Cold Snap (57 page)

"Got any theories?" Lawson half-smirked. "You
think I'm fully capable of confronting all my fears? Am I a big
boy, now?"

"Or you are so terrified that following me up
here was your only option?"

"You sound like all the shrinks they lined up
for me and their paychecks back at the VA. Let's say I'm a
functional fear addict. Most people are. And don't hand me any crap
about identifying one's fears and eliminating them one by one. If
that worked, you might as well go ahead and get a lobotomy, save
the time and effort." He chuckled harshly as he again lifted the
bottle. "I lost a few centimeters of brain surface back in the
Sandbox. Maybe I'm cured and don't even know it."

"Your self-awareness is a lesson to
everyone," Ari nodded.

Lawson finished his gulp and handed the
bottle back to Ari. He fished out his pack of cigarettes. "No one
appreciates anyone else's self-awareness. From the outside, we all
still look like idiots. Unless you're Brad Pitt, of course."

"People are under the misconception that I'm
an Arab," Ari said. "I can't imagine why."

"It's all surface. And by the way, if you
really believe that, you're an idiot. Are you misconstruing me on
purpose?"

"Like you, I see things in fragments. There
is no grand design to comprehend and...misconstrue? Interesting
word."

"That sort of leaves God out of the
picture."

"If there is a god shuffling behind the
scenes, he is hiding his head in shame."

"Over half my male relatives are preachers,"
Lawson laughed. "If they knew I was listening to someone like you
they'd condemn me to eternal hellfire."

"Just for listening?"

"Just for listening. You see, we American's
haven't got anything on the mullahs." Lawson shrugged. "And if they
knew what I was thinking personally, on my own, without listening
to anyone..."

"And what do you think?"

"We're protoplasm, we're DNA, we're creatures
that think we're thinking. I know whereof I speak. I've seen plenty
of my own protoplasm splattered around. Would the world be a better
place if we all faced up to the facts? I couldn't tell you. I just
don't know." He paused, squinting against a flash of sunlight
reflecting off the river below. "You know the theory of relativity?
Energy and mass and so forth?"

"I believe I've heard of it," said Ari.

"But have you thought about it? If you stuck
enough energy into us, we'd turn into light. We'd return to our
beginning. But when light goes bad, it curdles. That's all we are.
Bad light."

Stretching out, Ari leaned on his elbow.

"What's that?" Lawson said in alarm.

"What?"

"On your ankle."

"Oh...a frivolous bit of jewelry. I believe
you call them slave bracelets. We Italians are a frivolous people,
addicted to adornment."

"That's an ankle monitor."

"How did that get there?" Ari cried, as
though he had discovered a leech sucking his blood.

"How long have you been wearing it?" Lawson
asked brusquely. "Since before I met you?"

"Only a few days," said Ari contritely.

"And that pair of goofballs who have been
following us across town…?"

"Goofballs?"

"In the Civic, parked on the overlook behind
that crypt. Are they part of this?"

No doubt Karen and Fred, watching from the
warmth of the car, must wonder beyond wonder what the hell Ari was
up to. Karen would get in his face and demand an explanation. He
was already concocting some suitable blather about Lawson being a
former member of military intelligence. Of course none of this came
up when they looked into Lawson's file. It was top secret! Ari
comforted himself with the outrage this would stir in Karen's
psyche.

"I assumed they were a loving couple," said
Ari.

"I spotted you for a born liar the first
instant I laid eyes on you," Lawson scoffed.

"I am dismayed you have such a low opinion of
me."

"Just the opposite. Some of my best former
friends were chronic liars. My former wife, for one." He squinted
at the Civic. "Those are cops."

"They are interested parties."

"And why are they interested in you?"

"Because I'm so interesting."

"Fuck you. Give me the bottle." He took a
drink. "Are they dangerous?"

"Those two?" Ari chuckled.

"I mean, can I lose my license by associating
with you? Even protoplasm has to make a living."

"I don't think they'll bother you," said Ari.
"The electronic chain is limited to my own person."

"Making yourself out to be slave," Lawson
sneered. "That's bogus."

"You still haven't done what I asked you up
here for," Ari said, cocking his head at Jefferson Davis.

"I looked at him. So what? He's even smaller
from here. Is that the point of all this exercise?"

"Give it a few more moments."

"Give what a few moments?"

"There's a certain chemistry in the odd
angle, the objective view."

"You're right. I'm warmer. It's a
miracle."

"It's Jack Daniels."

"Right..."

"Mr. Davis had many ailments that he had to
fight through," said Ari with a day's worth of erudition.

"He committed crimes against humanity," was
Lawson's assessment.

"What nation hasn't?"

"In the scheme of things, America isn't so
bad. And don't throw the Indians in my face. That was a long time
ago."

"As was slavery."

"Don't cross swords with me on this one,"
Lawson scowled. "Chapter and verse on slavery runs a few million
pages, and the bottle will run out long before I could finish."

"I was thinking of more recent actions," Ari
observed. "Europeans are well apprised of this nation's
crimes."

"Like Italy hasn't committed any?"

"We murdered Christ," Ari shrugged.

"You're a real gem." He stared down at
Confederate Circle as he drank slowly. After musing a long moment,
he said, "Is this magical thing you expect me to see impossible to
put into words?"

"If I could have put it into words, I would
not have wasted your time bringing you here," said Ari.

"Well...either I've already had too much to
drink, which I find hard to believe..."

"Yes?"

"I think I...feel...I don't know what the
hell I feel."

"It's a puzzling sensation," Ari said. "Those
who travel with open minds often feel it."

"Your friends are leaving."

Karen drove her car slowly around the circle
below them, making a show of her presence and of her voluntary
departure. Ari interpreted it as a sign of good will, although she
might simply have been trying to get on his nerves. Fred had warned
him in advance that they might tail him.

"We want to make sure the damn thing works
once you get out of the car and walk around."

The 'damn thing' being the ankle bracelet,
since there was already a GPS in the xB.

"It's a disassociation from reality," said
Lawson abruptly.

"What is?"

"This little trick of yours. It's like being
an actor in a movie, then stepping off the screen and looking back
without all the clutter of a storyline."

"It can have that effect," Ari nodded. "It
can turn you into wallpaper at a party."

"You probably mean 'wallflower'. I don't
attend many parties, anymore. You know, Ari, we might consider
moving on before hypothermia sets in." Lawson gave his leg a shake.
"Might be too late, already. This cold snap has gone way beyond the
'snap' phase. I'm beginning to think it's permanent."

Ari absorbed this in the metaphysical sense
and shuddered. "Those young people who tried to kill you…they
weren't evil."

"Right, someone held a gun to their head,"
Lawson grunted.

"And threatened their families, too. In fact,
they got into trouble because they were trying to do the right
thing. Morally, they were impeccable."

"The yellow brick road to hell," said
Lawson.

"I don't know that road," said Ari.

"So you're saying the best thing for everyone
is to do nothing?"

"I didn't say that…" said Ari, thinking:
Bill. Who are you? Where are you? What are you up to, now, and
why?

A small pickup truck came up Lee Avenue,
stopped momentarily next to the xB, then moved into Confederate
Circle. It made the circuit of the venerable Rebel graves, chugging
in low gear, the driver leaning over the wheel and peering out.
Finishing the circle, he came back for another turn.

"One of those boys who never got over
Appomattox," Lawson commented mirthlessly. "'We was robbed!'"

Ari lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke and
condensed vapor. He felt like someone who had been robbed in broad
daylight. He wondered if he was experiencing the first tinge of
frostbite.

"What is your cat's name?" he asked
Lawson.

"'Luckless'. Freddie found him in the
alley."

"Why 'Luckless'? He was lucky enough to find
a warm home."

"A home with me."

The truck stopped at the base of the hill.
The driver was craning his head up at them. He got out and stared
at the two men.

"What's in that bottle there?" he
shouted.

"Jack Daniels," Ari called down. "We plan to
bury him. Do you want to join us for a convivial repast?"

Wait, he thought. Could you have a repast
without food?

"You can't drink here," the man protested,
jamming his hands into the pockets of his light jacket. He
obviously did not anticipate spending much time in the cold.

"And who are you, my friend?" Ari asked,
though he recognized him as the man he had spoken to at the main
gate several weeks earlier.

"I'm the assistant groundskeeper." He was
studying Lawson. Even from the equivalent of three stories, the
damage to the man was all-too apparent. "You a vet?"

"I guess it shows," Lawson said grumpily.

"You oughtta know better, then. Even if you
didn't agree with all this feller stood for..." He nodded at Jeff
Davis. "I can see why you might not care much for him, but there's
other folks six feet under here and you should have respect for
them. You best move on."

"Fucking cracker," Lawson muttered lowly.
"Bet his granddpappy shot prisoners at Fort Pillow."

"This would be your Civil War?" Ari
inquired.

"Sons of bitches shot any former slaves they
caught."

"Iraq also had slaves," Ari informed him.

"Not like here."

"Allow me one day to tell you about the Zanj
Rebellion," said Ari.

"Zanj?"

"Slaves brought over from Africa to the land
now called Iraq. A half million rose up. They were suppressed quite
brutally."

"I didn't know," said Lawson. "Great reader I
am. This the kind of thing they teach in Italian schools?"

They had been speaking lowly. The guard could
not understand what they were saying.

"You two want to stop jawing up there and
come on down?"

"We're coming," said Lawson.

"Indeed," said Ari.

Beyond smoking and drinking, neither of them
moved.

"You'll catch your death up there!"

Ari's brow lifted. "Is he threatening to
shoot us?"

"No, he thinks we'll get pneumonia."

"Ah. I always thought death caught us, not
the other way around."

"Good point."

The guard was peering at Lawson as closely as
he could without climbing the hill. "You were in Iraq?"

"Biggest tattoo parlor in the world." Lawson
lifted his scarf. The guard had only noted his missing limbs, the
glass eye being too far away to perceive. Now he saw the shattered
jaw.

"Oh," said the guard, his mouth momentarily
agape. He only had a couple of teeth in place. "That's a horrible
shame."

"Tell me."

"I got a nephew almost kilt in Afghanistan,
but he's almost all right, now."

"Give him my regards."

"I'll do that." The guard fidgeted, at odds
and loose ends. He couldn't leave them as they were, but he also
showed no desire to evict them. "So what's the idea, you two
sitting up there?"

"We're trying to see the universe as it
really is," said Lawson. He cast his eye at Ari. "Right?"

"Good enough," Ari shrugged.

After staring at them a long moment, the
guard said, "Any luck?"

Startled by the question, the two hesitated
before answering.

"Not really," they said in unplanned unison.
They traded grins.

"That's too bad," said the guard. "I wouldn't
mind a few answers. You been over to the Pyramid, yet?"

Lawson shook his head, while Ari merely
looked puzzled.

"Lot of young men buried over there. Would
like to know why." He took a deep breath through his chattering
teeth. "All right, now, you two stop that smoking and drinking and
move on."

"We should move on," said Ari, with hardly a
trace of warmth left inside his coat.

"It's harder than you think," said Lawson,
looking away.

"Well?" said the guard.

No one moved.