“There’s plenty of evidence as to what happens when a man tries to run from Solomon Wade,” Arlen said. “More than enough evidence for me. I’m not going to leave him behind to chase her. I can’t.”
“When are you going to do it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“That’s when the Cubans are coming in,” Arlen said. “It’ll have to be done then or he’ll miss his money. We’ll need that money to have a chance.”
Paul dropped his eyes to the bag on his lap. “How much is there? Total.”
“Ten.”
“You gave me half?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? I’m not doing a thing. You’re giving me half that money and setting me out a day before anything’s to happen?”
“Hell, yes, I am,” Arlen said. “I don’t give a damn what you care to believe, because I know that it is true: you’ll die at that man’s hand if you stay in this place. All your words of argument aren’t going to change the truth of it.”
But Paul didn’t offer any words of argument. Instead he said, “Rebecca told me about your father,” in a soft voice.
“I heard that.”
Paul looked up. “Is it true?”
“It’s true.”
“She told me about France, too,” he said. “The things you claimed you saw…”
“Claimed” you saw. Still not believing.
“Tell you something about that,” Arlen said. “The worst things I saw there were the real ones. A man with smoke-eyes, he could still be saved, time to time. The others, though? The fields I walked through stacked with corpses? Those men’s chances had passed, Paul.”
Paul didn’t say anything. Arlen knew he didn’t believe it, and that was fine. He’d long ago lost the hope of convincing people to believe him. Some might for a time—Paul had once, Rebecca seemed to now—but most wouldn’t or couldn’t, and he’d made peace with the realization that all he could do was provide help. Tonight was more of that.
You’re going to need to believe.
His father’s words floated across the years to him now, the sight of his bearded face and those eyes that had looked so soft, so gentle in the moment that he’d uttered his final sentences to his son.
He told you that, Arlen thought, and you’ve spent the rest of your days trying to convince others to believe you, but you still won’t believe him. That’s what Rebecca doesn’t understand. How come you can’t believe him?
It was a question with an easy answer, but Arlen had avoided facing that answer head-on for years and would continue to do so. If his father had been telling the truth, then his death out there in the cold wind and the dust, well, it had been at Arlen’s hand every bit as much as Edwin Main’s. Arlen had gone and brought that death home, had sought it out and betrayed his own family and…
He was crazy, Arlen thought with so much vehemence that he nearly said it aloud. What he believed, no man should. You can’t speak to the dead. Those who try are fools, and those who claim to… well, they’re a shade darker.
They came to a crossroads unmarked by signs, but Rebecca had described it and he knew to turn left, north. They were probably twenty minutes from the next town now, from the train station. The rain was slackening, but the lightning had picked back up, illuminating the countryside in ghoulish flashes.
“You might put some of those dollars in an envelope and send them to your mother,” Arlen said. “If you need it all, fine. But she was used to your CCC checks. Don’t forget your family, no matter how they seem to you.”
Paul didn’t answer. Arlen knew his days of influence with the young man were past, but he couldn’t help himself, not now that more cars were passing and the woods were broken here and there by clusters of homes, making it clear that they were nearing the town. This would be the last he’d see of him, and he couldn’t hold back from offering advice even when he knew he should not.
“You keep a sharp eye out for a time to come,” he said. “I expect you’ll never be looked for, never be connected to what we do. But there’s a chance, and you better be ready for it. Get far from this place and live quiet for a time. Keep your head up and your eyes open. If they send somebody, you’ll need help, and you’ll need it fast. I hope they don’t send anybody.”
His voice went a little unsteady at that, and he cleared his throat loudly and blinked at another flash of lightning.
“I want you to know,” he said, “I didn’t plan on her.”