Color of Blood(97)

“Do you mind if I sit down inside the car?” Dennis yelled.

“No,” Jimmy grunted.

Dennis sat in the car, panting slightly from the heat, mesmerized a little by this stranger who emerged out of the red dust like an ebony ghost. Oddly, his guest was as convivial and helpful as a Ritz doorman. The entire day was too strange and taxing, so he sat there, following the lead of Jimmy’s dog, and stayed out of the sun.

“Ha!” Jimmy finally yelled.

Dennis got out of the car, brushing a dozen or so flies away from his face.

“Did you find something?”

There was a puff of dust as Jimmy emerged from under the Cruiser’s engine, his singlet covered with a red, powdery coating. Little bits of gravel stuck to his hair.

“Somebody been playing with you, mate,” he said, grinning, holding a white object the shape of a fountain pen.





Chapter 34


“What the hell is that?”

“Don’t know,” Jimmy said, dangling the small, tubular object by an eighteen-inch length of wire. “It was stuck to your frame below the engine. Not part of the car. Never seen anything like that. Held on by a magnet, I reckon.”

“That’s what caused my engine to stop?”

“No, you got a hole in the radiator hose.”

“Well that’s pretty stupid,” Dennis said. “Shouldn’t happen to a new car. Maybe I did run over something.”

“Not likely,” Jimmy said, handing the strange device to Dennis. “Someone might have drilled a hole.”

“A hole?”

“Hole drilled in the water hose where it bends. The radiator fluid’s under pressure when the engine’s on, right?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, though he had no idea radiator fluid was under pressure.

“And the fluid just pissed itself out onto the track while you was driving. If the hole was in a different place, it would have sprayed on the engine block, and you would have seen steam, I reckon.”

Through the stultifying heat, the irritating flies, and the growling dog, Dennis felt a chill.

“You think someone drilled it on purpose so I would break down out here?”

“I didn’t drill no hole,” Jimmy said.

“No, I didn’t say you drilled the hole, but maybe someone else did?”

“Could be,” Jimmy said.

“Shit,” Dennis said, looking at the white plastic device in his hand. He turned it over and could find no writing on it. He pulled a latch on the side of the tube and it popped open. Two AA batteries sprang out. Dennis saw a tiny circuit board with very small printing. He tried several different angles and could not make out the writing.

“Jimmy,” he said, handing it over to him, “can you tell me what those words say?”

Jimmy squinted in the sunlight. “I can’t read so good, mate.”

“I think it’s a GPS.”

“Could be,” Jimmy said.

Dennis scanned the horizon. He could see no vehicle dust trails. He turned back to his visitor.

“What are you doing out here, Jimmy?”

“Walkin’,” he said.

“I can see that, but why are you here right now? How did you know I was here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I didn’t know you was here, mate,” he said, smiling. “Though I think Snippy might have smelled you.”

“You just walk right out in the desert sometimes? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” he said grinning, “sometimes. Other times I just stay in town and get pissed with me mates.”

Dennis stared long and hard at his visitor.

“Can you help me get out of here?”

“Got any tools? Water?”

Dennis showed him the plastic toolbox and the large water container in the back. Jimmy took out a Phillips screwdriver and began to pull back the carpet lining of the LandCruiser.

“What are you doing?” Dennis asked.

“Lookin’,” Jimmy said. He pulled out the jack and tire iron and put them aside.

After several minutes of poking around, Jimmy said, “Ah,” and loosened a small screw. Grabbing the roll of black electrical tape, the newfound screw, and the Phillips screwdriver, Jimmy went to the front and crawled under the engine. Snippy stayed in the shade of the car, blinking away the flies and staring at Dennis.

Jimmy emerged after ten minutes, poured water into the radiator, and told Dennis to start the engine.

“What did you do with the screw?” Dennis asked.

“Screwed the little bugger in that hole—just the right size—an’ I taped the whole thing up. Should hold, I reckon. Start the engine, Denny. Let’s see if she starts.”

Dennis tried several times but to no avail; the engine would not catch.

“Let me try,” Jimmy said. “Hope you haven’t thrown a rod, mate. It’s a long walk back.”

By stomping on the gas pedal and cranking the engine, Jimmy finally got it to spew into life. Even Dennis knew it sounded terrible, coughing and sputtering a cloud of gray smoke from the exhaust.

But it started.

With the engine running, Jimmy crawled back underneath and stayed there for several minutes. Snippy stared suspiciously at Dennis and growled once or twice for good measure.