two hundred and forty beats per minute.
A second duffel bag sat like a loyal dog on the ground beside him.
If he’d done what he was supposed to do, there’d be bolt cutters, a drill gun, screws, a hammer, and an angle bracket hidden within it.
Coop lit a cigarette and walked toward them.
“Did you get everything?”
“Of course,” Normal said. “I don’t wanna be doing this, but since it’s happening, we might as well do it right.”
“You didn’t forget anything?”
“I said I got it all.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Already answered.”
“All right, man, forget it. You’re worked up about the job.”
“I’m not worked up about shit. I just don’t like to be second-guessed.”
Coop pulled the key from his pocket and thumbed the fob. The doors unlocked. He yanked open the driver’s-side door and slid in behind the wheel, tossing the empty duffel bag onto the passenger side floorboard. He reached under the dash and popped the trunk.
Looked in his rearview mirror to see Normal raising the lid. Heard the sound of the second duffel thumping heavily against the carpeted floor. The trunk lid slammed shut.
Pilar got into the front passenger seat.
Bogart and Normal slid onto the back bench seat from opposite sides.
Coop took a drag from his cigarette and started the engine. He cracked the window. Slid the transmission into reverse, backed out of his parking spot, and shoved it into drive. Soon they were rolling out of the parking lot and into the street. Headlights splashing angles of light onto the cracked asphalt. Coop’s mind was not on what they were about to do but on what they had planned for tomorrow because, if they failed tonight, they would be stopped before they’d even begun.
He was determined to get James out of that jail. His friend couldn’t die in there. What happened after they got James out he didn’t know, but they could confront that question when the time came.
“What kind of guns did he have?” Normal asked.
“I didn’t get a chance to examine them,” Bogart said.
“I just don’t wanna be doing this for no reason.”
“Whatever we find’ll be better than nothing.”
“If all he’s got is shotguns, we’re fucked.”
“Not if he’s also got deer slugs.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re optimistic. We’ll be firing at eight hundred yards or so and deer slugs are good at what, a hundred max? We’ll have to lob them like footballs. Aim ten feet above the target and hope it makes it.”
“Can’t you take a Xanax or something? You’ve been yapping like a dog since this shit started.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Coop drove past the pawnshop, slowing down to look at it. A dilapidated two-story building. Windows dark. Parking lot empty. He turned a corner, reached the back alley, and made another turn onto the dark, narrow strip of asphalt that ran behind the buildings. He brought the car to a stop, turned off the headlights, and killed the engine. Everybody sat motionless in the silent darkness for what felt like several minutes but was, in fact, less than forty-five seconds.
Finally, Coop took one last drag from his cigarette, flicked the butt out the window. It bounced off a graffiti-covered wall to the left and fell to the asphalt. The ember glowed orange in the darkness. Not even the moonlight reached this narrow alley, cut off by the buildings.
Coop reached down and popped the trunk. Looked at Pilar.
“Mind grabbing the duffel bag at your feet?”
Pilar nodded, grabbed the duffel, and handed it to Coop.
“Let’s do this.” Coop pushed open the driver’s side door, and stepped out into the night.