The Cold Kiss

by John Rector

  On my way out, I went to the nightstand and picked up Syl’s gun. I checked the clip and the safety and thought about taking it along. In the end, I decided not to.

  I set the gun back on the nightstand and walked out.

  24

  I stood outside Zack’s room until I’d finished my cigarette, then I knocked twice and waited. When he opened the door, he looked at me like I was the last person he expected to see.

  “Hey, Nate.” He looked past me. “Where’s your lady? She didn’t come?”

  “Was she supposed to?”

  “Just thought she might.” He stepped back and held the door. “Come on in.”

  I stepped inside.

  The layout of the room was the same as ours except for a utility kitchen against one wall and a long couch under the window. There was an ebony crucifix hanging over the bed, and a poster of an aborted fetus above the television with the words “Why, Mommy?” printed in large white letters along the bottom.

  “I don’t drink much these days,” Zack said. “But with all the excitement around here, I thought it would be a good idea if you and I got to know each other a bit.” He went to the counter and held up a bottle of Johnny Walker. “I can’t tell you how long this has been sitting around gathering dust.”

  I stared at the poster and didn’t say a word.

  He poured the whiskey into two glasses then came up and stood next to me. When he saw me looking at the poster he said, “What do you think of that one?”

  “It’s subtle.”

  Zack laughed, quick and short, then held out one of the glasses. “Subtlety has no place against the wicked, Nate, remember that.”

  I took the glass and sipped. The whiskey filled my sinuses and scorched my throat when I swallowed. I hadn’t had a drink in years, and it took a while until the burn passed. When I was sure my voice wouldn’t crack, I said, “So, what’s all this about?”

  Zack smiled, showing his teeth. “Don’t be in such a rush. Neither of us got anyplace to be, am I right?”

  I was still on edge because of Sara and I wanted to argue, but I didn’t. Like it or not, he was holding all the cards, and it wouldn’t do me any good to get on his bad side.

  Zack crossed the room to the couch and sat down. “How long were you in prison?”

  I looked at him, didn’t speak.

  “Your girl mentioned it when we talked this morning. I hope that’s okay.”

  It wasn’t okay, not at all.

  “She said you killed a kid, is that true?”

  I took a drink and tried to stay calm. “My brother,” I said. “He was fifteen. It was an accident.”

  “How do you accidentally kill someone?”

  “It was a car accident,” I said. “I was running from the cops and lost control. He was thrown.”

  “That’s tough.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Why were you running?”

  “I had guns in the trunk,” I said. “Lots of them.”

  “That’s what you went to jail for?”

  “You’ve got a lot of questions,” I said. “Is this what you want to talk about? Prison?”

  “In a way, I suppose it is,” Zack said. “I did ten years up at Anamosa. Worst time of my life in some ways, but the best in others.”

  “Yeah, what’d you do?”

  “I shot a guy who owed me money.” Zack took a drink and winced. “Wow, that’s a bite.”

  “Did he die?”

  “No,” Zack said, drawing the word out. “Came close, but he’s still out in the wild with the rest of the herd.”

  We were both quiet for a while, then I said, “If you think we’re going to bond over prison, you might be disappointed. I did most of my time in the infirmary.”

  “Because of—” He motioned to my head.

  I nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “Some kid wanted to make a name for himself. I was new, so I was a target.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Took a weight bar from the yard then came up behind me and called my name. When I turned, he was already halfway through a full swing. I don’t remember any of it.”

  “That’s a blessing.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Looks like they pieced you back together okay,” Zack said. “Hell of a scar.”

  “Got a plastic plate the size of a baseball in there, and sometimes things get all swimmy on me. The headaches are the worst, but I can live with them.”

  “Headaches?”

  I nodded.

  “Bad ones?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Bad ones.”

  “How long were you inside?”

  “About a month in the general, fourteen in the infirmary,” I said. “Eight of those I spent in a coma, so it went by quick.”

  “All by the grace of God.”

  I pulled a chair away from the table then sat down and took another drink. This time it didn’t burn as much. It almost tasted good. I set the glass next to a stack of pro-life pamphlets. They were blue with heavy ink, Bible verses, homemade.

  “You’re pretty serious about this abortion stuff, aren’t you?”

  Zack smiled. He set his glass on the nightstand next to the couch then leaned forward and braced his elbows against his knees. “Tell me something, Nate. Will you?”

  I told him I would.

  “How much do you know about our Lord and Savior?”

  “As in Jesus?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Just what I picked up in Sunday school.”

  “How much was that?”

  “Enough,” I said.

  Zack nodded. “Most people feel the same way. I was one of them. I’d heard the stories and thought I had it all figured out, but I was dead wrong, believe me.”

  “Let me guess. You found God in prison.”

  Zack laughed. “You can try to minimize it all you want. You can write me off as just another person who hit rock bottom and had no way to crawl but toward the Bible, and that’s fine. Most people do. But it’s not the truth.”

  “What’s the truth?”

  “I didn’t find God in prison,” he said. “God found me in prison. You know where?”

  I shook my head.

  “Sitting in the corner of my cell covered in my own shit and piss, sweating and puking from all the dope I’d been on when I was out in the streets.” He paused. “Do you know what he said to me?”

  “God spoke to you?”

  “He said I’d been chosen. He said the beasts were at the door, and from then on it was up to me to hold His ground.” Zack sat back, chin high, eyes focused. “He said from then on, I was to be a warrior in His name.”

  Zack stared at me for a long time.

  Neither of us spoke.

  “I know you were in my shed, Nate.”

  I didn’t deny it.

  “You know what’s in there, don’t you?”

  I told him I did.

  Zack took a drink. “Proverbs, twenty-one, two. Do you know it?”

  I shook my head.

  “ ‘Every man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord ponders the heart.’ ”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a war, Nate. It’s a war against the swine infesting God’s creation.” He motioned to the pamphlets. “You ask me if I’m serious about the infanticide happening every day in every city around this country? I tell you, it’s the fucking front line of it all.”

  I kept quiet.

  Zack watched me. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you.” He sat back. “See, I was debating how to handle you snooping around out there, but then—”

  “First off, I wasn’t snooping. The wind blew the door open and I was trying to do you a favor.”

  Zack held up his hand. “Let me finish.”

  I did.

  “See, I was debating. Should I let it go, or should I chop you up and throw you in a freezer until the snow cleared and I could get you down to
the Cormans’ pig farm.”

  I smiled.

  Zack didn’t.

  “So, I asked God for guidance and He told me to go down and talk to you. At first it seemed pointless, but I went.” He tapped his finger at me. “And here’s where God worked His magic. You weren’t around, but your girl was, and when I found out she was pregnant, I knew you’d understand my situation.”

  “What situation is that?”

  “The war,” he said. “It’s not cheap. We can’t afford to lose ground and let ourselves slip into the gutter with the filth. If that means taking money from drug addicts who are doomed to hell anyway, then that’s what I’m going to do.” He paused. “That’s what you found out in the shed. You found my investment.”

  “What does Butch think of it?”

  Zack waved a hand in the air, dismissing me. “Butch is going to hell in his own way. He doesn’t pay attention to anything I do around here.”

  I waited, then said, “You were a drug addict.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Are you damned to hell like the others?”

  Zack laughed. “No, I’ve proven myself to God.”

  “But being around drugs, that’s got to be a temptation. You don’t think God doubts your will?”

  Zack reached for his glass on the nightstand and said, “God doesn’t doubt my will.”

  “You sound serious.”

  “He doesn’t doubt my will.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Zack watched me. “In prison, after I got through my withdrawals, I knew I had to prove to God that my will was strong enough to handle what He was asking of me.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  “The covenant of the flesh.”

  I shook my head, shrugged.

  “It’s not something discussed in Sunday school?”

  “I guess not.”

  Zack nodded. “Circumcision.”

  “As in—”

  “As in, I took the blade from a disposable razor and stood over the sink in the back of my cell and proved my will to God.”

  I was quiet for a long time, then said, “Jesus.”

  Zack took a drink. “God doesn’t doubt my will.”

  I had no idea what to say, so I kept quiet.

  “I hope you understand about the shed and what you saw. I want you to see the greater purpose.”

  “Your secret is safe.”

  Zack smiled. “You know, I was doubtful about you at first, but as usual, God was right.”

  “Then you don’t need our license plate number.”

  “No use for it, as long as we’re on the same page.”

  I told him we were.

  Zack reached into his breast pocket and took out the slip of paper and handed it to me. “Then here you go.”

  I turned it over in my hands.

  It was blank.

  Zack laughed. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

  I faked a smile then dropped the paper on the table and said, “You sure did.”

  “Thought I would.”

  I drank the last of my drink then started to stand. “I should go, but thanks for the drink.”

  Zack didn’t move.

  “Good luck with the war.”

  “Thank you.”

  I pushed myself up and moved toward the door.

  Zack stopped me.

  “One more thing, Nate. If you got a minute?”

  I felt something heavy settle at the base of my spine.

  “Our friend in the office? The snowman?”

  “What about him?”

  “You know I watched you carry him into the field last night, don’t you?”

  I didn’t speak.

  Zack waited, then said, “I’d love to know why.”

  25

  “Were you the one who shot him?”

  “No,” I said. “All we did was give him a ride.”

  “Then who did it?”

  “No idea.”

  Zack leaned back on the couch and stretched his arms out over the cushions. He asked me to go over everything again, so I did. I told him about the diner and the bathroom and the ride through the storm. I told him about seeing the motel then finding Syl dead in the car.

  “But he wasn’t dead,” Zack said.

  “Obviously not.”

  Zack stared at me. “Go on.”

  I told him everything I could remember, and I tried to stick to the truth. Except when it came to the money.

  That, I lied about.

  “Two hundred thousand dollars?” Zack opened his eyes wide and exhaled sharp. “That’s a lot of cash.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

  “Where’s it now?”

  “We’ve got it.”

  Zack got up and grabbed the bottle off the kitchen counter. He refilled my glass then his. “You really thought he was dead?”

  “I checked his pulse and couldn’t find one.”

  Zack took a drink then sat back on the couch. “So, you figured you could ditch the body out in the field, then when the roads were clear you’d disappear with the money and no one would know any different?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “But then the guy pops back up like a bad penny.”

  I wanted to ask if he was the one who dragged him out of the ravine, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Instead, I said, “It wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  “I bet it wasn’t.” He swirled his drink in the glass. “Two hundred thousand is a good start for a new family.”

  “It sure is.”

  “So, now what?”

  I thought about it for a second then said, “I don’t know. I guess it depends on him.”

  “If he lives or not.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What if he dies?”

  “Then we stick to the plan,” I said. “If he doesn’t die, then I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “You two are in a bad spot.”

  I agreed, then said, “What would you do?”

  “For two hundred grand I’d do a hell of a lot.” Zack leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “You know he’s probably not going to die. He should, but he’s a tough son of a bitch.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “We can speed things along.”

  I looked at him, didn’t speak.

  “I’m watching him overnight. I can make sure he doesn’t make it until morning.”

  “Kill him?”

  Zack shrugged. “I’ll use a pillow. No one will know. It’ll look like he died in his sleep. No one will think anything of it. Simple.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Zack smiled. “Money.”

  I hesitated. “How much?”

  Zack sat up and finished his drink in two large swallows. “What if I wanted it all?”

  “Then you and I would have a problem.”

  Zack smiled. “Yeah, I suppose we would.”

  “Try again.”

  He sat back and looked past me at nothing, then said, “A hundred thousand seems fair. Even split. Half for me, half for you two.”

  “That’s still a lot.”

  “It’ll solve your problem.”

  “And fund the war?”

  Zack nodded. “And fund the war.”

  I thought about it for a second. “I’d have to talk to Sara.”

  “Whatever you have to do,” Zack said. “You can come back with the money when you decide.” He motioned to the bottle. “You want another drink for the road?”

  I told him I didn’t.

  Zack shrugged then poured himself one.

  I got up and grabbed my coat. “I’ll come back and give you an answer.”

  Zack followed me to the door.

  I opened it and stepped out into the snow.

  “It’s all in how you sell it,” Zack said. “If your girl doesn’t like the idea, tell her you don’t have a choice. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

>   “We always have a choice,” I said.

  Zack smiled and closed the door.

  I took a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it then stepped down into the parking lot. The sky was turning dark, and a wall of bruise-colored clouds hung just above the horizon. Any hope I’d had about the storm missing us disappeared.

  It was coming.

  I put the cigarette to my lips and inhaled, deep. I could still taste the whiskey in the back of my throat, and I turned and spit into the snow.

  It wouldn’t go away.

  When I got to our room, I stayed outside and leaned against the building and finished my cigarette.

  I thought about Vincent.

  It’d been a long time since I’d talked about him to anyone, and I didn’t like it. Whenever I did, the memories came flooding back and they wouldn’t go away.

  I didn’t need that now.

  I looked down at my feet and felt a sharp flash of pain in the middle of my head. I closed my eyes and tried to push it away. I didn’t want to think of anything but what I needed to do for Sara and the baby.

  I told myself that when all this was over I’d sit and think about Vincent. I’d make sure I remembered everything I could about him. The sound of his voice, the way he laughed, the look on his face when he was happy.

  I’d bring it all back.

  But not now.

  Not yet.

  Right now, I had to stay focused.

  When I opened my eyes again, everything was fine.

  When I got back to the room, Sara was sitting up in bed folding clothes into one of her suitcases. When she saw me, she almost smiled.

  “You’re out of the bathroom,” I said.

  “Since we’re not leaving, I figured I could pack these a little better.”

  I sat next to her. “Can we talk?”

  She didn’t look up.

  “I can’t keep saying I’m sorry.”

  She ignored me, said, “How’d it go?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  It would’ve been easy to tell her that Zack agreed to keep quiet for a price. Then, when Syl died overnight, she wouldn’t know the difference. It would’ve been easier, but I wasn’t going to do it. I didn’t want to lie anymore.

  So I told her the truth.