Walter braced, as if for a blow.
She straightened and cocked her arm. She held a rock the size of a softball and she pitched it in a skilled overhand pitch and it didn’t have far to travel. Hap turned, unslinging the subgun but it was too late to do anything but catch Pria’s rock full in the chest. The gun slipped out of his hand and he came down hard on his back, turtling on the air tank. He rolled to his side, gasping. Before Walter or I could begin to come alive, Pria had dashed forward and snatched up the subgun.
I watched stunned. She comes out of nowhere and saves the day. No, she comes in her aunt’s truck and drives to point D and hikes from there only how in the world does she find this place? Some alien magic. I didn’t care. I wanted to hug her.
She shouldered the weapon and went to Walter, untying the knot that bound his wrists. Hap started to rise. She yelped “don’t move, you” and came back at Hap, aiming the weapon at his chest. “You used my mother.”
Hap froze.
Walter caught my eye, and tipped his head. He wanted us to stand in her way, some kind of blocking maneuver. I had no faith in that. She’s defending her mother — if that didn’t amaze Walter, it sure amazed me. What I don’t know about daughters could fill an ocean. I didn’t know if she could operate an MP-5 but if she could we had to stop her from shooting Hap. That’s a heavy burden for anyone to carry, much less a fourteen-year-old, and in any case Hap was no threat right now. I watched her fingers playing on the gunstock. Walter had edged in close to me, untying my wrists, but I could not have curbed a kitten right now, much less this girl. I said, “Pria, you can’t do anything for your mom now, but look. Look down there, that’s Milt down there and he’s still alive.”
She looked.
I said, “You saved us, you’re a hero, and you can help us save him. There’s a phone in the mine — we can call Soliano. He’ll send help for Milt. He’ll arrest Hap. So you can give Walter the weapon now.”
She said, still looking at Milt, “Is he sick?”
“Whoa,” Hap said, “Milt’s not the victim.”
She turned to Hap. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s your mom who’s the victim.”
Walter said, “Pria, listen to…”
“In a minute, Grandfather.” She jabbed the gun at Hap. “Say about my mom.”
Hap plunged ahead. “She had no idea what she was getting into. My partner was scouting for a place, she surprised him, he bought her off. I never even met her, Pria, until a couple days ago at her mine. Next time I saw her was this morning. Never dreamed she knew about this mine, much less she’d come up here. And I’m real sorry she sent you.”
“She didn’t.” Pria lifted her chin. “I figured it out. About the ranger fuck.” She flushed. “Chickie calls it that when they say what we can’t touch. Like bat nests. And drawings on rocks. And Grandfather said what kind of rocks we’re looking for so I figured it out.”
Walter looked stricken.
Pria glanced at me. “In your bathtub. I liked your bathtub.”
I nodded, faint, in reply.
“Chickie showed me drawings on that kind of rocks once, up here. But it was a long time ago so when I got here I had to go looking.” She nodded at an outcrop downcanyon. “Then I had to go find something to show that policeman, so he’d let my mother go.”
I blurted, “You went inside the mine?”
“You think I’m stupid? I was looking for footprints. Only then I heard you guys come out, and all that noise, and I hid.”
“Not stupid at all,” Hap said, “just trying to help your mom.” He cautiously sat up. “I tried help her myself, when she was sick. Remember?”
“No Pria,” I said, “he wanted to give her the medicine to put her out, so she couldn’t talk.”
“I wanted to stop the torment,” Hap said. “I saw my sister go through that.”
Pria looked stunned. “Is that true?”
“Yeah that’s true. Thanks to Milt.”
“Is your sister sick?”
“She’s dead.”
Pria’s hand went to her mouth. The weapon bobbed in her hand.
“So how about a little justice? For my sister and your mom. The victims. Let me go and I’ll tell their story.”
“You just did,” Walter said. “You’re done. Pria, whatever Milt did, he’ll account for. But now he needs help. That’s radioactive material down there — same thing that hurt your mom. Hap did that. And he’s the only one in position to undo the wrong. So I need you to let me take care of this.”
I went cold. Take care of this how?
“Give me the weapon, dear.” Walter put out his hand, and when Pria didn’t pull away, he took possession of the gun. He said, “Get up, Hap.”
Hap, wary, got to his feet.
“Take off that belt bag. Set your facepiece. Connect your breather.”
I said, “Walter no.”
“I’m with Buttercup, Walter.” Hap’s face was white. “You got a conscience. Use it.”
“I am.” Walter leveled the muzzle at Hap. “There’s human life at stake down there. Go get him.”
Hap was rooted.
Walter thumbed a lever, cocked the weapon, and fired. Dirt sprayed at Hap’s feet.
Hap flinched. Then, astonishingly, he smiled — that curbed toxic smile I’d seen in the RERT van the night he warned me to go with low dose. “Guess I lose.” He unclipped the bag and tossed it to the ground. He masked up and his smile disappeared behind the polycarbon shield.
I grabbed the belt bag and yanked open the zipper and rooted inside but there was no cell phone, and I considered running back to the mine to try to find my way to the tunnel where I’d left the pack with the satellite phone, but how long would that take on my rubber legs? And once I’d brought the phone back out and called Soliano, and Soliano and Scotty and his RERT team got themselves up here, how long would that take? Too long, for Milt anyway. I remembered Scotty’s words to me, two days ago at the borax mine: time equals dose.
I dropped the belt bag.
As I watched Hap trudge down toward the reservoir, my veins seemed to fill with poison. There was no clean way out here. This was the hopeless frontier between wrong and more wrong. I moved to stand beside Walter.
Pria folded herself down to an Indian-sit, hugging her chest, watching.
From where we stood it looked like a real rescue, a real hero in PC wading into the spent-resin pool to aid his unlucky coworker, plunging his hands into the poisonous beads to hook Milt under the arms. Sending up a new cloud of resin fines. All the while ticking off seconds and sucking up dose. If there’d been a health physicist on radiation control, counting the gammas, he would have surely screamed get out. Hap was trying. Milt was feebly protesting, not understanding. Hap tried to drag Milt to the rim but he sank with every step. It must have been like walking through quicksand. At last, he just dropped to his knees in the shit and got Milt around the waist and humped him over the shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He levered to his feet and staggered out of the tub.
We watched in silence as Hap carried Milt up the hill, well clear of the reservoir, well clear of us. He went down on his knees and unshouldered Milt, laying him out flat. He rose and started to move away.
Walter shouted, “You’re not finished yet.”
Hap looked at Walter. At the gun. He turned to finish the job. He brushed himself free of beads that still clung, hood to boots. He bent over Milt. He thumbed away the resinous crust on the gash on Milt’s skull. He whisked Milt’s eyebrows and lashes. He scoured Milt’s ears. He wiggled a forefinger between Milt’s lips and swabbed inside his mouth. Milt gagged, then lay still. No protest now. Hap sat back and examined his gloves. They glistened with beads. He wiped them clean on Milt’s torn shirt.