Chub said: "Life or death. This ain't a game."
"And that's how come we got to let you go," said Bode Gazzer. "Go on home and watch over your momma. Ain't no shame in that."
Shiner surprised them both. He stood up and said, "No way." He glanced at Amber, who gave a nod of support. "You can't kick me out. You can't." He pointed at the bruised and scabby tattoo. "See there? W.C.A.I'm in for life."
"Son, I'm sorry, but it's no good." Bode understood it was up to him to reason with the boy, because Chub had no tolerance for argument. "All we can say is thanks for everything, and so long. Also, we're gonna give you a thousand bucks for all your loyalty."
Amber chuckled sarcastically. These guys were unbelievable.
Emboldened, Shiner said, "A thousand dollars is a goddamn joke."
Bode asked him what he wanted.
"To stay in the militia," Shiner answered briskly, "plus I want one-third of the lottery money. I earned it."
Chub hurled the tarpaulin aside and lurched to his feet. "Shoot the motherfucker," he said to Bode.
"Just hold on."
"If you don't, I will."
Bode Gazzer scowled at Shiner. "Goddammit, son." He took the stolen .380 out of his belt. "Why'd you put me in this posture?"
Amber saw that Shiner was scared out of his mind. She said: "Colonel, there's something you ought to know. Tell him, Shiner. Tell them what you did at Jewfish Creek."
Here was the big bluff. Shiner struggled to remember what Amber had coached him to say, exactly the way she'd said it last night. But he couldn't quite piece it all together the sight of the Beretta had unnerved him.
"About the videotape," Amber prodded.
"Oh ... yeah."
"The phone call you made," she said.
Bode asked, "What phone call?"
"That's right," Shiner said. "The store video, 'member? You guys had me swipe it from the Grab N'Go. On account of it proves you didn't win the Lotto "
"Shut the fuck up," Chub barked.
" because you didn't even show up in Grange till the day after. It's all on the tape."
Bode, tapping the .380 against his thigh. "Whatphone call?"
"Tell him," Amber said to Shiner.
"To my Ma," Shiner lied. "The tape's hid in my car and the car's at Major Chub's trailer. I called my Ma and told her come down get it, she don't hear from me by Thursday "
"Tuesday," Amber interjected.
"Right, Tuesday. I told her come get the car."
"Then what?" Bodean Gazzer's throat was like chalk.
Shiner said, "I told her to give the video to the black girl. JoLayne. She'll know what to do."
"You're full a shit," Bode said, without conviction.
"I ain't."
"I heard him make the phone call," said Amber.
"Then goddamn the both a you."
Amber announced she was going for a swim, alone. Shiner was relieved, because he'd been waiting to take a world-record leak.
Chub and Bode withdrew to the Reel Luvfor an urgent conference. Even in his dazed and febrile condition, Chub comprehended what the kid had done; gotten hisself some insurance. "Does this mean we can't kill the fucker?"
"I don't see how," Bode said.
"And what's all this about the money?"
"He wants a cut, we gotta give it to him," Bode said. "Thank God he only knows about one a them lottery tickets. So, like ... what's a third of fourteen million?"
Chub strained to do the division in his head. "Four something. Four point five, four point six."
"So that'll be his share. Long as he don't find out about the other goddamn ticket."
Chub felt like puking. Four and a half million bucks for that dumb dork! It wasn't right. Sinful was what it was.
"Blackmail," Bode said morosely. There was no denying the gravity of their predicament. Saving white America would have to wait; first they had to save themselves.
"Tell you what else," he said to Chub. "Your pretty blond sweetheart's in on the deal."
"Not Amber. Ain't no way."
"You think Shiner's smart enough to dream this shit up? Kid can't find his own dick with a pair of salad tongs."
"But still." Chub didn't want to believe Amber had hooked up with Shiner. Why would she be with him, he wondered, when she could have me?
Bode Gazzer told him to put on some clothes. "Before your pecker gets fried."
"But I'm burnin' up. Feel how hot." He flopped his tumescent crab arm on the deck of the boat.
"No, thanks," Bode said, stepping away. A notion had come to him. "Today's Monday, right?"
"Don't ask me."
Bode drummed his fingers on the gunwale. "That gives us a whole day until Shiner's momma hits the launchpad. Say we leave right now run this puppy back to the highway, hop in the truck and haul ass. We could make Tall'hassee by lunchtime tomorrow."
Chub peeped ferretlike from inside Amber's orange shorts. "What about the video?"
"We stop at the trailer on the way north. Find the damn tape and burn it. Burn the whole car if we got to, just like we done to that asshole's Miata."
"Fan-fucking-tastic." Chub's laugh came out as a dry rattle. He couldn't wait to get off that miserable island. "Leave the sneaky bastard out here to rot. I love it, man."
"Her, too."
"Aw, no!"
Bode Gazzer said, "We better."
"But I haven't got to fuck her yet. Not even a b.j."
"Come on. Let's load the boat."
Chub said, "We got time, man, if we hurry. Time for both of us to get a piece."
Bode should've short-circuited the idea, but instead he allowed it to float around his imagination. He was beset by a vision of Amber nude, on her knees.
"We tie up the skinhead," Chub proposed, "we each take a turn with the girl and then we split."
"Will she go for it?" Bode didn't feel right about raping a white woman. More important, it was a big-time felony.
Chub said, "S'pose it was her only way off the island. Then she'd go for it, you bet she would."
"Good point," Bode said.
It was a historic moment, Chub with an actual brainstorm. He climbed into the Reel Luvto search for his bag of glue.
Bode heard footsteps and wheeled around. He should've been ready with the Beretta, but he wasn't.
Amber stood there in the camo jumpsuit, the top half open, her hair slick and shining from her swim. "I can't find Shiner," she said.
"Ain't that a shame." Chub, leering through the crotch of her waitress shorts.
Bode Gazzer matter-of-factly told Amber the plan, told her the price of the boat ride back to the Keys. She didn't sob, didn't run, didn't get mad. Her expression was totally neutral, giving both men a misplaced sense of expectation. Chub had a bounce in his step as he got out of the boat.
Amber said, "Take those ridiculous pants off your face."
Bode was momentarily distracted by the crab attached to Chub's hand; he thought he detected movement.
Amber repeated her demand. "Take 'em off. You look like a pervert."
"Listen to you," Chub said, and made a step toward her. That's when he saw the Colt Python .357. HisColt. His Lotto ticket, his life's fortune, his entire mortal future all in the hands of a pissed-off Hooters babe.
"Jesus Willy," he said.
Bodean Gazzer was amazed at how fast it was unraveling, all because of rotten luck, blind lust and stupidity.
"Have some more glue," he told his partner. "See what else you can fuck up."
Amber fired the pistol at Chub's feet. The bullet kicked sand on his shins and ankles. He yanked the orange pants off his head and tossed them.
"Thank you," Amber said. "Now, what did you guys do with Shiner?"
"Nothin'," they answered, Bode first and then Chub.
None of them could know that Shiner was exactly one hundred and twenty-seven paces away, wetting himself in stark terror.
24
As he pointed the shotgun, Tom Krome wrote the lead of the story in his head:
An unidentified convenience store clerk was shot to death Monday in a bizarre attack on a remote island off the Florida Keys.