Read Online The Many Deaths of the Firefly Brothers by Thomas Mullen - Free Book Online

a typical Buick engine beneath its hood. And she of course had noticed
when one of the robbers in the backseat rolled down a window and threw what
looked like tacks and roofing nails onto the road to delay their pursuers. She
didn’t know how long they’d been driving—one minute? ten? so
hard to judge when the pace of your heart has changed—but it was long
enough to exhaust the police. Initially, there had been two cars full of bank
robbers (the other, also a Buick, had been similarly upholstered with four
hostages); she didn’t know if the second had been apprehended or if it
had fled in a different direction.
The dirt road smoothed out again, and the bandits decreased their speed from
reckless to very fast. They had been driving through woods— the
multicolored confetti of oaks and elms showering them as acorns skittered
beneath the wheels—but now the forest opened before them, revealing wide
green fields interspersed with farmland. Against these colors the clear sky looked
richer than usual.
“They’re going to kill us!” the man repeated. His heavy beard
and mustache were greasy, Darcy remembered. “We’ve seen their
faces! They won’t let us live!”
“We all saw their faces!” Darcy shut him up. Really.
“The bank was full of people, and they didn’t kill any of them!” Indeed, the thieves hadn’t hurt anyone, hadn’t pulled a trigger.
“I know how these things work!” the man insisted. “There was
a bank robbery in South Bend a month ago, and they killed the two people they
took with them! I say we let go now and take our chances in the woods!”
The prayer’s voice had only grown louder.
“That wasn’t the Firefly Brothers in South Bend!” replied the
man behind Darcy. “That was some other gang! And I’m not letting go
at this speed!”
As if on cue, the Buick began to slow down as it approached a crossingwith another country road, where an empty car was waiting.
The landscape was flat and deserted, occasional silos the only dark scratches
on the horizon.
“I’m going to let go and run for it!” the man said, shifting
his gaze among the three of them to enlist their participation. Then his
fingers uncoiled and he was gone. Darcy turned and saw his body rolling on the
ground, dirt and pebbles rising in a cloud.
The Buick parked beside the other car.
“Everybody back up three paces!” commanded a deep voice. Once the
hostages had obeyed—each of them flexing tight fingers finally released
from their death grips—the doors opened. One of the robbers sprinted back
toward the escaped hostage, who was slowly attempting to rise, moaning.
Three other men exited the car.
“Hope that wasn’t too rocky of a ride,” the gang leader said
to the hostages, his eyes lingering on Darcy. A long, double-handled gun
dangled like an afterthought from his right hand. With his jacket open, Darcy
also saw that he had a pistol in a shoulder holster. “The roads out here
leave something to be desired.”
“Please don’t hurt us,” begged the woman who’d been
praying.
“Why would we do a thing like that? You’ve served your purpose, and
did a particularly good job of it, I might add. Now, we are going to have to
tie you and you”—he pointed to the other man—“to this
post here, but the cops will find you soon enough. And it’s a nice warm
day—it’ll be good to get some air.”
As one of the robbers escorted the wounded escapee back to the parked cars, the
rest of the gang busily moved packages, bags, weapons, and gasoline cans from
the Buick into the other car, a black Pontiac. They all wore gloves, which
struck Darcy as odd, considering that none of their faces were masked.
“So you’re the Firefly Brothers?” Darcy asked the ringleader.
“That’s what they call you?”
He looked at her appraisingly, as if surprised her voice wasn’t
quivering. Perhaps he preferred quiverers? She didn’t think so.
“They call us a lot of things. But we’ll take that one over some of
the