and Dani couldn’t help but imagine their jagged fists pounding the van—and the two of them—into scrap. She wished she knew what would provoke them.
“A mess?” she echoed as Ben slid the side door open and rummaged in the back for his mop. “This place couldn’t be more disgusting. I’ll wait in the van while you talk to this guy.”
“First you can barely stand the ride, now you wanna camp out in there? Nothin doin’. C’mon.” He rapped on the side of the van. “No whining.”
She double-checked the back, where Tetris’ cage had been secured on one of the shelves. Reassuring herself that he’d be fine—and praying she would be—she eased out.
Something crunched under a boot. She danced away to find an enormous cockroach mashed into the gravel, feelers and legs twitching. She bit her tongue to contain a dismayed squeal.
Typhoid. Rabies. Dysentery.
As she edged around the dying insect, she noticed the shack set against a mound on the side of the clearing. Though “shack” was an exaggeration; more of an outhouse, with a sheet of rusted steel as a roof and rotting plywood walls. A hole had been cut through the front door, with a rubber tire rimming it. No door handle, so one would have to stick a finger into a knothole to yank it open, risking splinters or bites from anything waiting inside.
She’d let Ben handle that.
Ben went to the middle of the clearing and faced the door, mop in hand. Grateful for the heavy rubber boots and jumpsuit, Dani minced her way over as rubbish cracked, crunched, and squished beneath her feet. After a minute, Ben made an impatient noise and cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Stewart,” he shouted, “get out here, or I’m gonna call the Sanitation Department and let ’em know I caught you huffin’ diapers!”
Dani gagged and clutched her stomach. Then she jumped back as a rat scurried up to them. A second later, she realized it wasn’t a real rodent, but one glued together from a toy car chassis, with red LED lights for eyes and a rubber tube for a tail. It squeaked—not an animal noise, but that of rusty hinges opening—as its lower jaw dropped, revealing a metal grille.
“Whaddya want?” The harsh voice made her wince.
“A red carpet and gold-engraved invitation,” Ben said, scowling down at the fake rodent. “Do you gotta be so paranoid?”
“Since we’s agreed you’d never turn up here again after what you did last time, yes. I’s a mite suspectin’. Besides, you gots company.”
Ben tilted his head her way. “This is Dani. She’s my apprentice.”
“I don’t be carin’ if she’s the Pope’s daughter. She don’t be welcome.”
Ben leaned over to look the rat in one shiny red eye. “You’re bein’ a grouch, Stewart. I even brought that Babe Ruth you’ve been lookin’ for, but now I think I might just keep it for myself.”
“Boston Store number 147? 1916? You found it?”
“Sure for shootin’. But I’m only givin’ it to you face-to-face. And you’re gonna say thanks, all polite-like.”
The rat’s rubber tail twitched, though Dani couldn’t see any mechanism to make it do so.
“Gimme a sec.”
The mechanical rat scampered away while thumping and rattling came from the mound ahead of them, like numerous gates and doors being opened and then shut again.
“I thought you said this guy was a friend,” she said.
He sighed and stuck hands in his pockets. “It’s been a while.”
“What’d you do last time?”
A wince. “Tell you later.”
The outhouse door opened with a crunch and crack, revealing a tunnel deeper into the mound. Stewart shuffled out and shut the door before making his way over to them.
Hunched and withered, he wore a sports coat made of yellowed newspapers. A candy bar wrapper had been pinched into the shape of a bow tie by a rubber band and pinned beneath his prominent Adam’s apple. The green, plastic St. Paddy’s day bowler cap on his head had several cracks in it, and he walked barefoot over the old nails, broken bottles and metal scrap that littered the ground without so much as a spot of blood in his wake.
“Card,” he said, by way of hello.
Ben reached into his breast pocket and drew out a plastic-sealed baseball card, which he handed over. Stewart smacked his lips as he examined it.
“Oh, yessirree. My scissors will be havin’ a bloomin’ feast soon enough.” The card vanished into his paper jacket. “All righty. What ya wantin’?”
Ben raised hands to both of them once they faced each other. “Dani, meet Stewart.