don’t mean to, says Bonnie.
Yeah you do, says Mal.
I don’t.
I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care. Come on.
Mal drives an old green Chevy Suburban that is as wide as a boat and it makes Bonnie scared because she’s sure it’ll tip over, yet somehow it never does. They drive north, straight north, because Bonnie lives on the southern side of Wink, which is not the “wrong side of the railroad tracks” because there are no railroad tracks in Wink, but if there were then Bonnie’s neighborhood would be on the wrong side of them.
It is that kind of neighborhood. There are a lot of trailers.
Have you been dreaming more? asks Mal as she drives.
Bonnie shakes her head.
Well, that’s good.
Bonnie shakes her head again.
It’s not good?
No, says Bonnie.
Why not?
Not sleeping.
What? You’re not sleeping anymore?
No. I don’t like it.
That’ll kill you, you know. You’ll burn yourself up.
Bonnie doesn’t answer. She stares out the car window. Rolls it down slowly.
You don’t want to know why, do you? asks Bonnie.
You’re right, says Mal. I don’t want to know why.
I’ll tell you.
I said I don’t want to know why.
I’ll tell you anyway. You put him in my head. You deserve to know.
Mal is silent. Though Bonnie slavishly adores Mal, she enjoys seeing her so disturbed. It is a power she has never had before.
Because when night comes, when I sleep, says Bonnie, there’s another corner in my room. I can’t see it, because I’m dreaming. But I know it’s there. There’s a fifth corner, suddenly out of nowhere, where it shouldn’t be. It’s like a door opens, and then there it is. And he’s always there. Standing in the corner. He’s got his back to me. I don’t know why. But he’s always there. And even though I can’t see his face I can tell he’s watching me. I don’t think he needs eyes to watch me. I think where he’s from no one needs eyes. They have other ways of seeing things.
You’ve said this before.
Have I?
Yeah. Mal asks, Where is he from?
I don’t know. Somewhere far away. And underneath. Like when you flip over a board lying on the ground and there’s all these bugs underneath. But it’s not quite like that.
No?
No. It’s more like you flip over a board and you see it’s not the ground under there but a whole ocean, big and black, and there are things looking up at you from down there, watching you. They’ve been watching you all this time.
Jesus Christ. I hate talking to you when you’re high.
I’m not high.
You are. You fucking are. Look at you.
Bonnie laughs. I’m higher than high, she says. She holds her hands out the window as if to embrace the sky. I’m higher than higher than higher than high, she says.
Shut up, says Mal. Now you’re just being irritating.
Maybe, says Bonnie. She looks into the sky and drops her arms. You want to hear something funny? she asks.
I don’t want to hear a goddamn thing after all the talking you’ve done.
I wonder whose sky that’s in, she says, and she points up.
Mal ducks her head down to peer up through the windshield. What, she says, the moon?
Yeah.
What do you mean, whose sky it’s in?
Bonnie stares at the moon. It is so huge, so pink, so smooth. She murmurs, I mean what I said. I just don’t think that it’s in ours. It must be in someone else’s. Maybe it’s their sky…
Shut up, says Mal.
Okay.
The Suburban goes straight into the heart of Wink, around the park with the dome and past the shops to a small dirt road that leads to a concrete ravine. Mal pulls the Suburban forward so that the headlights are pointing down into the ravine. Then she throws it in park and the two of them just sit there for a while, looking at the blank concrete, all lit up white in the brights. The ravine tapers away, ending in a wide, black drainage tunnel in the side of the hill.
They want two this time, says Mal.
Two?
Yes. Just put two in the box.
Hm, says Bonnie.
Silence.
Well, says Mal. You know how it works.
I know how it works.
Mal waits. She gets impatient. She reaches over and opens the glove compartment. Inside is a small glass lantern, like the kind miners used back in the nineteenth century, a pair of gloves, and a wooden box with a brass clasp.
She says, So are you going or are you going?
Bonnie stares into the black hole at the end of the ravine. She