Happy Utopia Day, Joe McCarthy

Chapter 14

I don’t crawl. I learned to fight in an alley. 

—Senator Joseph McCarthy 

“Stay inside, land!” Cannonball screams. He reaches out and pulls the car door shut. 

The government search team roars by with sirens blaring. 

“Drive, Joemore,” Cannonball yells. 

Joemore casually pulls the Eldorado onto the open road. 

“I thought you and I was friends, Joemore? What’s this racist bullshit?” Cannonball says. 

“Not racist,” Joemore grumbles. 

“Worse than racist,” Land says. “Probably doesn’t consider us human.” 

Joemore growls. “Indians stole my money.” 

Cannonball motions with his hand to the backseat. “Land stole your money?” 

“Casino stole my money.” 

Cannonball’s voice pitches higher. “A casino stole your money? And you’re taking it out on Land, who, I can tell you, has been laying his life on the line for the United States?” 

“Indian casino. Indian casino swindled me.” Joemore says this as if it settles the matter. 

Land laughs. “Being swindled don’t feel so good, does it? Serves you right.” 

Joemore slams on the brakes and the car screeches to a halt. “Out!” 

“Stay where you are,” Cannonball says. 

“Out!” 

“If you kick him out,” Cannonball says, “we will no longer be friends. And I remind you that this black-ass friend knows many of your darkest secrets and has until this moment kept them to himself, particularly from a certain ninja person you consider a girlfriend.” Cannonball rocks his head side to side as if to say, bring it on. 

Joemore groans, a deep guttural sound. The Eldorado begins to move. 

Cannonball slowly smiles. “I knew you’d be practical.” 

“A practical racist,” Land says. “I feel better already.” 

The Eldorado floats over the road effortlessly, gliding over bumps like they are cushions of air. I lean my head back against the soft leather seat. It is cool and comfortable, and I try to relax. 

“Where should we go?” Cannonball asks. “Any ideas?” 

“How are we supposed to know?” Land says. “I thought you were saving us.” 

“I’m not sure where I am now,” I say. 

“We’re on the outskirts of the Nevada test site, fifty miles north of Las Vegas,” Cannonball says. 

“Vegas would be a good place to hide,” I say. 

Cannonball nods. “Anybody else got ideas?” 

The car is silent. 

“Vegas it is.” 

I look at the oversize packet that I have been clutching like a pillow. I run my fingers over the word eagle. I wonder what it means. I close my eyes and concentrate. The email President 

Wright showed me was from Eagle. 

“How’d you get that?” Land asks. 

“I swiped it off the shelf right before we climbed out the escape vent. Do you know what it is?”