Chapter 15

Y awoke to Hannah's rank breath and rough, hard hands shaking him. His eyes fluttered open and the previous night came flooding back. He pushed it away and turned over in his bed. The sheets covered his face.

"I said we're moving. You want I should ask what real estate is available in Hera, seeing as you wanna stay?"

"I'm going," he moaned. His body felt turgid, heavy, slow. "I'm going right now..."

Hannah took hold of the sheets with both hands and ripped them from the bed. She then balled them up in her hands and threw the bundle onto the floor with disdain. Wearing the same clothes as last night, her aggressive, swaying movements gave the impression that she was drunk.

"Hey! I said I was moving!" Y hollered.

"I saw you moving," Hannah said. "Now get up! Dean's looking for you, for his little soldier boy."

"Would you leave me be. Give a man his privacy!" Y said. His anger had come quickly and possessed him.

Hannah laughed and put her hands up. "Alright I'm leavin. I'm leaving, Y. Don't get all bent out of shape, haha."

There was a knock on the opened door and Dean stuck his head in. He saw Hannah and his expression darkened. "Where were you last night?"

Hannah said nothing. Her erratic, big movements stopped. She stood like a statue, avoiding locking her eyes with Dean's.

"She's went and got crazy and drunk," Y said, still irritated.

"I see that," Dean said. His voice was low and rather frightening. "Hannah, come with me."

"I'm all good, Dean," she said, her voice dropping as well. It was if all threats only worked if they were whispers. "Don't worry bout me."

"Oh I am sure as hell worried," Dean said. "Let the boy get dressed. Go get the wagon with Percy and Wynchell."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"That ain't nothing for you to worry about is it? C'mon already!"

Hannah passed him at the door and he turned around to follow. Y heard him yelling down the hall, yelling as he chased her outside. Shaking his head, he got his over shirt on and buttoned, pulled up his trousers, fixed his belt around his waist. He went out the front door and met Will on the street waiting for the wagon.

"Can I get a smoke?" Y asked.

Will raised an eyebrow and sighed. He reached into his pants and removed a cigarette. "I was saving this, but you can have it." Will, like a lot of people, preferred to roll his own smokes.

"Thanks. My stomach's rumbling. Where is everyone?"

"Who knows? Wynchell and Percy should be bringing the wagon around any minute. Wynchell's probably loving on that horse of his." He cleared his throat. Paused. "Y, are you good to go or what?"

Y didn't like it, not one bit of it. He also didn't see a clear alternative. If he didn't like the plan but couldn't conjur a better one there was little he could say to oppose it. "Sure I am, been waiting all my life for the chance to rob a bank."

Will playfully clapped him on the side of his head. "Shut up! Shouting and hollering like you are, we won't get but a mile out of town without a constable stopping us. I hope you realize what's ahead for you."

"How could I? All's I can do is show."

"And you will. I don't want to scare you, but if you don't, none of this works. We'll be dead in the water."

"I can handle it," Y lied. "Hey, you happen to notice Hannah, if I can change the subject?" He got a particularly strong taste of the tobacco and rolled his tongue. He coughed out a small piece of smoke.

Will looked amused. "I might have, Y. What's your point."

"Last night she was--she's been acting strange. Feels like she ain't herself."

"How should you know? But you aren't wrong. Whatever it is, it's got to do with Dean. That's their business."

"I know it. Just worries me. Seeing as we're about to--well seeing as where we're headed to, I mean."

"To New Attica?"

"By way of Wilmington."

"By way of the National Bank of Trust."

Y, sensing Will's mood, dropped the subject. He finished his cigarette and went over to the saloon for coffee. When he came back out the wagon was in the street and so were the horses. Dean and Hannah weren't speaking, and when Y went to ride with Dean he was ushered by Percy to the wagon. Percy, for his part, was stark sober and anxious to leave. He insisted that there were prying eyes, though no one else agreed. They set off for Wilmington with plenty of daylight still ahead of them. By nightfall they hoped each of them to be wealthy beyond reason.

Wilmington was a larger place than Y had anticipated. Here was a town of cobblestone, brick and mortar, an emulation of the proper cities back east, nestled in the southern half of Minnesota as if transported directly from some half-forgotten Massachusetts bay. It was a center of high education, Carter's College being then a pre-eminent school in the Region.

This time Y did not think of Chicago. He didn't think of anything besides his nerves. He played over the scene is his mind again and again. Sometimes he had to shoot someone. Sometimes he was the one getting shot. Always he was screwing up, putting them all on the lamb. His mind took him to a dank dungeon in a jailhouse, where police dressed up as Union soldiers demanded he tell them all that he knew, and he in return giving all that he had without restraint, praying for clemency and a second shot at being lost. After all, he hadn't exactly asked for any of this.

As they had come into Rice County there was a sight of wagon trails rolling off the dirt road into nearby shrubbery. The rest of the way into town, as the dirt road gave way to the cobbles, Wynchell and Percy were going wild with theories. They discussed the tracks with such furor that for a moment it the prevailing order of debate, rather than anyone dwelling on the task at hand. Y found it remarkable.

"I'm telling you that's a prowler attack, through and through." Percy was sure of himself, and wouldn't entertain anything different.

"It ain't so. Prowlers enmesh themselves in the seclusion of Mother Nature. From her bosom do they fall this far south in the state? I should think not, brother."

"Plenty of folk seen prowlers round these parts, Percy," said Will. "I knew a hunter once said anywhere you'll find a man you'll find a prowler not far behind him."

"Prolwers is scared of humans," Percy said. He was defiant. "They don't got a reason to live round here."

"They ain't scared of nothing. They'll eat the wheels of this ere wagon, no doubt. They're a ravenous people." Wynchell, who for the sake of discretion forewent his bear's pelt cloak, was shiny with sweat. He wore a straw hat that was too small for him. If not for the string tied under his chin, it would have fallen off miles back.

"That's enough about stink apes," said Dean from the front. He stopped his horse and the rest of them stopped too. Behind him they saw the cupola of a church. The Naz River rushed next to them, cutting through the center of Wilmington. "Wynchell, Y, you to go on ahead, take the wagon. Don't do nothing till we meet you in the street. Wynchell, I want you to park that thing behind the general store, ya hear?"

"It is done," said Wynchell. He flicked his reigns and the wagon pulled forward.

Y saw brightly lit store fronts, their windows like greedy eyes searching out prey, beckoning and bejeweled with wares and goods stacked in wonderful displays. The passerby were cloathed in money. You could practically see bills poking out of their $50 suits and dresses. They passed an enormous chapel with marble and bronze, like something out of Greece, its white spire making the shadow of a sword over the district.

They went over a bridge in the center of the shopping center and once crossed they favored the right side of the street. Acorn's heavy clops resounded over the commiseration of a busy market square. At the end of their street was an enormous work of masonry, a sound building of stone with columns and gold trim. First National Bank was rendered in gold across the front.

"Lookie there," Wynchell said, "we behold the gates of Tartarus."

Y's nerves jumped. His stomach rolled. What would his mother say to him now? What would his father think?

Wynchell was squinting his eyes, looking around. He looked like a hapless simpleton wearing the straw hat as he was. "You see the general store?"

"I think so. Take a right at the bank."

As Wynchell made the turn Y saw the rushing water of the Naz, churning ahead and making a background of static noise that both calmed and unnerved him. The river went and somewhere behind them was the mill, which had been built by a man named Carter and which drove the beginning of wealth in the town. Edgerton Carter of Carter's College--Y had heard his father talk about the man. He was something of a hero.

The general store was more aptly a dry goods farm co-op but it served its purpose well. There was a large dry lot with a few other wagons and flatbeds scattered throughout. There were stables for draught horses and mules. They got permission to park there with the help of a dollar.

When they returned to the street where the noise of the river was louder they saw Hannah there awaiting them. She was wearing an extravagant yellow day dress, with pale rouching in front and a firm bustle. Her face was pale with rouge and her eyelids were painted lavender. Y thought she looked beautiful.

"What happened to you?" asked Wynchell. One of his massive hands rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Very cute," Hannah said, her face reddening through the makeup. Her lavender-shaded eyes went to Y. "What in the hell are you wearing?"

He was dressed plainly. Cotton shirt tucked into a pair of brown pants. The shirt was stained gray in some places and the pants had a tear above the right knee. They were all too big for him.

"You look like an urchin," Hannah continued. "I thought you had some nicer clothes."

Y felt a little embarrassed. They hadn't really discussed what he should be wearing.

"Where's Percy?" Wynchell asked.

"Around," Hannah said. "He knows when to show. This is all about timing. Y, never mind your clothes. Are you ready?"

Y stared down at his boots. He wasn't ready--how could anyone ever say they were? There was simply no way to know. "I just go in and ask for my momma?"

"Ask for your auntie. Say your mother sent you. There's a woman--Dean says she has long tawny hair, face hard as teak--she'll come and ask if you'd like to wait with her. You say yes. Once she gets you back there, Wynchell and I will come in and secure the place. You just have to get in the vault."

They were walking now at a brisk pace. They moved with the river. Noises from the market square rushed towards them. A slight chill was in the air.

"How am I gonna do that?" Y asked. "Get into the vault, I mean?"

Wynchell walked behind them. He stared at everything around him, commenting on whatever he saw regardless of whether anyone was listening to him or not.

Hannah looked at him and her expression was changed. Her eyes were dead serious and kind of sad. Her arm went around his shoulder and her fingers squeezed his arm. She looked back to the street and spoke to him in a quiet voice out the side of her mouth. "Keep close to me Y, okay? And don't worry about nothing."

"But I mean it," Y said, confused. "How am I to get into the vault."

"Don't worry about it," Hannah said. She was frightening him. Maybe she meant to. "Don't worry and stick with me. Soon as you hear me, you do exactly as I say."

After a pause Y said, "Is something the matter, Miss Hannah?"

She wouldn't answer. They had reached their destination--the size of the bank, for all its decorative grandeur, was rather underwhelming. Y felt sick. Behind them, Wynchell belched. "Excuse me," he said, "but the sight of sickness of avarice arrests me totally. To think of all the human misery contained therein, it makes a fella want to puke."