this girl was the kind
he favored. And now here she was in the flesh, wearing only a T-shirt and panties, her right leg tucked beneath her. She seemed
to feel safe. The night pressed snugly against her window. She had posters of rock bands on the wall behind her: Arcade Fire,
TV on the Radio, and some band called Drive Fast & Shut Your Eyes. She wore headphones. For a moment, while she considered
what next to write, she hugged herself, and this brought out the shape of her breasts, and Romeo felt anxious just looking
at her.
You made
her
a ‘Point of Interest’? Shaw, were you kidding? How am I going to hurt
her
?
At last the mosquitoes and no-see-ums drove him away. He pushed through the jungle again, with the bugs all over him. This
was too much. This heat, this assignment, these no-see-ums flying around his head; and Clio flying around, and that other
girl flying around: Tara. Tara who had stood there in the dark while he’d delivered his threats, saying yes yes yes to him
but not yielding an inch. If she’s not scared of me, then we’re fucked. When he got back to the car the prevailing stink assailed
his nostrils again, and the car was filled with dancing gnats, and every fucking thing was flying around his head.
He got back onto Rt. 17 but didn’t get far before he had to stop. He pulled into the parking lot of the Rent-All store, which
was illumined by one of those old snappish mercury-vapor lamps. He opened his door and leaned out over the pavement. His dinner
came tumbling out, blue as laundry. He stayed doubled up a while, breathing in the reek, thinking he might hurl again, but
he didn’t. After a while he wiped his mouth and drove on. He found a gas station called Happy Times, and in the men’s room
he gargled and brushed his teeth. Then he went back on patrol. No time off. Have to keep working. According to Shaw’s great
plan I have to keep moving at all times.
Shaw awoke from a thousand-eyed nightmare. House full of enemies, enemies everywhere. His heart swinging wildly in its cage.
He groped on the bed beside him till he found his Walther .32 autoloader, and let his fingers close around the handle. He
sat up. Peering into the gloom. Where am I? Somebody’s in here with me. Somebody’s breathing. I see him. A malicious presence,
glowing. Should I shoot? Kill him before he kills me?
Finally it came to him: the kid.
Jase. This was Jase’s room, and Shaw was in Jase’s bed while the kid himself slept on a cot. The Boatwrights, the jackpot:
it all rushed back.
Except for the kid’s breathing, everything was silent.
But he knew they were awake. They were just waiting for their chance.
Ah God.
What was the matter with him? How did he think he could survive this? This lunacy? Now there was no way out. Only way out
was prison or death. No retreat, no running away.
I even gave them our real fucking names
.
He looked at the clock on his phone. Twelve till two. Romeo should make his check-in in twelve minutes. But oh Christ, he
was depending on Romeo? Romeo was his dark servant? If the cops ever touched him, he’d buckle. How had he gotten into this?
Because of that MySpace page, because of Tara. Tara and her whole family coming off so naïve and big-eyed and pliant and spineless:
she had sucked him into this; it was her fault. He had been minding his own business and their ‘innocence’ had roped him into
this. Oh, you fuckers.
The heat built up inside his skull till all his fear was gone and there was nothing but fury.
He drew a deep breath. He reached up and turned the light on, and instantly the room was filled with toy warplanes and a glow-in-the-dark
Iron Man doll, and behind the warplanes, a ceramic statue of Jesus. Shaw sat there gathering himself. Holding the gun. Jase
was in the other bed pretending to sleep. Though he knew the kid was awake; of course he was awake: like everyone in this
house he was scared out of his mind. All of
he favored. And now here she was in the flesh, wearing only a T-shirt and panties, her right leg tucked beneath her. She seemed
to feel safe. The night pressed snugly against her window. She had posters of rock bands on the wall behind her: Arcade Fire,
TV on the Radio, and some band called Drive Fast & Shut Your Eyes. She wore headphones. For a moment, while she considered
what next to write, she hugged herself, and this brought out the shape of her breasts, and Romeo felt anxious just looking
at her.
You made
her
a ‘Point of Interest’? Shaw, were you kidding? How am I going to hurt
her
?
At last the mosquitoes and no-see-ums drove him away. He pushed through the jungle again, with the bugs all over him. This
was too much. This heat, this assignment, these no-see-ums flying around his head; and Clio flying around, and that other
girl flying around: Tara. Tara who had stood there in the dark while he’d delivered his threats, saying yes yes yes to him
but not yielding an inch. If she’s not scared of me, then we’re fucked. When he got back to the car the prevailing stink assailed
his nostrils again, and the car was filled with dancing gnats, and every fucking thing was flying around his head.
He got back onto Rt. 17 but didn’t get far before he had to stop. He pulled into the parking lot of the Rent-All store, which
was illumined by one of those old snappish mercury-vapor lamps. He opened his door and leaned out over the pavement. His dinner
came tumbling out, blue as laundry. He stayed doubled up a while, breathing in the reek, thinking he might hurl again, but
he didn’t. After a while he wiped his mouth and drove on. He found a gas station called Happy Times, and in the men’s room
he gargled and brushed his teeth. Then he went back on patrol. No time off. Have to keep working. According to Shaw’s great
plan I have to keep moving at all times.
Shaw awoke from a thousand-eyed nightmare. House full of enemies, enemies everywhere. His heart swinging wildly in its cage.
He groped on the bed beside him till he found his Walther .32 autoloader, and let his fingers close around the handle. He
sat up. Peering into the gloom. Where am I? Somebody’s in here with me. Somebody’s breathing. I see him. A malicious presence,
glowing. Should I shoot? Kill him before he kills me?
Finally it came to him: the kid.
Jase. This was Jase’s room, and Shaw was in Jase’s bed while the kid himself slept on a cot. The Boatwrights, the jackpot:
it all rushed back.
Except for the kid’s breathing, everything was silent.
But he knew they were awake. They were just waiting for their chance.
Ah God.
What was the matter with him? How did he think he could survive this? This lunacy? Now there was no way out. Only way out
was prison or death. No retreat, no running away.
I even gave them our real fucking names
.
He looked at the clock on his phone. Twelve till two. Romeo should make his check-in in twelve minutes. But oh Christ, he
was depending on Romeo? Romeo was his dark servant? If the cops ever touched him, he’d buckle. How had he gotten into this?
Because of that MySpace page, because of Tara. Tara and her whole family coming off so naïve and big-eyed and pliant and spineless:
she had sucked him into this; it was her fault. He had been minding his own business and their ‘innocence’ had roped him into
this. Oh, you fuckers.
The heat built up inside his skull till all his fear was gone and there was nothing but fury.
He drew a deep breath. He reached up and turned the light on, and instantly the room was filled with toy warplanes and a glow-in-the-dark
Iron Man doll, and behind the warplanes, a ceramic statue of Jesus. Shaw sat there gathering himself. Holding the gun. Jase
was in the other bed pretending to sleep. Though he knew the kid was awake; of course he was awake: like everyone in this
house he was scared out of his mind. All of
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