The Speculist

Raymond sighed.

“I don’t want yucky tomato. Is there any tuna fish?”

“Plenty,” said Lucinda. “And there’s Miracle Whip and celery and sweet relish in the fridge if you want to make tuna salad. But we’re out of bread.”

Raymond grunted with disgust.

“No bread? How am I supposed to eat it if there’s no bread?”

“You could have it al fresco,” said Lucinda.

“Al fresco? Eat tuna fish right out of the bowl? Mi scusi, no.”

“Are there any crackers left?” asked Lucinda.

“Not the big ones,” said Bettina. “Just oyster crackers.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Raymond. “Tuna fish on crackers would be double-yuck. Possibly triple. Does anybody have any money?”

Robert, who was sitting next to Bettina turned up from the book he was reading.

“I have two dollars and some change,” he said. He thought for a moment. “Forty-seven cents,” he added.

“Molto bene! Benissimo!,” said Raymond.

“Let’s drop the Italian,” said Lucinda.

“You started it. Robert, how about you and I take a stroll to the market for some bread?”

“The market is closed,” said Bettina. “It’s after eight.”

“So? We could go to the Super King. It stays open until at least eleven.”

Lucinda laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The super King is at least a mile and half from here. If you’re that hungry, why not open a can of Chicken and Stars?”

“Quadruple, quintuple, sextuple, etc., ad infinitum, yuck.”

“I thought you liked soup,” said Bettina.

Raymond nodded.

“I do. I like vegetable beef and beanie-weenie. Anyway, a mile and half isn’t so far. It’s only bad if you have to walk it.”

Robert looked puzzled.

“What choice do you have besides walking? Are you thinking about taking the bus? I don’t think $2.47 will get you there and back in a cab, not if you plan to buy a loaf of bread.”

“Yeah, Rob, but think — why take a bus or cab when we have a perfectly serviceable vehicle just sitting out back not doing anybody any good?”

Bettina gasped.

“You’re kidding, right?” she said.

“I am not. Now that we’re in charge around here, we have to make use of what we’ve got. The car is part of the home. If we need bread, I say we take it to get some bread.”

Estelle, who had been sitting quietly in the little brown chair, apparently paying more attention to her elaborate needlepoint project than to the conversation, now looked up.

“But he answered and said, ‘It is written, man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God’.”

Raymond shook his head.

“Estelle, I know you have a limited repertoire and all, but that is really beside the point.”

She glared at him.

“Pride goeth before destruction,” she said. “And an haughty spirit before a fall.”

“I do not have an haughty spirit. I just want a stupid sandwich. Besides, where did that come from? I thought you could just do New Testament.”

“No,” said Lucinda. “The Bible that she and…that she was reading had the Psalms and Proverbs as well.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” said Raymond. “I guess it’s too bad it wasn’t the whole thing.”

Estelle nodded.

“It’s all right,” said Lucinda. “I’m sure Corey will figure out how to fix things eventually.”

“That’s right,” Raymond agreed. “And if he can’t, Todd and Judy will. Or even Lucy-Lu, here.”

Lucinda smiled at the use of Grace’s pet name for her.

“Everything will be fine,” she said.

Estelle nodded again.

“Exactly,” said Raymond. “And meanwhile, life goes on. So what do you say, Robert? Do you want to go for a little drive?”

“That is out of the question,” said Lucinda.

“Why?”

“First, you don’t know how to drive. Second, you do not have a driver’s license, and the station wagon is not insured for anything that might happen while you’re driving it. Third, and most importantly, you don’t have the keys.”

Raymond smiled.

“Your first point is incorrect. Even before Corey started helping me out — but certainly since then — I have paid very close attention whenever I watched…somebody…anybody…drive. I know everything there is to know about how to operate that car. Your second point is entirely irrelevant. If we’re going to get all sticky about legal technicalities, we should be on the phone with the police and social services right now. We should just turn ourselves in. Right?”

He stood up.

“As for your third point,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “looky here what I found.”

He held up the keys to the car.

Lucinda stood up.

“Where did you get those?” she asked.

“Hanging on a hook in the pantry. Right where they’ve always been, for those of us who were paying attention.”

“Give them to me, Raymond.”

“I don’t think so. I’m going for a drive.”

“Come on, Ray,” said Bettina. “You know you’re not supposed to drive the car.”

“Who says I’m not? Todd? Judy? I’ve already waited here for them all day and packed my bag like a good little soldier. They don’t tell me what to do. Nobody does. I’m the oldest person here.”

“Nobody’s telling you what to do, Raymond,” said Lucinda. “But be reasonable. Taking the car out would subject you and the rest of us to a needless risk. As you pointed out, we aren’t calling the police and announcing ourselves to them. Why engage in activities that risk exposing us to them?”

“I don’t see that there’s any risk. I’ll drive carefully. Teenagers drive all over this town all the time. Nobody knows me, so nobody knows that I’m underage.”

“Ray, I don’t like waiting here any more than you do,” said Bettina. “I think it’s unfair that Todd and Judy and Lucinda make their plans and don’t tell us what’s happening. But for now we have to wait here. We all need to stick together.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour. Less. Rob, are you coming with me?”

Robert, who had returned to his book, seeming to take no particular interest in the entire exchange, looked up again.

“Is there anything I or anyone else can say that will talk you out of this lunacy?”

Raymond shook his head.

“I just want a sandwich,” he said.

“All right,” said Robert, closing his book. “I’ll go with you.”

“Robert,” said Lucinda, “you must be joking. You know this is crazy.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, no. None of us should be venturing out of the house right now. But if we are going to do it, we certainly shouldn’t be doing it alone.”

“Raymond,” said Lucinda, “what is the matter with you? Why do you want to drag Robert into this?”

Raymond put the keys in his pocket.

“I don’t know, I guess being brought back from the dead makes me hungry. You’re all making a mountain out of a molehill. Come on, Rob.”

He started towards the kitchen and the back door. Lucinda looked at Robert.

“Don’t go,” she said.

Robert put his book down and stood up.

“I’ll try to keep him out of trouble,” he said.

___

Raymond turned the key in the ignition and touched his foot to the gas pedal. The engine started. He stepped on the accelerator to rev it just slightly and keep it from dying cold. He was certain he had seen this done many times, and it was a bit unsettling to observe that he couldn’t remember who he had seen do it.

He knew that it was important to rev the motor for a while before putting the old green station wagon in gear. He used the time to adjust the rear and side mirrors to his liking. This proved more difficult than he had expected; it wasn’t obvious to him exactly what should be framed in his backward views. He concluded that it would become clear in the process of driving, and he would have to make some adjustments along the way. This was not the first time he had been in the driver’s seat — he had practiced many times in the past. It was, however, the first time he had ever needed to reach the pedals and have a good grip on the steering wheel and look out the windshield and see what was happening behind the car all at the same time. More importantly, it was the first time he had ever been there with the engine running.

He turned and looked at Robert.

“Let’s skip the radio this time, okay?”

Robert nodded.

“You probably don’t need the distraction,” he said.

“That’s for sure.”

In the past, there had been many prolonged discussions (often extending far beyond the actual duration of the trip) about what should or should not be played on the car radio.

“See?” said Raymond. “No girls, no problems.”

Robert shook his head.

“I think the boys argue about the radio as much as the girls,” he said.

Raymond sighed, annoyed. He put his foot on the brake and took hold of the gear shift, which extended from the steering column. He pulled down on it, finding that he had to apply more force than he would have expected. The motion was not as fluid as he had imagined.

“Having trouble?” asked Robert.

“No. It feels different than it looks, that’s all.”

“Yeah.”

Raymond moved his foot from the brake to the accelerator. The car began backing out of the driveway. He turned the wheel, slightly at first, angling the car more sharply as he backed it into the alley. He hit the brake abruptly.

“You’ll want to watch out for that telephone pole,” said Robert.

“No kidding. I have to get used to the feel of the steering. It takes a minute.”

“That’s okay. You learn fast.”

Raymond put the car into drive and started very slowly down the alley.

“Headlights,” said Robert.

“I know,” Raymond answered, annoyed. He found the switch and turned them on. The alley lit up before them.

“I think that’s the high-beam setting,” said Robert.

Raymond sighed with exasperation. He stopped the car and began looking around the dashboard. He fiddled with the light switch, but that didn’t do anything.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a button on the floor,” said Robert. “You push it with your foot.”

Raymond explored the floorboard with his foot. Finding nothing, he scooted himself forward in the driver’s seat and tried again. He found the button. The alley suddenly went dim.

“Good,” said Robert. “See what I mean? You learn fast.”

Raymond grinned.

“Say, Rob, how come we never did this before?”

“Because you never went crazy and stole the car before.”

Raymond brought the car to a stop as they reached the end of the alley. The street was dark and utterly deserted.

“No, not that. You know what I mean. How come we never did anything together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we did and we don’t remember. Or maybe it’s because we only became friends after Corey showed up.”

Raymond nodded.

“That’s true,” he said, “but I think there’s something else.”

“Yeah,” the younger boy agreed. “There was something else. We didn’t spend much time together because we were busy spending time with other people.”

“I wish I could remember something. Anything. It’s like I want to miss them, but I can’t even remember what there is to miss.”

“I know. But maybe it’s like with Estelle. Maybe Corey can fix it.”

“Do you really think he can?”

Robert shrugged.

“I’m not sure. But he’s a fast learner, too.”

Raymond slowly drove the car out into the empty street.

“Can I ask you something?” said Robert.

“Shoot.”

“What was it like?”

Raymond didn’t look over. He kept driving, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Being dead, you mean?” he said after a moment.

Robert nodded.

“I don’t remember.”

They rode along in silence for a while.

“I hope I never do,” he added.

___

“We can afford it. It’s only 35 cents,” said Raymond.

The boys stood in the only open check-out lane, behind a couple buying three cartloads of canned food. There had been warnings on TV all day that hoarding of food wouldn’t be tolerated, but apparently the manager of the Super King wasn’t watching. The shelves of the supermarket were well picked-over. Raymond had grabbed one of the last few loaves of bread.

Robert shook his head.

“You’re forgetting about the State sales tax. Six percent.”

“I’m not forgetting. It doesn’t apply to the groceries; only to the comic book.”

“What about the candy bar?”

Raymond shook his head, looking at the contents of the red shopping basket.

“Bread, orange juice, Hershey bar…all groceries. Comic book, six percent sales tax.”

“I don’t see why I have to spend all my money.”

“Come on, Rob. I’ll pay you back. I want to give the comic to Grace to make up for the other one. See, it’s a funny one with Forest Critters.”

Robert sighed. He picked up the comic, studied the cover for a moment, and tossed it back in the basket.

“And the chocolate?” he asked.

“Estelle likes chocolate.”

“So what? Everybody likes chocolate.”

“Come on, be nice. She can’t talk.”

“She can talk fine.”

“You know what I mean, Rob.”

After paying for their purchases, the boys made their way out of the store and back to the car.

“Do you notice anything?” Robert asked as Raymond turned the ignition.

“What?”

“Look at the parking lot.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly. No cars. Wasn’t there something on TV earlier about a curfew?”

Raymond cleared his throat.

“Well, that’s nothing to worry about. We’re going home right now.”

He pulled the car out into the street. Two blocks later, they reached a barricade with a squad car parked in front of it.

“Great,” said Robert.

Raymond looked around nervously.

“Should I back up?”

“Only if you’re absolutely sure you want to go to jail.”

A police officer stepped out of the car and started towards them. He was carrying a large flashlight.

“I think I know him,” said Robert.

“Just shut up and let me do the talking,” said Raymond.

Robert nodded.

Raymond rolled down the window as the officer approached.

“Good evening, officer,” he said.

“Where do you boys think you’re going?”

“Home. Ma sent us out to the Super King and we were supposed to be home before curfew. I guess we’re running late.”

“I guess you are.” He shined his flashlight directly in Raymond’s face, studying the boy for a moment. The he turned the beam on Robert.

“Where did you boys say you lived?”

Raymond pointed toward the barricade.

“Just a few more blocks down.”

The officer nodded.

“You live in that home for slow kids, don’t you?”

Raymond guffawed.

“What? No sir. We don’t.”

“Sure you do. I remember you. Both of you.”

He turned the flashlight to Robert.

“You. You were okay. One of the few who didn’t really get hurt.”

He aimed the beam back at Raymond.

“But you. They messed you up. Bad.”

“Look, officer, I really don’t have any idea —”

“Uh huh. They messed you up. Ants it was, they said. But it didn’t look like any ant bites I ever saw.”

The officer looked up and waved at the squad car. The headlights flashed in response. He bent back down to look in the car.

“You’re looking much better now, son. You must heal up pretty fast.”

“Ah, yes, I do. Look, sir, we’d really just like to get home.”

The policeman shook his head.

“Sorry, boys. They told us to look out for anything unusual. I’d say a couple of retarded kids driving down the street qualifies .”

He turned off the flashlight.

“Especially when one of them’s been dead for a couple of days.”