Blood Men

chapter fifty-eight

I wake up in the early afternoon with Sam cuddled up next to me. I let her carry on sleeping while I make some coffee and go about waking up some more. I switch on the TV and can’t find any news anywhere, as if this city is sick of the news now. There are holiday movies on, a fantasy on one channel, action on another, drama everywhere else, and I wonder what Hollywood would think if one day a Christchurch story showed up on its doorstep-whether it’d think the tale was too dark or too real to turn into a Christmas blockbuster. I prop Sam up in front of one of the movies and she watches it quietly, not laughing or smiling or even saying a word. She misses her mum and she misses Mr. Fluff ’n’ Stuff and she doesn’t understand why we’re spending Christmas Day in a motel room instead of our home, or with her grandparents.

I take Sam to the cemetery so she can spend some time with her mother. With all that’s happened, I figure it’ll be the last time the three of us are together for a while. I carry Sam out of the car and sit her down by her mother’s grave and we hold hands and I tell her over and over that everything is going to be okay. There are plenty of other people out at the cemetery, all of them like me, spending time with the dead; Christmas Day is a day for celebration no matter what world you’re in. When I head back to the car with Sam, people keep watching us, and though I’m used to it, this morning it bothers me more than ever. I shield Sam from their stares and drive her back to the motel. She’s asleep again before we get there, and I lay her back on the bed and check on her every five or ten minutes, sometimes holding her hand, not sure what I should do next. I leave the TV on and flick channels but nothing of any interest comes up. Outside, Christmas afternoon is looking like a hot one; only a couple of clouds in the sky, the sun beating down on the city. Mine’s the only car in the parking lot out front. I figure everybody else has family or a better place to be than this motel.

I sit at the window watching the Christmas day, thinking about what today could have meant, about the presents we didn’t get to give, the family time we never got to have, the Christmas lunch and barbecue dinner and the excitement of Santa. I think about my dad, wondering where he is now, what or who he’s looking for. I think about the darkness he’s trying to satisfy. My own monster is quiet now, and maybe that’s the way it’ll stay.

My thoughts turn to Schroder when his car pulls in to the motel parking lot. Two patrol cars pull up alongside him, but Schroder is the only one who gets out. A fourth car, a dark station wagon, also pulls in. I watch Schroder go to the office; he disappears inside for about sixty seconds, then comes back out. It’s Christmas Day and I figure he’d rather be anywhere else but here, and I’m the same-except there are still a few places worse than this, for me. Jail is one of them. The slaughterhouse is another.

He walks past my window and glances in and sees me but doesn’t stop. He heads right to the door and knocks on it.

“Come on, Eddie,” he says, going with Eddie instead of Edward, and I figure he thinks it makes him sound friendly. “Open up.”

“Leave us alone,” I say.

“Eddie. .”

“It’s Christmas.”

“You can’t keep her here.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep your daughter here. It isn’t right.”

“There are plenty of things that aren’t right.”

“I know that, Eddie.”

“You were wrong.”

“About what?”

“About a lot of things,” I say. “Mostly about this city being on a precipice. It’s already fallen, don’t you see that?”

“Open the door, Eddie.”

I get up and open the door. There’s nowhere to run, and no need to. It’s all over. I have my daughter back and the police can deal with the rest, they can find my dad, they can find the men who killed my wife. Schroder doesn’t look as if he’s slept. He steps inside, carrying a brown paper bag.

“Don’t take her yet,” I say.

“Eddie. .”

“Please, it’s Christmas.”

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s. . it’s just the way it is.”

I take a step back. Schroder looks over at the other cars and the station wagon turns around and backs toward the room. Schroder comes in and looks down at Sam, who isn’t even aware of his presence.

“Such a beautiful little girl,” he says.

“I know.”

“I have a daughter of my own,” he says. “And a son.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, I guess I wanted you to know. Maybe what you said about this city, maybe I should take your advice and get out of here.”

“Then who will protect it?”

Two men step out of the station wagon and open the back of it. They lift out a gurney and a sheet.

“Let me take her,” I say.

“It’s not how it’s done.”

“Please. .”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m really, really sorry.”

At first I stand back as the two men come inside, and then Schroder has to hold me back as they lay Sam on the stretcher. They unfold a sheet and drape it over her, then carry her away. Schroder opens the paper bag in his hand and pulls out Mr. Fluff ’n’ Stuff. He lifts the sheet and tucks it between Sam’s arm and her body.

“We’ll take good care of her,” he says.

I try to say something but can’t. It feels like Schroder has extended his fist right down my throat. I cry, and right then Schroder embraces me and I let it all out, crying on his shoulder as the two men take my dead daughter out of the motel room and out of my life.