Hari Kunzru - Gods Without Men

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Do not fear

Discontinue .

Jaz surveyed his new perimeter, the afternoon sun, the pale blue lining of the motel pool. A tactical retreat. He smeared more sunscreen on his face and lay down on the creaky plastic lounger, listening to the traffic on the highway, waiting for the sound of their rental car pulling into the front lot.

He slept for a while, woke up dry-mouthed. The shadows were long, distorted black streaks thrown across the paving, ghosts of chairs and sunshades. He went out and stood by the road, holding the boy’s hand. Raj was bored, twisting from side to side and making clicking sounds. They spent a while spotting trucks, the bigger the better. Raj liked trucks, though he covered his ears with his hands when they went by.

The manager came out of the office and stood watching them.

“You folks not been out today?”

She was wearing a striking outfit, shiny pants and some kind of tapestry vest woven with a wizardy pattern of stars and planets.

“Everything OK? Not sick or nothing, is he?”

“Just waiting for my wife. She went to run some errands. She’ll be back soon.”

The manager pursed her lips around a skinny menthol cigarette, exhaled skeptically. “Sure, honey. You just yell if you need anything. If you’re hungry, there’s take-out menus in the rec room. Pizza place delivers.”

He dialed Lisa’s cell. If she was off sulking somewhere it was time for her to stop. The phone went straight to voicemail. Ten minutes later he called again. The light softened to a pinkish gold, tumbling over the pool like gauze. He and Raj played an interminable game: Raj fetched pebbles, placed them in an arc by his seat. Jaz moved them to the other side. Raj moved them back. There was a system. Order. Cooperation. Every so often, he hit redial.

Voicemail.

And again.

With a click and a buzz, the motel lighting came on. The red glow of the sign leaped up. The string of Christmas lights tacked to the eaves burst out in a sudden scatter of multicolored points. What if she’d been in an accident? She was upset, she could have crashed the car.

As if summoned by the setting sun, the English guy emerged from his room, drowsily scratching his ass. Raj dropped his pebbles and ran straight toward him, skirting the pool in a busy arm-flapping run. He careered into his knees like a football player going in for a tackle. The English guy looked embarrassed.

“Well, hello there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve never seen him do that before. Raj, come here. Come to Daddy.”

“He’s alright. You got the time, by the way? My phone’s out of batteries.”

“It’s ten after eight.”

“Fuck, I missed the whole day.”

He cracked a kind of smile, more of a leer, revealing a missing tooth. His accent was alarming, like something out of Oliver . Jaz was surprised. Raj never wanted anything to do with strangers. He only touched his parents under sufferance. Now he was suddenly cuddling up to some sort of scabrous cockney vampire. “He doesn’t usually do this,” Jaz said again.

The vampire looked confused. Jaz felt he ought to explain. “He’s kind of autistic. He doesn’t find it so easy to deal with people.”

“I see.”

“I’m Jaz Matharu, by the way.”

“Nicky.”

“And that’s Raj.”

“Awright, Raj? Come on, you can look at me, can’t you? Don’t be shy.”

Raj kept his face buried in Nicky’s crotch. Nicky frowned. “So he’s like, locked away.”

“Yeah. You could say.”

“I’m sorry, man. That’s bad times.”

Jaz shrugged. “Bad times sounds about right.”

“Well, I’m just off down the Maccy-Dees.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, get something to eat. A burger.”

“Oh, right. Good talking to you. Say, is that your Camaro parked out front, with the rims and the pearl finish?”

“Yeah. Goes like the clappers.”

“Nice ride.”

“Thanks. It’s just a rented car.”

“A rental? Wow. I’m driving some piece-of-shit Dodge. Or at least I was, until my wife — well, she took off this morning. Family emergency.”

“You been stuck here?”

“Yeah. Raj is getting kind of cranky.”

“Probably wants his tea. So you angling for a lift?”

“Sorry?”

“A lift. A ride. We could pick something up in town for the lad. Be no bother.”

“God, I didn’t mean to — that’d be so kind. Are you sure? Hear that, Raj? The kind man’s going to take us to get food.”

“I’ll have to go find my keys.”

The night manager, a mournful Latino with heavily tattooed arms, took Jaz’s cell number and promised to call if Lisa turned up. They sank into the Camaro’s bucket seats, which were coated with a thin layer of dust and grit, as if the top had been left down in a sandstorm. Raj reluctantly disentangled himself from the gaunt young man and sat in Jaz’s lap. As they gunned down the hill into town, the sunset’s brief orange blaze subsided to a faint residual glow. The engine’s throaty roar and the wind passing the open windows were enough to kill conversation. Raj was sitting with his hands firmly clamped over his ears, his mouth fixed in a stern frown, like a soldier heading off to war. Something hard rolled against Jaz’s shoe. He looked down to see an empty tequila bottle in the foot well.

As they hit the strip, he thought he spotted their rental, but there were any number of white Dodge Chargers in the world, and this one was parked outside a grim-looking bar, not Lisa’s kind of spot. Farther down, in a lot between a Chinese massage place and a market, they found a Burger King. Nicky pulled in and peered suspiciously into the brightly lit restaurant.

“Last night this gaff was crawling with nutters. You know they’ve got a big Army base here.”

“Marines, actually.”

“Like Call of Duty . Anyway, looks quiet enough tonight. Want to eat in?”

“Sure, we can try. Sometimes Raj doesn’t get on too well in places like this.”

Raj refused his hand and attached himself to Nicky. He seemed completely content, placidly eating his fries like any other kid. One night only, screw the special diet. While Lisa wasn’t around to oversee.

“So,” he asked Nicky. “What do you do?”

“I’m a rock ’n’ roll musician.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your, uh, instrument?”

“I play guitar, sing.”

“That’s so cool. And you make a living?”

Nicky smiled. “I do OK.”

“I’m in finance.”

“That a fact? Merchant banker?”

“Well, kind of. I devise trading strategies.”

“Bet you’re loaded, you merchant banker.”

They both laughed, though Jaz wasn’t sure if it was about the same thing. Nicky had the type of hipster cool that always made him feel like he was failing an exam. It was soothing to find out he was a musician. It was somehow easier to think of the weird hair and clothes as a sort of uniform.

Raj yawned and flapped his hands.

“He OK?” asked Nicky.