Frank relaxed enough with Begay to take a seat. “What did you do before you ended up here? You sound pretty sharp to me.”
“They tested me once, back when I could stand school. My IQ is, I don’t know. Two hundred and ten, something like that. I was off their scale. Unfortunately, being crazy I can’t do much with it. Grandfather, now, he was smarter than me. They wanted him to run the Nation. The Navajo Nation, that is. But he would not have any part of it. He was only interested in sheep and corn and watching the weather.
“The schoolteachers kept trying to interest me in different subjects. When I was in high school I got interested in something they call amorphous silicon. I thought you could make high-efficiency solar cells from it. My teachers would not listen to me, so I forgot about it. Then for a while I thought I wanted to be a diesel truck mechanic. There was much talk of a football scholarship, too, until I found out I preferred avoiding people to running over them. That is not the kind of attitude that turns on college recruiters.
“Finally I just picked up and went my own way. Traveling suits me best.” He winked. “This is not the only interesting place where I have worked.”
“And you don’t find this kind of work, your situation here, degrading?” Frank asked interestedly.
“No hard work is degrading. Ask yourself sometime who you would rather have go on strike: the physicists or the garbage collectors? I have done both kinds of work. I spent much time in a plant in northwest Texas assembling nuclear weapons.”
Steven’s eyes got real big. “Atom bombs?”
Burnfingers nodded. “My job was to help with the final assembly and checkout. When no one was looking I made improvements to each warhead I worked on.”
Frank tried to envision a self-proclaimed crazy assembling nuclear devices. It made him sweat harder. “What kind of improvements?”
“On the ones that I helped prepare for shipment, I adjusted them so that if they were set off, all the radiation would be confined within a quarter-kilometer radius. The rest of the energy released would take the form of harmless fireworks, like big Fourth of July sparklers.” He grinned.
“That’s sabotage!” Frank said angrily. “You’ve weakened our national security.”
“Oh, I always even things out, Frank. I did the same work for a time in a Soviet assembly plant near Lake Baikal. The Russian bombs will make red and yellow sparklies, the American ones red, white, and blue.” He allowed himself a chuckle. “If they are ever used there are going to be some very surprised generals on both sides.”
“I love your bracelet.” Alicia gracefully changed the subject. “Is it Navajo?”
Burnfingers raised his left arm. The flannel sleeve slid back from his wrist to expose a mass of worked silver and turquoise. “My father gave it to me. It is old pawn. Myself, I prefer to work in gold. That is why I am collecting so much of it. I have a mind to make something one day.”
Abruptly, the hall door opened to admit the three demonic juveniles who had been tormenting Steven earlier. They entered laughing and cackling.
Steven saw them, let out a scream, and fled to the bathroom. One of the demons got an arm and leg between the closing door and the jamb and forced the door open. His companion resumed picking on the hapless ten-year-old.
“Hey, that’s about enough!” Frank moved to aid his son.
One of the juveniles whirled on him. “You keep out of this, blood bag!” He had pupilless red eyes and when he hissed, two narrow streams of flame shot from those inhuman orbs. Frank reeled back from the heat. The creature chortled nastily and turned to join in the fun.
Burnfingers Begay took a step toward the bathroom. “This is a holding area. You do not belong in here.”
“You stay out of this, too.” Eyeballed flame reached toward the tall Indian.
Begay ducked the fiery blast. One hand reached back to grab the water bucket, brought it around to smack the demonic bully square in the face. A noise like a big boiler letting off steam filled the room together with a ragged shriek. The other two demons stumbled clear of the evaporating puff of steam that had been their companion. All that remained of Steven’s principal tormentor was a small pile of red and black ashes.
Burnfingers tossed the empty bucket aside and picked up the wire broom. “Now you two both get out.”
Watching him warily, the survivors edged rapidly around the far side of the room. Though they spoke threateningly, they were obviously frightened of the janitor.
“You’ll hear about this!” one of them squealed. “You’ll be sorry—ouch!” Burnfingers’s broom caught him across the seat of his jeans and lifted him a foot off the floor.
“We’re gonna tell, we’re gonna tell the supervisor!” its companion moaned as he retreated down the hall.
“Go right ahead. I’ll tell him you were operating in a restricted area.” Burnfingers closed the door behind them. He put down the broom and entered the bathroom, smiling reassuringly. “It is okay now, little fella. You can come out. They are gone and will not come back soon.”
A hesitant Steven peeked out, rubbing at one eye with a fist. “Thank you, Mr. Begay.”
“Me, too,” said Frank, holding out a hand to his son. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome. They did not belong here doing what they were doing and they knew it.”
Alicia was staring in amazement at the pile of ashes.
“Now maybe you folks ought to tell me what you are doing here,” Burnfingers suggested.
“With pleasure.” All suspicions gone, Frank proceeded to explain as best he was able.
7
AFTERWARD, Burnfingers stood thinking for a long time. Then he muttered something angry in Navajo and gave the water bucket a kick that dented the metal.
“Wrong. All wrong. If you were not sent here, then you should not be kept here. They should confess a mistake has been made.”
“But will they?” Alicia dared to sound hopeful. “If they don’t, is there anything you could do for us? You say they let you move about freely. Can you help us get away from here? Or maybe you could intercede on our behalf with whoever’s in charge.”
Burnfingers shook his head. “He does not concern himself with small matters. In any case, you do not want to bring yourselves to his attention. One time I saw him, riding by in his limo, and even though I had a long hot way to travel I did not consider asking for a ride.” He paused, added thoughtfully, “I had not really realized it until this minute, but I think I am tired of mopping floors. Some of the staff is okay, but your average demon or imp is a real slob. They just do not care about keeping things neat.
“I have accumulated enough gold here. With what I have acquired before, I think I have enough to do my work. So I suppose it is time to move on.” He regarded them somberly. “Crazy I may be, but I still like my sleep. It is hard to sleep here, what with all the screaming of the Damned. If I agree to help you, then you must agree to trust me.”
“Trust a crazy man?” Frank murmured.
“You will get out of here only by trusting someone crazy. But if you would prefer to rely on the kindly nature of the lieutenant and his advisors, I will not interfere.”
