Born in Salt, page 22
“It’ll take getting used to. But it looks good.”
“It’d better. It’s a pain in the ass.” She turned to Aaron. “So what about you? What’s your story?”
“Former pharmacy tech,” he said. “Currently unemployed. Got in some trouble with the law and need to relocate.”
Sarah turned around to face me. “Mostly I’m interested in how my best friend turned into a damn drughead.”
“I’m not a drughead,” I said. “It’s just to get me through... Remember I was drunk for three days after Jake’s funeral?”
She nodded. “How long will this last?”
I started to tell Sarah what I’d been through, but started crying instead.
Talitha reached over the baby seat and held my hand. “Oh, sweetie.”
Embarrassed, I forced myself under control.
Sarah told Talitha, “Well you seem for real. Mind if I ask, whose baby that is?”
“Mine.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course. I mean who’s the father?”
“Shitty ex-boyfriend. When I told him I was pregnant, he said I should take rat poison to kill it. I started throwing shit at him and he took off. Never came back.”
She hadn’t told me the rat poison story. No wonder she thought I was nice, compared to that psycho.
“You weren’t doing drugs while you were pregnant, were you?” Sarah asked.
“I was clean most of the time. My doctor moved me into a women’s center, run by Catholic Charities, so I’d have a healthy baby.”
“And I guess since you’re white, the government gives you vouchers for medicine, food, diapers...?”
“It isn’t much. But the women’s center’s still helping me. And the church down the street. It’s a good deal, an hour a week listening to the preacher and they give you a box of food after.”
“And she works as a courier,” I said.
Sarah’s eyes stayed on Talitha. “I’m curious why you latched on to Ben. He’s a nice guy, but he’s poor as sand, he’s no sugar daddy.”
Talitha reddened in anger. “We love each other, you nosy cunt. Why don’t you back off?”
I’d never seen Talitha so mad. Ladonna started to cry. Paul gripped the steering wheel and Aaron stared at the empty fields.
Sarah held up her hands. “Sorry. No one ever accused me of being tactful. I just wanna make sure my best friend doesn’t get hurt.”
I leaned forward. “That’s enough, Sarah. If you can’t tell she’s good then you’re dense.”
“You’re one to talk, sticking Smash in your veins.” She watched Talitha try to comfort Ladonna. “I’ll shut up now.”
* * *
Paul dropped Aaron off at the Concrete Arms parking lot.
“Coming in?” Aaron asked.
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Paul said.
“Where are Talitha and me staying, then?” I asked when we pulled out.
“Micah’s.”
“Who’s Micah?” Talitha asked.
“Friend of ours,” I said. One of Paul’s recruits, the chubby blond guy.
Paul turned onto the state road—Lindbergh Avenue once you entered city limits—and headed east into town. “He lives with his fiancée,” he said. “They’re interns at the community hospital.”
I wish I’d known that when we dumped off the guy with the rotting leg.
“They have a guest room,” he continued.
“And we can stay there?”
“As long as you behave, I’ll make it work.” He turned left on Chestnut Street, which went past the medical buildings. Rachel’s house was four blocks in the opposite direction.
Sarah turned around and glared at us. “No Smash in his house, got it?”
“I need to quit anyway,” I said.
Talitha eyed me and pressed her lips together. Then she stared out the window at the small, red brick hospital. It would have all kinds of drugs. We could score a year’s worth of codeine, even morphine, if we pulled off a heist.
I buried the idea. “Can we stop by the farm?”
Sarah’s eyebrows raised. “We’re almost at Micah’s. Besides, there’s a Pinkerton living at your house.”
My whole body clenched. How could this happen? “A bank thug living in my house?”
“To keep anyone from coming back, I guess.” She gave me a look of sympathy.
“What about our stuff?”
Paul answered first. “Bank will probably auction what they can and haul the rest to the dump.”
“How can they...” Five generations of Adamsons all gone, nothing left.
“Standard procedure,” he said. “Banks want every dollar they can swindle.”
Despair turned to rage at the injustice. “Fuck those scat-munchers. It’s our house, our stuff. I need a gun.”
Sarah threw up a hand. “Whoa, cowboy. Let’s think before you rush in there and get killed.”
“I’m a good shot. You know that.”
“Arrested and hung, then.”
She was right. I needed a workable plan. And maybe my aunts had already moved our belongings out.
Paul parked on a gravel pad in front of a small prefab house at the north end of Chestnut Street. “Here we are.”
A red compact car, which I’d seen at the Turner farm, sat to the right. The house still had Christmas lights and a wreath up. The curtains were closed.
Paul got out and knocked on the door. Sarah and I followed.
Micah, thinner than last time we met, opened the door. “Paul. Sarah. Ben. Come in.”
I waited for Talitha, who carried Ladonna.
Their living room was tidy but small, with a varnished wood floor, paisley sofa and matching chairs. Past the living room were a dining nook and doorways leading left and right. No television, no radio.
A chubby woman with curly brown hair rose from the sofa. “Hello.”
“I have a favor to ask,” Paul asked.
Micah answered first. “Yes?”
“You know Ben’s house was stolen by the bank—”
Micah scanned me head to toe. “And you need a place to stay?”
“Not long,” I said, trying to keep calm. “Just a few days.”
I introduced Talitha and Ladonna. Micah introduced the chubby woman—his fiancée, Beth. She cooed over Ladonna and bonded with Talitha right away.
Micah showed us to their guest room. It was cramped, and with the crib assembled, we had to move the dresser into the hall.
“Sorry it’s a little small,” Beth said.
I shrugged. It was a palace compared to prison.
Talitha turned toward the wall and started nursing Ladonna. “It’s kind of you to put us up,” she said over her shoulder.
Beth escorted me back to the living room, where the others stood talking. “You guys don’t have a radio?” I asked. Music had power like nothing else to make life semi-tolerable.
Micah shook his head. “Radio and TV are just propaganda outlets.”
I started to tell him about the St. Louis station that never repeated the same song more than once a month, but Paul intervened and shook Micah’s hand. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He turned to Beth. “Maybe you could take Talitha and Ladonna over to the hospital tomorrow morning for a checkup.”
“Do you have a way to get people off Smash?” Sarah asked.
Beth and Micah looked alarmed.
“Talitha and Ben,” Sarah said. “They’re tame, don’t worry. But they’ll live longer if they kick their habit.”
I shook my head, but she was probably right.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Beth said.
Paul and Sarah left, and Talitha settled Ladonna in her crib.
“Phone’s off limits,” Micah told me.
I eyed the bulky black phone hanging at the dining nook entrance. The handset cord hung loose, not plugged into the base. “How come?”
“Only reason we have a phone is because the hospital requires it. But you never know when the government’s listening in, and they keep records of who calls who. We only plug the handset in when the phone rings, so they can’t activate the microphone when we’re not using it.”
“Fair enough.” There were plenty of pay phones around.
Beth fixed leftovers for us to eat. A terrible craving arose as we sat at the small dining table, like my chest had grown hollow and something was clawing to get out. Talitha kept fidgeting and licking her lips.
We hurried through the food. “I’ve got to check on Ladonna,” Talitha said.
“It’s been a long day,” I added, knees shaking. “I promise I’ll be better company tomorrow.”
Beth and Micah squinted at us. Then Beth said, “Okay, see you in the morning.”
We hurried to the bedroom, trying to be discreet but afraid we weren’t. Talitha zipped open her leather bag.
“My body’s clenching all over,” I said. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Talitha said. Her lips trembled and she sniffled. “I’m so sorry.” She filled a syringe and motioned for me to sit on the bed. “Make a fist. I’ll hit you, you’re shaking too much.”
My fingers were trembling. Hers were too, but she was more used to this than me.
“This is the ultimate show of love, right here,” she said. “Taking care of your lover before yourself.”
She injected me first. I hoped Sarah wouldn’t find out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Talitha and I woke before dawn and got high before anyone could interrupt us. We held each other a while. Then she had to feed Ladonna.
“You can take the first shower,” I told her.
As soon as I heard water running, I pulled the camera and tape recorder out of my coat, wrapped them in a dirty shirt, and hid them behind the wardrobe. If Paul spotted them he’d cite rule number five and kill me, maybe Talitha too.
Would he? Was he capable of murder? He was serious and dogmatic, and I didn’t aim to tempt him.
Beth served corn flakes for breakfast. Afterward, she walked Talitha and Ladonna to the hospital for checkups and any missing vaccinations.
Paul and Sarah arrived soon after, at half past eight.
“I have to be at the hospital by nine,” Micah said.
“Not a worry,” Paul said. “This won’t take long.” He turned to me and pointed at the paisley sofa. “Have a seat.”
I sat, wondering where this was going. Paul and Sarah pulled chairs close to me. Still standing, Micah winced. “Don’t scratch the floor.”
Sarah rolled her eyes but apologized.
“Are you well rested?” Paul asked me.
“Yeah. I should go see my aunts, see what the arrangements are.”
“I’ll give you a ride wherever you need to go.”
Sarah stared at me. “Are you high now?”
The haze had mostly worn off. “No.”
“Good,” she said.
Paul steepled his fingers. “I don’t know what to think of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Rachel, organizing that rally. I’m disappointed by your naiveté, but impressed by your initiative.”
My fists clenched at the memory of Paul sipping a drink while the Insects attacked. “You could have helped.”
“You didn’t follow the rules, and didn’t listen to me.”
“They tried to rape Rachel and they tortured us, worse than you can possibly imagine, and...” I lost control—again—and started crying.
Sarah moved next to me on the sofa and rubbed my shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“I told the others to stay away,” Paul said. “So they wouldn’t get caught.”
My tears wouldn’t stop. “Evil fucking sadists… Rachel...”
Paul sighed. “I am sorry about what happened. You’re out now and we’ll find a way to help Rachel.”
“We flyered the town for your release,” Sarah said. “Maybe it helped.”
All it did was aggravate Lewison’s surliness, but I’d keep that to myself. I wiped my eyes with a shirt sleeve. “Thanks.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
I squeezed her hand. “They decided Rachel was the only one worth keeping. We have to get her out.”
“Why did you raise an army of drugheads?” Paul asked.
I gave him half the truth. “I was trying to save the farm. Which didn’t work.” Like everything I tried.
“I could have told you that. But again, impressive initiative and organizing, especially without Rachel in charge.”
My muscles tightened again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She strikes me as more of a self-starter.”
The nerve of that soda-sipping asshole! “Screw you.”
Paul tensed. “I was a little surprised the feds let you out the first time. But even more surprised the second time.”
I hoped he wouldn’t search our bedroom. “They let everyone go. We didn’t say anything against the government. And it was the holidays.”
“Well I’m glad you’re out, Ben,” Sarah said.
“Where have you been?” I asked. “I stopped by your house.”
“I got the message. We’ve been busy.”
I remembered Paul’s plans to recruit others and start a cleaning business. “Tending bar? Cleaning houses?”
“Both and a lot more,” he said.
“Never thought I’d have to clean houses for uppity white women,” Sarah said. “But like Paul says, it’s income, a reason to meet, and access to all kinds of places.”
“How does Micah fit in?” I asked. “And June? And what’s his name, the big guy?”
I wondered if I should ’fess up about my deal with Lewison. I could be a double agent—get Rachel out, but work for the resistance.
Micah answered, “Always good to have a doctor on call. And someone with access to supplies.”
“Since she’s white, June owns the business,” Sarah said. “On paper, anyway. American Cleaners and Fixers.” She grinned.
Clever name. Probably her idea.
“Mary and I are maids,” she continued, “Amos is the handyman, and Paul does the driving.”
“Enough,” Paul said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, a .45 ACP M1911A1. Army issue, heavy stopping power for a handgun.
I tensed but didn’t panic, probably thanks to the Smash remnants.
Sarah’s eyes widened. “What—?”
“Not here,” Micah said.
Paul ignored them and pointed the pistol in my general direction, although not directly at me. “Now Ben—”
“Don’t point that at me.” Good thing I hid the spy gear.
His gun didn’t waver. “Remember what I said the penalty was for betrayal?”
Now my muscles did want to tremble. No way would I mention Lewison now. “What are you talking about?”
“You know too much. And you brought in all these unreliable people. Talitha. Aaron.”
“They don’t know anything about you. Neither does the government. I didn’t talk.”
“And with you on Smash, you’re even more unreliable. I have no idea what to do with you.”
“Well you’re not shooting him,” Sarah told him. “There’s no one I trust more, and that includes you. Now put that damn gun away.”
Paul frowned at her. Sarah crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
He holstered his gun. “I’d better not regret this. Alright, Ben, are you still with the program?”
Huge relief. “You promised to help Rachel. Get her out of that hellhole and I’ll do anything.” My jaw tensed. “And some people need to pay for what they’ve done.”
“I’m with you,” Sarah said.
The relief grew, tinged with guilt. I squeezed Sarah’s hand again. “I was wondering why so many people support the regime, and how to change that.”
“It’s mostly fear,” Paul said. “By demonstrating widespread resistance, we remove that fear. It has to be successful resistance, though, not a disaster like your rally.”
Not that again. I glared at Paul and he leaned back in his chair like he wanted to apologize but thought it might show weakness.
“Why do the churches support the government and banks?” I asked. “Why would someone like Father Coughlin, who preached against bankers, support a coup led by them?”
Paul folded his hands. “The business leaders stayed in the background, pulling the strings. Coughlin opposed the bankers but supported the coup since he hated Roosevelt and Jews, and loved Lindbergh and the sound of his own voice.”
Sarah shook her head. “Any preacher with self-respect should be telling their flock to resist. But none of them do, at least around here.”
Micah stood. “I have to go to work.”
He left and Paul offered to shuttle me around. “You dress well for a farm boy,” he said on the way to the car.
I hated wearing a suit, but didn’t have much else. “Just following your lead. But yeah, I need my clothes.”
I hopped in the back of his car, Paul and Sarah in front. We stopped at a pay phone and I called my Aunt Joanna, who lived on her husband’s farm in the next county.
“I’m headed over today,” I said. “Is Aunt Eunice there?”
“Yeah,” Joanna said, “and your Aunt Sybil. Eunice isn’t talking to anyone. She’s taken a vow of silence. Too bad she didn’t do that thirty years ago.”
“I wanted to know, what did you grab from the house? Like letters and photos. And my guns and guitar.”
“Nothing.”
My throat tightened. “Nothing?”
“They wouldn’t even let us have the scrapbooks. Sheriff Johnson said it was a crime scene, and then the bank would hold an auction. He said our family brought this on ourselves, attacking him and his men.”
After all our suffering, they had to pile on? “Call my advocate. Maybe he can help.”
“We don’t even have money for the funeral. How are we supposed to pay some lawyer?”
I slammed the receiver down, then picked it up again and smashed it against the phone housing over and over. Pay phones were tough, though, and nothing broke.
When I could finally speak, I gave Paul directions. Half an hour west, toward Missouri.
