What? I thought. Judge? Then she said it again, and a horrible chill went through me . . .Judge? No. That would be over the line. Unacceptable.
He lunged over the seat and whacked their heads together. “Shut up!” he screamed. “Where are your fucking manners?”
He went over the seat again. He grabbed one of them by the hair. “God damn you,” he screamed. “Don’t embarrass this man. He saved our lives. We owe him respect—not this goddamned squalling around like whores.”
A shudder ran through me, but I gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead, ignoring this sudden horrible freak show in my car. I lit a cigarette, but I was not calm. Sounds of sobbing and the ripping of cloth came from the backseat. The man they called Judge had straightened himself out and was now resting easily in the front seat, letting out long breaths of air ... The silence was terrifying: I quickly turned up the music. It was Los Lobos again—something about “One Time One Night in America,” a profoundly morbid tune about Death and Disappointment:
A lady dressed in white
With the man she loved
Standing along the side of their pickup truck
A shot rang out in the night
Just when everything seemed right
Right. A shot. A shot rang out in the night. Just another headline written down in America ... Yes. There was a loaded .454 Magnum revolver in a clearly marked oak box on the front seat, about halfway between me and the Judge. He could grab it in a split second and blow my head off.
“Good work, Boss,” he said suddenly. “I owe you a big one for this. I was done for, if you hadn’t come along.” He chuckled. “Sure as hell, Boss, sure as hell. I was Dead Meat—killed a lot worse than what happened to those goddamn stupid sheep!”
Jesus! I thought. Get ready to hit the brake. This man is a Judge on the lam with two hookers. He has no choice but to kill me, and those floozies in the backseat, too. We were the only witnesses . . .
This eerie perspective made me uneasy ... Fuck this, I thought. These people are going to get me locked up. I’d be better off just pulling over right here and killing all three of them. Bang! Bang! Bang! Terminate the scum.
“How far is town?” the Judge asked.
I jumped, and the car veered again. “Town?” I said. “What town?” My arms were rigid and my voice was strange and reedy.
He whacked me on the knee and laughed. “Calm down, Boss,” he said. “I have everything under control. We’re almost home.” He pointed into the rain, where I was beginning to see the dim lights of what I knew to be Elko.
“Okay,” he snapped. “Take a left, straight ahead.” He pointed again, and I slipped the car into low. There was a red and blue neon sign glowing about a half mile ahead of us, barely visible in the storm. The only words I could make out were “No” and “Vacancy.”
“Slow down!” the Judge screamed. “This is it! Turn! Goddamn it, turn!” His voice had the sound of a whip cracking. I recognized the tone and did as he said, curling into the mouth of the curve with all four wheels locked and the big engine snarling wildly in Compound Low and blue flames coming out of the tailpipe ... It was one of those long perfect moments in the human driving experience that makes everybody quiet.
We were sliding sideways very fast and utterly out of control and coming up on a white steel guardrail at seventy miles an hour in a thunderstorm on a deserted highway in the middle of the night.
Why not? On some nights Fate will pick you up like a chicken and slam you around on the walls until your body feels like a beanbag . . . Boom! Blood! Death! So Long, Bubba—You knew it would End like this . . .
We stabilized and shot down the loop. The Judge seemed oddly calm as he pointed again. “This is it,” he said. “This is my place. I keep a few suites here.” He nodded eagerly. “We’re finally safe, Boss. We can do anything we want in this place.”
The sign at the gate said:
Endicott’s Motel
Deluxe Suites and Waterbeds
Adults Only/No Animals
Thank God, I thought. It was almost too good to be true. A place to dump these bastards. They were quiet now, but not for long. And I knew I couldn’t handle it when these women woke up.
The Endicott was a string of cheap-looking bungalows, laid out in a horseshoe pattern around a rutted gravel driveway. There were cars parked in front of most of the units, but the slots in front of the brightly lit places at the darker end of the horseshoe were empty.
“Okay,” said the Judge. “We’ll drop the ladies down there at our suite, then I’ll get you checked in.” He nodded. “We both need some sleep, Boss—or at least rest, if you know what I mean. Shit, it’s been a long night.”