Here and Gone(80)

‘No,’ Sean said. ‘We’re almost there.’

‘You said that ages ago, and we’re not. Can we stop and have a candy bar?’

‘No,’ Sean said, quickening his pace, his hand tightening on Louise’s. ‘Just a little further, I promise.’

Then he looked to the sky once more and stopped, causing Louise to stumble into him.

No smoke. He’d lost it again. Panic threatened to crack open in him. They were too far now from the dry lake to use that as a waypoint. Sean wasn’t even sure whether he’d be able to find it again if they turned back.

‘Shit,’ he said.

‘You said a curse,’ Louise said.

‘I know. Be quiet a second.’

Look, look, look. He stared at the sky until his eyes ached. He dared not turn in case he lost their direction entirely. He focused and unfocused, searching for even the faintest wisp. Nothing. His gaze dropped to the ground, ready to give up, but something caught him. Something flickery orange. He looked up again, through the trees.

There it was again. Like a glowing eye blinking in the distance. A fire, he was sure of it.

Sean dropped the bag of supplies, grabbed Louise’s hand, and ran, dragging her after. She shouted in protest, but he kept going, as fast as he could run while keeping her with him. Soon a clearing was in sight, a break of light through the trees.

‘See it?’ he asked between ragged breaths.

‘No,’ Louise said. ‘Slow down!’

‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s a fire.’

He could see it now, a cluster of flames over the rim of a metal drum. The clearing coming closer as he ran faster and faster, the blisters on his feet forgotten. Now, in the spaces between the trees, he saw a small cabin. A pickup truck, dull red against the green.

They burst from the treeline into the clearing, and Sean halted. Louise carried on until his grip on her hand stopped her. The barrel stood in front of the cabin, a metal grille placed over the top, flames licking up through it. No one in view.

A peal of barking startled them both, and Louise came close to Sean. Around the side of the cabin came a dog, a scruffy mongrel with a shaggy black coat and bright amber eyes. The dog advanced toward them, its teeth bared. Sean pushed Louise behind him, his arms out to shield her.

‘What’s the matter, Constance?’

An old man dressed in weathered khaki gear walked around from the rear of the cabin, his arms full of scraps of cardboard and paper. He paused when he saw Sean and Louise at the edge of the clearing.

‘Quiet, Constance.’

The dog kept barking.

‘I said, quiet, Constance, goddamn it.’

Constance’s barks lowered to a deep growl in her chest. She continued to stare at the visitors.

‘Go to bed,’ the old man said. ‘Constance, go to bed, right now. I reckon these two are a little small to be coming to rob us.’

Constance trotted to the cabin’s porch, glancing back at Sean and Louise, and nestled down into a dog bed. The old man walked to the barrel, dropped the armful of cardboard and paper, and used a pair of tongs to remove the grille. He scooped up the garbage and dropped it into the barrel. Fresh flames and embers rippled up, and more smoke. He returned the grille to its place before turning to Sean and Louise.

‘So, what are you kids doing all the way out here in the asshole of beyond?’

Sean took a step forward. The dog lifted its head and barked. The man told her to shut up, goddamn it. He turned back to Sean and said, ‘Speak up, boy.’

‘Sir, we’re lost. We need help.’

The old man looked from Sean to Louise and back again.

‘That right? Well, then I guess you’d better come inside,’ he said.





49


WHITESIDE STUFFED THE few hundred dollars he had left into his bag. He stepped over Collins’ body and left the bag by the back door. A few clothes, the little money he had. It wasn’t much to show for his life.

Thoughts like that had been landing heavy on him for the last hour as he toured the house, gathering up whatever he needed to take with him. That after fifty-five years, there was nothing to show for himself. Each time the idea resurfaced, he stopped whatever he was doing and rode the wave of grief and sorrow, trying not to cry like a baby.

He had no idea where he would run to. Down to the border was the obvious choice, but once he’d crossed into Mexico, what then? Three hundred dollars and some change wouldn’t get him far. But what else was left now?

His last task was to destroy any trace of his conversations on the Dark Web. His ancient laptop sat on the kitchen table. He didn’t know much about these things, but he knew if the feds got hold of the computer, they would surely have everything they needed on him.

Aside from the dead body on his hall floor?

A ridiculous laugh bubbled up from his belly, and he brought a hand to his mouth. Too much of this, he thought. Madness breaking through and surfacing before he could catch it. No more. Now was not the time.

He reached for the laptop, turned it upside down, and examined the bottom. A rectangular cover fastened by a plastic catch contained the hard drive. He thumbed the catch and the cover came away. He pried the hard drive loose, detached the ribbon cable, then dropped it to the floor. His toolbox lay on the cupboard floor. He opened it, took out the claw hammer, and crouched down by the hard drive. Half a dozen sharp blows and he thought the drive was about as broken as it could be. He left the pieces on the floor and went out to the hall, stepping over Collins’ corpse once more.