The Cold Kiss (11 page)

23

Sara wanted to leave, so I said I’d meet her back at the room. Once she was gone, Caroline asked me if I would mind watching Syl for a couple hours later that night.

“We’re all taking turns,” she said. “Butch is coming back this afternoon, then Megan and Marcus are taking shifts tonight. We could use the help later this evening, if you don’t mind. All you really have to do is make sure the fire doesn’t die.”

I told her I’d be happy to help.

Caroline smiled and touched my shoulder. “Thank you, Nate. Butch’s nephew is staying overnight, so you won’t have to be here for long.”

“What happens if something happens?” I hesitated. “What if he dies? What are we going to do?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Megan said. “Once the phones come back on, we’ll call the police. Hopefully he’ll make it that long and we can get him to a hospital.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“Then he doesn’t.” She looked at me. “All we can do is try to keep him warm and comfortable. At this point, it’s out of our hands.”

Caroline made a dismissive sound.

I ignored her then looked down at Syl.

He shifted under the blankets then coughed and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. Megan knelt on the floor next to him and whispered in his ear.

Whatever she said, it was too soft for me to hear.

“He’s been doing this a lot,” Caroline said. “He’ll wake up and start mumbling about some Lilith woman, then he’ll calm down and drift off again.” She frowned. “It’s very sad. I wonder if she’s his wife.”

“What does he say about her?”

“Hard to tell,” she said. “Just her name, mostly.”

I watched Megan sit back and grab the iron poker beside the mantle and use it to stir the logs in the fire.

Caroline looked at her and frowned. “Is that really necessary? It’s already so hot in here.”

“We need to keep it as warm as possible.” Megan leaned the poker against the fireplace then came back to the table and sat down. “You get used to it after a while.”

I thought I heard a trace of an accent in her voice.

“You’re from Russia?” I asked.

Megan nodded then looked away. “St. Petersburg.”

“Your accent,” I said. “It’s not there all the time.”

“It comes out once in a while,” she said. “But I work hard to hide it.”

“Why?”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then she said, “I would like to put Russia behind me.”

“How do you get rid of an accent?” Caroline asked.

“You sing,” Megan said. “I used to spend hours singing along to American songs. You don’t have an accent when you sing. That’s how actors do it.”

“Well, it obviously works,” Caroline said. “You sound like you were born and raised right here.”

Megan smiled. “Not quite, but thank you.”

They talked for a while longer, and I did my best to listen, but I kept staring at the jagged scars on Megan’s arms. I wanted to know what they were from, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

Eventually, Megan noticed and pulled her sleeves down over her wrists. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.”

I paused. “You didn’t like Russia?”

She looked at me and I thought she was trying to smile. If she was, it didn’t work.

“I’m happy to be here,” she said.

I decided to let it go.

After a while I pushed back from the table and stood up. “I should check on Sara.”

“Of course,” Caroline said. “We’ll see you tonight, and thank you for agreeing to help. Maybe the phones will come on or the plows will come, and we won’t need you.”

“I hope so.”

“Just keep your fingers crossed.”

They already were.

I stood outside the office and stared north toward the playground and the single cottonwood tree in the distance. I wasn’t in a hurry to get back and face Sara, so I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it.

I’d smoked half of it before heading back to the room.

When I opened the door, Sara was kneeling over her suitcase. The others were packed and sitting next to the bed.

I stood in the doorway, watching her.

“This is the last one,” she said, not looking up. “But you have to figure out what to do with that stuff.” She pointed to the gun and the backpack on the nightstand. “I’m not touching those.”

“I’ll take care of them,” I said.

She sat back on her feet, examining the suitcase, then looked up at me and said, “Are you going to take the bags?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now,” she said. “I want to leave.”

I didn’t move.

“Nate, come on.”

“We can’t leave right now,” I said.

“You said the Dodge would do good in the snow.”

“What about Zack?”

“What about him?”

“He’ll know why we left. He’ll tell the police.”

“Let him.” She closed the bag then got up and lifted it off the bed and set it next to the others. “We’ve got money. We can go anywhere in the world, right?”

I nodded.

“So let’s go someplace they’ll never find us.”

“Where?”

“I don’t care,” she said. “As long as it’s far away.”

I stepped toward her but she backed up.

“You know where I always wanted to go?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “Brazil. That’s far away, isn’t it?”

I told her it was.

“It’s hot down there,” she said. “You’ll like that.”

“Sara?”

“Did you know they have their own Mardi Gras? They call it Carnival. I watched a show about it one time. They have big parades and everything.”

“We can’t leave,” I said. “Not yet.”

She looked at me. “He’s a cop, Nate.”

I nodded.

“And he’s alive.”

“I know.”

“How is that possible? Did you see his face?”

I told her I did, then said, “I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if he lives? He’s going to be like that for the rest of his life, and we’ll go to prison. I don’t want to have this baby in jail, Nate.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet.

After a while, Sara said, “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll tell me the truth, okay?”

I promised.

Sara looked at me. “Did you know?”

“That he was a cop?” I shook my head. “How could I have known that?”

“No,” she said. “Did you know last night? Did you know he was still alive when you went out there?”

I didn’t answer right away, and something changed in Sara’s eyes.

She tried again.

“When you took him into the field. Did you know?”

“No.” I hesitated. “Not at first.”

“Not at first?”

“When I was leaving,” I said. “I thought I heard something, but I wasn’t sure. My head was—”

“You didn’t go check?”

“What was I going to do, carry him all the way back? You saw me last night. I barely made it on my own.”

Sara stared at me. “You left him out there.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And say what? We both thought he was dead. What was I supposed to do?”

Sara backed away from me, then turned and went into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the lock click shut. I went to the door and listened.

She was crying.

“I didn’t know what to do,” I said.

No answer.

“I did what I thought was best for you and the baby. I didn’t think he’d make it.” I felt a cold ache at the base of my skull and I tried to ignore it. “You weren’t there, Sara. I’m the one who had to make the decision. What the hell did you do?”

I kicked the door, hard, then backed away and paced the room. My hands were shaking, but I barely noticed. I tried to think about what to do next, but the pain in my head was getting worse and nothing came to me.

I needed to get away until I calmed down.

I went to my suitcase and took out my pills and popped two of them into my mouth and swallowed them, then I put the bottle back. I sat for a while then I stood up and grabbed Syl’s backpack off the floor.

“You want to leave? Fine, we’ll leave.”

I slipped the strap over my shoulder then picked up one of Sara’s suitcases and walked out into the parking lot. When I got to the car, I opened the door and tossed the backpack and Sara’s suitcase into the backseat, then I changed my mind.

I didn’t want Syl’s backpack in the car.

Having his suitcase was dangerous enough. It didn’t seem smart to drive around with a bag full of his clothes, which might link us back to him. All we needed from the backpack was the twenty thousand.

Everything else of his could go.

Except the gun.

Sara wasn’t going to be happy about that, but as long as we had the money, I was keeping the gun.

I’d get rid of it once we got to Reno.

I reached in and grabbed the backpack off the backseat When I did, I saw Zack step out of his room and onto the porch. He saw me then waved and started walking down the steps toward the car.

“Fuck.”

I bent down and shoved the backpack as far under the driver’s seat as it would go, then I stepped back and closed the door.

When Zack got close, I said, “How’s your truck?”

He shook his head. “That was a disaster, wasn’t it? I wanted to prove her wrong, but not like that. Looks like I’ve got to come up with the cash for a new tire.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“You know, I needed new ones anyway. This was just God telling me to get moving on it.” He pointed to the car. “What’s this?”

“I’m loading the car.”

He looked at me. “You decided to leave after all?”

“Just getting ready.”

“I see,” he said. “I hope you stay long enough to have that drink. What about later tonight?”

I told him I’d agreed to watch Syl.

Zack shook his head. “The queen’s idea, am I right?”

I told him he was.

“That woman.” He shook his head. “Well, how about now? You can grab your girlfriend and finish this later.”

I opened my mouth to tell him no, then I thought about him writing down our license plate number, and I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually. With Sara locking herself in the bathroom, I figured now was as good a time as any.

It’d been years, but right then, a drink sounded pretty damn good.

“Give me a minute,” I said. “I’ll head over.”

When I went back inside, Sara was still in the bathroom. I knocked on the door and said, “I’ll be back in a while.”

At first, nothing, then I heard the lock slide away.

The door opened a few inches.

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to Zack. I want to get this over with, find out what he knows.” I paused. “Sara, I really thought I was doing the right thing for you and the baby, for us. I didn’t think—”

She slammed the bathroom door and locked it.

I stood for a moment and stared at the closed door. I could feel the muscles in my chest get tight, and I fought the urge to say something else. I knew if I did, I’d never be able to take it back, so I kept quiet.

On my way out, I went to the nightstand and picked up Syl’s gun. I checked the clip and the safety and thought about taking it along. In the end, I decided not to.

I set the gun back on the nightstand and walked out.

24

I stood outside Zack’s room until I’d finished my cigarette, then I knocked twice and waited. When he opened the door, he looked at me like I was the last person he expected to see.

“Hey, Nate.” He looked past me. “Where’s your lady? She didn’t come?”

“Was she supposed to?”

“Just thought she might.” He stepped back and held the door. “Come on in.”

I stepped inside.

The layout of the room was the same as ours except for a utility kitchen against one wall and a long couch under the window. There was an ebony crucifix hanging over the bed, and a poster of an aborted fetus above the television with the words “Why, Mommy?” printed in large white letters along the bottom.

“I don’t drink much these days,” Zack said. “But with all the excitement around here, I thought it would be a good idea if you and I got to know each other a bit.” He went to the counter and held up a bottle of Johnny Walker. “I can’t tell you how long this has been sitting around gathering dust.”

I stared at the poster and didn’t say a word.

He poured the whiskey into two glasses then came up and stood next to me. When he saw me looking at the poster he said, “What do you think of that one?”

“It’s subtle.”

Zack laughed, quick and short, then held out one of the glasses. “Subtlety has no place against the wicked, Nate, remember that.”

I took the glass and sipped. The whiskey filled my sinuses and scorched my throat when I swallowed. I hadn’t had a drink in years, and it took a while until the burn passed. When I was sure my voice wouldn’t crack, I said, “So, what’s all this about?”

Zack smiled, showing his teeth. “Don’t be in such a rush. Neither of us got anyplace to be, am I right?”

I was still on edge because of Sara and I wanted to argue, but I didn’t. Like it or not, he was holding all the cards, and it wouldn’t do me any good to get on his bad side.

Zack crossed the room to the couch and sat down. “How long were you in prison?”

I looked at him, didn’t speak.

“Your girl mentioned it when we talked this morning. I hope that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, not at all.

“She said you killed a kid, is that true?”

I took a drink and tried to stay calm. “My brother,” I said. “He was fifteen. It was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally kill someone?”

“It was a car accident,” I said. “I was running from the cops and lost control. He was thrown.”

“That’s tough.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Why were you running?”

“I had guns in the trunk,” I said. “Lots of them.”

“That’s what you went to jail for?”

“You’ve got a lot of questions,” I said. “Is this what you want to talk about? Prison?”

“In a way, I suppose it is,” Zack said. “I did ten years up at Anamosa. Worst time of my life in some ways, but the best in others.”

“Yeah, what’d you do?”

“I shot a guy who owed me money.” Zack took a drink and winced. “Wow, that’s a bite.”

“Did he die?”

“No,” Zack said, drawing the word out. “Came close, but he’s still out in the wild with the rest of the herd.”

We were both quiet for a while, then I said, “If you think we’re going to bond over prison, you might be disappointed. I did most of my time in the infirmary.”

“Because of—” He motioned to my head.

I nodded.

“What happened?”

“Some kid wanted to make a name for himself. I was new, so I was a target.”

“What’d he do?”

“Took a weight bar from the yard then came up behind me and called my name. When I turned, he was already halfway through a full swing. I don’t remember any of it.”

“That’s a blessing.”

“If you say so.”

“Looks like they pieced you back together okay,” Zack said. “Hell of a scar.”

“Got a plastic plate the size of a baseball in there, and sometimes things get all swimmy on me. The headaches are the worst, but I can live with them.”

“Headaches?”

I nodded.

“Bad ones?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Bad ones.”

“How long were you inside?”

“About a month in the general, fourteen in the infirmary,” I said. “Eight of those I spent in a coma, so it went by quick.”

“All by the grace of God.”

I pulled a chair away from the table then sat down and took another drink. This time it didn’t burn as much. It almost tasted good. I set the glass next to a stack of pro-life pamphlets. They were blue with heavy ink, Bible verses, homemade.

“You’re pretty serious about this abortion stuff, aren’t you?”

Zack smiled. He set his glass on the nightstand next to the couch then leaned forward and braced his elbows against his knees. “Tell me something, Nate. Will you?”

I told him I would.

“How much do you know about our Lord and Savior?”

“As in Jesus?”

“That’s right.”

“Just what I picked up in Sunday school.”

“How much was that?”

“Enough,” I said.

Zack nodded. “Most people feel the same way. I was one of them. I’d heard the stories and thought I had it all figured out, but I was dead wrong, believe me.”

“Let me guess. You found God in prison.”

Zack laughed. “You can try to minimize it all you want. You can write me off as just another person who hit rock bottom and had no way to crawl but toward the Bible, and that’s fine. Most people do. But it’s not the truth.”

“What’s the truth?”

“I didn’t find God in prison,” he said. “God found me in prison. You know where?”

I shook my head.

“Sitting in the corner of my cell covered in my own shit and piss, sweating and puking from all the dope I’d been on when I was out in the streets.” He paused. “Do you know what he said to me?”

“God spoke to you?”

“He said I’d been chosen. He said the beasts were at the door, and from then on it was up to me to hold His ground.” Zack sat back, chin high, eyes focused. “He said from then on, I was to be a warrior in His name.”

Zack stared at me for a long time.

Neither of us spoke.

“I know you were in my shed, Nate.”

I didn’t deny it.

“You know what’s in there, don’t you?”

I told him I did.

Zack took a drink. “Proverbs, twenty-one, two. Do you know it?”

I shook my head.

“ ‘Every man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord ponders the heart.’ ”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a war, Nate. It’s a war against the swine infesting God’s creation.” He motioned to the pamphlets. “You ask me if I’m serious about the infanticide happening every day in every city around this country? I tell you, it’s the fucking front line of it all.”

I kept quiet.

Zack watched me. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you.” He sat back. “See, I was debating how to handle you snooping around out there, but then—”

“First off, I wasn’t snooping. The wind blew the door open and I was trying to do you a favor.”

Zack held up his hand. “Let me finish.”

I did.

“See, I was debating. Should I let it go, or should I chop you up and throw you in a freezer until the snow cleared and I could get you down to the Cormans’ pig farm.”

I smiled.

Zack didn’t.

“So, I asked God for guidance and He told me to go down and talk to you. At first it seemed pointless, but I went.” He tapped his finger at me. “And here’s where God worked His magic. You weren’t around, but your girl was, and when I found out she was pregnant, I knew you’d understand my situation.”

“What situation is that?”

“The war,” he said. “It’s not cheap. We can’t afford to lose ground and let ourselves slip into the gutter with the filth. If that means taking money from drug addicts who are doomed to hell anyway, then that’s what I’m going to do.” He paused. “That’s what you found out in the shed. You found my investment.”

“What does Butch think of it?”

Zack waved a hand in the air, dismissing me. “Butch is going to hell in his own way. He doesn’t pay attention to anything I do around here.”

I waited, then said, “You were a drug addict.”

“That’s true.”

“Are you damned to hell like the others?”

Zack laughed. “No, I’ve proven myself to God.”

“But being around drugs, that’s got to be a temptation. You don’t think God doubts your will?”

Zack reached for his glass on the nightstand and said, “God doesn’t doubt my will.”

“You sound serious.”

“He doesn’t doubt my will.”

I didn’t say anything.

Zack watched me. “In prison, after I got through my withdrawals, I knew I had to prove to God that my will was strong enough to handle what He was asking of me.”

“How’d you do that?”

“The covenant of the flesh.”

I shook my head, shrugged.

“It’s not something discussed in Sunday school?”

“I guess not.”

Zack nodded. “Circumcision.”

“As in—”

“As in, I took the blade from a disposable razor and stood over the sink in the back of my cell and proved my will to God.”

I was quiet for a long time, then said, “Jesus.”

Zack took a drink. “God doesn’t doubt my will.”

I had no idea what to say, so I kept quiet.

“I hope you understand about the shed and what you saw. I want you to see the greater purpose.”

“Your secret is safe.”

Zack smiled. “You know, I was doubtful about you at first, but as usual, God was right.”

“Then you don’t need our license plate number.”

“No use for it, as long as we’re on the same page.”

I told him we were.

Zack reached into his breast pocket and took out the slip of paper and handed it to me. “Then here you go.”

I turned it over in my hands.

It was blank.

Zack laughed. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

I faked a smile then dropped the paper on the table and said, “You sure did.”

“Thought I would.”

I drank the last of my drink then started to stand. “I should go, but thanks for the drink.”

Zack didn’t move.

“Good luck with the war.”

“Thank you.”

I pushed myself up and moved toward the door.

Zack stopped me.

“One more thing, Nate. If you got a minute?”

I felt something heavy settle at the base of my spine.

“Our friend in the office? The snowman?”

“What about him?”

“You know I watched you carry him into the field last night, don’t you?”

I didn’t speak.

Zack waited, then said, “I’d love to know why.”