The only path she was sure of was the one that took her away from The Shiny Bald One and The Yeti. They hadn’t seen her eyeball to eyeball, but they surely heard her snowmobile racing away. Annie still wasn’t sure she’d killed The Chuckle Machine—so she didn’t fully exclude him from the chasing posse—but she kept it as a high probability in the back of her mind. Sometimes there was something to be said for wishful thinking.
When they found the body of The Chuckle Machine, they would have checked in with The Midget Man before taking to the snowmobiles, so that might have dragged their pursuit out a bit, but only by minutes. Maybe a quick discussion on what they planned to do to her when they caught up to her, and maybe a quick scan around The Purple Cat to make sure she hadn’t set a trap, hiding in the shadows, waiting to kill off the rest of them. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world, but Annie hadn’t the time or confidence to consider such a bold option.
She decreased the throttle so that she could better survey the sound patterns from behind her. The moment the humming din stopped, she heard the sound of two engines. Definitely two—no more, no less. It was barely audible, but they were still in motion for sure. They had hopped back on to their snowmobiles and now they planned to kill her, both for revenge and for sheer delight. They wouldn’t go as easy as they had the night before.
Easy.
That was funny, thought Annie. They hadn’t gone easy at all, but they probably hadn’t gone as far as they could have. She thought they might seek to rectify that if they ever caught up to her.
You know they’re gonna catch you. And even worse, Annie, they might get close to you and then hold back for the right moment, for that golden kill. Then you’ll lead them home, and they’ll get back at all three of you. They’ll want to even out the numbers, kill for kill. They’ll take you in exchange for The Chuckle Machine. And for The Midget Man… who? Christian? Paulie? Or maybe one of them will be the principal and the other will be interest.
Annie pursed her iced-over lips, scraping away the layer of frost that had overtaken her goggles. In the first struggles of getting through the bloated snow, she came across a pair of shiny pink goggles hanging on the steel neck of the handlebars, right above the front headlight. If she didn’t wear it, she’d most likely be blinded by the onslaughts of wind and snow. She was only going five more miles or so, until she was finally home, but a lot of damage could be done in a short window of time. The wind alone was treacherous.
Don’t go home, she told herself again. Keep the fight away from your house, away from Paulie. Turn around, Annie. Confront them. Confront the shit out of them.
She revved on the throttle harder again, putting all of her effort into her cold wrists, taking care not to garner so much velocity that she’d careen out of control and plant her face on the spiky branch of a tree, just like her father had warned her as a child. She could only see the tops of the trees, as most of the trunks were buried deep beneath the accumulation, so she’d thankfully hit the bushy parts near the top. Still, it would probably break every bone in her body or spear her like a bluefish tuna.
Don’t go home, Annie. Take them out before they chase you to the ends of the earth. You know they will. Dogs like these don’t loosen up their jaws so easily.
Chapter Three
Mikey’s chest heaved in and out. Even though the machine beneath him was doing all the work, his pinpointed concentration on the bitch’s snowmobile markings was taking all the energy out of him. Marcus told him they’d both need to keep their eyes on the path. If they lost track of her, they might never catch her again, and truth be told, that wouldn’t bother Mikey all that much, as he just wanted to get warm again. It would drive Marcus absolutely bananas though. He might do something crazy if they let the broad get away from them.
It turned out to be an exhausting day over at the Pepper homestead. They’d hauled back a considerable load, cheerfully rejoicing all the way back, feeling like modern day pirates, but without the stumpy wooden legs. But when they found the bodies back at the restaurant, they dropped their load off as quickly as they could manage and took to chasing the lady they’d captured. They couldn’t hear each other over the thrumming grinding of their motors, but every now and then, Mikey could hear Marcus cursing loudly. He couldn’t see his partner’s eyes through the tinted snow goggles, but Mikey pictured the face Marcus was making. Mikey had been the recipient of that timeless expression on countless occasions through the years. The last time had been at the casino for Marcus’ fiftieth birthday party, something that had already irked his punchy side, not wanting to admit how old he was. “Your brain’s nothing more than a shit bucket, throwing cards down like that. You make us look stupid,” Marcus had informed Mikey (always the brunt of their foursome’s scorn) during a seemingly quiet blackjack game, in reference to his inability to count the values of his cards quick enough. Soon after, Marcus’ eyes got wild, like they were known to do by the whole crew… most of whom were dead now, Mikey considered, feeling his heart sink in an inexplicable sadness.
Marcus eyes weren’t “wild” in the sense that they would dart all over the place, like he was nervous about something that nobody else could see. No, that was strictly for movies and mental wards. On the contrary, there was a calmness that overtook his burning eyes. Those feisty retinas calculated everything around him, taking in the world with a different filter than the rest of humanity. His eyes were wild in that they looked like they might explode. Mikey’s brother, Binky, once referred to Marcus as having “supernova eyes.” Mikey wasn’t all that sure what he meant by that, but it seemed a fitting enough description.
They’d come to a full stop.
“You hear anything?” Mikey asked, looking over at Marcus, who stood up on the snowmobile, staring off into the distance. That wildness was there, lurking behind Marcus’ demeanor, just about ready to make an appearance and burn the whole damn town down.
“Yeah. I can hear it. She’s way ahead of us, but I think we can get her if we keep a move on. Fucking bitch,” Marcus said, staring over at Mikey. A fake smile filled Marcus’ face. “We’re gonna crack her skull in, Mikey. You and me, we’re gonna piss inside her brain and see how smart she is then. You hear me, Mikey?”
Mikey thought that sounded a little bit harsh, but he’d go along. Mikey was insufferable like that, sadly enough. He always went along and always would. There wasn’t really any other option with guys like Marcus. If you went along for the ride, then you really went along for the ride. No half commitments. No half measures. All in, or get the fuck out, Marcus was known to say before something unsavory popped up on their itinerary.
“She messed with the wrong guys,” Mikey said, trying to put an edge on his voice, failing miserably. Marcus nodded at this sentiment, pulling his goggles back over his eyes and adjusting his gloves, as well as the hood on his down jacket. Marcus lit up his rig again, revving on the throttle. His pearly white teeth glowed in Mikey’s direction as he did so. Marcus adjusted the choke and revved again. His bright green Arctic Cat chewed through gasoline like a hog, so he was always fidgeting and complaining about it, but never really doing anything about the situation, as was Marcus’ manner. He’d offered Mikey a trade up—snowmobile for snowmobile, no backsies—last fall, but Mikey refused because his own vehicle had belonged to his father before he died. Marcus didn’t push as Mikey expected him to, but the guy had a sentimental streak in him, albeit small and thin like a piece of floss.