On Fire (5 page)

“It's Matti,” I said. “And we won't.”

Virgil went on like he hadn't heard me. “The government doesn't like people drowning without a license.”

“I'm a good swimmer,” I told him. I guess I was showing off for Dan. “I've been out on this lake all my life. I could probably swim across it if I had to.”

“Oh, yeah?” Virgil said. “How about your friend?” Dan shrugged. “I'd suggest we throw him into the lake and find out. But I've got my good clothes on. If I have to jump in and rescue him, I'll get them wet.”

He was wearing black jeans, a T-shirt and a vest, if that's what you call good. “Come on, Virgil,” I said. “Please.”

“Afraid not.” He began to walk up the path to town. “Don't take my boat, okay?” he called over his shoulder. “I'm just here to see if any of my girlfriends are back. I don't know how long I'm staying.”

“They aren't,” I called after him. Virgil stopped and turned around.

“It's a pretty long list. You sure you know them all?”

“Maybe not,” I said. He walked away again. This time he didn't come back.

12
S
TORIES

A
T SUPPER
M
RS
. ST
OA WANTED TO
know if I'd used her idea and given
that young man,
as she called him, a name. “He doesn't want a name.” I said. “He told me to call him X.”

“You can't do that,” she said. “He's a human being.”

For once we agreed on something. “I told him I'd call him Dan.”

“It's definitely his story.”

“I didn't pick it because of what you said. I . . . it just . . . came out.”

“Ah,” Mrs. Stoa said. She'd emptied out all the old stuff she'd found in the freezer and now she was serving a tuna casserole she'd made herself. She pushed the dish over toward me. I lifted some melted cheese off the top.

“Do you honestly think,” I asked her, “that a story from hundreds of years ago can pop up in somebody's life like a chipmunk out of a pile of rocks and take it over?”

“Don't pick at the topping,” she said. “Put some on your plate.”

I did. The peas in it were mushy, like they came out of a can, but otherwise it had no taste, which was an improvement.

“You're very literal, Matilda,” she said. “And you're missing the point.” When she smiled I could see a pea skin stuck in between her teeth.

“What is the point?” I asked her.

“These old stories don't take us over as you're suggesting.

But they are in the world. And sometimes we grab onto them.”

“Dan wasn't even thinking about your Dante story until I mentioned it to him,” I said.

“But he is thinking about it now. And so are you.”

While we were clearing off the dishes, I asked her, just casually so she wouldn't think I was at all interested, “How did Dante get through hell, if you'll pardon my French? If it was as bad as you said.”

“Oh, it was bad. The horrors were endless.”

“So? How did he survive all alone like that?”

“He wasn't alone,” Mrs. Stoa said. She fixed herself a glass of lemonade and dropped in a maraschino cherry. “He had the ghost of the poet Virgil with him as his guide for part of the way. And he had Beatrice, his soul mate. He was also met by . . . ”

“That's enough information,” I said. I stuck my fingers in my ears and hummed.

I didn't know anyone named Beatrice. I did know a girl named Bee. And we did have a kind of guide living in the area. He was so outdoorsy I doubted if he'd ever even been in a library, so he wasn't a poet. And he certainly wasn't dead. But his name was Virgil and I'd recently introduced him to Dan.

I remembered Dan telling me there was torture involved in Dante's book. “Endless horrors,” Mrs. Stoa'd said. I had no intention of latching on to a story like that. And I didn't want it latching on to me.

13
H
YPERVENTILATION

J
UST AS
I
WAS LEAVING ONE
morning to go down to the jail, Marsh pulled up in front of our house in his truck. He rolled down the window and called to me. “Could you get in, Matti?” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

We sat for a while and watched a family who had just come back to town unload their luggage. They let their yappy little dog out of the car and he ran around barking. Then he had a pee on the front lawn, which meant, I think, “Ah! Home at last.”

I needed to get on with my day though so I asked, “What did you want, Marsh?”

He took a big breath. Then he turned and smiled at me.

I had a theory about Marsh's smile. I think he was in love with somebody once. I don't know if they were married or had kids. But even when he was in the war his heart lit up like a hundred-watt bulb whenever he thought of her, which was most of the time.

Then he came home and something happened. She died, maybe or left.

After that, his heart pretty much went out. It's just that at certain times like when he smiles his body remembers how he used to feel. But it also remembers he doesn't feel that way any more. That's where the sadness comes from.

“Allard got a message from Frank last night,” Marsh said. “He's hoping to get home in the next few days.”

“Good,” I said, even though I knew there would be complications. “Did you explain to him about Dan?”

“Who?”

“That's what I call the person who's living in the town office.”

“Oh,” Marsh said, but he didn't look at me when he said it. “I told him.”

“And did you also tell him Dan's getting better every day and we're taking good care of him?”

“I did,” Marsh said.

“What did Frank think about that?”

“He thinks it's good you found him and he knows you're doing your absolute best.”

Just the way he picked his way through what he was saying — carefully, like he was walking barefoot over gravel, I knew there was a
but
coming. I said it for him. “But?”

Marsh began cracking his knuckles. “He also thinks it's time to take the boy down to Kingman.”

“No,” I said. “The police don't want him. Did you tell Frank that?”

“I did, Matti, but look,” Marsh said, although he wasn't looking at me. Just cracking his knuckles and staring straight ahead. “He's been here over a week and — ”

“It hasn't been that long.”

“It has. I told you when he came that we might not be able to keep him here.”

“Well, it isn't just Frank's decision to make, is it?” I opened the door of the truck. “Or yours. And anyway, Dan's starting to remember things. Like he remembers reading about a guy called Dante. I'm working with him and he'll remember other stuff. You just have to give me time.” I kept speeding up until I was gasping for breath.
Hyperventilation
, it's called.

“That's general knowledge, Matti,” Marsh said. He finally turned and looked at me. His face was all droopy and hang-dog. “It's nothing to do with him personally. Does he remember his name? Or where he lived?”

“Not yet. I don't think he wants to.”

“Matti.” Marsh pushed his hands toward his knees like he was holding something down. “I know this is hard, but you have to be reasonable.”

“No!” I shouted, and then I had a real meltdown. “I won't be.” I got out of the truck and slammed the door. “Frank thinks Dan's crazy, doesn't he? He wants to send him to the Mental Hospital in Metal Springs because you repeated the stuff Dan said about flying.

“But he doesn't talk about flying anymore. And he's not crazy!” I opened the door and slammed it shut again. “And I won't let either of you take him anywhere!”

I ran away from Marsh and kept going until I was on the path to the Blackstone Wilderness where I first met Dan. When the trail began to climb I slowed down and walked. When I was too out of breath to even do that anymore, I sat down behind a boulder and cried and ticced-off.

I wanted to be hidden in case Marsh came looking for me. He didn't. But when I finally calmed down again and got back to the trailhead, he was waiting there.

“Frank doesn't think the kid's crazy,” he said. “And I don't either. We don't use words like that. But Frank does think he needs help that we can't give him here, and I have to say I agree.”

I glared at Marsh and didn't answer back.

“And he won't necessarily go to the Metal Springs hospital. We'll try the General first. You can come with us to see where he's going to stay.”

Marsh took hold of my arm but I shook him off and began to walk away. “When are you going?” I asked. I needed to know that so I could make plans.

“Not today.” Marsh walked along beside me. “Frank won't be back that soon.” I slowed down then so I could pay attention to what he was saying. “Tomorrow if he gets here early enough. The next day for sure.”

Finally I stopped. “The day after tomorrow would be better,” I said. Marsh agreed. I think he was relieved because it looked like I was being sensible.

I wasn't. I'd heard Frank talking about what they did to people like Dan at Metal Springs. Someone he knew went there. They tied the guy down on a table and shot his brain full of electricity. In my book that's torture.

Marsh said if we found out Dan had been tortured we'd have to call the police. Now he and Frank were taking him some place where it could happen again. I was so angry I was beside myself. I think that's an expression I've heard.

Like there was me, Matti Iverly, glaring at Marsh. And another Matti was standing shoulder to shoulder with her. The second one was invisible. And she was howling bloody murder.

14
T
HE
E
ND OF THE
G
OLDEN
A
GE

A
LL
I
COULD THINK ABOUT AFTER
that was getting Dan away. And the only place far enough was Cato City across the lake. We might run into Virgil there, but he went his own way and didn't stick his nose in other people's business. Everyone else was gone.

There had to be some decent buildings in Cato City. Bee lived there. Her house would be empty for a while, if I could find it.

Or I'd take our tent. Frank wouldn't even notice it was missing. I could get some food over there, too, if I just found a way to move everything.

I went down to the big marina to see if any decent boats were back. All I found was a leaky rowboat. I could try getting supplies across in it. I'd have to bail like crazy but I'd manage.

Then I'd need to get Dan across. I was pretty sure I could find a life jacket for him somewhere. I'd break into a couple of houses if I had to.

By the time I got to the jail, the sun was pretty high in the sky. Dan was outside on the bench, yawning. His eyes looked red and watery.

“Sorry I'm late,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I didn't sleep much.”

“Sorry,” I said again. “Did you have anything to eat?”

“Marsh came by.”

“Oh? Did he say anything?”

“‘Hi. Good bye.' In between he said ‘How are you.'” Dan's voice was all on one level when he talked. Monotone.

“Anything else?”

“No. And I don't want to play Twenty Questions.”

That was crabby, I thought, but he'd been crabby a few times before, usually when he needed to eat. I didn't take it to mean anything.

I suggested we go to the Hot Spot for something. If it was breaking one of the rules I was supposed to live by, I didn't care.

I wasn't playing by those rules anymore.

When we got to the Hot Spot and Dan was sitting down, I went to the counter and ordered cokes and fries with ketchup for both of us. “I don't have any cash with me,” I told Allard. “I have some at home so I'm good for it.”

“You want to put it on Frank's tab with all the rest of the kid's food?” he asked.

“Please,” I said.

Another thing for Frank to get excited about.

Allard brought the food over to the table when it was ready. He tried to talk to Dan but he didn't have any better luck than I did. After a while, he went back behind the counter.

Dan put a load of salt and ketchup on the fries. Then he just looked at them. “Try one,” I said.

He did. And he grunted, like they were good. I thought he'd get a rhythm going and try another one, but that didn't happen.

A bunch of firefighters in their yellow suits came into the Hot Spot while we were there. They were laughing and talking loud — taking a break and having fun for a change.

They seemed friendly enough but when Dan saw them he scraped back from the table and stood up so fast the chair fell over backward.

“What is it?” I asked him. I stood up, too.

“Problem?” one of the firefighters said. He looked over at Dan. The way I saw it, he was just acting concerned.

Allard came over and stood beside me. “Something wrong with the food?” he asked.

“You told them where I was,” Dan hissed at me. He backed away from the fire fighters. When he got to the door, he turned and ran outside.

“Slow down,” I called after him. “Tell me what's wrong.” I followed him until we got back to the jail.

“I've seen them before,” he said. “They're demons.” His eyes moved back and forth like he was watching a speeded up movie. “They hid in the smoke. Then they chased me and set the world on fire.”

I had to think for a minute before I figured out what he was talking about. “They're firefighters,” I said. You probably saw some when you were lost and confused. You were lost out there, weren't you?”

“You've ruined everything,” Dan said. He gave me a look that stabbed right into my heart. Then he went inside and closed the door. I heard him locking it.