Godless by Pete Hautman Page B

BELLY, FAT AND WET, AND THEY FELL DOWN UPON THEIR KNEES ON THE MOIST EARTH AND THEY BOWED DOWN BEFORE IT AND THEY NAMED IT THE T EN-LEGGED G OD .
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16
 
    I’m knocking on Shin’s window. I know he’s in there, but his blinds are closed and he’s not answering.
    It’s supposed to hit 100 degrees this afternoon. Feels like it’s there already. The sun is cooking my back and I’m oozing sweat from every pore. I walk around the house to the front door and press the bell thirty or forty times, hoping to irritate him into answering. No luck. I try the doorknob. It’s unlocked. I let myself in, out of the heat.
    Ah, air conditioning! How did people survive without it? I stand in the Schinners’ living room holding my arms out, letting my body cool and looking around at the books. Books everywhere. Shin’s parents both teach at Harker College, twenty-five miles away. They are insane for books. Every possible square foot of wall space is taken up by bookshelves, every shelf stacked two or three deep with volumes of every shape, size, and description. It feels like being in a library where there is no librarian, and nobody throws anything out—not ever.
    After I cool off a degree or two, I make my way to the back bedroom, where I find Shin lying flat on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. There is a nasty smell in the room, a cross between dead fish and gym socks.
    â€œHey,” I say. “What reeks?”
    â€œYou,” he replies.
    I sit down on the foot of his bed.
    â€œI’m sorry. I should have talked to you.”
    â€œGo to hell.”
    â€œThere is no Chutengodian hell,” I say, hoping to get a grin out of him.
    No sale. He won’t even look at me.
    â€œLook, Shin, I had to let Henry in the church. He wouldn’t tell me how to climb the tower unless I let him join.” Was that actually true? Maybe not. Another holy lie for the greater good.
    â€œYou didn’t have to make him High Priest.”
    â€œIt’s just a title. You heard him—he doesn’t even want the job.”
    Shin says nothing.
    â€œYou’re coming up with us tonight, aren’t you?”
    â€œHe’s not even serious,” Shin says, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his knees. “It’s just a joke to him.”
    â€œWhat do you expect? I mean, it
is
kind of a joke.”
    â€œYou better hope
he
doesn’t hear you say that.”
    â€œWho? Henry?”
    Shin gives me a red-eyed look. “Not
Henry
. What do I care what
Henry
thinks? I’m talking about the Ten-legged One.”
    â€œOh.” Is he kidding? Once again, I’m not sure. Shin starts rocking back and forth. I hate it when he does that.
    I stand up, looking around for a change of subject, and see his gastropodarium. “So, how are your slimers doing?” I peer into the glass tank. “Your little pond is all dried up.” My nose wrinkles at the fetid odor. “So this is what reeks!”
    â€œI’ve been busy.”
    None of the snails are moving. I reach in and nudge one. It tips over on its side.
    â€œI think they’re dead.”
    â€œThey’re not dead,” Shin says. “They’re estivating.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œIt’s what pods do when things get bad. They pull into their shells and cover the opening with a cap of dried mucus. And wait. They can survive for months, waiting for rain.” Shin grips his knees with his thin fingers and leans forward, his eyes shimmering. “Wouldn’t that be great?”
    â€œYou want me to give them some water?”
    â€œLeave ’em alone.”
    â€œI think some of them are dead, Shin.”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œYou don’t care if they die?”
    He shrugs.
    I feel bad for the snails. Shin is their god, and he has abandoned them. “I think you should come up with us tonight,” I say.
    He shakes his