But it wouldn’t be permanent. Eventually fear would release her, would retreat as it always had before, and she’d be bold enough to again roam her own house as freely as her son now roamed the outside world.
That night, panting in her bed with no Relaxation Apparatus or other means to defend herself, she was accosted with the sense that there were parts of the story she’d been leaving out. The night before Charlie died. She remembered walking at Whalen’s request up the hill in a bedlam of sleet to his house. His father was away on business, so he brought her inside. They sat in his dressed-up parlor on separate chairs. He made no move to embrace, blaming the dusty work clothes he already had on, identical to Charlie’s, but she could see now that this was an excuse, that the private world between them had already started to close.
Whalen said that according to the crew who worked the day shift that morning, there’d come an odd pinging from one of the cables that held the grain cars aloft while they were flipped, like the high strings of ten violins plucked once. There’d been a heated debate over whether the entire counterweight mechanism had lowered an inch. Whalen said he’d told Charlie, but her brother wasn’t worried. “He’s determined to get this boat loaded before the freeze,” Whalen said. “He said it’s the only way he’ll get the money to take care of you when he leaves for school next year.”
Whalen took her hand and kissed her, and she told him she’d try. On her walk home she realized that with no engineer in Thunder Bay, they’d have to call one in from Duluth to check the cable. And even with an engineer, changing a cable of that gauge meant two days of downtime. If those two didn’t unload that boat tomorrow night, for another entire year she’d be bringing Charlie’s suppers, enduring his angry tirades, listening to his sad wheeze, all while sneaking around with Whalen as the secrecy of their meetings poisoned them for good.
She returned home and said nothing to her brother about the cable. The next day, she thanked him for all his hard work and packed him two of his favorite sandwiches. “You and Whalen better hurry if you want that boat loaded before the freeze,” she said, her eyes fixed on his dust-covered boots.
Yes, she’d done her part to doom Charlie, she admitted this now while weeping into her sheets. But please let her not fail Will. Let her not be selfish like she’d been that night. Her son was too full of life, too robust, too valuable, to be taken from her. But too valuable not to be.
How was it that to give a child life was to, on the very same day—even before you could lay eyes upon their slick, purple bodies—have already given them their death?
20
Whether it was because Titus had beaten his infection or was eating regularly or drinking unblighted water, or simply that the boys had grown accustomed to his pureed speech patterns, Will couldn’t say, but he was making more sense. “I been out of people practice,” he offered once when Will was fixing him a sandwich on his mother’s freshly thawed bread, which Titus always requested. “I got a hard time sticking words into things, sticking things into words.”
With his wounds mending and the swelling reduced, Titus could stand with crutches he’d fashioned from two oars, though he still seemed an inch from collapse. Jonah had eyed Titus’s recovery closely, as one would a rousing sea monster. Then the day came when Titus could ambulate with only one crutch. “Remember when you said that once he’s better and completely dangerous again, we’re out of here?” said Jonah. “Well, he’s better.”
“But what if Marcus comes back like he said?” said Will. “What if he gets the money for his boat and needs Titus to help him?”
“Marcus never said anything to me about a boat. So who knows if Titus is telling the truth. He may have hallucinated the whole thing,” Jonah said. “By now Marcus is either already dead or he’s left Thunder Bay forever. There’s not much room left in between.”
“He could still be hiding? Another shack, farther out? We could go exploring.”
“Have you got any letters from school lately?” Jonah said.
“My mom is afraid of mail, remember?”
“Well, I have. They’re sending me to Templeton next year—you know, the school for future inmates? They said I’m not participating and missed too many days. So I’m out.”
“What about medical school?” Will gasped.
Jonah shook his head, and his face flushed. “I don’t think Templeton is an institution that really screams doctor material on your application,” he said, his head hanging. “It’s mostly Indians there, so they’ll probably take their time before they ship you, too, Will. But it’ll happen soon enough if we don’t go back.”
“Let them. We’ll be together. You can teach yourself to be a doctor,” Will said. “I never liked school anyway. I only went there to find Marcus. But now Titus is our only lead. Something’s going to happen soon. I can feel it.”
“We did a good thing and took care of him. You were right about that. But anyone who talks about blood that much doesn’t have at least a little on their hands. What if in one of his moods Titus did something to Marcus and doesn’t even remember? And even if he didn’t, he’s still dangerous. So I’m out of here, and you’re coming with me.”
At the thought of losing his only friend, Will was swamped with a great weariness. He’d been investigating the Outside for so long, but he knew he still lacked the courage to face it alone.
“Okay,” Will said. “You’re right. He is more dangerous now. We can stake the place out, watch him from a distance.”
While they were packing up their tape player and tools and backpacks on the Distribution Floor, Titus crutched his way in. “Getting scarce,” he said nodding. “I do appraise you Icaruses tending to me while I was downtrodden. That was a queasy one. And I’ve liked spectating this little war you’ve manufactured for yourselves,” he said, gesturing to the ramps. “But I divine that you Icaruses might be interested in some extraneous travails before you scatter.”
“You mean work?” said Will. Beside him, Jonah crossed his arms.
“Here is three hundred dollars each,” Titus said, pulling six bills from his parka. “That’s for deeds you already completed. You boys can appropriate some new roller platforms.”
“Skateboards,” said Jonah as Will plucked the bills carefully. It was more cash than he’d held in his life, not counting his mother’s checkbook.
“And I’m financing each Icarus three hundred more when this new act’s through,” said Titus.
“What’s the job?” said Will.
“Stealing from people’s yards?” said Jonah, and Will shot him a look.
“Not succinctly,” Titus said. “A task Marcus didn’t stay put to see out. But I’ll have to exhibit it to you.”
Will dragged Jonah aside. “We can save the money for when we move to California to skate all year long,” Will whispered enthusiastically. “If anything happens, we’ll run. This could be what we’ve been waiting for.”
“I’m just curious when exactly you got crazier than Marcus?” Jonah said, shaking his head, running the money between his fingers, before he agreed.
They exited the workhouse through the boiler and began their climb down, during which Titus coughed and spat from every open window. After a few flights, Titus’s breathing grew increasingly pained, his face ashen as the elevator’s walls. At the bottom, Titus doubled over and muttered curses between long gasps. When he recovered, they passed an open grain chute that Jonah kicked a piece of rubble into. A chilling sound issued from deep below, like rushing water.