"Gator A-GO-GO" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dorsey Tim)Chapter Twenty-TwoINTERSTATE 75 A Hertz Town Car sped south through the starry Georgia night. An exit for Robins Air Force Base went by. Raul opened a suitcase and passed out guns again. “Keep those things down,” said Guillermo, letting off the gas and watching the speedometer drop to the posted 70 limit. “What’s the matter?” asked Raul. Guillermo glanced in the rearview. “We got cops.” A Crown Vic with blackwall tires blew by in the left lane. Behind the wheel: “I just hope we’re not too late,” said Agent Ramirez. One hundred and fifty miles southwest, a ’73 Challenger sped through empty farmland. It picked up I- 10 in Tallahassee and headed east out of the Panhandle. “Breaker, breaker…” “ Serge brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth again and looked in the Challenger’s side mirror. “Coleman, you’re supposed to say, ‘That’s a big ten-four, Captain Florida.’” “ “That’s my handle,” said Serge. “ “How about ‘Lord of the Binge’?” “ The Challenger sped down open highway, followed by the station wagon and a Dodge pickup with Gator bumper stickers. They passed Live Oak, fifteen miles before the interchange with I-75, where a Crown Vic took the westbound ramp onto I-10. “Breaker, Lord of the Binge…” “ “Looks like we got us a convoy!” The three-vehicle motorcade continued east, seeing no other cars for miles. Then: “Breaker, breaker,” said Serge. “Smokey, eleven o’clock.” Everyone cut back their speed as a Crown Vic driven by Agent Ramirez flew in the opposite direction. “We’re clear,” said Serge. They sped on, approaching the I-75 cloverleaf, where a Hertz Town Car passed them going the other way toward Panama City Beach. SUNRISE “This is Maria Sanchez with Daybreak Eyewitness Action News Seven. I’m standing here on the crystal white sands of Panama City Beach as the sun peeks over the horizon and a number of college guests appreciating our wonderful community are up extra early to take in a morning stroll… Here comes one of them now… Sir, can you tell us what you’ve enjoyed most about your visit?” “I don’t know where my hotel is. And I’m really drunk…” Nearby, a packed Pontiac with Ohio plates arrived on the famous strip. Ritual beers popped. “ Like so many others, the students had just completed another marathon drive that began in the snow the previous morning. They crossed the Florida line two hours before dawn and hit city limits at first light. Another impulse trip. “Who needs reservations?” Budget motels lined the opposite side of the road from the beach. They stopped. Nothing available. Then the next. Full. The next. Sorry. And so on, until they reached the end of the strip. “We should have made reservations.” The Pontiac turned around and headed back, this time trying the more expensive hotels on the gulf side. Same story, again and again. Looked like they’d have to head inland and find something north of town. They passed the Alligator Arms. Red neon under the sign: NO V ACANCY. A passenger in the front seat turned around. “Did you see that?” “What?” asked the driver. “The ‘No’ on the ‘No Vacancy’ sign just went off.” “Maybe it burnt out.” “Can’t hurt to try.” They parked out of view from the office, so the rest of the students could hide. The manager looked up from his newspaper as the door opened. One of the kids pointed behind. “Saw the ‘no’ go out on the vacancy sign. Is that for real?” The manager nodded and came to the counter. “One room left. Some other kids decided to depart early.” “How much?” “How many staying in the room?” “Just us two.” “That means at least five.” “No, really.” “Hundred and seventy a night.” “What!” “You’re not going to find another place for fifty miles.” The students pulled back from the counter and talked it over. Then nods. “Okay, we’ll take it. Let me go out to the car and get some more money from the other three guys.” The sun rose over the hotel roof as five Ohio students rolled luggage from their car. Next to a newspaper box, someone sat on the curb with his chin in his hands. “What’s the matter?” asked one of the students. “No place to stay.” “Why don’t you stay with us?” “Really?” “Wait a second,” said a second youth. “Why are you inviting a complete stranger to stay with us?” “Because he’s the midget.” They took the elevator several floors up and headed down the landing toward room 543. SOMEWHERE IN NORTH FLORIDA Another beautiful morning. The ’73 Challenger barreled east on I-10 as a rising sun burnt off dew. Close behind, a woody station wagon and a Dodge pickup. They reached a junction in Jacksonville and headed south on 95. The occupants of the various vehicles had been redistributed, at Serge’s insistence, “to resurrect the lost art of conversation.” Serge sat behind the wheel of the Challenger. Melvin and Country had the backseat. Andy rode shotgun. In the middle car, half the New Hampshire students and Coleman: “Brownies are the best!” “I think smoking works better.” “Much academic debate,” said Coleman. “But for my money, ingesting ensures a more complete absorption of the tetrahydrocan-nabinol psychoactive component. Only trade-off is a forty-five-minute delay to kick in. I’ll show you when we get to Daytona.” Melvin’s roommate, Cody, drove the trailing pickup, with City and Joey filling out the rest of the tight front seat. Joey yawned and stretched out his arm in a furtive gambit to put it around City’s shoulders. “I’ll break it.” The arm came back. Serge reached over and playfully punched Andy in the shoulder. “Ain’t this the bee’s knees? You could have been stuck in the Panhandle, but now we get to travel back through spring break history! Look at that magnificent sky! This calls for coffee!” He grabbed a bottom-weighted travel mug off the dash. His other hand reached for his walkie-talkie. “Breaker, breaker. We got the big twenty-four lookin’ green all the way on the flip side.” “ “It’s a great fucking day!” He stretched an arm to Andy. “Coffee?” “No, thanks.” “Good, ’cause I want it all!” He sucked the mug dry, then turned his camcorder on and held it out the window. “There’s just something magical about setting out on the road at night and watching the sky gradually lighten until the sun arrives. Reminds me of childhood. We’d take trips to Cypress Gardens, Busch Gardens, Miami Seaquarium. For some reason, my folks found it essential to make good time and leave in pitch blackness. Our car was loaded the previous night, except for the cheap Styrofoam cooler. They started making ice days ahead and hoarded it in the freezer. Money wasn’t flying around like it is today, and people couldn’t justify buying bags of the stuff at 7-Eleven, which actually opened at seven and closed at eleven. Do we have any more coffee in here? Fuck it, I’ll just go: Mom made piles of bologna sandwiches ahead of time and stored them in Tupperware. America forgets its heritage, but back then Tupperware parties were hugely important tribal events, like Bar Mitzvahs for Gentiles. I want that on my tombstone: ‘There’s nothing’s more goy than Tupperware.’ Did I already ask about coffee? We owned an old Rambler, and I had the backseat to myself. Nobody thought about seat belts then, let alone child safety seats, and I sat on the floor behind Dad with my GI Joes and Tinkertoys. I once made a gallows from Tinkertoys and hung a GI Joe deserter, and my parents took me to a doctor. And on the other side of the drive-train hump, behind my mom’s seat, was the Styrofoam cooler of Total Joy. The back of the Rambler seemed so big then, and I was constantly moving around, as you probably guessed from my personality. Down on the floor, up on the seats doing somersaults. After a few trips, Dad wasn’t even distracted anymore by everything going on in the rearview mirror: little legs whipping by, flying GI Joes who’d stepped on land mines. But best of all-climbing up and lying on the ledge by the back window! Melvin? You can lie up on the ledge if you want. I can’t understate the experience.” “Don’t think I should.” “Why not? Coleman does it all the time.” “No, thanks.” “Anyway, childhood’s over.” Serge reached under his seat. “Now vacation means a whole new adult routine.” He popped the ammo clip from a chrome.45 and checked the chamber. “What’s the gun for?” asked Andy. “What do you think?” Serge replaced the magazine. “Florida.” |
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