“You want some root beer? I got you a root beer.”
“Root beer. Sure. What’s going on, Stu?”
Stu didn’t answer. He held out the paper cup and straw, and Roscoe took a long sip. The ice had melted, making the root beer watery, but it tasted as good to him as champagne. For the next few minutes Roscoe couldn’t do anything but eat and drink.
“Man,” he said when it was done, “I give that burger a ten out of ten. Thank you.”
“Sit back now.”
Stu started the car again and pulled out into the traffic.
“Where we going, Stu?”
“I told you. The train station. Ship you home.”
“You’re going the wrong way. I’ve been to Dallas before. I know where the train station is.”
“We’re going to the suburban one. Less crowded.”
“Uh-huh. Stu, are you aware there is root beer all over your back seat? Blood, too. Looks like someone had a hell of an accident back here.”
“That’s right. Someone had a hell of an accident.”
They passed turnoffs for Plano and Rockwall. Roscoe hitched forward a little on the seat.
“Where’s Clem, Stu?”
“Who knows? Took the day off.”
“Took the day off, huh? He know people in Dallas?”
“Search me. I don’t know Clem that well.”
“No? You seemed to get along pretty good. I figured you two for-well, not old buddies exactly-but long-time colleagues, so to speak.”
“We’ve known each other awhile.”
“So would this be Clem’s blood on the back seat here?”
“Stop talking.”
They drove another ten minutes, then Stu exited onto a boulevard that ran under an expressway. It was down to one lane owing to construction. He veered around a ROAD CLOSED sign and pulled off onto an undeveloped area that was just scrub grass and sandy soil. He switched off the car, and there was only the clatter and hiss of the expressway overhead.
Stu got out and took a shovel out of the trunk. He opened the back door. “Okay, Jeopardy. Now we dig.”
“You expect me to dig my own grave?”
“Don’t panic. It’s not for you.”
“Why am I here, if it’s not for me? What happened to the train station?”
“It’s not for you, I said. It’s for Clem.”
“Uh-huh. Zig killed him?”
“Just get out and start digging.”
“Start digging or you’ll what? Frankly, Stu, I don’t see a lot of downside if I just sit right here in this car. What’re you gonna do, shoot me?”
Stu looked off in the distance and sighed. “I knew you were gonna say something like that.” He folded his arms and looked up at the sky-or where the sky would have been if they weren’t underneath an expressway. The overhead traffic sounded like a waterfall.
“Anyway, how am I supposed to dig with my hands cuffed behind my back?”
“I’ll cuff ’em in front.”
“And then I come at you with the shovel. Bash you over the head.”
“And I shoot you. Okay, fine. You’re right. That doesn’t work either.” Stu leaned on the shovel, thinking. “I could shoot you in the balls.”
“You think that’s going to improve my digging? Anyway, I don’t think you’re like that. It was Zig and Clem took my toes. No, no. You want a grave dug, pal, you’re gonna dig it yourself. I’ll just sit right here and watch.”
“Fuck,” Stu said. He flung his jacket into the car and started digging. Even though the expressway afforded some protection, a stiff wind had come up and was blowing rain all over him, though not enough to soften the ground. He soon started cursing.
“So what’d he kill him for?”
“Who you talking about?”
“Why’d Zig kill Clem?”
“You said that. I never said he did.”
“You said the grave was for Clem. Why’d he kill him?”
“Because Clem did something he shouldn’t have. Zig doesn’t like people who don’t listen.”
“So what’d Clem do that he shouldn’t have?”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t-but you should. You’re the one gotta work with the guy. What’d Clem do that got him the death sentence?”
“He was supposed to keep an eye on a certain party, and he didn’t do it.” Stu’s words came out between jabs of his shovel. “And now we don’t know where that party happens to be. I recognize it may seem like an overreaction.”
“Oh, no, Stu. Anybody’d do the same.”
“I admit Zig can be unreasonable.”
“Well, here’s a question for you-not trivial, for once. Here’s a guy shoots someone he works with for making a mistake. And here’s you. You saw him do it. What possible reason could Zig have for letting you live?”
“He respects me. He didn’t respect Clem.”
“Uh-huh. It seems pretty clear you don’t need me anymore. Which means you know where Max’s score is, or you know who knows. Are you betting your personal well-being on the notion that Zig can’t wait to share that money with you?”
“I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to sweet-talk me.”
“Yes, I am. But that doesn’t make what I say any less true.”
“So you think I should let you go. On the possibility that Zig’s gonna kill me.”
“More than a possibility, Stu. Stop digging, for God’s sake. You and I have been around the block. We know how people work. Right away I figured you three guys out. You tell me if I’m wrong. There’s you: tough guy, get-ahead guy, but not a berserker, not a thug. Right?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then there’s Clem. Not the smartest guy in the world. A follower. Kinda scared. He’ll do stuff he knows is wrong, real wrong, if it keeps him in good with the boss. Might even kill, if push comes to shove. Right?”
“Yeah, I’d say that pretty much covers Clem.”
“And Zig. Zig is a fucking psycho. Zig does not care how far he has to go to get what he wants. Knew it the minute you guys grabbed me. There’s no connecting with that guy. He’s missing whatever it is makes one human being recognize another. That’s why he formed the Subtractors. That’s why he works this way.”
“Subtractors?” Stu laughed and started digging again. “That’s a good one. You thought we were the goddamn Subtractors?”
“I can’t imagine what gave me that idea.”
“We’re not the Subtractors. The Subtractors are just a legend, man. The Subtractors are just a scary story.”
“Tell that to my fucking feet, Stu.”
“Naw, Zig just liked the legend, that’s all. Everybody’s heard about this mythical gang-why not live off their reputation? Act like you’re this invincible force of darkness, who’s to know?”
“So if you’re not the Subtractors, what’s the deal with Zig’s nipples? Being chained up in a bathroom, I got to see more than I wanted.”
“Word is, he was in D block at Sing Sing. He was in a beef, owed a lot of dough, and he was gonna get hit. So he did it to himself to get transferred.”
“Like I say-a guy who’ll do anything. So, if you think he’s going to let you live after all this, you’re out of your mind.”
Stu’s shovel clanked against rock. “Fuck.”
“You beginning to see my way of thinking?”
“No, no. I’m just hitting bedrock here.” Stu’s face was glistening with sweat. He was about two feet down. “What’s in it for me if I let you go? What am I supposed to do for work? Guy’s gotta make a living.”
“I don’t know. I could put a word in with Max. If he knows you saved my ass, he might do something for you.”
“I worked with Max one time. He was good for a laugh, but he’s past it, man. Way past it.” Stu had to rest on his shovel again, his face was dripping. “You think he might cut me in?”
“He doesn’t even cut me and Pookie in. But you’ll get some work. Max is a good guy to have on your side. Knows everybody.”
“Fuck it.” Stu threw down the shovel. “Okay, you convinced me. How about you help me dump Clem and then we hit the road together?”