They walked quickly over to the shed where the car was hidden and quietly pushed her out. Dillon went back to the shack, passed through the room where Ma Chester was working, nodded to her briefly and went into his own room. He picked up the Thompson, then, gently pushing the window up, he climbed out, dropping to the ground. He ran round quickly to where Roxy was waiting with the car.
“I guess we’re nuts not to have done this before,” Dillon said, sitting beside Roxy. “Suppose we stick up a service station? We want some dough badly enough.”
Roxy said, “Sure. Why not?”
They drove on into the night. Dillon sat with the Thompson on his knees, his eyes searching the dark road ahead for the sign of a light. He was nervous, but it felt good to get away from that shack.
After some time Roxy said, “Round the bend is one of those Conoco stations. We’ll drive up an’ get a tank full…. If there ain’t any excitement, we might surprise ’em.”
Dillon nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You do that.”
Roxy slowed down, and they ran round the bend. The station was about a couple of hundred yards down the road. A big car was just pulling away, heading towards them. Dillon’s fingers tightened on the gun, but the car swept past.
An attendant was going back into the office when he spotted their lights. He stopped and stood waiting at the petrol pump.
Roxy drew up beside him. The attendant was a fair-haired youngster, his eyes heavy for want of sleep.
“Give her ten,” Roxy said.