Лоуренс Блок - Random Walk - A Novel for a New Age

Guthrie said his good-byes. When he and Jody embraced, he had a flash flood of memories of those first days back in June. Jody incredulous that he didn’t want a ride, Jody bringing back a six-pack of Coors, Jody quite incapable of driving off without coming back. Guthrie had been like Robinson Crusoe before he found the footprint, not even knowing how lonely he was. Ever since Jody had abandoned the Datsun pickup and started walking with him, Guthrie hadn’t been lonely once.

He felt love for this man, this curious saint who had traded his tattoo for the gift of healing pain. Warmth flowed from his heart as the two of them hugged, but when he let go he did so with no sense of loss. God only knew when he’d see Jody again, but God knew they’d never really leave each other.

“Well,” Jody said, holding him by the shoulders. “You go get ’em, hoss.”

“You too.”

“Tell me one thing. What do I do if I get lost?”

“Just don’t let on.”

One by one, the groups formed and left. Guthrie waited, determined to be the last to leave. When Dingo and Gary moved off with their crew, a large batch headed for Canada, he counted those who remained and came up with twenty-one. Sara was there, of course, as she’d said she would be. So were Herb and Aggie Curzon, one of the couples who’d driven up from Yellowstone in their camper. And Mark Adlon, who evidently had more to teach him. And Neila, the near-silent waif who’d walked out of the Hen House with Kate and Jamie, and who’d lost her silence altogether somewhere in the vastness of Montana. She was getting a massage from Mark Adlon, she the victim of child abuse and sexual torture, he the mass murderer of women; it wasn’t hard to imagine that those two had things to learn from each other.

And Jerry Arbison was there, and Amanita and her baby Jane. And two of the jack-Mormon kids; both of Gene’s wives were still with him, but two of the older children had decided to strike out on their own. And ten other people who had joined fairly recently, and whom he didn’t yet know very well. He’d know them soon enough, he thought. He’d have a chance now, the group was small enough once again so that everyone would know everyone else.

Wait a minute. Where was Thom Duskin?

“He went with Les and Georgia,” Sara said. “He wanted a look at the Southwest. And he and Jordan wanted to stick together, and Jordan had a strong vision of the desert during the breathing last night.”

“It must have been hard to let him go.”

“It was, but it was time, Guthrie. He’s a child, he’s thirteen, but I think they grow up fast on this walk. He’s going to be coming into his powers soon, and he can’t do that with his mother around, especially when she can see things that other people can’t. Besides,” she added, “Les and Georgia can use a little help.”

“You don’t think they’re good candidates for leaders?”

“I think they’re excellent, but I think they’re going to have their hands full, and not just after the baby comes.”

“The baby?”

“In about eight months. Maybe a little less than that.”

“They didn’t say a word.”

She smiled. “I don’t think they know yet. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell them.”

“I suppose they’ll find out soon enough. She’ll make a good mother. As far as that goes, he’ll make a good father. Remember when he couldn’t get that tire changed because the spare was flat? What an unlikely prospect he looked to be.”

“And he couldn’t get away from us. He was just going to walk to the nearest phone.”

“And you remember how he was with Mame? He didn’t care how slowly she walked, or if he had to carry her back when she couldn’t walk anymore. What a sweet man he turned out to be.” He frowned. “But how’ll they manage when her time comes? Will they be able to get to a hospital?”

“Gee, I hope so,” she said, very seriously. “Maybe they can find a hospital for her and a dentist for that kid who jumped down from the troop carrier.”

“You mean Ken. Did he go with them? I thought — oh, all right. They won’t need a hospital any more than he’ll need a dentist. I suppose if we can heal terminal illnesses we can handle a simple birth, can’t we? And people will stand in line for the honor of taking away her labor pains. God, imagine being born in a circle of breathers, with everybody tuned in and linked with you. Do you happen to know what she’s going to have?”

“A baby.”

“Really? I figured an otter. I mean is it going to be a boy or a girl?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

She grinned. “Nope,” she said. “There are some things, my dear, that we are not meant to know ahead of time.”

They walked back to Pipestone and headed east on Route 30. The sky was overcast, the day cooler than usual. He walked with Neila, then with one of the jack-Mormon kids. They all stopped for lunch at a Dairy Queen. He ate french fries from a paper cone and thought about Les and Georgia’s baby. “Do you happen to know what she’s going to have?” “A baby.” “Really? I figured an otter.”

Why an otter? Something somebody had said, but what and when?

Oh, right. “Then I started hearing all this crap on the news about women dying because of IUDs, or giving birth to otters, or whatever was happening to them—”

Kit, the day it all started, or got ready to start. Kit, fresh out of the abortion clinic, wearing an Oregon State sweatshirt and an ironic smile.

There was a pay phone down at the end of the counter. And the cashier, breaking a fresh roll of quarters, seemed perfectly willing to sell him as many as he wanted.

He studied the map for a few minutes, then went over to the phone. He could call Information, he thought, without necessarily calling her. It wouldn’t even cost him anything.

But when he lifted the receiver her number was just there, obligingly furnished by his memory. He couldn’t remember when he’d called her last, but there was her number. At least he thought it was her number.

So he more or less had to call, didn’t he? If only to see if it was really her number.

Dialing, he told himself she probably wouldn’t be home; he was still thinking that when she picked up midway through the second ring.

He said, “Kit, it’s Guthrie.”

“Woody or Arlo?”

“It’s hard to remember.”

“Where are you? Are you in town? What happened to you, where did you go to? When did you get back?”

“I’m not in town.”

“So where are you?”

“I’m a few miles east of Pipestone, Minnesota.”

“Now that’s funny,” she said. “I was just thinking to myself, I’ll bet the man is a few miles east of Pipestone, Minnesota. Where in the hell is Pipestone, Minnesota?”

“In the southwest corner of the state.”

“The state in question being Minnesota?”

“Very good.”

“What are you doing there?”

“Eating some french fries,” he said.

“They any good?”

“Your basic Dairy Queen fries.”

“A little too salty, as I remember.”

“A little too soggy, too.”

“Besides researching The Gourmet’s Guide to Fast Food —”

“I’m on my way east.”

“And you had a couple minutes between planes and thought you’d call an old friend?”

“No planes.”

“How’d you get there? You didn’t drive, you sold your car to Harry. Who turned a nice profit on it, according to rumor.”

“I’m glad for him. I walked here, Kit.”

A short silence. “I could have sworn you said—”

“I did.”

“Walked from Oregon?”

“That’s right.”

“This isn’t a joke. You walked from Oregon to Soapstone, Minnesota.”