about him?” Blondie said, gesturing with his weapon at the body on the road. His face was sulky, like a child denied a favorite toy.
The man with the pistol didn’t look down. “Leave him for the vultures,” he snapped. He walked off.
“All right, you people,” the tattooed man said. “Get that other bucket out.”
This time there was no hesitation. The people moved slowly, as if they were in shock, but they moved. In a few moments, the other toilet bucket had been handed out to a young, bearded man who had been summoned from the inside of the truck to the road. His name, Ruben remembered, was Diego; he had been one of the few who had bothered to introduce themselves to Edgar and Ruben at the beginning of the trip. Diego took the bucket silently and stood by them, staring sullenly at the road.
“Good,” the blond said. “You’re already learning not to eyeball your betters.” He gestured at the buckets, miming pouring something out of them. Diego picked up one bucket. Blondie pointed at the old man’s body. “Empty it there.”
Diego’s back stiffened. Blondie pushed the shotgun up under his ear. “Do it,” he said silkily, “or I’ll fucking stick your head in it and drown you while Benny over there fucks you up the ass.”
“Awww,” the tattooed man said in a mock-whiny voice. “An’ I was saving myself.” He cut his eyes toward the girl he’d been ogling earlier. The girl started to cry.
Diego picked up first one bucket, then the other, and emptied them over the old man’s body. He walked back to the truck, his head down, and climbed in. Benny threw the still-stinking buckets back into the truck. Blondie shoved a pallet of bottled water in and pulled the door down. It clanged shut like the gates of hell. They heard the truck start up again. Another woman began weeping. Ruben glanced over at Diego. He was sitting with his head down, looking at the floor between his knees. Then the battery gave out on the light and they were in total darkness.
Ruben felt Edgar trembling beside him, then he began to shake with sobs. Ruben put his arm around his brother. He didn’t know what to say or do. He knew that, at seventeen, it was his responsibility to look out for his fourteen-year-old brother. Still, he wished Papa were there to tell him how.
“SO,” ANGELA said, “Is he…”
“Well, he’s not rolling on the ground, tearing his clothes off, and howling like a dog,” Lucas said. “That’s something.”
“You know what I mean,” Angela snapped. She walked over and stood at the open window, looking out at the highway.
“And I know,” Lucas said, his voice even, “that it doesn’t make any difference if he’s ready or not. He’s coming with us. You know he is. You knew the moment you asked, Jack Keller would do anything at all to help Oscar. And to help you. Because you know that’s the kind of man he is. He’ll pick up the gun again. He’ll go on the hunt again to save his friend. Even if it costs him his sanity.”
She whirled to face him. “You think I don’t care about that? About him?”
He didn’t change expression. “On the contrary. I think you’re still in love with him.”
She laughed bitterly and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Right. That’s why I’m asking him to help me find my husband.”
“Are you searching for Oscar out of love or out of duty?”
She didn’t answer.
“Understand,” he went on, “I’m not knocking duty. I spent twenty years in the Army. Despite all the bullshit, that word still makes me stand up a little straighter when I hear it. But you need to know why you’re doing what you’re doing.”
She leaned her head on the glass. “Does it really matter that much?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Lucas said. “It does.” After a moment, he asked, “Do you love Oscar?”
She closed her eyes. “He’s a good man. He’s gentle and kind and he made me feel alive again.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Lucas.” She sounded weary enough to sleep a thousand years. “I don’t know, okay? Can I just be alone for a little bit?”
He stood up. “Sure.” He walked to the door. “I’ll see you later.” She didn’t answer.
He stepped out into the light and the heat. He didn’t feel like going back to his room. He saw a couple of cars had pulled up to the bar across the street. He decided to check it out.
The air-conditioning inside was cranked to nearly frigid. A couple of men in jeans and T-shirts were seated at the bar. Another pair was shooting pool at a table set in a tiny room off the bar. They stopped talking and looked at him as he walked in. Lucas took a seat at an empty stool. “Corona,” he told the pretty, dark-haired girl behind the bar. There was a blank expression on her face as she put the beer in front of him, a wedge of lime stuck in the bottle’s neck.
“Thanks,” he said. He handed over the money and a dollar tip. He pushed the lime wedge down into the bottle, then extended a hand. “Lucas Berry.”
“I know who you are,” the girl said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
She nodded and really looked at him for the first time. “Jack said you’d probably be stopping by.”
Lucas looked around. “Where is Jack, anyway?”
“I fired him,” she said.
“Ah,” Lucas replied. He took a sip of his beer.
“What does that mean? ‘Ah’?” she demanded.
He smiled. “Sorry. I’m a psychiatrist. It’s a habit.” He scanned the bar. “Is there somewhere we can talk for a few minutes?”
“About Jack?” she said.
“Yeah.” I want to see what’s got you so riled. He thought he knew the answer.
She jerked her chin at the men at the bar. “I got customers. And now I’m shorthanded.”
He took out his wallet. “Set ‘em up a round,” he said. “On me. That’ll give you a few minutes.”
She hesitated, then jerked the beers from the cooler. She set them in front of the men at the bar. Their faces lost the closed and suspicious look they had worn since he entered. “Thanks, pardner,” the younger of the two said.
“No problem,” Lucas said.
The girl carried the other two beers over to the men at the pool table, then came back, wiping her hands on a rag. “We can sit over here,” she said, indicating a booth.
Lucas took his seat. “So,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got the advantage of me.”
“What?” she replied. “Oh. The name. Sorry.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Jules.”
Lucas took it. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “So, what’s got you so pissed off at Jack Keller?”
“How’s that your business?”
He shrugged. “Well, since he’s my patient…”
Her expression changed to one of alarm. “Your…wait, has he got some sorta disease? Is he some kinda escaped mental case?”
He chuckled. “Nothing that bad.” He eyed her shrewdly. “But I think you’d know if he was really dangerous.”
She glanced down at the table. “He still having the nightmares?” Lucas asked casually.
She