Last Rites by Kim Paffenroth Page B

higher than a four, you can count the ace as one. Don’t you get it, you stupid dumb ass?!”
    The dead man’s mouth hung open as he stared at the cards. He looked up at the angry man, then back down, then up, and shook his head.
    The angry man ran his hand across his bald head and through the wisps of hair in back. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Never mind! We’ll just have to keep the rule that the house stays on all seventeens! Can you do that? Stay on seventeen, all right?”
    The dead man nodded and gathered up the cards. He shuffled them in his hands, concentrating on what he was doing. Finally the living man noticed the visitors.
    “Dalia, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” the man said as he turned and got up. Truman thought her name was about the prettiest he’d ever heard.
    “Hi, Doctor Jack,” the girl said. “These men wanted to see you.”
    “Well, thank you very much. I’ll come fetch you later and we can work with the elves some more, clean some of the glue off them and make them look better for visitors. All right?” He smiled. His teeth were exceptionally white and straight.
    “That’ll be fun. Thanks!”
    Dalia left them and the man looked over Bart briefly. “I’m Jack Madison,” he said. “Folks around here call me Doctor, but that’s just for show.” He turned his attention to Truman. “You boys looking to sell this fellow?” he said as leaned to one side, inspecting Truman closely but still keeping a distance.
    “Yeah,” said Bart. “Some crazy hill people had him as a pet. Said he was really smart. He didn’t look like much of one for fighting, though, so we brought him to you.”
    “Oh, good. They have so many big, nasty ones for the patrols. This one looks more promising for our little show. He understand people?”
    “Yeah. He minds pretty good, too.”
    “That’s the most important.” The man looked in Truman’s eyes. “You understand me, boy?”
    Truman wondered what it was with all this “boy” shit. He wavered a moment, considering something violent. Nothing too much; maybe a lunge and snarl, just enough so they would treat him more like an animal and less like a child. Of course, it’d also bring on a vicious beating, or another zapping if they had one of those things around here. So he just nodded.
    “You know your numbers? Adding? What’s two plus two? This many?” The man held up all five fingers. Truman shook his head. “This many?” He held down his index finger with his thumb, so the last three fingers were still extended. Truman shook his head again. “This many?” His index finger came back up and Truman nodded.
    “Not bad.” The man reached into a pocket and produced some coins, keys, and two dice. He put one key, one die, and one coin on the table. “Okay. Let’s see if you know which one’s a square.” Truman wanted to say it was a cube and not a square, but he went along with it, pointing to the die. “A circle?” Truman pointed to the coin.
    The man smiled at him. “This one’s got some potential.” He got a wad of brightly colored paper out of his pocket and peeled off four bills.
    Bart eyed the bills but didn’t take them. “We got to divide it with some other guys back at the dock,” he said after a moment.
    Doctor Jack frowned, hesitated, then pulled off two more bills. “That’s it, boys. Times are tough all over. You can take this, or you can take your friend here and go.”
    Bart took the money.
    The Doctor said he wasn’t sure where he wanted to put Truman, so they chained him to a telephone pole outside and left him there. It was too sunny there, too bright and exposed, and all Truman could do was turn away from the sun and lean against the pole, defeated and alone as people went by—some of them talking with one another, very few of them noticing Truman at all, and none of them remarking his existence in any way.

Chapter 12: Will

    Will sat staring at Rachel after she fell back asleep. She was still a bit