57

Parkerson drove the asset to the old Atlantic Coast Line depot in Palatka, Florida. He bought a ticket from the Amtrak agent inside, and then walked back out to the parking lot to sit in the Cadillac and wait for the train.

The asset still hadn’t said anything. He’d sat in silence as Parkerson reversed the big Cadillac down that godforsaken dirt road, unaware of how close he’d been to death. He’d sat and said nothing as Parkerson drove north, and he said nothing now, in the Amtrak parking lot.

The train station was nearly deserted. An older couple waited on the platform, surrounded by suitcases and overstuffed plastic bags. They were the only other people Parkerson could see. He checked the time and stared out the window down the tracks, searching for the train’s headlight in the darkness.

He handed the asset the train ticket. “This will get you to Philadelphia,” he said. “Get you home. Go back to your apartment and stay there. Understand?”

The kid nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re no longer Richard O’Brien.” Parkerson held out his hand. “As soon as they take your ticket, you throw out whatever ID you have with that name on it. Everything. Give me your wallet.”

Wordless, the kid produced his wallet. Parkerson took it, removed the Triple A Industries credit card. Thought for a moment, and then dug in his own pocket and handed the kid a hundred dollars in twenties. “In case you need to eat.”

The kid folded the money into his wallet. Didn’t speak.

“Stay in the apartment,” Parkerson told him. “Don’t leave. Wait for my instructions. I’ll have your new name and ID ready in a couple of days.”

The kid put his wallet away. Parkerson studied his face. “What did I just say?”

The kid repeated his instructions, word for word. No hesitation. Like a robot. When he’d finished, he paused. Shifted his weight and looked at Parkerson like a first-grader with a full bladder.

“What?” Parkerson said. “What’s the matter?”

The asset hesitated. Opened his mouth and couldn’t seem to form words. “The visions,” he said at last. “You—”

“I’ll deal with the visions,” Parkerson told him. “I have a few more jobs I need you to do for me. Then I’ll make everything better. Understand?”

The kid looked at him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. It was the first sign of life Parkerson had seen all day.

THE TRAIN SHOWED UP at a quarter to ten. Parkerson walked the asset onto the platform. Stood him in line beside the gleaming coach cars and watched the asset climb aboard and pick out a seat. The kid didn’t look at him. He stared straight ahead, at the seat back in front of him. Didn’t move, barely blinked, and then the train pulled away.

Parkerson watched the train inch away from the platform. He kept his eyes on the asset as long as he could. Then the coach car was gone and the train picked up speed, the diner flashing by, then the sleeping cars, until all that was left were the red marker lights on the end of the last car, disappearing into the night.

Parkerson stood on the platform for a few minutes, listening as the big diesel engine’s throb slowly faded away. When he turned from the tracks, the platform was empty. He walked back to the Cadillac and slid behind the wheel. Closed his eyes and rested there for a moment. Then he straightened and fired up the engine. He still had a long way to go.