Jackpot

Chapter 25

Bronco was close enough to take both their heads off with his shotgun. Valentine braked the rental and waited. Without a word, Bronco marched over to the car, climbed into the backseat, and shoved the shotgun’s barrel into the seat behind Gerry’s back.

“Drive,” Bronco said.

As Valentine pulled out of the visitor’s parking lot, he glanced in his mirror, and saw policeman spilling out of the jail and frantically running around the grounds. No doubt Bronco had planned to drive away in one of their cars. If he had, the police would have had little problem finding out which car, and tracking him down. But since he was in Valentine’s rental, there was no way for the police to know where he’d gone. Bronco was home free, and Valentine saw him grinning in the mirror.

“Isn’t this wonderful,” Bronco said. “You came out here to stick me in prison, and you help me get out. There must be a name for that.”

“Irony,” Gerry said, staring straight ahead.

“There you go. That’s a fancy word, isn’t it?”

“Just to you,” Gerry said.

Bronco stuck his head between them. “He’s a smart one, isn’t he, Tony? Knows I won’t shoot him while we’re here in the city around all these people. Now, when we get out in the desert, that’s a different story.” To Gerry, he said, “You punch hard, kid.”

“I had a good teacher,” Gerry said.

“Your old man here?”

“That’s right.”

They came to an intersection. Bronco gave Valentine instructions to get out of town. Valentine drove with his eye in his mirror, hoping for a police cruiser to magically appear behind them. He saw Gerry staring at the road, and guessed his son was hoping for a similar miracle.

Ten miles outside of town, Bronco made Valentine pull down a side road, then after a mile take another road, this one made of crushed gravel. It led to a deserted auto graveyard, the rusted carcasses of vehicles piled high in the air, with families of crows nestled within the metal skeletons. Bronco told him to brake and the car came to a halt.

“Get out,” he said to Valentine. To Gerry, he said, “Take your father’s spot behind the wheel. Do it real slow.”

Valentine got out. Except for the graveyard, there was nothing but scrub brush and flat land, with no real place to hide. His mind was racing for an escape, only none were making themselves apparent. It made his soul ache to know that Bronco had outsmarted him, but no one had ever said life was perfect.

Bronco rolled down the back window, and poked the barrel of the shotgun out the window. The look in his face was stone cold evil.

Valentine looked up at the sky. It was a flawless blue, the sun a perfect hole within that blue. As he’d grown older, his fear of dying had ebbed. He’d been married to a great woman, raised a halfway decent son, and had his share of good times. He’d played by the rules, and had no regrets.

“You want to say anything to your son?” Bronco asked.

Valentine glanced over his shoulder. Gerry’s face was white. He mouthed the words I love you. and looked back up at the sky.

“Anything else?” Bronco asked.

Valentine shook his head. He wasn’t going to look at Bronco, and give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d won this fight. In the auto graveyard he spied a car bumper, and in its shiny reflection Bronco aiming the shotgun at his back.

He closed his eyes. His late wife appeared as if my magic. She was standing in a lush forest, holding her arms out, and looked as beautiful as the day they’d met. He imagined himself holding her in his arms and kissing her, and could not think of a more wonderful gift. As Bronco’s shotgun went off, he was actually smiling.