SUPERWORLD

Marco VIII

The alarm woke Marco at exactly Nine PM. He couldn't remember dreaming, but the tears on his face indicated that he had. He wiped his eyes and shut off the alarm, then swung his legs off the bed and pushed through the fog that clouded his mind to stand.

Those pills are somethin' else.

Marco had gone down to the store early that morning and purchased everything they would need to execute their plan: knives, a tool kit, binoculars, gloves, a pair of hiking boots for himself, and the sleeping pills necessary to make them sleep during the day so they could work at night. Marco had wanted to buy them masks, thinking of how The Kenosha Kid and Samaritan had protected their identities, but only found bandanas.

Clay chose the black one, and Marco chose a red one, they tied them around their faces, like the train robbers of the Old West, and both boys smiled beneath the cloth.

We'd be up a creek if Dallas hadn't carried so much cash on him.

Clayton had explained that Dallas didn't trust banks, as they were all 'run by the coastal elite'. Marco didn't care, he was just happy he could eat. He put on the hiking boots and donned a zip up hoodie that he also got from the store. Clay had slept through the alarm and so Marco shook him awake.

"Ugh, hmph? Go'on, git..." Clay sleepily protested.

So, Marco yanked off the covers and threw them to the ground before turning on the light. "What in the Sam hell...? Damn, time already?"

"Yeah."

"Cain't even get five more minutes?"

"Nope." Marco said.

Clay sighed and rolled over off the bed, then dragged himself to his feet before hopping around on one foot trying to pull his boot on.

"Real quick, we only got one gun. Betsy'll take off a head no problem, but she only got five shots before I gotta load back up and them boys got M-16's with fifty-round mags. How you gon' cover me?" Clay asked, falling on his ass but getting his boot on.

"Well, the idea is not to have to use the gun. We sneak in, no guards see us, we find Dallas, and get the heck outta Dodge."

"And if that don't work?"

"Then maybe I can toss some'uh them exploding ball things like against The Man in Black and we get back to the car and haul ass."

"I ain't never bet my life on no 'maybe'!" Clay scoffed, looking at Marco like he was crazy.

But the older boy just shrugged.

"Only other option is tah hide for the rest of our lives." And that brought a look of defeated compliance to the younger boy's face. He finished buttoning up his flannel and grabbed his bag and shotgun.

"Then let's hit that dusty trail." Clayton grimaced.

Marco thought it best to check out of the hotel before leaving, if they got Dallas or didn't, they wouldn't be able to stay in West Virginia anymore. A woman at the store had given Marco a look of fearful recognition at the store.

Can't stop moving when you're running from the law.

On their way out of the front desk area after checking out, Marco grabbed two cups of complimentary coffee and went back to the car. In the parking lot, Clay was playing with a fearsome-looking, obviously stray, pitbull.

"Easy boy," Clay laughed, as the dog playfully bit at his arm, "settle down now, I gotta go. Here, fetch!" And Clay threw a piece of jerky from his pocket to the other side of the parking lot. The dog quickly chased after it, barking madly in pursuit of meat. "What's this?" Clay asked, taking the cup from Marco.