Michael Langlois - Bad Radio

Anne jumped up and bolted for the house, “I got it.”

“I’m so sorry, Henry. I should have sent the two of you away as soon as I knew they were coming.”

“I wouldn’t have gone. It’s my fight, too. You and I, we deserve this. We should have finished it a lifetime ago in Warsaw, but we didn’t, we ran away. It’s my fault that Leon is hurt, not yours.” He wiped a smooth hand across his old, tired face. “I thought I was educating him, telling him about the real world. From the day he found out, he wanted to know more. In the last few years, he’s even been helping me with my research, if you can believe that.

“I thought I was opening his eyes and making him safe, but in the end I think I was just looking for someone to share my burden.” He fussed with Leon’s blanket. “I knew that if I told him those things were coming, he’d insist on being here. I knew it and I told him anyway. I wanted him to be here, because I was afraid. Now Carlos is dead, and Leon isn’t far from joining him.”

“How do you think Leon would have felt if you hadn’t told him, and you had been killed? He’s no different than you were at his age when you were putting yourself in harm’s way. Nobody could have stopped you then, any more than you can stop him now.”

“We shouldn’t have run.”

“I know.”

“We could have finished it, Abe. We could have ended it once and for all, but instead I’ve lived my life afraid, and you just plain stopped living.”

“If we had chased Piotr back into the switching station that day, we probably would have died. We were hollowed out, Henry. You know that. Shad was dead and I was delirious when you pulled me out of that pool. Everybody else was wounded. Hell, it was all Frank and Don could do to get us out of there.”

Henry smiled tightly and nodded. “Frank. Old Two Penny almost bled out by the time we got help. We didn’t even know he was shot.”

I remembered. “He was a tough son of a bitch.” Cancer had killed him at the age of seventy-four. His funeral was the last time I had gone out into the world before closing myself off.

I hoped Frank’s widow was still around. “You know where Georgia lives these days?”

“I’ve tried to keep touch. I’ve got her address in the house. You think they know where she is?”

“They knew where to find you and Patty. Besides, they aren’t going to give up on the last piece.” I heard Anne yell across the yard that the ambulance was on its way. I glanced back and saw that she was coming with more blankets and some clean towels from the house. “We should have gotten his piece at the funeral.”

“I told you that at the time.”

“Well, now I’m agreeing with you.”

Anne draped the new blankets over Leon, cocooning him from neck to toe. Then she began cleaning his face with a damp towel. None of that was really helping, but I figured she needed to feel like she was doing something. Long nights at Maggie’s side had made me familiar with the feeling.

Henry stood up slowly and sucked in his breath as his shoulder moved. “Let me get my address book so you can get moving. You two need to be gone when the authorities arrive.”

I watched Henry and Leon dwindle in the rearview mirror until the curve of the gravel drive took them away. Henry wanted me to keep going on this fool’s errand, despite the risk to both his and Leon’s life, so that he could have a chance at peace, at closure, before he died. We both knew how slim that chance was.

Anne’s eyes were red like she had been crying, but I never saw her shed a tear. When she spoke, her voice was strong and steady. “Where are we going?”

“Airport.” I handed her two wallets. One was brown leather and the other was silver fabric and Velcro. They were both well worn and looked like part of someone’s life. I had taken them from the baitbags who had attacked us. “Take a look and see what you can tell me.” She took them from me like they were live snakes.

“The airport isn’t a destination. What am I looking for?”

“Those things used to be people. They lived somewhere, and I’m betting that’s where they were … changed. And to answer your question, we’re going to DC to look up the widow of Frank Eaton.”

“Frank Eaton. That was Two Penny, right?”

“That’s right. Got his name because his family was really poor, even for folks during the depression. One day he found a penny in the barracks, and some wiseass congratulated him, saying that he could quit the army a rich man, now that he had two pennies to rub together.” I had to smile remembering it. Two Penny had laughed louder than any of us.

“You guys were assholes.”

“Damn straight. Wallets?”

“I’m doing it, shut up.” I drove while she went through them carefully, even flexing the empty pieces in her hands to feel for anything sewn inside. “It’s hard to match the things that tried to burn us alive with the owners of these wallets, you know? That big guy was named David Burgher. He’s got a library card in here, and pictures of his kids. Can you believe that? Look at this, he’s wearing some goofy Christmas sweater and everything.”

I glanced at the picture. He was smiling with his arms around two blonde children, a boy and a girl. Next to him was a pretty woman leaning on his shoulder. It was one of those studio portraits that people used to get at department stores for their Christmas cards. I guess they still do.

Anne put the picture down. “Whoever turned him into that thing deserves to die. He was just a regular guy. I wonder what happened to his family.”

“I hope they’re fine and wondering where he is.”

“But you don’t think so?”

I just shrugged. “Where’s he from?”

“His license has an address in Belmont, Wyoming. The library card is from there, too.”

“How about the other one? Same town?”

She rummaged through the other wallet and produced a driver’s license. “Nope. This one, Jeff Grant, is from Columbus, Ohio. Sorry.”

“Dammit.”

“Maybe this Peter guy is just moving around, catching people as he goes.”

“Maybe. But the last time I saw him, he had spent months sacrificing people and stockpiling their blood in a giant pit. That’s not very portable. I’m betting that he’s holed up somewhere with a high enough population to avoid arousing suspicion when people start disappearing. If I had to pick one of the two places, I’d bet on Columbus. I’ve never heard of Belmont, but if it’s not Casper or Cheyenne, it’s probably too small to hide a bunch of murders.”

“Looks like Jeff was a student at OSU. Not too good with the ladies, either.”

“What makes you say that?”

She waved a condom in a wrapper so old that the logo was too faded to read. “My keen deductive skills.”

“That’s pretty good for a girl.”

“Jerk.” She laughed and threw the condom at me. I was fishing it off of the floorboard with a grin when her phone rang. She glanced at the number and flipped it open. “Hi, Henry.”

I watched while she was on the phone. She spent more time listening than talking, but she seemed relieved, so that was good. It was that time of the day when the afternoon sunlight turns gold, between the white of noon and the copper of sunset. Fall trees just beginning to show a few red and yellow leaves stood proud and tall to either side of the black velvet asphalt and swayed seductively in the breeze. The sky was blue like a daydream and the crisp scents of fall filled the car. I felt happy, comfortable in my skin, and at peace.

Anne closed the phone and looked over to see me watching her. “Henry and Leon are on the way to the hospital. He says that Leon’s back really is broken, but that he’s stable now and out of danger.”