In the Path of Falling Objects (28 page)

Jones
,

Scotty got killed. It was the craziest and worst thing ever. I can’t stand it. I’m sick.

A rat crawled inside his mosquito net, crawled up to the top, and then it fell on him. I told you how he was about those things. He started flipping out, and the rat got scared and it actually got inside Scotty’s pants. He tore off all his clothes and grabbed his M-16 and started shooting at everything in sight and screaming like I’ve never heard anyone scream before. I guess he thought it was another prank, but it wasn’t, and he even started shooting at the guys who came around to his hooch to see what was happening. I tried to get him to calm down and he took a shot at me. Then he shot a guy from our crew and almost took his arm off.

Then a sergeant and another guy from another Duster crew opened up on him. I think they shot him about 50 times. It was sickening what they did. There was blood and brains and stuff all over inside there, and Scotty just laying there naked and blown to bits. Everyone was mad about him snapping like that, and then I was the only one who would go in there and clean it up. Because I loved him. I’m still crying about it, even now when I write this. What a waste this whole
thing is. Stupid. I just can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand anything, and I’m not listening to anyone or talking anymore. The guys here think I’m crazy and I am. Now I know I’m walking. I don’t care what they do about it. I made my plans. What a stupid waste.

When you get this I could be dead. I’m sorry. We will always be brothers. I love you and Simon more than anything, just know that. You’re my brothers. There was a time when I thought I was doing this for you guys, like I was saving the world or something, but that was stupid, too. I can’t even tell you what I did this for because I don’t even know. I don’t think I ever will even if I make it out.

I won’t ask you to pray for me. I know how you feel about that anyway, but if there’s anything you can do that I might feel, then try your hardest, and I know you will always be strong and do what’s right, and I will feel that, and I will hear your voice when I go to sleep.

This place is a slaughterhouse.

I know they won’t tell the truth about it. I mean what happened to Scotty, and what happened to all of us too. I will see you in Arizona, Jones.

Promise me you will take care of Simon. He really looks up to you. You might not know that, but it’s the truth.

Bye.

Love
,

Matthew

Walker stood in the dark, hidden just inside the doorway.

“He’s out there,” Simon said.

“I guess so,” the man answered.

I held Lilly’s hand, but she didn’t move.

“There’s something really wrong with her,” I said.

Walker said, “I think he shot my dog.”

The man limped to the edge of the opening and tried to edge his way past Simon, but my brother held him back.

“Don’t go out there, Walker.”

“Okay. This is really crazy,” Dalton said. “I never thought it was going to be like this.”

Walker stood back from the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Dalton,” I said. “I should have known it would end up like this when we got in that car.”

Dalton paced toward the doorway, looked outside quickly, and moved back into the dark.

“We need to get her out of here,” I said, standing.

“I don’t have no bullets for my gun,” Walker apologized.

I felt sick.

“I left our gun in the truck,” I said. “I’m an idiot.”

“Shut up, Jonah,” Simon said, whispering. “We’re in a mess and you saying that it’s your fault or something isn’t going to help us at all. So stop trying to take the blame for every little thing that happens to us all the time. That’s what pisses me off most of all about you. You don’t want to admit that it might be something else and not you who’s always in control of things. It’s not your fault, so shut up.”

Simon looked away from me after he said it. I tried to swallow.

I turned away from the door.

“I’ll go out there,” Walker said.

“No,” Simon said. “He was going to kill you last night. I had to beg him not to. You can’t go. Maybe we should wait till it gets dark.”

“I don’t think we can wait that long. I don’t think Lilly can,” I said, glancing back at her on the bed.

“We should get the hell out of here,” Dalton said.

Walker hobbled past the three of us toward his kitchen.

“Here,” he said, “let’s see if we can take a look at him.”

Walker pulled back the corner of a red-and-black Seventh Infantry
flag that draped down over the slat-paned crank window beside his shelves of food, and looked outside.

Simon and I stood close behind him.

“Can you see him?” Simon asked.

Walker shook his head. “No. And I can’t see Lady, either.”

The hammer pop of a gunshot cracked in the dry air and a hole tore through the thin wall of Walker’s trailer, just inches from his head. The bullet knocked down a can of cling peaches, splashing sticky clear fluid across the floor.

“Damn!” Walker said. He immediately collapsed below the window’s sill, panting, “Is everyone okay?”

As soon as Walker dropped, the rest of us threw ourselves flat onto the floor. And I looked around quickly, because I couldn’t tell if Dalton and Simon were just ducking, or if one of them had been shot.

“We’re okay,” Simon said.

Walker stared up at the wall, at the small black hole that looked like a bug speck.

“I guess we don’t need to see him to know it’s him,” he said, but it sounded to me like there was an edge of irritation in his voice. “What exactly did you two do to him that makes him like this?”

“He’s insane,” I said. “There is no reason.”

“The hell,” Walker said, obviously not buying my explanation.

“We took something away that he thinks belongs to him,” Simon answered. “The girl.”

“Hell,” Walker said, and he swept his eyes across the floor and looked at each one of our faces. “This is all about a girl? You two fighting each other, and him out there trying to kill people, all over a girl?”

“I’m sorry,” Simon told him. “I didn’t mean to bring this on you.”

“You either, Dalton,” I said.

Walker took a breath, and said, “I know that. I got to think about this.”

Then he belly-crawled back to the center of the trailer and slammed shut the open door.

“It wasn’t Simon.” I scooted myself back along the floor, following the Indian man, and stopped beside Dalton. “It was me.”

“Shut up,” Simon snapped.

And Walker said, “You boys will probably still be fighting after that guy out there puts a bullet in both of your heads, I guess.”

“It’s okay, Jonah,” Dalton said. “Like you said, it was all written down there. I knew what I was getting into when I read your book. I guess part of me wanted to think you were making stuff up, so it would be exciting. But made up.”

Laughing, he tucks the gun barrel down inside his back pocket. Laughing, he watches the trailer door swing shut, hears it slam. It is the sound of someone being afraid. It is the sound of Simon going out to take a piss at Chief’s when Mitch put a hole in his head and smoked a cigarette.

“I bet we got one,” Mitch says, and covers his mouth with a blood-grimed palm. “I bet we did. I hope it hurts. I hope they’re real scared.”

He watches the window for three breaths, that’s all, to make certain there is no more movement on the other side of that curtain. His eyes scan the massive wall of rock butted up against the back of the trailer. Mitch hums the opening riff of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” over and over; his voice becomes a growl as he studies a path up the side of the mesa.

“We get up there and we can wait for Piss-kid and the other piggies to come out. They’ll come out. They have to.”

He hums, hunches over, low, begins moving in a wide circle around the trailer’s scattered yard. The cap of the Zippo lighter clicks open and shut, absently flicking a metallic clink to match the cadence of his steps.

Flick.

Walker sat on the rug in the middle of the floor, looking at us. “We know what direction he’s coming from,” he said. “But we’re going to need to get that gun of yours. I can pop out the window in the back and one of you will have to squeeze your way between the trailer and the rocks and try to make a break for that truck. There’s no way I can do it fast enough.”

“I’ll do it,” Simon said.

“No you won’t,” I said.

“Are you two going to fight about that, too?” Dalton asked.

“We’ll do it together, then,” Simon said.

I could tell the Indian was thinking things over, and I sensed he didn’t have a good reason to trust us, either. Maybe it was our age, or the fact that he knew I’d beaten Simon up, or maybe it was Simon’s long hair, but I couldn’t see why Walker would even
want
to trust us.

“We’re not going to take off, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said. “I wouldn’t leave her.”

“It’s my truck,” Dalton said.

“You don’t think we’d split, do you?” Simon asked.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t do that,” Walker said. “Come on. We better hurry before he changes positions.”

Walker moved to the end of the trailer and pulled down the American flag hanging on the rear wall, wadding it up and placing it on top of the glossy chrome-rimmed table attached to the inside wall. At the bottom of the window’s edge he swung open two hinged handles and pulled the glass pane inward and free of its frame.

“Keep an eye out and yell if you see anything,” I said to Dalton.

He nodded, and looked right at my eyes without blinking. Then I saw him bite his lip and look down.

I put my hands on the frame of the window and poked my head out. There was only about a foot of uneven open space between the trailer and the huge red rocks butting up against it; we would have to be careful to avoid being trapped in the crevice. I scanned the width of the trailer as far as I could, in both directions, looking for snakes, looking everywhere for Mitch, and when I was certain our path was clear, I turned back to Simon and gave a nod.

“Have that side door open in case we need to come back in that way,” I said to Walker.

“Both ways will be open,” the man said.

“Okay.”

I lifted myself up to the sill, swung my legs out into the gap behind the trailer, and dropped down to the ground. Even standing up straight, the top of my head did not reach the window’s opening. I grabbed the edge with both hands and looked in at my brother.

“You don’t have to come. I can do it.”

Simon looked me in the eyes and said, “Shut up. I’m coming.”

He glanced back once at Walker and then slid over the sill and dropped down beside me. And then Dalton stuck his head out and said, “Move over. I’m coming, too.”

Simon and I caught his legs and lowered him from the window.

I inched my feet forward along the ground, bracing my hands
against the cool metal skin of the trailer. I paused just at the corner, where the sunlight cut the shadow’s edge.

Dalton put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Calm down.”

I realized I was breathing heavily. Dalton tried to squeeze past me.

“Let me go first.”

I blocked his way with my shoulder.

“No.”

I bit my lower lip and peered out around the side of the trailer. My heart drummed and boomed in my chest, I could feel the thick swells of blood pumping through my neck.

I kept my eyes pinned on the truck.

“Neither of you guys has to go for the truck with me. I don’t even know why you came out here in the first place,” I whispered.

Simon reached his hand past Dalton and shoved my shoulder, like he was telling me to run.

“Wait here and see if I make it.”

I wondered what it would be like if I didn’t make it.

“Okay,” Simon said.

“I’m going now.”

“Go!” Dalton answered.

I took off, sprinting, bent forward, aiming myself toward the front grille of the truck. And neither of them waited behind to see if I’d make it; they both came running right alongside me, matching the cadence and stride of each step I took like we were in some kind of playground challenge to see who was best.

And as we ran, the distance from the trailer to the truck seemed to stretch into an endless marathon. Each of us kept our eyes on the span of the desert, watching for the man we knew was out there, somewhere.

We made it. The three of us collapsed to our knees, hiding low at the front of the truck, panting and still trying to control our breathing
so we could listen for anything that might tell us Mitch had seen us making that run.

“You guys were supposed to wait,” I whispered.

“I wasn’t going to argue about it with you,” Simon answered.

“And I wasn’t going to just stay there by myself,” Dalton said, squinting into the distance. “He’s probably moving.”

I flattened out onto my belly and looked every way I could see across the land from beneath the rusted chassis of the truck. I pressed myself back up to my knees, dirt sticking to the front of the clothes Dalton had given me.

I looked at Simon.

“After I get the pack out, I want you guys to take the truck and go. As fast as you can.”

And Simon just stared at me, a look of disbelief on his face.

“I don’t care what you want me to do, Jonah, I’m not leaving.”

“You want to argue now? You could go get some help.”

“Who?” Simon whispered, leaning in toward me, angry. “Who would I get? The police? So I could go to jail? So they could split us up?”

I didn’t have an answer. I looked at Dalton.

He said, “I’m not leaving, either. I’ve come this far. Let’s get the girl and get out of here.”

Simon inched past me and poked his head around the corner of the bumper, looking down the driver’s side of the truck.

“We’re wasting time,” he said, and crawled out on his knees, arm raised, sliding his palm along the dull body of the truck, feeling blindly for the handle on the door as his eyes kept focused forward, scanning for movement across the expanse of open desert.