The insistent voice seemed to be coming from another planet.
At last—thick breath bursting from his lungs—he muttered, “Yeah, yeah, I’m all right.” He lay on his back on the platform. The shouting continued, and he turned on his side. “Quit yelling. I said I was all right.” The air he drew seemed filtered through blood. “Just got sick for a minute.”
“I’m coming up.”
“No. Stay down there.” He sat up, ashamed. Of course, Barry was right. All the years, all the drinking—the body in which he’d taken such pride had betrayed him. Or rather he’d betrayed it. Panting heavily, he got to his feet and leaned on the rail until his whirling vision steadied.
Distant pines clawed the horizon. Astonished, he turned around: an ocean of harsh green. A dim corner of his mind tried to estimate the acreage. Endless, it swept to the bristling sky, and except for the police car directly below, nothing man-made could be seen. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal.
“You okay up there? What the hell are you doing? I didn’t mean what I said before. About Anna. You gonna make me drag myself up there?”
Steve started down. “Would you shut up already?” He expected to be shaking when he reached the bottom. Instead, with his feet on the ground, he felt strangely calm.
“Asshole! What, were you just goofing off up there? I thought you had a heart attack or something.” Barry stomped toward the car.
After a moment, Steve followed, slowly at first, more acutely conscious of the woods than he’d ever been. Every muscle in his body ached. And it felt good. “You know,” he said, catching up. “When I went over there, Athena said something about wanting to talk to us again, about what she saw that night.” As though suddenly distracted, he stopped and looked away into the pines. “She mention it to you?”
“You ain’t gonna start all that crazy shit again, I hope.”
Steve didn’t flinch from the sudden hate that blazed in his partner’s eyes. He drew a deep breath.
“No, shut up,” Barry cut off his response. “I don’t want to hear about it. Anyway, you know what Frank said. He’s the boss, and he told you to lay off—he don’t want no more crazy talk.”
“I’m pretty hot about that too. Seems to me, somebody must’ve gone to Frank with a story to get him to jump on the thing the way he did.”
“Don’t give me that,” Barry sneered. “I know what you’re hot about.”
He only restrained himself with an effort. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe you just don’t care what happens out here. Some cop. Maybe all you care about is what the troopers might uncover. I got ears, Barry. How many hot cars has Frank Buzby got out here right now? You think I don’t know who torched that place?”
“Big fucking deal! I don’t see you resigning,” he laughed. “What’s your goddamn problem, Steve? Wouldn’t she give you none when you went over there?”
At the last instant, Steve managed to pull the punch.
Even so, Barry staggered back against the car. His teeth turned red. Instantly, he started swinging. “You fucker!” His knee caught Steve in the groin.
Doubled over, Steve tried to dodge or block the worst of the blows. “Stop it!” Then the muscles of his back bulged and flattened as he struck. Quickly, efficiently, he pinned the heavier man against the car, twisting his arm behind him. “I said, knock it off!”
Barry grunted, seemed to relax, and Steve eased off. Barry drew his gun. Steve hit him in the gut. As Barry crumpled, gasping, Steve disarmed him…then just went wild.
Barry clung to Steve, tried to pull himself up as punches hammered into his stomach. His face turned to the sky.
Steve grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. The face clotted to a deep purple. Hands clawed wildly.
Steve threw him to the rough soil, and small infantile noises broke from Barry’s open mouth. Steve bent and retrieved his partner’s gun from where it had fallen.
Choking, Barry looked up. Their eyes met.
Steve turned away. He tossed the gun through the open window onto the backseat and got in.
Barry knew he’d never been closer to death. He’d seen it in Steve’s eyes. The dust cloud from the car still settled, gagging him, as he lay in the dirt and waited for his breath to return. His throat hurt so bad he couldn’t swallow. He rolled onto his side and curled up. The pain diminished, though the side of his face continued to throb. Finally able to rise, he brushed away some of the sand and stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. He peered down the road after the car.
That son of a bitch had wanted to kill him, Barry thought with something like admiration. Who would have guessed old Steve had it in him? Wondering how long it would be before Steve came back, he massaged first his arm, then his throat. He knew Steve would come back soon as he cooled off. In the meantime, he was stuck out here. Nowhere to walk to. Not much chance of a ride. Staggering slightly, he turned and wandered toward the shade of the fire tower.
The cicadas had begun in the surrounding woods. Glinting red along their tops, fir trees began to sink into the gloom. Pacing around the tower, he winced and spat blood on the sand.
The last of the few patrons having left without her noticing, Athena sat alone in the diner. What remained of the daylight failed to penetrate the murky windows, and Sims never turned the lights on this early. To think she’d actually come here to cheer up.
At the grill, old Sims scraped grease into an iron trough with a spatula and glanced over at her. He wiped his hands on the apron.
“Want something else?” She jerked her head up. Sims looked down at her, yellow teeth gleaming in the poor light. His right hand held a steaming coffee server. “Some more?” She nodded, and he poured the stale coffee.
Suddenly, he laid his hand across her arm. “I just want you to know how much I always liked Wally, an how sorry I was to hear ’bout Lonny.” His grip was trembling and clammy. “Some folks ’round here, they says things ’bout you, but I always stick up for you. Just the other day, I says to…”
He smelled dead, and the T-shirt was a horror. She nodded, trying to endure this politely. He stroked her arm with two fingers.
And then his words seemed to come to her from a long way off. Catching only snatches, hints of sound, she struggled to listen. “…nice girl…little getting use to is all…” The pressure pounded in her ears. What’s happening? It throbbed behind her eyes. What’s happening to me? The churning started low in her intestines and burst hotly upward like a flare. As she hunched over in the booth, Sims’s voice rose thinly in shock and concern. Through her swirling agony, she sensed the physical world waver and ripple about her. Then the rending of her bowels ceased as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind no trace of nausea.
“Barry?” Steve looked around.
He’d gotten tired of honking the horn and had left the car door open and the motor running.
“Yo, Barry?” He walked around to the other side of the tower. Where could he be? He wondered if someone could have happened along and given him a ride. But he must have known Steve would come back for him.
The last of the twilight faded rapidly, and he stood under the tower, wondering what to do.
Something dark dripped onto his hand. And again. He looked up. He stared a long time, only slowly comprehending what he saw. An unraveled version of Barry dangled from the platform overhead.
Monday, August 10
He had to do something. Impotent and cold, the rage congealed in his gut. When Anna died, he’d been helpless. But he would do something about this. He would.