Hustle by Tom Pitts Page A

binds, feet first. After a few minutes, Bear’s hunting knife slipped out of the inside of his boot and fell on the cement floor.
    He said, “Ah, there she is.”
     
    The three worked at getting the tape off.  Bear instructing them with such precision, the boys wondered if the man had been in this situation before. They had to get intertwined, lay on top of one another, use their teeth, and hold that big hunting knife with their mouths. Every once in a while they’d hear another scream from upstairs, the unmistakable imprint of pain.
    As they worked, the boy s tried to find out what they could about their new friend. Bear told them as little as possible. He was a friend of Gabriel’s; he was there to evict Dustin from the premises. They asked about Dustin. Bear didn’t tell them much, didn’t tell them about the murders. No, he didn’t know what Dustin was doing there in the first place, and, when they asked about Mrs. Thaxton, Bear scoffed and said, “Long gone.”
    Bear didn’t ask them anything. He figured out as much as he needed to know for the moment. They didn’t know him, they didn’t know Dustin, and, judging by their question about Mrs. Thaxton, they didn’t really know much about Gabriel either. He stayed focused on the task of freeing himself. Soon it became easier, they were on their feet, cutting at each other’s tape while they stood back-to-back. Then when they were free, Bear walked to the door, not surprised to find it locked, and then to the tall wine rack. He took a bottle and said, “Either of you got an opener?”
     
    Dustin had dragged Gabriel from the bathroom into the bedroom. He paced back and forth in front of him, mumbling and trying to make up his mind about what he was going to do. He paused and stood at the dresser, taking a couple of deep hits off the glass pipe. He held it in and blew it out, moaning softly to himself. It sounded like someone had tickled him, just a little. When he was done, he turned to Gabriel and said, “Get up, we’re leaving.”
    Gabriel moaned, “I can’t get up. I can’t move. I’m still tied up.”
    Dustin had forgotten the old man was still bound. He looked at him, curled up in the fetal position on the floor, looking pathetic, broken. First, he took another hit from his pipe, then he untied the old man. He was rough and quick and when he was done he jerked Gabriel up by the arms. “Get dressed, fast. We’re leaving.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “You know where we’re going. Now hurry up. Grab the rest of that speed from your safe, too—and whatever cash you got in there.”
    Gabriel had no idea where Dustin intended to take him.
     
    Bear was staring at the door.
    “Don’t bother, it’s locked,” said Big Rich.
    Donny said to Rich, “He knows, he already tried it.”
    The boys were looking for something to open the wine with. They figured they’d be here a while. Rich thought, if they could drink a few bottles, it might take the edge off the on-coming sickness. If they had to piss, they could do it in the empty bottles. His mind was already gearing up for an extended stay.
    “Hey, you think you could use that big knife of yours for opening one of these,” he asked, bottle in hand.
    Bear said, “I got a better idea.”
    The boys watched as Bear went to work on the door with his knife, using its point like a flathead screwdriver. “This thing,” said Bear, “was built to keep people out, not in. The goddamn hinges are on the inside.”
     
    Bear had the door off in no time. They’d escaped, but as soon as they got upstairs, Bear knew the house was empty. He could feel it. He opened the front door and saw that the Bentley was gone.
    “Shit.”
    Big Rich was in the kitchen, still trying to figure out how to open the wine. Donny was behind Bear at the door, “What is it? Are they gone?”
    “Yeah, they’re gone.”
    “You sure? Shouldn’t we check?”
    “Oh yeah, I’m sure. But we’re gonna check anyway, see what we can