Michael Smith - Rivers

Nothing moved in the parking lot.

“Come on!” Evan yelled.

Cohen waited, counted to five, and still nothing moved. So he turned and ran out the back of the kids’ store and jumped from the loading bay into the back of the truck. Evan was in front of Nadine and the truck leaped and Nadine was close behind as they sped out from behind the stores and the trucks leaned at the left turn into the parking lot and at the right turn onto the highway. Then Cohen slapped on the back glass and yelled, “Stop it! Stop it!”

Evan hit the brakes and Nadine nearly rear-ended them but she swerved to the side. Cohen told her to wait and told Evan to turn around and go back to the big truck and hurry your ass up. Evan spun around in the four-lane and drove hard back to the truck and he slammed on the brakes and Cohen crashed into the back window. He dropped his rifle and grabbed a pistol out of his pocket and told Evan to get turned back around. Cohen ran around to the back of the men’s truck and dropped the tailgate and saw what he was after. He jumped in the truck bed and the first two gas containers he grabbed were empty and he tossed them aside, but the next two were full five-gallon containers.

He lifted the gas containers and set them on the tailgate and he jumped out. He waved Evan to back up and Cohen set the containers in the back of the pickup and as he was climbing in, Mariposa pointed and yelled, “Look back there!”

Coming for them were the headlights of an army utility truck and standing in the back was a handful of men pointing in their direction. The truck was coming fast and Cohen took out the pistol and fired it over and over to make the sound of men with guns instead of man with gun and Evan hit the gas pedal. When the pistol was empty Cohen tossed it over the side and took out the other but didn’t fire. They shot back and the side-view mirror shattered and then a rim shot off the back fender. Evan laid on the horn as he got to Nadine, the shots skipping around them and Cohen lying flat in the back and Mariposa screaming come on, come on. Evan and Nadine together drove off like hell, swerving and splashing through the big stuff and busting through the little stuff and when the army truck got to the U-Haul, they kept firing, but they stopped to see about the others, and within minutes, the two trucks were out of town and out of sight, and the rain came on as if it had something to prove.

When it felt safe, they pulled the trucks off the highway underneath the cover of a half-standing auto shop and they all got out and walked around and the wind and rain relieved their anxiety-ridden faces. Some thanked God and some were still breathing heavy from the excitement and some did both. The baby had to be fed so Nadine climbed in the back and found the formula and a bottle of water and gave it to Kris, who sat in the truck cab with the baby. Brisco and Evan walked behind the building to pee. Cohen, after taking the gas cans and pouring gas into the trucks, walked away from them all and stood alone, looking back south from where they had come. It was charcoal gray and the rain fell in big drops and swirled with the twisting winds.

He managed to get a cigarette lit this time and he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe he had panicked and left the Jeep. Made the decision to hop in the back of the truck without thinking about the Jeep. Son of a bitch son of a bitch son of a bitch, he kept saying to himself.

“What?” Nadine said.

“Nothing,” he snapped.

“Bullshit.”

“My Jeep. I left the Jeep and I got to have it.”

“It’s a Jeep. It ain’t a gold brick.”

“I know what it is and I got to get back to it.”

“Like hell,” she said.

COHEN GOT AWAY FROM HER and he smoked and cussed himself. By the end of the cigarette he had calmed some and he went to each of them to make sure no one was hurt or hit.

“That was like a movie,” Nadine said. “And I like watching a lot better than being in one.” She rubbed her wet head with her hands and her short hair stuck up in different directions. “I’m going to sit with Kris,” she said.

Brisco hopped around with his hands made into pistols and he shot imaginary bullets at imaginary bad guys. Evan told him to stop it but he kept on. Cohen asked Evan if he was all right and Evan nodded.

“That was a good job,” Cohen said and he patted the boy on the shoulder, but Evan still didn’t answer.

Mariposa told Cohen she’d like that cigarette now. He lit one from his and gave it to her.

“You’re not hit, are you?” she asked.

“No.”

“You think that was them that got all the others down in the parking lot?”

Cohen nodded.

“You think that’s all?”

“It’s never all, Mariposa.”

She smoked and squinted. Seemed to get used to it. She looked scared. They all looked scared but for Brisco. Evan walked away from them, his hands in his pockets. Cohen wanted to say something to him but he didn’t know what.

Mariposa’s hand shook as she moved the cigarette to and from her mouth. Her head was wet and she shivered from the cold or from what had just happened or from both or from something else altogether. She dropped the cigarette and looked at Cohen and she was about to cry and she said, “I didn’t mean nothing in her dress. I swear it.”

“I know.”

“I swear,” she said and she was in a full shiver and Cohen stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or only shaking but it didn’t matter to him. His chin sat on top of her head and he felt her shivering against him and he saw Evan standing alone staring out into the storm and he looked out at the truck where the women sat with the baby. He held Mariposa and it crossed his mind that it had been years since he had held on to anyone like this. He thought to let go once, twice, but he didn’t. He let her cry or whatever it was she was doing. He held on to her until she stopped shaking. He let her move away from him.

And she finally did. She wiped her eyes. Wiped her face.

“We better go,” he said and she nodded and sniffed.

Brisco raced by and shot Cohen with each hand. Pow, pow, pow, he cried with each shot. Evan had turned to see what he was doing and he stomped over to Brisco and yanked him up and yelled, “Don’t you do that shit!”

Brisco yelled ouch and Cohen said, “Calm down. He don’t mean nothing.”

“You let me be. He ain’t yours.”

“I know he ain’t but he’s playing.”

“That ain’t no way to play,” Evan said and he shoved Brisco away. “I mean it, Brisco. Quit that shit.”

“Jesus,” Cohen said. “Settle your ass down. We got enough shit going on.”

“You settle down,” Evan said and he told Brisco to come on and get in the truck. He took the boy by the coat arm and dragged him out into the rain.

Mariposa called out to Evan but Cohen said let him go. Let him be for a while.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mariposa asked.

The storm roared now and it was damn near dark. They had to get somewhere. Cohen tugged at his beard, looked out at the weather and looked back at Mariposa. “What’s wrong with him?” he said. “Only the same thing that’s wrong with all of us down here. Come on.”

They got back into the truck cabs. Mariposa wiped her face again with her hands. She noticed Cohen’s anxious look and she asked him if he was all right.

“I got to go back,” he said.

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah. I damn sure do,” he said. Son of a bitch. He was sick for not thinking about the Jeep when it mattered.

Mariposa said, “You don’t need anything down there. We’re almost there.”

“We might be almost there.”

“We are.”