THE SHACK
Dust motes swirled in sunset-orange light through the shack’s window as the sun dropped all but out of sight. Nate watched shapes form in floating dust. A bird, a flower, a bear. He tried not to think about what was coming.
“I know who you are,” Houser said as he tied Nate to a chair. It was hell-hot inside the shack. Houser sweated. Nate didn’t. He figured his body didn’t have any more moisture to give. The dust motes congealed into a solid image. Nick’s face floated behind Houser. He nodded at Nate like I’m here and then the dust motes continued their dance and he disappeared.
“You’re Nate McClusky,” Houser said. “The scourge of Aryan Steel. Like something out of a country song. That’s how they talk about you. You and your girl both.”
“Keep her out your mouth.” The ghost of his brother gave him an atta boy.
“You know as well as me you’re going to die right here,” Houser said. “You know you’re going to die tonight. I won’t do you the disrespect of trying to tell you any different. Only two things you got any chance of changing is just how easy that dying is, and what I do after.”
“Okay,” Nate said.
“You believe me.”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re the one who took down the stash house in Sun Valley. You and your little girl.”
“So?”
“So I know what gets sent down there. So I did some back-of-the-envelope figuring on it. The way I see it, a smart man could have cleared six figures off that caper. And it’s not your only job. Someplace out there, you’ve got stashed either a lump of cash or a lump of that powder. Tell me where it is.”
“We dumped it.”
“Think I’m dumb?”
“We dumped the powder. All of it.”
“You threw away a hundred grand worth of crank?”
“Didn’t need it.”
“You understand I’m going to hurt you.”
He showed him a knife curved like a fishhook. Nate couldn’t answer. He couldn’t trust his voice.
Goddamn, Nick, I’m so scared.
Only way out is through, little brother.
“Maybe you won’t believe me, son, but I don’t want to do this. I don’t like hurting a man. Not like Jimmy does. He comes back here before you talk, you’ll see a man who takes pleasure in his work.”
He’s going to hurt me, Nick.
Yes he is.
“We flushed it.”
“I’ll believe it when I hear it from your girl’s mouth. Maybe you tell me where she is instead.”
Nate shook his head like no.
“All right then. Have it your way.”
Only way out is through.
Houser started cutting. What followed made Nate understand how shallow he’d lived his life. It made him see that there was a deep core to him that he’d never reached, not in joy or sorrow, not in love or laughter. He found some final deep protoplasm at the heart of him that could only be reached with a knife.
He came out the other side of the cutting not sure what was him and what was the night. Sweat and blood slicked him. Houser wiped blood off the blade.
“Your money or your daughter. You’re going to tell me, hoss.”
Rope bit into Nate’s wrists when he twisted them.
“Fuck you,” Nate said. Or was it Nick?
“This ain’t no song, boy. Tell me what I want to know and I can end this.”
“Not today, not ever.”
Stabs like puffs of wind. Drips. Houser breathing faster now. Working hard.
A slice. Something falling in a flap against his face. Nate reached out for the ghost of his brother in his head. But he was gone now. At the end of it Nate was alone. Nothing at all in the universe but this shack, this knife. The man cutting him.
Something urgent happened to his head. A great seal broken inside him. And the words wanted to spill out whatever hole had been dug in him. It wasn’t the ghost of his brother or an outlaw code that kept him silent. It was deeper than that. That deep protoplasm knew one more thing than just pain. It knew Polly, and it kept her safe.
The digging ended. Nate floated. His vision was blurred, flat. New shadows darkened the room.
“Jimmy,” Houser said into his phone.
“Yeah,” he said.
“What?” he said.
“Where?” he said.
“Goddamn you,” he said.
“Keep him in the desert,” he said.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” he said.
“I’ll find him,” he said.
Through the fog, Houser’s shape framed itself against bright light. Houser had opened the door. Then he closed it. Houser was gone. The pain stayed.