6.

Unless God decided to show up and free us from this hole the way He freed Daniel from the lion’s den, then it’d be a waste of time for us to get right with Him. We tried busting the door off its lock. Marshall gave me a boost, and I slammed my shoulder into it. It rattled on its hinges, but it didn’t budge. After three tries total, I walked away dizzier than a quarterback hit from his blindside and massaged my shoulder.

Marshall waited for me to stop babying myself and then told me to do the same with him. With the way my shoulder ached, I didn’t have the strength to lift him, and he wasn’t no more of a battering ram than me, so I told him no. He looked at the door like he might be able to stare a hole through it and asked, “What’re we gone do then?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I don’t like the idea of going with the flow no more.”

“Damn if I don’t either.” Marshall walked over to the shelves and grabbed one of the cans. “What if we started hurling these sumbitches at ’em whenever they lift the door?”

“You gone throw that can at ’em hard enough to knock ’em out?”

“Probably not. It could create a distraction though.”

“It could. But they’d just end up shooting us.”

Marshall sat the can down like he discovered an ancient curse was connected to it and walked over to the money. He started taking it by the handful and stuffing it into his pockets.

“What the hell’re you doing?” I asked.

He stopped and looked at me, said, “This’s what I came down here for, and I’m at least gone leave with a little bit of it.”

“You know they ain’t gone let you keep it.”

Marshall’s front pockets bulged now, and he stuffed bills into his back pockets. “I’m fully aware of that. But if they spend all their time searching me for money, they might forget why they’re here in the first place.”

“That’s why they’re here, Marshall.”

Marshall swatted away my words the way he did when a gnat dive-bombed around his head, “You had your idea. Now I have mine.”

It didn’t make any sense to me—but I figured it’d slow them down if there were two of us to search, so I joined my brother at the cabinets. He’d filled his back pockets and unbuckled his belt to stuff cash down the legs of his jeans.

“Maybe they’ll forget some of it, and we’ll make out with a little bit of cash anyway.”

“If we even get outta this alive.”

“You think that preacher’ll kill us?”

His question stopped me from stuffing my pockets. “I don’t know nothing ’bout this preacher, but I don’t like the way old Harp was talking ’bout him.”

“You see the way Andy’s eyes started twinkling when her deddy brought him up?”

I filled my pockets, undid my belt, and stuffed the legs of my jeans with cash. “Saw that,” I said, “she always got that look on her face when we messed around.”