Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Xavier - Day 853

Xavier began to fan himself with the front of his shirt. It only pulled in the stagnant smell of sweat and an overcooked stew—the remnants of which sat within a bowl only a few feet away. There was only slight relief brought on by the fanning. He needed more. A water pitcher. Xavier removed himself from the chair and tried to help himself to it.

“Sit!” The Soldier in the front room reminded him where he was.

He cringed his way back into the chair and waited. It was miserable. It was never the intention of anyone to use this office again. No reason to make it more comfortable in these late days of August. Haverty hadn’t thought of that before moving in. Greedy bastard!

The room was large with ornate furnishings. A proper throne room for an improper king. It was beautiful, enticing. Not obvious with the drawbacks that he now faced from his shortsightedness. The heat was probably the reason he wasn’t there. Such a large man in a room more accurately described as an oven could be a stroke waiting to happen.

Xavier kept his eyes upon the water pitcher. Wondering how closely he was really being watched, he stood again.

“Sit!”

“I need to stretch.” He half-heartedly tugged at his limbs and attempted to move around the room.

“Just sit down and…” The Soldier’s voice trailed off into a muffled conversation in the next room.

My chance. Xavier glanced into the other room but saw no one. Again, the water pitcher. No one’s looking. He wandered toward the table where it sat and reached.

“Good, Good, Good.”

The familiar phrase startled Xavier, causing him to retreat. Damn!

“Thanks for findin’ my little buddy, Tommy. Take a break.” Haverty’s shoulders grazed both sides of the doorframe as he entered—his handkerchief already dabbing away. Unable to take another drop, it simply evened the sweat across his pores. Haverty squeezed behind the desk across from Xavier, preparing to take his seat. “No panels, son? No Simon? What in the world were y’all doin’ out there?”

“Can I get some water?”

“You can wait fer a bit. See how cooperative you wanna be.” Haverty leaned forward on the desk with both hands. “Well?”

Haverty loomed above Xavier as a cobra about to devour a mouse. His breath leaked from his mouth like a toxic gas. The cigar was missing, but his mouth smelled as if it was buried inside—dying.

“Don’t you dare do that. Don’t clam up. Where’s my guy? Y’all leave him under a bridge?”

“Is that what Grant said?”

“Now, son, I’m askin’ you. You, right there, these questions. Don’t do it again. Just needin’ ya to give up the truth. That’s all I want.”

It was obvious he had spoken to Grant, exactly as Xavier had imagined. Just keep it simple.

“It was fast. Honestly, I didn’t see much. We got ambushed. I didn’t see who or how many. I grabbed what I could and ran. I was scared.”

“And, Grant?”

Xavier shifted in his seat. He caught a glimpse of his boots (Simon’s boots) and slid them under the front of the desk as best he could. Overlooked by Xavier, this could be problematic. Although he couldn’t imagine that Haverty kept track of everyone’s footwear, it was still a good idea to hide them.

“Son?”

“I heard the shots, ducked, and ran. I didn’t see much beyond that.”

“What’d you grab up. Said you grabbed up what ya could.” Haverty leaned back off his hands a bit. It seemed he hadn’t blinked the entire time. His eyes completely fixated on Xavier, measuring him and every response. “What was it?”

“My bag and Simon’s binoculars.”

“How many shots?”

“Shots?”

Haverty’s eyes widened.

“It happened really fast.” Xavier took his eyes to the ceiling, acting as if he really needed to think about it. “I really don’t know.”

“Try.”

“I mean…” Xavier took a long breath while shaking his head. “Several. It wasn’t rapid fire. Just several shots.”

“How close were ya to Simon when he got shot?”

Xavier closed his eyes. Right there. I could have touched him. I did touch him. I killed him. His name was Teddy! I was right there. Never again. Xavier opened his eyes and looked into Haverty’s. “Not very close. I was in a tru—”

“How many feet?” Haverty moved in closer.

“I really don’t know.” Xavier’s forehead fell, now cradled in his hands—his elbows on the edge of the desk. “I just don’t really know.”

“Son, I’m really needin’ ya to try.”

“I can’t give you that answer.” Xavier looked to Haverty. “I was leaning in a truck when the shots came out. By the time I got out, Simon was down. I’m not sure if he had a chance to run or if the first shot got him. I really don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry fer what?” Haverty moved even closer. Their noses almost touching. The stench of his breath caused Xavier to recoil back into the chair.

“Sorry that I don’t have the answers you want.”

“Only the truth. That’s all I’m lookin’ for.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t think ya do. How’d ya get Simon’s binoculars?”

“I picked them up as I ran by.”

“You check on him?”

“No… I knew—I knew he was dead.” Xavier tried his hardest to look sympathetic, scrunching his eyebrows and biting slightly into his bottom lip all while angling his head toward the floor.

“How?”

“He had a hole in his head!” He began to rub his eyes, still facing the floor.

Haverty sat down in his seat and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He smiled to himself. One foot made it to the top of the desk, but the second didn’t. The seat creaked something fierce as it leaned. Haverty corrected it without hesitating, dropping all six feet even with the ground.

“Son, ya know this ain’t that big a deal, right? You ain’t gotta cover for no one.”

“It is a big deal though.”

“I’m glad ya think so, shows ya have heart, but this ain’t about that.”

“I can’t do this.” Xavier was sweating. “Can I get some water? I haven’t had any since last night.”

“Just a few more, and we’ll be done here.”

Xavier sighed, shifted again in his seat, eyeing the maps and documents around the room. Haverty snapped his fingers.

“So, you’re bein’ attacked?”

“Right.”

“You’re runnin’? Past Simon?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got guns. You know he’s got guns, and ya grab up some binoculars? Why?”

“Yeah—Yes.” Xavier blinked hard while trying to think. “I saw it laying on the ground next to him. It’s a pretty big pouch. I was thinking maybe a gun was in it. That’s why.”

“A gun in a pouch?”

“Yes.”

“How old are ya?”

“Fifteen.”

“How many guns you seen in a pouch?”

“I don’t know. None? I panicked.” A deep breath. “You ever been shot at?”

Haverty’s belly began to shake, building up pressure like a volcano and erupted with laughter. Gasping for air between snorts and outbursts, he turned red. He started coughing. “Good, Good, Good.” Still coughing. “That’s rich. Yeah, I’ve been shot at.” He cleared his throat one last time and went right back into it. “Where’s your bag?”

“I only had this change of clothes and my toothbrush. I left it at the house I stayed in last night. It’s less to carry. Less to think about.”

“Where was that?”

“Price Hill.”

“That’s a big neighborhood, son. Where?”

“On Grand, but I don’t know the address. The houses all kind of look the same.”

Haverty wiped along his bottom lip, down from the corners of his mouth. He smiled and rocked forward in his chair. He removed his hat and placed it on the desk. The saturated handkerchief spread the beads of sweat across his forehead. He placed the hat back upon his head and crossed his arms, shaking his head at Xavier.