The Passenger (The Passenger, #1)(30)

We’re good, Bobby.

They towed Red in and he handed over the lead rope and the tenders unsnapped his helmet and lifted it off. Piece of cake, he said.

You ever bump into anything down there that you didnt know what it was?

Not yet. I’ve thought about it. I saw an alligator snappingturtle in a zoo in California that the sign said it weighed two hundred and sixty pounds. Head the size of your fist. I kind of wish I hadnt seen it.

Yeah, said Western. I think they get bigger than that.

Yeah?

So do bullsharks.

Bullsharks.

Yeah.

Well, they wouldnt get this far up the river.

They’ve been caught as far north as Decatur Illinois.

They handed Red a coffee and he sat sipping it. He looked at Western. You’re givin me the goddamn fidgets, Western. He turned and looked at Russell. When is he goin to fire that thing up?

They go up the Zambezi as far as the falls. They eat everything in the river.

What?

Bullsharks.

In Africa.

In Africa.

That’s bullshit. They got crocodiles in that river twenty feet long. How they going to eat one of them?

They just gut em. They eat the guts first.

Bullshit.

Lions wont drink out of the Zambezi south of the falls.

That’s bullshit.

I know. About the lions anyway. I made that up. Could be true though.

They ran the lead ropes through the winch and the cables came up and they yoked them and watched them slide off into the river. They yoked up the sling and by early afternoon a good part of the wheelhouse was out of the water. The crane pilot doubled down the gears and the barge shuddered and ground on. Red leaned and spat into the river. The cabins on these things are always tall, he said. You got to be able to see out over everything.

I think that’s right.

How long are we looking at down here?

Why? You got a hot date?

You never know.

I take it he’s going to run it all night.

Yeah.

What time do they want us out here in the morning?

Daylight.

All right.

You ready?

I’m a ready motherfucker.



* * *



—

They checked in at the motel out on the highway. You want to get a drink?

I dont think so. I’m pretty tired.

I’ll see you in the morning.

Western closed the door and dropped his bag in the floor and went in and showered and came back and stretched out on the bed. He slept for eight minutes and woke again and lay staring at the ceiling. After a while he got up and got dressed and walked down to the bar. It was still early. He sat at a table in the corner and the waitress came over and wiped the table and put down a paper napkin and stood looking at him.

Are you married? he said.

Did you want to order or what?

Just bring me a Pearl.

She brought the beer and a glass. She stood looking at him. I’ll bet you are though, aint you?

Married.

Yeah.

Yeah. I’m married forever. I always will be.

So how come you askin me if I’m married?

I just wanted to know what it’s like. For normal people.

Are you sayin I aint normal?

No, Lord no. Me?

You aint normal.

No.

What’s wrong with you?

I’m not sure.

Are you married sure enough? Cause I aint.

I shouldnt be bothering you.

You aint botherin me.

I’m not trying to pick you up.

I dont know if you are or not. I just know you aint doin a very good job of it.



* * *



—

In the morning they sat on the deck of the barge and drank coffee and ate sandwiches out of the lunchbox. They watched the tug and they watched the crane operator. He brought the railings up out of the river and the engine stalled down again and he downshifted the gearing again. White smoke belched from the pipe and the rigging creaked and the boom made a series of low ratcheting noises. The deck of the barge tilted slowly. Then it stopped. Western was watching the cables. He looked at Red. Red was holding his sandwich. After a while he began chewing again. Russell walked over and squatted.

How much water is in that thing, Western?

How quick an answer do you want?

I dont know. Something reasonable.

Cross section I would guess it’s not over six hundred square feet mid deck. It goes to zero at the ends so just halve it lengthwise. Twenty-four thousand cubic feet. There’s seven and a half gallons to the cubic foot. A hundred and eighty thousand gallons.

Russell took a pencil and a small notebook from his shirtpocket and crossed his legs in front of him.

It’s fifteen hours, Western said. Except that it will take a bit longer than that. That’s figuring the GPM that the pumps are rated at but they’re not going to operate at maximum. And we’re assuming that none of them quit on us.

Red bit into his sandwich again and shook his head. Russell put away his notebook.

But not before breakfast.

It’s just a guess.

Sure. But you dont want those pumps sucking air.



* * *



—

When they pulled into the marina the lights were just coming on along the dock. Western pitched their divebags up onto the deck and Gary switched the motor off.