Empire Of Salt (12 page)

"I might have seen some of those things," Natasha said carefully. She didn't want to be treated as if she were stupid, but she wanted some answers, if there were answers to be had.

Veronica shook her head. "Watch what you're looking at is all I have to say. Sometimes you shouldn't be looking too closely at things, you might see what's really there."

"That doesn't make any sense," Derrick said.

"Sure it does. It means mind your own business. Keep to yourself. You gotta live that way if you're going to survive where I came from. You got to live that way if you're going to survive here too."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and Natasha couldn't tell if the other girl was being serious or not. She had a rough side to her that came out every now and again, as if it were a defense mechanism. Natasha thought about her life in the malls of suburban Philidelphia and realized how different her world was from Veronica's.

Veronica glanced at Derrick who was staring at her. "What are you looking at?"

"Is there really a chance we won't survive?" he asked in a low voice.

Veronica canted her head, then laughed. "Listen. Half the stuff out of my mouth doesn't mean anything. I'm just talking smack. Nothing more than smack. So you ready to go, or what?"

But Derrick persisted. "Which half?"

"Which half what?" Veronica asked.

"Which half is smack?"

"Oh." She grinned evilly. "That you'll have to figure out for yourself." Seeing his doubt, she added, "It's what makes living so much fun." She bounced on her feet. "Anyway, you all want to do something?"

Natasha had wondered the same thing Derrick had. People had a habit in this town of making mysterious remarks, Veronica included. She had to wonder if there was anything to them, but now wasn't the time to press it.

"I don't know," she said. "What do you want to do?"

"There's lots of ways to get into trouble around here." Veronica said.

"Are we going to steal a car? Rob a liquor store?" Derrick turned his cap sideways and made a gun out of his finger as he took aim and shot at the trailer across the street.

Natasha pulled his hat over his eyes and shook her head. "Calm down, Tupac." To Veronica she said, "So what shall we do?"

"Like
anything
... Hey! Let me show you the Mad Scientist at work. Come on."

Veronica took off walking. Both Natasha and Derrick had to hurry to catch up with her. They went down two streets, then began to pick their way through an alley filled with cast-off appliances. The refrigerators had had their doors removed. Natasha had heard how it was to stop children getting locked in them. The stoves seemed older than any of the ones she'd ever seen. Here and there a microwave lay broken and rusty, like a forgotten shrine to bad cooking.

Veronica guided them to a non-descript but well maintained trailer. Behind it was another trailer of the same size, only this was buried in the sand almost all the way to the roofline. Stairs had been excavated down to the front door. At the top of the stairs was a swinging gate with a sign that read "KEEP OUT." Music came from inside - Gilbert and Getz's
The Girl from Ipanema.

"This is it."

"Where are we?" Natasha asked.

"The La-bor-a-tory," Derrick said, in a mock Eastern European accent.

Veronica giggled. "Your brother's funny."

Natasha shook her head. "Please don't encourage him."

"But he's right. The Mad Scientist is down there even as we speak, working on God knows what." She pointed to the door with the small, lit red bulb above it. "See that? It means he's in there working and doesn't want anyone coming in. He says sometimes he's developing pictures and daylight could destroy what he's working on."

"It's so buried you can't even see the windows," Derrick said. "Weird."

"What is he really doing?" Natasha asked.

"Making monsters is my guess." Veronica grinned. "Hell, I don't know. But can you think of anything better to do than find out?"

"How are we gonna see in if there aren't any windows?" Derrick asked.

"Easy. Follow me." Veronica turned and looked at them sharply. "But watch your step. You slip and you might just die." She held their gaze for a moment, then turned and chuckled.

Natasha shook her head. More smack. There were odd moments when Veronica appeared to be some sort of cross between a deadly gangbanger and an insane Pippi Longstocking.

Veronica went to the right of the stairs and walked carefully toward the end of the trailer. She stepped lightly onto the roof and began to take tiny steps along its length.

"What are you doing?" Natasha stage whispered.

Veronica beckoned her to follow. "Trust me," she mouthed. "It's okay."

Derrick moved to go first, but Natasha grabbed him by the back of the collar and hauled him back. Instead she went, creeping across the sand and stepping atop the rusted metal roof of the submerged trailer as if it were made of egg shells. Her brother followed.

They clumped together near the middle of the roof. The black roof tiles were too hot from the sun for them to sit. Even touching it for more than a few seconds became painful. So instead, they squatted. Veronica peeled back a piece of roof tile and rotated it on the nail that held it in place, revealing a hole underneath, the size of a quarter. The music became louder, and might have been loud enough to cover any accidental sound they might make, but Natasha wouldn't put money on it.

Veronica put her eye to the hole and stared into the trailer for a moment. Then she turned to Natasha, "Here, take a look."

Natasha scooted next to Veronica and peered into the hole. At first she thought her vision might be blocked, but then she realized that it was the top of a man's head, bouncing to the beat of the song. Then she began to make out more of the man. His arms were raised as if working on something, but try as she might, she couldn't see what it was. Tools were scattered along the surface of a stainless steel bench.

She felt Derrick tap her shoulder and shrugged him away.

"Come on. It's my turn," he hissed.

She ignored him, instead trying to will the Mad Scientist to move his head so that she could see what he was working on. Here and there she'd get a glimpse of something green, but nothing more. It reminded her of the frogs they'd been forced to dissect in eighth grade science. Most of the girls had cringed and feigned illness when it was their turn, but it hadn't bothered Natasha. She'd always thought frogs were gross and slimy and had no compunctions about cutting them open. As a matter of fact, she'd enjoyed touching their nerves and watching their legs twitch. A part of her worried at how much she'd liked it.

"My turn."

Natasha shushed her brother, then realized too late that the sound had carried into the trailer.

The Mad Scientist's arms stopped working. His head lifted as if he were listening. After a moment, he shook his head and resumed his work, his head bobbing once again to the beat. He reached for what looked like a voltage meter, and when he did so, what he'd been working on was revealed.

She gasped and jerked her head back.

"Finally," Derrick whispered in exasperation.

He knelt and placed both hands on either side of the hole, as he peered inside the trailer.

Natasha stared at roof of the trailer open-mouthed.

"What did you see?" Veronica asked.

Natasha turned to the girl. She couldn't get her mind around the idea, much less her mouth around the words.

Derrick cursed and stood up so quickly he almost lost his balance.

Veronica reached out to help him. "What is it?"

Derrick's eyes were bugged. "He saw me."

Just then they heard the music cut off and the locks rattling inside the door.

Veronica grabbed Natasha's hand. "Come on!"

Derrick hopped off the roof and took off. Veronica pulled Natasha after her. They ran for five minutes until they came to rest within the warm shadows of sump pump #2. All three of them were bent over double, grabbing their knees or waists and gasping.

"What did you see?" Veronica asked.

Natasha thought about the frogs she'd studied at school and how she could make the legs jump and kick. Then she thought about the hand she'd seen on the Mad Scientist's workbench, the drab green fingers jumping and kicking like the legs of the frog. Unless the Mad Scientist had found the dismembered hand of an alien, she had no idea where it'd come from. All she knew was that seeing a body part on that workbench, a
human
body part, sent shivers down her spine.

G
erald Duphrene and George Silva had played cards every night after the sun had gone down. Whether it was Tonk, Cribbage, Nerts, Gin or Stud Poker, they never failed to play some sort of game. Rarely did they ever exchange a word. They didn't have to.

George had left a deck of cards on the kitchen table after he'd gone back to Kentucky with his wife. There wasn't a note, or any direction, but Gerald had known what to do. So every night after dusk he sat at his table and played solitaire. The game kept George close: when Gerald won, he beat George, and when Gerald lost, George beat him.

The day found Gerald once again at George's old yellow and white trailer. It seemed perfectly reasonable that this was the place he'd decided to trap the monster, and deep down he believed that George would have liked it that way. After all, the old card shark was always telling Gerald that he "wasn't too old to still take it to the enemy."

Gerald turned the battery off on the golf cart and set the emergency brake. It was time.

It had been many years since the Korean War. Then, Gerald had been brave out of necessity. Someone else had forced bravery upon him. It was simple: either be brave or be dead. But now it was his choice. He could leave Bombay Beach and never turn back. But this was his home. This was really all he knew, and he wasn't about to be driven out by the monsters. So if he was going to stand and fight, he had to get used to the monsters.

"Enough thinking," Gerald said out loud. "Now get to the doing."

He stepped up the wooden steps and entered the trailer. The living room was open to the sky, the ceiling looking as if it had been ripped open by a giant hand. He stared at it for a long moment to put off doing what he needed to do, but reluctantly turned his attention to the hall. It extended before him, seeming longer than it should have been.

There was a time he would have taken a hill without a thought. He did it for his country. He did it for his friends. He did it for the spirits of his family. Gerald tried to grasp that feeling again as he put one foot in front of the other and began the long trek down the hall.

The sound of his teeth gritting could be heard over the beating of his heart. He began to notice a smell, like bloated fish and pollution. The closer he got to the room, the stronger the smell became, until it was all he could breathe.

The door had been smashed in and hung on its hinges, the upper half sagging and unsupported by the middle hinge. He focused on the cheap brass door knob, and then pushed the door open a few inches.

He didn't look at it, but he saw it in the reflection of the knob as a big black blur. He could make it out in his peripheral vision. Arms, legs, a head. But still all a blur. If only he could keep it blurry he might not be so scared, for as God was his witness, his mind reeled with fear, as if it was his first day in the Land of the Morning Calm and the Chinese were massing beneath his hill.