Outside, Leo threw open the driver's door.
Corey jumped in.
Leo started the engine.
Nothing.
"Come on."
He turned the key again.
The engine coughed.
Nothing.
"Come on!"
Corey looked behind them.
"Leo."
"What?"
"Lights."
Far away, red and blue lights appeared.
Leo froze.
"No."
The truck driver had called 911.
The police were already coming.
Leo slammed the car into reverse.
The tires spun in gravel.
The Dodge lurched backward.
Then stopped.
The engine died again.
Corey whispered.
"We're done."
Leo looked at the shotgun.
Then at the road.
Then at the diner.
His face collapsed.
"We're not going to jail."
Corey stared at him.
"What are you talking about?"
"We're not."
Leo grabbed the shotgun.
Corey reached for his arm.
"Leo!"
Leo shoved him away.
"You stay here."
"No."
"Stay here!"
Leo ran.
He disappeared into the darkness behind the diner.
Corey remained in the driver's seat.
He was crying now.
Not loudly.
Just tears running down his face.
When the police arrived, Corey didn't resist.
He raised both hands.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The officers ordered him to the ground.
He obeyed.
Inside the diner, Brenda watched through the window.
Mike stood behind her.
"Is he going to shoot someone?" she asked.
Mike looked into the darkness.
"I hope not."
Outside, Leo was running through the desert.
He believed darkness would hide him.
But he didn't know the Mojave.
And he didn't know Mike Callahan.
THE DESERT DOESN'T FORGET
Mike walked outside only after the police secured the area.
A deputy approached.
"Sir, stay inside."
Mike stopped.
"Okay."
The deputy looked at him.
"You the man from Table Seven?"
Mike nodded.
"That's me."
"What happened?"
Mike looked toward the desert.
"Two men came in. One had a shotgun. One had a revolver."
"You confronted them?"
"I talked to them."
The deputy frowned.
"Talked?"
Mike nodded.
The deputy looked confused.
"Why?"
Mike gave him a tired smile.
"Because talking was safer than fighting."
The deputy radioed his partner.
"One suspect detained. Second suspect fled east behind the diner."
Mike looked at the deputy.
"How long?"
"About five minutes."
"He's heading toward the dry wash."
The deputy stared.
"How do you know?"
"Because that's where I'd go."
"You familiar with the area?"
Mike looked across the darkness.
"Very."
That was an understatement.
Mike had spent years in the Mojave.
He knew the old service roads.
The washes.
The abandoned mining trails.
The places where a person could hide.
And the places where a person could die.
The deputy called for a search unit.
Mike remained near the diner.
But he couldn't stop thinking about Leo.
Not because he felt sorry for him.
Because he knew what fear could do.
At 1:09 a.m., the search team found Leo's footprints.
At 1:26, they lost them.
At 1:42, they found his jacket.
At 1:57, they heard something.
A cry.
Then silence.
The officers moved toward the sound.
They found Leo in a dry wash.
His ankle was twisted.
The shotgun lay several feet away.
Leo had fallen between two rocks.
When the deputy approached, Leo tried to crawl away.
"Don't shoot!"
"No one's shooting."
Leo started laughing.
Then crying.
Then laughing again.
"I didn't mean to."
The deputy crouched.
"Didn't mean to what?"
"Any of it."
The deputy looked at him.
"Then why did you do it?"
Leo had no answer.
He looked toward the diner.
"Is the old man okay?"
"Yes."
Leo closed his eyes.
For some reason, that made him cry harder.
THE VIDEO
By morning, the story had already started spreading.
The diner's security system had recorded everything.
A copy was given to police.
Another copy was accidentally uploaded by someone connected to the diner.
The clip was thirty-seven seconds long.
Thirty-seven seconds.
That was all it took.
The video began with Leo pointing the shotgun.
Then Mike speaking.
Then the coffee cup.
Clink.
The internet exploded.
People shared it.
Commented.
Reacted.
Argued.
By afternoon, the video had been viewed millions of times.
By the following morning, it had passed forty million.
The headline was everywhere.
MAN STARES DOWN ARMED ROBBER WITHOUT BLINKING
People called Mike fearless.
Mike hated the word.
A reporter found him outside his small house in Barstow.
"Mr. Callahan, did you know the video was going viral?"
"No."
"How do you feel about being called a hero?"
"I'm not."
"Then what are you?"
Mike thought for a moment.
"Someone who was sitting in a diner."