Ann had hidden the money next to the seven buried sailors.
According to town lore, a father and son had gone out clamming at low tide when they found the bodies of the sailors washed up on Traitor’s shore. The dispute over their origin was never resolved but it was agreed that the men were not American, that their remains would not last long. A group of townsfolk loaded them onto a horse-drawn cart and began the task of laying the bodies to rest in a strip of scrub woods near the beach. Hacking out the shallow graves among thick cables of roots and stubborn rock had been time consuming, and as night fell some of the volunteers did shifts guarding the corpses from scavengers. When the last sailor was finally buried, a small ceremony was conducted by a priest who’d ridden in from Buoy City. Afterwards, local children were invited to plant a sapling above each mound, and over a hundred years later the trees had grown into a cathedral of wind-contorted pine.
He found the money where Ann had told him, between the sixth and seventh sailor. When he first tried to pull it from the hole the wet mud had held it possessively. The white leather felt gummy and came off in his hands like an old skin. As soon as he freed the bag from its miserable grave, he dropped it onto dry ground and moved back, reminding himself to breathe. His mind had begun playing tricks on him and for a brief moment he’d imagined the bag was a shrunken torso. When he finally got the courage to see what was inside he found a garbage bag stuffed with bricks of money, many with rubber bands that had almost rotted away.
James was overcome with joy and began to tremble uncontrollably. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to thank someone but didn’t know who, so he thanked whoever it was that had crushed Duane’s skull in prison because he knew he wouldn’t be holding fat stacks of money in his hands if Duane was still around to do something about it. Sure, it hadn’t been a cakewalk even with Duane out of the way but that was just the sort of luck James was accustomed to. Nothing good ever happened in his life without something coming along to fuck it up.
He transferred the money into a suitcase he’d stolen from the dentist’s house, stood up and tossed the leather bag out into undergrowth. He wanted to shout, even if only to the ghosts of sailors watching him from the dark grove of trees. But he thought better of it.
Remember, you’re only halfway down the mountain now. The rest is going to take everything you’ve got…
He closed his eyes and thought ahead to some nameless motel in Twin Falls Idaho, set back from the dusty interstate. A place far enough away that he could enjoy the luxury of sleep, if sleep would ever come again. He’d studied a map and decided it would be the farthest he’d have to run before he could stop worrying for awhile. Twin Falls. Would he be able to hear them from his bed? Would they drown out the sounds of someone coming? Not now. Don’t think about it yet. This is the time you must run. Nothing else matters now.
While he packed the suitcase in the trunk he heard the moan of the buoy coming from the mouth of the jetty. It made him think about Ann. He could see her as he’d left her on the rock-a dark haired, drugged siren. He recalled a dream she’d once told him about when they were young, a dream about being out on a rock, of losing herself while wandering through rooms full of fascinating objects, of not realizing that the tide had come in and stranded her out at sea. How ironic, he thought. He didn’t know what that word meant exactly, but decided it might be something Ann would understand.
He sat in the Skylark and smoked. Being in the old car relaxed him and that was good because he was going to need to keep his cool for the next few days while he made his escape. He wondered what kind of effect the car had on the dentist, what he got out of it. Did he sometimes wear his old letterman’s jacket when he drove? James smiled. He’d be sad when it came time to dump her. A car like this would just draw to much attention anyway. She’s going to turn heads wherever she goes.
He heard the buoy again and this time it sounded more insistent, like a woman’s muffled scream. I’m officially losing it, he thought. She’s going to be okay. As soon as you’re out of town you’re going to make an anonymous 911 call and tell them she’s on the rock. And then you’re going to forgot you ever had a life here.
Cold sweat trickled down his back and he shivered. He reminded himself that there was money in the trunk and a new life waiting for him. If he didn’t take it now he might as well curl up next to some dead sailors and stop bitching about his messed up life.
He thought he saw a flash of light on the trees, and when he glanced in the rearview mirror he saw headlights coming up the road.