How the Quick Run

Part 7

The next day, the three of them left in the car early in the morning. Two hours later, James and Mora returned with a few new articles of clothing, and some items from a nearby grocer, including a canister of loose leaf black tea.

In the kitchen, James got a kettle of water boiling, and set out two tea cups. Mora found a spatula and a frying pan, and warmed it up with a pat of butter from the refrigerator. Then she began cracking eggs into it. They had barely exchanged more than a few insignificant words with each other so far that morning, and an awkward silence hung in the air between them.

"I wouldn't be upset if you backed out," Mora said to James as he cut slices of bread at the counter next to her. "You can if you want."

"I made my choice. Can't go back. Not that I want to." He paused a moment, then said, "Everytime I see what Cook did..." He met her eyes briefly, and pointed at his own face to indicate her bruised one. "I really want to punch a hole in his skull."

Mora looked back down at the frying eggs as the whites started to lose their transparency. "It's not so bad," she said after a moment. "My feet hurt worse than my face."

He took the spatula out of her hand and pointed at the dining table with it. "Then sit."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but then said, "Thanks."

She sat down at the table and waited for him to finish cooking their breakfast. The silence returned. By the time James sat down, they both seemed to have returned to their thoughts and quiet unease. Without looking at each other, Mora ate a piece of toast and a fried egg in the time it took James to eat four fried egg sandwiches. Afterward, they changed into the clothes they had purchased earlier that morning. Separately, he swapped out his bloody jacket and shirt, and she put on a pair of high-waisted slacks and a blouse. Her cash-laden dress was folded and placed in a dresser in the master bedroom. She hesitated a moment, looking down at it, then closed the drawer.

Later that afternoon, Parker returned in an old delivery van and parked it out front behind the black car. They spent the rest of the day waiting. In between occasional pacing and smoking, James loaded and unloaded his guns. Parker sat at the dining table in the kitchen with a collection of half-finished diagrams for an indiscernible project. Mora switched on the radio for a short time, but then settled with a dusty book illustrating the history of firearms that had been sitting on top of the piano with some other similarly themed books. Once darkness had settled over the city, they each dozed here and there, but two hours before sunrise, they gathered in the living room again. Then the three of them started putting their plan into action.

The other inhabitants of the quiet street were unaware of the three figures loading into the van. Their movements were careful and hushed. Only when the van sputtered to life with a roar that echoed down the street did a suspicious neighbor peer out from behind her window curtain. She watched the van drive away, then gave the dark house across the street a suspicious glance before her face withdrew from the glass.

Driving through the city was effortless at the tail end of night. The traffic consisted mostly of delivery trucks. The van slid through the darkness, alone on nearly every street. When they came to the street where the gang's hangout was located, they drove by it once first. No cars were parked in front of the windowless building and the rest of the street was similarly lifeless. Parker drove around the block and parked the van next to the hangout. A single streetlamp a few buildings down cast a dim light over their surroundings. Parker got out first and stood next to the van for a moment, his breath visible in the autumn air. After glancing up and down the street, he opened up the side door, and James and Mora stepped out. Together they unwound a rubber hose connected to one of two tanks in the back of the van. While Parker kept watch, James began to spray the sidewalk in front of the hangout, letting some of the liquid hit the front door as well. A clear, watery puddle formed in the dip in front of the door. He signalled Mora, who switched the end of the hose to the other metal tank in the van. Then he sprayed the sidewalk in front of the neighboring buildings with the liquid from the second tank.