My heart almost stops. River is impaired, caught in some phase I don’t understand. The doorway may be open, but it’s not like anyone is coming to our aid. Definitely not Buddy Miller.
“Get lost, or I’ll make cattle feed outta you, you spoiled wimp!” The black-haired man swings and strikes twice in a row. It happens so quickly that I barely notice what is happening and how. River gasps and pushes him back, but the next moment, he’s hit again and falls, blood gushing from his nose.
The black-haired man raises his fist, and an expression of hate blazes in his eyes. “You think we’re scum potato farmers from Idaho? Think you’re better, don’t you? But things are different here, asshole. Last chance. Get out, or I’ll break every bone in your body.”
No!I jump up like a madman and grab Jack’s arm, but he just laughs. “What do you want, lightweight?”
I’m knocked sideways, probably by his arm, and I stumble back. Something clatters to the ground—a vase.
“Stop right now!”
Someone is standing in the doorway. It takes me a second to recognize Tom and another to see the silver pistol flashing in hishand. “You two!” He points the muzzle of the gun first at John, then at Jack. “You two should get out quicker than I can whisper ‘jerk-offs.’”
The black-haired man stops mid-move, panting, looking at Tom without lowering his hand, which is aimed directly at River’s jaw.
“Are. You. Deaf?” Tom’s dreadlocks hang over his gaunt face, but now he no longer looks like someone who reads tarot cards in his free time.
I inhale softly and look from Tom to Jack, then to River. My heart skips a beat. Never before have I seen River look so dark. His hair hangs over his face, and a storm rages in his eyes as he presses the side of his hand against his nose to stop the bleeding.
“You’re bluffing.” Jack’s voice wavers.
Tom points the gun at Jack’s head, his expression frighteningly calm.
I can’t stop shaking.
“It’s not even loaded, I bet.” Jack’s fist is still clenched, and I can practically smell the testosterone. His prey is being snatched from under his nose, and it drives him crazy. He nods in my direction. “Maybe you wanna join? Then you can show her what a real weapon is!”
Tom’s arm swings around, and a warning shot crashes into some wooden slat outside. For a moment, I think my eardrums have burst.
Jack’s jaw drops. John covers his ears.
“Holy shit,” River says almost reverently. “You should shoot their balls off!”
Tom’s face is still as calm as a rock. His arm swings automatically again, and he aims the muzzle of the gun at Jack’s forehead.
John takes his hands away from his ears and raises them in the air. “Calm down, old man. It was just fun.”
River looks like he wants to kill him. “Be glad that’s not my weapon!” He says to me, “Go already!”
Tom nods. “Listen to your friend. You shouldn’t see this.”
Oh my God, he isn’t going to shoot them, is he?
The tarot guy allows himself a tiny smile. “Don’t look so scared. It’s not what you think.”
I look at River, whose eyes are still spitting fire bolts. “I’ll be right there.”
I leave the room, clutching my shirt in front of my chest, but I glance back. Jack is still livid, but John has given up.
Tom has a gun; nothing can happen, I tell myself, trying to calm down, but my heart won’t stop racing.
Shakily, I walk around the motel to our room and slam the door behind me.
Nothing can happen. It’s over.
I repeat these sentences over and over again, but I feel numb. Only now that I am safe does the shock crush me like a boulder.
I crack the window but I don’t dare open it all the way. I listen intently and stare out at the gravelly back area. I don’t see anything, I don’t hear anything. Whatever happens, happens quietly.
