Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller (12 page)

Anthony was outside. The car's hood was open, but only slightly, and Jake was standing in front of the crack to hide it from the owner. Anthony was muttering to himself, trying to remember how to hotwire an engine.

"Let's see," he said. "It's a Ford, so the starter's going to be on the left…or the right. And the coil is probably this one at front. So here goes nothing…" He reached for the wires.

Inside, Alex had picked up a loaf of bread, and was moving toward the next aisle.

"Say, if you don't mind me asking," Eidson began, "where are your folks?"

Sarah was at a loss, but Alex quickly spun a lie. "We live a couple of miles up the Transit," he said. "The store where we live is closed, so we figured we'd walk up the road and see what we found."

Jake could bear the sight of Anthony's misguided car-theft attempts no longer. "Dammit!" he shouted. "How could you not know how to do this!?"

He forced Anthony out of the way. "The coil is at the back! You have to find where these red wires come from. The starter is at the left, but you're looking for the solenoid. Cross these two," he said, picking up the coil wire and running it to a wire on the starter. Instantly, the engine sputtered to life.

Inside, Eidson thought he heard his engine running. Alex could se him growing nervous and impatient, so he decided to play his trump card.

"We saw the chalk marking outside. Who got killed?" Sarah, meanwhile, looking out the window, saw Jake waving and making thumbs-up gestures. She tugged Alex's arm.

"Just a second!" Alex told her.

"Nobody got killed," Eidson said, remembering what the police had told him to say. They didn't want the public to get scared, so they didn't want their story out, and Eidson couldn't blame them. "A guy got punched and knocked out by some other crazy guy, and it was assault, so they wanted a crime scene."

Alex suspected that this guy wasn't giving him the whole story, but Sarah kept pulling him toward the door, so he had to leave before he could find out more. Immediately, he dropped the loaf of bread, and ran.

"Hey!" Eidson yelled, following them outside. Immediately, he saw, with a sickening feeling, that he had been right; his car was running, and the kids were getting inside. They must have hotwired it. Quickly, he ran back inside. How did they know how to do that?

When the first shouts came, it alarmed everyone except Alex, who calmly climbed into the passenger's seat beside Anthony.

"Alex!" Jake yelled. "He's chasing us!" Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been much to worry about—however, Eidson was carrying a knife.

"Let him!" Alex called, and there was definitely a streak of wild exhilaration in his voice. "Let's go! Be glad he's not using a gun—I've dodged so many bullets tonight, I'm sick of it."

All three of them looked at Alex oddly. There was something in his eyes, in his voice…it was as if he had suddenly transformed into an adventurer.

Anthony may not have been good at hotwiring a car, but he was good at driving one. The car swerved: right, left, right again, but Anthony got it under control faster than most would have. They escaped the parking lot soon enough, leaving the death site, Wayne Eidson, and his knife behind.

They held their breaths for a while after leaving, but soon relaxed again. The driving was a nice break. The movement of the car was something sure and slow, a good break from the hectic action of an hour ago.

"Do you think they've called off the search by now?" Jake asked.

"Possibly," Alex said. "I guess they think we can't get far. They might go in the morning. Also, they need to alert Canada about us."

"Why would they do that?" Sarah asked. "International police alerts for accessory to larceny?"

"I'm still wondering about that," Jake said.

"That's a fair point," Anthony said. They were all amazed at how relaxed he was behind the wheel. He appeared to be alright, an hour after his last cigarette, but Alex was sure he would break down, and then they would have to find somewhere to get some—a large waste of time. "We're probably safe. No point wasting the time, manpower…"

"Money," Alex cut in.

"Listen, Jake, I want to ask you something. How did you know how to hotwire the engine?"

Sarah looked very surprised at this. Even Alex (and this was a very rare occurrence) looked visibly unseated. "
You
did it?" he asked.

"I've, um…I've read some books." Jake, oddly enough, seemed both embarrassed and scared. Not scared in the way the boy is when he thinks there is a monster under his bed…but the way a man is when he has something to hide.

For a while they drove in silence.

Jake could drive too, it turned out. It being midnight, Sarah and Anthony were very tired. The time came when Anthony's eyelids began to drop, and they decided it wasn't safe for him to drive anymore. So they pulled over, and he got out, sat in the back, and immediately fell asleep. Jake took the wheel, and Sarah fell asleep after another half-hour.

Alex and Jake stayed up, possibly out of apprehension or fear, or possibly out of excitement. Alex, certainly, was very happy—for the first time since Niagara, he had made a plan that had worked.

"Why do you do things like this?" Jake asked suddenly.

Alex was caught off guard. "Huh?"

"Why do you act like you do to Sarah? To Anthony? Why do you see them like you do?"

"Because…" Alex hesitated. Obviously, what was about to come out of his mouth was something he didn't want to say. "Because…I'm scared."

"You're
what
?"

"I'm scared. Ever since we left Woodsbrook, I've been thinking—what have I gotten myself into? This plan…the food will be eaten here, we'll sleep here, spend money here…it's a way to know what's going to happen. If I know how everything is going to work, I'm not scared."

"Makes sense…but what's there to be so scared of?"

"I don't know," Alex said, sarcastically. "Starving? Dying of hypothermia? Getting
shot
? It's a fact we're all going to have to accept, and it's better if you learn it now. We are going to die."

"What? How can you say that?" Jake was getting scared himself. It was not like Alex to be so pessimistic. He could be sarcastic, cynical, at times annoying…but never pessimistic.

"Maybe not soon. One or two of us might make it to Manitoba. But we will die. One way or another."

"Why did you start this, then, if you were sure we were going to die?"

"Remember, at the beginning…it was just going to be me. I thought I could do it. In Woodsbrook, in the park, I tried to bail out. I'd realized, then, just for a moment. But the two of you wouldn't let me go."

"No, Alex!" Jake said. It came out more forcefully than he had intended. "Sarah and I were trying to give you a chance to be someone. You act like a cynic, you act like a skeptic, and you look down on people to shield yourself from yourself. If you just looked up for a moment, you'd realize who you are! You are our leader!"

"I don't know, Jake. I don't know," Alex said, quietly. "I'm too tired for this." He rolled on his side, and was asleep in seconds.

They lay there, hurtling into the night.

CHAPTER 9

Into Canada

For the next day, time seemed to have no meaning. They drove, and it would appear that they were flying at great speed, or that they had been in the same stretch of forest or mountain forever. Jake and Anthony took turns driving, Jake still refusing to divulge how he could. February wasn't tourist season, so the Transit was fairly deserted. Whenever a car did go by, those of them not driving hid, and whoever was driving would shoulder the task of making himself look older. They stopped for two meals, breakfast and lunch, and were served without incident—even if the Canadian police had been mobilized, there were no "wanted" posters up yet. In short, everything, for once, was going fine.

That all changed soon enough. The first trouble occurred about three miles after the place where they had eaten lunch. They had stopped in a town called Maple Crossing, and used the last of their money. Many of the shops this far south would accept US dollars, because of tourism, so they had no trouble as far as currency went. Alex had wanted to try and get some more money, but Sarah said she wouldn't let him. They argued for a while before Alex gave it up.

Once out of town, though, the car started to run more slowly. Anthony, who was driving, pushed the pedal harder, and eventually the car simply ceased to run.

"For crying out loud…" he said, slamming his fist on the dashboard.

"What happened?" Sarah asked.

"Engine problem, maybe? It could be due for an oil change," Jake volunteered.

"You morons," Alex said, shaking his head. "It's out of gas. How could you not notice that? Isn't there a fuel gauge?"

"Broken," Anthony said. "Is this pile of junk an Edsel or what? I've seen houses that handle better."

"Jesus," Alex sighed.

"So, what do we do?" Jake asked. "Do we need to go back to Maple Crossing?"

"Do we have any money?" Sarah inquired. "We're gonna need some for gas."

"Umm…" Alex began, checking the backpack. He looked at the pocket where the money was kept. It contained three cents, shining copper coins that seemed to be taunting him. "Yes," he lied. "We have about three or four dollars. I'll get a gallon can."

"Wait a minute," Jake cut in. "Is it safe for you to go alone?"

"Safer than there only being two of us with the car," Alex said. "I'll be right back."

He didn't have any specific plan in mind for how to get the gasoline. He would try conning, lying, the "starving children's charity". He had a few tricks up his sleeve.

The events at Transit Quality Fuel had put Alex off gas stations for a long while, but as it was, the station in Maple Crossing had something they needed. Alex had formulated a plan that he assumed would appeal to the station manager's good side.

Maple Crossing was a small town, possibly even smaller that Niagara. It had begun to snow sometime that morning, and the snowflakes were still persisting to float to earth from the grey skies. This had all the buildings in town blanketed in picturesque white snow. Walking down main street, Alex thought that this was a scene right out of the end of a movie. He imagined that a man would run along this street after a woman, and would tell her he'd always loved her. Then they would kiss, and the credits would roll.

Laughing mildly at this thought, he strolled into the gas station. On his way toward the pumps he glanced sideways at a convertible that seemed extremely flashy to be this far out of any city. Probably, someone had gotten themselves lost. In any case, it wasn't worth paying too much mind. He was glad for the snow—a few snowflakes on his jacket would evoke some sympathy.
It's the little touches,
he thought.

The conversation, however, went decidedly worse than he had expected.

The manager was standing by the pumps, talking to an attendant. Alex didn't get noticed right away; it was only when the manager ended his conversation and started away that he saw him. "Hey, kid, get outta my way. I got stuff to do."

"I need your help, sir," Alex said, trying to look younger than he was. "Does this station—"

"You're not supposed to be in here, you know."

"Sir,
please
. Would this station give me a gas can?"

The manager looked slightly irked at the last question. "Kid, you want a gas can, ask your daddy to pay for it."

"He can…we ran out of gas five miles from here. Please, if you give me a can of gas now, we can mail you a check. If you told me the address of this place…"

"Kid, I'd love to help you. I really would," he said, with an incredible lack of sincerity. "I'd give you a can, but if someone sees me handing out favors, they're gonna want it too. Pretty soon, people are getting free gas at all our stations, and central management cans my ass. I'm sorry."

"But we'd pay for it. I said—"

"Look, kid, I don't even know if your daddy's car ran out. He could just be sending you to swindle me. Why didn't he just come himself?"

Alex didn't know how to respond. He had not prepared the eventuality of the situation not going his way. He had been extremely confident—too confident, he supposed. He was pondering leaving when something quite unexpected occurred.

"Excuse me," someone called. The voice had a slight Hispanic tinge, not enough to be called an accent.

"Sorry, kid," the manager said, turning toward the source of the voice, "I've got paying customers to attend to."

"No, stay here, sir. I'm here to do this poor kid a favor."

The man was standing next to Alex now. He tried to put his hand on Alex's shoulder, but Alex moved away. There was something radiating from this man, some dark feeling that Alex did not like. Some may have called it a bad vibration. He was smiling, but his eyes held a cold, calculating look that this was not a man to be trusted…moreover, that this was a man to be feared.