Walter said “Cassie” and when I looked he mouthed boots. I got it — her boots were caked with mud, and there’s geology to do. Still, I waited for something more, like, after she’s been deconned and treated and she’s not disintegrating in front of us let’s by all means get hold of those boots, but Walter only lifted his eyebrows and tightened his grip on Pria. His concern, I saw, was for the child and not the disintegrating mother.
Soliano tried again. “You encountered some…beads…Ms. Jellinek?”
I looked then at Chickie’s boots and like it’s been bred in the bone I thought, maybe we’ll get lucky and find distinct mud layers preserved in the waffle soles.
“Help us,” Soliano said, “and we will be able to assist you.”
Chickie extended her middle finger.
Pria hissed, “Stop it, you.”
Chickie faced the lawn and retched.
Hap fished a syringe and small brown bottle from his kit. He tore the plastic wrap off the syringe. He needled the the bottle and sauntered across the croquet line.
Soliano snapped, “Stop, Miller.”
Hap threw us a grin. “Time equals dose. I’ll be quick.” He caught Chickie’s right arm and yanked up her sleeve.
“Stop. I do not wish her sedated.”
Hap froze, needle raised.
And then all at once as if it had been choreographed Hap let go of Chickie and retreated across the croquet line and Scotty came running and a Beatty sheriff chopper slipped out of the clouds and ranger trucks appeared on the road below and began the climb up the fan.
Chickie collapsed in the grass. For a moment I thought she’d died. Then her eyelids flickered and reddened eyes gleamed through slits. She spoke, just audible above the incoming grumble of the chopper. “I got somethin you fuckers want.”
33
Rain came along with RERT, big fat drops that panicked Scotty because if there were resin beads on Chickie’s person he did not want Mother Nature washing them into the lawn, and so Lucy in her suit held a big Wal-Mart umbrella over Chickie.
The rest of us huddled under the roof of the walkway while rangers and deputies patrolled the perimeter.
RERTs in hazmat rushed in equipment and raised the decon corridor. They started the pump and the yellow plastic unfolded itself into a shower. They connected the hose to the PVC pipe and ran it into Soliano’s room, to the bathtub faucet. They ran the outflow hose across the grass past the monolith in the direction of the parking lot. Two of them began to meter the walkway, should Chickie have left a radiation trail. Another turned to Chickie and ripped open her shirt.
Pria gasped. Walter escorted her to his room.
Chickie fought feebly. It took three RERTs. They yanked off her boots. They unzipped her pants. They stood her up and peeled her to the skin. She hung between two of them. The third lifted her feet and they high-stepped into the yellow catch basin. The water went on. The nozzles sprayed all four of them, the RERTs in their slick white suits and Chickie in her loose white skin.
Soliano, decorous, turned away.
Hap watched, matter-of-fact.
I sank against the wall and studied my boots.
When it was finished Scotty came over, skinning off his hood and mask, blond hair spiking every which way. “Okey-doke, Hector,” he said, grim, “you get ten and then she’s on a chopper to Vegas. They got doctors trained for this.”
“No,” Soliano said, “you will fly your doctor here. In the meanwhile, Mr. Miller will render medical assistance.”
It was hot in Soliano’s room. The air conditioner was off because Chickie had the chills.
She lay on the bed. The blanket covered her from the neck down but her naked arms and doughy shoulders were exposed. The skin of her arms was reddened, raising in patches like crackling pastry. Her eyes were shut. Beside her pillow was an aluminum bowl.
Hap eased the needle into her arm, then massaged the IV bag.
I was waiting my turn for a closeup under her fingernails. I heard Walter, just outside, arguing with Scotty about a shielded box of contaminated clothing and boots. Although the decon shower had not flushed any observable beads, Scotty — and the rest of us — were not taking any chances.
Soliano said, “Ms. Jellinek?”
She lifted, and the blanket slipped to reveal stringy breasts as she twisted to bury her face in the bowl. She retched loudly then collapsed onto the bed.
Hap adjusted the IV tubing then pulled the blanket back up to her neck.
“Mr. Miller,” Soliano said, “how long does this…indisposition…last?”
“It’s the prodromal phase, Hector. Lasts couple days or so. Then she goes latent for awhile.”
Soliano moved closer to the bed, gazing down at Chickie. “Ms. Jellinek, the quicker we proceed, the quicker you can rest through this difficult phase. You say you have something we want?”
He put me in mind of a raptor examining its prey.
She glared. “What you fuckers do to my desert?”
“You refer to Mr. Jardine?”
She was silent so long I thought she’d said her last.
“Help us find this man who threatens your desert.”
She held up two fingers.
“Two men?”
I thought, she doesn’t know that Ryan Beltzman is dead.
“And you are what?” Soliano asked. “A partner?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Just sold ‘em my talc.”
“And attacked my geologists.”
She grinned. Grimaced. Then twisted, this time clutching the blanket, and retched into the bowl. When she lay back there were tears in her eyes.
The sympathy I’d been feeling evaporated in the overheated room.
Hap held up a bottle and syringe. “Anti-emetic, Hector. Stop the vomiting.”
“And make her drowsy, yes?”
“Could.”
“We will delay medication.” Soliano shrugged. “Ms. Jellinek, help us and then we will help you.”
She whispered, “Get Pria.”
Soliano smiled. When he’d left the room I watched Hap massage the IV bag and my skin puckered where he’d run saline into me, and then Chickie caught my eye and licked her finger and mimed touching my cheek, and then Soliano opened the door and ushered in Pria.
Chickie raised her head to nod at her daughter. The blanket slipped slightly, revealing the fibrous roots of her breasts.
Pria’s brown skin went crimson. “God.”
Chickie jerked up the blanket. “Pree.” Her voice was raw. “A million bucks, you an me. I’m sellin — he’s buyin.” She jerked a thumb at Soliano. “You make sure he don’t weasel.”
Pria wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Ms. Jellinek,” Soliano said, “this is not taking us where we need to go.”
Chickie’s tongue flicked out, wetting her cracked lips. “Awright. There’s pellets.” She cleared her throat. “Lot of em.”
Soliano said, softly, “They are loose?”
“Fuck yeah.”
A current seemed to run through the room.
Soliano said, “Where are they?”
“Ain’t gonna tell you, am I?” Chickie winked at Pria. “Not till you pay up.”
“Perhaps you do not know.”
“Callin me a liar?”
“I am calling your bluff.”
She grinned. “Well I took some of them pellets. Whole pack full.”
I went cold. The thought that tripleX resin beads were accessible, that this woman had found her way to Roy Jardine’s depot and simply helped herself, made the hairs stand up on my arms. I was simply agog at the ease with which the beads had passed from the jurisdiction of one thief to the hands of another. I suddenly wanted Soliano to tighten the screws.
“Where is the pack now?” was all he asked.
“Took it to Vegas.”