Day Shift

17

Joe went farther on his morning run than he’d ever gone. He enjoyed the quiet time for thinking, not that there was exactly a cacophony in Midnight or that Chuy’s conversation was not welcome. But sometimes the solitude of running was just what he needed. This morning, with the sun already blazing on his back, Joe was thinking of their little Peke, Rasta, and of all Rasta’s health problems. The dog was getting older, and Joe knew there would be hard times ahead. He and Chuy had not aged, or at least not that Joe could perceive, in many, many, years.

That didn’t mean they were invulnerable. Just as Joe was thinking of the previous week when Chuy had cut himself with a kitchen knife, Joe looked down, saw a rattlesnake right in front of him, and tried to leap sideways in midstride.

Joe realized three things as he lay by the side of the road. First, the snake had not been a diamondback at all, but a gopher snake. He still would not have wanted to tread on it, but it wouldn’t have injected him with poison. Second, he had landed poorly and his ankle was hurting like a bitch. And third, there was no one coming in any direction.

“Okay,” Joe said out loud. “Okay. First, I have to sit up.” His palms and elbows were scraped and bleeding. That was minor but uncomfortable. Joe rolled onto his knees and pushed up. He glanced around for the snake, but it was gone.

Sometimes Joe saw a rancher or a commuter to Magic Portal on his morning run, but today was not one of those days. He hobbled back into Midnight, struggling not to say any of the words that popped into his head. The pain tempted him to break a promise he and Chuy had made to each other long ago. Joe looked up at the blue sky, at a vulture floating on the thermals far above, his wings spread wide. He took a deep breath, restraining himself. A promise was a promise. He limped on.

The first person to spot him was the boy Diederik, who was standing outside the Rev’s cottage. Diederik came running to Joe’s aid, seeming delighted to have something to do.

“You need help, yes?” the boy said.

“Yes,” Joe said. “I definitely need help.”

He found it was very easy to put his arm around the boy’s offered shoulder. The boy was almost as tall as Joe now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Diederik, only realizing it was odd that he was the one asking the question as the words left his mouth.

“Very strange,” the boy said. “I feel like there are two people in me.”

Joe didn’t understand, but he didn’t have to, to see the boy’s distress. He said, “I know you miss your father.”

“He hoped to be back by now,” Diederik said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but failing. “I don’t think he will be back in time.” They were making progress on the sidewalk, and they crossed the road to the shop, Joe gasping with the effort. Diederik was feeling Joe’s weight after a few steps.

“The Rev’s trying hard to take good care of you,” Joe said.

“I miss my father and my mother,” Diederik said breathlessly. “But my father told me to be brave and he would return.”

Joe had no reply to that.

Chuy was reading a magazine at his workstation when Joe and Diederik made their awkward entrance, and his eyes widened as he looked from one to another.

“Mr. Joe saw a snake,” Diederik said simply. “And he fell down.”

“Pretty much in a nutshell,” Joe said, trying to smile.

“Let me see,” Chuy said, kneeling at Joe’s feet. Joe, feeling a little ridiculous — but also ridiculously glad to see Chuy — held out the injured limb. Chuy got the running shoe off quickly and as gently as possible, but the pulling and tugging made Joe gasp. The ankle was already discolored and swollen.

Chuy said, “I’ll run upstairs to get an ice pack.” His glance went over to Diederik. “And some clothes for the boy. For tomorrow.” He hurried out the front door to go up the outside stairs. Not for the first time, Joe reflected how nice it would be if their stairs were inside the building, like the ones in the pawnshop. He distracted himself by imagining the project. Maybe this winter…?

Diederik moved restlessly, and Joe realized it was past time to get his weight off the boy. “Help me over to the chair,” Joe said. “We’ll both feel better.”

Diederik helped Joe into one of the manicure chairs. Joe didn’t want to collapse onto one of the antiques in his sweaty condition. And the plastic chair rolled, a huge plus. Following Joe’s directions, the boy wheeled the other manicure chair over to prop Joe’s foot on. Then Diederik regarded Joe with a fascinated gaze until Chuy returned, his arms full.

First, Chuy wrapped the injured ankle in a washcloth, then put cold packs around it and secured them with an elastic bandage. He gave Joe a bottle of water, some ibuprofen, and a hug. Then he handed a pair of his own shorts and a T-shirt to Diederik. “For tomorrow,” he said.

“I don’t think I can grow any more,” Diederik said. “I am almost as big as you gentlemen!” He smiled. “But I’m grateful for the clothes.”

If anything could distract Joe from the pain in his ankle, this was it. “He looked about eleven the day after he got here,” he whispered. “Now he could be fifteen.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Chuy said, his voice low. “Diederik, where is the Rev?” he said, in a louder tone.

“He is digging a grave,” the boy said. “I offered to do it for him, but he said I could take a walk, that it was his sacred duty. And Miss Fiji, she didn’t have anything for me to do this morning, and no more muffins or cookies.” He looked at Chuy hopefully.

“Oh,” Chuy said. “Hmmm. I’ve got some English muffins. You could have them with butter and jelly.”

“I’m always hungry,” Diederik said simply.

“Then you watch Joe while I go fix them.” Chuy went out the front door to mount the stairs again.

Joe’s ankle was subsiding to a dull throb now. He figured nothing was broken.

“Is everyone in Midnight like me?” Diederik said suddenly.

“No, only the Rev,” Joe said. He would have enjoyed some quiet, but the boy was too restless for that. “We’ve never seen anyone like you, either,” he added, his eyes closed while he shifted the chairs around in an attempt to be more comfortable. “You’re growing so fast. I’ve seen you look at Grady. Most kids grow like him, not like you.”

“Am I very — peculiar?” Diederik had to grope for a word that would fit. His accent was not as pronounced as it had been when he’d first gotten to Midnight. In the few days he’d been in residence, his speech had grown, right along with everything else about him.

“Peculiar?” Joe thought about it. “No. Not in the sense of weird or bizarre. But I don’t think there are many like you around.”

Diederik fidgeted and finally went to seek out the broom and dustpan. He swept the already-clean area around Chuy’s workstation, and then the English muffins came downstairs borne by Chuy, along with a thermos of juice. Diederik fell on the muffins like he was starving, and he drank all the juice. He sat in one of the antique chairs very neatly and promptly fell asleep.

“Where’s Rasta?” Joe asked abruptly. The men exchanged startled glances.

“He was in here with me when you two came in!” Chuy leaped to his feet and began looking around. “You don’t think he got out when I went upstairs?”

“Maybe Mr. Snuggly sneaked in,” Joe said. Rasta and Mr. Snuggly had a long-running feud, though more often than not Rasta barked and danced around when Mr. Snuggly came near. He’d never hidden before.

Joe called, “Rasta! Here, boy!” with a kind of hushed urgency. He didn’t want to wake the boy.

They heard a pitiful whine.

“Look,” Chuy said, pointing to an old desk about ten feet away. A tiny face peered from behind the furniture, ears back.

“He’s scared,” Joe said, recognizing the look and attitude.

“Of what?”

Joe reached out a hand to touch Chuy’s arm. When Chuy looked down at him, Joe nodded toward the sleeping boy. “Him.”

They were thoughtful for a while. No one came into the store to disturb them, and the phone didn’t ring. None of the old people from the hotel stopped by, which was something of a relief. Visits from the newcomers formed an increasingly frequent (and not always welcome) part of the day. The boy slept on. From time to time, he twitched in his sleep or his hand went to his face as if something about it bothered him.

“He’s like the Rev,” Joe said finally, so quietly Chuy had to strain to hear him.

“But the Rev is the only one left.”

“He thought so. What if he was wrong?”

“So the boy is about to…” Chuy’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” breathed Joe. “Go look on the computer.” Chuy left most of the electronic work to Joe, but he could search for a calendar as well as anyone.

“Full moon in three nights,” he said. “What can we do to get ready?”

Joe shrugged. “We can stay upstairs and bolt the door,” he said. They fell silent and looked at Diederik.