naked lightbulb. What could Krill or Dowling do to him that hadn’t been done to him before? Cody was a survivor. Screw these guys, he thought.
He rolled over in bed and let the soft blue coolness of the dawn seep inside his eyelids and lull him back to sleep. That was when he heard a sound that made no sense. Someone was brushing his teeth in Cody’s bathroom. He sat up in bed and stared in disbelief at a man who was bent over the lavatory, jerking Cody’s toothbrush like a ragged stick in his mouth, toothpaste and saliva running down his fingers and wrist.
The figure looked like a half-formed ape wearing a vest and striped trousers without a shirt or belt, his skin streaked with tufts of orange hair. A knife in a scabbard was tied flatly along his upper right arm with leather thongs. He stopped brushing and cupped water into his mouth and spat into the lavatory. “How you doin’, man?” he asked.
“You’re using my toothbrush.”
“Yeah, it’s a good one, man.”
“How’d you get in?”
“You were supposed to make a signal fire. How come you didn’t do that? Krill is pissed at you.”
“Signal fire for what?”
“About that crazy man who killed those two guys down below. He had a machine gun. You can hear it a long way, man. You didn’t hear nothing?”
“I was gone. I didn’t hear or see anything. All I know is what was on the news. Get out of here.”
“A friend of ours says your truck was parked here all day yesterday. You calling our friend a liar?”
“Where’s Krill?”
“Outside, looking through your telescope at la china. He’s got a fascination with her. Know why that is?”
“No. I mean I don’t care. I just want you guys out of my life.”
“Krill’s children were killed by a U.S. Army helicopter. They wasn’t baptized. He thinks la china can do it for him. At least he’s been thinking that up till now. Guess why Krill likes you?”
“Likes me?”
“Yeah, man, you’re lucky. He likes you a lot, even when he’s pissed at you. He needs you to do him a favor. You got a lot of luck.”
“What kind of favor?”
“He wants you to baptize his kids.”
“You said they’re dead.”
“Yeah, man, they’re dead. They’re gonna be that way a long time.”
“I cain’t baptize dead people. Nobody can.”
“Why not? They’re the ones that need it most. I was baptized when I was born. It didn’t do me no good. Maybe it’s better to get baptized after you die. Then you can’t fuck things up anymore.”
“How long have his kids been dead?”
“A lot of years, man.”
“Then they’re buried, right? In Nicaragua or El Salvador or Guatemala or one of those other shitholes, right?”
“Not exactly.”
Cody waited for Negrito to go on, his heart dilating with fear for reasons he didn’t understand. Negrito was grinning at him, his eyes lit with a lunatic shine. “They’re in a box,” Negrito said. “He carried it around a long time, then buried it in the desert.”
“They’re what?”
“He’s got them in a wood box. Their bones look like sticks inside skin that’s all shriveled up. Like little mummies. When you shake the box, you can hear them rattle.”
“That’s sick.”
“Say that to Krill and see what happens. He talks to them, man. Krill’s brain is a couple of quarts down sometimes. That’s why he’s out here in a place that’s like a big skillet. That’s why all of you are here. It’s a place for losers, man. You ain’t figured that out?”
“Figured out what?”
“Why you live here. You, la china, the crazy man they call Preacher Jack. Krill understands. But you can’t figure it out? You’re saying you’re not as smart as Krill?”
“Smart about what?”
“About who you are, man. About where you live. Krill says you’re in the belly of God. That’s what Krill thinks the desert is. You thought I was scary, huh? What you think now, man? Look at Krill. He takes scalps ’cause he’s more Indian than white. You gonna tell him you ain’t gonna baptize his kids ’cause they already turned into mummies? You got that kind of guts? I sure ain’t.”
“That’s what it will take to get shut of y’all?”
“No, man. That’s just a small part of it.”
Negrito removed the knife from the scabbard tied down on his upper arm and began cleaning his nails as though he had forgotten the point of the conversation. His hand slipped, and the tip of the knife sliced open the ball of his index finger. He watched a thick drop of blood well from the proud tissue, then inserted his finger in his mouth and sucked the wound clean.
“Go on with what you were saying. What does Krill want?” Cody said.
“Your soul, man. What’d you think?” Negrito replied. “He collects souls that he wants to take with him into the next world. Why are you so stupid, my little gringo friend?”
That same morning, Maydeen Stoltz walked into Hackberry’s office without knocking, her mouth glossy with lipstick. She waited as though gathering her thoughts, her love handles protruding over her belt. “A guy who refuses to give his name has called twice on the business line and demands I put you on the phone,” she said.
“Demands?”
“I think he said, ‘Get to it, woman.’”
“What’s on his mind?”
“He wouldn’t say. He claims you two go back.” She looked at him blankly.
“What are you not telling me?”
“His voice isn’t one you forget. I think I talked to him once last year.”
“Collins?”
“How many sexist pricks call in on the business line?”
“If he calls again, put him through.”
“I put him on hold. I also told him if I get my hands on him, his brains are gonna be running out his nose.”
“You said that to Jack Collins?”
“If that’s who he is.”
“I’m going to pick up now. See if you can get a trace.”
“Watch yourself, Hack.”
He winked at her and lifted the receiver to his ear. Oddly, it gave off a sound like a high wind blowing through the holes in the earpiece. “This is Sheriff Holland. Can I help you?” he said.
“I thought I ought to check in. We haven’t talked in a while.”
The accent was what a linguist would call southern midlands, a dialect common on the plains west of Fort Worth and up through Oklahoma, the pronunciations attenuated, as though the speaker doesn’t have enough oxygen in his blood. This speaker sounded like he had put a teaspoon of metal filings in his morning coffee.
“It’s good to hear from you, Mr. Collins. I had you figured for dead,” Hackberry said.
“In a way, I was.”
“Can you clarify that? I’m not that fast.”
“I did penance for one year. I ate from people’s garbage and slept in caves and wore rags and washed myself with wet ash. I think you know why.”
“I dug those girls up. I wish you could have shared the experience with me. I think you’d find your role as penitent a little absurd.”
“Judge me as you will.”
“Oh, I will.”
