No Country for Old Men(46)

The driver studied him. Moss leaned on the window. Can you take me across the bridge? he said.





To the other side.





Yes. To the other side.





You got monies.





Yes. I got monies.





The driver looked dubious. Twenty dollars, he said.





Okay.





At the gate the guard leaned down and regarded him where he sat in the dim rear of the cab. What country were you born in? he said.





The United States.





What are you bringing in?





Not anything.





The guard studied him. Would you mind stepping out here? he said.





Moss pushed down on the doorhandle and leaned on the front seat to ease himself out of the cab. He stood.





What happened to your shoes?





I dont know.





You dont have any clothes on, do you?





I got clothes on.





The second guard was waving the cars past. He pointed for the cabdriver. Would you please pull your cab over into that second space there?





The driver put the cab in gear.





Would you mind stepping away from the vehicle?





Moss stepped away. The cab pulled into the parking area and the driver cut the engine. Moss looked at the guard. The guard seemed to be waiting for him to say something but he didnt.





They took him inside and sat him in a steel chair in a small white office. Another man came in and stood leaning against a steel desk. He looked him over.





How much have you had to drink?





I aint had anything to drink.





What happened to you?





What do you mean?





What happened to your clothes.





I dont know.





Do you have any identification?





No.





Nothing.





No.





The man leaned back, his arms crossed at his chest. He said: Who do you think gets to go through this gate into the United States of America?





I dont know. American citizens.





Some American citizens. Who do you think decides that?





You do I reckon.





That's correct. And how do I decide?





I dont know.





I ask questions. If I get sensible answers then they get to go to America. If I dont get sensible answers they dont. Is there anything about that that you dont understand?





No sir.





Then maybe you'd like to start over.





All right.





We need to hear more about why you're out here with no clothes on.





I got a overcoat on.





Are you jackin with me?





No sir.





Dont jack with me. Are you in the service?





No sir. I'm a veteran.





What branch of the service.





United States Army.





Were you in Nam?





Yessir. Two tours.





What outfit.





Twelfth Infantry.





What were your dates of tour duty.





August seventh nineteen and sixty-six to September second nineteen and sixty-eight.





The man watched him for some time. Moss looked at him and looked away. He looked toward the door, the empty hall. Sitting hunched forward in the overcoat with his elbows on his knees.





Are you all right?





Yessir. I'm all right. I got a wife that'll come and get me if you all will let me go on.





Have you got any money? You got change for a phone call?





Yessir.





He heard claws scrabbling on the tiles. A guard was standing there with a German Shepherd on a lead. The man jutted his chin at the guard. Get someone to help this man. He needs to get into town. Is the taxi gone?





Yessir. It was clean.





I know. Get someone to help him.





He looked at Moss. Where are you from?





I'm from San Saba Texas.





Does your wife know where you are?





Yessir. I talked to her here just a while ago.





Did you all have a fight?





Did who have a fight?





You and your wife.





Well. Somewhat of a one I reckon. Yessir.





You need to tell her you're sorry.





Sir?





I said you need to tell her you're sorry.





Yessir. I will.





Even if you think it was her fault.





Yessir.





Go on. Get your ass out of here.





Yessir.





Sometimes you have a little problem and you dont fix it and then all of a sudden it aint a little problem anymore. You understand what I'm tellin you?





Yessir. I do.





Go on.





Yessir.





It was almost daylight and the cab was long gone. He set out up the street. A bloody serum was leaking from his wound and it was running down the inside of his leg. People paid him little mind. He turned up Adams Street and stopped at a clothing store and peered in. Lights were on at the rear. He knocked at the door and waited and knocked again. Finally a small man in a white shirt and a black tie opened the door and looked out at him. I know you aint open, Moss said, but I need some clothes real bad. The man nodded and swung open the door. Come in, he said.