“Tell him I have a tattoo,” Molly said, “a butterfly.”
Duncan told Vin. “He said he’d like to see it someday.”
“Oh, it’s in kind of a private place.”
“In that case, I’d like to see it someday.”
Molly’s eyes flicked up at the mirror, but she could see only Luke’s dark face. Duncan laughed and told the boy. Vin tucked his head, mortified.
“You didn’t have to embarrass him,” said Molly.
“He’ll survive.”
“Listen to you.” It was Luke, his voice hard.
“Yeah?” asked Duncan.
“You’re losing yourself.”
“No harm in connecting with the culture. It is their country.”
“Maybe,” Luke said, “you should stick with your own kind.”
“And why is that?” said Duncan.
“It’s all tricks, you know,” Luke said. “You’re only fooling yourself.”
Duncan’s smile faded.
Molly turned to Luke. Talk about bad luck children. “What about you?” she tried. “Where do you come from?”
It was like talking into an empty pipe. He said nothing more. The Jolly Rancher candy sat in his hand. After that the talk died. The miles went by.
A small light flipped on and off as Duncan periodically marked their position on a map spread across his legs. She guessed they must have covered two hundred miles, though it was impossible to know with the gauges broken or unhooked and the dash light dead.
For years the American embassy had been warning against travel into the distant provinces, especially at night. Rogue soldiers and war cripples were epidemic, with a nasty habit of highway robbery. The wars were over, she told herself. Those days were done. But she knew they were not really. Violence lay just beneath the skin here. Rebels still came together for various causes, and the countryside held more land mines per square mile than even Afghanistan or Bosnia.
But mile after mile there were no roadblocks, no highwaymen, and Molly tried to relax. Apparently the bandits had exploited the road too efficiently. It seemed they’d driven themselves right out of business.
During one stop to put more oil in the smoking truck, Kleat came up to them.
Molly made some remark about the wild night driving.
“You’re afraid? Good,” said Kleat. “Fear is a gift. It purifies us. Listen to it and you can see right through the night.” He was exultant. “And how’s our guide? How are you doing, Slick?” he said to Luke.
Luke looked at him. “Johnny Hollywood,” he said, like he knew him.
It startled Kleat. He flinched, almost as if it meant something. He spit on the road. “Do we have some problem?”
“Are you really sure you want to be here?” Luke asked him.
Kleat glanced suspiciously at Molly and Duncan to see if they’d been talking among themselves. Molly shook her head at him and frowned. She didn’t know what this was about.
“I’m helping pay for your ride, aren’t I?” Kleat said to Luke.
“That don’t make it your party. Slick.”
“How’s that?” Kleat said.
But Luke only trained his eyes back on the road. He had nothing more to add. Molly couldn’t make sense of it. Neither one of them played well with others. But hell if she was going to be the mommy. Let them sort it out.
Kleat let loose his grip on. He returned to the truck and climbed up into the cab. The convoy started off again, back into the flash of metal giants roaring by in the night.
The moon broke from the clouds, and the paddies bracketing the road jumped to life. The highway became a dark strip sandwiched between hundreds of reflected moons. The land turned dreamlike, a world of harbored water arranged in honeycombs. The clouds sailed over, returning them to darkness.
Molly checked her watch. Barely eleven. A long night of the soul still ahead. Thankfully, whether because of the deepening night or their growing remoteness, the traffic grew sparse. They passed more villages, more paddy fields with their thousand moons.
“Mamot,” Duncan noted. The map rustled. A little later, he said, “Snuol, is that where we’re going?”
Molly could see Luke in the rearview mirror, his face yellow in the penlight. He tapped his dusty head. “I haven’t forgot. It’s all up here.”
“Up there,” said Duncan. “Is that like a state of mind or something?”
Molly listened. It wasn’t like Duncan to taunt.
“What’s to worry?” said Luke.
“It’s just that you seem to be making it up as we go along.”
“And you’re not?”
Molly wanted Duncan to leave it alone. If the night was a bust, it was their own fault. Luke wasn’t duping them. They were duping themselves. He had whispered to their expectations, and they had run with it. The man wasn’t about to give up his secret, and that was that. Their destination, real or not, was the only currency he had. She wished Duncan would quit worrying with the maps and turn off his light. It glared on the windshield and made the road that much harder to read.
“Run it past me again,” Duncan said, “how you found this place.”
“It seemed like the place to go,” said Luke.
Duncan persisted. “You were just out knocking around? Slumming in the provinces?”
“Like that.”
“Except you don’t have the look of a tourist. More like a runaway.”
That had been another conjecture among RE-1, that the gypsy had escaped from some Asian jail. It would explain why he stayed at a distance, but always stayed. According to the theory, he was scared and homesick and needed their proximity. He didn’t sound scared or homesick tonight.
“There’s things you can’t run from,” Luke said. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Not really. You can thank Mr. Kleat for our presence. He’s the one so hungry for it.” Duncan didn’t mention Molly, even though she was his real reason for coming along.
“The big appetite.” Luke seemed amused. “What’s he think is up there?”
Up where? Along the road or higher? Molly was listening intently.
For a month, Kleat had been slandering Duncan behind his back, calling him a liar, a sad sack, a fraud, laboring to get him tossed from the dig. Duncan wasn’t stupid. Molly knew he knew. Now was his chance to strike back.
Instead, Duncan said only, “Redemption.”
It was gracefully said, and Molly was glad for it. Somewhere in the complicated knot that was John Kleat was a human thread. It would take a good heart to see it so cleanly, and Duncan was saying he’d seen it. She was glad, not because she cared about Kleat, but because Duncan was a rock. Maybe she could trust him.
“Redemption?” said Luke.
“He’s been looking for his brother for years.”
A noise came from the backseat, startling Molly. It sounded like an animal—a monkey, a jackal, something with sharp teeth—a single, feral bark. A hoot. Vin jerked his head to see in the mirror.
It was a laugh, but not like anything Molly had ever heard. “He says that?” said Luke. “He says his brother?”
“I’m missing the joke,” said Molly.
“What brother?” said Luke.
“He went missing in the war. It’s unfinished business.”
“You sure you want to be sticking up for him?”
“I’m just telling you.”
“He wants back in,” Luke told her. “That’s how come he tracked you down. He thinks he found a ride. He thinks he’s going home.”
