Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

gesturing for the boy to get into the front passenger seat.

Mike looked down the road. The asphalt was empty, stretching black and wet toward the highway.

He turned the key in the ignition. The truck engine caught with a low, heavy purr.

“Greyhound, get ready,” Mike said into the radio.

“What are we doing?” Shark asked.

“We are not waiting continue reading …