Thinner(64)

'Yes.'

'So what does this dummocks do? He looks at me and says, "All this digital shit is f**ked up." Then he pays for his corn pads and walks out. You know what the moral of that story is, William? Some guys - a lot of guys - don't believe what they are seeing, especially if it gets in the way of what they want to eat or drink or think or believe. Me, I don't believe in God. But if I saw him, I would. I wouldn't just go around saying, "Jesus, that was a great special effect." The definition of an ass**le is a guy who doesn't believe what he's seeing. And you can quote me.'

Billy looked at him consideringly for a moment, and then burst out laughing. After a moment, Ginelli joined him.

'Well,' he said, 'you still sound like the old William when you laugh, anyway. The question is, William, what are we going to do about this geezer?'

I don't know.' Billy laughed again, a shorter sound. 'But I guess I have to do something. After all, I cursed

'So you told me. The curse of the white dude from town. Considering what all the white dudes from all the towns have done in the last couple hundred years, that could be a pretty heavy one.' Ginelli paused to light another cigarette and then said matter-of-factly through the smoke: 'I can hit him, you know.'

'No, that won't w -' Billy began, and then his mouth snapped closed. He'd had an image of Ginelli walking up to Lemke and punching him in the eye. Then suddenly he had realized that Ginelli was speaking of something much more final. 'No, you can't do that,' he finished.

Ginelli either didn't understand or affected not to. 'Sure I can. And I can't get anyone else to, that's for sure. At least, not anyone trustworthy. But I am as capable of doing it now as I was at twenty. It ain't business, but believe me, it would be a pleasure.'

'No, I don't want you to kill him or anyone else,' Billy said. 'That's what I meant.'

'Why not?' Ginelli asked, still reasonable - but his eyes, Billy saw, continued to whirl and twirl in that mad way. 'You worried about being an accessory to murder? It wouldn't be murder, it'd be self-defense. Because he is killing you, Billy. Another week of this and people will be able to read the signs you're standing in front of without asking you to move. Another two and you won't dare to go out in a high wind for fear of blowing away.'

'Your medical associate suggested that I might die of cardiac arrhythmia before it went that far. Presumably my heart is losing weight right along with the rest of me.' He swallowed. 'You know, I never had that particular thought until just now. I sort of wish I hadn't had it at all.'

'See? He's killing you ... but never mind. You don't: want me to hit him, I won't hit him. Probably not a good idea anyway. It might not end it.'

Billy nodded. This had occurred to him, as well. Take it off me, he had told Lemke - apparently even white men from town understood that was something that had to be done. If Lemke was dead, the curse might simply have to run itself out.

'The trouble is,' Ginelli said reflectively, 'you can't take back a hit.'

'No.'

He rubbed out his cigarette and stood up. 'I gotta think about this, William. It's a lot to think about. And I got to get my mind in a serene state, you know? You can't get ideas about complicated shit like this when you're upset, and every time I look at you, paisan, I want to pull out this guy's pecker and stuff it in the hole where his nose used to be.'

Billy got up and almost fell. Ginelli grabbed him and Billy hugged him clumsily with his good arm. He didn't think he'd ever hugged a grown man in his life before this.

'Thank you for coming,' Billy said. 'And for believing me.'

'You're a good fellow,' Ginelli said, releasing him. 'You're in a bad mess, but maybe we can get you out of it. Either way, we're gonna put some stone blocks to this old dude. I'm gonna go out and walk around for a couple of hours, Billy. Get my mind serene. Think up some ideas. Also, I want to make some phone calls back to the city.'

'About what?'

'I'll tell you later. First I want to do some thinking. You be okay?'

'Yes.'

'Lie down. You have no color in your face at all.'

'All right.' He did feel sleepy again, sleepy and totally worn out.

'The girl who shot you,' Ginelli said. 'Pretty?'

'Very pretty.'

'Yeah?' That crazy light was back in Ginelli's eyes, brighter than ever. It troubled Billy.

'Yeah.'

'Lay down, Billy. Catch some Z's. Check you later.

Okay to take your key?'

'Sure.'

Ginelli left. Billy lay down on the bed and put his bandaged hand carefully down beside him, knowing perfetly well that if he fell asleep he would probably just roll over on it and wake himself up again.

Probably just humoring me, Billy thought. Probably on the phone to Heidi right now. And when I wake up, the men with the butterfly nets will be sitting on the foot of the bed. They ...

But there was no more. He drifted off and somehow managed to avoid rolling on his bad hand.

And this time there were no bad dreams.

There were no men with butterfly nets in the room when he woke up, either. Only Ginelli, sitting in the chair across the room. He was reading a book called This Savage Rapture and drinking a can of beer. It was dark outside.