HE STOOD OUTSIDE THE EMERGENCY ROOM DOORS SMOKING A cigarette. Pacing. Talking to himself. Russell wondered where that son of a bitch had gone and if he had bled to death yet and he hated that he hadn’t fired on him until Larry had to be carried out of the house in pieces. He smoked the cigarette down and tossed it and lit another. There was blood on the shoulder of his shirt where he had picked Maben up and carried her, a trickle coming from her ear as her head fell against him. He had laid her across the seat of the truck and driven like hell, nearly causing pileups as he ignored the red lights of at least three intersections. Two young men in scrubs had come through the automatic glass doors and taken her from the truck and laid her on a stretcher and he told them she got hit in the head as they wheeled her out of sight. He couldn’t take it in there so he went back out and he had been pacing and smoking and waiting. A woman behind the desk kept waving to him from inside and shaking a clipboard at him, wanting him to come in and tell her what he knew. But he shook his cigarette back at her and ignored her.
It was about that time when the cruiser pulled into the emergency room driveway. Boyd saw Russell and so he looped around and parked and then he met Russell on the sidewalk.
“Heard it over the wire,” Boyd said. “Heard your address. You okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
Boyd tapped the tip of his index finger on the blood on Russell’s shoulder. “Who does that belong to?”
Russell flicked away his cigarette. Stood up straight and looked out across the parking lot. He felt Boyd’s eyes on him. Knew that he was running out of things to say to him. Running out of alleys to hide in. Running out of excuses to make. Knew that the next thing Boyd would do was to go inside and find out what happened. Find out it was Maben in there. Then he’d wait until she could make a sentence. Whether it was an hour or a day or a week he would be the first person she’d see when she opened her eyes and then she’d have to answer and there was no way to know how she’d answer after the whack she’d taken on the side of the head. Or if she would be able to answer at all. Maybe she’d forget everything. Maybe she’d forget just enough. No telling what was going to come out of her mouth if she ever started talking again. No telling what might be left in her head.
“What happened, Russell? You can either tell me now or tell me later.”
Russell lit another cigarette. “Went to my house and Larry was in there. Had a woman with me and he hit her with a crowbar or something. Thinking it was me. Then me and him got into it and I got hold of my gun and shot his ass.”
“Cops been here yet?”
“Not yet.”
Boyd walked a small circle. Hands on his hips. “So. Who was she?”
“Just a woman.”
“It bad?”
“Guess so. Fucking crowbar to the side of the head.”
Boyd walked another circle. Wanted Russell to come out and say who she was without having to ask again but it didn’t seem to be coming.
“Who was it?” he asked in a dead tone.
Russell held his head back and blew smoke into the air. Wiped at the blood on his shirt. Then he pointed at the cruiser and said, “You got some gas in that thing?”
“I got some.”
“Then come on. Let’s go for a ride.”
Russell started for the car and Boyd followed him and they got in and left the hospital parking lot, passing a police car pulling in. Boyd said which way and Russell told him to go out to the lake. They rode through and out of town in silence. The radio called out a wreck on the highway but they didn’t need everybody and Boyd told them he was checking on something at a tractor place out near Pricedale. At the lake Boyd drove slowly and waited on Russell to give him another direction and finally Russell did as he guided him to his favorite spot. The cruiser eased down the dirt road and squeezed between the trees. They stopped at the water’s edge.
“Kill it,” Russell said. Boyd turned off the lights and the ignition. Russell got out of the car and sat on the hood and Boyd sat down next to him. He folded his arms and waited. Russell finished his cigarette and he stepped to the water and tossed it into the lake. He didn’t want to go back. He could still smell it. He could hear the shouts and threats and promises that would come his way when he returned. There were so many fights left to fight but he knew that he could take it better than she could.
He turned and faced Boyd.
“Got to trust each other. Told us that every day for four years, didn’t he?” Russell said. “I bet Coach Noland’s still saying it to whoever will listen. Got to trust each other.”
“Got sick of hearing it,” Boyd said.