Lang pierced his lips, blinked his eyes, and surveyed the scene. He thought about the two graves he’d already had to dig in the snow, and he knew that the ground was getting harder day by day. That wasn’t the only reason he felt sympathy for the people down below, of course, but it was one reason. He knew how hard their work was and how much harder it would become.
Pretty soon, he thought to himself, those people are going to have to find something else to do with the bodies.
CHAPTER 26
“Hey, wait! Let me turn it up. That’s my jam!”
Calvin Rhodes ran across the painted concrete floor and slid the last four feet, the brand new leather soles of his Tony Lama boots sliding, almost frictionless, to a stop at the edge of the floor-length toolbox. He reached up, cranked the handle on the radio/CD player, and then swiveled on the pointed toes of his boots, grabbing a ratchet from an open drawer in the process and using it as a microphone while he broke into a rap that betrayed a hint of accent from his Chinese heritage.
“Yo, microphone check… one, two. What is this? The five foot assassin with the ruffneck bizness.”
His companion, the older man leaning over the engine of an old Ford pickup, looked up and wiped the grease from his hands on his jeans. He laughed as Calvin did a little dance across the floor, throwing his knee out to the side and then pulling his hips into alignment, waving his free hand above his head and giving a little hop. He looked like a bony windmill-like contraption, or one of those air puppets that you might have seen, not long ago, in front of party stores.
“Cal, you’re a clown. That song is older than you are! You got moves, though, I’ll give you that.” The old man changed his smile into a look of mock seriousness. “Okay, young man, we have to get busy. I’m fixin’ to see if I can get this thing started.”
Calvin stopped his dance and came over to the front of the truck, leaning in studiously to let the man tell him what he was doing.
“Now, this thing runs pretty simply. It’s four on the floor, and as long as you keep some coolant in the radiator and check your oil as you go, it should get you where you’re going. It’s not gonna win you any speed contests, and the only lights I have workin’ are the headlights, but if you’ll look here…” the man pointed down to the front of the motor and then traced with his finger towards the back of the engine compartment, “…I’ve been able to replace all the belts and spark plugs… put in new filters.” He paused. “And the tires are good. She should be fine.”
Calvin looked into the engine. He was like most young American men his age and had almost no idea what he was looking at or what the mechanic was talking about. He’d been brought up in a time when cars ran on computers, as if by magic, and he wanted to ask questions so he could know what to do if the engine stopped, but he didn’t even know where to begin. The man saw the doubt in his eyes.
Calvin looked at the man a little sheepishly. “I know that once upon a time men were both drivers and mechanics. Butmy generation…” Calvin was searching for the words when the old man helped him.
“Well, you’ve done the first poorly, and the second not at all.”
Calvin shook his head. “Yeah… They just became so complicated. I mean, if you can’t do it on a video game…” he paused and the old man thought, well, that won’t be a problem anymore…
“I’ve just never even tried to work on them.”
“Relax, Cal. Compared to those new machines, this ol’ dog is a bicycle.” He fiddled with a connection on the distributor cap until he was satisfied and then closed the hood.
“This here is the Ranger model of the 1965 Ford F-100. It was a new thing in its day, and they only made a handful of ‘em. This special model had bucket seats, which was pretty unique for a pickup truck back in them days.” The old man walked around the front of the pickup toward the toolbox, cleaning a socket wrench with a rag as he walked. “It had carpeting, which has since been worn out, and a curtain that covered the gas tank behind the seats.” He sorted through the open drawer, found the tool he was looking for, and then turned to Calvin. “She has a couple hunnerd thousand miles on her, but it didn’t get there by not being solid. Long as you keep gas in the tank and don’t get in a hurry, and don’t git y’self killed along the way, it’ll get you to Pennsylvania.”
Calvin shrugged and smiled at the older man. “I have no doubt. I just hope I can find gas between here and there.”
“Well, that’s just the thing. Your man and me, we’re gonna set you up with a couple of stops along the way that’ll take care of your needs in that regard. This thing has been outfitted with a twenty-gallon tank, and I’m going to put as many gas cans as I can muster in the bed, covered by a tarp. That’ll get you as far as, maybe, Memphis.” He pointed to the running boards along the pickup’s short bed. “Now, those things there might get you into trouble. If you run into anyone on the road, don’t let ’em get close enough to jump in the back using those things. I’ve turned the rotors and replaced all the pads so the brakes shouldn’t give you any trouble, but you’ll have to be awful certain that you don’t get into any wrecks or stop too soon. If you do…,” he brought his hands up into fists and splayed his fingers and then his hands out in a slow-motion pantomime… “Poof.”
“I got ya.”
“Now look here, Calvin. You’re not gonna wanna to stop for nothin’, right? There are bad folks out there and they ain’t as nice as you are. You gotta get this package to your man’s folks up in P.A.” The way he said that made Calvin smile… peeyay. “There are people that’ll try to stop you just for something to divert themselves. Once you hit that road, you put your ears back and go. You hear what I’m tellin’ you?” Calvin nodded. He understood that it was an important mission that he’d been entrusted with, and he was glad to do it.
“Believe me, this truck is gonna be the fanciest thing on the road. Everything else out there… all those automobiles that were dependent on a centralized electric nervous system… they’ve recently met with their death—powered down for the last time. However, the ol’ dog here, she’s in her prime. Even with the springs pokin’ up through the seat cushions, you’re gonna be ridin’ on a gold mine. That’s the reason I’ve kept her around for all these years.” He ran his hand along the rusted fender as lovingly as a mother might stroke the hair of her child. “That, and the fact that my granddaddy drove it, and he didn’t leave my dad much besides it. Then my dad left it to me.” He paused, his mind gone elsewhere, and then came back to himself. “So anyhow, son, now I’m leaving it to you. You take care of her and she’ll take care of you.” The older man placed his hand on the young orphan’s shoulder, this boy whom he’d come to know and love as if he were his own son.
Calvin gulped. He didn’t much like displays of emotion, even if it was coming from the man who’d largely raised him. He was about to blush, and he could feel it, when he became aware of the sound of a screen door slamming over near the main house and the crunch of footsteps walking on the gravel across the yard toward the garage. He heard the radio wind down to the chorus, as a Tribe Called Quest rapped about how they were buggin’ out. He saw the pretty, young face of the girl he’d come to think of as his sister as it rounded the corner into the open doorway. She stood silhouetted in the frame of light, cleared her throat, and told him that Jonathan Wall was standing in the kitchen and wanted to talk to him.