“The kid you burned to death? You did it just because he got into your stash?”
“Yeah, an object lesson,” Darrel replied.
“How old was he?”
“How should I know?” he said. “That’s not your business, anyway.” He kicked me behind the knee and sent me tumbling to the ground.
I had to help Jo Anne get to Henri’s backpack, but I didn’t know how.
“I don’t want to watch this, Henri,” she said.
“Then don’t watch it,” Darrel said.
She sniffed and rubbed her nose with her hand. “I’m coming down with a cold.”
“Will you get her out of here?” Darrel said to Henri.
The sky lit up again. I thought I saw Spud and Cotton at the edge of the clearing. Darrel followed my line of sight. I was on my knees now. I started to stand. He took the Luger from Henri and chopped the butt down on my head. I felt like something had torn loose inside my skull. But I was on one knee now and still rising to my feet.
“Help me get him on the fire, Marvin!” Darrel said. “He’s been the problem from the start! Grab his ankles!”
“I think we should talk this over,” Marvin said. “I’m just the bus driver. I didn’t do any of the killing here. No, sir, that’s not my bag.”
“You poured gasoline on that kid.”
“I thought it was just to scare him.”
“You want to take Broussard’s place?”
“I think I’m going back to work at the Orange Julius in Portland. I was up for assistant manager.”
Darrel knocked me to the ground again and went behind the bus and returned with a can of gasoline. He jerked the plug from the spout and showered gasoline on my head and face and clothes, then tossed the empty can in the fire. He watched the metal blacken and fold in on itself. Then he pointed the Luger at Henri. “Pick him up, Professor.”
Henri lifted his hands, palms out, his eyes lowered, like a peacemaker. “This isn’t the way to go, Darrel. Aaron is a smart guy. There’re ways to work it out.”
“I always knew you were a yellowbelly,” Darrel said. He turned toward Jo Anne. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Bring me a can of Bud,” he said.
I tried again to get to my feet, but Darrel placed his foot between my shoulder blades and shoved me down once more. I saw Jo Anne bend down over the backpack, then step off the vestibule. She pointed the .38 at Darrel with both hands, her arms straight out.
The kids on the bus followed her out. Those already outside had formed a huge semicircle around the clearing, their faces a study in shadow and firelight. They made me think of the children in Jo Anne’s paintings.
“Put your pistol on the ground, Darrel,” she said.
“I think I’ll keep it,” he replied.
“I’ll have to shoot you.”
“How about giving me some head before you do?”
I saw her trying to pull back the hammer. She had told me she knew nothing about guns. I believed her. Where were Spud and Cotton?
“Jo Anne, put your gun down,” Henri said. “Darrel will kill you.”
“Shut up, Henri,” Darrel said. “This is between me and her.” He worked a butane lighter out of his watch pocket. “I’m going to set Broussard on fire. What do you say to that, Jo Anne?”