“When’s the last time that lizard of yours ate anything substantial?” Sturm asked.
“Last week,” Billy asked. “Fed it a pig for a show down in San Jose.”
But no one else moved. No one wanted to be seen as interfering in a fight.
The Komodo, making no sudden movements, moving almost lazily, clamped half-inch teeth on Mr. Noe’s upper arm, puncturing the triceps and biceps like wood screws through jello, and jerked him sideways.
Mr. Noe’s shriek echoed around the bare cement walls and into the sky. His right arm splashed uselessly in the water as the Komodo Dragon dragged him deeper in the water. It sank its claws into his chest and pulled at the left arm. Mr. Noe’s scream came out in bubbles as the teeth shredded the muscles from his upper arm down to his wrist, like ripping off a wet sock. It bit down harder and pulled, taking the middle finger as it tore the flesh away.
The tiger crept forward.
The dragon went after Mr. Noe’s armpit. His legs scissored frantically, like a fly whose wings had been pulled off. The Komodo held him down and kept tearing at the soft flesh under his arm. Bloody swatches of the white suit floated in the algae. After a while, the legs stopped moving.
The tiger finally settled down and just watched the Dragon eat.
Frank wished it had lasted longer.
* * * * *
After the Komodo Dragon had gorged itself on Mr. Noe, there wasn’t much left. A few scraps of ragged muscle and bone left in a trail, with a few larger chunks inside pelvis and the skull, but not even enough to bury him in a child’s coffin. The Komodo Dragon was an especially efficient killer and scavenger, and broke off chunks of bones and joints and swallowed them without any trouble at all. It kept Mr. Noe’s ribcage and backbone with it as it skittered along back to its corner, ignoring the white tiger. When it had become obvious that nothing else was going to happen, the men had drifted away on their own.
Sturm watched the Komodo Dragon and Siberian white tiger for a while. The tiger had moved in and taken the pelvis and leg. Most of it was mostly just bone and ligaments; the Komodo had focused primarily on the other leg. But there was some tissue left, stubbornly clinging to the bone down near Mr. Noe’s toes, and the tiger happily settled into place and gnawed on the bones.
* * * * *
“Where were you?” Sturm demanded. Except for Sturm and the clowns, the pool was empty. Billy and Theo waited near the pool entrance.
Frank had stayed. Sturm had seen him, and Frank didn’t see the point in hiding; he knew he wouldn’t make it out the valley without one of the clowns or even Theo tracking him down and shooting him in the back. Frank stood. “I was tending to a wounded animal.”
“And what animal was that?”
“Petunia. The Glouck’s dog.”
“The Glouck’s dog.”
“Yeah. She’d been wounded. I thought it was my job to take care of wounded animals. After all, I am the vet in this town.”
“Let’s go for a ride,” Sturm said.
* * * * *
They went out to Sturm’s pickup and Theo handed his father a blanket. Sturm wrapped it around his shoulders, and climbed up into the pickup bed. He settled into a La-Z-boy and gestured for Frank to climb up and sit on the wheel well. Jack followed Frank and Theo slammed the tailgate. Theo hopped in the front, started the engine, and drove slowly through town.
The town now knew it was dead. Bullet holes pierced every bare window. All the streetlights had been shot out. The few cars still left on the streets were riddled with more holes than a colander. They passed a pile of blackened husks of hyenas, still smoldering in the intersection of Third and Main Street. The strip of dried blood from the sheep appeared almost purple in the headlights.
“You ever read much about the ancient Egyptians, Frank?” Sturm asked.
“In school. Long time ago,” Frank said, resting his elbows, scanning the town on his right while keeping an eye Jack and Sturm.
“You ever read about how they buried kings?”
“In the pyramids. The tombs.”
“Exactly,” Sturm cried, delighted, as if Frank was a dog that just learned not to piss on the floor. “And what did they put in there with them?”
“Treasure,” Frank said. If Sturm wanted to play a game, Frank would play along.
“Yes! All of it buried, supposedly forever. But not just wealth, slaves too. And animals. They took everything with them on their journey across the river of Death. Everything. And they weren’t the only culture throughout history. Look at the Indians. They were buried with weapons, tobacco, everything they needed once they reached the other side.” Sturm reached out to the cool rushing air, cupped a little of it, let if drift threw his fluttering fingers. “This town, this is my tomb. And all of this, this destruction, this sacrifice…it is mine.”
Frank looked up at Sturm. “Are you saying that you are taking all of this,” Frank let his fingers flutter in the air for a quick moment, coming dangerously close to the edge of mocking Sturm without actually going over. “Everything, over with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d say you oughta have your head reexamined.” Frank gave his crooked grin.
Jack punched him once. It was fast. He was smart, and came in under Frank’s left jaw, where the vision wasn’t the best, snapping Frank’s head back so far he almost fell out.
Frank spit blood; Jack’s punch had pinched the left side of his tongue between his teeth.
Jack sat back just as quickly. “You mind your manners. You weren’t born here. You don’t know shit.”
“I thought you might understand, having been so close to death, yourself,” Sturm told Frank. He sounded genuinely hurt. “To get that close, to peer into the abyss…well, it makes ideas that you may have once sneered at seem suddenly possible. Maybe even hopeful.”
Frank didn’t say anything. He was done playing. He wasn’t worried about himself. Pain didn’t matter anymore. The only thing he was doing was keeping Sturm and the fellas occupied, giving Annie and her mothers a chance to get out to Sturm’s barn and take the whole damn safe.
Theo stopped at the southern edge of town, where Main Street officially turned back into Highway 61. Frank’s long black car was parked on the side of the road, Pine behind the wheel and Chuck in the passenger seat.
“Son, I’m afraid I have no choice.” Sturm stood and looked at the stars while Theo let down the tailgate. “I hereby terminate this contract we have here. Your services are no longer needed.”
Frank slowly climbed down, followed by Jack, joining Pine and Chuck in the wash of the red taillights. Sturm looked down at Frank. “I think you’re smart enough to understand a few things here. I don’t have to let you go. Shouldn’t be a big surprise that Theo wanted to feed your ass to the cats, after what you did. Fact is, nobody here wanted to leave you alive.”
Pine and Chuck looked at the ground, but Jack met Frank’s stare with an intensity that dared Frank to challenge him. Theo jumped up and sat on the tailgate, next to his father’s feet and happily swung his legs back and forth. He nursed a beer; he didn’t like the taste, but wanted everyone to see him drinking.
“But, for some goddamn reason,” Sturm continued, “I like you. You got yourself a gift there. Never seen anybody handle animals the way you did. But on the other hand, never seen anybody with a talent for dealing out death quite like you. You were one handy motherfucker to have around for an operation like this. But you fucked up and cost me money. Let your emotions get in the way. You embarrassed me tonight. So you got two options here. You can leave, and never come back. Or you can stay here and suffer the consequences.”