Wormwood

difficult thing to do… getting it through all that bone.” Another shake of the head, and then the words seemed to dry up inside her.

She set the knife down as if wary of it.

A long, uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

“Are you sure that’s what you really want?” Larry asked, his voice firm, unmistakable.

Melinda nodded, her dark hair hanging in a stringy veil. “I’ve been here for a long time. Weeks and weeks it seems… and the people who come here are either dead or worse… like desperate animals. They take what they want and then leave. They kill each other over things that don’t matter anymore. I saw a man kill his wife because she dropped a bottle of whisky. It was an accident… she was opening her backpack to put some chocolate bars inside and the bottle just slipped and smashed on the floor.” Her voice began to crack, as if the incident were still very vivid in her mind. “The man went crazy then. He had a big metal flashlight in his hand and he started screaming. He hit her over the head with it.” She shuddered, her eyes tightly shut against the horror of it. “The sound it made… and he kept hitting her with it, even after the light stopped working.”

She looked at Shane, then at Larry.

“I don’t want to live in a place where people do that to one another, where they die and come back wanting to eat their own children. At first I thought it might pass, that it would run its course and then things would go back to the way they’d been, but now… now everyone I know is dead and nothing’s ever going to be the way it used to be!” She started to cry and neither Shane nor Larry could summon any words to comfort her. After a full day out on the road, there wasn’t much they had seen to be optimistic about.

Her tears didn’t last long; apparently she’d almost cried herself out over such things. What was left was mostly hollow, an empty shell that wanted only to lie down in peace.

“Why don’t you tell Shane where the water is,” Larry suggested.

She looked up from her shoes to where he lay on the floor, a dim glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“I promise you,” he said softly, the revolver in his hand.

18

“You can’t mean it!” Shane objected, the outrage in his voice upsetting the candles, causing a corner of the office to flicker. “You can’t just shoot her like a rabid dog!”

Larry looked up at him. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Shane could hardly believe his ears. “Because she’s depressed! She’s not thinking right!”

“Maybe it’s the two of us who aren’t thinking right, coming all this way on a fool’s errand.”

Shane’s face hardened as if slapped. Slapped hard. “It’s not a fool’s errand,” he contended, his voice low and heated, like a banked bed of coals. He pointed at his backpack as if it offered irrefutable proof. “I came to get those for my father and I got them!”

“Yes, but how do you know he’s not already dead? Or what if Quail Street no longer exists?” If his earlier words were a cold slap, these were a pointed kick in the balls. “I’m going to tell you a thing or two, Shane, and I’m afraid you’re not going to like it much.”

Larry’s brow was dotted with sweat, as if speaking had become an effort for him.

“The first is that I never intended to go back. Now maybe that doesn’t come as a complete surprise to you, but that’s the way it is. I had intended to see you back home, but with my arm the way it is, that’s not going to happen anymore. I’d be a lump of deadweight on the back of that bike, unable to hold on much less defend myself, and I know for sure you’ve thought about that. You’re a smart kid, so let’s just leave it at that and not argue the point. I have no desire to die out there in that jungle; so if I get to choose, I’ll sit right here in this office and wait out my fate; and in the end, I’m keeping my gun to make sure I don’t come back.”

“You’re giving up?” Shane said, aghast. Contempt in his tone, though there were tears in his lashes. “You’re just going to sit here in this fucking room holding a gun to your head?”

Larry winced a little at the image. “I don’t think I’ll have to wait all that long, but yes, if that’s the way you want to see it, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Frankly speaking, I don’t think there are enough drugs in that backpack to cure me; your dad either, for that matter; but that’s only my opinion; frank and uninformed. If things were different… if my gun hadn’t caught in that gate and if my arm were whole and my wife and two sons were still alive, then there might still be some fight in me. But then given all that, there’s no reason to suppose I’d be sitting here, is there?”

Shane wiped his face and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I gave up on life when I lost my faith in God. If not then, it was surely the minute I put a bullet in my dead son’s brain. After that… Jan, Mark, this whole long day… I’ve been more or less a dead man walking, looking for a place where I could lie down and die. Last night by the fire, I agreed to come with you because I knew I’d find that place along the way.”

Larry looked around the room and nodded, as if satisfied. “It’s not exactly paradise, but it looks all right by candlelight.” His eyes found Shane again. “And more importantly, I get to choose it. Not something by the name of Wormwood.”

“But what about me?” Shane pleaded, his tears spilling openly now. “How am I going to get back home without you? I can’t drive the motorbike!”

Larry smiled. “Sure you can. There’s not much to it, and like I said, you’re a smart kid. You’ll figure it out, and it will go much faster without me. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but with some luck you’ll make it. And to that end, the best thing you can do for yourself is get a good night’s sleep.” He looked at Melinda. “I’d imagine there’s some food around here as well as water?”

Slowly, as if hypnotized by this drama, she nodded.

“I can’t imagine that she and I will have much use for it, so why don’t you go ahead and patch up my arm as best you can with those cotton balls and nylon stockings, dole me out a few more pills… and while you’re doing that Melinda can get the food and water. We’ll have a last meal together then she and I can sit up and watch over you while you sleep. Get to know one another.”

Larry grinned, tears streaming helplessly down his face.

“Who knows? Maybe after you’re gone, she and I will decide to run away together.”

19

When Shane awoke, half the candles had burned out and the rest were drowning, little more than blackened wicks floating in a last spoonful of paraffin. There were no windows or skylights within the office, but something inside him seemed to know that the sun would soon be rising.

He sat up and rubbed his face.

“Morning,” Larry said, looking worse for the night, red lines of infection spreading up and down his arm. Melinda was snoring softly against the floor, her respirations slow and labored.

“What time is it?” Shane asked, his mouth dry and thirsty.

“Time for you to think about leaving,” Larry answered.

20

Shane retrieved the shotgun from beneath the checkout counter and gazed at the silhouettes moving