Oh Pure and Radiant Heart by Lydia Millet (shoe dog free ebook .txt) 📕

—Did you talk to Robert, Leo? asked Ann.

—They put him on for about ten seconds.

—What did he say? Is he OK?

—He said he was out of cigarettes.

—I got kidnapped once, said Larry. —Back when I was a kid. They just want the money. It’s no big deal. I ate Tootsie Rolls the whole time.

The bus door swung open. It was Ben and Fermi.

Neither of them spoke until Ann broke the ice.

—Hi, honey, she said. —Some kids have kidnapped Robert.

The motorcycles led the way, two abreast in more rows than Ann could count from the front of the bus. Flags rippled off their back seats, stars and stripes, black-and-white banners for MIAs/POWs, and several skulls-and-crossbones. On the shoulders of the road were the ATVs, bringing up dirt. Behind the Harleys and Yamahas came the trucks with their outsize camper shells and the cars towing their Airstreams and ATVs behind them, the Vanagons and VW buses and clunkers decorated with political graffiti and banners, the ragged open jeeps and gleaming SUVs.

In her sockfeet she padded to the back to look out the rear window and saw the hulking charter buses behind them.

—I can’t believe the kids agreed to meet us at the casino, said Ben under his breath to her when she got to the front again, leaning in close to her on the bench. —They must be morons.

Behind them at the kitchen table Szilard was typing on his laptop, listening to the BBC World Service on a loud radio and talking on his cell phone at the same time. Fermi was sleeping in a sleeping bag in the corner and Big Glen, Larry, and Tamika were hunched over a card table playing gin rummy.

—Did Larry call the cops?

—Szilard convinced him not to. They’re just going to pay the ransom. Larry doesn’t care.

—And after that?

—Szilard wants to drive to Washington D.C.

—What is that, three thousand miles? What’s the point?

—What do you think? Campaign publicity. They’ll be holding protests and media events along the way.

—When Fermi asked him about the exhumation Szilard barely listened. He’s turned into a megalomaniac.

—What he is is a child, she said.

—Ann? What he is is an asshole.

Larry packed up his marijuana and lay with his head on Tamika’s bare stomach, sucking on a grape popsicle. Ben watched Big Glen lay out a game of solitaire on a card table beside them, a task he performed slowly and with great care. He was wearing a kerchief tied around his head.

Ann had said he was a pacifist, but Ben did not believe it. The guy had scabs on his knuckles.

—Wackenhut, Larry? You gotta be kidding, said Szilard, hanging up his cell phone.

—What do you mean? asked Larry.

—That’s who you hired to take care of us? Those people are the enemy!

—Not when we’re paying them.

—Isn’t it a conflict of interest or anything?

—I don’t think so, said Larry. —I mean, they do what they’re told. They’re security.

—They’re thugs. We should not support that corporation. Or while we’re at it, Larry, why don’t we just go ahead and send Raytheon a fruit basket.

—OK Leo. If you want to book security yourself, feel free. Just call 411.

—I don’t have time for those details, grumbled Szilard. —Ann. Can you do it?

—No she can’t, said Ben, and then quietly to Ann, —Let’s just take the car off the trailer hitch and get the hell out of here. Fermi’s begging me. Don’t you want to go?

—That’s not what I meant by save me, she whispered back. —Oppenheimer’s been kidnapped—

—By teenagers!

—and you want me to leave? You know that’s not what I meant! I need to be here, I have to see it through.

—What is through? Follow these idiots around for the rest of our lives like groupies with nothing better to do?

—Don’t be like that, OK? I just don’t want to be useless. I want something to do.

He looked at her for a few seconds, her blandly stubborn face.

—Now you’re pissing me off, he said, and got up and walked to the back of the bus, to where Fermi was sitting fumbling with his shaving kit.

When Ben sat down beside him he pulled out a bottle of Ibuprofen and struggled with the childproof lid.

—It is very annoying, he grumbled.

—I’ll get it, said Ben. As he lifted the lid off the bus turned sharply and pills flew onto the carpet. —Damn!

—Look there! said Fermi. —It is a truck stop named Love.

Ben knelt on the carpet gathering pills as the bus pulled jerkily up to the gas pump. Motorcyclists putted around them, a jagged frenzy of noise.

In the truck stop convenience store Ann found Dory puzzling over a dazzling array of beef jerky. Her hair was greasy and there was a pen stuck behind her ear. Without her laptop or microphone she looked lost.

—I wouldn’t get the Spicy Hot Texan BBQ if I were you.

—Ann! Do you think they’re hurting him?

—I think he’s going to be fine.

Dory flushed behind her glasses.

—He’s just, you know. Such an intellect.

They browsed beside each other along the rows of gum and novelty candy, edible necklaces, gummy bears, gummy fish, gummy worms. Behind them Clint and Ken stocked up on caffeine-loaded energy drinks and planned for their rendezvous with the kidnappers.

—Should we take tasers with us?

—What are those, like stun guns?

—Non-lethal weaponry. In case the kids try something.

—You’re kidding, right? said Ann, glaring at them. When they ignored her she turned back to Dory. —I didn’t know you were coming with us.

—I decided at the last minute. I have to admit I was, you know, worried about Robert. I mean he really misses his wife. Kitty? I’m so sorry for him.

—So then—you believe he is who he claims to be?

—I’m not here to make judgments, said Dory. —I’m a social scientist! I’m just here to observe and record.

—So you’re sorry he lost his wife but you don’t believe he lost his wife?

—I’m sure that he lost something. He’s lonely.

Ann stared at her from the side as she placed her items