“That last place was a gold mine!” Sue Ling said.
“I’m sure it was,” Bell said.
“The old geezer had a great gun collection. All kinds of shit. He was some kind of banker. Said he was a big shot and could get us all the money we wanted,” Johnny said.
“I thought you said there wasn’t anyone at home?” Lacy said.
“Did I? Anyway, this looks like a pretty fancy place. They’ve got to have all kinds of good shit up in there. Rich people’s place—full of rich-people’s shit.”
“There are still laws,” Bell said. “Just because of what’s happened doesn’t mean—”
“Are there?” Johnny said.
“You think so?” Sue Ling said. “I don’t think there are any. Not anymore. Everything is free. It’s like Christmas, only better.” She turned toward them and smiled like a little kid. She’d raided some rich girl’s closet and wore a get-up like one of the Orange County Housewives, dressed for a glam-winter sojourn, complete with a white mink ski hat. “It’s not like—you know, it was before.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Lacy said.
“Wasn’t right to send me to Pelican Bay for two years either, or keep me in an isolation cell, but the motherfuckers did it anyway,” Johnny said. “All I did was sell a little meth.”
“You’re both crazy,” Lacy said. Bell felt her squeeze his hand again. “You’re both crazy. And I’m going to tell my father what you’ve done.”
“Well, are we crazy, honey?” Johnny asked his girlfriend.
“I’m crazy about you,” Sue Ling said. “Hey, I got a Chanel bag for free! Everyone in the store was dead!” The Chinese girl smiled in the deranged way that Oxy-moron heads developed, half shit-eating-ain’t-I-cute grin, and half seven-year-old’s smug look. The painkiller made them believe that everything and anything that came out of their mouth was either funny, or profound, when it was puerility personified.
The girl lifted a Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum with the eight-inch barrel from where she’d had it stuck between her seat and the armrest. She pointed it at Bell. The huge pistol was fully loaded. Bell could see the tips of the bullets facing out from the pistol’s open cylinders.
“That pistol there is better than the Desert Eagle. We got both from the old guy. But the Smithy has that long eight-inch barrel; you get 2075 feet per second vs. 1475 feet per second with the Israeli’s Eagle. Shit, these Jews really know now to make some kick-ass guns! Both 300-grain loads, of course. That’s got the hollow points too. Hits these Howlers—Splat City, brain-wise. I get a kick out of watching them hit the deck,” Johnny said.
“I could shoot you both right now and I would get away with it. That’s so cool,” Sue Ling said and broke out laughing. Only joking.” She put the huge pistol down. “I wouldn’t, though— shoot you. I fired it up at the mansion and it hurt my wrist! We were messing around shooting down the hallways, to see how many doors we could get through. This fucking thing, we couldn’t find the bullet! I think it went through six doors!”
“It was a big-ass place! Had a private fucking lake,” Johnny said. “Some kind of special wine-drinking room. Fucking rich people think of all kinds of shit. Whoever heard of a special wine-drinking room? Fucking idiots. Old man kept asking me what I wanted with him. So I shot him in the foot and told him I wanted to see him dance, like in the Westerns. Remember? Fucker danced. Hopping like a motherfucker. They showed all the cool Westerns at Pelican Bay. I love me some Westerns,” Johnny said.
“I want out!” Lacy said. “Let me out! He’s crazy!” She let go of Bell’s hand and reached for the car’s door handle but it was locked.
“Honey, you can’t go out there. They’re out there. Shit. Don’t act crazy,” Sue Ling said. The girl’s pretty young face wore a look of honest concern.
She might only be sixteen or seventeen years old, Bell realized.
“Your call,” Johnny said. He turned and looked at Bell. “I’ll let your bitch out if she really wants out.” He reached for the Land Rover’s armrest and they heard the mechanical sound of all four doors unlocking together. “Go on ... get!”
Lacy looked at Bell, her hand on the door’s lever.
“We can’t get out here,” Bell said. “We’ll die. I promised your father I’d look after you.” Bell turned and looked at Johnny. “Why don’t you turn on the radio, see what you get. It’s satellite, so we should be able to get some news. Like you said.”
“So are you in, or are you out, bitch?” Johnny asked Lacy directly, ignoring Bell. He tilted the black porkpie hat back in frustration.
Lacy stared at him. “In,” she said finally.
“Right. Okay.” Johnny hit the latch and Bell heard all four door locks snap shut. “Now let’s go see what kind of goodies we can find.” They drove through the portals and turned down a long new-looking driveway passing a well-lit sign: “Sierra Ranch—a Four Seasons Luxury Resort and Spa.” Johnny turned on the satellite radio and instead of the news, tuned in a country and western station that was playing “Rawhide.” He and his girlfriend started singing along with the famous Frankie Lane tune: “Don’t try to understand ’em ... just ride, rope, and brand ’em ...”
It was while they were driving down the driveway, Johnny making the cracking motion of a whip, playing along with the song, that Bell decided he would probably have to kill them both, and soon, or he and Lacy would be murdered by the two drug-fueled lunatics before the night was over.
The Howlers had already visited the hotel, and probably not that long ago, Bell thought, as they pulled into the elegant well-lit turn around, a majestic pine tree in the center of it. A bellman—his head pulled off his shoulders, exposing a blunt-looking spinal column—lay in the middle of the driveway. Expensive suitcases were scattered everywhere. Some had been opened and their contents scattered by the mindless creatures. Guests had been unloading, it seemed, as an extra-long stretch limousine was parked in front of the Bell Captain’s station, with all its doors left wide open. The limo’s back window was smashed in. The limo driver was hanging out of the driver’s side door; a large stone had split his skull wide open, the stone still protruding from the dead driver’s head.
“Je-e-sus,” Sue Ling said. “Look at all those clothes, babe!”
“Bonanza!” Johnny said. He pulled the Land Rover directly behind the limo. “Okay. Let’s see what we got here.”
Bell watched Johnny pocket the car’s electronic key, lifting it from a tray on the armrest.
“I’m staying here,” Lacy said.
“No. Everyone out,” Johnny said. “No fun otherwise. And, I don’t trust you.” He waved his pistol at them. “O—U—T, spells out. I’ve got an idea.”
“At least give us a weapon,” Bell said. “They could still be here, the things.”
“Well, just give us a shout if you see one,” Johnny said. Sue Ling stepped out of the car, the huge Smith & Wesson held in her left hand.
A man pushed through the doors of the honey-colored, log-cabin style lobby. He was in his forties, wearing smart ski gear. He looked terrified. “Thank God. Can you help us? My wife is sick. Please. Can you help us? We need a doctor. I’ve been trying to call out for an ambulance, but my cell phone doesn’t work.”