picked Scott up by the back of the neck and the seat of his pants and threw him onto the floorboard of the Impala.
Pork used the short barrel of his revolver to scratch his nuts, then put the gun behind him, under his Hawaiian shirt. “You boys are gonna go to the river bottoms with us and help us get shed of this nigger.”
“Yes, sir,” Farto said. “We’ll toss his ass in the Sabine for you.”
“How about you?” Pork asked Leonard. “You trying to go weak sister?”
“No,” Leonard croaked, “I’m with you.”
“That’s good,” Pork said. “Vinnie, you take the truck and lead the way.”
Vinnie took a key from his pocket and unlocked the building door next to the one with the light, went inside, and backed out a sharp-looking gold Dodge pickup. He backed it in front of the Impala and sat there with the motor running.
“You boys keep your place,” Pork said. He went inside the lighted building for a moment. They heard him say to the men inside, “Go on and watch the movies. And save some of them beers for us. We’ll be back.” Then the light went out and Pork came out, shutting the door. He looked at Leonard and Farto and said, “Drink up, boys.”
Leonard and Farto tossed off their warm Coke and whiskey and dropped the cups on the ground.
“Now,” Pork said, “you get in the back with the nigger, I’ll ride with the driver.”
Farto got in the back and put his feet on Scott’s knees. He tried not to look at the head wrapped in newspaper, but he couldn’t help it. When Pork opened the front door and the overhead light came on Farto saw there was a split in the paper and Scott’s eye was visible behind it. Across the forehead the wrapping had turned dark. Down by the mouth and chin was an ad for a fish sale.
Leonard got behind the wheel and started the car. Pork reached over and honked the horn. Vinnie rolled the pickup forward and Leonard followed him to the river bottoms. No one spoke. Leonard found himself wishing with all his heart that he had gone to the outdoor picture show to see the movie with the nigger starring in it.
The river bottoms were steamy and hot from the closeness of the trees and the under- and overgrowth. As Leonard wound the Impala down the narrow, red clay roads amidst the dense foliage, he felt as if his car were a crab crawling about in a pubic thatch. He could feel from the way the steering wheel handled that the dog and the chain were catching brush and limbs here and there. He had forgotten all about the dog and now being reminded of 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
