I’d never taken old Harp to be a prepper of any sort, but there were shelves lined with canned goods, emergency food rations, and store boxes of ammunition. A third World War could get started with all the firepower kept down here, but the guns were getting stored somewhere else, and aluminum storage cabinets filled the remaining wall space.

Marshall noticed me staring at the cabinets lined along the wall and put a hand on my shoulder to get my attention—then got down on a knee beside me. The doors for the cabinets were closed with a hasp—and a padlock dangled dummy locked. There wouldn’t be no better time for us to leave than right now, but Marshall never got this excited unless it was on a football field. He clamped down on my shoulder, and his eyes sparkled the way they did whenever he saw some tail at the bar he wanted to grind against.

Marshall spoke for the first time all night. “This shit’s fixing to get real wild, Coy. You won’t never believe what old Lew’s been keeping down here.”

“I don’t know if I wanna get involved in anything wild, Marshall. Looks like Harp’s been getting ready for the end of the world.”

“Don’t be a pussy. He’s been getting ready for more than that. Wait ’til you see.”

Marshall removed one of the locks from its hasp, dropped it on the floor, and gave me one of his troublemaker smiles. Instead of jerking the door open like I thought he would, he teased it open real slow. Cash fell out in big piles at his feet, and before the door opened all the way, it was ankle-deep. Every shelf was lined with thick stacks of banded cash.

“Oh shit.”

Marshall whooped, took a stack from one of the shelves, and fanned the money like some frat boy passing out singles at the Tattletale Lounge. He counted out one hundred dollar bills, let them drop to the floor, and said, “Goddamn, Coy, we’re fixing to be rich.”

I picked up one of the bills and held it up to the light. My mind might have been playing tricks on me, but I thought I saw Ben Franklin wink at me. I snatched the rest of the money from the floor and returned it to the cabinet.

“How’d you know all this was down here?” I asked Marshall.

“It’s a long story, Coy.”

“Tell it quick then.”

“Wouldn’t you rather take the money first?”

I’d never spent much of my life turning away free money, especially when it was getting served to me in crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, but I said, “I don’t know if I wanna touch it.”

“And why the hell not?” Marshall asked.

“Because you know as well as I do that Harper ain’t never been nothing but country rich. He ain’t never had money like this and wouldn’t do nothing illegal to get it—”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“He might be tied up in a situation we don’t wanna get involved in.”