Page 49 of Shadows Reel

Viktór paused, then said, “Even a librarian.”

“Even a librarian,” he echoed.

—

An hour later,they were both laid out on twin beds beside each other, watching the television. They hadn’t slept together in the same room since they were boys.

American football was on. Viktór understood that one of the teams was the Detroit Lions. The Dallas Cowboys would play later in the day.

“This is a stupid game,” Viktór said. “I don’t understand it. There’s a lot of standing around having meetings. Then they try to kill each other. What’s the point of it?”

László tried to explain the rules. “If you get the ball across the goal you get more points. One team tries to get it across the goal and the other team tries to stop it. It’s kind of like rugby.”

“It’s not like rugby at all.”

There was a knock on the door and the brothers looked at each other. They’d not heard a car approach outside.

The door opened inward as far as the safety chain would let it. “Housekeeping,” a man said.

“We don’t require a service,” László responded.

A young man with thick glasses and a wispy beard peered in through the crack of the door at the two of them on the beds.

“Are you sure?” the man asked.

“We are sure,” László said firmly. With a side-eye, Viktór could see his brother reach beneath the bed for something. Probably the Pulaski tool.

“Not even towels?” the man asked.

“We’re okay, I said,” László replied. “Close the door. You’re letting the cold in.” He was getting angry.

“Who’s winning?” the housekeeper asked.

“Not the Lions,” Viktór said.

“I’m not surprised. I can’t remember the last time they won. I’m from Michigan.”

Viktór didn’t know what that meant. He looked to László, who was lifting the ax from the floor to lay it across his thighs. Viktór signaled to his brother with his eyes to calm down.

“It’s none of my business,” the housekeeper said, “but they’re serving free Thanksgiving meals at the community center if you guys are interested. Turkey and all the trimmings.”

“We’re okay,” Viktór said. “Please close the door.”

He could feel László tense up next to him, ready to leap to his feet and swing the ax through the gap in the door.

“Well, suit yourself,” the housekeeper said. He sounded disappointed. But the door eased closed and Viktór let out a deep sigh of relief.

Then the door opened again.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” the housekeeper called out. Then he quickly pulled the door closed.

His shadow passed across the curtains of the outside window and Viktór could hear the squeaking of laundry cart wheels on the cement sidewalk. A few seconds later, he heard “Housekeeping” called out in front of the room next to theirs.

“These people,” Viktór said. “They’re a pain in myass.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Northwest of Boise