by John Rector
“Is there a problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“The way you’re talking about him. You make it sound like he’s dangerous.”
“Zack?” Butch smiled, but it wasn’t convincing. “No, of course not. He just has an interesting way of looking at the world, and sometimes it makes people uncomfortable.”
“What do you mean?”
Butch waved me off. “It’s not important. Just let me know if he bothers you again and I’ll take care of it.” He put his hand on my shoulder and tapped it twice. “Nothing to worry about.”
I started to say something else, but Butch turned toward Caroline and Marcus and said, “You two got room for one more?”
“Have a seat,” Caroline said. “New blood is always welcome.”
Butch walked around the table and sat down.
On the radio, the reverend went on, each word louder than the last: “ ‘And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. And Cain went out from the presence of the lord, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden.’ ”
Megan got up and grabbed her coat off her chair and started for the door.
It seemed like a good idea.
I finished wrapping the plate of food and followed her out. On the way, I told Caroline I’d be back for that game in a while.
“We’ll be here,” she said. “Bring your girl along next time, if she’s feeling up to it.”
I told her I would, then I walked out of the dining room and into the office. I stopped at the front desk and set the plate on the counter then zipped my coat. I could hear the voices in the other room, and when I felt like it was safe, I slid in behind the desk.
The first thing I saw was a twin-barrel shotgun leaning against the wall.
I hesitated.
Seeing the gun stopped me for a minute, but I wasn’t sure why. It was logical to have a gun, especially out here in the middle of nowhere. You never knew what kind of people were out on the road.
I started searching.
There were two shelves behind the desk. The top one was stacked with paper towels and a spray bottle filled with a light green liquid. The next shelf had a series of receipt books, magazines, and newspaper crosswords.
I picked up the magazines and shuffled through the titles. Most were familiar, Guns & Ammo, Soldier of Fortune.
Some weren’t.
I stopped at one with a picture of three young men on the cover. They were standing together in their underwear with their arms around each other, smiling into the camera.
Above them, in bold letters, was the word TWINKS.
At first I thought it was a catalog.
I opened it and flipped through the pages.
I was wrong.
Behind me, I heard Caroline laugh and Butch say, “Well, I’ll be damned.” Then the thin rattle of chips sliding across the table.
I looked up to see if anyone was coming, then I put the magazines back on the shelf. When I did, I saw the notebook sitting next to a stack of paper towels.
I heard a chair slide across the dining room floor.
I grabbed the notebook and flipped through it until I found my name, then I tore the page out and stuffed it in my pocket.
I put the notebook back and stood up.
Butch was standing in the doorway.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. “Help you with something, Minnesota?”
My throat felt tight, but I managed to find my voice.
“Matches,” I said. “We ran out.”
Butch stared at me then pointed to a box of kitchen matches on the shelf next to the wooden pegboard. “Take what you need.”
I took a few, thanked him, then came around to the front of the desk.
“Anything else you’re after?”
I told him there wasn’t.
Butch walked behind the desk and looked around, then stared up at me. He didn’t speak.
I grabbed the plate off the desk and thanked him again for the matches then turned toward the door.
Butch stopped me.
“Do me a favor, Minnesota.”
“What’s that?”
“Next time you want something, just ask.”
I told him I would.
When I opened the door and walked out, my head was throbbing. I told myself I’d make it up to Butch and leave some money in the room to cover the cost of our stay.
I’d even leave a couple hundred extra for the mirror and the inconvenience.
I didn’t mind.
Butch seemed like a decent guy.
The sky outside was a cold white haze. I could see the sun working behind the clouds, but it wasn’t cutting through. There was no sign of the plows, but no sign of another storm, either, and that was a good thing.
With luck, the plows were on their way.
Things were looking up.
I’d managed to get the page from the notebook, and for the first time that day, I allowed myself to relax. We’d covered ourselves the best we could, and now it was out of our hands. All we could do was wait.
I started across the parking lot toward our building. The plate of food was hot and I switched it from one hand to the other as I walked. Then, when I turned the corner, I noticed something dark lying at the edge of the playground.
At first I thought it was a blanket or maybe a trash bag blown in with the storm, but something about it didn’t look right.
I started across the parking lot toward the playground. When I got closer I saw what it was and felt something cold spread through my chest.
It wasn’t a blanket or a trash bag, it was a man.
It was Syl.
I stood where I was, unable to move.
I didn’t believe what I was seeing, and that gave me the strength to start walking again.
I had to be sure.
When I got close, I looked at him lying facedown in the snow. His coat was ripped and his pants were caked with mud. One shoe was missing, and the sock was pushed down past his ankle, showing a band of blue skin.
I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not, and I couldn’t bring myself to check. The last thing I wanted to do was touch him.
I stood over him, unable to accept it.
The plate I was carrying burned my hand, and I dropped it in the snow.
The pain brought me back.
I knelt down then reached out to turn him over. When I did, I noticed the tracks behind him. Not footprints, but two deep grooves leading back into the field, as if he’d dragged himself through the snow.
That wasn’t possible.
I couldn’t imagine him pulling himself out of the ravine, much less dragging himself all the way back to the motel in the middle of a blizzard.
It didn’t make sense.
I got up and walked past him so I could take a closer look at the grooves in the snow. When I did, I saw the footprints staggered along the side.
He hadn’t dragged himself back.
Someone else had.
I went back to Syl and stared at him for a moment longer, then I looked down at the overturned plate and the bright yellow eggs, scattered and steaming in the snow.
I thought about Sara and wondered what I was going to tell her.
She didn’t deserve what was coming.
18
I heard someone behind me, and when I looked back I saw Megan running across the parking lot. She approached slowly, and when she got close, I stepped away from Syl.
“Did you see where he came from?”
I didn’t answer at first, and she asked me again.
This time I shook my head.
My thoughts split and trailed away in several directions. If someone had dragged him back, then someone had seen me carry him out.
It didn’t seem real.
“Hey!”
I looked up at Megan.
“I said help me get him inside.”
“He’s alive?”
“There’s a pulse.”
I knelt down and helped her roll him onto his back. Once we had him turned over, I saw what was left of his face.
I’d heard about what frostbite could do, but I’d never seen it up close. Syl’s face looked like someone had painted him with shoe polish. His nose was shrunken and black. His cheeks were swollen and the color of asphalt. The skin around his eyes looked waxy and there was a forest of white spots that ran down his neck then disappeared under his coat.
“Can you lift him?”
“I think so,” I said. “If we can sit him up.”
Megan grabbed his arms and pulled him into a sitting position. I knelt and started to drape him over my shoulder, then I saw Zack come around the corner. He was carrying his snow shovel and smoking a cigarette.
Megan waved him over.
Zack raised the cigarette to his lips then dropped it in the snow and started toward us. When he got closer and saw what we were doing, he tossed the shovel aside.
“Give me a hand?” My voice shook. “We need to get him inside.”
Zack stopped behind me and stared at Syl.
He didn’t move.
Megan told him we needed to hurry.
Zack muttered something then stepped closer and together we got him standing, each of us under an arm.
Megan ran through the snow toward the office.
We followed.
“Put him over there,” Butch said. “Next to the fireplace. I’ll get some blankets.”
Zack and I eased him down to the floor then Megan moved in and started to unzip his coat.
“What are you doing?” Zack asked.
“His clothes are wet,” Megan said. “We have to get them off and get him dry, or he’ll freeze.”
Caroline and Marcus were up and standing behind me, watching. “Where did he come from?”
I shook my head, didn’t speak.
“Probably got caught in the storm and tried to walk,” Megan said. “I can’t believe he survived.”
“Good Lord,” Caroline said. “The poor man.”
I stood and watched Megan pull Syl’s clothes away from his skin, then I started inching my way toward the office door. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but right then, every instinct I had was screaming at me to get out, to get back to the room and grab Sara and the suitcases and just run.
We could take our chances on the road.
I was still backing away when I looked up and saw Zack standing next to the fireplace, staring at me. Everyone else was completely focused on Syl, but Zack wasn’t paying attention to anything but me.
I stopped backing up and looked at him.
He nodded.
Megan pulled off Syl’s shirt then she leaned in and looked at the bandage. When she sat back she said, “That’s a bullet wound. He’s been shot.”
There was a commotion, then everyone took a step closer and looked down at Syl. I turned and walked out of the room and into the office.
Butch was coming the other way. He was carrying a stack of yellow blankets and didn’t see me.
“Sorry, Minnesota,” he said. “Are you leaving?”
“I have to tell Sara what’s going on.” I motioned back to the dining room. “I guess that guy’s been shot.”
Butch’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding?”
“That’s what they’re saying.”
“Holy shit.” Butch looked past me toward the dining room then held out the blankets. “Do me a favor and take these in there. I’ve got a first aid kit in the back, might help.”
I didn’t take them at first, but I didn’t know how I could say no. “I need to get to Sara and—”
Butch pushed past me and ran out of the office.
I watched him go, then I carried the blankets into the dining room. Megan and Zack were kneeling over Syl. Caroline was arguing with Marcus. Zack was the only one who looked at me when I walked in.
No one else had noticed I’d left.
“What the hell do you mean there’s nothing we can do?” Caroline was yelling at Marcus and the slur in her voice was worse. “We can’t just sit here. Look at the man.”
“Well, what do you suggest?” Marcus leaned back in his chair and motioned toward the window with his coffee cup. “The highway is closed. More than that, it’s completely buried under snow. We’d drive off into a ditch within five miles.”
I walked past them and set the blankets on the floor next to Megan. “Butch went to get a first aid kit,” I said. “But he gave me these.”
She took one of the blankets off the top then unfolded it. “Help me sit him up.”
Zack reached down and grabbed Syl’s shoulders and lifted him enough to get the blanket under him. Megan wrapped him tight then took another blanket and draped it over him.
“I’m not going to accept that,” Caroline said. “If we don’t get him to a hospital he’s going to die.”
I heard the bells over the office door then Butch came in carrying a large metal box. There was a red circle on the front with a white cross in the middle. He sat it on the table and undid the latches.
“No idea what’s in here, but there might be something we can use.” He looked at Syl. “How’s he doing?”
“Unconscious,” Megan said. “But breathing.”
I got up and looked over Butch’s shoulder at the first aid kit. All I saw were Band-Aids, individually packaged over-the-counter pain pills, and saline eyewash bottles.
“How old is this kit?” I asked.
“Old.” Butch looked at me. “Does this stuff go bad?”
“I think we’re beyond first aid,” Caroline said. “He needs to get to a hospital or else he’s going to die.”
“Closest thing we’ve got to a hospital is forty miles north in Frieberg. I don’t see how we can—”
“You’ve got a plow,” Caroline said. “On that truck you used this morning in the parking lot. I heard it.”
“It broke,” Zack said. “I snapped the mounting pin.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Even if it was brand-new, it wouldn’t work on a highway, especially not all the way to Frieberg. That plow barely handled the two or three passes it took to clear the lot out there.”
Caroline looked at Marcus then to Butch. “I think we have to try, don’t you?”
“I just told you, the mounting pin is busted. We’ve got nothing to hold it in place.”
“You can’t find a way to rig it so it’ll work?”
“Jesus, Caroline, the man just said—”
“How about that wire you got back there?” Butch asked.
Zack shook his head. “Too thin, won’t work.”
“You can try it, can’t you?” Caroline said.
“I’m telling you that plow wasn’t made to go long distances like that. It isn’t going to work even if I do get it mounted and secure.”
“And I’m telling you,” Caroline said, “if this man stays here, he dies.”
Zack stared at Caroline for a moment then he took a deep breath and ran his hand over his chin and said, “Maybe I need to talk slower.”
Caroline looked at Butch. “Can you help me, please?”
Butch didn’t say anything.
“Jesus Christ, doesn’t anyone get it?” Caroline looked around the room. “This man is going to die.”
“Zack,” Butch said. “Why don’t you try it. If it doesn’t work, at least we made the effort.”
Zack turned to Butch and whispered, “This is pointless and you know it.”
“Just try it.”
Zack stared at Butch then shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. He motioned toward me and said, “I’m going to need an extra pair of hands. You up for it?”
Everyone was looking at me.
There was no way to get out of it.
19
I followed Zack out of the office and across the parking lot. He walked fast and I could hear him mumbling to himself under his breath as we went. I did my best to keep up, but the
muscles in my chest felt sore and cold, and I wanted to throw up.
When we got to the end of the building, Zack stopped and turned back. He took a few steps toward the office then stopped again, talking to himself, breathing steam into the air.
I waited for him and didn’t say a word.
All I could think about was Sara and what I was going to say to her. My mouth tasted sour and I leaned over into the snow and coughed.
Nothing came up.
I stepped back and saw Zack reach up and run a hand through his hair then kick the snow hard and say, “Fuck.” He spun around and walked past me toward his room.
I followed.
Once we turned the corner I told him I was going to check in on Sara. At first I didn’t think he heard me, then he looked back over his shoulder and said, “I don’t give a shit. It doesn’t matter anyway, this isn’t going to work.”
I hoped he was right.
Zack stopped. “Who the hell is she to tell me? All of a sudden I’m her fucking servant? Do this, try that, fix this, make it work.” He stood back and yelled toward the office, “If I say it ain’t gonna work, then it ain’t gonna fucking work, you cunt!”
I kept quiet.
When he finished, Zack took a deep breath and let it out slow, then he looked at me and said, “Sorry, Nate. I’m letting her get under my skin.”
I thumbed back over my shoulder and said, “I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”
“Whatever, man, the truck is around back when you’re ready. I don’t care.”
I turned and walked away.
When I got to our room, Zack was still standing in the middle of the parking lot staring toward the office. I thought about Butch telling me not to worry about him, that he just had a different way of looking at the world, but it didn’t make me feel better.
I stood at the door for a while, going over everything in my mind. I knew I needed to tell Sara about Syl, but I had no idea how to do it.
There was really only one way.
“No.” Sara shook her head. “He’s dead. You said he was dead.”
“I said I couldn’t find a pulse, that’s all. You’re the one who said he was dead.”
“He wasn’t breathing, I swear.” Sara brought her hands up and covered her mouth. “Nate, we left him out there, alive.”