The Devil in Silver

“He’s enjoying himself,” Redhead Kingpin said.

Pepper scooped up his dollop of macaroni salad in three bites. It felt terrible to have to wait on a man like that. Even worse to imagine Dorry really was still out there in the courtyard, lying under the plastic, suffocating. He could almost hear the flapping of that tarp as it rose and fell.

Redhead Kingpin pushed her chair back and said, “Wait here.”

Still Waters left with her.

On the television they were playing a whole lot of nothing, which was pleasing just now. People talk badly about mindless television, but the shit has its purposes. For instance, it stopped Pepper from tearing the keys off the orderly’s wrist and opening the glass door out to the courtyard and pulling back the tarp so poor Dorry could get some air.

Redhead Kingpin returned to the lounge, Still Waters trailing only inches behind her. Each of them carried an accordion folder. They took their seats again. One folder blue, the other manila.

“Those are Sue’s,” Pepper said.

Still Waters turned the manila folder, so Pepper could see the two words: “No Name.” Still Waters curled her left arm around the bottom of the folder like a boa constrictor.

“We’re keeping that one,” Redhead Kingpin said. She slid the blue folder between him and his dinner tray. “But she wanted you to have this.”

Pepper looked down at the blue folder. He saw two words written in black ink on the side: “Nice Dream.”

“Have you heard anything from her?” he asked. “About her?”

Both women pinched their mouths and shut their reddened eyes. That was their only answer.

He undid the elastic string that held the blue cover down. He opened the folder and saw all those pages from all those magazines. Reykjavik, Accra, Fiji, Wichita, Holland.

“She’ll never get to visit those places,” Redhead Kingpin said. “But it would make her happy if you ever saw even one of them.”

Pepper leafed through the pages. There were hundreds of them.

“How’s that ever going to happen?” Pepper whispered. “I’m stuck in here like everyone else.”

Still Waters leaned forward, pulling Sue’s No Name folder even closer to her chest. She concentrated on the tabletop when she spoke. “You be patient,” she whispered. “Let Mr. Mack enjoy his little games.”

“Then you escape,” Redhead Kingpin added. “Just like the rest of us.”

A nice dream, but Sue’s file had a nightmarish effect on Pepper. Holding the glossy pages, knowing she’d left without them, only made him grim. Why not hold on to these beautiful photos at least? Unless Sue had left New Hyde in the deepest pit of despair imaginable. A place where even fantasies must be abandoned. And because Pepper loved her, this thought filled him with anguish.

By the time he returned to his room after dinner, he’d decided to wait up for the Devil.

He didn’t know if it would come tonight, but let it come tonight.

He sat on the windowsill, his back to the two giant panes. He held the blue folder in his lap. He watched the ceiling. Let it come.

But the Devil didn’t show up.

Both it and Mr. Mack were going to make him wait.

Three more days and nothing going. Mr. Mack made the rounds each night, letting people know he’d decided to push the date back. He claimed he was giving people a chance to get their houses in order, but what did that mean exactly? Who fucking knew?

And over these three days Pepper disintegrated. He spent his mornings and afternoons sorting Sue’s magazine clippings by continent or climate or even just by how far away they were. And at night he sat in the windowsill and waited for the Devil. Three nights like that and the man wasn’t doing well. He hadn’t showered. He’d hardly eaten.

On the fourth morning, April 20, Scotch Tape visited Pepper’s room. The big man had been tardy for his morning meds. Scotch Tape found him lying on his double bed, clutching at a blue accordion folder.

“You got to get up,” Scotch Tape said. “Come on, Pepper.”

It was the first time Scotch Tape had said the name without a little salt in it.

“And you’re going to have to take these beds apart.”

Pepper sat up. He’d been sleeping on Sue’s side.

“You’re getting a new roommate,” Scotch Tape said.

“Today?”

“Soon.”

Scotch Tape watched as Pepper got out of bed. Pepper wore the blue pajama top and bottom. He had a little trouble getting out of bed because he wouldn’t put the folder down. Scotch Tape had believed this man was fine, mentally, only sixty-two days ago. But now?

“Let’s go,” Scotch Tape said brusquely, just to stop thinking.

Pepper walked with Scotch Tape to the nurses’ station. He took his meds. As he swallowed, he heard all this conversation coming from the television lounge.

“What’s going on?” Pepper asked, pointing to Northwest 5.

Scotch Tape was back inside the nurses’ station already. A stack of files sat next to the computer. Pepper could read the name on the tabs. “Doris Walczak.” There were fifty-two different files. The records of Doris Walczak’s entire stay at New Hyde. Ready to be logged.