watching what people think as they drive on and off the island. Got translators and psychiatrists and charts and espresso machines, but it’s still too much. The burnout alone…they can’t keep up. Every day they fall further behind.”
“Paul,” Remy said.
“Aw, I’m just fuggin’ with the senators,” Guterak said. “They know I’m screwin’ around, right, fellas? Right?” He smiled at them in the rearview mirror so long that Remy had to fight the urge to grab the wheel. Finally, Paul looked back at the road. “Just fuggin’ with ’em.”
They dropped the senators off at their hotel in midtown. But Paul didn’t drive right away. He turned in the driver’s seat to face Remy. “Listen,” he said. “This meeting with The Boss tomorrow. Be careful. Think of it like a session with IA, or with Psych on a shooting review. You with me? And Jesus, Bri, don’t say anything about me. For God’s sake. If he doesn’t ask about me, don’t volunteer a fuggin’word about it. And if he asks how I’m doin’, you just say fine. Nothin’ else. I don’t want no problems. Tell ’em you haven’t seen any weird behavior, no mention of nightmares, nothing like that.” Paul took a moment to reconsider this, like chewing the last bite of sandwich. He raised a finger. “Unless…you know…they think it’s weird that I’m not having nightmares. Then tell ’em I’m totally fugged up…can’t sleep…cryin’ all the time. And Jesus, that shit I was sayin’ the other day?”
“About the Nextels?” Remy asked.
“The Nextels? No. Fugg the phones, Brian. I mean that shit about bein’ happy. About this bein’ a good time? The funerals and all that? You gotta forget that shit, okay?”
“Okay,” Remy said.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“I mean…I was just talkin’ out my asshole there. I just wanted a be funny. Don’t mean shit, what I said. I don’t even know what I was talkin’ about.” He squinted like he’d eaten something sour and waved his hand at the world.
“It’s okay,” Remy said. “I’ve already forgotten it.”
“But it’s not that I’m un happy. If they want to know that.”
“Sure.”
“I’m just fine. Fine. But not happy. At least not unreasonably.” Paul chewed his thumbnail and looked over his shoulder, then started driving.
Traffic lurched and halted, the cabs pulsing like blood cells. Guterak was too distracted to blow the siren. A white passenger van pulled up beside them and the passengers pressed their faces against the windows, waving and giving them the thumbs-up, but Paul had lost his feel for even this and he drove in silence, without acknowledging the waves from the vehicle next door.
Remy closed his eyes and watched the wallpaper peeling down hislids, strips of fiber drifting down in the jelly. Soup ofhis own …Sometimes it was calming. He opened his eyes and saw Guterak chewing his thumbnail as he pushed the Excursion through muddy traffic.
“Relax,” Remy said. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, Paul. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah.” Guterak nodded uneasily and glanced out the window, at the people lining the street, desperately cheering the cars going into The Zero. He pulled the E-Z Pass clip off his visor and tossed it in back. “Still.”
They pulled up to the entry point on the West and the same cop stepped forward.
“Hey, boss. How’s it goin’?”
“Goddamn tough duty, you know?”
“Fuckin’ raghead motherfuckers.”
“Yeah. That’s right. That’s right.”
Remy fell back in his seat and smelled—
SMOKE WAFTED across forests of dusted steel. “Hey. You okay?” The guy in front of Remy lowered his ventilator. His cheeks were pink beneath the mask; above it, his eyes were banded with soot. He was wearing heavy coveralls and thick gloves, the kind a welder might wear, and holding out a yellow five-gallon bucket for Brian to take.
“Oh. Sorry.” Remy looked away from the cloud and took
“Paul,” Remy said.
“Aw, I’m just fuggin’ with the senators,” Guterak said. “They know I’m screwin’ around, right, fellas? Right?” He smiled at them in the rearview mirror so long that Remy had to fight the urge to grab the wheel. Finally, Paul looked back at the road. “Just fuggin’ with ’em.”
They dropped the senators off at their hotel in midtown. But Paul didn’t drive right away. He turned in the driver’s seat to face Remy. “Listen,” he said. “This meeting with The Boss tomorrow. Be careful. Think of it like a session with IA, or with Psych on a shooting review. You with me? And Jesus, Bri, don’t say anything about me. For God’s sake. If he doesn’t ask about me, don’t volunteer a fuggin’word about it. And if he asks how I’m doin’, you just say fine. Nothin’ else. I don’t want no problems. Tell ’em you haven’t seen any weird behavior, no mention of nightmares, nothing like that.” Paul took a moment to reconsider this, like chewing the last bite of sandwich. He raised a finger. “Unless…you know…they think it’s weird that I’m not having nightmares. Then tell ’em I’m totally fugged up…can’t sleep…cryin’ all the time. And Jesus, that shit I was sayin’ the other day?”
“About the Nextels?” Remy asked.
“The Nextels? No. Fugg the phones, Brian. I mean that shit about bein’ happy. About this bein’ a good time? The funerals and all that? You gotta forget that shit, okay?”
“Okay,” Remy said.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“I mean…I was just talkin’ out my asshole there. I just wanted a be funny. Don’t mean shit, what I said. I don’t even know what I was talkin’ about.” He squinted like he’d eaten something sour and waved his hand at the world.
“It’s okay,” Remy said. “I’ve already forgotten it.”
“But it’s not that I’m un happy. If they want to know that.”
“Sure.”
“I’m just fine. Fine. But not happy. At least not unreasonably.” Paul chewed his thumbnail and looked over his shoulder, then started driving.
Traffic lurched and halted, the cabs pulsing like blood cells. Guterak was too distracted to blow the siren. A white passenger van pulled up beside them and the passengers pressed their faces against the windows, waving and giving them the thumbs-up, but Paul had lost his feel for even this and he drove in silence, without acknowledging the waves from the vehicle next door.
Remy closed his eyes and watched the wallpaper peeling down hislids, strips of fiber drifting down in the jelly. Soup ofhis own …Sometimes it was calming. He opened his eyes and saw Guterak chewing his thumbnail as he pushed the Excursion through muddy traffic.
“Relax,” Remy said. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, Paul. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah.” Guterak nodded uneasily and glanced out the window, at the people lining the street, desperately cheering the cars going into The Zero. He pulled the E-Z Pass clip off his visor and tossed it in back. “Still.”
They pulled up to the entry point on the West and the same cop stepped forward.
“Hey, boss. How’s it goin’?”
“Goddamn tough duty, you know?”
“Fuckin’ raghead motherfuckers.”
“Yeah. That’s right. That’s right.”
Remy fell back in his seat and smelled—
SMOKE WAFTED across forests of dusted steel. “Hey. You okay?” The guy in front of Remy lowered his ventilator. His cheeks were pink beneath the mask; above it, his eyes were banded with soot. He was wearing heavy coveralls and thick gloves, the kind a welder might wear, and holding out a yellow five-gallon bucket for Brian to take.
“Oh. Sorry.” Remy looked away from the cloud and took
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