waiting . . . where have you been?”
Chuck closed the door. There was a set expression on his face that frightened her.
“Pack up!” he said curtly. “We’re leaving.”
He went to the closet, grabbed his few belongings and threw them on the bed.
“Where are we going?”
He caught hold of her arm, spun her around and slapped her buttocks with a viciousness that made her squeal.
“Get packed!”
She backed away, staring at him.
“Want more?” he asked, moving forward threateningly.
“No!”
She hurriedly pulled her rucksack from under the bed, then going to the chest of drawers, she began throwing her things on the bed beside his.
The cabin door opened and Poke Toholo looked in.
“Chuck.” He beckoned and then backed away.
“Pack my things,” Chuck said. “We take off in five minutes,” and he went out and into Poke’s cabin.
Poke had his rucksack packed.
“Yeah.”
“Is she all right?” he asked.
Chuck nodded.
“You know where to go and what to do?”
“Yeah.”
“See if the old woman wants more money. Be careful how you handle her.”
“We’ve been over that,” Chuck said impatiently.
“So long as you remember.” Poke picked up his rucksack. “I’ll get off. Don’t forget: ten o’clock any morning.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Poke slung the rucksack on his back.
“The last one didn’t go so well,” he said as if talking to himself, “but it was tricky.” He looked at Chuck, his black eyes glittering. “That cop asked for it.”
Chuck didn’t say anything.
“The cops hate a cop killer.” Poke eased the straps of his rucksack. “That means they hate you as much as me - if they find us.”
Chuck’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you think you have to scare me?” he asked.
Poke regarded him.
“I just want you to remember . . . she’s in it too.”
“Okay . . . I’m not deaf.”
“You’ll be hearing from me.” Poke went past Chuck and into the sunshine.
Chuck watched him stride away. When he had lost sight of him, he went over to the motel’s office.
Mrs. Harris was eating a hamburger which she held in a paper napkin.
“We’re checking out, ma’am,” Chuck said.
Mrs. Harris’s four chins became two as she lifted her head.
“You said you were staying longer.”
Chuck had his tale prepared.
“We ran into friends. They want us to stay with them. We paid for a week, didn’t we? Do you owe us something or do we owe you something?”
Mrs. Harris took another bite out of the hamburger and munched while she regarded her account book.
“No, I guess we’re quits,” she said. “You have still two days to go, but you didn’t give me notice. Let’s call it quits.”
“Okay, ma’am.” Chuck put a dollar bill on the counter. “That’s for the old man. Thanks, ma’am. We’ve been comfortable. Maybe if we’re this way again, we’ll look in.”
Mrs. Harris beamed.
“You’ll always be welcomed.” She whipped up the dollar bill. The Indian going as well?”
“Oh sure . . . we’re all going.”
Mrs. Harris chased a piece of onion off her lips with her tongue.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
Chuck had been well coached. He shook his head.
“He’s just a nice guy my wife and I ran into on the road. He’s going to Key West now . . . got a job waiting for him.” He smiled. “Well, we’ll get on. So long, ma’am.”
He returned to the cabin where Meg was waiting with the two rucksacks packed.
“Let’s go,” Chuck said, picking up the rucksacks.
“Where are we going?”
He turned and glared at her.
“Will you never learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut?” he snarled.
“Can’t I say anything?” Meg said with a flash of spirit. “Can’t I even ask where we’re going?”
“Oh, come on!”
Chuck carried the rucksacks to the Buick, dumped the m on the back seat and slid under the wheel. Meg got in beside him.
“Where’s Poke?” she asked. “Don’t we wait for him?”
Chuck stared at her and this time the
Chuck closed the door. There was a set expression on his face that frightened her.
“Pack up!” he said curtly. “We’re leaving.”
He went to the closet, grabbed his few belongings and threw them on the bed.
“Where are we going?”
He caught hold of her arm, spun her around and slapped her buttocks with a viciousness that made her squeal.
“Get packed!”
She backed away, staring at him.
“Want more?” he asked, moving forward threateningly.
“No!”
She hurriedly pulled her rucksack from under the bed, then going to the chest of drawers, she began throwing her things on the bed beside his.
The cabin door opened and Poke Toholo looked in.
“Chuck.” He beckoned and then backed away.
“Pack my things,” Chuck said. “We take off in five minutes,” and he went out and into Poke’s cabin.
Poke had his rucksack packed.
“Yeah.”
“Is she all right?” he asked.
Chuck nodded.
“You know where to go and what to do?”
“Yeah.”
“See if the old woman wants more money. Be careful how you handle her.”
“We’ve been over that,” Chuck said impatiently.
“So long as you remember.” Poke picked up his rucksack. “I’ll get off. Don’t forget: ten o’clock any morning.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Poke slung the rucksack on his back.
“The last one didn’t go so well,” he said as if talking to himself, “but it was tricky.” He looked at Chuck, his black eyes glittering. “That cop asked for it.”
Chuck didn’t say anything.
“The cops hate a cop killer.” Poke eased the straps of his rucksack. “That means they hate you as much as me - if they find us.”
Chuck’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you think you have to scare me?” he asked.
Poke regarded him.
“I just want you to remember . . . she’s in it too.”
“Okay . . . I’m not deaf.”
“You’ll be hearing from me.” Poke went past Chuck and into the sunshine.
Chuck watched him stride away. When he had lost sight of him, he went over to the motel’s office.
Mrs. Harris was eating a hamburger which she held in a paper napkin.
“We’re checking out, ma’am,” Chuck said.
Mrs. Harris’s four chins became two as she lifted her head.
“You said you were staying longer.”
Chuck had his tale prepared.
“We ran into friends. They want us to stay with them. We paid for a week, didn’t we? Do you owe us something or do we owe you something?”
Mrs. Harris took another bite out of the hamburger and munched while she regarded her account book.
“No, I guess we’re quits,” she said. “You have still two days to go, but you didn’t give me notice. Let’s call it quits.”
“Okay, ma’am.” Chuck put a dollar bill on the counter. “That’s for the old man. Thanks, ma’am. We’ve been comfortable. Maybe if we’re this way again, we’ll look in.”
Mrs. Harris beamed.
“You’ll always be welcomed.” She whipped up the dollar bill. The Indian going as well?”
“Oh sure . . . we’re all going.”
Mrs. Harris chased a piece of onion off her lips with her tongue.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
Chuck had been well coached. He shook his head.
“He’s just a nice guy my wife and I ran into on the road. He’s going to Key West now . . . got a job waiting for him.” He smiled. “Well, we’ll get on. So long, ma’am.”
He returned to the cabin where Meg was waiting with the two rucksacks packed.
“Let’s go,” Chuck said, picking up the rucksacks.
“Where are we going?”
He turned and glared at her.
“Will you never learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut?” he snarled.
“Can’t I say anything?” Meg said with a flash of spirit. “Can’t I even ask where we’re going?”
“Oh, come on!”
Chuck carried the rucksacks to the Buick, dumped the m on the back seat and slid under the wheel. Meg got in beside him.
“Where’s Poke?” she asked. “Don’t we wait for him?”
Chuck stared at her and this time the
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