Day of the Dead (25 page)

‘So what got you off your ass to come down here?' Daniel said to Bagger.

Bagger grinned. ‘A chance to hang with my old bubbas.'

‘You on leave?'

‘Kind of. Changed my line of work. Thought I'd come play in your sandbox.'

Daniel was good at covering, she'd learned, but she still caught the ripple of dismay, maybe of anger, before his expression settled into its familiar grin.

‘Dude, why'd you go in that direction?'

Bagger shrugged. ‘Jocks like me, we're fucking dinosaurs. In a couple of years, we'll all be sitting in front of a computer in Nevada, joysticking drones. Kiss the wife in the morning, drive to your cubicle, deliver a few smart bombs to hajji wedding parties, and you're home for dinner.'

Lovely, Michelle thought.

Daniel lifted his hands. ‘Hey, there's worse ways to make a living. Right, Punch?'

‘Yeah,' Rick said, gazing out over the water. ‘Yeah, there are.'

The waitress brought another round of beers and shots.

‘You had the right idea, Jink. Getting out,' Bagger said, lifting his shot. ‘I'm just following in your footsteps.'

‘Oh, yeah? That why you came down here? So you could catch up?' Daniel still smiled, but now he wasn't trying to hide the anger. ‘Maybe work my hop?'

‘Hey.' Bagger had tensed up in his chair. Like he was expecting a fight. ‘Look, man. I'm just here to back you up. Sounds like you got a little bit of the leans.'

The leans?

‘You tell him that, Punch?' Daniel asked. ‘You tell him I need backup?'

Rick frowned, as if he were trying to remember. ‘I don't know. I might have.'

Marissa put her hand on Michelle's arm. ‘They talk like this all the time once they start drinking,' she said, like she was sharing a secret. ‘It doesn't really mean much.'

‘'Scuse me,' Rick said, pushing his chair back. He stood up, swaying slightly. ‘I gotta find the head.'

Thunder cracked like an explosion, and a bolt of lightning shot across the bay.

Bagger flinched, then lifted his shot glass and pounded the tequila. ‘Check out the light show,' he said.

Spiderwebs of lightning lit up the sky above the water, turning the clouds white and then purple and indigo as they faded. A few fat drops of rain spattered on the rail, blown by a cooling breeze. The lightning was so spectacular that Michelle thought it seemed almost unreal, like some kind of special effect in a movie.

Then there was a series of loud pops, and the lights went out and the music stopped.

‘Must've hit a transformer.'

Several wobbly flashlight beams crisscrossed the restaurant – from a waitress and Daniel and another customer over by the bar. Bagger stood and looked around. ‘Shit, it's the whole town.'

‘The grid here's so shaky it doesn't take much to bring it down,' Daniel said.

‘The hotel's got power,' Bagger said, peering across the bay.

‘Backup generator.'

‘So let's go over there,' he said. ‘They got a bar, right?'

‘Shit,' Marissa said in a low voice. ‘Rick isn't back.'

‘He said he was going to the restroom,' Michelle said.

‘That was at least ten minutes ago.' Marissa stood, the tendons in her sculpted arms standing out like wires. She looked like she was about to cry.

Daniel frowned. ‘What's up with Rick?'

‘Nothing,' Marissa said quickly. ‘With the power off … he just … he gets confused sometimes.'

‘I'll come with you,' Michelle said. ‘I need to use the restroom anyway.' She turned to Daniel. ‘Can I borrow your flashlight?'

‘Sure.' He handed it to her – a little metal flashlight with a bright halogen beam. He looked uncertain. Unmoored.

The bathroom was around the back of the kitchen, down an uneven path with tipped cement slabs for pavers.

‘Thanks,' Marissa said. ‘Thanks for … He doesn't want the guys to know he's having problems.'

‘What kind of problems?'

‘Oh, just … Really, he's fine most of the time. Especially someplace like this, that's familiar. You know, comfortable. But if things are confusing, or if he drinks …'

Marissa knocked on the wobbly door of the men's room. ‘Rick? You in there, hon?'

No answer.

Marissa opened the door, and Michelle aimed her flashlight inside. A urinal, a tiny sink, a screened widow up high on the wall. Empty.

‘Could he have gone back to where you're staying?'

‘Maybe … maybe he just got tired.' Marissa wiped tears from her eyes. ‘You know, a lot of the time he's fine. They're not even sure what's wrong. TIAs, mini-strokes, maybe. He's in and out.'

Marissa rummaged around in her purse. ‘I have a flashlight,' she said. ‘Maybe I should go to our place. I'll let you know if he's there.' She smiled shakily. ‘No cellphones, so I'll have to come back.'

She started up a steep path behind the restaurant. ‘I'll be back in about fifteen minutes,' she said.

Michelle nodded and watched her go.

If Rick was confused, where might he go? she wondered. The path to the left, up the hill, where Marissa had gone? Or to the right, a gentle incline that curved down toward the water?

She followed the path to the right, between the restaurant and several tall houses that looked as though they hadn't been built to any plan, just added onto when the owners had the time, money, and inspiration. Cicadas and grasshoppers chirped and buzzed beneath the cracks of thunder; it was utterly dark between flashes of lightning, and the only human noises were occasional snatches of conversation and laughter.

Ahead of her was the pier.

She could see the dark shapes of two men sitting on a bench at the pier's foot, one smoking a cigar, the other drinking from a bottle of beer. Not Rick. On the pier itself were another man and a woman, sitting close to each other, holding hands, watching the storm. And at the very end of the pier, a lone man standing at the edge.

‘Rick?'

He turned as she approached, blinking in the flashlight's bluish beam. ‘Who is it?'

‘It's Michelle. Danny's friend.'

‘Oh,' he said.

She was next to him now. Dark as it was, she didn't want to aim the light at his face, so she held it up like a candle.

‘Are you okay?' she asked.

Tears ran down his cheeks, but his expression was strangely calm. As if the tears were just water, something external.

‘Oh, I'm fine,' he said. ‘Just wanted to …' He frowned and gestured vaguely at the bay. ‘Get some air.'

‘We were wondering where you went. Maybe we should go back.'

He nodded. ‘Yeah. Probably should.'

They started walking up the pier.

‘Can I ask you something?'

‘Sure,' Rick said.

‘What are the leans?'

He chuckled. ‘Happens when you're flying sometimes. When you can't see the horizon. You don't know you're in a turn, you're in it for a while, and then, when you're flying straight, you think you're banking the other way. It's, uh … what do you call it? Not a mirage.' Suddenly he smiled and closed his fist, as if he'd caught the word he wanted. ‘It's an illusion.'

‘So why did Bagger say that Danny … that he had the leans?'

‘Danny's trying to change direction. It's tough to do when you've been going the same way a long time.'

‘And … he came to you, right? To help him.'

Rick nodded.

‘Are you going to?'

‘I don't know if I can. I don't have the juice I used to.'

‘Rick, I'd like to help Danny. Tell me what to do. How to help him.'

Rick shook his head. ‘You can't. Unless there's something about you I don't know.'

There it was again, awareness cutting through the fog, and she realized she might have assumed too much, that Rick wasn't as far gone as he'd seemed.

‘No,' she said. ‘But he told me he wants out.'

‘Yeah. And I guess I owe him.'

She had to risk it. If he was already suspicious of her, then asking more questions couldn't make it that much worse.

‘Why, Rick? Do you want to talk about it?'

‘I hooked him up.'

They'd reached the path that led back to the restaurant. Rick paused there, head swiveling, like he was trying to get oriented.

‘I worked with the boys, in Vietnam,' he said. ‘In Laos. Did mission support.'

‘The boys?'

He grinned. ‘
You
know.'

‘No. I don't.'

‘Sure you do. The cowboys. Spook stuff. Black ops.' He patted her on the back. Started walking again. She caught up.

‘Anyway, we stayed connected, after. They came looking for recruits, and I recommended Danny.'

She couldn't tell whether it was a chuckle or a sob, the sound he made in his throat. ‘I thought I was doing him a favor. I know Danny. He wasn't gonna be happy being an IP or a bus driver.'

‘A bus driver?'

‘Yeah. He'd hate it. He'd get so bored. He needs to be out booming. Doing something fun.'

Suddenly he stopped and took Michelle's hand. He stared at her, though she could barely see his face in the dark.

‘I should've been a better teacher. I should've told him not to.'

She guided Rick back to the restaurant, steadying him when he stumbled on the uneven slabs. Once they got there, she could make out Daniel and Bagger sitting at the table, illuminated by a Coleman lantern, Bagger hunched over the table, Daniel leaning back in his chair in a pose that seemed like a parody of relaxation.

‘Hey,' Daniel said, rising. ‘Shit, Punch, you trying to get out of buying the next round?'

‘No, no. Just stretching my legs.' He looked around. ‘Where's Marissa?'

‘Here I am, sweetie.' Marissa crossed to the table and gathered Rick up in her muscled arms. Even in this dim light, Michelle could see the puffiness of her eyelids, her reddened nose. ‘Thanks,' she mouthed to Michelle.

‘Did you want to talk about something, Danny?' Rick asked.

‘Why don't we call it a night? I'm kinda tired.' He slapped Rick on the shoulder. ‘We can talk in the morning. Over some fish.'

They hired a
panga
to take them across the bay to their hotel: Daniel, Michelle, and Bagger, who'd gotten a cabin there.

‘You wanna get another round?' Bagger said after they'd clambered up onto the beach, wading through knee-high surf.

‘No, buddy. I'm done for the night.'

‘Look,' Bagger said, ‘don't take me coming in the wrong way. All I'm trying to do is keep you out of the graveyard.'

Daniel stopped. Turned to him. Gave him a dead-eyed look. ‘Right. Appreciate that.'

Bagger raised his hand in a mock salute and shuffled up the beach toward the bar.

‘Jesus, Danny. The graveyard?' Michelle said.

‘It's a flying term. Don't worry about it.' He turned and headed for the stone path that led to their cabin. Michelle followed.

‘So what's a bus driver?' she asked him.

‘Depends. Airbus pilot, usually. Why?'

‘Something Rick said.'

Daniel stopped. ‘You talked to Rick?'

‘Well, yes. What do you expect? You won't tell me what's going on. I was hoping
he
could.' She was getting angry again, raising her voice. She tried to calm herself. ‘He talked about “the boys.” Some people who recruited you to do … whatever it is you do.'

‘He was drunk,' Daniel said as they passed the saltwater pool. ‘You can't take anything he said too seriously.'

‘He wasn't just drunk. There's something wrong with him, I don't know what. Dementia or Alzheimer's or—'

‘You don't know that.'

‘Marissa told me there's a problem. He didn't want you to know.'

He didn't say anything. He flinched and kept walking.

They'd reached their cabana.

‘What if he can't help you, Danny?'

His shoulders slumped. ‘I don't know. Figure something out, I guess.'

He looked so lost suddenly, and she thought of that first night in the hotel, when she'd wanted to reach out to him and hadn't.

He fumbled around in a pocket of his cargo shorts for the key. She watched as he unlocked the door. Opened it for her. She stepped inside.

There was a man sitting on the bed. Another one standing against the wall. She could just make out their shapes in the dark.

‘Don't scream,' the man on the bed said. ‘Okay?'

‘This isn't the way I wanted us to meet.' Oscar rose from the bed. ‘But, Danny, we give you hints, and you don't appreciate them.'

The man standing against the wall had switched on the light. Daniel and Michelle stood inside the cabana now, with the door closed behind them and a third man whom they hadn't noticed waiting outside, standing in front of it.

‘I don't know you,' Daniel said, his voice hoarse.

‘Oh. But you know
about
me,' Oscar said. ‘Your friend Michelle has met me before.'

‘It's … he's the man I met with Emma.'

Headless bodies. Burned bodies. She could see the nose of his pistol nudging out from beneath his hitched-up trouser leg.

‘There's no need for us to talk this way,' Oscar said. He waved a hand at the man standing by the door. ‘We can sit if you'd like.'

Daniel hesitated, then nodded.

The man by the door opened it and stepped outside.

‘What about him?' Daniel said, tilting his head in the direction of the man who stood by the wall. He looked so ordinary, Michelle thought. Short, wiry, and dark, wearing a blue-gray short-sleeved shirt, like one of the Mexicans she'd see around L.A. every day and not even think about. A gardener. A busboy.