The Old Reactor (11 page)

“Sorry, girl, if you’re not here for Coward’s Days, you can’t have the special. You can get something else if you want.”

“That’s pretty stupid. Give me the kerd then.”

“We’re out of kerd.”

“Okay, the mud fish and green soda. This is all pretty stupid.”

“Mud fish and soda. That we got. You, sir?”

Udo wanted only a cup of tea and a bowl of meal.

Moldenke ordered the same, telling the waitress, “I don’t digest things very well. Angry bowel.”

“Well, sir. There’s a privy out back in case.”

The waitress returned to the kitchen.

It seemed that the act of mentioning his bowel triggered a strong contraction in Moldenke’s gut. “I’m going out back.” He slid from the booth and headed for the door. A few strides in that direction and he stepped into a hole in the floor, scraping his shin on the splintered wood. Salmonella helped him out of the hole.

“You okay?”

Some of the Coward’s Days enthusiasts laughed.

The waitress came to help. “Sorry, it’s a rotten spot that fell through.”

The fry cook rushed out of the kitchen wearing a homemade cloth veil. “What’s going on here? Is there trouble?”

Moldenke was almost in tears. “Why don’t you put up a
sign
?”

The fry cook raised his fist and took an angry step forward, but the waitress blocked his way. She massaged his shoulder and neck to calm him then said to Moldenke, “We’re sorry. It would be nice to have a sign. That spot’s been fixed but it just rots again.”

The fry cook, becalmed now, said, “You’re lucky, fella. When we opened this morning, some old jelly broke her leg in that hole. I heard it snap like a twig.”

The crowd twittered and giggled.

Moldenke raised his trouser leg to examine the cut on his ankle. It was more of a gouge than a clean cut, and the bleeding was slight. He continued on to the privy out back and discovered three privies instead: one for males, one for females, and one for jellyheads. He went first into the privy for males, found the commode ringed with drying feces, then tried the female privy. When he opened the door, there sat the waitress, squinting to read the
Treatise
in dim light. She wasn’t startled or offended and said, “Angry bladder.”

“Please excuse me. I didn’t know anyone was in here. You were just inside a moment ago.”

“Don’t worry, it happens all the time. That’s my sister. We look alike. Not twins, but we look alike.”

“Oh.”

“I work in the kitchen if I’m not out here taking care of business.”

“Well, again, my apologies.”

“Use the one for jellyheads. It’s the best.”

“All right, thanks.”

Moldenke found the jellyhead privy in a clean condition, with only a slight odor and no sign of the
Treatise
. There was a bucket of water on the ground and a selection of old socks for wiping hanging from nails in the wall.

In that setting, relaxed, Moldenke had a strong and productive bowel movement before wiping with a sock that he rinsed it in the sink and hung on a nail. He limped back to the booth, passing close to the kitchen, where he saw the fry cook drop an unlit kitchen match into deep fat. After floating a moment, the match burst into flame. “She’s ready to fry stuff,” he said.

Moldenke said to Udo, “If you have to take a leak or anything, use the jellyhead privy. It’s the best one out there.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

Moldenke’s ankle throbbed. “Why couldn’t they fix that hole? If there was law here, I’d sue them for all they’re worth. You just get some wood and you fix the hole.”

“No carpenters,” Udo said. “And hardly any wood. If you want to fix the floor, you have to rip wood from some other part of the building. That’s the way it is here.”

“I didn’t see that in the brochures.”

“Pure freedom means no money, no law, nothing. Think about it.”

“We pay nothing for our rooms,” Moldenke said, lighting a Julep, “or the food. We’ve got streetcars and pass cards. Good bear claws in the Old Quarter. Passable sausages at Smiley’s Meats, too. It’s not so bad. I’m getting used to it.”

The waitress set the food on the table. “There’s your orders.”

Salmonella asked, “Why is that stupid cook wearing a veil. Is he deformed?”

The waitress whispered, “Yeah, but not from deformant. A jellyhead mother threw her baby through that kitchen window over there. It landed in the fryer and splashed him with hot oil, mostly in the face. People don’t like looking at him while they’re eating.”

Salmonella asked, “Did the little jelly get fried?”

“It did, black as a cinder.”

The fry cook called out, “Order up!”

“Why do they kill their babies?” Salmonella asked.

Moldenke shrugged. “Why do they cut off heads and leave them at Saposcat’s?”

“Zanzetti’ll figure it out,” Udo said. “It’s got something to do with their gel sacks.”

The food was served by the woman Moldenke had seen in the privy. “Hi, there,” she said to him. “I saw you outside. It’s my sister’s turn now. She’s got a bad stomach.”

Moldenke blushed. “I apologize again for barging in on you.”

“It’s nothing. Here, enjoy your food.”

Salmonella picked up a mud fish whole and bit into it above the fin, the crispiest part, and complained it was cold.

Udo said, “Eat it anyway. There’s a storm coming. We’re not staying any longer than we have to.”

Moldenke ate his meal rapidly and drank his tea with a single lift of the cup, then waved his pass card. “This one’s on me. Thanks for the ride.”

The waitress brought the bill and checked pass cards. “Where you three headed?”

“The west side.”

“Big change in the weather. Snowstorm coming, you know? Drive careful.”

Despite the sudden drop in temperature and the threeinch accumulation of snow on the ground, Altobello’s outskirts, mostly scrublands, were thronged with jellyheads celebrating Cowards’ Days. Some had even spilled out onto the byway, causing a hazard for passing motors. Most drivers made an effort to avoid hitting them, uncontrollably sliding this way and that in the process. Other drivers made no such effort and ran them over, leaving the snow gooey with gel and blood.

Salmonella shouted, “Look, they’re making snow angels. Don’t run over them! Let them have their fun.”

Moldenke maneuvered the motor around them.

“I don’t know what they’re celebrating, or why they call it Cowards’ Days,” Udo said. “In jellyhead history, is there some kind of famous coward?”

Moldenke said, “Who knows? Maybe cowards were honored for ending a war by giving up. Did the jellyheads ever have a war? I can’t remember.”

“They’re awful aggressive with deformant,” Udo said.

Moldenke burped several times then angled into a little pullout with a picnic table and a privy for public use. “My bowel, we’ll have to stop.”

There was another motor there, balanced precariously with a flimsy axle jack straining under the load. One of the side tires had been removed and lay flat on the ground.

Salmonella frowned. “Hurry up. I don’t like this place.”

Udo said, “I count six jellies sitting in that motor. One of them has a baby and it’s crying. Can’t you hear it? Why aren’t they changing the tire?”

“Pull out,” Salmonella shouted. “Drive right through. Get back on the highway. This looks bad. We shouldn’t stop.”

Udo said, “Shut up!”

“Don’t blame me if there’s trouble,” Salmonella said. “Those are bad jellies.”

“They look decent enough to me,” Moldenke said. “Like a family.” He walked to the privy without incident, stopping to scoop a handful of snow for wiping. He knew there would be no paper. The jellies watched him enter and waited quietly until he came out.

Udo checked to see that his niner was loaded. If one of them made a move toward Moldenke or a threatening gesture, he would aim to kill. He had an eye on the privy and the jellies too. Salmonella sat at one of the windows watching. When the privy door opened and Moldenke stepped out, one of the jellies leaped from the back door of the crowded motor with a baby. “Please change that tire. We don’t know how.”

Udo snarled and shouted out the window, “They’re trying to trick you. Don’t look them in the eye.”

Moldenke said, “No, I think they really need help. I’ll change the tire.”

“You’re stupid, Moldenke,” Salmonella said.

Moldenke set about changing the tire in the biting cold, his fingers quickly numbed. The jelly with the half-frozen baby stood over him, cradling it. “Hurry up, you. My baby’s cold and I’ve got sack rot. I’ll be dead in a week.”

Moldenke was aggravated by her tone and no longer sympathetic. “Take the baby inside the motor. I’m sorry about the rot, but don’t stand out here watching me.”

“My husband’s got bad sacks too.”

“I’m doubly sorry then. I’ll change the tire. Don’t watch me.”

The jellyhead mother didn’t seem to understand what Moldenke was saying, as if he were speaking a foreign language. The baby licked the drips from one of her valves. The sight and the smell of it disgusted Moldenke.

The mother backed away, not far, and watched from a different vantage.

When the tire was mounted, Moldenke jacked down the vehicle, tightened the lug nuts, tapped the hubcap on, and put the tire tool, the jack, and the flat tire in the rear storage trunk.

“There you go. Glad to help out jellies in trouble. Too bad about the sack rot. It’s a sad thing, I guess.”

Moldenke climbed back into the motor. Udo, sitting in the driver’s seat, said, “I feel better. I’ll drive,” then stepped on the accelerator. As the machine rolled forward slowly, the jellyhead mother threw her baby under the rear wheels. The bump, then the crush of bones, could be heard and felt inside the motor.

Moldenke stood and looked back. “Should we stop?” He put his head out of a side window to get a better look at what had happened.

Two male jellies ran behind with cans of deformant.

Udo opened a red-handled petcock on the dash, juicing up the flow of heavy water and the motor rolled faster, but only until it reached a small grade leading back to the Byway, where it stalled long enough for several of the deformantwielding jellies to catch up.

Udo reached over to pull Moldenke in. “Get back in here!” It was moments too late. One of the jellies had already squirted him on the side of the head. His ear foamed and burned like fire. The hand he had put up to deflect the spray was burned and blistering.

“I
told
you, stupid,” Salmonella said.

“I’m learning to listen, girl. I’m learning to listen.”

Udo drove the motor along Arden in a drizzle. The snow had stopped, the air had warmed, and gutters were running with dirty slush. Salmonella, for reasons unknown, thought about her mother. She grew restless and asked Udo, “Where is my mother?”

“Stop playing that old tune, girl. I’m blue in the face from telling you your mother went back to Bunkerville.”

By this time Moldenke had become convinced that Salmonella, as a freeborn, had no capacity for familial feelings and he was surprised to see her showing such curiosity about her mother.

“I want to know how old I am,” Salmonella said.

“A mother would probably know,” Moldenke said.

Udo’s pale face pinked. “I’ve told you a hundred times, you’re about sixteen or seventeen.”

“Fifteen, maybe? Or eighteen?”

“It’s possible. I don’t remember.” Udo fingered his niner. “She needs to go back to the Home. Let’s take her to the Home.”

Moldenke wondered if the Home was open all night.

“Please don’t take me there again.” Salmonella pretended to snuffle.

Moldenke looked away. It was not his business.

“It’s a good place,” Udo said, “better than out here where freedom stinks. In there, it’s educational. You’re going in. It will be better for you. Listen to your daddy.”

Moldenke agreed, “Maybe he’s right. The Home would be the best place for you now.”

Udo brightened with an idea. “Do me a favor, Moldenke. Put her up in your room for the night and take her to the Home tomorrow. So we don’t kill one another.”

Tired as he was, with his ear throbbing and hot to the touch, Moldenke took the offer. He had had enough squabbling for the day and needed rest.

Salmonella said, “Moldenke, there’s something coming out of your ear.” A waxy brown liquid had begun to run from the canal and the rest of the ear showed small white-tipped pustules. “I’ll stay with you. You need help.”

“Your call, Moldenke,” Udo said.

Moldenke thought Salmonella’s company for the night could prove to be an asset. She would distract him from his deformity, if nothing else. Aerosol deformant’s effects were unpredictable. Even a small amount could lead to significant changes in facial structure, with blistering, seeping, and intermittent bleeding.

“All right,” Moldenke said. “I get the cot, you get the chair.”

Salmonella squared her shoulders. “I’ll be your nurse. You do what I say. You’ll get better.”