The Feral Detective by Jonathan Lethem

Author:Jonathan Lethem
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

30

WHEN I PASSED IT AGAIN, I LINGERED FOR A MOMENT AT SPARK’S HUT, the dark entrance she’d popped from. She wasn’t there, but I felt her presence. I was being watched. I moved off to the ridge behind which lay the well and Anita’s cabin, the small Rabbit civilization. Then I looked up and found Spark there, silently keeping pace with me on a rise to the right. The pistol was hung on a rope around her waist; I had no difficulty spotting it this time. That was one way I was changing.

31

NOW, TWO HOURS LATER, RETURNING FROM FETCHING STICKS WITH LORRIE, as I walked with Anita toward Neptune Lodge in the flattening golden light and chafing wind, I sensed her again. Spark. A special nerve in me was attuned to the girl with the pistol, and now it reawoke. I turned and searched the hills and sure enough, there she was, scrambling along a distance from us.

“Anita?”

“Yes?”

“We’re being followed by that young woman from the outpost. Spark, I think she’s called.”

“Yes, I noticed that too.”

“I think she’s following me specifically.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Apparently, you interest her.”

“Am I that interesting?”

“To Spark you are.”

“Bada bing, bada boom.”

But Anita charged on ahead, Red Queen to my Alice, forcing me to follow, oblivious to my wit. Her dickishness made me want to take her at her word and be grateful I had at least Spark for an admirer. My charms seemed lost on Rabbits on the whole. I wondered whether it was optional or mandatory: my visit to their sick captive Bear, this deepening involvement in Anita’s skewed, dusty kingdom. During my interlude gathering sticks, I’d begun looking forward to the fire. I could feel the allure of a bite of charred food and the cover of night—a place beneath the stars and a certain distance from the madness of these women. It might be the next best thing to a hot shower and a Wi-Fi signal.

In this mood, Neptune Lodge came as a little bit of a shock. I’d been in the Mojave less than twenty-four hours, but the large satellite dish, which loomed up as we came around a rocky outcropping, appeared like some clarion of modernity, an Eiffel or Empire State. The building’s wide, low roof sported solar panels too. The structure nestled in a cradle of rock, sheltered from wind. We approached it from above, on steps notched in the stones. Here were glass windows as well. Maybe a hot shower wasn’t out of the question. I recalled that tantalizing prospect Anita had held out: a room with a door that closed.

The so-called lodge wasn’t larger than a suburban ranch house, really, but I’d had my expectations shrunk to the local scale. Did Heist know about this place? I couldn’t imagine, but then again my confidence at any guesswork concerning Heist’s hopes, dreams, motives, turn-ons, or any other of the contents of his skull was in an all-time ditch, along with my wish to continue giving a shit.

“Is this a Rabbit place?” I asked Anita.

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