What Came After Read Online Free Page B

it in a fair fight any day of the week. He asked what the world had come to, and nobody had an answer.
    He slid out and lowered the car and opened the driver’s door to let Carmichael in. Closed it after him and stood right up close watching. Watching him press the clutch pedal. Watching him put the key in the ignition and turn it and listening to the engine come to life. Taking satisfaction in the whole operation. “Go on, put it into gear now,” he said, loud through the shut window. “Everybody step back. Get away from those tires. There’s going to be mud everywhere.”
    Carmichael let the clutch out hard and the SUV lurched forward once and died shuddering. He looked at Weller through the window, sheepish. Pressed a button and put it down. “Go easy,” Weller said. “Try feathering that a little more. You burn out your clutch between here and Boston, you’ll be out of luck.” Carmichael took the criticism all right. It was the truth. Weller stepped away and he started the engine again and revved it and worked the clutch with a little more patience this time. The SUV started forward and he turned the wheel and it went on up the little hill and onto the shoulder of the road, the way it was supposed to. Like it could go anywhere. Peter clapped his hands with relief and little Penny clapped her hands with delight and Weller hollered up the hill, “You treat that properly now, and it’ll last you forever.” Heading on up in the tracks of the SUV. Everybody else following.
    Carmichael had climbed out when he got to the shoulder, alongside the car and as happy as anyone had ever seen him. Standing there in the wind from a passing truck with Peter’s old Polaroid camera in his hand as if he’d won a prize. “We’d better commemorate this occasion,” he said. Handing the camera to Liz and showing her where to look into it and which button to press and then going around to the front of the car. Weller took Penny by the hand and followed, keeping himself between his daughter and the highway. Carmichael took up a stance with one hand on the high garish yellow hood and his son at his side, in the pose of a great hunter or somebody in a formal portrait. Seeing him there like that, the mechanic sat down on the bumper with Penny on his knee. Properly respectful for once. For the record at least.
    Liz snapped a picture and jumped when it rolled out of the Polaroid. It dropped to the ground and she picked it up and watched the image begin to materialize. Taking a half step toward Carmichael. He raised a finger to her and said, “One more. One more for you people who’ve treated us so kindly.” Bending at the knees and shifting into a sitting position alongside Weller. Lifting his own child to his own knee, because you couldn’t set a bad precedent with somebody you’d never see again.
    Everybody smiled. Liz pressed the shutter and handed him the picture and he held it out at arm’s length to let it develop. So everyone could watch. A weirdly satisfying miracle in slow motion. At a certain point the image on it had resolved just enough to look the way the whole world looked to Penny, but no one could say exactly when. Only her father and mother even wondered.
    When the picture was done Carmichael signed it. Signed it big like it was something they’d want to tack up on the wall. Thought again and felt generous and wrote “IOU” on it in big letters while he was at it. Right up in the blue sky. He gave the picture to Weller and shook his hand and told him he could take that to the bank if he could find a bank. Ha ha. His signature was as good as cash money. Better than that. As good as that famous red white and blue AmeriBank scrip. Weller put the photograph in the pocket of his coveralls and then it was over. Father and son climbing in and slamming the doors and neither of them waving or at least not visibly through that smoked glass. Just Carmichael hitting the gas and opening the sunroof wide and Peter keeping