No Country for Old Men (12 page)

Wells stood over the woman studying her. She'd been shot through the forehead and had
tilted forward leaving part of the back of her skull and a good bit of dried brainmatter
stuck to the slat of the rocker behind her. She had a newspaper in her lap and she was
wearing a cotton robe that was black with dried blood. It was cold in the room. Wells
looked around. A second shot had marked a date on a calendar on the wall behind her that
was three days hence. You could not help but notice. He looked around the rest of the
room. He took a small camera from his jacket pocket and took a couple of pictures of the
dead woman and put the camera back in his pocket again. Not what you had in mind at all,
was it darling? he told her.

Moss woke in a ward with sheeting hung between him and the bed to his left. A shadowshow
of figures there. Voices in Spanish. Dim noises from the street. A motorcycle. A dog. He
turned his face on the pillow and looked into the eyes of a man sitting on a metal chair
against the wall holding a bouquet of flowers. How are you feeling? the man said.

I've felt better. Who are you?

My name is Carson Wells.

Who are you?

I think you know who I am. I brought you some flowers.

Moss turned his head and lay staring at the ceiling. How many of you people are there?

Well, I'd say there's only one you've got to worry about right now.

You.

Yes.

What about that guy that come to the hotel.

We can talk about him.

Talk then.

I can make him go away.

I can do that myself.

I dont think so.

You're entitled to your opinions.

If Acosta's people hadnt shown up when they did I dont think you would have made out so
good.

I didnt make out so good.

Yes you did. You made out extremely well.

Moss turned his head and looked at the man again. How long have you been here?

About an hour.

Just settin there.

Yes.

You dont have much to do, do you?

I like to do one thing at a time, if that's what you mean.

You look dumbern hell settin there.

Wells smiled.

Why dont you put them damn flowers down.

All right.

He rose and laid the bouquet on the bedside table and sat back in the chair again.

Do you know what two centimeters is?

Yeah. It's a measurement.

It's about three quarters of an inch.

All right.

That's the distance that round missed your liver by.

Is that what the doctor told you?

Yes. You know what the liver does?

No.

It keeps you alive. Do you know who the man is who shot you?

Maybe he didnt shoot me. Maybe it was one of the Mexicans.

Do you know who the man is?

No. Am I supposed to?

Because he's not somebody you really want to know. The people he meets tend to have very
short futures. Nonexistent, in fact.

Well good for him.

You're not listening. You need to pay attention. This man wont stop looking for you. Even
if he gets the money back. It wont make any difference to him. Even if you went to him and
gave him the money he would still kill you. Just for having inconvenienced him.

I think I done a little more than inconvenience him.

How do you mean.

I think I hit him.

Why do you think that?

I sprayed double ought buckshot all over him. I cant believe it done him a whole lot of
good.

Wells sat back in the chair. He studied Moss. You think you killed him?

I dont know.

Because you didnt. He came out into the street and killed every one of the Mexicans and
then went back into the hotel. Like you might go out and get a paper or something.

He didnt kill ever one of them.

He killed the ones that were left.

You tellin me he wasnt hit?

I dont know.

You mean why would you tell me.

If you like.

Is he a buddy of yours?

No.

I thought maybe he was a buddy of yours.

No you didnt. How do you know he's not on his way to Odessa?

Why would he go to Odessa?

To kill your wife.

Moss didnt answer. He lay on the rough linen looking at the ceiling. He was in pain and it
was getting worse. You dont know what the hell you're talkin about, he said.

I brought you a couple of photographs.

He rose and laid two photos on the bed and sat back down again. Moss glanced at them. What
am I supposed to make of that? he said.

I took those pictures this morning. The woman lived in an apartment on the second floor of
one of the buildings you shot up. The body's still there.

You're full of shit.

Wells studied him. He turned and looked out the window. You dont have anything to do with
any of this, do you?

No.

You just happened to find the vehicles out there.

I dont know what you're talkin about.

You didnt take the product, did you?

What product.

The heroin. You dont have it.

No. I dont have it.

Wells nodded. He looked thoughtful. Maybe I should ask you what you intend to do.

Maybe I should ask you.

I dont intend to do anything. I dont have to. You'll come to me. Sooner or later. You dont
have a choice. I'm going to give you my mobile phone number.

What makes you think I wont just disappear?

Do you know how long it took me to find you?

No.

About three hours.

You might not get so lucky again.

No, I might not. But that wouldnt be good news for you.

I take it you used to work with him.

Who.

This guy.

Yes. I did. At one time.

What's his name.

Chigurh.

Sugar?

Chigurh. Anton Chigurh.

How do you know I wont cut a deal with him?

Wells sat bent forward in the chair with his forearms across his knees, his fingers laced
together. He shook his head. You're not paying attention, he said.

Maybe I just dont believe what you say.

Yes you do.

Or I might take him out.

Are you in a lot of pain?

Some. Yeah.

You're in a lot of pain. It makes it hard to think. Let me get the nurse.

I dont need you to do me no favors.

All right.

What is he supposed to be, the ultimate bad-ass?

I dont think that's how I would describe him.

How would you describe him.

Wells thought about it. I guess I'd say that he doesnt have a sense of humor.

That aint a crime.

That's not the point. I'm trying to tell you something.

Tell me.

You cant make a deal with him. Let me say it again. Even if you gave him the money he'd
still kill you. There's no one alive on this planet that's ever had even a cross word with
him. They're all dead. These are not good odds. He's a peculiar man. You could even say
that he has principles. Principles that transcend money or drugs or anything like that.

So why would you tell me about him.

You asked about him.

Why would you tell me.

I guess because I think if I could get you to understand the position you're in it would
make my job easier. I dont know anything about you. But I know you're not cut out for
this. You think you are. But you're not.

We'll see, wont we?

Some of us will. What did you do with the money?

I spent about two million dollars on whores and whiskey and the rest of it I just sort of
blew it in.

Wells smiled. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. He wore an expensive pair
of Lucchese crocodile boots. How do you think he found you?

Moss didnt answer.

Have you thought about that?

I know how he found me. He wont do it again.

Wells smiled. Well good on you, he said.

Yeah. Good on me.

There was a pitcher of water on a plastic tray on the bedside table. Moss no more than
glanced at it.

Do you want some water? Wells said.

If I want somethin from you you'll be the first son of a bitch to know about it.

It's called a transponder, Wells said.

I know what it's called.

It's not the only way he has of finding you.

Yeah.

I could tell you some things that would be useful for you to know.

Well, I go back to what I just said. I dont need no favors.

You're not curious to know why I'd tell you?

I know why you'd tell me.

Which is?

You'd rather deal with me than with this sugar guy.

Yes. Let me get you some water.

You go to hell.

Wells sat quietly with his legs crossed. Moss looked at him. You think you can scare me
with this guy. You dont know what you're talkin about. I'll take you out with him if
that's what you want.

Wells smiled. He gave a little shrug. He looked down at the toe of his boot and uncrossed
his legs and passed the toe under his jeans to dust it and recrossed his legs again. What
do you do? he said.

What?

What do you do.

I'm retired.

What did you do before you retired?

I'm a welder.

Acetylene? Mig? Tig?

Any of it. If it can be welded I can weld it.

Cast iron?

Yes.

I dont mean braze.

I didnt say braze.

Pot metal?

What did I say?

Were you in Nam?

Yeah. I was in Nam.

So was I.

So what does that make me? Your buddy?

I was in special forces.

I think you have me confused with somebody who gives a shit what you were in.

I was a lieutenant colonel.

Bullshit.

I dont think so.

And what do you do now.

I find people. Settle accounts. That sort of thing.

You're a hit man.

Wells smiled. A hit man.

Whatever you call it.

The sort of people I contract with like to keep a low profile. They dont like to get
involved in things that draw attention. They dont like things in the paper.

I'll bet.

This isnt going to go away. Even if you got lucky and took out one or two people — which
is unlikely — they'd just send someone else. Nothing would change. They'll still find you.
There's nowhere to go. You can add to your troubles the fact that the people who were
delivering the product dont have that either. So guess who they're looking at? Not to
mention the DEA and various other law enforcement agencies. Everybody's list has got the
same name on it. And it's the only name on it. You need to throw me a bone. I dont really
have any reason to protect you.

Are you afraid of this guy?

Wells shrugged. Wary is the word I'd use.

You didnt mention Bell.

Bell. All right?

I take it you dont think much of him.

I dont think of him at all. He's a redneck sheriff in a hick town in a hick county. In a
hick state. Let me get the nurse. You're not very comfortable. This is my number. I want
you to think it over. What we talked about.

He stood and put a card on the table next to the flowers. He looked at Moss. You think you
wont call me but you will. Just dont wait too long. That money belongs to my client.
Chigurh is an outlaw. Time's not on your side. We can even let you keep some of it. But if
I have to recover the funds from Chigurh then it will be too late for you. Not to mention
your wife.

Moss didnt answer.

All right. You might want to call her. When I talked to her she sounded pretty worried.

When he was gone Moss turned up the photographs lying on the bed. Like a player checking
his hole cards. He looked at the pitcher of water but then the nurse came in.

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

Young people anymore they seem to have a hard time growin up. I dont know why. Maybe it's
just that you dont grow up any faster than what you have to. I had a cousin was a
deputized peace officer when he was eighteen. He was married and had a kid at the time. I
had a friend that I grew up with was a ordained Baptist preacher at the same age. Pastor
of a little old country church. He left there to go to Lubbock after about three years and
when he told em he was leavin they just set there in that church and blubbered. Men and
women alike. He'd married em and baptized em and buried em. He was twenty-one years old,
maybe twenty-two. When he preached they'd be standin out in the yard listenin. It
surprised me. He was always quiet in school. I was twenty-one when I went in the army and
I was one of the oldest in our class at boot camp. Six months later I was in France
shootin people with a rifle. I didnt even think it was all that peculiar at the time. Four
years later I was sheriff of this county. I never doubted but what I was supposed to be
neither. People anymore you talk about right and wrong they're liable to smile at you. But
I never had a lot of doubts about things like that. In my thoughts about things like that.
I hope I never do.

Loretta told me that she had heard on the radio about some percentage of the children in
this country bein raised by their grandparents. I forget what it was. Pretty high, I
thought. Parents wouldnt raise em. We talked about that. What we thought was that when the
next generation come along and they dont want to raise their children neither then who is
goin to do it? Their own parents will be the only grandparents around and they wouldnt
even raise them. We didnt have a answer about that. On my better days I think that there
is somethin I dont know or there is somethin that I'm leavin out. But them times are
seldom. I wake up sometimes way in the night and I know as certain as death that there
aint nothin short of the second comin of Christ that can slow this train. I dont know what
is the use of me layin awake over it. But I do.

I dont believe you could do this job without a wife. A pretty unusual wife at that. Cook
and jailer and I dont know what all. Them boys dont know how good they've got it. Well,
maybe they do. I never worried about her bein safe. They get fresh garden stuff a good
part of the year. Good cornbread. Soupbeans. She's been known to fix em hamburgers and
french fries. We've had em to come back even years later and they'd be married and doin
good. Bring their wives. Bring their kids even. They didnt come back to see me. I've seen
em to introduce their wives or their sweethearts and then just go to bawlin. Grown men.
That had done some pretty bad things. She knew what she was doin. She always did. So we go
over budget on the jail ever month but what are you goin to do about that? You aint goin
to do nothin about it. That's what you're goin to do.

Chigurh pulled off

of the highway at the junction of 131 and opened the telephone directory in his lap and
folded over the bloodstained pages till he got to veterinarian. There was a clinic outside
Bracketville about thirty minutes away. He looked at the towel around his leg. It was
soaked through with blood and blood had soaked into the seat. He threw the directory in
the floor and sat with his hands at the top of the steering wheel. He sat there for about
three minutes. Then he put the vehicle in gear and pulled out onto the highway again.

He drove to the crossroads at La Pryor and took the road north to Uvalde. His leg was
throbbing like a pump. On the highway outside of Uvalde he pulled up in front of the
Cooperative and undid the sashcord from around his leg and pulled away the towel. Then he
got out and hobbled in.

He bought a sack full of veterinary supplies. Cotton and tape and gauze. A bulb syringe
and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. A pair of forceps. Scissors. Some packets of four inch
swabs and a quart bottle of Betadine. He paid and went out and got in the Ramcharger and
started the engine and then sat watching the building in the rearview mirror. As if he
might be thinking of something else he needed, but that wasnt it. He put his fingers
inside the cuff of his shirt and carefully blotted the sweat from his eyes. Then he put
the vehicle in gear and backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the highway
headed toward town.

He drove down Main Street and turned north on Getty and east again on Nopal where he
parked and shut off the engine. His leg was still bleeding. He got the scissors from the
bag and the tape and he cut a three inch round disc out of the cardboard box that held the
cotton. He put that together with the tape into his shirtpocket. He took a coathanger from
the floor behind the seat and twisted the ends off and straightened it out. Then he leaned
and opened his bag and took out a shirt and cut off one sleeve with the scissors and
folded it and put it in his pocket and put the scissors back in the paper bag from the
Cooperative and opened the door and eased himself down, lifting his injured leg out with
both hands under his knee. He stood there, holding on to the door. Then he bent over with
his head to his chest and stood that way for the better part of a minute. Then he raised
up and shut the door and started down the street.

Outside the drugstore on Main he stopped and turned and leaned against a car parked there.
He checked the street. No one coming. He unscrewed the gascap at his elbow and hooked the
shirtsleeve over the coathanger and ran it down into the tank and drew it out again. He
taped the cardboard over the open gastank and balled the sleeve wet with gasoline over the
top of it and taped it down and lit it and turned and limped into the drugstore. He was
little more than halfway down the aisle toward the pharmacy when the car outside exploded
into flame taking out most of the glass in front of the store.

He let himself in through the little gate and went down the pharmacist's aisles. He found
a packet of syringes and a bottle of Hydrocodone tablets and he came back up the aisle
looking for penicillin. He couldnt find it but he found tetracycline and sulfa. He stuffed
these things in his pocket and came out from behind the counter in the orange glow of the
fire and went down the aisle and picked up a pair of aluminum crutches and pushed open the
rear door and went hobbling out across the gravel parking lot behind the store. The alarm
at the rear door went off but no one paid any attention and Chigurh never had even glanced
toward the front of the store which was now in flames.

He pulled into a motel outside of Hondo and got a room at the end of the building and
walked in and set his bag on the bed. He shoved the pistol under the pillow and went in
the bathroom with the bag from the Cooperative and dumped the contents out into the sink.
He emptied his pockets and laid out everything on the counter-keys, billfold, the vials of
antibiotic and the syringes. He sat on the edge of the tub and pulled off his boots and
reached down and put the plug in the tub and turned on the tap. Then he undressed and
eased himself into the tub while it filled.

His leg was black and blue and swollen badly. It looked like a snakebite. He laved water
over the wounds with a washcloth. He turned his leg in the water and studied the exit
wound. Small pieces of cloth stuck to the tissue. The hole was big enough to put your
thumb in.

When he climbed out of the tub the water was a pale pink and the holes in his leg were
still leaking a pale blood dilute with serum. He dropped his boots in the water and patted
himself dry with the towel and sat on the toilet and took the bottle of Betadine and the
packet of swabs from the sink. He tore open the packet with his teeth and unscrewed the
bottle and tipped it slowly over the wounds. Then he set the bottle down and bent to work,
picking out the bits of cloth, using the swabs and the forceps. He sat with the water
running in the sink and rested. He held the tip of the forceps under the faucet and shook
away the water and bent to his work again.

When he was done he disinfected the wound a final time and tore open packets of four by
fours and laid them over the holes in his leg and bound them with gauze off of a roll
packaged for sheep and goats. Then he rose and filled the plastic tumbler on the sink
counter with water and drank it. He filled it and drank twice more. Then he went back into
the bedroom and stretched out on the bed with his leg propped on the pillows. Other than a
light beading of sweat on his forehead there was little evidence that his labors had cost
him anything at all.

When he went back into the bathroom he stripped one of the syringes out of the plastic
wrapper and sank the needle through the seal into the vial of tetracycline and drew the
glass barrel full and held it to the light and pressed the plunger with his thumb until a
small bead appeared at the tip of the needle. Then he snapped the syringe twice with his
finger and bent and slid the needle into the quadriceps of his right leg and slowly
depressed the plunger.

He stayed in the motel for five days. Hobbling down to the cafe on the crutches for his
meals and back again. He kept the television on and he sat up in the bed watching it and
he never changed channels. He watched whatever came on. He watched soap operas and the
news and talk shows. He changed the dressing twice a day and cleaned the wounds with epsom
salt solution and took the antibiotics. When the maid came the first morning he went to
the door and told her he did not need any service. Just towels and soap. He gave her ten
dollars and she took the money and stood there uncertainly. He told her the same thing in
Spanish and she nodded and put the money in her apron and pushed her cart back up the
walkway and he stood there and studied the cars in the parking lot and then shut the door.

On the fifth night while he was sitting in the cafe two deputies from the

Valdez County Sheriff's Office came in and sat down and removed their hats and

put them in the empty chairs at either side and took the menus from the chrome

holder and opened them. One of them looked at him. Chigurh watched it all without turning
or looking. They spoke. Then the other one looked at him. Then the waitress came. He
finished his coffee and rose and left the money on the table and walked out. He'd left the
crutches in the room and he walked slowly and evenly along the walkway past the cafe
window trying not to limp. He walked past his room to the end of the ramada and turned. He
looked at the Ramcharger parked at the end of the lot. It could not be seen from the
office or from the restaurant. He went back to the room and put his shavingkit and the
pistol in his bag and walked out across the parking lot and got into the Ramcharger and
started it and drove over the concrete divider into the parking lot of the electronics
shop next door and out onto the highway.

Wells stood on the bridge with the wind off the river tousling his thin and sandy hair. He
turned and leaned against the fence and raised the small cheap camera he carried and took
a picture of nothing in particular and lowered the camera again. He was standing where
Moss had stood four nights ago. He studied the blood on the walk. Where it trailed off to
nothing he stopped and stood with his arms folded and his chin in his hand. He didnt
bother to take a picture. There was no one watching. He looked out downriver at the slow
green water. He walked a dozen steps and came back. He stepped into the roadway and
crossed to the other side. A truck passed. A light tremor in the superstructure. He went
on along the walkway and then he stopped. Faint outline of a bootprint in blood. Fainter
of another. He studied the chain-link fence to see if there might be blood on the wire. He
took his handkerchief from his pocket and wet it with his tongue and passed it among the
diamonds. He stood looking down at the river. A road down there along the American side.
Between the road and the river a thick stand of carrizo cane. The cane lashed softly in
the wind off the river. If he'd carried the money into Mexico it was gone. But he hadnt.

Wells stood back and looked at the bootprints again. Some Mexicans were coming along the
bridge with their baskets and dayparcels. He took out his camera and snapped a picture of
the sky, the river, the world.

Bell sat at the desk signing checks and totting up figures on a hand calculator. When he
was done he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window at the bleak courthouse
lawn. Molly, he said.

She came and stood in the door.

Did you find anything on any of those vehicles yet?

Sheriff I found out everything there was to find. Those vehicles are titled and registered
to deceased people. The owner of that Blazer died twenty years ago. Did you want me to see
what I could find out about the mexican ones?

No. Lord no. Here's your checks.

She came in and took the big leatherette checkbook off his desk and put it under her arm.
That DEA agent called again. You dont want to talk to him?

I'm goin to try and keep from it as much as I can.

He said he's goin back out there and he wanted to know if you wanted to go with him.

Well that's cordial of him. I guess he can go wherever he wants. He's a certified agent of
the United States Government.

He wanted to know what you were goin to do with the vehicles.

Yeah. I've got to try and sell them things at auction. More county money down the toilet.
One of em has got a hot engine in it. We might be able to get a few dollars for that. No
word from Mrs Moss?

No sir.

All right.

He looked at the clock on the outer office wall. I wonder if I could get you to call
Loretta and tell her I've gone to Eagle Pass and I'll call her from down there. I'd call
her but she'll want me to come home and I just might.

You want me to wait till you've quit the buildin?