CHAPTER 60

WITH DARYL'S HELP Quarry strung the cables up and down the mineshafts at strategic points, finishing off at the entrance.

As they worked away Daryl said, "You looking pretty happy."

"Tippi's back home so why wouldn't I be?"

"She's not really home, Daddy, she's-"

Daryl didn't finish because his father's forearm was across his windpipe.

Daryl could feel the hot, stinking breath of his old man. "Now why don't you think real long and hard about what you were about to say, boy. And then why don't you keep your damn mouth shut!"

Quarry pushed his son away. Daryl bounced off the hard rock. But instead of going meekly away he lunged at his father and drove him up against the wall. Quarry wedged an arm under his son's thick neck and, using the wall of rock for leverage, forced him off. The two struggled over the uneven ground, each trying to get the upper hand as their breaths shot out of their mouths and the sweat stained their armpits despite the chill.

Daryl stumbled backward but then regained his balance. He charged forward again, wrapping his arms around his father's middle and lifting him off the ground and slamming him up against the rock.

All the air went out of Quarry's lungs, and his front teeth popped through his bottom lip with the impact. But when Daryl dropped him he found the strength to launch a knee into his son's gut, and then follow that with a powerful roundhouse to the face, putting his whole body into it. Daryl fell back on his butt, his cheek ripped, his mouth bleeding.

Quarry almost toppled over with the force of his blow. He half spun around and squatted in the dirt, hacking and spitting up blood. "You couldn't kick my ass even if I was in a damn wheelchair sucking on oatmeal through a straw," he yelled.

Daryl eyed the stick of dynamite bound to a long cable lying on the floor of the mine. "You gonna blow me up too, old man?"

"Blow us all up if I have to, dammit!"

"I ain't spending my whole life doing what you tell me to do."

"You ain't got no life but for me. The Army come looking for your ass and who saved it? Me! And then you screwed up with the woman. And you kept screwing up. Shoulda shot you back then."

"Why didn't you then, old man? Why!" shouted Daryl as he balled his fists and tears slid down his face to mix with the blood there.

"Killed Kurt."

"And you ain't had no right to do that! I was the one what killed that woman. Not Kurt."

"I shoulda shot you instead," Quarry said again, spitting up bits of his torn lip.

"So why didn't you, Daddy! Why didn't you kill me?"

Quarry wasn't looking at him now. He put a hand up against the wall to steady himself, his breaths coming in short gasps.

" 'Cause I need you, that's why," he said in a quieter voice. He bent down and offered Daryl a hand up. His son didn't take it.

"I need you, Daryl. I need you, boy." Quarry stayed bent over, his feet stumbling across the floor of the mine. Quarry looked over at his son and imagined him as a young, adoring boy with big blue eyes and a lopsided grin. Tell me what needs doing, Daddy.

When his eyes cleared, all he saw was a large, thickset, angry man struggling slowly to his feet.

"I need you, boy," Quarry said again, offering his hand again. "Please."

Daryl pushed past him. "Let's just get this done," he said, wiping the blood off his face with one of his filthy hands. "Sooner the better. Then I'm outta here." Quarry unlocked the door and stepped into the room. The light from the lantern on the table was turned down low so he couldn't see her. But he felt her presence.

"I didn't want to give her up," Diane Wohl said as she emerged from the shadows.

Quarry came into the wash of light.

"You're bleeding," she said.

"Ain't nothing," said Quarry as he sat down at the table and ran a hand through his thick, sweaty hair. He was still wheezing a bit from his struggle with his son.

Damn smokes.

Diane sat down across from him. "I didn't want to give her up."

Quarry drew a long breath and sat back, studying her from under a tangled mass of eyebrows.

"Okay."

"You scare the hell out of me. Everything about you terrifies me."

"You scare me too," he said.

Diane looked stunned. "How could I possibly scare you?"

"There's lots of ways to be scared. Physical. In your head. Both."

"So which way do I scare you?"

Quarry put his hands together and leaned forward, his big head dangling over the table center, as blood from his punctured lip plopped on the wood. "You make me afraid that this old world will never be good again. For none of us."

She sat back, stung by his words. "I'm a good person! I've never hurt anyone."

"You hurt that girl, even if she don't know it."

"I gave her up so she'd have a better life."

"Bullshit. You gave her up so you wouldn't have to deal with it."

She reached across the table and slapped him, then drew back, a look of terror on her features. She eyed her hand as though it belonged to someone else.

"At least you got some spirit," said Quarry, who had been unfazed by the blow.

"So I've ruined the whole world?"

"No, you let other folks do it. People like you let other assholes walk all over 'em. Even when they're wrong. Even when you know they're wrong. That makes you as bad, as evil as them. People like you don't stand up to nothing where you got to fight for what's right. You just crawl into the dirt. You just take it. The shit they hand out. Take it with a smile and say thank you where can I get me some more shit please?"

A tear from Diane's right eye hit the table where it mixed with Quarry's blood. "You don't know me."

"I know you. I know you and people just like you."

She brushed at her eyes. "So what are you going to do? Kill me?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm gonna do with you." He slowly rose, his back killing him from where he'd hit the rock. "You wanta see Willa again? Might be for the last time. Things coming to a head now."

Diane's eyes were blurred with tears. "No, I can't." She wagged her head from side to side, her fingers coiled tight and shaking.

"Crawling in the dirt again, lady? Trying to hide? You say you're scared of me? You just slapped me. Showed some backbone. You can stand up to folks if you want to. The people who think they're strong, who look like they got everything? The rich and the powerful? They ain't got shit. One time you stand up to them, they just run away, 'cause they ain't really strong, or tough. They just got stuff. They just got puffed-up pride based on nuthin'." He slammed his big fist down on the table so hard it knocked the lantern over and the light went out. From out of the sudden darkness he said, "I asked you if you wanted to see your daughter? What's it gonna be?"

"Yes."