The Last Child

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

“He tried to kill me,” Jack said. “You saw it. Jesus. That big motherfucker tried to kill me dead.”

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” Johnny knelt beside Freemantle. “Don’t be such a girl.”

“Don’t touch him, Johnny. What are you doing?”

“I’m not touching him. Chill.” Johnny leaned closer to Freemantle. “He’s just sick.” Freemantle’s lips were moving, and there were words there, Johnny thought. He leaned closer.

“… house is on fire… Momma’s on fire…”

Johnny heard it.

“… house is on fire… Momma’s on fire…”

The words slipped away. Johnny looked up. “Did you hear that?”

“No.”

“Come help me.”

“Screw that.”

“He needs medicine or a hospital.”

“Fine,” Jack said. “We’ll go home and call the ambulance. Let them worry about it.”

“If we call an ambulance, they’ll call the cops and I won’t find out what he knows.”

“Let the cops ask him. That’s their job.”

“The cops want him for murder. They think Alyssa is dead. They won’t ask him anything. Not fast enough anyway.” Johnny pushed on Freemantle’s shoulder but the man didn’t stir.

“So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, man. Alright? I’m making this up as I go. I just need one more chance. Some time, that’s all. God damn it, Jack, just help me.”

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Watch him. I’m going to get the truck.”

“That’s twenty minutes.”

But Johnny was already gone. Jack looked down at Freemantle’s cracked lips, eyes that rolled behind paper lids. “This sucks,” he said, then picked up the pistol. He pointed it at Levi Freemantle, then sat on the dirt.

Levi burned in a black fire. He knew it was fire because he’d been on fire before. He’d been on fire in a burning house, his momma in his arms, her hair gone up like a torch. He didn’t know why the house was burning or why he was in it now. Seemed like that had happened a long time ago.

But he was burning.

Pain so bad it was under his skin.

He heard voices, far away; and he tried to tell them.

… house is on fire… Momma’s on fire…

But they couldn’t hear him. And nobody came to help.

Nobody came.

Skin so hot.

Burning…

Johnny ran all the way, and was sucking wind when he made it to the truck. He climbed in, closed the door. The key was slick between his fingers, but the engine turned over. Blue smoke rolled in the still air. Gospel on the radio. Johnny drove for the barn and left the motor running. Jack stood in the door and looked miserable.

“How are you going to get him up?”

Johnny didn’t answer. He hopped out of the truck, went into the barn, and knelt by Freemantle. He called his name, then touched his arm and looked up. “This guy’s on fire.”

“Duh.”

“No. It’s gotten worse. He’s burning up.”

“… Momma’s on fire… house is on fire…”

“What the hell?” Jack leaned closer. “Did you hear that?”

Johnny pointed toward the burned house. “I think his mother died in that fire.” Johnny pushed on the man’s shoulder one last time, shook him hard. He rocked back on his knees. “We can’t get him in the truck by ourselves.”

“He came around once.”

“We should throw water on his face.”

“That only works in the movies.”

“Shit,” Johnny said.

“I say we leave him here and get the hell out.”

Johnny shook his head. “We wait.”

“Enough’s enough, Johnny.”

“I stole the truck. I make the call.”

So they waited, blue smoke in the air, gospel on the radio.