Claude?â my mom use to say.â His lips were smiling against the concrete, but unshed tears were dissolving his heart. He saw the russet and cream muzzle nuzzling the earth, heard his dadâs shovel grating ⦠his mom was gone then.⦠Heâd really loved that fucking Shit, goddamn him, why did the fucking dogs have to get him? It seemed like everything you loved passed like that, and he would eat dirt too someday.â¦
The black nugget went away again. Chunky listened to him tossing his grits for a long time. At last, heavy breathing rasped above him, and then a loose-lipped mumble. âWhat?â he muttered.
âQuit playinâ speedbump, Chunky. We got to get back to the ship.â
âJusâ cool it, Buckwheat.â
âWhatâd you say?â
âHuh?â
âWhatâd you call me, Schweinberg?â
âBucky. Thass your name, ainât it?â
âI thought I heard somethinâ else.â Hayes stared at him, then reached down. âCome on. â
Dragging the senior lieutenant down the empty median, Buck Hayes felt mingled fear and hilarity. It hadnât seemed funny while he was spraying cookies, but now it was so horrible he wanted to laugh. Then he thought, If somebody comes out of these alleys, it ainât going to be funny at all. He couldnât fight, and he couldnât abandon Schweinberg, either.
âHey, thereâs a car.â
âItâs not a taxi, though.â
âI donât care what it is, flag it.â
âMaybe itâs cops.â
âDo they got cops here? I ainât seen any yet. I hope it is a cop.â
âDonât say that.â Hayes shivered, remembering the old manâs stump. He didnât even want to know the penalty for public drunkenness in Bahrain.
The lights drew closer. The pilots separated, each taking a lane. When the car stopped, Schweinberg, fumbling at his wallet, weaved around to the driverâs side.
There were two tiny people in the Honda, a middle-aged couple. There were suitcases in the back seat. They looked pleased at being stopped in the middle of the night. They smiled up as Schweinberg breathed his predicament into their faces. When he was done, the woman said something to her husband. Then they all four just smiled at one another. âJeez, sheâs pretty,â said Chunky. âWhat are they, Japanese? Andrea, forgive me, Iâm in love.â
Hayes said doubtfully, âDo you think they have the faintest idea who we are?â
âDo you understand me?â said Schweinberg to her, raising his voice. âAmerican military, need to get back to ship?â
The woman bobbed her head, and after a moment the man did, too.
âSee? They understand.â
âWill you give us a ride?â
âThere, sheâs nodding.â
âWhat a smile.â
âWhat nice teeth.â
âBut how we going to tell them where to go?â
âWe canât,â said Schweinberg. He opened the door and motioned her out. Laughing in low, nervous voices, the Japanese looked around the empty street. Then they bowed. Schweinberg bowed back, steadying himself on the hood. This seemed to reassure them, and they got in back with the suitcases.
âYou better let me drive.â
âNo, I got it.â Schweinberg seized the wheel with an expression of great concentration. He mashed the gas experimentally and the engine tried to chew its way out of the hood. There were whispers in back. Hayes beamed them his best shit-eater. âDonât worry, weâre U.S. Navy,â he said. âWe really appresh, appre, well, this is sure great of you. Wonât take us long, just down to Salman.â
âHey, Bucky.â
âYeah?â
âHow do we get back to the ship?â
âChrist! Claude, donât you know?â
âCourse I do. Lemme think. Lessee ⦠lesseeâ¦â He craned upward through
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