Page 106 of Goose

“Grab the…last two,” Tito heaved, nearly out of breath. “I’ll send…Reno a text.”

With an already elevated heartrate, the smallest of tasks became difficult. While under duress, walking across the street was as exhausting as a five-mile run on a normal day. Ally’s recommendation to take no more than two boxes each was spot-on.

I retrieved the last two boxes and paused to catch my breath. In an instant, Reno knocked on the door.

“Night vision off,” Ally said. “It’ll blind you when you open that door, if you don’t.”

We removed our gear and secured it in our backpacks. I pushed the door open. Reno stuck his head through the crack.

“Two boxes each,” I said. “We’ll have to make two trips. They’re awkward and heavy.”

With her backpack over her shoulder, Ally ducked through the doorway. “I’ll get the liftgate. Get the place wiped down, Tito.”

We each grabbed two of the boxes and followed Ally the 150-foot distance to the rear of the car. Cash and Reno stepped into the bank as soon as we exited.

After loading my two boxes into the cargo area, I turned toward the bank. Much to my surprise, Cash was stumbling toward the car, carrying four of the boxes at once.

He was nearly half the distance to the SUV. With each step, the top three boxes slid a little further to the side. Another wavering step. They began to teeter. He attempted to tilt the load to one side. The weight shifted. He adjusted. The boxes, stacked to just under his chin, tilted the other direction.

In the time it was taking him to steady his load, he could have made two trips.

“God damn it, Cash,” I said through my teeth. “Stay where you are.”

“I…I got ‘em.” He stammered.

He paused. The sudden stop caused the top three boxes to slide forward. Then, in slow-motion, three of the four boxes came crashing onto the pavement with a loud clank!

Exhausted, Cash followed, landing in a heap on the surface of the asphalt. The boxes slid across the parking lot, coming to a stop twenty feet away.

“Motherfucker!” I said under my breath.

I rushed to his side and stacked two of the boxes on one another. As I knelt to pick them up, I glared at him. “You get those, I’ll get these.”

I rushed them to the car, fuming with anger the entire way. I shoved the two boxes bedside the others. “Stupid fucker.”

Standing at the edge of the liftgate, Ally looked up. “It sounded like a train wreck. What happened?”

“Cash.” I shook my head. “Never mind.”

Out of breath, Cash stepped to my side. I turned toward the bank. When I returned with two more boxes, Tito was on his way to get the last box.

Cash and Reno were standing beside Ally gawking at the boxes. I shoved my two boxes on top of the others. “What the fuck were you thinking, you stupid fuck? She said ‘no more than two boxes.’ Not four.”

“Not now,” Ally barked. “Load up. As soon as Tito gets here, we’re gone.”

“I could have carried them,” He said. “But I slipped.”

I shook my head. “Coulda, woulda, shoulda. You’re a dip-shit.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not. Now,” Ally insisted. “I’m not going to listen to it.”

After Tito tossed in the last box, we removed our shirts and exposed our team spirit. Posing as San Diego State University football fans was a far cry from what I was used to, but I was willing to do whatever it took to evade capture.

We took our positions in the car.

“No arguing while I’m trying to drive,” Ally said. “I can’t think if you guys are arguing.”