Run Baby Run by Michael Allen Zell

their sweat pants. Hutch didn't need to push through the other side of the crowd since they quickly opened up space for him, with Olson following behind. They were steps from Toulouse.
    "You got it?" Hutch asked.
    "Yeah, yeah. I can't believe it," Olson replied.
    "Keep walkin'. Box full?"
    "Yeah, totally full. I can't believe how easy it was."
    At the intersection, Hutch took a long look down Bourbon both ways. All was well. Not so when he checked down Toulouse toward the river.
    He and Olson were in the midst of other people, but they were spotted by Johnny and Big T, midway in the block, still making the rounds for weekly pick-ups. Hutch's response was suspicious and he knew it. He saw them register surprise. He also knew the jeep was almost two blocks away.
    Olson was initially angry when Hutch grabbed the beer case from him, but then he saw the urgency of the older man's eyes.
    "Mr. C's men. They saw us," sputtered Hutch.
    Their pace quickened significantly, though they couldn't full-on run due to the weight of money, even with Hutch carrying it.
    They took the sidewalk on the right, lucky that Johnny and Big T were also weighed down by money that couldn't be discarded. The two Sicilians had less weight to carry, though, so they were making up ground.
    Five observant streetcorner hustlers saw the chased and chasers, sussed out at a glance who to help, and meandered into the intersection. Johnny and Big T were awkwardly walk-jogging down the middle of the street at this point.
    "Get the fuck outta the way," the two barked, unable to use their hands to clear a way through the cluster.
    "'Scuse;" "Oh, yes sir;" "Who you think you talkin' to?" "Sorry, mister;" and "Lookit them sad shoes;" were the too-casual replies. As soon as the Sicilians passed, the common good also passed, and the five men went back to giving each other the evil eye.
    By this time, Hutch and Olson were at Dauphine. They veered off to the right and stayed in the street.
    Hutch was bent forward at the waist, both arms around the money, focused ahead with determination. No more looking back.
    Olson's eyes were filled with fear. He was moving his arms like many untrained joggers. Flailing sideways like a frightened chicken. No efficiency of motion.
    "What the fuck you doin'?" Hutch asked through deep breaths.
    Olson whimpered back. "What do you mean? I'm running for my life."
    "Get them arms down. You pop me with that elbow, I'm leavin' you for the Eye-talians."
    "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Olson replied subserviently, meaning not only his lack of form but also the whole scam to get the skims. He continued running the same way.
    They didn't know it, but Big T was the only one behind them. Johnny had continued up Toulouse to Burgundy to retrieve his Ford Explorer.
    Midway in the block from Hutch and Olson, a group of eight men in their early 30's loudly commandeered the street. They were in the French Quarter for all night drinking and dancing. Five were wearing polo shirts of various types, all tucked in sensible slacks. They had hoped to conquer women at the Gold Mine Saloon but were reduced to walking like two-year-olds. They were drunk. They were a short drive to home. They were from Metairie.
    "How many... tell me... how many Flaming Dr. Pepper's I drank?" one of them slurred to the others, who had formed a loose line across Dauphine.
    Hutch and Olson were about five car lengths away from them.
    "Comin' through. Make room," Hutch urged.
    Olson nodded vigorously, his flailing hands still up in the 10 and 2 driving position, his elbows remaining in their sideways angle.
    The suburbanites paid no attention to this, thinking if at all, that the jogging men would yield before reaching them.
    Hutch called out again, louder. "Get the fuck out the way!"
    Two car lengths now.
    Olson, at his right, started to ask, "What are we... ," but saw in his peripheral vision that Hutch was lowering his head to prepare himself. In his own way, Olson did the same.