Out of Sight

They were moving as she heard Foley say, "Shit," and saw the trunk lid coming down on her as she fired the.38 pointblank, fired again and fired again through the trunk lid slamming shut, locking her in with the deafening sound, again in the close dark.

They had moved so fast in opposite directions she didn't think she'd hit either one. She listened, but didn't hear a sound now, pretty sure they were getting her shotgun from the car and would be right back.

Six UDDY SAID HE forgot she had a piece in there-all that was going on-even saw her throw it back in the trunk when she brought out the shotgun. He said to Foley they may as well leave her, they were leaving the car and had to leave her someplace anyway, what was the difference where?

It was already set in Foley's mind she was going with them.

He wasn't finished talking to her. He wanted to sit down with her in a nice place and talk like regular people. Start over, let her get a look at him cleaned up. Even if he had time he wouldn't be able to explain why he wanted to talk to her some more, that wasn't clear in his mind, so all he said was, "She's going with us."

Buddy gave him a funny look, a frown. He said, "Jesus Christ, what were you doing in there? I can understand you need to get laid, but you have Adele, don't you?"

"Get the shotgun," Foley said, "and her purse. I'd like to know who she is."

"I already looked," Buddy said.

"Her name's Karen Sisco, like the Cisco Kid only spelled different, S-i-s-c-o."

Foley said, "Karen Sisco," nodding a couple of times.

I wonder if she's ever called that, the Sisco Kid."

Headlights would come at them from the direction of West Palm and they'd keep to the narrow space between the car and the concrete abutment of the overpass. A sheriff's office green and-white went screaming past, gum balls flashing, then another one and another, a string of green-and-whites in the space of a minute, going out to chase after escaped convicts.

No time for a car sitting dark under an overpass.

When the road quieted down Foley stepped up to the Chevy's trunk, keeping to the side of it, and banged on the sheet metal once with his fist.

"Karen? Be a good girl now, you hear? I'm gonna let you out."

Foley jumped at the sound of a pistol shot, muffled from inside the trunk but real, the bullet ripping through metal.

He yelled at her, "You're putting holes in your car!" and looked up to see Buddy, with the shotgun and a black leather handbag, staring at him.

Foley took a moment to settle down before saving, "We're not leaving you. I'm gonna open the trunk enough for you to throw the gun out.

Okay? You shoot-Buddy's got your shotgun, he says he'll shoot back if you do and I can't stop him.

So it's up to you." Foley put his hand out and Buddy, still looking at him funny, gave him the keys.

They heard a voice yell "Hey!" Not from the trunk, a clear sound coming from somewhere above them.

"It's me, Glenn."

Foley stepped out in the open, Buddy close behind. They looked up to see a figure, head and shoulders against the evening sky, leaning on the concrete overpass rail.

"Hey, Jack, good to see you, man. The fuck're you guys shooting at?"

Buddy raised his voice saying, "We'll be there in a minute."

"I don't mean to complain," Glenn said, "but you know how long I've been here? Florida Highway Patrol comes by I'm fucked."

Foley looked at Buddy.

"Do we need him?"

"Three green-and-whites saw us," Buddy said.

"One of 'em starts thinking, What's that car doing there? Ties it to the break and turns around… We got to get out of here."

Foley, looking up at the overpass again, said, "Hey, Studs?" sounding surprised.

"We thought you were somebody else."

Glenn straightened, tossing his hair out of his face.

"Man, I haven't heard that since Lompoc."

Foley waited.

Glenn said, "You guys…" shaking his head now.

"I'm risking my ass for you and I don't even know why."

"Sure you do," Foley said, making the effort to sound pleasant.

"We're your heroes."

He walked back to the Chevy and banged on the trunk.

"You coming out?"

Foley stuck the key in the lock, standing right in front of the trunk, and turned to Buddy. Buddy walked up to the trunk and racked the pump on the shotgun. Foley said, close to the sheet metal, "You hear that?"

He turned the key and raised the trunk lid.

Karen, hunched in there, extended her arm, her hand holding the Sig Sauer auto by the barrel. She said, "You win, Jack."

Buddy gave him another funny look.

If he leaned out over the rail Glenn could see part of the open trunk, Foley reaching a hand in to help someone get out.

Jesus, a girl. Standing by the car now smoothing her skirt, touching her hair. Guy busts out of stir and picks up a girl?

Now they were crossing the ditch into weeds and some bushes; he wouldn't see them again until they came up the grade. Or, she worked at the prison and Foley grabbed her, used her as a shield going out.