The Mountain Page 23
Charlie turned and looked at Mark. “This ain’t good.” He stood for a moment, as if deep in thought. Finally, he said, “Fuck it. I’m gonna drop Tina off and go round up some help. Go back up and look for Harry.”
Tina said, “You think he’s still alive?”
Charlie said, “I don’t know, baby. I hope so.”
They went back outside.
Mark stopped beside the Mustang, and Eddie thought of the light blue Mustang back at Farley’s. Thel’s Mustang. He couldn’t help but wonder what had become of her, what she had endured down in the cave with the freaks who looked much worse than the pig-faced girl.
“Whose is this?” Mark said as he opened the door.
“Bobby Jarvis,” Charlie told him. “The guy Arley gutted. Won’t do him much good now. Use it if you need it, if the keys are in it.”
Mark said, “The keys are in it… cool.”
Eddie sat his guitar by the trunk, and Mark stepped up to Charlie. “You saved our lives, dude. I’ll never forget it.”
Grinning, Charlie said, “I did, didn’t I?”
“You damn sure did.”
Mark offered his hand and Charlie shook it. “So long,” he said, and he and Tina walked back to Harry’s truck. They both climbed in through the driver’s side, Tina first and Charlie behind her. Moments later, the truck started up and Charlie and Tina took off across the narrow wooden bridge.
“Jesus, dude. What a night, huh?”
“Fucked up, wasn’t it?”
“No doubt,” Mark said. He leaned into the Mustang and snatched the keys from the ignition, walked around to the trunk and handed them to Eddie.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Eddie said, when the trunk popped open and the strong, musky scent of high-grade marijuana wafted up from the pile of sealed cardboard cartons that filled it.
“Holy cow.”
“What’re we gonna do now?”
“What do you think we’re gonna do?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“What do you wanta do, leave it here?”
“Haven’t you had enough? Didn’t you learn anything tonight?”
“Yeah, dude, I learned something. Don’t steal Christmas trees. Now pot, on the other hand.”
“You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?”
“What? We’ll drive out to the truck, bury this shit under the trees and haul ass to Cajun land.”
“Moron.”
“What could be easier?”
“Why don’t we leave it here and bypass the fifty year sentence when they catch us with that shit?”
“Now who’s the moron?”
“That’d be you, brother.”
“We really are brothers, aren’t we?”
“God, I hope not!”
Mark laughed and Eddie slammed the trunk closed. He walked around and opened the passenger door, leaned the seat forward and laid his guitar in the back. Then he stood up and looked across the roof at Mark, shook his head and they both got in the car. Once inside, Mark started the engine, gunned it a couple of times and slipped the transmission into gear.
Then the two of them roared out of the dirt lot, across the bridge and down the two lane black top.