Their car pulled back on the highway and started down the Tennessee side of the mountain toward Gatlinburg. Bob and Jill were in the front seat next to John who was driving. In the back, Randy sat close behind them with his knife drawn and alternately tickling their necks. Mike licked his lips, reached down for another can but found the bag empty.
“We ain’t got no beer.”
“Not now.” John clinched the steering wheel. “We’re almost to Pharaoh.”
Randy’s eyes darted from his brother to John. He hated Moses. John did not care about him and his brother. They did a lot of mean things for him, and he did not care if they wanted a beer or not. Randy did not really want more beer, but his brother did. Or maybe he did crave a beer. Beer helped him forget, and right now Randy wanted to forget how mad he was at Moses.
“I want a beer too.”
“I said no. Now be quiet. We’re entering Gatlinburg, and traffic makes me nervous.”
Pulling his legs up into his chest, Randy looked out the window as the car pulled through a green light, out of the park’s darkness and into the brightness of the tourist town’s busy main street, lined with shops, restaurants and hotels. He saw people on the street, laughing and having fun. He saw fathers holding their sons’ hands. No one ever held his hand, laughed or had fun with him, which made Randy even madder.
“Stop for beer, or I’ll cut her.” Randy grabbed Jill around her neck and flashed his knife across her face, causing her to gasp.
“Don’t be foolish,” John said in contempt.
“Yeah,” Mike added. “If he kills her, you won’t know how to get to Pharaoh, and you wouldn’t like that, would you, Moses?”
“Very well.” Looking for a convenience store, he spotted one on the left side of the street. Several minutes passed before traffic cleared so he could turn into a well-lit parking lot. Mike and Randy opened the door. “How are you going to pay for it?”
“What?” Mike looked back at John with a quizzical smile.
“With this,” Randy said, pumping his knife into the air.
“There are at least twenty people in that store. Were you planning to kill them all? Do you think all twenty would stand by and let you rob the store? Don’t you think someone would call police and give them your descriptions and the license number from this car?”
Randy stared at him, not understanding all John’s words which made him hate him even more.
“The Joshua and Caleb of old would have never made such stupid blunders,” John said with a sneer.
“Stop calling us those stupid names,” Randy muttered as he put his knife away. He did not like to be called stupid, even though deep in his heart he knew he was stupid, or else his mother would have never left him alone on the side of a road.
“Just give us money,” Mike said with cheer.
“I don’t have any money,” John replied.
Randy’s eyes darted to Bob. This man had money and was too much of a coward to fight back. He grabbed Bob’s hair, pulling his head back with all his strength. Jill suppressed a cry.
“You got money.”
“Give him your wallet, Bob,” Jill said.
“Yeah.” Randy yanked his hair again. “Do what she says or I’ll cut you bad.”
Reaching down to his pocket, Bob pulled out his wallet and held it up. Mike grabbed it and lunged from the car.
“Great. Now we can get some beer,” he said.
“Scaredy cat.” Randy threw Bob’s head forward. “Don’t move.” He brandished the knife in his face. “If you and her try to run I’ll cut your guts out. I don’t care how many people are standing around.”
***
After Randy left, Bob looked over at John who was staring out of his window. Harold failed to convince him to stop his mission, but Bob felt he had to make an effort or else they too would be murdered. He cleared his throat.
“Dr. Lippincott told me about their drinking problem.”
“That doesn’t concern you,” John said.
“He said once they start drinking they’re dangerous.”
“All the more reason for you and your wife to cooperate.”
“They’ll be dangerous for you too.” Bob paused. “It’s obvious you already don’t have power over them. They killed Dr. Lippincott when you wanted him alive. They’ve forced you to stop for beer when you wanted to keep driving. Don’t you think it’s time to end all this? Let’s stop at the police station, and then we’ll be safe. We pass right by it on our way to Jill’s grandparents’ house. You’ll be safe too. You’ll be safe from the boys.”
“I can control them.”
“Are you sure?” Jill asked.
“You, of all people, should do everything in your power to make sure I can control them.” He looked at her with an ominous glare.
Soon Mike and Randy were back in the car, giggling and slurping down cans of beer. After John pulled onto the street he glanced at Jill.
“Now where is Pharaoh?”
“He lives in the arts and crafts community on the other side of Gatlinburg, on the road to Cosby,” she replied.
Bob looked out his window at the contented vacationers with small sleepy children on their shoulders. They clung to stuffed black bears, wooden rifles and cones of cotton candy. Bob observed that as they waited at a red light he could call out to passersby if he rolled down his window.
“Don’t try to involve those people out there.”
Bob jumped, a bit startled that John in fact had read his mind, and turned towards him.
“Remember, Caleb has a knife and will use it on your wife at my command.”
“My name’s Randy.” He slid down in the seat to drink his beer.
“Yeah, Randy, Randy, candy, dandy, Randy, Randy,” Mike said.
“Shut up!” He jabbed his brother with his bony elbow.
“That hurt.” Mike turned toward a window and swallowed. “That girl there, walking down the street, she’s pretty.”
The passengers remained silent for the rest of the car’s stop-and-go trip through lit downtown. At last, the car picked up speed onto a darker stretch of highway.
“Turn left at the stop light near the supermarket,” Jill said in a blank tone.
“Thank you.”
An even dimmer street emerged. Old homes converted into antique and craft shops were shuttered because they closed earlier than the downtown T-shirt and souvenir stores. A startling exception was the multicolored lights on the rotating waterwheel on the side of the Schmidt house.
“That’s it,” Jill said.