Highway Blossoms: Episode of Mariah - Chapter 2 - Chase Down the Boulevard

Writing - Syon Santeria 

Illustration - Myuto 

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Clara dragged her backpack across the concrete, smearing a path of gravel and dirt behind her. Mariah was already regretting her decision, watching her as she would stop, gasp for breath, then drag it a little further. 

“You done?”

“Almost,” Clara wheezed. “Nnnnnggggh!” Chirping out a strained grunt, she made one last pull “There.” 

The bag flopped against the ground, and Clara gave a proud smile. Her bandana covered her eyebrows, but the glow was still there, and it made the pink cloth seem brighter than the setting sun’s pink and blood-red gradient.

Mariah sighed. “Alright, if we’re doing this you’re gonna need to gimme’ dirt on your old man. Like why you think he stashed away treasure, or why it would be at those coordinates. If it can be useful, then puke it out now.” 

“Anything useful, huh? I’m not even sure where to start, but I’ll try.” Clara stared at her sandals for the right words then rested on top of her bag. “Well, dad died a few months ago.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah… I guess.” Clara paused at Mariah’s apathy. But she supposed she was right. It did suck. At least a tiny bit. “Dad… Dad wasn’t really around a lot.” She chewed on her thoughts, separating the good and bad from the objective. “When he was though, we would do these scavenger hunts. He’d hide numbers around the trailer, and once I put them all together they’d form coordinates.” Unzipping her backpack, she pulled out a hunk of plastic with a faded screen. It was hideous and looked like it could shatter your foot if you dropped it wrong.

“A GPS tracker? That’s a throwback. I used to have one just like that when I was a brat. Always told myself I was gonna find the treasure with that piece of junk.” Mariah grinned, remembering nights nestled next to hers, while a gold nugget watched over her from the night stand.

“Then you know how unreliable they are,” Clara laughed, looking at her reflection in the tracker. “He won this in a bet and gave it to me. I’d punch in the numbers here, then track down the location through the coordinates. It was always somewhere inside the park -- a neighbor’s garden, the empty pool -- wherever he could hide it. The ‘treasure’ was always just candy, or a late birthday card. Looking back, the hunts weren’t all that clever.” She looked up from the tracker and to Mariah. “But I had a lot of fun, you know?” 

“Sure. Bet it was a barrel of laughs,” Mariah yawned. Although, it wasn’t too many years ago she had forced Joe, and later Tess, to participate in similar hunts, under the guise of ‘training.’ 

“When he died, he didn’t leave us with a whole lot. My mom got a letter, but she tore it up. I got the photo, though.” She gave a knowing chuckle. “Pretty terrible, right? Mama told me to just tear it up too and be done with it too. Maybe I should have. But... he left it for me. I need to know if there was more to it.”

“So your old man croaked and all he left you was a picture of himself? What a load of shit. I’d drag his sorry carcass out of the ground for being such a cheapass.”

Clara gasped and jumped to her feet, struggling to find her balance. “Y-You just swore! Like, real bad!” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“Mama always said it was the language of the ignorant!”

“You’re kidding me.” 

“No! Don’t use it! I’m serious!” Clara shook her head, muffling her ears before Mariah’s vocabulary could poison her mind. “Be above that!” 

“Gimme’ a break.” Mariah ruffled her bandanna. “I already get enough of that crap back at the base.”

Clara uncovered her ears. “Base? Do you have people with you, like those men inside?”

“Yeah, I have a team. A tag-along and my kid sister, but they’re both useless.”

“Should we go get them? Maybe they could help.” 

“You got equipment?” 

“Yeah… Not a whole lot, though. Dad was never too creative with his hiding spots, so I don’t think it will be anything too crazy.” 

“Those slackers can keep themselves company, then. Saves us a trip to the RV.”

A man stumbled inside the bar. The door squeaked open, then shut. Silence fell between the two. Now it was Clara’s turn to contemplate her decision.

“Not that I care, since I need the cash, but why do you even need help? You know where it’s at and you have the tools. You could just skip on over and dig it up yourself.”

She didn’t immediately answer. There wasn’t really a good way to put it. Instead, she stepped aside and cleared a path for Mariah. “Try picking up my bag.” Mariah raised an eyebrow, but Clara insisted. “Go ahead. Try.” 

Shrugging, Mariah walked over. She cracked her neck and bent her knees, finding the perfect stance as she remembered how much trouble Clara had with the monstrosity. Settling her breath into the perfect pattern, she squatted down, grabbed hold of the backpack, then lifted it up. Just like that.

“What the hell? It’s so light.” 

Clara only gave a tired smile. The faint lines of her dimples quivered as the muscles in her face tried to prop them up. She was vibrant and young, but it was an exhausting workout, and her cheeks sagged back into place.

The scratching flick of a lighter clicked behind them. Clara could feel the dull warmth of the flame against her neck . As they looked over her shoulders, Chavez pulled the flame away from his cigarette and breathed out. Smoke wisped past Jase and dissolved around Rick’s head. With a smirk, the Prospector nodded at Mariah.

“C’mon. We’re walking,” Mariah grunted and yanked on Clara’s wrist. She was light. Maybe even lighter than the backpack. 

“H-Huh? Why all of a sudden?” Clara asked. Two lines of dirt scraped behind her as pebbles spilled into her sandals.

Mariah glanced back. Led by the Prospector, the three men followed close behind. “Shut up. Just do it.” Her pace sped up. As did theirs. 

Clara’s feet glided off the ground as she was dragged along, oblivious to the thud of combat boots behind her. 

Mariah searched for an opening. Nearly snapping Clara’s arm off like a twig, she dove into the alley by the hardware store, then shoved her against the wall. One hand on Clara’s shoulder, the other against the brick. She peered out of the alley. The three men stopped, now casually resting against the splintering pillar of an abandoned building.

Clara’s eyes scanned up from Mariah’s unbuttoned chest. The smell of whiskey still lingered on her. Her wild, blonde hair flowed out of her bandanna and swayed with each jerk. She was intense and powerful. Clara gulped.

“What a pain in the ass.”

“What’s going on? What’s a pain in the butt?”

“Those idiots from the bar.” Mariah eased back and let her sneak a quick peek. “They want a slice of the pie.” 

“Dad’s treasure?” Clara bounced on her tippy-toes for a better look, but Mariah squished her back down. “How can you be sure?” 

“‘Cause I’d be doing the same thing. Lots of out-of-work treasure hunters are bumming around right now.”

“Oh… Well, they were a little rough, but maybe they can help? That one guy seemed to know what he’s doing.”

“Did your old man stash treasure in your ears, too? I told ya, I’m all you need! Besides, I’m way more of a pro than those blowhards.” 

Clara blinked, then giggled. It was lost on Mariah, and that was fine. She could trust that one-track mindedness -- even if it meant more near-bar fights.

“Better be laughing ‘cause you have an idea,” Mariah scowled as she backed away.

“S-Sorry.” Clara shielded herself behind Mariah and looked at the men. 

The embers from Chavez’s cigarette fell around their feet. The Prospector grounded them into the dirt and tipped his hat at the girls. At his side, Jase scratched his unshaven neck and grinned, presenting his muddied, black teeth. 

“These guys are bad news, huh?”

“That doesn’t matter. The news is boring. What does matter is making sure they don’t get their greasy mitts on my treasure. Can’t afford to compromise with amateurs right now.” 

Clara bent over and dusted off her backpack. She slipped her shoulders between the straps, then strained, the weight of the bag sea-sawing her back and forth before she found solid footing. 

“Hey Sticks, you got a set of wheels, right?” 

“Uh-huh. It’s near the diner at the end of town, though. I was following the railroad until I found someone…” 

Rick looked at the sky. The dimming sun began submerging behind the rugged mountain cliffs. Clouds that were puffy and pink just minutes before had darkened, pockets of night-blue now shading their edges. He waved along his men and started for the alley. They had waited long enough.

“Alright, darling. That’s enough hide-and-seek. We just want to talk to your new friend. Honest,” Rick said.

“Don’t you have a cousin to go home and screw?” Mariah yelled. She lowered her voice and turned to Clara. “Can you at least run?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can,” Clara whimpered, as she looked down at her legs. They wobbled beneath the weight of herself.

“Dammit!” Mariah pounded her fist on the wall. “I already carry two idiots everyday. Why do I have to raise that to three?” 

The Prospector and his men marched closer. Mariah arched over, ready -- but not all that willing -- to be the mule. That was Joe’s job. 

Clara chewed her nails as her eyes darted around. It was getting dark. Electric signs from the buildings zapped on, attempting to lure travelers from the nearby interstate. First from the diner across the street, then Paco’s bar, and finally the hardware store. The neon shovel attached to the storefront blinked off and on, lighting the tools and crates around it. Lighting the wheelbarrow. 

“There!” She pointed, then scurried over and tossed in her backpack. Seconds later, she was in the wheelbarrow, too. “Push me!” 

Mariah’s confusion oozed into a smirk. She leapt over and gripped the handles. “Not too bad, Sticks. You might have a few more wrinkles in that brain than I thought.”

“Uh, thanks, I think. But let’s come back afterwards and pay for it, okay? I’ll feel really bad if we don’t.”

“Never mind, you’re a dumbass. Now hold on unless you wanna get thrown out.”

“You make it sound like you’re gonna go fas--”

Mariah kicked her feet off the ground. Dirt clouded around her as she landed. Still pushing, she launched the wheelbarrow onto the street.

Clara’s words melted into a scream, yelping over the metal as it scraped against the road. 

“Quit your whining! I’ve barely even pushed ya!”

Wobbling for balance, the wheelbarrow crashed and teetered into trash cans. Garbage spilled across the ground as they toppled over.

“S-Sorry!”

“Shut up!”

Clara resisted the urge to apologize again and squeezed her backpack, smothering her face in it.

Rick squinted. The wheelbarrow barreled towards the three. As its speed picked up, Mariah unleashed a tribal yell. The men gawked at the oncoming bullet train, diving out of the way moments before they could be mowed down. 

Jase and Chavez untucked their heads and stumbled to their feet. Rick dusted off his hat and stared down the road. 

Mariah sped off into the setting sun and looked back. “NEXT TIME I WON’T MISS, YOU HICK!”

Dumbfounded, they gazed back as she got further and further away.

“Don’t just stand there! Get going!” Rick snapped.

“Sir!”

“On it, boss.” 

Chavez faded into the shadows of the alley, while Jase chased straight after them. Grumbling, the Prospector watched as he straightened out his hat.

Clara opened her eyes. Buildings swooshed by as cold wind brushed against her face, Mariah’s warm breath blasting the back of her neck.

“Oh my God, I didn’t think that was going to work. Are we actually okay?”

“You’re breathing, aren’t ya?” 

“Yeah-- I mean, I think I am.” Clara checked her pulse just in case. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

“Good. ‘Cause if you aren’t, I’ll dump you off right here.”

“I’m breathing, I’m breathing! Just… wow, you know? Do things always turn out like this for you?”

“So what if it does, huh? You ask too many questions!” The wheelbarrow snagged a bump in the road. It jerked up. Clara absorbed the impact. “By the way, where’s your car?”

Wincing, she rubbed her back. “At the edge of town. Should be in front of the diner.”

“A diner! Of course it’s a stupid diner. 

“I like them,” Clara said. She was an agreeable girl. “I think they’re homely.”

“You don’t know them like I do!”

“Oi! You best listen to what the Prospector has to say!” A voice shouted at them from behind.

Mariah glared over her shoulder. Jase’s wire-frame limbered at them. 

“Dammit, I thought I hit this guy,” Mariah grumbled.

“Are they really that desperate?” Clara asked.

“Sticks, you got a lot to learn about treasure hunters.”

Mariah ramped up the speed. The wheelbarrow charged forward, its momentum now dragging her along. 

Jase smirked. “Not gonna do you a whole lot of good.” His sprint shifted into leaps. Bounding through the air, one foot would land and the other would go up. When this happened, you could fit the wheelbarrow in the large space between his legs. The gap only got smaller as he caught up to Mariah. It was wasn’t even worth sweating over.

Mariah ignored Jase as he jogged by her side. Her lungs chugged along, pumping the sharp air through her. With each step, she stomped on the concrete. It was hard and unforgiving, and pain would shoot up her legs. Her kneecaps smacked against the wheelbarrow. Coordination was just a hindrance. But this was as fast as she could go.

“Don’t try so hard, love! Give us what we want and we’ll be square!” 

“After all that crap back there?” Mariah tried to laugh, but she could gasp for more air. “I wouldn’t help your asses if you begged!”

“You can keep yourself! We just need the girl!”

“I FOUND HER FIRST!” 

“Wait, Mariah! Please do--” Clara was too late.

Mariah slammed the wheelbarrow into Jase. It blasted into his side. Clara latched onto the edges, coming face-to-face with him as the wind was knocked out of his body. He tumbled onto the ground. Pebbles and dirt rashed against his cheek as he rolled to a stop.

“Damn, that was satisfying!” 

Still gripping onto the sides, Clara’s voice shook. “Wh-What if I fell out?”

“Huh. Didn’t really think about it.”

Jase wiped his face. A glowing, red mark scraped across his cheek, imprinted with gravel and specks of blood. It stung to the touch. He climbed to his feet and spit out the dirt.

His eyes burned. Reaching into his tattered shorts, he flipped out a small blade. “You’re not getting away with this,” he whispered. Unconcerned with form or efficiency, Jase dashed back towards them. His sprint was now a wobble, but faster than Mariah could ever outrun.

“Mariah! Watch out!” Clara screamed.

Mariah turned. Jase sliced at her, but she swerved. The knife caught on her jumpsuit, tearing off a piece of the fabric. 

Mariah was still staring, watching in a daze. He slashed it at her again. Coming to her senses, she bent back and dodged. Pleased with these two tiny miracles, Mariah grinned. Jase could only scream in frustration.

“It’s only proper a cow should be gutted!’ He swung the knife again. Then again. Dicing through the air. Dicing at her. 

Mariah dodged. If it really was dodging. She sucked in her gut. Ducked her head. Tilted to the side. Whatever it took to keep from getting cut. But the wheelbarrow was a constant struggle. The tipping and swaying of balance was a shackle to her mobility.

The road stretched on, the edge of town now on the horizon. Mariah’s legs clamped down and her momentum puttered out. Jase limped, but at least Jase could run.

Clara felt the wheelbarrow slowing down. The wind that once blew against her face was gone, replaced by the quick gust of Jase’s knife. Clara wasn’t quite sure if Mariah had a limit, but if she did, she knew she was going to hit it quick.

“The alley! Get into the alley!” Clara pointed to an opening between the line of buildings.

Out of options and out of arguments, Mariah swung to the left.

Jase turned with them. Mariah had slowed just enough on the turn that he had a clear shot of her shoulder. He could get her. She would stop until the others arrived. The Prospector would be proud of him. 

“You ain’t as clever as you think you are!” He took another jab at her.

“Slam him!” Clara yelled.

Mariah saw Jase’s hand slashing at her. She also saw the brick wall right beside him. It immediately clicked. Practically lifting the wheelbarrow, Mariah swung it into Jase. The knife bounced off the metal. The wheelbarrow pounded him against the wall. 

He crumpled over. His body collapsed on the ground. But instead of the dark relief of unconsciousness, a razor-sharp pain dug deep into him. Jase screamed and flopped onto his back, the knife sticking out of his shoulder. Blood seeped out of his shirt.

A shock split across Clara’s heart and she covered her eyes. 

“Ha! Hope you get tetanus, dumbass!,” Mariah said. Turning to go deeper into the alley, she left Jase sobbing in the dirt. 

Jase’s cries echoed throughout the alley, following Clara and Mariah as they ventured further into the dark.

“Timeout, timeout. I need a second to breath,” Clara said.

“You need a second to breath? I don’t see you doing any running. Besides, there’s two more of them.You really think they’d just send numbsack back there after us.”

“Please stop. That was… That was too much. I-I need to think.”

Stopping the wheelbarrow, Mariah leaned over to look at Clara. “That was nothing. Don’t tell me your feet have gotten cold from all that sitting.” 

“Nothing? A man just tried to stab you! And it was because of me! And then he got stabbed -- also because of me!” 

“It was his own damn fault. Remember how you aren’t supposed to run with scissors? Same logic, just a little sharper. Be happy it wasn’t his eye or something.” 

“How can you be so casual about this? That man could have died! You could have died!”

“I could’ve drank myself to death in that bar, too. But here I am with you.”

Clara let out a long, anxious wine. “Is this really worth it? I didn’t think it would be so dangerous. It doesn’t matter if I get hurt -- not anymore. But other people? I don’t want that.”

“Look, treasure hunting is a selfish business. Deal with it. If you start thinking about other stuff, like people or laws or whatever, then, well -- don’t. Just makes things more confusing. Trust me. Don’t make this a bigger pain in the ass than it already is.” 

“That’s funny coming from you, chica.” A dim, orange light poked out from the shadows, and with it, Chavez. The holster beneath his shirt was empty. “Considering you just made your life a lot harder. And shorter.”

Clara turned, and as her sore eyes adapted to the dark, she could make out an odd, clubbed shape in his hand. Chavez let his cigarette fall from his mouth. For a moment, its dying embers lit up the cold iron in his hand. Then, it hit the ground and died.

Clara gasped. “Mariah, he has a gun.”

Sighing, Mariah peered over her shoulder. “I saw you on that slot machine earlier. With luck like that, do you really think you can hit us?”

Chavez chuckled, the remnants of the cigarette smoke puffed out of his mouth. “Pretty sure.” He stepped closer.

“At least the other guy could actually run. How far do you think your fatass will go before getting tired? Twenty feet? Ten?”

Unzipping her backpack, Clara made quiet, delicate movements to retrieve the photo.

“The bullets do the chasing for me.”

Clara moved on to the next zipper, now aiming for the GPS tracker.

“Wanna see if that’s true?” Mariah’s legs bent. She hadn’t recovered from the chase yet, but if this was the only way, then why the hell not? The wheelbarrow rolled forward.

Clara’s veins stretched out from what was left of her neck. Did Mariah even have a plan? She was going to get herself killed.

The gun’s hammer clicked back. Mariah at least had the sense to freeze, albeit with a groan.

Clara sighed in relief, then took out the tracker. She never thought she would be happy to hear the sound of a gun.

“I’m gonna make this easy -- hand over the girl and you’ll leave with a few less holes in your head.”

“Why do you idiots want her, anyway The treasure might not even be worth anyth--”

Chavez fired a shot into the air. The sound blasted into Mariah and Clara’s ears, and everything was a deafening ring. 

“Times are rough. We’ll take what we can get. You have ‘til the count of five.”

Mariah looked around her, scrambling for a way to get out of this. Dialogue was no longer an option -- and she wasn’t that good at it to begin with. 

“Mariah!” Clara whispered.

“One.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to think.” Mariah looked down the alley. The blue tint of twilight shined through at the very end. That garbage about his luck might be the only way.

“Two.”

“Think down here!’

Mariah glanced down at Clara, the tracker and photo at her side. She lifted up the backpack.

“Three.” 

Uneasiness creeped over Mariah. Only Clara was getting them out of this. “Let’s hope his aim is trash.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Four.” 

“When I say ‘go’ just run, okay?”

“I’m pretty good at doing that.”

“Five.”

“GO!”

With every bit of strength Clara could muscle out of herself, she heaved the backpack over Mariah’s head. Chavez unloaded four rounds. One after the other, the bullets shot out with chaotic pops. Clara covered her ears and braced for the worst.

A smirk greased its way under Chavez’ thin mustache, then immediately dropped. The backpack floated to the ground, five strands of smoke wisping above it. 

Still tense and stiff, Clara uncovered her ears. Her loose shirt flapped in the wind. Beside her, the pattern of the walls flashed from brick, to concrete, to wood. She sighed, but only for a moment. With a gasp, her head swirled back. Huffing and puffing through gritted teeth and a shower of sweat, Mariah kept pushing along. Streaks of light from the cracked open doors of bars and liquor stores striped down her face as she ran by them. 

An overflow of excitement surged through Clara. Little, dormant specks of joy from across her body lit up and merged together, blobbing into an uncontrollable rush of emotion that leaked out through a wide smile. She was breathing. Her blood was pumping. And they were still running.

“That was a pretty ballsy move! What if I got shot?”

“You were the one who said treasure hunting was dangerous,” Clara giggled.

Mariah thought, then cracked a grin. “Ha! Not too shabby, Sticks!” 

‘Sticks.’ Such a weird nickname. A bit offensive, actually. Clara didn’t need to look any further than her own arms to know exactly where Mariah had pulled it from. But combined with the compliment, it didn’t feel like an insult. It felt like acknowledgement. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but it made her feel like she was worth something, even in such a fragile state.

These warm thoughts were ripped from Clara’s head, as Chavez trampled over the backpack and began to make chase. 

“Uh-oh, he’s not done yet! Be careful, Mariah!”

“Do I have to cram the message down their throats?” Mariah grunted beneath her breath. “Tell me what he’s doing!” 

Chavez’ arms swung at his side as he power walked towards them. Wiping the moisture from his forehead, he took aim with his gun, struggling for the perfect shot while maintaining his waddle.

“H-His gun is still out! I should have brought another backpack I’m so duuuuumb!” Clara wailed. 

“Do anymore whining and I’m dumping you out!”

A thought pierced Clara’s head as she wiped the weepiness from her eyes. “Wait! Maybe it’s his last bullet! He’s already fired five!”

Exiting from one of the back doors, a man in an apron carried a garbage back to the stained trash can, whistling to the tune on his earbuds. 

Mariah grinned. “This’ll be easy, then!” 

The combined thunder of the wheelbarrow and Mariah’s footsteps didn’t reach the man until they were skating right in front of him. Without time to even dodge, Mariah plowed an elbow into his back. Chavez collided into him. They tumbled over each other, garbage spilling across the ground as the man’s headphones were torn from his ears.

The collision horrified Clara. It was even worse than seeing those gruesome wrecks on TV. Just a pile of bent limbs bathed in trash. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Please don’t be dead!”

“Casualty of war! Greater good and all that crap!”

“That’s a lie!”

Peeling his face off the ground, Chavez’ hand shook as he pointed the gun at the girls. Through his blurred vision, he took the shot. The bullet ricochet off the ground, skimming by Mariah’s feet and missing. But the man in the apron wasn’t as lucky. With no headphones to drown out the sound, his numb ears burned from the gunshot. Toppled over Chavez’ planet of a body, he grabbed a bottle from the spilled trash and shattered it over his head.

For the second his eyes were open, the glittering shards of glass looked like colorful stars to Chavez, but those stars soon disappeared into the blackness of night. His aim really was trash.

Splitting off into sidewalks and roads, the alley began fading away. The wheelbarrow nearly capsized as Clara scrambled to the front, perching over it like it was the bow of a ship. “It’s right over there!” She pointed to a silver, compact car. It was just ahead. All they needed to do was get out of the alley and make a run for the diner’s deserted parking lot. 

“Finally! Park a little closer next time, will ya?” Mariah scolded, but took pride in her accomplishment. It was a relief to see that unremarkable little box. Her heart would stop doing gymnastics and she could sweat off the rest whisky with the help of air conditioning. 

“Uh-huh!” Clara swallowed back the teary joy in her throat. “You got it!” she cracked. 

The light posts in the parking lot flickered on. Their orange bulbs matched the cinders of dusk and the gleam only got brighter as they got closer. Clara was ready to trade in the claustrophobic grunge of the alley for the sweeping vastness her father had laid out for her in the desert. Mariah was ready to get away from the smell.

They were inches away from flying out of the alley. But they were stopped.

Two hunting boots marched around the corner and cemented themselves in front of the exit. They didn’t move as Mariah was dragged into a skidding stop. 

The rubber of Mariah’s own boots sizzled from the friction. She scanned the barrier in front of her, from his dirt-clouded belt buckle, to his lumberjack beard.

“That all sounded like quite the commotion,” Rick peered past the wheelbarrow. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

“You should ask Sniffles,” Mariah snorted. “Take him to the ER now and he might keep his.”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“How about I shove that foot up your ass?”

“You aren’t who I’m talking to, darling. Figured it was presumptuous to think you and I share the same reasoning skills.”

“I’ll reason you in the face…” Mariah mumbled.

“Actually, I was talking to this little lady right here.” 

Clara glanced around. To Rick, to Mariah, then to someone who might have been behind them. “Wait… M-Me?” She pointed to herself.

“I disregarded you in the bar without even introducing myself. My name is Rick.” He swept off his hat and bowed. “It’s a pleasure.” The Prospector clutched Clara’s arm and smooched the back of her hand.

If she had any hair, the poking bristles of his mustache and the wet sucking of his saliva would have made it stand up. Instead, she shuddered, goosebumps tingling straight to her hand as she rubbed away the kiss. Regardless, she tried to remain as kind and polite as always. “I’m Clara. Thank you very much for the introduction… Mr. Rick.”

‘Mr. Rick’ smiled.  “Sorry for all the commotion, Ms. Clara, but me and my boys couldn’t help but overhear you talking about your little problem. We thought we could offer some assistance.”

“See? What did I tell ya?” Mariah said.

“I won’t lie. We’re treasure hunters too, just like darling over here,” Rick chuckled. “Only difference is we’re not amateurs. That means we actually know what we’re doing.”

Mariah had the burning urge to pounce on the bastard, but scrambled back to handles as soon as she realized the wheelbarrow was falling from her hands.

“You see, I’ve been mining and hunting for years now. Long before this Second Gold Rush business drove people out here. I am ripe with decades of experience. What does she got, though?” he scoffed. “A shovel and a metal detector? Tall tales about almost finding gold? That loudmouth ain’t actually going to help you.”

Mariah glared at Rick with squinted eyes. She was ready to swing the wheelbarrow at him with Clara still inside.

Rick placed a firm hand on the edge of the cart. He leaned in, locking Clara’s eyes onto his. “I am willing to share my knowledge to help you find your daddy’s treasure. But I am a fair man. Take me up on this, and you don’t have to give it all up. We’ll split it four ways. Only if you make this easy, though.” He squeezed the frame of the wheelbarrow, his fingers leaving paw marks in the metal. “Or do I have to remind you of how capable my boys are?”

Clara looked down from his frigid, blue eyes to the half-obscured photo by her legs. She turned to Mariah and looked up at her. Looked at her blazing stare. 

“Mariah… I’m about to do something really selfish.”

Rick whooshed out his hand for a shake. “I knew you had good reasoning skills, Ms. Clara.”

“H-Hold on a second, Sticks,” Mariah panicked. “You’re not seriously gonna hang me out to dry, are ya?”

Clara grabbed his hand, then shook it. 

Mariah’s panic switched to fury. “You little runt! You totally are! Couldn’t you have double crossed me for someone coole--”

Still gripping his hand, Clara flung herself back. She launched into Mariah’s stomach, and they crashed to the ground. Her hand let go of Rick’s as the tip of the wheelbarrow catapulted up. There were no chances to dodge. Just a swift rocket into his chin, the wheelbarrow cracking the frame of his jaw. His head clonked onto the cement. He was out.

Mariah coughed the air back into her lungs, each breath revealing a new bruise hammered into her back. The kid weighed like a pillowcase but hit like a brick. Still on the offense, Mariah swung a glare at Clara, almost a fist, too. But she lowered her hand before the first strike.

On the other side of the toppled wheelbarrow was Rick. Faced down and cratered into the earth.

Sprawled on top of Mariah, Clara winced open her eyes and gave a pained smile. “D-Did I do okay?”

“Yeah…” she snickered. “Yeah, you did okay.” She hardly believed a sack of flower petals like Clara could take down a boar that had probably been gorging on biscuits and gravy for fifty-plus years. Not with that mental fortitude. But hey, maybe something she said had gotten through to her. Who knew?

Rick groaned, and the light began to shine back into his eyes.

Mariah and Clara’s faces turned to stone.

“Alright, time to scram.” Mariah scraped Clara off the ground and hoisted her up.

Using each for support, they limped passed Rick. His groaning got louder, more conscious. He began to massage his jaw. They sped up.

“Hurry, hurry,” Clara said.

“What do ya think I’ve been doing?”

Finally, the Prospector’s eyes snapped open. Rolling onto his back, he saw two blurry figures hobbling away. It took one, two, three seconds to register, then he was mad. He climbed to one foot. Then to the other. Staggering in place, he attempted to yell, but an intense, throbbing pain slammed his jaw. He clutched it, and he ran.

A pink ribbon in the shape of a fish was stickered to the car’s bumper. Mariah used it for leverage as she directed Clara to the passenger’s side. She wobbled around, catching a glimpse of Rick as he stampeded at them. Her wobble turned into a gallop. The door was locked.

“Keys!” Clara yelled.

Mariah struggled against the handle, forced to look at the window’s reflection. 

The Prospector was coming. 

“PASS ‘EM! PASS ‘EM!” Mariah screamed.

Clara dug the keys out of her pocket and slid them over the hood. She overshot. They hit the ground. Mariah scrambled to pick them up, not daring to look behind her. 

She pressed the button. The locks unlatched. The car lights turned on, but the parking lot felt darker than ever.

They flew into their seats. Mariah swung the door shut. Rick smacked into the glass, pulling on the handle. Mariah pulled back, one hand in a tug-o-war battle, while the other searched for the lock. She pulled the door shut and punched the lock button.. 

Rick pounded on the window. Mariah expected the satisfying roar of the engine to drown out his shouts. She twisted it to life. It only hummed. 

“You call this thing a car?”

“It’s a hybrid! Better for the environment!”

A powerful thud slammed into the driver’s side.

They stopped and turned.

Outside, Rick charged forward and slammed his shoulder into it again. The car shook like it was on a fault line. A crack, no bigger than a dot, took shape in the window.

“A’ight, that’s a little scary.” Mariah gave a calm inspection of the crack.

“Only a little?!”

Rick pulled back and took a moment to breath. His shoulder was sore but he didn’t care. This was going to be the big one. Done resting, he charged one last time. 

Mariah saw it coming this time. She pulled the car into reverse and drove back. This time, all Rick hit was air. 

The car swerved out of the parking lot. They looked in the rear view mirror as Rick stumbled to keep his balance, watching them as they drove away. Mariah hung her head and sighed.

“I’m the worst...” Clara whispered, staring into the side as they got on the road.

“You’re fine. I would’ve knocked that hick out too if I had the chance.”

“No, I mean…” Clara looked back to Mariah with regret, “whoever owns that hardware is never going to get their wheelbarrow back now.”