Algernon - Part Six

The thing about road trips is, you only want to get where you're going faster.

On The Run

 

            Moose watched the man behind the counter out of the corner of his eye as he examined a CZ-82 9x18 Makarov pistol. It was in remarkable condition for being such an old model – the black metal was in no way rusted, and the faux wood plating on the sides of the handle wasn’t chipped, cracked or scratched. People were more interested in semi-automatics these days, and god only knew they were on the same quality level as a children’s toy.

Such a shame…Moose pursed his lips as he examined the barrel and tested the trigger mechanism. He ran his thumb along the grooves in the handle and frowned. If my ship hadn’t blown up we wouldn’t be in this mess...

            “How much?” Moose asked, setting the gun back down on the counter.

            “Two,” the man smiled, holding up two fingers.

            “Thousand?”

            The man laughed. “Are you kidding? Like I would let it go for that!”

Moose raised an eyebrow.

“No, no, no. Two…million.”

            “Look, buddy, I know you can charge whatever you like, but I’ll tell you something. I know that model’s been out of circulation for years and not even the military would pay that much for it…IN BULK.” Moose leaned forward, his eye peering eerily at the shopkeeper behind the metal plate on his face. “Be honest: that gun really isn’t worth THAT much is it?” Moose could see him sweating now. 

The man tugged nervously at his collar and swallowed.

            “For you, I can knock the price down to two thou…” he whimpered.

            “That’s better. And you’ll throw in some nice extras for me…won’tcha?”

            “Three boxes of standard military cartridges – 1000 rounds per case.”

            “Very good.” Moose knew that even at two thousand, he was paying far less than the gun was worth on the black market. But the mere fact that he could intimidate almost anyone frequently ensured that he got his way, no matter what.

            It was just a shame that the same intimidation factor didn’t work on Ryan.

            Exiting the store, he found two people sitting on the sidewalk bickering. One was a man in his mid-twenties with fluffy brown hair dressed in a navy blue suit that was obviously too small for him; his companion was a woman, also in her mid-twenties with black hair cut short, long in the front and short in the back, wearing a yellow top that tied under her breasts, short shorts, and suspenders.

            “I don’t see why you had to do it, is all I’m saying,” the woman growled.

            “What did you want me to do? We weren’t going to get what we needed if you weren’t willing to help.” The man was clearly exasperated.

            “Help? Is that what we’re calling it now? If that’s the case, I’d like to see you ‘help’ once in a while.”

            “I don’t swing that way.”

            “Few beers and I could get you to swing any way I wanted,” the woman smiled.

            “Oh? Is that right?”

            “Yes. You’d be surprised just how easily persuaded you are when intoxicated.”

Moose cleared his throat and the two turned around. “Hi Moose. How long have you been standing there?” the man asked, surprised.

            “Long enough to know that it’s time for mom to step in.” He turned to the man, frowning. “Ryan, what did you make her do?”

            Ryan smiled, flashing a set of straight white teeth. “Well, not only is Valerie here a b***h and a tease, she’s a goddess on her knees.”

            “Give me a really good reason not to…” Valerie started.

            “That’s enough,” Moose interrupted, dragging Ryan down the street by the collar with his free hand. “I’ve had about enough of you two bickering to last me for the next century.” He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Ryan was mimicking what he just said and Valerie was rolling her eyes as she followed.

            “But he started it,” Valerie sighed.

            “Don’t even go there. You two give me enough trouble as it is, even without being attached hands-to-the-throat all the time.”

            “Oh, come on, Moose. We’re not that bad are we?” Ryan asked.

            “Clearly you don’t like to hear yourself talk as much as I thought you did.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “That you’re self-centered,” Valerie broke in.

            “I am not!”

            “Oh my god, how old are you?”

            “I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” Moose growled though gritted teeth, his grip around the bag tightening, trying to control his anger. Ryan and Valerie fell silent. 

Moose let out a deep sigh. All these two do it think about themselves. They go where they want and do whatever they please without any regard for anyone else or the consequences. And then they come back to me wanting me to ‘give them a hand’ or ‘get them out’ of their messes.

            Moose didn’t have very far to drag Ryan before they got to the hotel. The town where they had decided to stop last night was, like many other towns that had sprung up in the last fifty years, comprised of a few seedy black market goods shops and then an equally seedy hotel, if it could even be called that. Hotels these days were merely abandoned buildings, black from fire damage or rotted beyond repair – stuffing coming out of the walls, small pools of water where hordes of mosquitoes bred, mold crawling in strange Escher-esque patterns along the floors and the walls, corpses of rotting humans and animals hidden in dark corners. The middle of the country could hardly be considered livable anymore, especially with only the reliance of the black markets to bring people and money to such places.

            By these standards, where the three had chosen to crash was perhaps of much higher quality than most of the other hotels in the area – the rooms were relatively free of mold and dead bodies, there were beds, and, the greatest luxuries of all, a shower and a television.

            Once they entered the room, Moose dropped Ryan inside the threshold of the door and set his bag down on the bed at the far end of the room. He turned around to face his two colleagues, arms across his chest, and leaned against the bed. Valerie stepped over Ryan as she came in the room and closed the door behind her. Ryan carefully picked himself up, dusted himself off, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

            “See you got yourself a nice toy,” Ryan mused, nodding toward the package on the bed next to Moose.

            “And what did YOU get?” Moose asked. He hoped that they had…er, Valerie had…managed to get some ammunitions.

Ryan raised his eyebrows and looked toward the ceiling as he pulled a gun from out of the back of his pants and tossed it on the bed. Moose picked it up and examined it: a Glock 27 40SW, also long out of circulation, in better than great condition. The gun was about as big as Moose’s two fists pressed together, also black, but had plastic grips on the sides of the gun handle rather than the faux wood that was on the Makarov.

“But does it work?” Moose inquired, tossing it toward Ryan, who caught it almost absent-mindedly.

            “Yes, I tested it. And, thanks to Val’s little ‘favor,’ we got her gun and some ammo boxes free of charge.”

            “Not my finest moment, I assure you,” Valerie spat from her position on the bed opposite Moose.

“I was trying to pay you a compliment, but if you don’t want me to…”

Moose could tell that this was going to turn into another argument quickly if he didn’t step in. “Both of you, stop it!  Now, if you two don’t quit it, I’m turning both of you into the police and you’ll have to actually deal with your own problems? How about that, huh?” 

Both Valerie and Ryan were silent, eyes wide. 

Moose panted, his heart pounding loudly in his ears and wiped sweat off of his face from under the edge of the metal plate. “Whatever happened to dealing with your problems by yourself?”

Both continued to look at him, the looks on their faces suggesting that they knew he was serious this time.

            There was a faint screech of tires outside, and the sound of a car door opening and slamming. Moose strode to the window and peeked out of the molten orange and brown wool window coverings: there was a cop car parked at the far end of the building and two officers were talking down below with the owner of the building and a maid. Moose let go of the window coverings and turned toward the beds.

            “We’ve got company.”

            “Cops?” Ryan asked.

            “No, your grandmother. Yes, cops.”

            “That’s good.”

            “How do you figure?” Valerie shoved the guns in Moose’s bag and put them under the bed.

            “Grandmother’s been dead for a while…and she didn’t like me a hell of a lot anyway.”

            “I can see why.”

            “Don’t you start…” Moose said warningly. He scratched at his bald head, at hair he didn’t have, and thought hard. What could they do? The cops had obviously been following them since they left San Diego…probably picked up prints off the bullets fired in the Hall of Records…He knew a hotel would be a terrible place to hide. They were holed up like mice in a cage, trapped in a corner…

            “What are we going to do?” Valerie whispered, peeking out the window.

            “Get away from the window, first of all,” Ryan answered, pulling her back by the edge of her shorts. 

            “Well, we can’t hide, cause they’re probably going to search the rooms…” Valerie started.

            “Well, I know that but…wait, what?”

            “I said, we can’t hide.”

            “No, no, the part after that.”

            “They’re going to search the rooms?” she asked.

            Moose looked out of one of the long tears in the fabric. Sure enough, the cops were conducting a room-by-room search, accompanied by the owner and the maid. “She’s right, they’re going room by room.” As he turned, Ryan threw a comforter off of the bed closest to the door at Moose, obscuring his vision. “What in the…”

            “Get in the bathroom,” Ryan said as Moose took the comforter off.

            “Who are you to…” Moose trailed off. Ryan had Valerie on her back on the bed, her top cut open to expose her breasts, the sheets in disarray, and was quickly stripping himself. “What are you…?”

            “Bathroom, Moose. Questions later.” He turned to Valerie. “You remember that old movie ‘When Harry Met Sally’? I want you to have what Sally was having.”

            Moose took the comforter, went into the bathroom, and stationed himself behind the door.

            This was not going to end well.

***

            Officer Friendly knocked on the door of room 707, but received no answer. He looked toward the owner with distain.

            “You told me there were people in this room.”

            “They could be out,” the poor little man said wringing his hands.

            “No, I was pretty sure I saw someone up here…”

These small town proprietors were difficult to deal with – not only were they dishonest, they were just as greedy as the store owners, only looking out for themselves, only wanting to make quick money. Their goal was nothing more than to stay in the cops’ good graces, and in exchange the cops turned a blind eye to any sort of illegal business dealings. 

Friendly knocked on the door again, but there was still no answer. He motioned to his partner, who put his ear against the door. The officer’s eyes grew wide for a moment before he quickly removed his ear from the door.

“There’s definitely some people in there, sir.”

Friendly turned to the hotel owner, who shrugged helplessly. “I don’t keep tabs on my customers!”

Friendly signed and signaled to the maid to open the door.

After she had opened the door, he almost wished she hadn’t.

On the bed closest to the group were two…people…or at least that is what he could assume. The two lay in an intricate tangle of sheets, arms, and legs, their clothing was flung about the room and lay hanging over the television and the lamps. The figure on the bottom was gasping and moaning so loudly it was hard to be sure whether it was in pleasure or in pain. They rolled and tumbled haphazardly on the small bed in such a violent manner that their faces were indistinguishable.

He wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t call an ambulance for the poor woman.

Behind him, Officer Friendly heard the maid retch in the hallway and noticed the shadow of his partner leaning in closer to the scene. Taking his partner by the arm, he dragged him out of the room and shut the door behind them.

“Nothing to see here, folks…nothing to see…”

“But, sir,” his partner started.

Friendly held up a hand. “Those weren’t the ones we’re looking for.”

***

Moose heard the door shut with a sudden bang, but continued to hold his breath as he listened to Valerie and Ryan struggle on the bed. That had been close…almost too close…where did Ryan come up with these ideas?

There was no noise. Moose pressed his ear against the door, hoping to hear something. Maybe the cops hadn’t actually left, maybe they were still in there, waiting, watching. Moose tasted vomit in his mouth just thinking about it. He didn’t understand just why and how people got off watching other people having sex.

The bed creaked and there was the sound of something hitting the table with the television. Something was going on, but Ryan and Valerie were talking in such hushed tones it was hard to tell what they were saying.

The bed squeaked again; someone must have gotten up.

“Take it back,” Ryan said.

Moose could hear them now that their voices had risen – one of them had obviously done something to piss the other one off.

“No.” Moose could hear Valerie’s footsteps coming toward the bathroom.

“Take. It. Back.”

“Pen-cil dick.”

“B***H!”

“PENCIL DICK! PENCIL DICK!”

The bathroom door flung open to reveal Valerie wrapped in one of the yellowing bed sheets, Ryan stood stark naked in front of the television. Both of them looked angry and dissatisfied.

“Get out,” she hissed.

Moose picked up the comforter and edged past her, wondering what Ryan had done this time. She stomped angrily past Moose into the bathroom and closed the door, throwing the sheet out after her.

Ryan picked it up, folded it in half, and wrapped it around his waist.

“Was that really necessary?” Moose asked as the water started in the shower.

Ryan didn’t answer.

“This is your deal, you know. I’m not the one that invited her along.”

“God this feels good,” Valerie sighed from the bathroom. “It’s better than sex.”

“You can’t have had very good sex then.”

“Anything’s still better than you!”

Then again, maybe he could figure out what had happened without asking.

Moose quickly clapped a hand over Ryan’s mouth and glared at him with a don’t-you-even-try-it look. “Act your age, for once, would you?”

Ryan snorted and Moose removed his hand. “I’ll act my age, when she acts hers.”

Moose sighed and sat down on the bed, which creaked under his weight. He suddenly felt very old, like he had been living longer than he was supposed to, running on borrowed time.

“What is it with you and her, anyway?”

Ryan bit his lip. “I just…I thought for a minute…I made a mistake, okay?”

Moose’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He paused. “She…she just…” He hit the bedside table with a closed fist, breathing heavily, shaking his head.

The two men sat in silence, listening to the water trickle and splash in the background, Moose staring vacantly at the television.

“I’ll get the clothes together,” Ryan sighed, getting up from the bed.

“You’ll have to get Val some new ones, since you seem to like ruining them,” Moose replied. He nodded toward the yellow strips of fabric that colored the carpet like festive paper streamers. The black suspenders were still attached to the remains of the shorts, which were starting to fray at the edges where Ryan had cut them off with his pocket knife.

“How, we just spent all our money on guns, bombs and hand grenades?”

“Well, you’ll have to think of something. I ain’t gonna tolerate her running around in her birthday suit.”

Ryan shook his head like he was trying to decide between yes and no. “Fine.”

***

            Moose didn’t bother to glance at the scenery anymore; there wasn’t really anything to see, anyhow. Occasionally there would be a bush or a tree or a tumbleweed, but even those were rare. What was the most amazing to him perhaps, was the fact that some of these roads still existed. He remembered being small and watching movies about the highways and how people used to be able to take vacations driving down the road to nowhere in particular; he always thought of it as more of a fantasy.

            Most things these days were fantasies. It was almost impossible to try and fathom the change in realities that had taken place in the years since the war ended. Everything had transformed into a greater and much more dangerous version of itself. The more years passed, the more time that went by, the harder it was for people to see and to understand that what was now was not what should have been. The world had changed; things that should not have been forgotten were lost – people were human beings, not animals.

            On the right, toward the horizon a neon diner sign shone a brilliant blue against the orange and pink skyline. Slowing down, he pulled into the parking lot, and got out of the car.

            Neither Ryan nor Valerie moved. 

The two hadn’t spoken after the incident at the hotel. Ryan had spent most of the time she was in the shower converting the bed sheets into a shirt and a skirt for her, which she had gratefully accepted, but there hadn’t been a traded insult for at least six hours. Moose had tried to break the tension by teasing Ryan about the fact that he could sew, but this hadn’t produced the results he was hoping for.

“Are you coming in?” Moose asked. “I know you’re both hungry.”

“Do we even have any money for food?” Ryan looked up at him.

“I have some pocket change.”

“If you say so.”

Not bothering to open the doors, the two climbed out of the open topped car and walked dejectedly behind Moose as they entered the diner and took a table next to the door.

A waitress approached, her blond hair a large rat nest that encompassed most of her face, her uniform stretched too tightly across her chest and her hips, chomping a piece of old gum and reeking of cheap chewing tobacco.

“What’ll it be?” she asked, looking annoyed as Moose fished change out of his pockets onto the table and counted it.

He glanced from the money to the laminated menu and back to the money. “Three specials and…some coffee.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.”

She snorted through her nose, turned, and walked away, hips swinging jauntily.

Valerie had taken a crayon from out of the small cup in the center of the table and was doodling on her blank napkin; Ryan was folded forward on the table, eyes closed, breathing slowed.

“What, did you two run out of insults?”

“She’s a f*****g ho,” Ryan mumbled.

“So are you,” Valerie responded.

“Boys can’t be hoes.”

“Sure they can.”

“If you say so.”

The two went back to their respective tasks and the table was once again silent.

“Are you going to be like this for the rest of the trip?” Moose sighed.

“Depends – are we going somewhere where I don’t have to be around him?” Valerie nodded toward Ryan.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but…”

“Yes or no, Moose?”

“It’s a casino in old Jersey City. I know a guy there that owes me a favor.”

“You seem to know quite a few people like that…” Ryan smiled over the top of his arm.

            “A casino?” Valerie asked.

            “It only covers as a casino.” Moose lowered his voice and motioned the two closer. “It’s actually a hideout for people like us, people on the run from the law, people who want to unite against the government.”

            “Does anyone that works there happen to be named Blanca?”

            “Blanca?” Ryan asked, turning to face her.

            “Yeah. I hear that dealers named Blanca have an affinity for stealing your money.”

            “How do you figure?

            “My dad told me, ‘If your dealer is named after a Street Fighter II character, you leave that table. Immediately.’”

            “What’s Street Fighter II?”

            “It’s a video game, but that’s not relevant.” Valerie waved dismissively.

            “Then how is that a piece of advice?”

            “If you want to keep your money, go to a different table.”

            “Makes sense, I guess.”

            “You don’t happen to deal, do you?” Moose asked.

            “I have some experience dealing, yeah.” Valerie went back to her drawing.

            “You can get in as a dealer then. That will be your cover.”

            “I will do whatever you want me to, Yoda.”

            “The problem then, is this kid here…” Moose nodded toward Ryan. “He’s not actually good for much of anything but a sleeping contest.”

            Ryan either chose to ignore the comment or had fallen asleep again and hadn’t heard them, Moose wasn’t sure which. Given the way the night had been going, he decided it was the former.

            The waitress came back and delivered the three coffees, the liquid spilling over the sides as she dropped them on the table. Some dripped onto Valerie’s napkin, causing her to abandon her drawing; she stirred absently at her coffee instead.

            “What about you, then?” she asked.

            “I’ll work out back unloading and loading. You can get some good information that way. Ain’t much else that compares to truck lot gossip.”

            “Who’s Yoda?” Ryan interrupted.

            “He’s small and green and could kick your a*s,” Valerie sighed.

            “I doubt that.”

            “I don’t. I think most anyone could kick you a*s,” Moose smiled, remembering how Valerie had tied him to his bed.

            “You make it sound like I’m useless.”

            “It’s not that, so much as it is your more trouble than you’re worth.”

            “Got that right,” Valerie said.

            “Why is everybody always picking on me?” Ryan whined, crossing his arms.

            “Who is John Galt?”

            “Don’t pull that philosophical Romantic Manifesto crap on me!”

            “Just saying…”

            Some things never change... Moose shook his head, ignored the argument, and took a long sip of his coffee.