Last Stop This Town (23 page)

Dylan took another shot to the stomach and fell to the floor.

Walker stepped in front of Genevieve to protect her.

Sarah and Noah helped Dylan up off the floor.

Then…

Blam!

A gunshot rang out.

It was Anthony with a gun.

T
HE REACTION WAS
immediate.

Chaos.

A thousand party-goers began to flee the warehouse, screaming and shouting. The football team and the three brothers were swept up in the sea of people and Anthony was separated from the guys.

“You’re dead, motherfucker!” he shouted after them.

“Run!” Noah yelled, succinct if a bit obvious. The guys ran along with the rest of the crowd toward the front exit.

Outside, kids were scrambling everywhere. The guys ran down the street to the Cube, Walker holding Genevieve’s hand, and Pike, Noah, and Sarah helping Dylan. Even Chuck took cover with the guys, for lack of anywhere else to run to.

They reached the Cube and Dylan pulled out the keys. “I don’t think I can drive,” he moaned, still holding his stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Noah reassured him. “I got this.” Noah helped Dylan to the passenger seat, grabbed the keys, and jumped in the driver’s seat.

“In! In! In!” Noah ordered. Pike, Walker, Genevieve, and Sarah crowded into the back seat, while Chuck dove into the luggage area behind the rear seats.

Meanwhile, the tow lot guys finally made their way through the crowd and burst outside. Anthony pointed the gun at the Cube but there were simply too many people in the way to take a shot.

Noah started the ignition.

“Hey, everybody,” Walker beamed, trying to lighten the mood, “this is Genevieve.”

Dylan looked back at her and squinted. “Don’t you go to school with us?”

“Wow, it is such an honor that you all recognize me after only thirteen years of school together.”

Noah peeled out.

The three brothers jumped into their Camaro and took off after them.

The Cube turned onto Beekman Street, then Noah made another quick turn onto Fulton Street. But the other car was right on their tail.

Dylan knew there was only one chance to get away. “High speed test! Hit it!” Noah looked at him for a second with a little smile of appreciation, then floored it.

But the Camaro kept up with them and actually bumped their bumper.

“Faster!” Walker yelled.

Dylan, assuming Noah’s role, read off the speed. “Sixty… sixty-five… seventy…”

Noah swerved onto Park Row and the car literally went up on two tires. But the Camaro was still on them…

“Punch it!” Pike cheered.

“Seventy-five… eighty…”

Up ahead, the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge was rapidly approaching.

Blam!

A gunshot rang out from the other car.

“They’re fucking shooting at us!” Chuck reported, in case anyone missed it.

“Take the bridge!” Pike yelled.

“No, the F.D.R.!” Genevieve corrected.

Noah saw a line of cars stopped ahead, waiting to get onto the bridge.

“LOOK OUT!!!” Sarah screamed.

Noah swerved right at the last second and drove into the oncoming one-way street. The Camaro tried to follow, but hit the center divider instead,
smashing into it at full speed
. The hood flew up and over the car, which crumpled from the impact.

Meanwhile, Noah was driving into oncoming traffic. He overcorrected and slammed on the brakes. The Cube spun out of control.

Some of the occupants of the Cube screamed. Some of them closed their eyes and prayed. Some of them even laughed. But during those seemingly endless seconds that the Cube spun 360 degrees in the middle of Frankfort Street at 4:02 in the morning, Noah thought about Dylan. They really were sharing a moment they’d remember for the rest of their lives. Especially since there was a good chance those lives were about to end.

But God was smiling on them once again, and just like before, the Cube just stalled out and came to a complete stop in the middle of the street.

Everyone sat there for a moment not saying anything. Then Dylan broke the silence: “Entrance ramp to the Brooklyn Bridge, ninety-three.”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Noah turned on the ignition again and they drove off. The Cube merged onto the F.D.R. north.

As everyone started calming down and panic turned to excitement, they began talking about what just happened. “I thought we were going to die.” “Did you see the other car?” “That was insane.” “Oh, my God, wait until people here about this.”

Noah just smiled. A sign ahead read, “Henry Hudson Parkway, Yonkers, Albany, Connecticut.” Noah signaled and merged onto the road out of town. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Sarah looking at him, relieved. But more than that, she was happy.

Noah winked at her and she smiled back.

F
ORTY MINUTES LATER
, Noah was cruising up I-95. In the back, everyone was asleep, Genevieve on Walker’s shoulder, Pike on Walker’s other shoulder, and Sarah against the door. Chuck snored from the luggage area.

Up ahead, Noah saw the sign that read, “Welcome to Connecticut.” He turned to Dylan. “You want to take over?”

“Nah. You’re fine.”

Noah continued on into Connecticut.

Dylan was more or less recovered from the beating and was feeling philosophical again. “You know your life is going to keep getting better,” he told Noah. “This is just the beginning for you.”

Noah glanced at him for a second. Another rare moment of Dylan being contemplative.

“For all of us. We’re not going to be those guys who look back on high school as the greatest time of their lives.”

“I
am
one of those guys, Noah.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, well, I would have been. I don’t have your brains or lofty ambitions. That’s what the Army is about. For the first time in my life I’m scared, and I like it. I didn’t want to just go to UConn and take over my Dad’s paving company. I wanted to do something that matters.”

But for some reason, this explanation just sort of ticked Noah off.

“You don’t have to join the Army to get away from your Dad. Fuck that shit. You can do whatever you want with your life.”

Dylan just laughed. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you just said that. You sounded exactly like Mr. Cardellini. You should totally write that in my yearbook.” He mocked, “‘You can do whatever you want with your life.’ Maybe you can add, ‘if you set your mind to it.’”

Noah just laughed. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

And with that, Dylan rested his head against the door and fell asleep.

Noah reached Westerly, Rhode Island in no time. Everyone was still asleep as Noah pulled off the highway. Noah took surface streets for a while until the Cube stopped at a railroad crossing. There wasn’t a train coming. No lights were flashing. But for some reason the car was stopped anyway.

After a few minutes, the car pulled forward and crossed the tracks.

Noah pulled into a driveway leading to a large beach house at Misquamicut State Beach and turned off the ignition. “Guys. We’re here.”

Everyone slowly woke up. It was morning by now and the sun was just coming up. The gang made their way to the front door of Marco’s beach house and Dylan rang the doorbell.

In a few moments, Marco opened the door, wearing a plush bathrobe. He took a quick survey of his liquor-less classmates. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up. I need one, two, three, seven bottles minimum.
Times two
. Did you think I’d forget?” Then he turned to Pike, “And you owe me a shitload of pot.”

But of course the guys had nothing to give. And they were too tired to argue.

Marco looked them over. “Jeez, you guys look like shit.”

And they did. The guys were covered in cuts, scrapes, bruises, and other assorted injuries (not to mention the remnants of fire extinguisher foam, foam-pit bubbles, and yellow paint).

“Just let us in, Marco,” Dylan sighed. “We’ve had a long night.”

But Marco just scoffed and replied, “You know the rules, compadre.”

They all looked at each other, like,
Seriously?
After everything they’d been through tonight, Marco’s little games seemed so juvenile. So inconsequential. So high school.

But they still needed to get in, so Chuck stepped up to Marco and pulled something out of his back pocket. It was a little notepad, like the kind a detective might use.

“What’s this supposed to be?” Marco asked dismissively.

“A list of every bottle that’s come into your house since Freshman year,” Chuck explained. Sure enough, the notepad had Chuck’s handwritten inventory going back four years.

“Wow, that must have been a lot of work for you, Chuck. Good for you!” Marco mocked.

“Look, dickhead. If you don’t let us in right now, this little notebook might just wind up in the wrong hands,” Chuck threatened.

“What are you gonna do? Tell my dad?” From the tone of his voice, it was obvious that wasn’t much of a threat.

Chuck looked defeated. He’d tried his best.

But then, Genevieve stepped forward. “Actually, we’re going to tell the ATF.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The Bureau of
Alcohol
, Tobacco, and Firearms,” she explained. “Chuck’s records are more than enough to get a federal indictment on illegal trafficking and distribution.”

“Yeah, right,” Marco replied, not so sure.

Dylan continued the pressure. “This is serious, douche-bag. You don’t think they would care about your little operation? Let’s find out.”

Walker smiled and joined in. “You don’t have a liquor license, do you, Marco?”

Noah was game, too. “You know the ATF will seize your dad’s house. Both of them.”

Sarah delivered the coup de grâce, “You think your dad might care then?”

Chuck smiled. He liked having everyone on his side for a change.

Marco looked them over. They looked like they just might do it.

“In honor of Beach Weekend,” Marco croaked, “I think we can let it slide.”

He opened the door and everyone came in.

“Oh, and I’m not paying you for your piece of shit couch either,” Pike announced. He gave Marco the finger as he passed him.

Inside, the house looked semi-trashed, like there was a big party last night. No comparison to the party in the city, but still, it looked like they all had fun. Most of the seniors were still sleeping and they had made do without beds, sleeping on couches, in chairs, and on the floor in sleeping bags.

Dylan looked at Noah and the rest of the guys and smiled. They had gone off to New York as boys and returned as men. Or something like that. And maybe that was the whole point Dylan was trying to get across. One last hurrah before the unrelenting march of time changed everything. For the first time they were facing their futures alone. No friends or family to hold their hands on the next big step. And if that’s what growing up means—going out into the world alone—then maybe it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But somehow, after tonight, they were kind of okay with it.