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in agreement. “I thought you’d see it my way.”
    “Say I do get the money somehow, then what? What’s in it for me?”
    “You walk away. You and the girl. You can have your whole little family. I get my money, and you go home happy. Everybody wins.”
    “How do I know I can trust you?”
    “You don’t have a choice. There is no other alternative for you.”
    He’s right.
    “Fine. I’m in.”
    Without saying anything, Billy turns and walks out the door. He pops his head back in a moment later and looks to me. “Are you coming?”
    I reach for and pull the string hanging from the ceiling, killing the light, then follow Billy into the hall.
     
    ---
     
    I sit on the cracked, faded, black leather bench in the rear of Billy’s van, my hands tied together in my lap with a shaggy rope. It’s the same van that grabbed me earlier, that much I remember. Billy drives in silence mostly, whistling a tune periodically. The other guy, Frank, sits across from me, obliviously picking his nose like no one is around.
    The floor of the van is covered with shit. Not shit like feces, but shit like junk: Gum wrappers, cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and an old sneaker. The rear windows are tinted on the outside and covered with a sheet on the inside. No one can see in and no one can see out. I didn’t notice before, but it’s musty. It kind of reminds me of an old attic, or a wet dog. I can’t pinpoint it exactly. A black bag rests between Frank’s legs under the bench he’s sitting on. Suddenly, and seemingly randomly, the van slows down and comes to a stop. We couldn’t have gone much more than a few miles from the warehouse. The engine is killed.
    “We’re here,” Billy says, now turned to Frank and me. “Get your finger out of your nose.”
    Frank looks surprised he was caught, and he quickly removes his index finger from his left nostril. He wipes his finger on the seat. Billy gives him a look, and Frank shrugs. Billy turns back and faces the front, then opens his door and hops down.
    Moments later, the backdoors swing open and Billy is silhouetted in the afternoon sun. I shield my eyes with my tied hands. Frank stands, approaches me, and motions for me to get up. He grabs the rope on my wrists and we leap out the backdoors together.
    The scene is unfamiliar to me, a place I’ve never been. I don’t spend much time exploring new places, but I’ve lived in Kansas my whole life and this place looks foreign. To my right, a chain-link fence with high voltage warning signs enclose a large structure. It’s huge, probably as wide as a tree trunk at the base and as tall as a skyscraper, although it does narrow out a bit at the top. I suspect it’s a cell tower.
    “What are we doing here?” I ask to anyone who will listen.
    Billy looks around with his head pointed in the sky. Frank stands next to me.
    “A lovely day, isn’t it?” Billy says as he breathes in heavily through his nose, still looking up. He fetches a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lights it with a Zippo. He flips the cover open and closed, the aluminum clicking with each motion while he smokes. He smokes the entire stick without anyone saying a word. When he finished, he finally continues, “I bet you’re wondering why I brought you here.”
    I just stare at him, the question too stupid to offer a polite response. He fetches some gum from his pocket and disposes of the wrapper on the dirt. He points to the tower.
    “Do you know what this is?”
    “It’s a tower,” I say.
    Billy smiles. “It’s not just a tower, George. It’s a cell phone tower. Do you know the range on this thing?”
    “No. Should I?”
    “37 miles. 37.25 miles actually. 196,680 feet. But who’s counting?”
    “So?”
    “You got a problem with that?” Frank is suddenly in my face, unprompted and aggressive. He pulls me up by my collar. We stare at one another, me looking down at him in fear, Frank looking up at me in rage. Then he smiles. “I just kiddin’