“Still in the air,” Emily said.
“Probably for the best. He shouldn’t see this. Unbelievable. I know I’ve given you feds some heat, and I’m sorry for that. I know how hard you guys work. I know how bad it feels when one of your family gets taken from you.”
He quickly handed Emily a stack of bills.
“Passed the hat around. Get her poor kids some ice cream or something from us, OK? Tell them the LAPD isn’t going to stop until we drop every last one of the people who hurt their mother.”
“Thanks,” Emily said. “I will.”
“Hey, Bassman,” I said as the big guy walked away.
“What is it, Bennett?”
“Maybe you’re not such an asshole after all,” I said.
He smiled, shrugged.
“Just don’t let it get around,” he said.
CHAPTER 68
It was hot when they woke that morning, and even hotter now at eleven as they went across the scrubby, grass-filled field under the pitiless sun.
Brian Bennett slapped at a monster horsefly that stung at his sweating neck. Man, he was starting to hate the country. The biggest lie in the world was how nature was supposed to be so invigorating and healthy. If there was one thing that he had learned out here, it was that nature was nothing but hot, dirty, smelly, and boring beyond the realm of human tolerance.
“Shit!” Brian yelled as the horsefly stung him again.
“Cursin’ now, Brian? Saints preserve us!” Eddie said, mimicking Seamus’s Irish accent to a tee.
Brian turned around to catch Eddie smiling, a napkin sticking out of his nose from a nosebleed he’d gotten about a quarter mile from the house.
Brian laughed despite himself. You had to hand it to the kid. He just kept at it 24-7. Jabbering, doing funny voices, making fun of things-himself, mostly-like some clown or court jester or something. A fool, Brian thought. That’s what he is. My brother Eddie, the fool. And he meant it in the best way possible.
“Quick question,” Ricky said from behind Eddie. “Why are we wandering the earth like a band of postapocalyptic nomads again? I hate to say this, big bro, but this Bataan death trek is quickly starting to teeter into the suck category.”
“You can go back any time you want, wimp,” Brian said angrily. “That goes for you, too, Eddie. I never asked you to follow me around. I couldn’t care less what you guys do.”
“Pardon me, but wasn’t it you who woke us up at the crack of dawn, Brian?” Ricky said. “I distinctly remember someone who looked a heck of a lot like you saying, ‘Get up, you idiot. It’s time to go.’ ”
“It’s OK,” Brian heard Eddie say to Ricky. “Brian’s just having one of his Brian moments. In other words, our big brother is going completely nuts.”
You can say that again, Brian thought as he trudged across the not-so-fruited California plain. What fifteen-year-old wouldn’t go nuts being exiled out here in the desert, like someone from the Bible?
And, just like a nut, he had woken that morning inspired to accomplish an important mission. He was going to walk until he found the river that Mr. Cody had driven them to a few weeks before. Not for any real reason. Because it’s there, Brian thought as he paced over the seemingly endless plain of dry land.
He thought he knew the general direction, but they were three hours into the hike, with no water anywhere. Has to be around here somewhere, he thought, sheepishly squinting up at the sky.
He hadn’t told Mary Catherine or Seamus about his plans. Hadn’t asked permission. Hadn’t even left a note. He knew it was slightly messed up to just get up and leave without saying anything, but that was pretty much the point. Dad was gone now. They were stuck out here, with no end in sight, and he was simply sick of it. The cows, the homeschooling lessons with the little twerps. Hell, he should just keep walking east until he made it back to Manhattan. Back to his friends. Back to his real life.
“I don’t know, but I’ve been told,” sang Eddie after a while, “this stupid walk is getting old! Sound off!”
“One, two,” Ricky sang.
“Wait, wait,” Brian said. “Shut up! Listen!”
They stopped in their tracks. There was a faint rushing sound coming from beyond the broken, distant tree line off to their right. They looked at each other for a beat, then started running. Brian in the lead, Ricky second, and Eddie dead last.
Brian stopped raising dust as he got to the ridge of the sandy riverbank. He just stood there, smiling. He stared at the sun twinkling silver off the fast-rushing water, stared at the green-brown surface of it, curving through the dry landscape like a ribbon of living glass. The slightly alkaline scent of the water was strong in the dry air. He’d never really smelled water before, at least not clean water.
I’ve done it, Brian thought. Set a goal for myself and accomplished it. A pointless one, maybe, but still. It felt pretty awesome.
“Hey, you did it! You actually found it, Pocahontas!” Eddie said, giving him a high five.
“Of course I found it,” Brian said nonchalantly as he leaped off the berm and down the sand, toward the rushing water.
CHAPTER 69
They were splashing around and skipping rocks twenty minutes later, when they saw the kayak come around the bend upriver.
The aging hippie in it smiled as he expertly paddled over to the shore beside them. At first, Brian got a little scared because the guy sort of looked like the Unabomber. But when he stepped out of the Day-Glo-yellow kayak twenty feet away, he was wearing rubber fishing waders that went up to his chest.
Just some harmless old nut fishing, Brian told himself.
The hippie lifted a palm after he beached the kayak.
“How,” he said like an Indian, then threw back his head and laughed. “Sorry. Always wanted to say that,” he said with a twinkling, blue-eyed wink. “Name’s McMurphy. Pleased to meet you, boys. You must be new around here. What brings you intrepid wanderers out this far into the great beyond? I don’t see any fishing poles. Let me guess. Fame, fortune, and adventure?”
“Boredom, actually,” Eddie said.
The man threw back his head again and cackled some more.
“Boredom,” McMurphy said, tapping a finger against his forehead. “That’s a good one, son. Boredom will work fine, too.”
Wow, Brian thought, staring at the guy’s wild eyes, his wild gray hair. This guy was pretty nutty. Too many tabs of acid? he wondered. He reminded him of someone. An old sixties actor. Dennis someone. He seemed harmless enough, at least.
Maybe this is what happens to you if you stay out here too long, Brian thought, glancing at the coot. He almost felt like asking him if he was once in the witness protection program, too.
“Holy cow! There you are!” came a shrill voice as they heard some rustling in the trees up the bank behind them.
They looked up to see Juliana at the top of the sandy berm. She was sitting atop one of Mr. Cody’s horses, Spike, wearing riding boots like she was the Queen of England. Of course, Brian thought. They always let Miss Perfect do everything cool. Juliana could do anything she wanted.
“Everybody is looking for you,” Juliana said, staring at Brian. “What the heck are you doing?”
“Hello there, little lady. McMurphy’s the name,” the hippie said with a courtly little bow. “These boys with you?”
Juliana nodded.
“I was about to ask them if they wanted to learn how to fly-fish. Love to teach you, too. Why don’t you tie up that noble steed there on a branch and come on down? What’s his name?”
“Spike,” Juliana said.
“Spike. Well, of course. Fine name for a fine horse. Speaking of which, what’re your names?”