Endless Night Part 55

The next sound you hear, folks, will be my mouth.

Not my voice, my mouth. If you get my drift.

Mmmmm.

"AAAAH! f.u.c.k! OW! GIMME THAT, YOU FU ...!"

Part Nine.

Gunplay.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

"What if the car breaks down?" Andy asked.

Good question, Jody thought. They'd left the highway about ten minutes earlier, and now they were on a dusty road surrounded by miles of wasteland. "I suppose we'll all die," she said.

"The car isn't going to break down," Dad a.s.sured them. "And if it does, we'll just send Officer Miles running off to fetch a rescue party."

"That's right," Sharon said. "I'll trot east till I hit Blythe."

"How far's that?" Andy asked, his nose wrinkled.

"Not more than about forty miles," Dad said, then added, "as the vulture flies."

"Very funny," Jody said.

"We want to go shooting, don't we?" he asked. "Well, this is how it's done."

"I know, I know. But it's gonna be hot out there. We're gonna cook."

"It'll be a blast," Sharon said.

Jody leaned forward and jabbed her fist through the s.p.a.ce between the seatbacks. Her fist connected with Sharon's upper arm, but not very hard.

"Hey!"

"Pun punch," Jody informed her.

"What?"

"It's an old family tradition," she explained. "If you come out with a really horrendous pun, you get a pun punishment punch. Which you just got."

Sharon rubbed her arm. "Somebody should've warned me."

"Sorry," Dad said. "I'd forgotten all about it. It's actually a custom more honored in the breach than the observance."

"I'll be sure to honor it from now on." She grinned over her shoulder at Jody. "Better watch out."

"Oooo, I'm trembling."

Sharon laughed.

"Girls, girls," Dad said. "Can't we all just get along?"

That got Sharon laughing even harder. Dad's right hand let go of the steering wheel. It crossed the s.p.a.ce between seats-down low, maybe so that Jody wouldn't notice. But she did notice. She saw him grab Sharon's side just above the hip. The same place where he sometimes targeted Jody for a round of tickles.

Sharon, squealing, used her elbow to force his hand away.

The same way I do.

Andy gave Jody a look.

"Touch me," she said, "and I'll cut your hand off."

He seemed to take that as an invitation or a challenge. Chuckling, he turned and reached for her. She was ready for the attempt. Surprised, though. She'd expected him to go for a side tickle or a thigh squeeze. Instead, his hand made straight for her right breast.

She stopped his hand an inch from its goal. Caught it by the thumb.

Andy yelped as she forced his thumb backward. "I give," he gasped. "I give, I give."

"Do I look like someone who cares?"

"Ow!"

Keeping her grip on the thumb, she drove his hand down against his leg. He made sounds that were half-laugh, half-whine.

"You gonna behave?" she asked.

"Yes!"

Dad looked back at them.

"Just taking care of business," she told him.

"Is she hurting you, Andy?"

"No. Ow!"

Sharon twisted around in her seat to see what was happening.

"Don't hurt him," Dad said.

"I'm not."

"Ow!"

"It's a good hurt," Sharon said.

She and Dad both cracked up. Jody wasn't sure why. Andy looked perplexed, but his confusion became relief when Jody let go of his thumb.

"Thanks a heap," he muttered. He gazed down at his thumb and made circles with it as if warming up for a hitchhiking contest. "Guess you didn't bust it for me," he said.

Jody almost gave him a pun punch for that, but decided against it. For one thing, she doubted that Andy was aware of his double-meaning. For another, drawing attention to a "bust" pun would alert Dad that b.r.e.a.s.t.s were somehow involved in the backseat shenanigans. Not a good idea. Besides, she'd already inflicted a good dose of punishment on Andy; anymore, and it might stop being fun for both of them.

In the front seats, Dad and Sharon had almost stopped laughing. They were smiling at each other, shaking their heads and taking deep breaths.

Jody noticed that the car had stopped, but she wasn't sure how long it had been that way.

"Are we here?" she asked.

"I just stopped because of all the ..."

"This doesn't look bad," Sharon broke in. "No structures in sight. No other vehicles, either. And we can use that knoll out there as a backstop."

"Yep," Dad said. "Looks just fine."

Andy quit wiggling his thumb, and raised his head. "Does this mean we have to get out?"

Dad shut off the engine. The air conditioner died with it.

"Fresh air!" Sharon blurted, and threw her door open.

Hot air gushed into the car.

Jody moaned, "Oh my Gawd." This was worse than she'd expected.

She waited for Andy to climb out, then got down on her knees and reached under the front pa.s.senger seat. She found her Smith & Wesson .22, its extra magazine, and the box of ammo. While she was getting up, Dad opened her door. He took out the Mossberg and Sharon's rifle case.

On the seat, Jody made sure her pistol's safety was still engaged. Then she s.h.i.+fted everything into her left hand and scooted sideways. Just before stepping out of the car, she used her empty right hand to give the bill of her cap a tug. The bill had been tilted high, but now she wanted it low enough to s.h.i.+eld her face from the glaring sunlight.

She hadn't worn the cap to breakfast at Kactus Kate*s, but she'd been wearing it ever since they'd checked out of the motel. She'd even worn it into the various stores they'd visited before leaving Indio, stores where they'd bought new clothes for Andy, snacks and sodas for everyone, and supplies for the target shooting. Dad normally would've made her take the cap off when they went into the stores. "You aren't supposed to wear your hat indoors," he always said. "Not unless it's a cowboy hat." He hadn't said that today, though. Jody'd known he wouldn't, known she could get away with wearing the cap, and had gotten a kick out of taunting him with it. He just couldn't complain. Because throughout all the shopping, a black and gold NRA cap had been perched on top of Sharon's head.

When Jody stepped out of the car, the sun pressed down on her. She could feel the weight of its heat on her shoulders.

"Is your safety on?" Dad asked.

She swiveled her eyes upward. "Yes, of course."

She followed him to the trunk. He opened it, reached in and lifted out the gun shop bag. The bag looked ready to split from the weight of so much ammunition.

"I'll set up the cans," Sharon said. She went striding off, a sack of empty cans swinging by her side. Jody supposed there must be at least a dozen cans. In addition to the empties from last night's party-collected from the motel room wastebasket-they also had the cans from the sodas they'd drunk in the parking lot of the gun shop just before leaving Indio.

Dad and Andy both turned their heads to watch Sharon.

"Jeez, guys," Jody said.

"Just wanta make sure she places the targets at the correct distances," Dad explained.

"Oh, sure."

As if to prove his sincerity, he called, "Right there'd be good for a few."

Sharon smiled over her shoulder, nodded, and took out a can. She squatted to place it on the ground. Jody supposed the guys were hoping she would bend over and give them a good view of the seat of her shorts. The way she squatted, though, her s.h.i.+rt tail covered it.

Dad stopped watching. He shut the trunk. Andy helped him spread the blanket over the trunk lid. When it was in place, Jody put her pistol on it. Then Dad set out the boxes of ammo. Four boxes, fifty rounds each, of 9 mm cartridges for his and Sharon's pistols. A single large box that contained several smaller boxes-a total of five hundred .22 caliber bullets for Jody's pistol. Five long flat boxes, wrapped in cellophane, containing twenty rounds each of .223 cartridges for Sharon's rifle. And two boxes, twenty-five per box, of 12-gauge shotgun sh.e.l.ls with No. 000 buckshot.

"All we need now is a war," Jody said.

"Are we really gonna shoot all this?" Andy asked.

"Not even close," Dad said. "We don't want to be out here in this heat for more than an hour."

"Then why'd you buy so much?"

"Good question," Jody said. She already knew the answer.

"You just can't have too much ammo," Dad explained. "It's like money."

"It's the old storm trooper mentality rearing its ugly head," Jody said.

Dad laughed, then gave her rump a swat.

They all turned around. Sharon was about fifty yards out, setting up the last few cans.

Dad picked up his stubby black shotgun. "Put one on your head!" he yelled.

As Jody muttered, "Jeez, Dad," Sharon turned to face them and carefully set a can on top of her NRA cap. She threw a hip sideways. Weight on one leg, she bent the knee of the other. She raised both arms, palms turned up.

Like she's the sidekick for a carnival performer, Jody thought-the gal about to get knives thrown at her or hold a cigar in her mouth for the bullwhip man. All she needs is a skimpy costume that glitters.

"He isn't really gonna do it, is he?" Andy asked Jody.

"Sure I am," Dad said.

"What're you waiting for?" Sharon called.

Dad licked the tip of his forefinger and stuck it into the air, pretending to test wind direction.

"Boy," Jody said. "You two sure are setting a great example for Andy."