What Came After by Sam Winston Page B

all.”
    “Them what has, gets.”
    “Don’t I know it.” Bouncing Penny a little. “That’s why we’re going to see that Mr. Carmichael, isn’t it, honey? Because he’s the one who can help if anybody can. And he made us a promise.”
    The driver studied the road. “One thing you learn growing up Management,” he said after a little.
    “What’s that?”
    “Ownership’s got a real short memory.”
    They rode along quietly for a while. The driver lighting up a cigarette and opening the window. The occasional crackle of a voice over the CB radio until he turned it off. Weller taking Penny’s head softly between his hands and turning it to point out landmarks along the highway. That’s the mouth of a river emptying into the sound. That used to be a railroad bridge. Those big towers marching along one after another used to carry electricity. Electricity in cables strung from one to the next like a cat’s cradle.
    They drew near a bridge with a double row of red lights blinking overhead as if somebody had won a jackpot. The driver nodded toward it, his face reflecting the red lights. “Security breach,” he said. “They know you’re in here. Not you exactly. But they know somebody’s in here who shouldn’t be.” Nodding like it gave him satisfaction. Like he took a little pride in it. The truck passing under the bridge now and the lights gone.
    Weller tightened his grip on Penny. “So what’s next.” Thinking how he’d cut that electrical fence. That was it. That was how they knew.
    “Next? Nothing. Nothing’s next. People keep an eye out is all.” Looking straight ahead. Driving. Checking his mirrors with the lights fading behind. “You’ll be on your own after the GWB,” he said after a while. “I go west and you go east.”
    “The GWB.”
    “The bridge. The George Washington Bridge. They closed all the tunnels down a few years back and there’s just the two bridges anymore. Brooklyn and the GWB. I’ll drop you on the Jersey side, and after that you’re on your own.”
    “We’ll take our chances.”
    “I guess you will,” he said. And then, as if he’d just woken up to it, “Next stop, Stamford. Everybody into the back.”
     
    *
     
    There was a narrow closet alongside the bunk and they barely fit into it. Shoved their packs into a compartment overhead and squeezed themselves into the little closet at an angle, Weller first and Penny after. Penny acting like it was a game but a serious one. Weller realizing as he pulled the door shut that whatever happened next was going to be up to the driver and the driver alone. Wondering what he’d gotten himself into.
    The truck went over some kind of grating and just about shook itself to pieces. The driver turned on the CB radio again and they heard a few stuttering bursts of a voice they couldn’t make out. Just barking. They passed over some more grates and then slowed to a stop and then everything was quiet for the longest time. Only the engine idling and some kind of regular beeping noise coming muffled through the window. Now and then the idle rising and the truck bumping forward and stopping again. Air brakes.
    They moved a little and the engine noise got louder without getting faster and Weller figured they’d gone under some kind of portico. Everything sounded closer. He could hear something from under the hood knocking in a metallic way he hadn’t heard before, as if the sound were bouncing off a wall and being clarified. Bouncing off concrete or tile or something else hard. Penny turned and started talking in his ear and he hushed her. Wait. This is where things happen. Bad things maybe if we’re not quiet. The sound of the engine getting louder yet as the driver opened his window and then a short conversation made entirely of shouting. Pleasantries if you could shout pleasantries. Two professionals going back and forth and then they were done and the window went up and the sound died back and the driver began working the