Aaron awoke with a start. He had slept hard and was cold and disoriented. He sat up and looked around then sighed heavily. He could see by the dim light of the lantern that he was back in his basement cell.
A sheet of plywood had been nailed up over the casement window, and though his instincts told him it was daylight outside, it was impossible to tell. He hauled himself up off the floor and used the coffee can to relieve himself. Then he sat on the milk crate, pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, and took a big drink of water.
His thoughts turned to the night before. He recalled seeing Tom hit by Souther's bullet, and how the dark, cold part of his soul had been comforted by it. He could see his mother's face as she huddled with him by the fire ladder. Her trembling hands. The frightened look in her eyes. He could hear the roar of the old Nova as it whisked her off into the night, and he wondered how she was, where she was, if he would ever see her again.
He held himself responsible for what had happened that night, and he knew he alone could fix it. He'd been backed against the wall multiple times in his life and had always been able to think of a way out. But this was different. His past trials paled in comparison. He had no clever plan this time. No magic beans. He was totally at a loss. He stared at the lantern's softly glowing mantles, feeling utterly helpless and alone.
– He jumped as someone unlocked the door at the top of the stairs. Johnny Souther entered and walked down the steps carrying a bag of last night's fast food leftovers. He sat down at the foot of the stairs.
"Good morning," he said, offering Aaron the food.
Aaron looked at the bag, then at his shoes. "I'm not hungry," he said, and Souther set the bag aside.
"Based upon last night's escapade," Souther said, "I'd say you're dying to get out of here."
That's the understatement of the century, Aaron thought.
"So, I thought you might like to go on a little field trip," Souther continued.
Souther's odd suggestion piqued Aaron's interest and he looked at him. "What do you mean, a field trip?"
"I have a problem, you see," Souther explained. "It takes at least three men to pull a bank job, and well, I'm a bit short handed at the moment."
Aaron paused. "I saw two men with you last night. Counting you, that's three."
"Observant," Souther said. "However, I have other business to attend to today and won't be available." He looked at his watch. "It's eight o'clock. You'll leave here in an hour."
"Why would I want to help you rob a bank?" Aaron said stupidly — he had forgotten for a moment the dire situation he was in.
Souther leaned forward and grabbed him by the jaw with a grip that might have torn off his face. "Listen, punk," he said, eyes flat. "If you think I don't know where your mother is… think again. I'm not asking you to help me, you little shit… I'm telling you, okay? So shut-the-hell-up and cooperate." He released Aaron's chin with a jerk, then turned and started up the stairs. "And if I were you," he added over his shoulder, "I wouldn't fuck it up."