F Wilson: Deep as the Marrow

“Pack your things,” he told Gold. “But only the necessities.”

Gold rolled his head heavenward. “Thank God!”

“And send me Llosa,” Carlos said. “We have some loose ends to tie up before we leave.”

9

“Are you my cousin?” Poppy looked up at the Appleton standing before her—towering was more like it. She and Katie had been standing outside Lester’s section of the house when the guy came up and like started staring.

He could have been in his late teens or as old as thirty and had to be six-six, three hundred pounds. He rocked back and forth on his bare feet, hands behind his back. Thin, frizzy brown hair grew close to his scalp; he wore bib overalls over a flannel shirt, and she could smell him from here. But his face put her off even more. With his big, long head, wide-set brown eyes, and long, stretchedout nose, he reminded her of a horse… a fat horse, with half its teeth missing.

“Yes, I guess I am,” Poppy said, forcing the words out. “I’m your cousin Poppy.”

He laughed, and damn if it didn’t sound like a bray. “And I’m your cousin Levon.” He turned his attention to Katie. “And who’s this cousin?”

Katie had been clinging to Poppy’s thigh, and now she was pressing so hard against it she seemed to be trying to melt into it.

“This is Katie and she’s not kin. She’s just a very good friend. I’m keeping her for her daddy.”

“That’s nice,” Levon said, still staring. “You both sure are pretty.” Don’t get any ideas. Poppy thought. Her impression of the sexual practices of the Appletons was that they weren’t like too picky. She didn’t want to know any more.

Suddenly Levon’s hands came out from behind him and he was thrusting something toward Katie.

“Here,” he said. “This is for you.” Katie whimpered and cringed deeper into Poppy’s thigh. It took Poppy a few seconds to figure out what Levon was offering. It was made of ragged, filthy cloth and seemed to be stuffed with something. In some bizarre way it looked vaguely human.

“It’s my doll,” Levon said. “I had it ever since I was little. I brought it so Katie could play with it.”

“Thank you, Levon,” Poppy said, touched. “That’s real… sweet.” She looked up and saw him smiling, pushing the doll toward Katie. He really wanted her to have it, but Poppy knew there was no way Katie was going to touch it. And no way they could turn it down. Steeling herself. Poppy reached out and took the doll with her fingertips.

“Katie’s a little scared right now with all these… new faces around.” Jesus, she’d almost said strange.

“Why don’t she come down and play with the kids. We—”

A sudden whirring noise interrupted him. An engine of some sort, with a low-pitched rhythmic beat, coming closer, filling the air with noise.

And then she saw it: a helicopter.

Levon started running about, shouting for Lester who came limping around a corner, moving as fast as his bent spine would let him.

“Guns!” he shouted. “It’s the ATF come for the stills! Everybody get your guns!” Poppy looked about, and saw Appletons running everywhere, ducking into the house and reappearing with rifles and pistols.

“Better get back inside,” Lester said as he hobbled up to her. “This could be serious.” Poppy backed up under an overhang but didn’t go inside.

She was pretty sure that wasn’t an ATF copter; most likely it was looking for her instead of bootleg stills. She didn’t want to tell Lester that, but she couldn’t let all the Appletons get into federal-level hot water for her.

“Don’t shoot,” she told him. “You’ll only get in trouble.”

Lester stood staring at the copter which hadn’t come overhead yet. It remained hovering at the base of the rise.

“We’re not lookin‘ for trouble,” he said, “but we’ll surely provide it if someone starts it.”

“No. You don’t understand—” The helicopter suddenly turned and roared off.

“Lucky for them,” Lester said, spitting. “Damn lucky for them.”

Yeah, but unlucky for me, I’ll bet.

10

“Look!” Vanduyne said, pointing ahead through the windshield. “Tire tracks. And they look fresh.”

Bob Decker hid his relief. Finally a sign of intelligent life. They’d turned off 563 about twenty-five miles ago.

Somewhere along the way the pavement had disappeared but they’d kept going on the hard-packed sand. But going where? Not only had they not seen another human being for the past 25 miles, they hadn’t seen a trace of civilization. Not even litter. Except for the ruts they were following, this was exactly how the area must have looked before Columbus.

The sense of isolation was more than oppressive; Bob found it downright unsettling. He’d been beginning to suspect they were hopelessly lost, but now these tire tracks suggested that civilization might not be too far away.

“Wait a minute!” Vanduyne said. “Stop.”

Bob angled around the branches of a fallen tree that jutted onto the road, hit the brakes, and brought the big Roadmaster to a halt.

“What’s up?”

“That fallen tree,” Vanduyne said. “This is the second time we’ve passed it. These are our tire tracks. We’ve just come full circle.” He slumped back. “This is hopeless! We’re no closer to finding Katie now than we were this morning, and now…” He slammed his fist against the door.

Bob Decker kept his eyes on the narrow sandy path ahead and had to admit Vanduyne was right. They were very lost. They’d been taking forks this way and that, thinking the road eventually would loop them back around toward Sooy’s Boot. But all they’d done was loop back on themselves.

How much was the poor bastard supposed to take before he detonated? Vanduyne’s best and oldest friend had let him down when he needed him most—Bob perfectly understood that Razor had no choice, but he was sure that wasn’t how Vanduyne saw it—and his daughter was still missing. Plus the two of them had been cooped up together in this sedan all day. And now they were lost.

Very lost.

Bob hid his own unease and frustration and tried to sound upbeat when he replied.

“Not true. We’ve covered a lot of ground, spoken to a lot of Mulliners—”

“But the afternoon’s half gone and we still haven’t got a clue to her whereabouts.”

“We know where she’s not. We—”

“You said we’d find her today. Bob. Be honest: Do you still believe that?”

Truthfully, the chances were dwindling with each passing hour. But that didn’t mean it still couldn’t happen.

“We’ve still got lots of light left.” How was that for a nonanswer?

“I’m not so sure of that,” Vanduyne said, craning his neck and pointing past Decker. “See those clouds? They’re thunderheads. We’ve got a storm coming. And it looks like a big one.” Bob glanced left at the massing clouds that had indeed taken control of most of the western sky. They’d started out white and billowy but turned dark and ominous after swallowing the sun.

Yeah. A storm would be a problem.

“I’ll call Canney and see how he’s doing,” Decker said. The FBI man had split off to cover another area with a fellow FBI agent. “Maybe he’s onto—”

Suddenly a staticky squawk filled the car. “SSD, do you read? SSD, this is Search One.”

Bob grabbed the transceiver. “Got you Search One. What’ve you got?”

“We’ve got a vehicle similar to the object vehicle in sight below.” Since this was an open channel, and God knew who else was listening, “object vehicle” was the code they’d chosen for a red panel truck.

“Parked or on the move?”

“It’s stationary. Parked in a small clearing with four or five other vehicles… downhill from a very strange looking house.”