“They know better than to get intense, right? Intense people rouse suspicions.”
“I think they’ll be fine. It’s a good story. Runaway boy, concerned folks.”
“You better hope they’re fine. Tell me how it goes.”
Dr. Hendricks came into the office without bothering to knock. There were circles under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, and his hair was standing up in a steel-gray ruff. “Any word?”
“Not yet.”
“Where’s Mrs. Sigsby?”
“Getting some badly needed rest.” Stackhouse leaned back in her chair and stretched. “The Dixon boy hasn’t had the tank, has he?”
“Of course not.” Donkey Kong looked vaguely offended at the very idea. “He’s not a pink. Farthest thing from one. To risk damaging a BDNF as high as his would be insane. Or to risk extending his abilities. Which would be unlikely but not impossible. Sigsby would have my head.”
“She won’t and he goes in it today,” Stackhouse said. “Dunk that little motherfucker until he thinks he’s dead, then dunk him some more.”
“Are you serious? He’s valuable property! One of the highest TP-positives we’ve had in years!”
“I don’t care if he can walk on water and shoot electricity out of his asshole when he farts. He helped Ellis get away. Have the Greek do it as soon as he comes back on duty. He loves putting them in the tank. Tell Zeke not to kill him, I do understand his value, but I want him to have an experience he’ll remember for as long as he can remember. Then take him to Back Half.”
“But Mrs. Sigsby—”
“Mrs. Sigsby agrees completely.”
Both men swung around. She was standing in the door between the office and her private quarters. Stackhouse’s first thought was that she looked as if she had seen a ghost, but that wasn’t quite right. She looked as if she were a ghost.
“Do it just the way he told you, Dan. If it damages his BDNF, so be it. He needs to pay.”
22
The train jerked into motion again, and Luke thought of some other song his grandma used to sing. Was it the one about the Midnight Special? He couldn’t remember. The doughnut crumbs had done nothing but sharpen his hunger and increase his thirst. His mouth was a desert, his tongue a sand dune within. He dozed, but couldn’t sleep. Time passed, he had no idea how much, but eventually pre-dawn light began to filter into the car.
Luke crawled over the swaying floor to the partially open door of the boxcar and peered out. There were trees, mostly straggly, second-growth pines, small towns, fields, then more trees. The train charged across a trestle, and he looked down at the river below with longing eyes. This time it wasn’t a song that came to mind but Coleridge. Water, water everywhere, Luke thought, the boxcar boards did shrink. Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink.
Probably polluted anyway, he told himself, and knew he would drink from it even if it was. Until his belly was bulging. Puking it up would be a pleasure because then he could drink more.
Just before the sun came up, red and hot, he began to smell salt in the air. Instead of farms, the buildings sliding past were now mostly warehouses and old brick factories with their windows boarded up. Cranes reared against the brightening sky. Planes were taking off not far away. For awhile the train ran beside a four-lane road. Luke saw people in cars with nothing to worry about but a day’s work. Now he could smell mudflats, dead fish, or both.
I would eat a dead fish if it wasn’t all maggoty, he thought. Maybe even if it was. According to National Geographic, maggots are a good source of organic protein.
The train began slowing, and Luke retreated to his hiding place. There were more thumps and bumps as his car went over points and crossings. At last it came to a stop.
It was an early hour, but this was a busy place, even so. Luke heard trucks. He heard men laughing and talking. A boombox or truck radio was playing Kanye, bass like a heartbeat first swelling, then fading. An engine went by on some other track, leaving behind a stink of diesel. There were several tremendous jerks as cars were coupled or uncoupled from Luke’s train. Men shouted in Spanish, and Luke picked out some of the profanities: puta mierda, hijo de puta, chupapollas.