A few minutes later Ike heard him snoring. Ike laid his head back on the sofa but he didn’t close his eyes. He knew if he slept, Isiah would be waiting for him in his dreams.
Or his nightmares.
FORTY-THREE
Margo was just about to sit down and settle in for the Jeopardy! Tournament of Champions when someone started banging on her door.
“God bless it,” she murmured as she went to the door. When she opened it Buddy Lee was standing on her front step.
“Jesus, you look worse than the last time I saw you. Are you getting any sleep at all?” Margo asked.
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a way with words?” Buddy Lee said.
“It’s a gift. What’s up? You get a new truck? About time, if you ask me,” Margo said. Buddy Lee moved stray strands of hair out of his face. For an instant Margo thought she saw a glimpse of the bright-eyed handsome country boy he used to be once upon a time.
“No, that’s my partner’s truck. Hey, I wanted to tell you, you’re a good neighbor. You check on me and make sure I’m not turning into a pickle inside a bottle of Jameson. I think you’re probably the only person on earth who cares about what happens to me,” Buddy Lee said.
“Well, that’s nice of you, but why you talking like you about to lead the Charge of the Light Brigade?” Margo asked. Buddy Lee put his foot on her top step and leaned forward.
“I ain’t never had very many female friends. I’ve known a lot of women, but I can’t say many of them was what you’d call friends. I think you’re my first, Margo.” He stopped. She watched him set his jaw before he continued.
“You’re a good woman and a good friend. Take care of yourself,” Buddy Lee said.
“Buddy Lee, what’s going on?” Margo asked. He flashed a crooked grin.
“Giving you your flowers while you’re still alive, sugar,” he said. He stepped back and gave her a two-finger salute. She watched him lope over to his partner’s truck and climb in the passenger’s side. A cloud of dust followed them as they tore out of the trailer park.
* * *
“Come on, Gatsby. Last stop, everybody off,” Buddy Lee said. He helped Ike drag the old man out of the truck bed and into the bunkhouse. They tied him to a metal folding chair with another pair of zip ties. The chair was sitting next to a fifty-five-gallon metal drum. At the base of the drum was a box with some wires and a flat circular wheel inside.
“Alright, I’m gonna move the truck. Keep an eye on him,” Ike said.
“I’ll try not to kill him,” Buddy Lee said. Gatsby’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, calm down, I’m just fucking with you.” He turned back to Ike. “Remember, if you go past the other entrance, go down to the post office and turn around. Be quick. There’s not supposed to be another road back here. Chet used to complain about the county charging him more taxes the more egress points he had or something. We don’t want to draw no attention,” Buddy Lee said.
“Long as that other gate ain’t locked, we should be okay,” Ike said.
Ike moved the truck to the head of the other road, then made his way back to the compound through a footpath that took him pass a corrugated metal outhouse. The past few nights had been cool, as the last vestiges of winter refused to cede their kingdom to the spring. Tonight, the air was unseasonably sultry. By the time he made it back to the bunkhouse he was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.
Buddy Lee was sitting on the bench that ran along the back wall of the structure. He was holding an AR-15 with an extended mag. Ike grabbed an automatic shotgun out of the crate and loaded it with high-velocity shells. He sat down at the table that was situated near the center of the building. He checked his watch. It was 7:30 P.M.
“You think there’s anything after this? After we die, I mean?” Buddy Lee asked.
“You worrying about your soul, Buddy Lee?” Ike said. He was cradling the shotgun like a newborn.
Buddy Lee cleared his throat.
“I mean, if there is, I’m pretty sure where I’m headed. I’ve made peace with that, I reckon. I just wonder, I mean, do you think we’ll see the boys? Like, if we don’t make it out of this, you think we’ll pass them on our way down south?” Buddy Lee said. Ike peered out the window. The sun had set but a half-moon had clocked in for the night shift.
“I hope not,” Ike said.
“You hope not? Man, the only thing that keeps me holding on to any of that shit my pastor used to scream about while he was juggling them old copperheads they kept in the back of the church is the notion I might see my boy again. Get a chance to tell him all the things I should have before they took him from me,” Buddy Lee said.