it worried him. What if the dog got tangled and he had to stop? He didn’t think Pork would take kindly to stopping, not with the dead burrhead on the floorboards and him wanting to get rid of the body.
Finally they came to where the woods cleared out a spell and they drove along the edge of the Sabine River. Leonard hated water and always had. In the moonlight the river looked like poisoned coffee flowing there. Leonard knew there were alligators and gars big as little alligators and water moccasins by the thousands swimming underneath the water, and just the thought of all those slick, darting bodies made him queasy.
They came to what was known as Broken Bridge. It was an old worn-out bridge that had fallen apart in the middle and it was connected to the land on this side only. People sometimes fished off of it. There was no one fishing tonight.
Vinnie stopped the pickup and Leonard pulled up beside it, the nose of the Chevy pointing at the mouth of the bridge. They all got out and Pork made Farto pull Scott out by the feet. Some of the newspapers came loose from Scott’s head exposing an ear and part of the face. Farto patted the newspaper back into place.
“Fuck that,” Vinnie said. “It don’t hurt if he stains the fucking ground. You two idgits find some stuff to weight this coon down so we can sink him.”
Farto and Leonard started scurrying about like squirrels, looking for rocks or big, heavy logs. Suddenly they heard Vinnie cry out. “Godamighty, fucking A. Pork. Come look at this.”
Leonard looked over and saw that Vinnie had discovered Rex. He was standing looking down with his hands on his hips. Pork went over to stand by him, then Pork turned around and looked at them. “Hey, you fucks, come here.”
Leonard and Farto joined them in looking at the dog. There was mostly just a head now, with a little bit of meat and fur hanging off a spine and some broken ribs.
“That’s the sickest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” Pork said.
“Godamighty,” Vinnie said.
“Doing a dog like that. Shit, don’t you got no heart? A dog. Man’s best fucking goddamn friend and you two killed him like this.”
“We didn’t kill him,” Farto said.
“You trying to fucking tell me he done this to himself? Had a bad fucking day and done this.”
“Godamighty,” Vinnie said.
“No, sir,” Leonard said. “We chained him on there after he was dead.”
“I believe that,” Vinnie said. “That’s some rich shit. You guys murdered this dog. Godamighty.”
“Just thinking about him trying to keep up and you fucks driving faster and faster makes me mad as a wasp,” Pork said.
“No,” Farto said. “It wasn’t like that. He was dead and we were drunk and we didn’t have anything to do, so we—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Pork said, sticking a finger hard against Farto’s forehead. “You just shut the fuck up. We can see what the fuck you fucks did. You drug this here dog around until all his goddamn hide came off … What kind of mothers you boys got anyhow that they didn’t tell you better about animals?”
“Godamighty,” Vinnie said.
Everyone grew silent, stood looking at the dog. Finally Farto said, “You want us to go back to getting some stuff to hold the nigger down?”
Pork looked at Farto as if he had just grown up whole from the ground. “You fucks are worse than niggers, doing a dog like that. Get on back over to the car.”
Leonard and Farto went over to the Impala and stood looking down at Scott’s body in much the same way they had stared at the dog. There, in the dim moonlight shadowed by trees, the paper wrapped around Scott’s head made him look like a giant papier-mache doll. Pork came up and kicked Scott in the face with a swift motion that sent newspapers flying and sent a thonking sound across the water that made frogs jump.
“Forget the nigger,” Pork said. “Give me your car keys, ball sweat.” Leonard took out his keys and gave them to Pork and Pork went around to the trunk and opened it. “Drag the nigger over here.”
Leonard took one of Scott’s arms and Farto took the other and they pulled him over to the back of the car.
“Put him in the trunk,” Pork said.
“What for?” Leonard asked.
“’Cause I fucking said so,” Pork said.
Leonard and Farto heaved Scott into the trunk. He looked pathetic lying there next to the spare tire, his face partially covered with newspaper. Leonard thought, if only the nigger had stolen a car with a spare he might not be here tonight. He could have gotten that flat changed and driven on before the White Tree boys even came along.
“All right, you get in there with him,” Pork said, gesturing to Farto.
“Me?” Farto said.
“Nah, not fucking you, the fucking elephant on your fucking shoulder. Yeah, you, get in the trunk. I ain’t got all night.”
“Jesus, we didn’t do anything to that dog, mister. We told you that. I swear. Me and Leonard hooked him up after he was dead … It was Leonard’s idea.”
Pork didn’t say a word. He just stood there with one hand on the trunk lid looking at Farto. Farto looked at Pork, then the trunk, then back to Pork. Lastly he looked at Leonard, then climbed into the trunk, his back to Scott.
“Like spoons,” Pork said, and closed the lid. “Now you, whatsit, Leonard? You come over here.” But Pork didn’t wait for Leonard to move. He scooped the back of Leonard’s neck with a chubby hand and pushed him over to where Rex lay at the end of the chain with Vinnie still looking down at him.
“What you think, Vinnie?” Pork asked. “You got what I got in mind?”
Vinnie nodded. He bent down and took the collar off the dog. He fastened it on Leonard. Leonard could smell the odor of the dead dog in his nostrils. He bent his head and puked.
“There goes my shoeshine,” Vinnie said, and he hit Leonard a short one in the stomach. Leonard went to his knees and puked some more of the hot Coke and whiskey.
“You fucks are the lowest pieces of shit on this earth, doing a dog like that,” Vinnie said. “A nigger ain’t no lower.”
Vinnie got some strong fishing line out of the back of the truck and they tied Leonard’s hands behind his back. Leonard began to cry.
“Oh shut up,” Pork said. “It ain’t that bad. Ain’t nothing that bad.”
But Leonard couldn’t shut up. He was caterwauling now and it was echoing through the trees. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he had gone to the show with the nigger starring in it and had fallen asleep in his car and was having a bad dream, but he couldn’t imagine that. He thought about Harry the janitor’s flying saucers with the peppermint rays, and he knew if there were any saucers shooting rays down, they weren’t boredom rays after all. He wasn’t a bit bored.
Pork pulled off Leonard’s shoes and pushed him back flat on the ground and pulled off the socks and stuck them in Leonard’s mouth so tight he couldn’t spit them out. It wasn’t that Pork thought anyone was going to hear Leonard, he just didn’t like the noise. It hurt his ears.
Leonard lay on the ground in the vomit next to the dog and cried silently. Pork and Vinnie went over to the Impala and opened the doors and stood so they could get a grip on the car to push. Vinnie reached in and moved the gear from park to neutral and he and Pork began to shove the car forward. It moved slowly at first, but as it made the slight incline that led down to the old bridge, it picked up speed. From inside the trunk, Farto hammered lightly at the lid as if he didn’t really mean it. The chain took up slack and Leonard felt it jerk and pop his neck. He began to slide along the ground like a snake.
Vinnie and Pork jumped out of the way and watched the car make the bridge and go over the edge and disappear into the water with amazing quietness. Leonard, pulled by the weight of the car, rustled past them. When he hit the bridge, splinters tugged at his clothes so hard they ripped his pants and underwear down almost to his knees.
The chain swung out once toward the edge of the bridge and the rotten railing, and Leonard tried to hook a leg around an upright board there, but that proved wasted. The weight of the car just pulled his knee out of joint
