the ones who loaded it, and since Nauls is a fucking mongoloid, you better start talking.”
“Mongoloid?” Nauls cocks an eyebrow. “What the hell is a mongoloid?”
“It’s them little elf-looking motherfuckers,” Snow explains, “the ones with the pointy heads and shit.”
“No, those are cretins,” Landon says. “Mongoloids are the redheads.”
Nauls tucks his gun into the back of his pants. “I don’t have red hair.”
Landon sighs but keeps his attention on Rooster, who lowers his weapon as a peace offering. “Get your piece off me,” he says, “and we’ll figure this shit out.”
“Nah, asshole, first you’re gonna tell me where the—”
An enormous muscle-bound arm shoots out of the darkness behind him and wraps around Landon’s throat, strangling him with such force that his feet leave the ground. He drops his revolver and the flashlight and clutches at the arm with both hands in a futile attempt to dislodge it. The flashlight rolls across the floor, tumbling through the room and painting the farmhouse with sweeping arcs of twisting light that eerily illuminates then plunges each man back into darkness. “Listen to me and listen to me good,” Starker says, holding the smaller man effortlessly, his voice just above a whisper in Landon’s ear. “We got a lot more to worry about here than that money. Now you cut the shit, keep your mouth shut and do what Rooster tells you to do or I’ll snap your neck. You feel me, boy?” Landon manages a gurgling response and Starker releases him. He crashes to the floor with a thud and one of his feet breaks through the boards.
Landon lays there a moment, clutching his throat, then pulls free, retrieves his revolver and slowly returns to his feet without further comment.
Nauls scurries to the corner and retrieves the flashlight. As he brings it round, he stops on something beneath the old staircase. “Hey, there’s a—”
“Door under the stairs,” Rooster interrupts. He knows he’s right but has no idea how he’s come to possess such information.
Starker finds Rooster’s face in the dark. “It leads to another staircase.”
“Then a hallway,” Snow says quietly.
“And there’s doors on both sides of the hallway,” Nauls adds.
Everyone looks to Landon. He rubs at his throat. “Oh I’m allowed to talk now?” He glares at Starker. “Just wanna make sure it’s OK with fucking Albert DeSalvo over here before I say anything.” Nauls aims the light at him, leaving no doubt that despite his bravado, even Landon is terrified by what’s happening. He finally nods reluctantly, fidgeting about tensely. “Yeah, I—I don’t know how I know it either, but behind the doors there’s a bunch of rooms.”
“Even if we’re right, end of the day it’s just an abandoned old farmhouse with scarecrows out front and some rooms where a cellar ought to be,” Snow says. “Why we all so scared?”
“There’s only one way to find out for sure.”
“Aw, fuck me running.” The beam of light begins to tremble as Nauls heads for the porch. “I want out right now, man, this is bullshit.”
Starker lifts the AK-47 higher on his hip, and with one short sidestep, blocks the doorway. “We’ve all been here before. We need to know why.”
“But what happened to the money?” Snow asks, his face a mask of barely contained terror.
“Maybe there never was any money,” Starker says. “Maybe there wasn’t even an armored car.”
“Tell that to Carbone,” Landon counters. “Fuckhead died robbing it.”
“Maybe that’s not how he died. Maybe that’s just what we remember. Maybe this is all some kind of sick game.”
Nauls looks at the floor. “Well I don’t wanna play no more.”
“Think about what he’s saying,” Rooster says. “Does anybody really remember anything before the job today?”
“Of course we know what happened today,” Landon says.
“Mongoloid?” Nauls cocks an eyebrow. “What the hell is a mongoloid?”
“It’s them little elf-looking motherfuckers,” Snow explains, “the ones with the pointy heads and shit.”
“No, those are cretins,” Landon says. “Mongoloids are the redheads.”
Nauls tucks his gun into the back of his pants. “I don’t have red hair.”
Landon sighs but keeps his attention on Rooster, who lowers his weapon as a peace offering. “Get your piece off me,” he says, “and we’ll figure this shit out.”
“Nah, asshole, first you’re gonna tell me where the—”
An enormous muscle-bound arm shoots out of the darkness behind him and wraps around Landon’s throat, strangling him with such force that his feet leave the ground. He drops his revolver and the flashlight and clutches at the arm with both hands in a futile attempt to dislodge it. The flashlight rolls across the floor, tumbling through the room and painting the farmhouse with sweeping arcs of twisting light that eerily illuminates then plunges each man back into darkness. “Listen to me and listen to me good,” Starker says, holding the smaller man effortlessly, his voice just above a whisper in Landon’s ear. “We got a lot more to worry about here than that money. Now you cut the shit, keep your mouth shut and do what Rooster tells you to do or I’ll snap your neck. You feel me, boy?” Landon manages a gurgling response and Starker releases him. He crashes to the floor with a thud and one of his feet breaks through the boards.
Landon lays there a moment, clutching his throat, then pulls free, retrieves his revolver and slowly returns to his feet without further comment.
Nauls scurries to the corner and retrieves the flashlight. As he brings it round, he stops on something beneath the old staircase. “Hey, there’s a—”
“Door under the stairs,” Rooster interrupts. He knows he’s right but has no idea how he’s come to possess such information.
Starker finds Rooster’s face in the dark. “It leads to another staircase.”
“Then a hallway,” Snow says quietly.
“And there’s doors on both sides of the hallway,” Nauls adds.
Everyone looks to Landon. He rubs at his throat. “Oh I’m allowed to talk now?” He glares at Starker. “Just wanna make sure it’s OK with fucking Albert DeSalvo over here before I say anything.” Nauls aims the light at him, leaving no doubt that despite his bravado, even Landon is terrified by what’s happening. He finally nods reluctantly, fidgeting about tensely. “Yeah, I—I don’t know how I know it either, but behind the doors there’s a bunch of rooms.”
“Even if we’re right, end of the day it’s just an abandoned old farmhouse with scarecrows out front and some rooms where a cellar ought to be,” Snow says. “Why we all so scared?”
“There’s only one way to find out for sure.”
“Aw, fuck me running.” The beam of light begins to tremble as Nauls heads for the porch. “I want out right now, man, this is bullshit.”
Starker lifts the AK-47 higher on his hip, and with one short sidestep, blocks the doorway. “We’ve all been here before. We need to know why.”
“But what happened to the money?” Snow asks, his face a mask of barely contained terror.
“Maybe there never was any money,” Starker says. “Maybe there wasn’t even an armored car.”
“Tell that to Carbone,” Landon counters. “Fuckhead died robbing it.”
“Maybe that’s not how he died. Maybe that’s just what we remember. Maybe this is all some kind of sick game.”
Nauls looks at the floor. “Well I don’t wanna play no more.”
“Think about what he’s saying,” Rooster says. “Does anybody really remember anything before the job today?”
“Of course we know what happened today,” Landon says.
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