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Authors: James W. Hall
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back, and before you know it that loose end has wrapped itself around your throat and you’re hanging from it.”
“It was a whale, not a great white shark. Ahab and his whale.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s a book about whales.”
“I been saying it wrong all this time?”
“You’re thinking about Jaws, that’s the one with the shark.”
“Ahab and his whale,” X said. “Well, thank you.”
“Look.” Tina put her hand on her heart. “I swear on my mother’s grave I won’t say a word, never, ever.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that part’s over, we’re finished with it, okay?” X looked up at the dark sky, easing into this. “So listen, Tina, you familiar with ‘gavage,’ the word?”
Since she seemed confused he spelled it for her.
She drew back, eyes tightened as if peering at him from a great distance.
“Before Raiford, I didn’t know it either. What it means is force-feeding. You know, how they handle a prisoner on hunger strike, jam a tube down his throat. And how they do ducks and geese to fatten them up for foie gras. Gorge, that’s the literal meaning.”
“Look, I know what,” she said. “You got a cell phone. Let me call Cruz, talk to her. At least let me do that. Maybe you misunderstood something, she can straighten it out.”
“Tina, Tina. Don’t you hear me? Cruz isn’t here. This is you and me. We’ve moved on. We’re done haggling. Look around you, look at the sky overhead, the stars, take it in. It’s time to say good-bye to all this.”
“No, no, you’re a good man, you’re good. Please.”
They always said please. Every one of them. Please, please. Like if you got polite, made nice, the abracadabra word they’d learned when they were kids, that would set them free. Please, pretty please. Never once had X-88 said the word, not in his entire life. Never heard it in his house growing up. Lots of other words, but not “please.”
“Oh, mother of Christ.” Tina looked away into the dark woods, swallowing again, buying a few seconds, then in a defeated voice said, “Look, do this for me, at least do this. Will you? Tell Sugarman something, will you?”
X was quiet, waiting for her.
“Tell him I meant no harm. Cruz came, I told her what I knew, the postcards Thorn gets. She offered money if I’d help. I needed it. My shop, I’m bankrupt, can’t pay my lease. Tell Sugar, okay? Will you? I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. Tell him I love him. That’s the truth. Tell him that for me, I love him, I really do. Will you do that for me?”
“If I meet up with him, sure, I’ll repeat every word of that speech. Now, you ready for this, or you going to talk some more?”
“Oh, holy Christ.”
With his left hand he clutched Tina’s hair and rocked her head back. She fought him, twisting side to side, but X outmuscled her, got her still.
“Think of this as drowning,” he said to her. “Everybody says drowning isn’t such a bad way to go. So this is drowning, only not in water.”
Using his free hand, he dug out the three hamburger patties.
He balled up the meat one-handed and crammed it into Tina’s mouth. When most of it was inside, he clamped his hand over her lips.
Tina gagged, snorted, tried to bite the palm of his hand. But X held his hand firm against her flailing, plugging up her airway to a count of ten, to a count of twenty.
When he felt her weakening, he released her hair, pinched her nose shut, cradled her in the crook of his arm like a waltz partner until Tina’s struggling slowed and she grew still. Her weight slumping against him.
That’s the technique Manny Obrero taught him at Raiford finishing school, the hands-on, natural way to keep the target from howling for help. Brutal and simple. Steal something solid from the cafeteria, ball it up, back the target in a corner, no tools, no blade. A mouth packed with food, keep the lips shut. A reverse Heimlich. Manny liked to say killing this way sent a message to the
“It was a whale, not a great white shark. Ahab and his whale.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s a book about whales.”
“I been saying it wrong all this time?”
“You’re thinking about Jaws, that’s the one with the shark.”
“Ahab and his whale,” X said. “Well, thank you.”
“Look.” Tina put her hand on her heart. “I swear on my mother’s grave I won’t say a word, never, ever.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that part’s over, we’re finished with it, okay?” X looked up at the dark sky, easing into this. “So listen, Tina, you familiar with ‘gavage,’ the word?”
Since she seemed confused he spelled it for her.
She drew back, eyes tightened as if peering at him from a great distance.
“Before Raiford, I didn’t know it either. What it means is force-feeding. You know, how they handle a prisoner on hunger strike, jam a tube down his throat. And how they do ducks and geese to fatten them up for foie gras. Gorge, that’s the literal meaning.”
“Look, I know what,” she said. “You got a cell phone. Let me call Cruz, talk to her. At least let me do that. Maybe you misunderstood something, she can straighten it out.”
“Tina, Tina. Don’t you hear me? Cruz isn’t here. This is you and me. We’ve moved on. We’re done haggling. Look around you, look at the sky overhead, the stars, take it in. It’s time to say good-bye to all this.”
“No, no, you’re a good man, you’re good. Please.”
They always said please. Every one of them. Please, please. Like if you got polite, made nice, the abracadabra word they’d learned when they were kids, that would set them free. Please, pretty please. Never once had X-88 said the word, not in his entire life. Never heard it in his house growing up. Lots of other words, but not “please.”
“Oh, mother of Christ.” Tina looked away into the dark woods, swallowing again, buying a few seconds, then in a defeated voice said, “Look, do this for me, at least do this. Will you? Tell Sugarman something, will you?”
X was quiet, waiting for her.
“Tell him I meant no harm. Cruz came, I told her what I knew, the postcards Thorn gets. She offered money if I’d help. I needed it. My shop, I’m bankrupt, can’t pay my lease. Tell Sugar, okay? Will you? I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. Tell him I love him. That’s the truth. Tell him that for me, I love him, I really do. Will you do that for me?”
“If I meet up with him, sure, I’ll repeat every word of that speech. Now, you ready for this, or you going to talk some more?”
“Oh, holy Christ.”
With his left hand he clutched Tina’s hair and rocked her head back. She fought him, twisting side to side, but X outmuscled her, got her still.
“Think of this as drowning,” he said to her. “Everybody says drowning isn’t such a bad way to go. So this is drowning, only not in water.”
Using his free hand, he dug out the three hamburger patties.
He balled up the meat one-handed and crammed it into Tina’s mouth. When most of it was inside, he clamped his hand over her lips.
Tina gagged, snorted, tried to bite the palm of his hand. But X held his hand firm against her flailing, plugging up her airway to a count of ten, to a count of twenty.
When he felt her weakening, he released her hair, pinched her nose shut, cradled her in the crook of his arm like a waltz partner until Tina’s struggling slowed and she grew still. Her weight slumping against him.
That’s the technique Manny Obrero taught him at Raiford finishing school, the hands-on, natural way to keep the target from howling for help. Brutal and simple. Steal something solid from the cafeteria, ball it up, back the target in a corner, no tools, no blade. A mouth packed with food, keep the lips shut. A reverse Heimlich. Manny liked to say killing this way sent a message to the
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