the room. A railroader’s pillowtick cap was perched on his head. “Hello, Hector,” Tim said.
“Hello to you,” Hector said. He glanced at the bloody boy sitting in Craig Jackson’s easy chair, not showing much interest, then returned his attention to Tim. “My secondman tells me I have a couple of generators for you, a bunch of lawn tractors and such, about a ton of canned goods, and another ton of fresh produce. I am running late, Timmy my boy, and if you don’t unload me, you can send the fleet of trucks this town doesn’t have to pick up your goods in Brunswick.”
Tim stood up. “Annie, can you keep this young man company until the doctor gets here? I have to go run a forklift for awhile.”
“I can handle that. If he pitches a fit I’ll put something in his mouth.”
“I’m not going to pitch a fit,” the boy said.
“That’s what they all say,” Annie retorted, rather obscurely.
“Son,” Hector said, “did you stow away on my train?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Well, since you’re off it now that’s nothing to me. The cops’ll deal with you, I guess. Tim, I see you got a situation here, but goods won’t wait, so help a man out. Where’s your goddam crew? I only seen one guy, and he’s in the office on the phone.”
“That’s Hollister from the local motel, and I can’t see him unloading anything. Except maybe for his bowels, first thing in the morning.”
“Nasty,” Orphan Annie said, although she might have been referring to the gatefolds, which she was still studying.
“The Beeman boys are supposed to be here, but those two no-accounts seem to be running late. Like you.”
“Ah, Christ.” Hector took off his cap and ran a hand through his thick black hair. “I hate these milk-runs. Unloading went slow in Wilmington, too. A goddam Lexus got stuck on one of the carriers. Well, let’s see what we can do.”
Tim followed Hector to the door, then turned back. “Your name isn’t Nick, is it?”
The boy considered, then said, “It will do for now.”
“Don’t let him move,” Tim said to Annie. “If he tries, give me a holler.” And to the bloody boy, who looked very small and badly used: “We’re going to discuss this when I get back. That work for you?”
The kid thought it over, then gave a tired nod. “I guess it has to.”
2
When the men were gone, Orphan Annie found a couple of clean rags in a basket under the sink. After wetting them with cold water, she wrung one out tight and the other loose. She handed him the tight one. “Put that on your ear.”
Luke did so. It stung. She used the other to clean the blood from his face, working with a gentleness that made him think of his mother. Annie stopped what she was doing and asked him—with equal gentleness—why he was crying.
“I miss my mom.”
“Why, now, I bet she misses you, too.”
“Not unless consciousness somehow continues after death. I’d like to believe it, but empirical evidence suggests that’s not the case.”
“Continues? Oh, it surely does.” Annie went to the sink and began rinsing blood from the rag she’d been using. “Some say that souls gone on take no interest in the earthly sphere, nummore than we care about the goings-ons of ants in anthills, but I ain’t one of those some. I believe they pay attention. I’m sorry she’s passed, son.”
“Do you think their love continues?” The idea was silly, he knew that, but it was good silly.
“Sure. Love don’t die with the earthly body, son. It’s a purely ridiculous notion. How long since she went on?”
“Maybe a month, maybe six weeks. I’ve pretty much lost track of time. They were murdered, and I was kidnapped. I know that’s hard to believe—”
Annie went to work on the rest of the blood. “Not hard if you’re in the know.” She tapped her temple below the brim of her sombrero. “Did they come in black cars?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“And were they doing experiments on you?”
Luke’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know that?”
“George Allman,” she said. “He’s on WMDK from midnight until four in the morning. His show is about walk-ins, and UFOs, and psychic powers.”
“Psychic powers? Really?”
“Yes, and the conspiracy. Do you know about the conspiracy, son?”
“Sort of,” Luke said.
“George Allman’s show is called The Outsiders. People call in, but mostly it’s just him talking. He doesn’t say it’s aliens, or the government, or the government working with