Alice observed over her shoulder as Simon pulled out their disguises from the storage and gave the hunting knife to Jenny. “Anything goes wrong, get behind the wheel, and just go.”
Jenny nodded, but she looked even more scared than Alice felt. She imagined Jenny frozen in the driver’s seat, watching Alice and Simon being hauled away in handcuffs. Or worse, on stretchers. Alice didn’t think Dairy Queen employees would be armed, but the police sure would be, and if they saw her with the fake gun that Simon was now passing her, they might justdecide she was a real threat. Her sweaty palm stuck to the plastic handle.
“Same as last time,” he said. “Flash it at them so they know we’re serious.”
“I think they’ll know.”
Simon tossed the denim overalls at her. “Hurry up.”
After they were dressed in their disguises and gloves, Alice followed him down the RV steps, and into the shadows alongside the building, then around the dumpster.
“I’ll go in first. Stay right behind me.”
When they entered through the back door, Alice was hit with the strong scent of lemon cleaner. Simon gestured to the floor. Wet tiles. She nodded and followed him through the kitchen, past metal shelves and ice-cream machines. She peered through the equipment, searching for the workers. Voices, up front. Arguing about who had to clean the grill.
Simon was moving faster now, rounding the counter, the gun straight out in front of him, and both hands gripping it like he was in a police movie.
“Put your hands up!”
The action was so abrupt and shocking that the two workers behind the front counter, holding spray bottles and rags, just stood staring at them with their mouths open.
“I said, put your goddamn hands up!”
The boys dropped the cleaning tools onto the counter. One of the bottles rolled off and clattered onto the floor. They lifted their arms into the air.
Simon was standing in the throughway between the counter and the kitchen, blocking the boys in beside the ice-cream machines. Alice was at his shoulder. He jerked his chin at her.
“Lock the front door, then get back here.”
Alice hurried to the door, contemplated running straight out,then glanced back at Simon, who was watching her. Could she make it out before he shot her? Simon narrowed his eyes, and shifted his body slightly in her direction, one foot back like he was getting ready to run.
Alice flipped the dead bolt and returned to Simon.
“Anyone else in here?” he said to the boys, who were standing side by side and had shuffled backward, so they were a few feet away. The shorter one had brown hair that winged out from underneath his white Dairy Queen paper hat and his cheeks were marked with acne. His red uniform shirt with plaid trim hung off his skinny frame. He couldn’t have been a day over sixteen.
The other one looked a little older and husky, with a thick middle and stocky legs. His blond hair was long under his uniform hat, falling straight over his ears, and something about the way he was staring at Simon made Alice think he was the kind who might try to resist.
“Turn around and get on your stomach with your arms behind your backs.”
They both spun around, but the blond one moved slower, with a you-don’t-scare-me attitude, as he lowered himself. They flattened their bodies on the floor and stuck their arms out.
Simon looked at Alice, who was behind his right shoulder.
“Tape them up.”
She pulled the tape out of the front pocket of her overalls and hurried over to the boys. She crouched near the small one, his wrists thin, and his shoulder blades jutting out from a narrow back. His uniform pants were baggy, the loops scrunched together by a belt. His Dairy Queen hat had fallen off. The back of his hair waved into curls at the base of his neck.
“Don’t look at us,” Simon yelled, and both kids kept their heads turned away.
Alice fumbled with the end of the tape, struggling to peel itback while wearing the knitted gloves. She could feel Simon’s mounting agitation behind her, the squeaking of his shoes pacing on the clean tiles. Finally, she had the tape end, which she wound around each boy’s wrists tight enough to hold them but hopefully not cut off their circulation.
They were so close to Alice that if they had turned their heads, even for a second, they could have seen her face, her eyes, but they stayed frozen. The smaller one had started crying and whimpering, then begging. “Please don’t hurt us. Please, I don’t want to die.”
“Jesus Christ. Tape that kid’s mouth shut.”
Alice ignored the order and muttered to the boy, “Stop crying.” He tried to rein in the sobs, but he was doing a poor job.
“Tape him!” Simon shouted again.
