The Devil in Silver

The old man nodded and waved at her. He slipped in front of Pepper, marching next to Yuckmouth. “All of us are going, because all of us are at risk if we stay. But first, we’ll find that thing,” Mr. Mack promised. “Instead of being trampled, we’re going to do some trampling.”

“And what about when we’re out?” Pepper asked. “Have you thought that far?”

Mr. Mack sighed. “We get out and we’re free. Every man and woman can do whatever the hell they want to. First thing I’m going to do is sneak back into the parking lot and piss on the doctor’s car. I know which one it is.”

They walked, and Pepper let Mr. Mack gloat over his imagined victory to come. A piss-stained tire. Dream big! Pepper had a feeling that Mr. Mack’s plans didn’t go any further than that. He finally had a little power and what did he want to do with it? Ruin shit. Nothing more.

Pepper could still see the sign for the bus stop two stores down from Sal’s. Even if the bus was slow, it would, eventually, come. A six-block sprint. If they ran in the street instead of the sidewalk, they could avoid doing something stupid like tripping and spraining an ankle, a bad scene from a horror movie. If they really could slip out unnoticed by the staff, he and Loochie could wait for that bus as calmly as they pleased. They’d be off long before any alerts were raised. The other patients, if they wanted to, could spend their time relieving themselves all over New Hyde’s parking lot. He’d be gone. And he was taking Loochie with him.

“When?” Pepper asked.

Mr. Mack spoke without turning back, so Pepper and Loochie had to lean forward to hear him. From a distance, you would’ve mistaken them for subjects bowing to an emperor.

“When I’m ready,” Mr. Mack said. “Until then, you just sit tight.”

Loochie opened her mouth to protest, but Pepper touched her arm and shook his head. “You see this path we’re taking? Back to New Hyde?” he whispered. “I want you to memorize it.”

It might seem unnecessary to commit a six-block walk to memory. Compare that with stories of people who marched from one country to another to escape the ravages of some hellacious war. (Like the Von Trapps.) But imagine it’s nighttime and you’re zonked on pharmaceutical drugs. A walk to the damn bathroom might turn you around. Both Pepper and Loochie knew this personally, so they whispered the street names to themselves. Noted little landmarks.

“What’s the signal going to be?” Pepper asked.

“Keep your mouth shut,” Mr. Mack said. “That’s the signal.”

Loochie noted the enormous tree that actually tilted so far over that some of its leaves caressed the roof of a one-family house. You’d remember something like that, night or day.

“You got cut off before,” Loochie said to Mr. Mack. “There were two things in that envelope, right? The map and what else?”

But Mr. Mack didn’t turn his head, didn’t break his stride, and he sure as hell didn’t deign to answer her.

37

SO THEY WAITED.

Pepper thought this might mean hanging back until dinnertime. When he reached the television lounge that evening, he felt a charge seeing Mr. Mack going from table to table, whispering in the ear of each patient gathered there. Pepper had taken his meds but was expert enough by now to know his drowsiness would pass in about twenty minutes. He went to the orderly and took his tray. When he scanned the tables he realized all the patients sat with their backs to the courtyard.

The police had set out a tarp right over the patch of concrete where Dorry had bled out. The crime scene. The tarp was weighed down with fist-sized stones so it wouldn’t blow away. But when the wind slipped underneath, the plastic tarp rose and fell, rose and fell. In the dark it looked like Dorry’s body might still be under there breathing.

Pepper sat with his back to the smokers’ court, just like everybody else. He took a seat with Redhead Kingpin and Still Waters. Back inside the unit, they were a team again. He was surprised to see them. It was only seven p.m.

“You all are up early,” Pepper said.

Redhead Kingpin poked at her macaroni salad with her spoon. “Haven’t gone to sleep since Xiu left.”

Pepper looked to Still Waters, who could barely lift her head, but this time it wasn’t out of shyness.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” Pepper told her, trying to be playful.

She stared at her tray. “I’m all cried out.”

Then Mr. Mack came to their table. He stood across from Pepper. He didn’t even have to lean down to look Pepper in the eye. He held Pepper’s gaze. “Tonight …” Mr. Mack began.

He looked over his shoulder at the orderly who had his now-hospital-approved cell phone out and was texting away.

Mr. Mack looked back at Pepper, who was nodding so enthusiastically that he felt like a mutt.

“… is not the night,” Mr. Mack finished.

Then he bowed slightly and turned away. He walked to the edge of the television lounge and raised one arm. They all looked to him. Mr. Mack twirled his hand, haughty as an aristocrat. After that, he left the lounge.