"I feel sorry for you, James. You're going to live to see your mistakes. I forgive you."
"To hell with you." I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger.
50
Orrie
"Jesus had it coming. The self-righteous always get nailed."
-SOLOMON SHORT
There was one last thing to do.
It was a three-hour drive. Not as long as I'd thought.
The old dude ranch was a burned out ruin. Some of the trees and shrubs in the area had also burned, but the fire hadn't spread.
I pulled into the big dirt clearing that served as a parking lot and killed the engine.
I switched the PA system on.
"Prrrt?" I said into the microphone. "Prrt?" The day was silent.
I opened the door of the van and climbed down out of it. I went mound to the back and got my torch. I came back toward the front of the vehicle.
Orrie was just coming up past the ruins of the barn. I knew it.
He'd come back here because he knew this place.
He was looking for his babies. He was looking for his family, his tribe.
"Orrie!" I shouted. "It's Jim! Come here!" I had to get him in range.
He stopped and looked at me. He cocked his eyes suspiciously. They swiveled independently of each other. They were large and black.
"Come on, Orrie-I'll take you to Jason!"
"Prrrt?" He asked.
"Prrt," I answered. I went down on one knee. "Come on, baby. Come to Jimmy."
It worked. Orrie slid toward me.
At the last moment, he hesitated. "Prr-rrrt?"
"It's all right, baby. I know. They all went away and left you alone. You're hungry, aren't you?"
He started to half-raise himself off the ground. A challenge? No, it was more of a question.
He lowered himself again. He decided he could trust me. He slid forward.
For half a moment, I was tempted-to put the torch down and go over and hug him and skritch him behind the eyes. For half a moment, I loved him again.
And then I brought the torch up anyway-and sent him straight to hell.
He gasped. He screeched in surprise and anger and betrayal. The flames enveloped him. They roared. He screamed. He writhed and rolled and shrieked and died. For a moment, his cries were almost human. For a moment, I almost regretted what I'd done.
But the feeling passed. The debt was paid.
I still hadn't found out what had happened to Tommy. I didn't think I ever would.
I put the torch in the back, and got back in the van. I backed away from Orrie's burning body.
I was on the main highway in twenty minutes.
I drove for two hundred miles before I finally pulled off to the side and stopped and let the tears come to my eyes.
I sat there and cried and was sorry I didn't have the courage to blow my own brains out.
After a while, I stopped crying. There were still more tears to come, a lot more, but there would be time.
It didn't matter. I knew what I was going to do for a while. I was going to drive and kill worms, drive and kill worms-until one of them killed me first.
It was something to do.
51
Grief
"lmmortality is easy. It's wearing your watch that makes you grow old.
(Also, cut out spicy foods after age one hundred and seventy.)"
-SOLOMON SHORT
And after we were through bargaining, we did grief.
Depression.
This was the most structured part of the process. Foreman had us move our chairs up against the walls; then he started us milling in a big circle in the center of the room. I was sent down from the platform to join the rest of the trainees for this part.
Some of them patted me as they passed. Others wouldn't look at me. Ashamed? Afraid? I didn't know.
We walked in a slow circle. Around and around and around. There was no sound but the sound of our moccasins on the floor. That was the instruction. Just walk. Don't try to figure it out. Don't think. Don't talk. Just walk in circles for a while and let your feelings come up to the surface.
I noticed that the lights were dimmer. Not a lot dimmer, but the room was no longer bright, no longer as clear.
"All right," said Foreman. "You can start letting some of it out. There're no prizes any more for holding it in. All the rage. All the grief. All the upset." He kept on talking.
"Remember all the times someone said to you. 'You're not good enough?' Or, 'I'm sorry, you came in second.' Or, 'Couldn't we just be friends?' Remember how you felt? Bring that up."
What was the point?
"Think about all the opportunities you've missed in your life. The girls or the boys you didn't proposition. The chances you didn't take. The stock you didn't invest in. The money you didn't save. The classes you cut, the tests you failed, the promotions you missed."
Some of the people around me were crying. A couple were wailing. Was that the point? To walk in circles and have a good cry?
"This is your life," said Foreman. "Let it out. Let it all out. Think about all the people you know who've died and left you behind. How do you feel about that? Don't you feel betrayed'? Mommy died and left you alone. Daddy went away. Grandpa and Gramma. Or maybe it was your brother or sister, or somebody you loved who left you. Maybe it was that one special person, the one you loved more than anybody, and after he or she left you, you knew that you would never love anyone again as much. No, you made that decision a long time ago. You're not going to let yourself get hurt again. You're going to hold it back so they can't get to you, right? Well, you win! Nobody can get to you now. You're all in this alone together. What's that feel like? What's the cost?"
The words bored into us, and we circled, and we cried. The tears were running down our cheeks. The sobs came choking up in my chest. I saw faces from my past. Kenny who killed himself and nobody ever knew why. Steve, who died in his car. Mike's dad, who was found on the patio. Ed, who was murdered. Gramma, who died in the nursing home. My dad--
I noticed they were all men. Well, not Gramma. But all the others. What did that mean? That I really didn't care about any woman enough to mourn her death?
I thought about my mom. Oh, God.
There were all those trips to the hospital when I was little, because of those constant ear aches. And my teeth. My mom used to point to my braces and brag, "Look, there's my new Cadillac." That was before Dad's first best-seller.
Goddammit!
I never had the chance to say goodbye-not to any of them! God-your universe is so damned unfair! I don't mind the dying. I mind the incompleteness of it all! I never had the chance to say goodbye!
All of them
I fell to my knees. I couldn't go on. It wasn't fair. I never had the chance to tell my mother how much I really loved her.
-and all the ones since. Shorty. Larry. Louis. Duke. Jon. Tommy. Alec. Holly.
I bawled. I raged. I sobbed. I choked.
Somebody was helping me to my feet. "Come on, Jim. Keep going. It's all right. Let it up. You're doing fine. Just keep walking."
There were two somebodies walking with me, one on each side. I leaned on them both.
"This is it," said Foreman's voice. He was omnipresent. "This is your life. This is how it turned out. It's written all over your face. Your whole body is an expression of who you are. Everything. How you walk, how you talk, how you carry yourself, how you present yourself to everyone else.