Mouse walked back to the road. Skinny waited for him.

"D'ya see anything up there?"

"No Boss," he said. Mouse had not looked anyway. He was too busy trying to spell his name in the snow with piss.

"She's gotta be around here somewhere, we just aren't looking in the right places. Let's get the hell out of here and go back a few miles and wait for her."

It was late afternoon when they killed the old man. No one saw them do it. Now, in the dark, they drove back to the gas station confident that when they returned to look for the other girl no one would recognize them. Skinny's position at the hotel afforded him some influence in the area. His business depended on word of mouth from the locals, yet still very few people would talk in public with him.

The local police had only one car that shared a fifty-square-mile territory. They often counted on Park rangers for help when seeking derelicts and scoundrels. An occasional robbery popped up now and then and if things got too serious they could call the state police in.

They sat in their Brougham at the edge of the parking lot watching as people came and went. Such excitement they seldom get. Two hours went by and no sign of the other girl. Skinny grew impatient. His mind moved in circles thinking about everything at once and his head began to hurt.

"I'm thirsty," he said after a long period of silence. Mouse sucked on his teeth and dug his finger into his mouth trying to dislodge a piece of gristle from the poorboy.

"Will you quit sucking on your hand," he said. "Do you have any idea where those hands have been? And go get me some vodka."

Mouse got out of the car and walked slowly towards the store. Skinny looked after him shaking his head as he lumbered slowly like some monster from a science fiction movie.

"Fucking ape," he said. Then he got out of the car and walked towards the commotion, keeping his eyes on the crowd and constantly looking for signs of some sort of recognition. Nothing. As he approached, he heard the police talking with the old lady who owned the place. She told them about, "these three kids" coming in and out of the store getting gas, whiskey, and food.

"But that's nothing unusual round these parts. They just seemed to be in a big hurry, is all."

She casually glanced over at Skinny for a second, no more. She had seen him often enough to recognize him, though not enough to know who he was. He would not stay long enough to give her a second look and turned to leave. Mouse stood directly behind him and blocked his way. He stood dumbly eating a box of Twinkies.

"That's disgusting," he said. "You get the booze?"

"Yeah, Boss," he said, crumbs flying from his mouth. "It's in the car, over there."

"I know where the goddamn car is," he said lighting up another cigarette. "Let's get the hell outta here," he said. "That chick ain't comin' back."