Denton - 03 - Way Past Dead Read Online Free Page A

another minute or so, and when everybody started repeating themselves, Lonnie hit the mute button.
    “Want another one?” Lonnie held up his empty beer can.
    “No. Too tired. I’ve still got to drive home. Guess I ought to stop at Marsha’s first and make sure her place is okay.”
    Lonnie got up and walked over to the refrigerator andswung the door open. The inside light chiseled ridges on his face while the blue flickering from the television danced on his back.
    “You ever get the feeling the world’s going to hell?” I asked. My eyes burned and my mind became a muddled blur. I thought of Marsha, murdered cabdrivers, slaughtered convenience-store clerks. All innocent people just trying to eke out a living.
    “It’s like a disease. Random chaos, violence. Where’d it come from?”
    Lonnie smiled and shook his head, like
boy, are you dense
.… He walked over past me and picked up the television remote control, then pressed a couple of buttons and the picture changed to an old black-and-white film of GIs spraying napalm out of a flamethrower into a cave. A second or so later, some poor soul comes sprinting out, a ball of flame doing the hundred-yard dash to death, then collapses in a burning heap.
    “Channel Twenty-six,” Lonnie said. “The War Channel, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. All you can stand.”
    I stared at him for a moment. “There has to be a point here somewhere.”
    Lonnie dropped the remote control on the top of the television, then flopped down in his chair. “You think we win wars because we’re
good
, man? You think we whip ass everywhere because freaking God’s on
our
side, and not on the other guy’s? That somehow we’re
righteous …”
    He threw a leg over the side of the chair and took a long swallow of the beer. “Hell, no. We won the war because we are the single most meanest motherthumpers in the world. We even beat the snot out of the Japanese and the Germans, who up until they pissed us off were themselves the meanest motherthumpers in the world. I mean, these people gave us the Rape of Nan-king and the Holocaust, for God’s sake, and we pummeledthem into slop. You think we did that ’cause we’re the nice guys?”
    “That’s different, man. It’s not the same.”
    “Isn’t it?” He leaned back, the can of beer cradled in his hands. “Violence is America, man. Just ask the Indians. See what they think of us. It’s genetic, encoded in the DNA. It’s where we’re from. It’s who we are.”
    “I don’t believe that,” I said. “That’s lunacy.”
    “So who’s arguing? Of course it’s lunacy. It’s also reality.…” His voice trailed off.
    I stood up, suddenly very tired of Lonnie. I didn’t know whether it was his preaching, or the message he was delivering. Either way, I needed some air. “It’s late. I’ve got to go.”
    “Yeah,” he said, staring ahead at the television.
    “Thanks for the loan of the van.”
    “No charge.”
    “I filled up the tank.”
    “Thanks.”
    I stood there a second, then stepped over and opened the door. “Lonnie,” I said, turning back to him, “I’m really worried about her.”
    “I know you are, man. Just hang in there. She’ll be okay. She’s a tough lady.”
    “Thanks, buddy. Get some sleep. See you.”
    “Yeah, you, too,” Lonnie said without getting up. “Watch yourself.”
    As I stepped out into the darkness Lonnie turned the sound up on the television. I walked across the parking lot to my car, accompanied by the whistle of bombs dropping fifty years ago.

So who needs sleep, right? I took a long shower, slid under the covers, and tried to fade out. Every time I thought I was going to drop off, road rushed at me again, as if the vision of white-lined asphalt rolling by had been tattooed on my retinas.
    This day had started out so well. The badly needed cash the videotape would score took second place to my perseverance. I’d hung in there and beaten the guy! He’d rolled that damn