One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 15, page 5

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Pí‘oro Kılímo knew the police would want to investigate the kitchen, location of Zhíno’s last gunfight, but he didn’t let that stop him from cleaning it up. When the police came knocking in the morning, they’d be arresting Pí‘oro no matter what. Therefore, he might as well erase some of the evidence of Zhíno’s transgressions. He could claim that Vata went to bed and had nothing to do with it. He could say that, since the police hadn’t said to not disturb the kitchen, he thought it was allowed.

In the dark, he swept up the broken glass and wood splinters, emptying the dustpan in the garbage bin. He had to keep the lights off, lest the two remaining lawmen spot him through the windows. Despite the late hour and the constant pain of his injured body, Pí‘oro wasn’t tired or ready to lie down. They had work to do.

Vata was busying herself in the chapel, burying the dog and taking care of the horse. She’d already vacuumed the hallway and front room. Zhíno lay comatose in their bed. Pí‘oro would have to go check on him in a few minutes, just in case his condition changed.

He corralled the last of the shards and dust and swept it carefully into the dustpan. In the hunched position, his back screamed with agony, overpowering the pain of his twisted right knee.

And besides, he thought, it’s our kitchen; we’ll have to use it. He paused, frowning. But the police are going to probably arrest me before breakfast.

He straightened his back with an involuntary groan. Unless I leave.

Slippered feet scuffed the front room carpet.

“Dear?” his wife whispered. “Are you almost finished?”

Even through the whisper, Pí‘oro could sense weariness in her voice. He turned toward her, but could barely distinguish her small form in the darkness.

“Getting there. The floor is clean.” He rubbed his aching neck with his sore right hand. “Maybe you should go to bed.” He added, “In the spare room.”

Vata shuffled across the linoleum towards Pí‘oro. Her outstretched hand bumped into his chest and then searched over his body to find his own left hand. She held it loosely with both of hers.

“Tell me about the afterlife, dear.”

Why does she keep pressing me on that? Pí‘oro held back a sigh. His wife was so devout, it would shatter her world to discover the teachings had been completely wrong. Pí‘oro had never believed any of that doctrinal gooseshit anyway, so it hardly made a difference to him. Vata, though. . . He didn’t want to hurt her.

“Dear?”

He couldn’t lie to her, though. He had to change the subject.

“I need to leave before the police return, or else they’ll arrest me.”

Softly, Vata replied, “Don’t worry about that, dear. This house is the safest place for you to be. I called Judge Ríko earlier tonight. He won’t approve any search warrants. They can’t come in here.”

She stroked his hand, irritating the injured skin with scattered tingles.

“Now, dear. Don’t be afraid to tell me about the afterlife. Please, I want to know.”

Pí‘oro grimaced from the pain she inflicted on his hand, but didn’t pull it away.

“I’m sorry, darling, but. . .” He put his right hand over hers, all four hands together. “It wasn’t quite like we were taught. Maybe I was dreaming and it wasn’t really the afterlife. I don’t know. It felt real, though.”

Vata’s hands trembled in his grasp.

“What did you see?” Her voice was so thin, Pí‘oro could barely hear it.

Pí‘oro shook his head slowly. “Maybe I was supposed to go searching for Pétíso’s great hall. Maybe the gods were waiting just around the corner of the hill or down in the forest. Maybe I was supposed to climb to the top of the mountain. I don’t know.” He squeezed Vata’s hands. “I was there so short a time. I don’t know.”

Despite the doubt he pressed into his voice, Pí‘oro knew in his heart that the gods weren’t anywhere on that mountainside. They had better things to do than judge all of humanity. Pétíso was probably coaching the divine panelball team, or something. Human beings just did not matter much to the gods. To Them, humans are no better than the rest of the plagued animals.

“It’s all right, dear.” Vata pulled a hand free and stroked Pí‘oro’s cheek. “I understand your frustration. The afterlife shall remain a mystery for each of us to solve, in turn. May it be many years before either of us visit there.”

“Gods willing,” Pí‘oro replied rotely. His face cracked a grin. “‘Visit there again,’ you mean.”

Vata’s teeth glimmered in the darkness. She sank into his arms and sighed, “Oh, Pí‘oro.”

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