Still not great, but better. He chuckled, pointing to the slightly open barn door. Go in there. I have a little discipline issue in there for you to take care of.
Eddie approached the door hesitantly. Punishment had never been one of his responsibilities, except for that time when How disciplined him by making him beat Tuck, and he did not relish a new experience of that type, nor did he want to give How the impression that he wanted it to occur on a regular basis. The door gave a high-pitched squeal as he pulled it forward.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, he saw a body resting on the hay-dusted floor not far from where he had arranged his shelves the previous night in neat rows on pieces of plastic tarp. The figure was alive and clearly in a reasonable amount of pain, weakly writhing and groaning, straining to push a gag out of its mouth. Eddie went back to the door and swung it wider to let more light in. When he peered out, How made eye contact with him; a stifled laugh trumpeted out of his face. Confused, Eddie went back inside and got a closer look at the person on the floor.
Under all the bruises and lacerations, and behind the swollen eyes, he recognized his mother.
Oh Lord—Ma, what happened?
His head swelled with blood and his lungs seized up as he approached her. He felt his legs giving way, so he took the opportunity to kneel beside her. He checked the space for a rag he could wet to clean off her wounds or soothe the purple abstractions developing all over her skin. Finding one nearby that was not completely filthy, he got on all fours and reached across her to grab it. Using its cleanest corner, he dabbed as much drying blood off her split, swollen lips as he could without reopening any wounds. Gently he removed the gag.
What did they do?
Oh, honey, don’t worry about me, this isn’t anything. Her lips and her usual missing teeth got in the way of her speech, but she still tried to sound casual. Look at you, all worried about me, she teased. That’s a cute one. She groaned and twisted her torso.
I found out some good news, she said.
But what did they do?
Never mind what they did. The only part of me they can hurt is my body.
Mama, you’re using, aren’t you?
They must think I’m gonna kick the bucket or something, is that why How’s letting me see you? She managed a huff in place of a laugh. Maybe I’m dead already.
He wants me to give you some kind of punishment.
Her nearly shut eyes widened to the best of their ability and she coughed. These Delicious people are out of their minds. All I wanted was a good job.
What did you say about good news?
Hush! He’s behind you, she murmured.
Uncomfortable with the idea of keeping his back to the guy, Eddie turned and stood to face How. He remained silent and stared, trying to push How to the ground with his eyes but waiting for the official explanation.
Should’ve been picking limes but she ran down the road started talking to some guy from some newspaper. So I started her, but I’m going to get a bag of pork rinds, so I need you to keep it going for a while. Looking around the space randomly, How handed Eddie a wood plane and a spoon gouge. Go to it, he said. We need to make an example. He laughed—Did he expect Eddie to take him seriously? It felt like another attempt at a fucked-up joke.
All right, he said.
Eddie took a tool in each hand and turned them so that their handles faced out. He suspected that How, or even Sextus, had some kind of test in mind—of Eddie’s ruthlessness, his loyalty to the company, his willingness to follow orders. He wondered how close they thought he was to the kind of monster who would perform this task without hesitation, then considered what a mother would have to do to deserve such treatment from her son, and then, more dangerously, that maybe his mother had done one or two things from that list, but that this had no bearing on whether or not he could or should go through with his orders. Generally he felt that she needed his help far more than he needed to balance their relationship. There had never been a question about whether he would do as they asked; not a single nerve in his body twitched in the direction of fulfilling his assignment. Besides, what bizarre tortures did How expect him to invent with a plane and a spoon gouge?
The guy didn’t have a whole lot of compartments in his emotional TV dinner, it occurred to Eddie. Eddie had counted How’s moods in the past, hoping to be surprised, but only ever saw How expressing either mild amusement at other people’s bad luck, like he’d just shown, or seething, molten rage that might as well have come up through his feet directly from the actual Devil.
Eddie thought that How was about to go off again, so he turned away and knelt by his mother.
You know the rules, Ma, he said. Or don’t you?
He set the plane aside, raised the gouge, and then brought it down in such a way that it missed her body and lodged in the dirt floor, where he worked it back and forth, exaggerating the movement of his shoulders and elbows. Darlene instantly understood his plan and volunteered a variety of pained shouts and groans to help make the injury seem real. Eddie’s body blocked the tool’s real trajectory from How’s view, but apparently this theatrical presentation worked, satisfying the supervisor enough that he let out a grunt that seemed to express his cooler emotion and probably convinced him that he had broken Eddie’s will and exposed the depth of the boy’s ambition. Encouraging Eddie to continue, How left the barn.