Pandemonium

Olympia was a little bump of a town that came up on their left. The demon laid on the air horns and kept blowing, a long wail that must have been heard all the way to Dodge City. He sang out:

“Johnny told the conductor, better say your prayers, Johnny told the conductor, better say your prayers, There’s a diesel train a-comin’

And it’s riding on our track.

We won’t be here much longer, boys,

But I’ll be comin’ back,

Lord, I’ll be comin’ back.”

He set the throttle and marched to the cabin door. The brakeman stood up in alarm, but the conductor and the engineer didn’t move.

“It’s been a great ride, boys!” Smokestack Johnny said. His smile was bright as a headlamp. Then he yanked open the door and stepped into the wind.

9

I opened my mouth, closed it.

O’Connell made a disgusted noise and pushed past me. She went to the table, pulled off her jacket, and draped it across the chair back. She wiped the water from her face, and her gaze fell on the pile of chains on the bed. She looked at me, eyebrows raised, as if to say, Are those yours?

“Make yourself at home,” I said. I stood near the open doorway, rain splattering the back of my shirt, and nodded toward the fish.

“Mind telling me what this thing is supposed to be?”

“Northern pike.”

“I can see that,” I said. Though I’d had no idea what kind of fish it was. “Who put it there?”

“You can thank Louise. It’s a service of the motel, like a mint on your pillow.”

I don’t check in people after eleven. I can’t put you into cabins that aren’t prepared.

“And that would be because . . . ?”

“Think Passover,” she said. I frowned. “Blood over the door, angel of death? Children of Israel?”

“I missed a lot of Sunday school,” I said.