The Second Son: A Novel by Jonathan Rabb

Author:Jonathan Rabb [Rabb, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literary, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 0374299137
Google: ozrcjwEACAAJ
Amazon: B006OHVJNA
Publisher: Picador
Published: 2011-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

It was three hours later, and a hundred kilometers of safe Republican territory behind them, when Gabriel shut off the headlights.

The sun was long gone, but he continued to drive. Not that there had been much to see since the outskirts of the city. It was fields and hills and, somewhere in the distance, mountains, but even with a full moon there was little chance of seeing any of it as more than vague shadows. Towns had come and gone as pockets of light, with the occasional barking of a dog to remind them of lives being plotted and endured along the way. They had passed two checkpoints. The men at each had gone through their papers; the dead Germans had been admired and forgotten.

After that, Hoffner, Mila, and Gabriel had settled into an easy silence. The constant jolts to the chassis, and the grinding of the gears, continued to beat out a comforting rhythm.

Hoffner stared out through the windscreen. It was a road incapable of holding its line for more than thirty meters at a time. Now, with the light gone, he was strangely aware of the smell of manure. He hadn’t smelled it before but knew it must have been there.

“You know the road?” he said.

Gabriel’s left hand was resting on the steering wheel in a pose far too casual for the speed. Mila sat sleeping between them.

“Let’s hope.” Gabriel lit his next cigarette. He set it on the edge of his lip and tossed the match out the window.

Hoffner said, “It seems very peaceful.”

“It does.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“I don’t.”

“You do know you’re winning the thing.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.”

“Tell me,” said Hoffner. “What is it that makes me so lucky to have found the one group of anarchists in Spain who can’t enjoy the taste of victory?”

Gabriel fended off a smile. “Common sense?”

“That’s never it.”

“Then an instinct for your own kind. You wouldn’t know what to do with it either.”

A curve forced them to the left, and Gabriel brought his full focus to the road. He ground the gears until the cab hitched at the loss of speed. Hoffner gripped the dashboard and placed an arm across Mila. She continued to sleep.

Hoffner said, “I think this is different.”

“Then you’d be wrong. It’s never different. Not when you’ve been through it before.”

Hoffner waited for more. Instead, Gabriel reached his hand down to a small tin box on the floor. He flipped open the lid, pulled out a Coca-Cola, and handed it across to Hoffner. For the fifth time in the last two hours, Hoffner opened a bottle and handed it back. This was the last of the stash Gabriel had brought.

Hoffner said, “A Spanish anarchist and his dedication to the American capitalist dream.”

“It tastes good. That’s all.”

“I’ve seen this stuff take the rust off a tire bolt in twenty minutes.”

Gabriel nodded and took a swig. “Just think how clean my insides must be.”

For the first time since Hoffner had met him, Gabriel pulled a healthy cigarette from his mouth.

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