Borderland (3 page)

"Nolan's
a fireman," Vic said.

"We
know," Christa said in a bored voice. "We heard you talking about how
his hands got burned." She looked at the roof. "Can we take the top
down?"

"Not
on the highway," Vic said. "It'll blow us away."

"I'm
thirsty," Andy said. "And I have to go again."

Nolan
rolled his eyes and started looking for a rest stop.

They stopped
in
Emporia
and once again in
El Dorado
, where Andy lost the contents of her small stomach to the
floorboard of the Buick. Watching Andy throw up made Christa sick, but rather
than use the space in front of her she chose to hang out the window and splatter
the outside of the car. Nolan gritted his teeth and wiped up the mess in the
floorboard while a helpless-looking Vic took care of the outside.

What
should've been at the most a three-hour drive took four and a half hours. They
reached
Wichita
around three-thirty and found themselves in a vacation weekend snarl on highway
54 west. In the tiny town of
Kingman
, Nolan pulled into a gas station and let Vic have the
wheel. His hands and his head were aching. Little girls were more trouble than
he'd ever have believed. They rebounded from nausea with incredible fortitude,
but their bladders were the size of acorns and their tongues worked harder than
the Buick's engine. The unfamiliar exposure exhausted him, and he gained a new
and awe-filled respect for Vic, who had been dealing with them on his own since
his wife's death.

"How
do you do it?" he asked when the tiny she-demons had dozed off again.

Vic knew
what he was talking about. "Believe it or not, it isn't that bad. The
first few months I went crazy because I didn't know how to do anything. But
they helped me. They're both pretty tough, really. Connie taught them to be
independent from early on."

"So
the little one is what, six?"

"Yeah,
she just finished kindergarten. Christa's going into the fourth grade next
year. I guess there's a school around Denke. I didn't ask anyone."

"Denke,"
Nolan repeated. He'd forgotten the name of their destination. "How big is
the town?"

"Not
very. Last I knew the population was about a hundred and fifty. That's probably
counting everyone's dogs and hamsters."

"You
were born there, right?" Nolan said.

"Yeah,
but I don't know much about it. My mom took me and left when I was a baby. She
said she hated it there. But you know how my mom was. She liked cities."

Nolan
remembered. Before his mother's death six years ago Vic had frequently taken
her out to restaurants, shows, and dances. The old lady hated to sit still for
even a minute, sort of like Andy, the miniature bane of Buicks.

"So,"
Nolan said. "What do you know about horses?"

"Not
a goddamned thing," Vic said. "But I imagine I'll learn. You know, I
keep thinking I should've visited him more. He saw the girls one time. Just
once. He didn't know any of us beyond birthday cards and snapshots."

"It's
normal to feel that way," Nolan assured him. "When my dad died I felt
like shit for a year. I could've driven across town to see him any time. I was
just too busy. Or at least I thought I was."

"That
was it," Vic agreed. "I was too busy. Too busy with the job, too busy
with Connie.”

Nolan
heard the break in his voice. He hated that. He didn't know what the hell to
say or do.

"Hey,"
he said alter a moment. "Why don't we stop in
Dodge City
and get a
room? My treat. We've got plenty of time to get to Denke. It's close to the
Colorado
border, right?
We can get up in the morning and make it in four hours from Dodge."

Vic
wiped his eyes and nodded.

"Good,"
said an unidentifiable voice from the back.

The men
traded a glance and fell silent, one of them thinking what perfect undercover
plants the harmless-looking little spies would make.

Finding
a room wasn't as easy as Nolan had assumed it would be.
Dodge City
was something
of a tourist attraction and vacationers were everywhere. They finally had to
settle for a single—the last one available—in a small family-owned
establishment a mile off the highway. Nolan entered the Spartan room, sniffed
the stale air, and looked at the plaid coverlet on the sole bed. Then he looked
at Vic and his daughters. Andy hung limply in her father's arms; Christa was
eyeing Nolan.

"Daddy,
where is he going to sleep?"

"On
the floor," Nolan answered.

"You
paid for the room," Vic said. "You should have the bed."

"I'm
not sleeping with him," Christa said imperiously.

"You
can sleep on the floor," Vic told her.

Christa
opened her mouth and Nolan raised his hands. "Don't wake up the brat. The
floor is okay with me. You guys take the bed."

"Where
are you going?" Christa asked as he turned toward the door.

"To
find my first aid stuff. I need to change my bandages."

"Oh,"
she said. "Can I watch?"

"No,"
her father said. "You go wash up then get into bed."

"But
I don't have my pajamas. They're in my suitcase."

"Sleep
without them tonight. I'm not unpacking anything until we get to Dad's
place."

Nolan
left them and went out to the Buick, where he searched until he came to the
curse-filled realization that his first aid kit was missing. He had a brief
vision of taking it out to fit a sack of toys into the trunk beside his
suitcase…but he couldn't remember putting it back in.

"Well,
Jesus Christ," he said in disgust. The small red and white kit was
probably still sitting in the drive back at Vic's house. He had no ointment, no
gauze, no tape, and nothing for the ache. He went back in the room and told Vic
he was going to look for a store. Vic looked up from tucking Christa in beside
Andy and nodded wordlessly.

Forty-five
minutes later Nolan came back with a sack from a convenience store and found
himself locked out of the room.

He
peered through the drapes and saw the bathroom light on. The room key was on
the table by the television. Vic and his girls were sound asleep on the bed.
After a meaningful mental ass-kicking, Nolan ate three aspirins and climbed
into the Buick to stretch out in the front seat.

He
wasn't going to last a month. He'd known Vic a long time, but there were limits
to any friendship. He'd stay two days or maybe three then clear out. The brats
were just too much to take. If he stayed the entire month his hair might turn
dirty gray. He wasn't equipped to deal with kids, especially little girls. He
liked big girls. Big girls with big…

He
wondered if Carrie would take him back right away. It wasn't likely. She'd dig
deep into her bedside library of self-help books and find the pride to deny him
for at least a week. Not that he would be missing anything. He hated women who
talked cutesy to little dogs and complained about piss on the bathroom floor.
He hated smelling perfume while he brushed his teeth in the morning. He hated
eating wheat germ on everything and drinking tea instead of coffee.

Maybe it
was time to lay off for a while. Just go without. He'd done it before. Before
Carrie he had gone six whole months without sleeping with anyone. Well, Dina
from dispatch didn't count because she was more of a friend than a lover.

Okay.
That was it. When he got back, he'd avoid getting into any relationships right
away. He'd take some time for himself, maybe go to a few ball games, do some
fishing, and get shit-faced with the boys a few times. If he felt like it,
maybe he'd even go see his mother. She might be able to squeeze a few minutes
into her oh-so-busy day for him. Or maybe she'd ask him to make an appointment,
like last time. If she did, she could just—

"Hey.
Are you asleep?"

Nolan
shot up from the seat and banged his shoulder against the steering wheel.
"Ouch. Goddammit."

Christa
backed away from the car. "What are you doing out here?"

Nolan
rubbed his shoulder. "I was locked out, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh.
You're too big to sleep in the car," she observed. "I looked out the
window and saw your feet hanging out."

"I
hope you left the door open," Nolan said as he got out of the car.

"I
had to. It would've locked if I hadn't."

Smarter
than I am, Nolan thought. He walked toward the room and glanced over his
shoulder to see Christa still beside the car. "Come on. Let's go in."

"I'm
not sleepy anymore," she said. She looked longingly toward a small swing
set on a miniscule patch of lawn behind the motel office. "What's it like
where we're going, Uncle Nolan?"

Nolan
lifted his brows. Uncle? Jesus, where did that come from? "I don't know,
Christa. I've never been there. Come on in now. I'm tired."

She
clasped her small arms and looked at him. "Are you going to live there
with us?"

Nolan
sighed and walked back to the car. "No, I'm not. I'm just helping you
move."

"I
almost wish you would," Christa said. She looked at her feet. "Live
with us, I mean. Daddy feels better when you're around. He used to cry a lot,
more than Andy even, but I don't think he likes to cry in front of you."

Nolan
leaned against the Buick and looked down at her. He was better at tatting lace
than he was at talking to kids.

"I
know it's hard to understand, Christa, but your dad just needs time."

"I
know," she said. "He won't always cry. After Mommy died he kept
saying, 'I wish it was a year from now' over and over again. It's almost been a
year, but he still cries. Not as much, though. He probably should have wished
for two years. Don't you think?"

"Yeah,
I guess." Nolan shifted his weight from his right leg to his left and
wondered why he hadn't bought a six-pack of beer at that store.

"Daddy
smiles at you," Christa said. "He must think you're funny. That's why
I wish you could stay, so you could be funny for him until he feels
better."

"I'm
going to stay a little while," Nolan said, deliberately avoiding anything
that would be a lie. "But he'll get better without me. Trust me."

He felt
a sharp twinge of pain as Christa took him by the hand. He didn't jerk away, he
was too surprised.

"We
can go in now," she told him. "It's kinda scary out here in the dark.
But I want to watch while you do your bandages. I've never seen burned skin
before. And I like to look at your eyes. If I had your eyes I'd look like
Mommy, wouldn't I? I wish I had your eyes, Uncle Nolan. They're such a pretty
blue."

Nolan
gave an uncomfortable laugh and briefly realized what Maurice Chevalier had
been singing and dancing about. His eyes weren't really blue but... hell, maybe
little girls weren't so bad after all. Possibly they grew on you or something.
Maybe he'd reconsider his decision and stick around. Just to see how things
worked out.

CHAPTER 2

Myra
Callahan ran a hand through her sweat-dampened blonde hair and glanced worriedly
out her kitchen window. The yard light at the end of the drive had burned out
over a week ago; everything beyond the window was cloaked in darkness. If she
stared hard she could just make out the roof of the farmhouse against the sky.
Her mobile home sat less than a hundred yards from the house, and only fifty
from the barn, but it was as though the darkness impaired her hearing along
with her sight. She turned to her son. "I still don't see or hear
anything,
Cal
.
Are you sure?"

He
nodded then realized she couldn't see him with all the lights out. "I'm
sure. I'm going out there."

"No,"
she said immediately. "You're not going anywhere."

"If
I don't, there won't be anything left by the time Mr. Kimmler gets here."

"He
was supposed to be here today.  I’m sure he’s tried to call, but doesn’t
realize we have no cell phone service out here."

"I
know, Mom. You keep saying that. But he's not here, the landline is dead and
they're out there again. I saw something by the house."

Myra
blinked to moisten her staring eyes. "We can't risk
it,
Cal
. It's
too dangerous."

Cal
touched her arm. "Today I went in the house and got
Darwin
's shotgun and a
pistol. I know you can handle the pistol, I watched him teach you how to shoot
it. It's the nine millimeter."

"I
told you not to go in the house,"
Myra
said. "It's not like we have free run of the place
anymore."