We Ate the Road Like Vultures by Lynnette Lounsbury Read Free Book Online Page B

tray—much smaller and more compact with a huge magazine clipped into the bottom of it. Adolf had the grace to appear concerned. He said something in Spanish and gestured that they could let us out there—there at that dry, empty piece of sand, as if it was exactly where we were going. They laughed heartily and one even slapped Adolf’s shoulder. The truck didn’t slow and we drove right on into the town and, in one of those moments where you imagine the worst and watch it playing out in front of you, the truck pulled up slowly in front of the Bank of Mexico and the two guys leapt over the sides and ran inside. Thinking this had to be our chance to escape, I began to hoist myself over the side only to be catapulted back in by theforce of the truck racing onwards around the block. They did not intend to wait out front like the criminals in my mind, but rather drive around for a few minutes and then pick up the loot. Adolf had our bags at hand and was squatting beside me trying to figure the best spot to leap out, and how slow the truck had to be going before we could jump without breaking our necks.
    The people of the small town were now watching the truck go by, having rarely seen such a new vehicle and quite possibly recognising the bandits from some sort of wanted poster. Or they might have simply been amused by the stupid white people trying to leap from the back. We were too slow, too indecisive and too fucking scared, cos it was a matter of about a minute before we drove past the bank again and heard shots and whoops and screams, and the guitarist and his friends came flying back into the truck with the traditional bags of cash and coins. I was so surprised by all this that I didn’t even crouch down for any sort of protection, but Adolf had his wits about him and pulled my head to the bottom of the tray so that when the bank security guardcame out firing a pistol, and the bullets slammed into the side of the truck with a zing, I was at least partially protected. We roared off and sprayed dust at the townspeople who were not surprised at it all, but several of whom cussed and gave the finger to the truck as we went by. I had a terrible feeling they weren’t going to stop at the church to let us off after all, and this was confirmed as we flew past it, the cross blurring and causing a rare frown to appear on Adolf’s face. He banged on the cab window and was greeted by the driver firing his gun rapidly into the air, a gesture that seemed like it might have been meant to be cheeky and funny but was actually scary for regular Joes who were only used to cattle stampedes and racist protests.
    Chickens scattered as we rounded the market and I hoped we would have to slow enough at some point to be able to get out, cos by this time I was ready to leave Adolf if he didn’t follow me. I’d had enough of the crazy grins and cocked guns of the men in the back with me.
    The truck was gaining speed every second and I knew we were done trying to escape, we wouldhave to ride it out until they stopped, and hope they didn’t kill us or rape us or worse, and then run like hell. I settled back against the side of the truck and glanced at Adolf who reached down and held my hand. I imagine it was supposed to make me feel better or safer, but even amidst a bank robbery I was still girl enough to get all hot and bothered, and then my hand sweated and in the end I pulled it away on the pretence of looking behind us for help of some kind. I admit I didn’t expect any so when I saw another truck bearing down on us I had a moment of hope followed by a moment of fear that extended into terror. It was the police. I had already seen the Mexican police at work on a town a few days back. Some guy was in the market and they came in, guns literally blazing, hunting him. Maybe he was a notorious paedophile or perhaps he had tried to assassinate the president, but I doubted he had done anything to deserve the