Picture Perfect (18 page)

Davey thought a minute. “I'm almost sick. I didn't get my shot today.”

“What shot?” Elva asked fearfully.

“I'm a hemophiliac.”

“You mean you bleed?” Elva asked in horror.

“I used to, but now I get shots. Please, can't you let me out before
he
comes back?”

“You have to trust me, little boy. I'm gonna help you.” If the kid didn't get his shots, he might die. She would be just as guilty as Cudge this time around. He was just a kid, a little boy like BJ. She had to do something. The hell with what Cudge said. What did she care if the cranks fell apart? Her hand was on the crank ready to turn when Cudge walked through the doorway. Behind him were the two troopers. Elva froze. “Little boy, something's wrong. Be real quiet.”

“Here we go, honey. Food at last,” Cudge shouted with false gaiety. Elva stared at him. Didn't he see the troopers behind him?

Suddenly a voice shouted. “Sir, sir, the cashier wants to see you.” Cudge ignored the voice. Elva gagged and her face drained of all color. As if in slow motion, she watched one of the troopers put a hand on Cudge's shoulder. “Hey, mister, you deaf or somethin'? The cashier wants you back inside.”

Cudge turned slowly and stared at the two troopers. His brain was swelling, every instinct prepared him to fight, to defend himself. The very sight of a uniform could do this to him, but to have the trooper speak to him—
touch
him! A hoof cut into the soft tissue of his brain. A hulking, dark shape shouldered the restraining gate. Only a superhuman effort quelled the restlessness of the beast and held him behind the gate. “Me?” he asked stupidly.

“Yes, you. The cashier wants you back inside.”

The trooper's partner smirked as Cudge turned and walked back into the restaurant. “They're all alike, those campers. A couple of days on the road and they're in another world. Kind of airless around here, isn't it?” His fingers worked at his collar.

“I thought it was me,” the first trooper said quietly. “You ever hear about the Santa Ana winds? They say they make people do crazy things, kinda like a full moon.” He laughed sheepishly. “Come on, let's get it in gear and hit the road. I got a date tonight that would set your hair on end. She's got the biggest knockers on the East Coast.”

“Seeing is believing,” the second trooper grinned. “I don't take a cop's word for anything. Everyone knows you can't trust a cop.”

“Yeah, right,” the first trooper said with a grin as he climbed behind the wheel. The car came to life just as Cudge hit the parking lot. “Would you believe they shortchanged me?” he said, holding out his palm with thirty-seven cents in it for proof.

The trooper stared at the change for a full second. His eyes behind the polished glasses were cold. He nodded curtly and switched from park to reverse. Cudge stood back respectfully and watched till the yellow Plymouth left the parking lot.

“Close your mouth, Elva, and get in the truck.”

“What about the water bottles? We ain't even got a drop. We need the water. You crank open the top and I'll get the bottles. You'll have to fill them though.”

“Christ, you're stupid. Two cops just left here. We were eyeball to eyeball, and you want to hang around here to get water? We ain't opening that pop-up till we make camp. When the shit hits the fan, those guys are gonna remember me. Now, get your ass in that truck and let's move!”

As Elva started to hobble back to the truck, a noisy family got out of a maroon station wagon close by. Seven children squealed and shouted as they romped about the parking lot, trying to catch a frisky, fuzzy-looking dog. Cudge and Elva were suddenly surrounded by yelling kids and a barking dog. “C'mere, Bizzy. Good girl. C'mon, we got some popcorn for you.”

“Jesus Christ!” Cudge shouted to be heard above the noise. “Get that damn dog out of here and get him out now! All of you get out of here. I want to start this rig up and I'm running late.”

“Bizzy is just sniffing your pop-up, mister. You got something in there she likes. She's not hurting anything. See, she's just trying to get in to see what you got,” a boy in tattered overalls grinned.

“Well, I ain't got nothin' in here for your dog, so get her out of here.”

“We can't catch her,” a little girl with pigtails complained. “She's fast, mister. Her mother's name was Flash; that's why we picked her from the litter.”

“I don't give a damn what her mother's name was. Get her out of here!”

“Kids, kids, what's going on here? Where's the dog?” The kids' mother approached, gathering her children into a close group like baby chicks. Her eyes flicked over them as if taking a habitual head count. Her work-worn hands pushed back frizzy hair from her forehead. “Hey, Max, you better get your butt out here and settle this. These people want to get on their way and your kids are holding up the works. Max, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I been listening to you all the way from Milwaukee. What's wrong this time?” a bear of a man demanded as he climbed from the dust-streaked station wagon.

“There isn't any problem,” Cudge said patiently. “We just want you to get your dog, Flash, out of here so we can be on our way.”

“Name's Bizzy. Flash was her mother,” the girl with the pigtails chirped.

“What you carrying in that pop-up, mister, that attracts our dog? She usually ain't interested in other people and their belongings. Kind of a mind-your-own-business mutt, if you know what I mean,” the man said.

“Just get that dog out of here. We're running behind schedule now.”

Max LeRoy stared at Cudge in a way that said he didn't like what he saw. “Bizzy, up,” he commanded in a sharp, clear voice. The little dog leaped in midair to land in his arms. He nodded curtly to Cudge and, without so much as a word, the kids backed off, allowing Cudge and Elva to enter the pickup. It was Mrs. LeRoy who memorized the license plate, without realizing what she was doing.

Elva sighed heavily. She felt like an old newspaper that had been cut up to paper-train a new pup. How much more could she take? And the kid—how much more could he take? What if he started to bleed back there, all alone, and then died on her?
Please, God, don't let anything happen to the little boy. I don't care about me, just don't let anything happen to him. I know that I was thinking before that there wasn't a God, but you must be real or Cudge would have found him by now. I don't need a miracle, just a diversion of some kind. You can't let him die, he's just a little boy, hardly more than a baby?
Elva choked back a tear. She knew God did let little boys die; he'd let BJ die.

“What are you doing, Elva? Tell me you ain't talking to yourself. Please tell me you ain't.”

“Okay, I ain't talking to myself. I was praying.”

Cudge's eyes widened. His head bobbed up and down. “It figures,” was all he said.

“Where we going and how much longer are we going to stay on the road?” Elva demanded.

“Soon as I see a spot that looks like it's off the beaten track, I'll stop. You feeling frisky, Elva?” he baited her. “That why you wanna stop so quick?”

She ignored him, her mind racing ahead. The kid had said he could run, so he must be all right. Little kids were always hungry. Whatever it was Cudge had bought, she would save her portion for the little boy to take with him.

Cudge was so full of it. First he tried to kill her, then he thought he could make it all better by calling her honey and telling her he'd take her to a lodge in the Poconos with a heart-shaped bathtub. As if that would make everything all right. The thought was too ludicrous even to warrant a smile. She was just beginning to realize how stupid Cudge really was. Now, when it was too late.

“Elva, get that map out and take a look-see. I just seen something that makes me nervous. Take a look over there and tell me what you see. Ain't that the same diner and ain't that the same gas station we seen when we started out? It is!” he bellowed. “There's that mom-and-pop camp store. Of all the friggin' luck!” For the first time in his life Cudge felt raw gut fear. They were right back at the scene of the burial. The kid would have told his folks. There'd be cops everywhere. Fear swooped up into his throat and he gagged. What should he do? Head back to Newark? Turn around and drive all night? Camp? Where?

Elva felt herself go limp. This was her miracle. Think, she had to think. “That's good, ain't it, Cudge? Who would ever think we'd come back here? We can even stop at the store and get the water and stuff.” She hardly dared breathe. “We don't have to camp in the Wild Adventure campground. We don't need no hookups. You could pull deep into the woods. A flashlight is all we need. What do you think, Cudge?” she asked anxiously. “But we better get off the road now, before it gets dark.” The little boy will be able to find his way to the highway before the black night descends, she thought. “Take a look at the sky, looks like rain to me. If we're going to stop, we better do it now.” Childishly she crossed her fingers, waiting for his answer. Make it the right answer, she pleaded silently. You're almost free, little boy, she said over and over in her mind.

Cudge risked a glance at Elva, then made up his mind. She was probably right, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of telling her so. Without thinking, he signaled a right turn and was off the road.

He had done what she wanted; now she would let the little boy out. Elva's teeth clamped together in relief.

“You're right, it's gonna rain pretty soon.” Cudge frowned. “Elva, you notice anything, feel anything?”

Now what? “What's wrong?”

“Feels like we're limping, like maybe we're getting a flat. I'll have to check it out when we stop.”

This couldn't be happening. All the tools were in the pop-up in a tool kit under the bunk. Cudge would crank it open and then it would be all over for her and the little boy. She tried for a light tone. “You're just uptight, Cudge. I don't think there's anything wrong.”

“We'll know soon enough.” He drove a little way beyond the campground to a general store. “I'll pull up around the back and take a look. Here's some money—you hobble in and get a few things. No gabbin', Elva.”

The moment Cudge braked the pickup, Elva had the door open and was outside in the damp air, pretending to check the tires on her side. She moved toward the pop-up. “Little boy,” she whispered, “whatever you do, don't make a sound.”

Cudge bent down to inspect the tires on his side. “The rear tire's really low. Must have a slow leak. I'm gonna have to change it, but I think we can hold out till we make camp. Go get our stuff and make it snappy.”

“Cudge, I gotta go to the bathroom real bad. You go in and get the stuff,” she said, holding out the money.

“All right, but I ain't buying no Kool-Aid; goes against my grain to buy that crap.” He watched her limp to the restroom.

When Elva was done, she opened the door and looked around the tiny parking area. Thank God he hadn't cranked open the camper. “Little boy, can you hear me? Say something. Are you all right? You ain't bleeding, are you? I been real worried.”

“I'm okay. Let me out. When are you going to let me out?” Davey pleaded.

“I was going to do it now, but Cudge is watching me. We're going to stop real soon because it looks like it might rain. You gotta be ready to run real fast. I'm sorry I couldn't let you out before, but he was watching all the time. I couldn't take the chance. You just have to hang tight for a little longer. I'll get you out, I promise.”

A promise. That was real, Davey thought. Something true that happened even when you thought it wouldn't. Like when Aunt Lorrie made a promise. “Okay, I can wait.”

“I ain't gonna be able to run with you, but you'll be able to make it by yourself. I got a flashlight you can use. It's the best I can do. Shhh, he's coming now.”

“Who the hell you talking to, Elva? I seen your mouth going a mile a minute from inside.”

If it had worked once, it would work again. “I was singing to myself, like this,” she said miming the words to an Elvis favorite. “I miss not hearing my music.”

“Get in. I got eggs, bacon, instant coffee, bottled water, beer and some cupcakes. They had a special on Coke so I got two six-packs. Here's a can for you,” he said generously. “I got us a little information. A quarter of a mile down the road there's a deserted quarry. What do you think?”

Deserted. Would the kid get lost, or hurt, trying to get away with only a flashlight to guide him? “Yeah, sounds good to me,” she said. She hoped it wasn't too far off the road or the kid wouldn't be able to make it to the campground. “You don't want to be driving on dirt roads with that tire like that,” she cautioned.

“I won't. Just till we're out of sight. Beats the shit out of me how we ended up back where we started. See those trees over there? That's the back of the Wild Adventure Park, and to the right of that is where old Lenny's planted. It's your fault, Elva. Somehow you screwed this all up. Everybody said that 1998 was a big year for assholes, but you carried over to '99.”

There was no point in arguing with Cudge. The more he talked, the less time he had to think. She could listen to his harangue with one ear and still use her brain to figure something out for the little boy. God, where was it all going to end? Imagine returning to the same place they'd started out from. She knew in her gut that God was punishing her and Cudge. But the little boy shouldn't be punished. He hadn't done anything. Cudge wasn't going to hurt him, except over her dead body.

“Here we go—hold on now.” Deftly, Cudge maneuvered the truck around potholes as big as craters. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he exploded as he swerved to avoid one yawning hole only to hit another. His head hit the roof of the truck and Elva bounced almost as high. “Goddammit! I think the tire blew.” He shifted into neutral, opened the door and banged it shut. “Shit!”