Deep Winter (6 page)

Teddie appeared in the living room, tucking in his shirt—his pants were half zipped up, and his belt hung open. At the sight of Sokowski wielding the rifle, his face drained of color and he had to lick at his dry lips just so he could talk. “Aww, shit.”

The blonde crouched beside Otis and started to cry. Black mascara leaking trails down her cheeks and over trembling red lips.

“You best get the fuck out, bitch. Unless you want to get splattered with this fuck's brain,” Sokowski said.

She peered up at him, eyes frozen wide. She stood slow and careful and inched away from Otis, leaving him cowering on the floor by himself.

“Shit, Mike. That thing's loaded, man,” Teddie whispered.

Sokowski still squinted through one eye and kept it focused down on Otis. “Good. Blow the fucker's brains out.”

Teddie stepped forward. “Come on, man. Put it down. I don't need this shit.”

Sokowski ignored him. His lips pulled away from his teeth and gums and he hissed down at Otis. “Next time I pull the trigger, motherfucker. Got it?”

Otis's body jerked and quivered as he managed to nod.

Sokowski spit a mouthful of blood onto the crown of Otis's head before finally lowering the rifle. Then he simply handed the gun to Teddie and walked toward the front door. Those in the crowd who were still sticking their heads inside watching the drama backed off and gave him a wide berth.

Carl quickly jumped to his feet, tripped on the chair, and then rushed to follow Sokowski from the trailer. Out on the porch, Sokowski glared at all the faces staring at him from the front yard. “What are you fucks looking at?”

Folks slipped deeper into the dark or toward waiting trucks.

Sokowski reared his leg back, then gave the keg a hard, violent kick.

“Fuck this shit.” The keg wobbled off the porch and crashed to the ground with a thud—its tap snapped off and an explosion of beer foam erupted from it as it rolled wildly across the lawn, spraying the group of drunken men and women.

Sokowski got into his truck and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the window. Carl was only halfway in the cab when
Sokowski fired up the Chevy and gunned it across the gravel driveway. Pebbles showered the side of the trailer and forced the crowd to duck for cover. The truck fishtailed violently, but Carl managed to close the door as his body was flung across the front seat.

The fender clipped the mailbox and sent it flying as the truck hit the street running at forty miles per hour. Carl shot a look over at Sokowski, who clutched the steering wheel with ten white knuckles.

“Fuck,” Carl managed.

Sokowski dug his smokes out of his pocket and popped one in between his lips. He punched the cigarette lighter with his fist and waited impatiently for the coils to heat up.

Carl grabbed two beer cans that kicked around on the floor of the truck. Cracked them both and handed one to Sokowski.

“That was some fucked-up shit,” Carl muttered as he swigged his beer.

“I should've blown the fucker's head off. Piece of shit.”

Carl nodded. “Yeah, well, he ain't worth it.”

Sokowski sucked on his beer and pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal.

“You probably did me a favor, though. I would've probably ended up banging that fat bitch and gotten a case of the pecker drips.” Carl forced a weak smile and gulped some more beer.

Sokowski looked at him and let out a small, dry laugh. “Your old lady would have chopped off your little friend and fed it to you for breakfast.” They both laughed at the thought, which cut the tension a bit.

“That fucker was scared, wasn't he?” Sokowski said.

“I think the dumb bastard shit his pants.”

Sokowski nodded and chuckled at the thought.

“So we goin' home?” Carl asked.

The cigarette lighter popped up, and Sokowski pressed the glowing coils to his cigarette, inhaled, and then blew out a cloud of smoke. He shot Carl a sideways look and smiled a smile that gave Carl a chill.

“Hell no. Night's early.”

Carl didn't say nothing. Drank his beer and looked out the windshield as the truck weaved down the country road. Trees swept past in a blur. Blackness all around them. He had a bad feeling about where the night would take them, but he knew better than to say anything.

D
anny had put another coat of orange on the robin's breast and now carefully painted tiny white specks on the bird's wings and head. It was shaping up real nice. Looked like a robin Danny saw in the springtime. He felt pleased with himself. Thought it might be the best figurine he had ever made. Of course, he paid special attention to this gift—he wanted it to be perfect.

Danny set the robin on his dresser and blew on it gently. It should be dry pretty quick, so he would be able to deliver it soon. He wasn't sure what time it was. Could never figure out how to tell time. Always got the big hand and little hand mixed up. The moon had been out for a while, and he felt hungry, so he thought it must be seven or eight o'clock. He opened a can of pork and beans and ate them cold because he didn't have anything to heat them up on. After he cleaned out the can of beans, he ate a tin of sardines and then an apple. Doc Pete said that an apple a day kept the doctor away. Doc
Pete was nice enough. Was always real good to him and didn't charge him nothing for his checkups. But Danny didn't like the cold touch of the stethoscope on his skin, and it felt kinda funny to get all naked in front of someone. Doc Pete said that he saw everybody in Wyalusing naked. Called their nude bodies birthday suits. Danny would smile and nod, but he didn't understand that one bit. If he was in the naked, how could he be wearing a suit?

The wind whipped up pretty good outside, rattling all the windowpanes and sending cold air sneaking in under the wood, so Danny put on his jacket and the red wool cap that Mrs. Bennett had made special for him. The cap was made out of wool and felt kinda scratchy, but it covered his ears so he wouldn't catch a cold.

Danny had found the Sunday funny pages someone had thrown away in a trash can down in the laundromat and thought it would make nice wrapping paper. But before he gift-wrapped the robin, he looked at all the drawings of cartoon animals. Those were his favorite. He liked Snoopy the best because Snoopy was smart and didn't ever say nothing. And Snoopy's doghouse reminded Danny of his own room. Small and safe, and nobody ever went inside it except for himself.

He touched the robin to make sure it was dry. No paint got on his fingers, so Danny put the figurine on the funny pages and wrapped it up tight. He didn't have any tape, so he just crumpled the edges together and shoved it deep inside his jacket pocket.

Down in the laundromat, the thump of wet clothes spinning in a dryer filled the quiet space. A woman with a big gut, thick thighs, and loose fat hanging from under her arms sat in front of one of the machines. Greasy, thin hair was plastered to her skull, and her thick ankles were discolored purple with large, bulging veins. She smoked a Salem 100 and sucked on an RC Cola while she stared at her clothes
tumbling around and around in the dryer, like she was watching a television set.

She jerked in her chair as Danny stepped into the laundromat from the back stairs. “Hell. You scared the bejesus out of me, Danny.”

“Didn't mean to.”

She flicked some ash onto the floor. “I know you didn't. Just jumpy, is all. Getting close to closing time? You ain't gonna kick me out yet, are you, Danny?”

“Naw.”

She turned back to the dryer to watch her clothes spin some more.

Danny looked at the other washers and dryers to see if anyone else would be coming back. They were all empty—she was the only one left.

“You got an extra quarter, Danny? Wanna get me another RC.”

Danny dug in his pocket and took out three quarters. It was all the money he had until Mr. Bennett paid him for the week. He stared at his quarters for a second before he handed her one.

“You're okay, Danny. You're A-okay.”

She struggled to her feet, let out a few hoarse grunts, then waddled over to the soda machine.

“Where you goin' anyways? It's late, ain't it?”

“I suppose. Just wanted to give Mindy a birthday present.”

Phlegm rattled in her chest as she chuckled. She dropped the quarter into the slot, heard the can thump into the opening, then grabbed her ice-cold soda. “You've always taken a shine to that girl, ain't that the truth?” She cracked open her RC and plopped back into her seat, her breath rasping like she'd just finished a hundred-yard dash.

“Don't know nothing about that. She's just nice to me, is all.”

“You're a good boy, Danny. Maybe not the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, but a nice boy like you should have a nice girl by his side.” She smiled and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“Maybe so.” Danny wanted to get going. He gripped the robin figurine in his pocket and shifted his feet back and forth. It was a good long walk to Mindy's, but the heavyset woman seemed lonely and clearly wanted some company.

“You still livin' upstairs?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Shoot. Such a small room for a big fellow like you. How long you been livin' in that room anyways?”

“Ever since Uncle Brett went up to heaven.”

She chuckled again, but there was no humor in her voice this time.

“Don't think that boy ever made it into heaven, Danny. Probably got turned right around at the Pearly Gates and sent downstairs with a one-way ticket. Mean son of a bitch. Always angry about something.” Her cigarette hung from her lips, and a few ashes fell onto her lap as she talked.

Danny looked to the front door of the laundromat. “Yeah, well, he was just real sad most of the time and had a lot of bad things happen to him.”

“Him?
Ha.
He was just born mean as a snake, is all.”

“Maybe so.”

The heavyset woman spit a piece of tobacco off her tongue and shifted in her seat. “Weren't really your fault about what happened to your folks.”

Danny nodded.

“God knows you suffered enough from the whole thing.” She shook her head at the thought. Slurped some more from the cola
can. “Your poor mama and papa would be brokenhearted knowing how you ended up. Can't imagine one of my young'uns turning out like you did. Mercy me.”

Danny stared down at the linoleum floor and noticed how dirty it was. A big wad of pink gum was stuck to the floor. He wanted to remember to scrape it up with a razor in the morning. Mr. Bennett said that folks only respected places that took pride in themselves.

“What time you locking up tonight?”

“When I get back, I suppose.”

“That's a long walk, and it's colder than the dickens out there. You sure you don't want to just go in the morning?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn't be her birthday then.”

Fat rolls on her belly shook from a spasm of laughter. “You're right about that, boy. Too sweet for your own good.” She dropped her cigarette to the floor and squashed it out with her heel.

“Well, my clothes are near done. Won't be here when you get back, I suppose.”

Danny smiled with relief. “Okay, then. S'long.”

He made his way toward the front door. As he slipped into the cold night air, the heavyset woman called out after him, “Thanks for the RC, Danny!”

T
hey drove in dead silence. The truck's wheels occasionally drifted and veered off the road and rode hard on the berm. The Chevy shook and rattled everything inside the cab. Sokowski was in a fucked-up mood and didn't feel like talking. He glanced at Carl out of the corner of his eye. The guy was a dumb-ass, but he knew better than to try to talk Sokowski out of anything. Carl didn't say anything, just sat there like a big, stupid bump. Quiet as a goddamned church mouse. He had Carl trained right. Just like a dog. If they shit in your house, you've got to keep shoving their nose in the mess and give them a good whupping until they get it. Carl was his dog, and Sokowski had him trained pretty well.

“Man's best friend,” Sokowski mumbled under his breath, and chuckled a little.

Carl gave him a sideways look. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about my dog.”

Sokowski didn't have a dog, but Carl didn't question it.

As they flew through a stop sign, the way back to town zipped past them. They weren't far now. Sokowski spotted a white-tailed doe up ahead along the side of the road. The animal's eyes glowed white from the headlights, and it stood frozen at the sight of the approaching truck, then bounded the wrong way and into the path of the vehicle. Sokowski didn't slow down one bit. He kept his foot jammed to the pedal, fed it a little more gas, not giving a shit about the deer or his truck.

“Fuck, man . . .” Carl held on tight to his beer and pressed his free hand onto the dashboard and prepared for the collision that was about to happen. The left front fender of the truck clipped the hindquarters of the bounding animal and sent it flying into the ditch. The Chevy shuddered for a moment, swerved from the jarring impact, but didn't slow down. Carl whipped his head around and peered out the back window. The deer flailed in a flurry of hooves alongside the bank of snow before the truck turned the corner of the road.

“Fuck it. Roadkill now,” Sokowski muttered under his breath. His bloodshot eyes stayed focused on the road. His destination was up ahead a quarter mile.

The truck finally slowed and pulled up a gravel driveway and skidded to an abrupt stop behind a blue Volkswagen Rabbit. The VW Rabbit had a few stickers of flowers and peace signs on the back window. Sokowski cut the ignition, and the truck's engine ticked angrily. He swung his door open, then turned and looked at Carl over his shoulder.

“You coming?”

“Shit, Mike—I don't think this is such a good idea.”

“Didn't ask you if it was a good idea. You can stay out here and
freeze your ass off or come in and drink a beer while I give Mindy a good fucking.”

Carl swished his near-empty beer can. “Why don't we just head to my house? I got half a case of Schlitz.”

“Fuck that. Mindy's got beer.”

“You really think she wants to see you? It's late, and you're pretty messed up.”

“Don't really care if the bitch wants to see me or not.” Sokowski stepped out of the truck and slammed the door hard. Carl watched him weave his way toward the front porch. The path was icy, and Sokowski lost his footing and landed hard on his ass. Carl heard Sokowski cuss to himself and stand back up again. Sokowski took the steps two at a time and started to pound on the front door like there was a fire.

“Shit.” Carl shook the last few drops of beer into his mouth, tossed the empty can to the floor, and stepped out of the truck.