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Cold Snap

Page 43

by J. Clayton Rogers


  "The yellow brick road to hell," said Lawson.

  "I don't know that road," said Ari.

  "So you're saying the best thing for everyone is to do nothing?"

  "I didn't say that…" said Ari, thinking: Bill. Who are you? Where are you? What are you up to, now, and why?

  A small pickup truck came up Lee Avenue, stopped momentarily next to the xB, then moved into Confederate Circle. It made the circuit of the venerable Rebel graves, chugging in low gear, the driver leaning over the wheel and peering out. Finishing the circle, he came back for another turn.

  "One of those boys who never got over Appomattox," Lawson commented mirthlessly. "'We was robbed!'"

  Ari lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke and condensed vapor. He felt like someone who had been robbed in broad daylight. He wondered if he was experiencing the first tinge of frostbite.

  "What is your cat's name?" he asked Lawson.

  "'Luckless'. Freddie found him in the alley."

  "Why 'Luckless'? He was lucky enough to find a warm home."

  "A home with me."

  The truck stopped at the base of the hill. The driver was craning his head up at them. He got out and stared at the two men.

  "What's in that bottle there?" he shouted.

  "Jack Daniels," Ari called down. "We plan to bury him. Do you want to join us for a convivial repast?"

  Wait, he thought. Could you have a repast without food?

  "You can't drink here," the man protested, jamming his hands into the pockets of his light jacket. He obviously did not anticipate spending much time in the cold.

  "And who are you, my friend?" Ari asked, though he recognized him as the man he had spoken to at the main gate several weeks earlier.

  "I'm the assistant groundskeeper." He was studying Lawson. Even from the equivalent of three stories, the damage to the man was all-too apparent. "You a vet?"

  "I guess it shows," Lawson said grumpily.

  "You oughtta know better, then. Even if you didn't agree with all this feller stood for..." He nodded at Jeff Davis. "I can see why you might not care much for him, but there's other folks six feet under here and you should have respect for them. You best move on."

  "Fucking cracker," Lawson muttered lowly. "Bet his granddpappy shot prisoners at Fort Pillow."

  "This would be your Civil War?" Ari inquired.

  "Sons of bitches shot any former slaves they caught."

  "Iraq also had slaves," Ari informed him.

  "Not like here."

  "Allow me one day to tell you about the Zanj Rebellion," said Ari.

  "Zanj?"

  "Slaves brought over from Africa to the land now called Iraq. A half million rose up. They were suppressed quite brutally."

  "I didn't know," said Lawson. "Great reader I am. This the kind of thing they teach in Italian schools?"

  They had been speaking lowly. The guard could not understand what they were saying.

  "You two want to stop jawing up there and come on down?"

  "We're coming," said Lawson.

  "Indeed," said Ari.

  Beyond smoking and drinking, neither of them moved.

  "You'll catch your death up there!"

  Ari's brow lifted. "Is he threatening to shoot us?"

  "No, he thinks we'll get pneumonia."

  "Ah. I always thought death caught us, not the other way around."

  "Good point."

  The guard was peering at Lawson as closely as he could without climbing the hill. "You were in Iraq?"

  "Biggest tattoo parlor in the world." Lawson lifted his scarf. The guard had only noted his missing limbs, the glass eye being too far away to perceive. Now he saw the shattered jaw.

  "Oh," said the guard, his mouth momentarily agape. He only had a couple of teeth in place. "That's a horrible shame."

  "Tell me."

  "I got a nephew almost kilt in Afghanistan, but he's almost all right, now."

  "Give him my regards."

  "I'll do that." The guard fidgeted, at odds and loose ends. He couldn't leave them as they were, but he also showed no desire to evict them. "So what's the idea, you two sitting up there?"

  "We're trying to see the universe as it really is," said Lawson. He cast his eye at Ari. "Right?"

  "Good enough," Ari shrugged.

  After staring at them a long moment, the guard said, "Any luck?"

  Startled by the question, the two hesitated before answering.

  "Not really," they said in unplanned unison. They traded grins.

  "That's too bad," said the guard. "I wouldn't mind a few answers. You been over to the Pyramid, yet?"

  Lawson shook his head, while Ari merely looked puzzled.

  "Lot of young men buried over there. Would like to know why." He took a deep breath through his chattering teeth. "All right, now, you two stop that smoking and drinking and move on."

  "We should move on," said Ari, with hardly a trace of warmth left inside his coat.

  "It's harder than you think," said Lawson, looking away.

  "Well?" said the guard.

  No one moved.

 

 

 


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