announced.
"You're kidding me," Needles said. "Fifteen minutes ago I watched you down five beef n' cheese burritos, two sides of beans, and a boatload of chips."
Beeks thought about that for a moment. "I only had one thing of beans," he said, "and them burritos was plain – no fuckin' cheese."
"How would you know? The whole meal only lasted thirty seconds."
"Yeah ... well, I know one thing, motherfucker, you're wrong about what I ate, and I'm fuckin' hungry."
"That's two things, dumbass. And I'm never wrong."
"The hell you ain't."
Needles paused, then said thoughtfully, "Yeah, well, I thought I was wrong once ... but it turned out I was right. So, I guess I was wrong about that."
"Fuck you."
"Well, I'm not stopping again."
"I'm starving, and you could give a shit," Beeks said.
"Doesn't your wife ever feed you?"
"No."
"So why'd you marry her?"
"Does your wife feed you?"
"She would if I had one."
"Kiss my ass."
---
Johnny Souther hated to be cold, an obsession he picked up after many chilly years in Northern prisons, and his men were instructed to keep the cannery furnace firing full blast. The heat came from radiators supplied by steam from a natural-gas-fired boiler, as the city had neglected to shut off the gas when condemning the building. The current boiler, housed in a brick-and-mortar boiler house attached to the rear of the cannery in the area of the shipping yard, was installed as part of the 1907 reconstruction following the accident that destroyed it in 1905.
Needles and Beeks entered the boiler house struggling with the dead-weight of their load. Beeks had the shoulders and Needles the feet.
"I got the heavy fuckin' half," Beeks grunted.
"Like hell you did," Needles said, gritting his teeth.
The huge welded-steel replacement boiler (converted from coal to gas in 1965), was 17 feet long and six feet in diameter and nearly filled the space. Years of greasy soot clung to every surface and caulked every crevice. Shafts of firelight flashed through the boiler-oven's vent slots, generating brilliant patterns on the blackened brick walls.
The thugs dropped the body in front of the furnace, creating plumes of ash. Beeks yanked on the lever and when he pulled the massive cast-iron door open a blast of super-heated air knocked them both back a step.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Beeks exclaimed, feeling his forehead. "I think I'm missing a damn eyebrow."
"As if you had any to begin with," Needles said.
"Bite me," Beeks said.
They hefted the body again and shuffled up to the brink of the inferno.
"Let's get it right this time," Needles said, turning his face away from the heat of the flames. "I don't want a repeat of the last horror show."
Beeks nodded – he remembered it well. They had muffed the toss and the corpse had landed half in and half out of the roaring furnace; and by the time they managed to stuff the rest of the body inside and shut the door, the sight and smell of it had nearly killed them both.
Needles called the count: "On three, ready? One ... two ... heave! "
Chapter 19
Sun-dried Squid
The thugs showed Ashley's picture to everyone they met: shop owners, passers by, vagrants, motel clerks.
The trail led them to an all-night gas station located out on the old highway, west of town. Needles pulled off onto the muddy drive, then rolled the van's front tires up against a railroad tie and killed the engine.
Beeks thought they'd arrived in the Old West: the hitching rails; the wagon wheels; the ancient, glass-top fuel pump out front. Needles marveled that the property was wired for electricity.
They glanced at each other then stepped
"You're kidding me," Needles said. "Fifteen minutes ago I watched you down five beef n' cheese burritos, two sides of beans, and a boatload of chips."
Beeks thought about that for a moment. "I only had one thing of beans," he said, "and them burritos was plain – no fuckin' cheese."
"How would you know? The whole meal only lasted thirty seconds."
"Yeah ... well, I know one thing, motherfucker, you're wrong about what I ate, and I'm fuckin' hungry."
"That's two things, dumbass. And I'm never wrong."
"The hell you ain't."
Needles paused, then said thoughtfully, "Yeah, well, I thought I was wrong once ... but it turned out I was right. So, I guess I was wrong about that."
"Fuck you."
"Well, I'm not stopping again."
"I'm starving, and you could give a shit," Beeks said.
"Doesn't your wife ever feed you?"
"No."
"So why'd you marry her?"
"Does your wife feed you?"
"She would if I had one."
"Kiss my ass."
---
Johnny Souther hated to be cold, an obsession he picked up after many chilly years in Northern prisons, and his men were instructed to keep the cannery furnace firing full blast. The heat came from radiators supplied by steam from a natural-gas-fired boiler, as the city had neglected to shut off the gas when condemning the building. The current boiler, housed in a brick-and-mortar boiler house attached to the rear of the cannery in the area of the shipping yard, was installed as part of the 1907 reconstruction following the accident that destroyed it in 1905.
Needles and Beeks entered the boiler house struggling with the dead-weight of their load. Beeks had the shoulders and Needles the feet.
"I got the heavy fuckin' half," Beeks grunted.
"Like hell you did," Needles said, gritting his teeth.
The huge welded-steel replacement boiler (converted from coal to gas in 1965), was 17 feet long and six feet in diameter and nearly filled the space. Years of greasy soot clung to every surface and caulked every crevice. Shafts of firelight flashed through the boiler-oven's vent slots, generating brilliant patterns on the blackened brick walls.
The thugs dropped the body in front of the furnace, creating plumes of ash. Beeks yanked on the lever and when he pulled the massive cast-iron door open a blast of super-heated air knocked them both back a step.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Beeks exclaimed, feeling his forehead. "I think I'm missing a damn eyebrow."
"As if you had any to begin with," Needles said.
"Bite me," Beeks said.
They hefted the body again and shuffled up to the brink of the inferno.
"Let's get it right this time," Needles said, turning his face away from the heat of the flames. "I don't want a repeat of the last horror show."
Beeks nodded – he remembered it well. They had muffed the toss and the corpse had landed half in and half out of the roaring furnace; and by the time they managed to stuff the rest of the body inside and shut the door, the sight and smell of it had nearly killed them both.
Needles called the count: "On three, ready? One ... two ... heave! "
Chapter 19
Sun-dried Squid
The thugs showed Ashley's picture to everyone they met: shop owners, passers by, vagrants, motel clerks.
The trail led them to an all-night gas station located out on the old highway, west of town. Needles pulled off onto the muddy drive, then rolled the van's front tires up against a railroad tie and killed the engine.
Beeks thought they'd arrived in the Old West: the hitching rails; the wagon wheels; the ancient, glass-top fuel pump out front. Needles marveled that the property was wired for electricity.
They glanced at each other then stepped
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