Maggie opens her eyes. She does not know where she is. She is leaning against something, something soft and warm. A person. Her head is throbbing. Her mouth tastes bad. She sits up and looks around. She is in a truck, Beatrice on her right and Henry on her left. They are both eating hamburgers wrapped in yellow paper. She looks out the windshield. They are in a parking lot behind a McDonald’s, and beyond the McDonald’s the pink evening sky lined with gray clouds that look almost solid. The descending darkness makes the sky feel very small: it is closing in on her. She feels trapped sitting in the cab of this truck, trapped on either side by the hulking figures of Beatrice and Henry.
She rubs at her eyes.
Beatrice glances over at her. ‘You’re up,’ she says.
Maggie nods, but does not feel like she is up. She feels groggy and gray and caught in a dream. A nightmare.
‘How’s your head?’
‘Hurts.’
‘You had a accident.’
She thinks of the ground rushing up at her.
‘I know.’
‘We got you some food.’
Beatrice leans down between her feet and brings up a hamburger from a white paper bag. She hands it to Maggie and Maggie takes it. She holds it and looks at it. For a moment she thinks she is not hungry, that she will not be able to eat the hamburger, but then her stomach grumbles loudly and she realizes she is starving. It’s been a long time since she last ate. She unwraps the hamburger and her stomach clenches and she takes a bite and tastes ketchup and pickle and she barely chews before swallowing and taking another bite.
‘What do you say?’
She looks at Henry and swallows. ‘Thank you.’
‘Not me.’
She turns to Beatrice. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Beatrice smiles at her.
Maggie takes another bite.
Fifteen minutes later they’re back on the road. Maggie sits between Beatrice and Henry and looks out the windshield. Darkness is spreading quickly across the land now that the sun is below the horizon. She is afraid that she will never escape. She wonders where her daddy is.
She closes her eyes and counts to ten.
She opens her eyes. She feels like a person in a snow globe. The sky is so close. Maybe it always was that close and she just doesn’t remember. She spent a long time in the Nightmare World. Outside is bound to seem strange to her now.
She wonders what Borden is doing.
He’s not real.
Everything will be okay, she thinks. Everything will be okay.
The sky is darkening, but she has her own light inside. Not even the Nightmare World could kill it. Certainly the setting of the sun will not.
Diego parks his car next to Ian’s Mustang in what is left of the day’s dying light. He kills the engine and steps outside. He squints at the interstate, then sprinkles tobacco into a rolling paper, rolls it, licks it, and sticks it between his lips. He thumbs the end of a match into a flame and lights his cigarette. It’s a loose roll and it burns quickly. It tastes good but in four drags it is burned down to his nicotine-stained knuckles. He drops it to the dirt and heels it into submission and walks toward a building fronted with a sign that says MOTEL/FOOD in hand-painted white lettering.
The place is quiet but for the TV on the wall in the corner. It plays a series of loud and obnoxious commercials while a woman and a cook with a cigarette hanging from his lip play a game of cards.
When the bell above the door clinks dumbly, the woman turns around and says, ‘Hi there, officer.’
‘Howdy.’
‘Are you here on business,’ the cook says, ‘or are you eating?’
‘I could eat.’
‘What’ll it be?’
‘What’s good?’
‘Cheeseburger.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll have.’
‘Fried egg on top?’
‘I’ll skip that part.’
‘American, Swiss, cheddar?’
‘Cheddar.’
‘All right, coming up. Fries?’
‘Onion rings.’
‘Will you be staying with us tonight?’ the brunette asks.
‘I hadn’t really thought about it. I reckon so. I stopped here because I’m looking for-’
The door swings open behind Diego, the bell clinking, and he spins around. A stick of a woman in a denim skirt and a T-shirt, barefoot and with her hair mussed, comes in and her gaze shifts around the room till it finds him.
‘Ian wants to see you,’ she says.
There is a smear of blood on the front of her T-shirt and another on her cheek.
‘Is he okay?’
‘I think so. He passed out for a second, but I. . I think he’s okay now.’
Diego nods. ‘Where’s he at?’
She leads him outside and around to the back of the building where several single-wide mobile homes are scattered across the land, and there is Ian, walking out the front door of one of them in nothing but boxer shorts and a pair of black shoes. He is pale and his skin is almost translucent as cooked onion. His shirtless belly is very white and there is a tattoo on his right shoulder, though from where Diego is standing it just looks like a green-gray smudge. Sweat stands out in beads on his face. A tube runs from his chest and into a black satchel he carries in his right hand like a man spreading the good news.
‘Diego.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ the woman says.
‘I’m fine. I just lost some blood and shouldn’t have bent down.’
‘I thought you were dead for a second.’
‘I don’t kill that easy.’
‘You look pretty near it,’ Diego says. ‘You need to rest.’
‘Can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Someone might be passing by. I need to be alert. Asleep isn’t alert.’ Then he looks to the woman. ‘Do you mind if I talk with my friend privately a minute?’
‘Yeah,’ the woman says. ‘I’ll just be up front. Sure you’re okay?’
Ian nods. ‘Thank you.’ Then he looks toward Diego. ‘Let’s go inside,’ he says. ‘I need to sit down.’
Ian sits on the edge of the bed and Diego pulls a wooden chair away from the wall and sits across from him. Diego hasn’t seen his friend since right after Henry Dean put a bullet through him and is shocked at how exhausted and sick he seems-somehow worse than when he lay in the gravel bleeding. He shouldn’t be up. He certainly shouldn’t be driving halfway across the country.
‘You killed Donald Dean,’ he says.
‘He was scum.’
‘He was a person. You didn’t have the right to-’
‘I know. I know that, Diego. But I did it anyway. I don’t give a shit about right or wrong. I want my daughter back. Once she’s safe, then I’m willing to face the consequences for what I’ve done. . and for what I haven’t done yet. But until then, nothing is gonna stand in my way. Not Donald Dean, not a bullet, and certainly not you.’
‘You try to face off against Henry Dean in the shape you’re in, he’s gonna kill you.’
‘I don’t have a choice. He might be coming down that stretch of road in the next hour or two, unless the law catches up with him first, and I can’t be asleep if he does.’
‘It’ll be dark by then. He might drive right by.’
‘He might. If he does, I know where he’s headed. But if I’m not ready for him and he does decide this is the place he’s getting me off his back. .’ Ian coughs into his hand. The sound is wet and comes from a very deep place. Ian’s face turns red. When he is done coughing he looks at his hand.
‘Let me see.’
Ian opens his palm toward him.
A meaty wad of red in its center like a Christly stigma. Ian wipes it off on his blanket.
‘You need to get to a hospital.’
‘Not happening.’
‘Ian.’
‘Goddamn it, Diego. I didn’t ask you to come here.’
‘At least get s
ome rest. We can park our cars around back so he can’t see them from the interstate. You can get some sleep, we can go after him tomorrow and finish this.’
‘He still could stop here.’
‘I’ll watch for him.’
‘If I agree to this I don’t want you with me tomorrow.’
‘We’ll talk about that then. What you need now is rest.’
Ian closes his eyes. His mouth hangs open. He looks to be on the verge of falling asleep even as he sits there. Falling asleep or passing out, Diego cannot tell which. He wonders if Ian can. Ian opens his eyes again and looks at him for a long time.
‘You’re a good friend,’ he says finally. ‘You could have. .’
‘I’m loyal to my friends. Now get some rest. I’ll move our cars around back.’
‘And. . and you’ll watch for Henry.’
‘I will.’
‘Okay.’
Ian watches Diego walk out the door and close it behind him. He will have to convince Diego to go back to Bulls Mouth tomorrow. Ian doesn’t want him anywhere near what will have to happen if he’s to get Maggie back. But it’s good that he is here tonight. Ian is more tired than he can remember ever being. He is tired and not thinking straight. His eyes sting and his eyelids feel very heavy. If he closes his eyes that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Maggie. It doesn’t mean he won’t get her back. It doesn’t mean anything. He’ll get her back tomorrow. But tonight he can sleep. Blessed sleep. Punishing himself will not get her back, nor will it prove his love. Diego is right. He needs to sleep. Henry will kill him if he doesn’t get some rest. He lies on the bed and feels hot and cold simultaneously and slightly nauseous as well. He deserves a little sleep. Who puts a fried egg on a cheeseburger? He is very tired. He had a friend in school who used to put potato chips on his bologna sandwiches. A little sleep now and lot of sleep once he gets Maggie back. Maybe fried egg is good on a cheeseburger. Someone should close the curtains. If anybody ever asks him again if he wants fried egg on his cheeseburger he’s going to say yes. Life is short. A person should only say no if they have to.
FIVE
Ian wakes to the sound of a knock at the door. He opens his eyes and sees white ceiling and a fan turning slowly. A few flies hang above him, punctuating the ceiling. His chest aches and throbs. He sits up and grabs the bottle of pain pills and pours a few into his mouth, then punches some caffeine tablets through the foil backing of the plastic sheet in which they were packaged and swallows those as well. There is another knock at the door. He gets to his feet, bending down to pick up the satchel, and he walks to the door and pulls it open.
Diego stands on the other side, looking tired. But he is showered and dressed in clean clothes and freshly shaved, though he missed a patch of hair under his left ear and another just under his chin.
‘What time is it?’
Diego looks at his watch. ‘Nine thirty.’
‘What? Fuck. What did you let me sleep so long for?’
‘You needed it.’
‘Anything last night?’
Diego shakes his head.
‘Not that I saw. Might have driven past, several cars did, but nobody stopped here.’
Ian nods.
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Guess I catch up with them in California.’
‘We catch up with them in California.’
Ian shakes his head.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Get dressed. I’ll buy you breakfast.’
Monica brings them eggs and bacon and bagels soggy with butter. Ian thanks her and takes a sip of orange juice and watches her walk away. He wishes there was more in him. He wishes when he looked at Monica he felt something. But he does not, nor does he think he could. Not now. Even thoughts of the future are oddly emotionless, not like they used to be.
‘Distant,’ he says under his breath.
‘What?’ Diego picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite of it.
Ian shakes his head. Nothing. ‘I’m serious about wanting you to go back to Bulls Mouth,’ he says. ‘I don’t want you near this. You have Cordelia and Elias to think about and you shouldn’t be here.’
‘He’ll kill you.’
‘Maybe.’
‘And if he does, what happens to Maggie?’
Ian looks down at his plate and pokes at his eggs with a dirty fork, but does not eat. After a while he simply sets his fork down again.
‘That doesn’t concern you,’ he says finally.
‘You know better than that.’
‘There’s nothing I can say, is there?’
‘Nothing you can say what?’
‘To get you to drive back to Bulls Mouth.’
‘No,’ Diego says.
Ian nods and is silent a long time. Finally he says, ‘Okay.’
He picks up his fork again and scoops egg into his mouth. It is flavorless and the texture is somehow terrible and dead in his mouth, but he chews and swallows and takes another bite. They have a long day ahead of them.
A long day during which someone will almost certainly die.
Ian throws his duffel bag into the back seat of his car.
‘Why don’t I ride with you?’ Diego has his own duffel bag hanging from his fist. ‘I was up all night. I could get some sleep in on the way.’
‘What about your car?’
‘I’ll pick it up on the way back.’
‘Okay. Get in. I’ll be right back.’
Ian stands in the doorway and says, ‘I’m going.’
Monica looks up from a crossword puzzle she has laid out on the counter before her and sets her pencil down. It rolls to the edge of the counter and falls to the floor, but she only glances at it a moment before looking back to Ian.
‘Are you really gonna stop by on your way back?’
‘We’re leaving Diego’s car. We’ll have to pick it up.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
She smiles.
‘Good. Maybe we can really go on that date then.’ Ian is silent for a long time. Then, smiling: ‘Maybe we can.’
Ian and Diego are on the road by ten fifteen. Diego smokes a cigarette with the window down and looks out at the desert while they drive, and then he snuffs his cigarette out in the ashtray, puts his seat back, and goes to sleep.
Ian drives in the silence.
Today is the day he gets his daughter back. It is strange to think about. Strange and frightening for reasons he cannot begin to understand. Or perhaps for reasons he refuses to understand. But he will get her back nonetheless. He will get her back and he will hold her in his arms.
In a life of failures he will have this.
They pass a sign that says KAISER NEXT EXIT, and Henry puts on his turn signal and merges into the right lane. Maggie looks out at the desert. She feels half in a dream. They drove all night. Almost all night. Henry fell asleep once and the truck rolled onto the shoulder of the road, but he snapped awake as the truck jerked about and grabbed the steering wheel and pulled them back out onto the interstate. Shortly after that he pulled off the road and they slept. But Henry must not have slept too long because the next time she awoke it was still dark and Henry was driving again.
He pulls off the interstate and onto a smaller road, passing a place with a sign that says DESERT CAFE, and Maggie imagines they serve dirt sandwiches. You pick them up and the sand falls out between the slices of bread and into your lap.
How’s the sammy?
Oh, it’s a bit dry.
Then they’re past the cafe and all that Maggie can see is empty desert. The road is filled with potholes. Thatches of dead grass sprout from cracks in the asphalt. Vapor rises in the distance.
They drive by a sign riddled with shotgun holes, rusted and barely readable. It says KAISER 8 MILES, and there is a white arrow pointing straight ahead.
‘We’re almost there, Bee,’ Henry says.
‘I can’t wait to get out of this truck,’ Beatrice says.
Maggie can’t either. The
y have been driving a very long time. She can’t wait to get out, but she is afraid of what will happen once they get where they’re going. She doesn’t understand why she hasn’t seen Daddy since yesterday afternoon. Maybe he forgot about her. No, she knows better than that. He did not forget about her. Her daddy would never do that. Maybe Borden got him, got him and killed him for Henry. Borden isn’t real. She knows that. Borden isn’t real and even if he was real he couldn’t leave the Nightmare World. He is like a fish in that way and cannot leave the waters of the dark place where he was born. Even if he was real he couldn’t. But he isn’t. Her daddy didn’t forget her and Borden didn’t get him. Daddy is coming for her. She looks back over her shoulder but sees only road: empty gray road: and everything in the distance receding and receding and receding.
They drive through miles of emptiness. Dirt and shrubs and strange-looking trees. There are stretches of road that vanish beneath the windswept sand, but the asphalt always emerges some time later. And after a while they start passing by gray hills like heaps of ash, and the ground looks harder, and then a great gray pit in the earth, carved down and down and down, like stairs for a giant, and the pit is surrounded by broken machinery and at the bottom of it blue blue water, the only water in sight.
‘Iron mine,’ Henry says. ‘Dried up in the seventies.’
Not long after that they arrive at the entrance to a small town surrounded by hills. A lonesome, desolate town, seemingly abandoned. There are buildings here, but they are not peopled. There is not a soul in sight. And it is silent. Not even the barking of a dog to stain the clear, quiet air.
‘Goddamn,’ Henry says.
He drives up the main street slowly, passing a gas station whose windows have been shattered. A Coke machine out front is lying on its side looking like someone took a baseball bat or a crowbar or a sledge hammer to it. Past that and on the other side is a grocery store, also empty. The middle of the day and not a single car in the parking lot, only a few bushes growing from the cracks in the asphalt. The front windows of the grocery store have also been shattered, and Maggie can see what look like food cans scattered across the lot, maybe things people didn’t want like beets and lima beans.
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