Whispering Nickel Idols

33

“Hey, Teach, I fink da asshole’s comin’ round,” a voice said. It turned out to be Vernor Choke’s.

I was tied into an ancient wooden armchair. The setting was the sort of hideout gang guys run to when there’s a war on. There were pallets scattered around. Spider Webb and Original Dick occupied two. Both were in worse shape than me.

Choke got behind me. He lifted my chin, showed me Teacher White slumped in a chair close by, still leaking a little red.

Welby Dell appeared with a bowl of water, some cloth pieces, and a dirty hunk of sponge. He went to work on Teacher’s face.

White mumbled something.

Dell relayed. “Where’s Chodo?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. At home, I reckon. He don’t get out much.”

White mumbled. Dell asked, “Where’s Harvester Temisk?”

“He don’t keep me posted.” I tried to turn my head. I wanted a fix on the wide bodies. Choke wouldn’t let me. “Aren’t you a little low on the food chain for this kind of crap?”

Welby Dell grimaced. Exactly what he thought. All this was going to make life tough later. Teacher was betting their asses on one pass of the dice.

So Teacher hadn’t polled the troops before hiring outsiders and dumping everybody in the kettle. Nor had he leveled with them yet. They’d have a grand scramble, saving their butts.

Teacher mumbled, “I believe you, Garrett. I was pretty sure you wouldn’t know. But you’re a whiz at finding things. So you’re going to find Harvester and Chodo for me.”

I tried to work my muscles so they’d be loose when I jumped up out of the chair.

Teacher grumbled, “Where the hell is Skelington? I got Original and Spider down… That asshole was supposed to be… he bail on me?” White’s eyes narrowed. He’d had a thought. That was so unusual that he took a while to get used to it before he asked, “You know where Skelington is, Garrett?”

I shook my head. That hurt. “Ask Director Relway.” Maybe I wouldn’t do much flying around. I had cracked ribs to go with my dented head.

Something was nuts. Teacher White wasn’t stupid enough to come at me like this. He had to have an angle.

“Skelington! Goddamn Moron Skelington! He chickened out! He bailed. We gotta get the hell outta here. Goddamn Skelington.”

White’s intelligibility began to fade.

“Brett. Bart. About time, you assholes. You find Kolda? You get the stuff from him? Give it to Garrett. Now. We got to get the hell out of here.”

A ham of a hand grabbed my hair and yanked. Another got hold of my chin and forced my mouth open. Another one packed my mouth with shredded weed that had enjoyed a generation as skunk bedding before it got into the herbal-supplement racket. Yet another hand turned up with a lumpy old unfired mug full of water, most of which ended up on my outside.

The several hands forced my mouth shut, then covered my nose so I couldn’t breathe. The ancient trick for making a critter take its medicine.

“Swallow, Garrett,” Teacher told me.

I fought, but there was no winning. The lump went down like a clump of raw chaw, blazing all the way.

Teacher told me, “You’ll nap for a while, Garrett. You just swallowed a drug that will see to that while Kolda’s weeds have time to work.” Teacher strained to hold it together long enough to give me all the bad news. “When you wake up you’ll notice that it’s getting hard to breathe. After a while, if you don’t think about it, you’ll stop. If you stop, you’ll die.”

I felt something spreading from my belly already. It wasn’t the happy warmth of a Weider Select lager.

“Here’s the deal. You stay awake and pay attention, you’ll be all right. You fall asleep, you’ll die. You can’t remember to breathe if you’re asleep. Bring me Chodo or Harvester before you croak-I’ll give you the antidote. You know my word is solid.”

That was Teacher’s reputation. Though it did rest exclusively on the testimony of people who were still alive. Those he’d done real dirt to weren’t around to bear witness.

“Nighty-night, Garrett. Don’t waste no goddamn time when you wake back up.” White snarled, “The rest of you get this mess cleaned up. We got to get away from here.”

The man was an idiot. He’d jumped on what looked like a good idea without thinking it through. His biggest failing was right on the tip of my tongue when the sleepy drug dragged me off into the dark.

The question was, how did I find him when I was ready to hand Chodo over? Assuming I found Chodo.

Overall, Teacher White qualified as a smart crook. The proof? He was still alive. He’d reached middle management. He’d stayed alive by being careful never to show any imagination.

His actions now constituted rock-hard evidence that he didn’t have what it took to be a schemer.

He was going to get killed.

There was a damned good chance he’d take me with him.