The Gangsters, plus one Siamese cat, headed North on Highway 61, also known as the Great River Road. They had each purchased a personal-sized  bamboo mat they kept rolled up with a couple sheets wrapped in a trash bag. They reminded the boys of the old cowboy’s bed rolls. That, combined with the bandanas they had to wear at night to keep the bugs out of their mouths while riding gave them more of a rustic outlaw feel. The teen-aged travelers were not short on spending money, both from their gangster treasury fund and from Paulie Sr., Paulie Jr., and Mike Green insisting on paying Spider for the tattoos he did on them. Yet, despite the fact that they could have afforded to sleep every evening at a Hilton Hotel, should one have been available, they still decided that their epic excursion would best be experienced under the open sky. Besides, their brief stay at the ranch in Arkansas, the only hotel they had checked into was their harrowing escape from Mississippi.

The almost apocalyptic adventure at the car wash had more than given the boys the courage to quit smoking. It had also messed up their sleep schedule. It was because of that they had slept their last night in Missouri and rode over an antique metal bridge that looked to Buddha like the remains of an industrial mecha Godzilla. They paused for a breather to stare down at the river they had criss-crossed many times already.

“Look at this monument,” Buddha said, then read aloud the story of the shark pulled out  by the sturgeon fisherman.

“Can you imagine what he must have been thinking when he caught a shark?” George asked.

“You know, bull sharks are one of the most aggressive species of shark, too. So imagine how many people he might have eaten in a thousand miles,” Tex added.

“Whoa. That’s wild! We are a thousand miles from home? That’s crazy!” George shouted in disbelief.

They were still digesting the idea of having traveled so far when they rode down the other side of the bridge into full-blown police action. There were local police, state police, department of corrections, and Federal Marshalls checking every vehicle coming out of Illinois.

They rode down the deserted side bridge since cars going into Illinois were not being searched. “Hey, where do you think you guys are going?!” barked a Federal Marshall dressed in dark blue fatigues with a rifle slung over his back.

“Hastings, Minnesota,” answered George.

“Well, pull over next to these officers and let’s get you checked out.”

Tex immediately set to work texting Country Mike the cover story. They gave their information to the cops, including their guardian’s contact info. After a brief investigation, the Marshall reappeared with their IDs and when he handed Tex his ID, he said, “You should have driven.”

Buddha noticed something odd in both the statement and the hasty manner Tex put away his ID, but filed the thought away for later.

“So, we spoke to Mr. Maples who said he dropped you off this morning, correct?”

They all nodded a little too eagerly, but he continued. “He said he would be checking on you guys through the day with supplies and that ya’ll were headed for a hotel thirty miles from here. With that being said, I would like to give you a little advice. We have a twelve-mile perimeter set up and we believe somewhere inside here is a dangerous criminal.”

“You mean Riley Johansen?” Spider said with contempt creeping up in his voice.

“How do you guys know about the fugitive?” The Marshall’s eyes narrowed.

“They got this new thing that might not have filtered down to law enforcement yet. It’s called the internet.”

“I don’t like your tone, son.”

Buddha spat back, “I don’t like the fact that it looks like an army of police are hunting a man even the judge who presided on his case thought was innocent.”

“Well, the jury believed otherwise,” snarled the Marshall.

“Only because they were denied access to DNA evidence that would have absolved him.”

One of the other officers frowned over at the man, clearly unhappy he was wasting time with four teenagers on bikes. He sighed.

“Look, my job is not to decide on innocence or guilt. The government said capture him, that’s my job.”

“Henry David Thoureaux said, ‘there’s no greater way for a man to waste his life than to do it earning a living’,” Buddha said wisely.

The man shook his head and replied, “That is enough of this debate. The man is a dangerous army ranger. I have no doubt that if anyone gets in his way he will use deadly force. His war record gives him 27 confirmed kills and against my better judgment, I’m gonna let you boys through.” His tone got quiet as leaned over and said, “Not because I think him harmless, but because I have been a Marshall for 26 years and I would bet my eye teeth this guy is long gone. But some college educated bureaucrat believes he is in here, here we are instead of covering every way out of the country.” He shook his head and continued, “We have 100 officers right now walking across the whole perimeter. They are about three miles in. They are going to walk the whole way and look in every spot someone could hide, so don’t get in their way. Now, move out before I change my mind!”

With relief, they pedaled on through the Quad Cities and headed out of the industrial part of town into the countryside.