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"WE GO IN THERE, GUNS A-BLAZIN', and make Ward Cameron beg for mercy. Abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámonos, get the hell out of there." JJ relays the plan, seated on the floor of the Twinkie, loading up the gun.
"Send that shit right down the Intracoastal." John B continues.
Kiara nods. "Wait for the weather."
"Exit to Cuba." Pope finishes.
"Cuba? No, man. Xcalak, Jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, and no word for money." The blond corrects, cocking the gun between his hands.
"Or we could go somewhere different? Like... I don't know, London?" Judy suggests, cross-legged on the seat across from them.
Her brother scoffs, barely in her direction. "London?"
"Why not?" She shrugs, picking at her cuticles. She's always wanted to go to the UK. "Visit the Natural History Museum, ride on a roof-top tourist bus, eat expensive chocolates from Harrods while walking by the Thames."
The vision makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
"That sounds awful." JJ's response is a pinprick to her bubble. "England s'all cold and shit." He shudders.
"Was just an idea." She mumbles, dropping her feet and redirecting her gaze out of the window.
They're close, following a road bordering the airstrip behind a layer of trees and bushes. Turning into a parting in the greenery, the van slows to a halt a few metres away from a long, chain-link fence, with a sign reading 'NO TRESPASSING!'.
"Let's do this shit." John B kills the engine and swoops out of the front seat.
Sliding the back door open, the rest of them duck and climb out onto the grass, squinting through the mid-afternoon sunshine.
"What's the plan? Broad strokes." Kie asks, as they rush to approach the fencing.
"I don't think we got that far." says John B.
Pope brings a pair of black binoculars up to his eyes. "They're loading up the gold."
The brunet snatches them out of his hands to observe the scenery for himself. Judy positions herself between the two boys, trying her best to make out what's going on with her very weak, natural vision.
