Part 6 (1/2)
Who's that? Sagan replied.
Come on, Deem, Winn said, walking to the stairs. This idiot doesn't even know who he's named after, and I gotta get out of here before I choke. Don't f.u.c.k this up, Sagan. You f.u.c.k it up, the deal's cancelled and I take it to Gale.
Chill! Sagan said. I'll do it, you don't gotta worry.
”He's an idiot,” Deem said, riding in Winn's Jeep. ”Makes me a little nervous to have him working on this.”
”Me too,” Winn said, ”since he's our only option.”
”There's no Gale in Littlefield?” Deem asked.
”Nope,” Winn said. ”Sagan's the only Caller I know that's close. If he doesn't work out, the next closest I know of are in Ely.”
”d.a.m.n, let's hope he gets it right,” Deem said. ”Are you going to tell him the corpses are animated?”
”Nope,” Winn said. ”He'll have to figure that one out. But he will, he's so hungry for them. He'll clean the place out.”
”If he doesn't f.u.c.k it up,” Deem repeated.
”Yeah, that,” Winn said.
Deem felt her cell phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked it it was a reminder to visit Joseph Dayton, a friend of her father's.
”So this stop I need to make,” Deem said to Winn, ”is right in the middle of town. If you want, you can take me home and I'll drive there.”
”How long will it take?” Winn asked.
”I don't know,” Deem said. ”I want to talk to him about my father. He was good friends with him. I think he's gifted, too, and won't admit it. I'm hoping to ask him if my father kept a journal.”
”I'll take you there,” Winn said, knowing this was of major importance to Deem. Anything that involved her father was major.
”I can't tell you for sure how long it will take,” Deem said.
”I'll wait,” Winn replied.
Deem gave Winn the address. She was grateful that he was coming along. She could use the moral support.
Winn watched as Deem left the house he was parked in front of and walked to his Jeep. She opened the pa.s.senger door and hopped inside.
”That was fast,” Winn said.
”He wouldn't tell me anything,” Deem said, fuming. ”Wouldn't admit to having the gift, said he didn't know if my dad kept a journal. I dropped into the River and could tell he was lying. I think he knew I knew.”
”Did you call him on it?” Winn asked.
”No,” Deem said. ”I just thanked him and left. I feel like a p.u.s.s.y.”
”Want me to go talk to him?” Winn asked.
”No,” Deem said. ”It's just that...G.o.dd.a.m.nit, it's just how smug he was. There's all this judgment. I'm not active in the church, so the walls are up. It makes me angry. It's my father we're talking about, church or no.”
”Yeah,” Winn said, ”I know what you mean.”
”He and my dad spent a lot of time together,” Deem said. ”He was Dad's counselor in the stake presidency. They were both gifted, I know it. I'll bet he has gifted kids of his own, too. He should be more compa.s.sionate.”
”I thought you said your father didn't leave a journal?” Winn said. ”Did you discover something different?”
”It doesn't make sense,” Deem said. ”He advocated keeping a journal, he advised others to do it, as part of the religion. I can't believe he didn't keep one himself. My mom says there's no journal, but he may have hid it from her, or she might be hiding it from me. I spent most of today digging through boxes in storage at home, seeing if I could find something. I know it's there, somewhere.”
”And you were hoping this guy would know something?”
”I thought maybe he could confirm if my dad kept one,” Deem said. ”But he denied any knowledge of anything. It was like he never knew my dad. And worse, he lied to me.”
Deem was tearing up. Winn saw her wipe her eyes. ”When I was younger,” Deem said, ”I thought he was a very nice man. Now he's just an a.s.shole.”
”You know, there's always been those rumors about Mormon gifteds,” Winn said. ”Maybe that's why.”
”My dad told me they weren't true,” Deem said.
”Yeah, well, he didn't tell you about a journal, either. Maybe it was something he was waiting to tell you, but he pa.s.sed away before he could.”
”He died a slow, agonizing death from leukemia,” Deem said. ”He had plenty of time to tell me anything he wanted to say.”
”You could always go talk to Claude Peterson,” Winn said.
Deem turned to look at Winn. ”Crazy Claude? I'd be shot before I could knock on his door.”
”The guy knows a lot about it,” Winn said.
”It's all bulls.h.i.+t,” Deem said. ”He's a lunatic.”
”He just knows some things he probably shouldn't have talked about,” Winn said, ”and it got him branded as crazy. It's the community here that's isolated him. I've always believed him.”
”Well, you believe in UFOs, too,” Deem said.
”This sudden interest in a journal is because of Steven and Roy, isn't it?” Winn asked. ”Seeing Roy's journal?”
”It got me thinking, yes,” Deem said. Deem felt her phone buzz once again. She slipped it from her pocket and scrolled through the messages.
”Awan found a picture,” she said, turning to Winn and smiling.
Chapter Four.