I have had, in my long life, something of an anger-management problem. On my good days, I can walk away from it. Other days I seem to clutch at it like an addict, and like an addict, I’m ashamed of what happens afterwards. Over the years I’ve lost the respect of close friends, and more than once I almost lost Mags because of the things I’ve done. People can like you if you stand up for yourself, or someone else, but only up to a point. There’s a line that you can’t cross without becoming a monster and a savage in their eyes. It’s hard to earn that respect back, and sometimes you can’t, especially to yourself, so I try my best to keep a leash on it.
I grew up angry, but when I came back from the war, I realized that it had gotten a lot worse overseas. That I had gotten a lot worse. I’ve felt pretty proud over the last thirty years that I had matured, maybe come to terms with it. Turns out, that’s only because hiding out on my farm I haven’t had anyone to get mad at. It was humiliating to lose control and look like an ass in front of Anne, and I swore that it wouldn’t happen again. It was an old promise, worn and familiar.
I flicked on the light, and threw my keys and wallet on the dresser. The room was small and shabby and smelled faintly of cigarettes. It came complete with matted brown carpet that looked more like it was growing out of the floor than covering it, and a sagging twin bed sporting a polyester floral comforter that was probably dirtier than the carpet. I’ve stayed in worse places, but not in recent memory.
I walked to the tiny bathroom and stripped off my clothes. They reeked of sweat and smoke. I filled the sink and scrubbed them as best I could with hot water and hand soap, then squeezed them out and laid them across the air conditioner vents to dry.
I took a long shower, and the heat seemed to draw the fatigue of a long day and night up out of my bones and into my muscles, making me heavy and dragging me down.
I got out and dried myself on the thin, sandpapery towel, then slid the bedspread off onto the floor and lay down on top of the sheets. At least those were probably washed between guests. I felt leaden and absolutely still as I listened to the muffled drone of the little air conditioner.
In my mind I could hear Shadroe Decatur’s slow drawl. You gonna get that little girl killed, Sarge. She ain’t never seen a hard corner in her entire life and you’re gonna bring her right into the grinder with you.
“Everybody starts out looking soft on the outside,” I said out loud.
“But you look under that, and I bet there’s steel in this one. I’m sure Patrick saw to that.” Shad’s memory was silent, but I could picture his weasel face pinched in disapproval.
I closed my eyes and tried not to remember how he died. In seconds I was fast asleep.
When I woke up, it was late afternoon, and I was starving. My clothes were dry and stiff and smelled a hell of a lot better. I put them on thinking about steak and knowing that Anne must be as hungry as I was.
I pocketed my key and stepped out into the cool wind and butter-yellow afternoon sunlight. I stood in front of her door for the long moments necessary for me to kick down my pride and knocked.
She answered immediately. Her hair looked damp, but she was dressed. The bed was rumpled and I noticed that she had also distrusted the comforter. She had folded it neatly and set it on the chair by the door.
“Hey,” I said, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t look angry.
“Hey.”
“You get some rest?”
“Yes. You?”
I nodded and rubbed at my stubbly chin. I needed to remember to buy a razor. And clothes. I took a deep breath. “Look, Anne. I’m sorry about earlier. How about I spring for dinner to make it up to you?”
Her lips twitched up at the corners. “That must have been pretty hard to get out, you looked like you were going to choke for a minute there.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did. Now it’s my turn. It’s been a really bad couple of days for me, even before I came out to your house. I don’t normally bite people’s heads off like that.” She ducked inside and grabbed her purse and keys, and then stepped past me towards the car. “But you were still totally wrong.”
“That’s big of you, thanks.”
We wound up at a steakhouse a few miles from the motel. The large dining room was mostly empty since dinner was still two hours away for most folks. I asked for a table by the window so I could keep an eye on the car and got it with a gracious smile.
Anne snapped her menu shut and said, “I’m picking the next place.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a vegetarian, and so far you’ve picked a burger joint and a steakhouse, that’s why.”
“Well why didn’t you say something when we drove up?”
She shrugged. “Maybe you’re buying dinner because you’re sorry, and maybe I’m letting you drag me to a steakhouse because I’m sorry.”
“They say you can tell a good compromise because nobody is happy.”
She laughed. “So true.”
To honor her gift to me, and because I didn’t know how long it was going to be before I saw another steak, I ordered a giant porterhouse, rare. She made do with a salad and some side dishes, which made me feel a little guilty, but it passed pretty quickly.
When the steak came it was bigger than my head and nearly hanging off the sides of the plate. The outside was seared to a perfect crust and the inside was reddish-pink and so tender I almost didn’t need a knife. I went in and didn’t come up for air until half of it was gone.
“So, about what we’re doing,” I said when I slowed down. “We need to catch a plane to North Carolina to see Henry. I’d like to do it tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
“Why not just call him?”
“I’ll call him. But we need to see him in person, too.”
“To get his piece, right?”
I chewed a piece of steak instead of answering.
“I can’t afford a plane ticket, Abe. Why don’t we just drive down there? It’ll just take a couple of days, we can even drive in shifts and make in one long day if you want.”
“No time. If those men left from my house or the retirement home and started driving, they could be there tomorrow. It’s a little over a twenty-hour drive from my place. We have to get there first. Don’t worry about the money, I’ll buy the tickets. I have some money saved up.”
“You think they’re already heading there? Right now?”
“I’ve been thinking about the timing, between the nursing home and my farm. If those two groups of men had left at the same time from somewhere west of here, they would have arrived at the home, and then at my farm at just the right times.
“Now, if that’s true, maybe there’s more than just two groups. Why not one group for each piece, each setting off from the same location at the same time? If so, then Henry’s group has already been traveling the distance from the farm to Henry’s house since last night. That means that they could arrive as early as tomorrow evening.”
“Well, couldn’t they already be there? I mean, what if they took a plane, too?”
I shook my head. “They can’t pass for regular people in good light, or close up. No way they could make it through an airport or sit on a plane.”
“They looked pretty normal to me. For crazed murderers, anyway.”
“It’s the worms. They’re never still, and they go everywhere. We saw a couple of ‘em in the daytime once, and you could see these thin little lines curling and wiggling under the skin of their faces and on their arms. I swear I saw something flick past the inside of an eye once, too.” Anne shuddered and looked away from her plate.
“Their color isn’t right, either. Plus, you saw their eyes back at the home. At the very least, they look crazy and drugged up. You think the airline folks will let them get on a plane like that? No, they’ll have to drive it, so we have a chance to get there first. Especially since they’ll have to steal gas or swap cars on the way, which might slow them down.”