As it was not a brilliant idea to make a getaway with a car so easy to track down, they resolved to take a few more days to get everything ready and returned the vehicle to its usual parking spot. It was relatively easy, as they were not on the clock: as long as there were no phone calls, they could just go about their days.

For once it was Spanky who had a plan. A mechanic he knew had a van in stock. It just needed a few new papers, a plate change, a new windshield and a coat of paint. It also made it simpler that people from their crowd did not ask questions. In the meantime, they would make spartan preparations: no phone nor computer could be taken, and Spanky finally resolved to buy a hand-held CD player and leave most of his disk collection behind, along with the rest of his life. Andy took a few pictures he had taped to the fridge, his current bedside novel and not much else. He thoroughly spent an hour burning compromising letters, notes and invoices, just in case.

They had to leave bank accounts behind, and that was a difficult thing to do. They opted for leaving the shopping and final money withdrawal to their first stop after departure in order to lower the amount of suspicious activity they showed at home.

The van was finally ready, in a questionable leaf green shade, with papers in order. Sasha the mechanic had even made the new windshield bulletproof — again something he had on hand — probably hoping to curry favors with Spanky and the people he stood for. Spanky awkwardly praised him for the effort. Truth was, the stunt they were pulling would probably damage Sasha’s reputation for a while.

Spanky met Andy as promised later that evening at an old pub they liked. He showed up in their new drive and they both toured the thing. He had already put down a couple mattresses that pretty much took up all the floor space, along with a folding table, a couple chairs and plastic tower-thing with drawers that was bolted to the wall.

“All of this I had with me”, said Spanky, pointing at the little arrangement, “so nothing suspicious or even remotely traceable. In the daytime if we just want something cozy we can put the mattresses against the wall with these tensors over there, get the chairs and table around and voila! It’s a dining room.”

“Spanky”, said Andy, “is this turning into some sort camping trip?”

“Well, I don’t know”, replied Spanky, looking at Andy, a little puzzled. “Is a getaway really that different?”

That got Andy thinking. “You know”, he said, “I don’t have a clue. I’ve really done nothing like this before.” He looked around again, and said: “I’ve kept a couple pictures from my place. Do you think I could tape them on a wall somewhere? It could add to the… atmosphere of the place.”

“My van is your van, mate”, replied Spanky happily.

They had an ale at the pub an ordered their usual large chips with the secret recipe dip that was yellow and spicy and tasted like anything, really. When they were fed, they drove to Andy’s place to load him up. Very quickly, they were ready to go.

“I don’t mind a little night driving, if you want to take next turn”, said Spanky. “I’d like to get a feeling of how the thing behaves on the road.”

“Go ahead”, replied Andy. So close to the actual getaway, he was feeling restless, bordering on paranoid, checking the sleeping cars in his old street for a clue they were being followed. He considered the usually nervous Spanky, who had been merry since the afternoon. It seemed like getting the van had been enough in his mind to put them out of harm’s way for good. He smiled. As always, Spanky was good for the mood.

They shut the doors firmly — the perks of old vehicles — and buckled up. Spanky chose a CD he liked and had the player eat it, then shut the passenger lights and let the engine start its heavy purring. While they were driving away from everything they knew, Andy hoped the uninspired punk-rock would not keep him from sleeping his share. After checking the mirrors one last time, he sighted, tired of himself. He pulled on a sleeping mask and quietly drifted off.

He slept soundly through the distorted chords and the melodious screaming. Spanky was at peace: engine running, a good band to stay awake, a new territory to drive through. He had stuffed the driver’s door with bags of crisps, and only stopped eating a few hours in, when his lips started to get small angry cuts from the salt.

One thing they had not really talk about, focused on the how and why of the getaway, was where to go. For now they would drive around a bit, at least until they were done leaving credit card clues along. Spanky was seriously thinking Spain again.

He had never been there. He could only imagine sand, some kind of sunny warmth and gorgeous women playing intricate acoustic guitar patterns. Booze and coconuts. He had no idea how much further south that was.

Soon Spanky reached a commercial area in the outskirts of a town directly north-west of their departure point; that should hopefully be enough to get the guys off-track. He stopped at a supermarket’s parking lot. The street lights were off, and the sun would not be rising until a few hours. Spanky stretched, yawned and woke up Andy. If they had to wait until morning, better go for the actual mattresses than car seats.

Spanky made himself snug, wrapped in his favorite blanket. Andy was already out and lightly snoring. In the complete darkness of the van’s metallic hull, Spanky thought:

“This is pretty homy.”