Puppy wiped his tears with the socks and followed her into the kitchen. Beth dried a dish over and over.
“You need help?”
Beth shook her head and laid the plate in the rack, meticulously washing a fork.
“I would’ve come earlier, but, you know.”
“I don’t.” She mimicked his shrug. He didn’t know, either.
Puppy took the fork and dried it. “I can get him a funeral.”
“Aren’t they illegal? One-stop shopping, pull the body out of the wreckage and burn it on the spot.”
Instant cremations were designed to avoid martyrs and too much attention to the dead. Six thousand and forty-eight, he’d been told during a briefing in Kenuda’s office about the aftermath. No one had an idea what aftermath meant. He, Mooshie and Kenuda were numb. Baseball was gone forever. Possession of any equipment or memorabilia was a capital offense. Treason. Abort a baby, swing a bat, now equal somehow. He couldn’t think ahead to anything. That’s why he hadn’t come earlier. He was wishing it all away and the smoke of the burning bodies wafting from Yankee Stadium made that impossible.
This was worse than 10/12. That was horrible but, like all tragedies, you could believe there was hope, that lessons would be learned. This was the second chance. There are no real lessons after that.
“Cheng will do me a favor.”
Beth laughed listlessly. “I forgot. The famous Puppy, the all-powerful Puppy. Snap your fingers and you can do anything. Can you really do anything, Puppy? Can you bring my son back to life?”
More tears slid down his cheeks. “At least I can get him a proper burial.”
“Proper?” Her eyes blazed.
“Not on a goddamn carpet.”
“I’m lucky they let me get away with that. He was a suspect.”
“What?”
“A suspect. He knew about the weapons stashed in the storage rooms at the stadium.”
Puppy didn’t think he could feel sicker.
“Ruben thought it was to protect the fans.” Beth shouted. “He only told Dale. Bad enough that he’s shot saving her life and she watches him die, but once they dragged her downtown… Go on. Go into his room. See what your friends Cheng and Grandma think.”
Beth pushed his exhausted body into Frecklie’s room. Broken chairs. Ripped mattress. Gaping holes in the walls, the floors. They’d smashed the windows just for fun.
“They did this while he lay in the other room.” Beth calmly returned to the kitchen; he followed, grabbing her arm.
“Do you blame me?”
“Is that all you care about?”
“I don’t have much left. I loved him, too, Beth.”
She stared back through the doorway at Frecklie. “I knew, too, Puppy. Not about any weapons, but I should’ve suspected Hazel. All the things I wouldn’t let my son do and on this, this I look away. But Ruben was so happy. Maybe part of me wanted this to happen. I was one of them, once.”
The two BTs stood in the doorway, rifles at a casually ominous angle. “We gotta collect.”
Puppy held up his hand. “Just wait. She has until midnight. I have the papers.”
The taller BT nodded at the clock. “Two minutes.”
Beth knelt by Frecklie, murmuring a prayer and crossing herself. Puppy watched the BTs roll their eyes.
He scooped Frecklie up and headed toward the back door. The BTs blocked his way.
“Sir, please put down the body. It must be cremated.”
“Not this one.”
“You have the papers. It’s a memorial service only.”
“I changed my mind.”
Their rifles pointed at his chest.
“Do you know who I am? I’m the famous Puppy Nedick. I saved Grandma’s life. I’m going to be honored in a couple days at Grandma’s House. Now if you want to shoot me and explain what happened, go ahead. You better have a really good story. Otherwise get the hell out of my way.”
The BTs nervously fidgeted with their weapons, finally slowly lowering them onto their hips.
“Get the shovel, Beth,” Puppy said hoarsely.
In the backyard, Beth dug ferociously, dirt flying into her hair. The BTs exchanged worried looks. The shorter one finally said, “Curfew’s starting.”
Puppy and Beth wrapped the boy in a clean white sheet and lowered him into the grave, carefully layering the dirt. The BTs stepped forward. Puppy pressed his nose against the BT’s visors.
“If this grave is ever disturbed, I will find you.”
He poured a handful of dirt into the guard’s pocket. The safety went off on the rifles; Beth grabbed the shovel. The shorter BT broke the staring contest with a poke into his comrade’s ribs and they angrily stomped around the side of the house.
“Do you want to say a prayer?” Puppy knelt beside Beth.
“It always embarrassed him.”
“He won’t know.”
Beth’s nostrils flared. “The point is, he does know. He’s with God now. In Heaven. Up there.”
“Thanks, I kind of figured out the direction.” Puppy smiled weakly.
Beth crossed herself. “Thank you, Puppy.” They stood silently staring at the grave. “What will you do?”
“I figure they’ll take care of me since I risked my ass to save Grandma.”
“You should’ve let her die,” Beth hissed.
“I can’t do things like that.”
She gave him a long look. “No. I don’t think you can.”
Puppy smoothed out the dirt on the grave. “At least you have your shop.”
Beth looked away.
“Guess not. You’re going after Zelda, aren’t you?”
She tossed aside a few pebbles.
“Even after this you still don’t trust me?” he snapped.
“Remember where you are,” she cautioned, sighing. “Yes, I’m going to find her.”
“Know where she is?”
“I followed Zelda that night to the camp. I’ve been there before.”
“During your brief summer training.” Beth just smiled. “When are you leaving?”
“Well, I have no customers anymore.”
Puppy insisted she take his special curfew pass.
“How will you get home?” Beth asked.
“I’m Puppy Beisbol.” Puppy searched on hands and knees for a couple twigs, pulling out one of his shoelaces and making an X shape.
“What’s this?” Beth frowned.
“A cross.”
Managing a wan
