Steplings: A Novel

Chapter 5

Jason and Emily sat on trash bags plump with crushed aluminum cans. The man behind the wheel-"My name is Jacob"-had driven from Chicago where he lived and had picked up his passenger-"I am his cousin, Emmanuel"-in Dallas. Jacob left Chicago "it would be three days now," he said in a sing-song foreign to Jason's ears. They were driving to Houston to attend a reunion. They were not in a hurry to arrive. Jacob said that when they traveled they slept in the van and stopped in roadside parks to cook their meals. "We like our own food," said Emmanuel. Jason thought the pair might be in their twenties, though it was hard to tell because the men were that rich dark hue of Africans, and the only light available rose faintly from the dash. Their odor---cooking oil, sweat, and an unidentified spice that might've come from their food or something stowed in the van-likewise marked them as exotics. A male chorale purling quietly on a CD or tape lured Jason's ear, and when he asked about it, Jacob said, "They are singing hymns in Dinka." The cockeyed right headlamp cast its skewed flare out onto the right-of-way beyond the shoulder and twinkled back from the butt ends of soda cans and bottles. The light leapfrogged by bounds, like a tossed net, ahead of their progress, and they moved slowly enough to decide if the object glimmering back in the bar ditch was sufficiently enticing to examine. "We are fishermen," chuckled Jacob. He'd curled the wheel 77 rightward to ease the van to a stop only a few hundred yards from where Jason and Emily had joined them, and had twisted about to explain why. T hen he and Emmanuel left Jason and Emily in the van while they waded in knee-high vegetation along the road, beating at it with lengths of broom handle. In the light from the van, the men were very tall and thin. Jacob wore a long-sleeved white shirt and khaki trousers, and Emmanuel , black slacks and a red shirt with black patterns on it. T heir heads, closely cropped, seemed almost too small for their lanky frames. T he way the men moved through the grass, bending as they flailed it, seemed faintly tribal and mysterious . Each carried a trash sack and from time to time stooped to bag an item. "Why are they using those sticks?" asked Emily. "Snakes, I guess." "What're they looking for?" "You're sitting on it." "Cans? Why?" " I guess they sell them." "You can sell old drink cans? How much?" " I dunno. It varies, I guess. Ask them." Emily crawled over Jason and groped in the dark for the latch. \Vhen the door swung open, the air was cool and sweet from the field beyond a barbed-wire fence. She climbed out and stood. She looked back at him. "Aren't you going to ask them?" " I need to pee." "Now?" " I have for a long time. I can't wait any longer." "So go pee." "\Vhere?" "Go behind. In the road." "What if somebody comes along?" "You'll have time to move." " I don't want to go in the road. It might splatter on my shoes." 7. "So go in the ditch over there on that side." " It's too dark. I don't know what's there." " Probably just rats and snakes and spiders having themselves a creepy critters ball, that's all." "Shut up!" The men had ventured to the far border of the light and were standing close to examine something held between them. "You want me to go with you?" "Yes. " "\Vhat's it worth to you?" He was only kidding-was already untangling his legs from under his hams and was seeking a grip on the back of the front seat to boost himself-but Emily said, in earnest, " Five dollars ." "Your money's no good in this establishment. I'll do it for you out of the goodness of my heart." They walked in the shadow of the vehicle to the far shoulder of the road. Emily insisted that he tromp down a patch of grass just off the asphalt, and he chanted, "Snakes and toads, spiders and hiders! Scat and git! Be gone with thee!" as he stomped out a circle, then he...