The Passenger (The Passenger, #1)(61)

That’s me I suppose.

Sure. Whatever moldy sinistralium you might’ve cooked it up out of. We wont even attempt to rescind your notions about what it is you get to pick and choose among from what is and what aint. We’ll try to couch things in your terms. It’s in our interest. Keep the warpage to a minimum. You want to write the little bastard off as just whomever-the-fuck that’s your prerogative. Here by happenstance? Sure. Maybe a change of diet would do the trick. Cut back on the saturated fats and no snacks before sacktime. We can work on that. Maybe ID a few of the current menacements traipsing through the nightwoods.

I dont want to ID them. I just want them to go away.

Look. Why dont we let the thing cool. We got a few more reels.

How do I know it’s not just stuff out of a junkstore? Or something you’ve cobbled up? Some of those people look older than Edison.

Do they now.

And they’re not entertaining. They’re sad. The dead are not loved long, you said. You may have noticed it in your travels, you said.

You could open your heart a little.

I did open my heart. And this is what I got. And anyway some things cant be fixed. And history is not for everybody.

Jesus. Where’s my pencil? Get this stuff down.

And why do you make fun of me?

Who said it’s fun?

Surely you must know who it is that cuts the ludicrous figure here.

Do I? Who you gonna ask? And dont call me Shirley.

I’ve no reason to believe that those are really my people.

Yeah, well. It’s a wise child.

And I dont pretend to know what I dont. I’m not devious.

Which I am I suppose.

I never said you were devious. I said you were a fucking liar.

Jesus. Are you done?

You tell me.

You dont think there could have been somebody around with a little handcranked Kodak sequestered away in their coat? Was that you tripping on the boards or wasnt it?

How would I know?

How many people were in the audience?

What?

How many people were in the audience? It’s a fair question.

I dont know.

Sure you do. Not that long ago. Break out the aspergillum.

Eighty-six.

Isnt that code for shitcan? Anyway, probably right. And anyway even if you wanted to see more I dont know what the point would be if you think it’s all a fake.

That is the point. And I dont want to see more.

I thought we were all friends here.

No you didnt. And what dawn raid on the chickenhouse?

What?

You said that the filmcans had chicken droppings on them.

Yeah?

You said dawn raid.

In a manner of speaking. What, you think it was a secret mission?

Who would raid a chickenhouse?

Good question. Fight fire with fire. Poultryhouse operative. Hardly unheard of.

He wandered to the window and peered out.

She looked up. There was a trunk in the chickenhouse. It was falling apart. The chickenhouse was. Bobby used some of the lumber out of it. There was a bunch of stuff there. Some crates of masonjars. Old furniture. There was a horsehair sofa that Bobby had cut pieces of leather out of to make Indian moccasins when he was a kid. The trunk was an old steamer trunk and it had a lot of old papers in it. My father’s college papers. Some letters. From the house in Akron. I suppose he intended going through them. But he died. And the papers were all stolen.

Oh rueful day.

It was a rueful day. Most rueful day.

Yeah, well. I thought you didnt like to dwell on the family misfortunes. Bib overalls to Time magazine in two generations. One more to oblivion. Over and out. Well, what the hell. If we knew where everybody was going we might know what to pack for the trip. Still, you dont want to lose faith.

Lose faith in what?

Something can always turn up.

Nothing’s going to turn up. How much more?

How much more what?

Film.

I dont know. A few reels.

Go ahead.

Really?

The projector should be cool by now.

Yeah. I saw Walter fanning it with his cap. I dont know why I get miffed. It’s not like I wasnt warned.

Warned about what?

About you, Tuliptits.

What do you get out of calling me names?

Names are important. They set the parameters for the rules of engagement. The origin of language is in the single sound that designates the other person. Before you do something to them.

You can have a conversation without being rude.

Yeah? Well, we need to get your attention. You seem to think that listening is optional and we have to try and scotch that.

We?

Me and my staff.

Your staff?

What’s wrong with that?

Why dont you ever call me by my right name?

I dont know. I think I liked it better when you were Alice. I thought you were a more down-to-earth girl. With Alice we just had the malice. With Alicia we got to call out the Militia. What’s in a name? A lot, as it turns out. You want to see some more of this or what?

I take it the cohorts are not coming.

Nope. Today it’s film. You ready?

Yeah. Okay. Sure.

Attagirl. Douse the lights, will you?

She reached and switched off the lamp. All right, called the Kid. Roll em.





He arrived in Paris in the fall of 1969, coming on the boat train from London. The last thing Chapman said to him was the old saw about racing. Fast chaps, rich chaps, and idiots. Sometimes you can find all three in a single Nomex suit.