The 5000 Fingers of Bob, pt VII
I remember it all with crystal clarity now, but at the time everything was as blurry as a Picasso. I came back into the kitchen and saw Glenn bent over halfway inside my ice box, rummaging for something to snack on and in the next moment I was sitting in the dark of the shed, waiting for them to return with Bob. The agreement was I would watch Bob while they went into the house. Considering Bob would see his kidnappers' faces, it would be best for whoever was going to stay with him to not be there when they caught him so that he could keep Bob calm. He also had to be big enough to sedate Bob in case he got loose, so that meant Jack, Glenn or me. Being neutral on the issue of killing Bob made me the best choice.
The shed was a few miles from Jack's house and was about fifteen by ten feet. The hard-packed dirt underfoot was as sure as concrete with occasional tufts of stubborn crabgrass that refused to die, despite the lack of sun and moist earth. I can't remember my thoughts as I sat there alone, stroking my calloused thumb across the head of a wooden match with the lamp in my lap. All I remember was the waiting. Waiting that felt like forever but slipped through before I realized.
I felt rather than saw the sun go down like a door closing all around me. The crickets had been chirping a good half hour before I heard the truck pull up. I struck the match and lit the lamp, then got to my feet and walked to the door.
Glenn and Jack each had an arm around their shoulders as they carried him inside. Bob's bare feet dragged behind him, his knees almost scraping the floor as they hauled him over to the chair and sat him down.
"Gimme that," Jack said reaching toward Howie standing just outside the door. Howie tossed him a length of rope and Jack commenced to tie him up. I noticed how both Jack's hands never left Bob at the same time. He was always touching him as if to be sure he was always there. He cinched his knots tight around Bob and stood up.
"That'll hold him, Tom, but you make sure you keep an eye on him," he told me. "For a boy his size, he's quicker'n shit and I don't need to tell you how strong he is." He backed away slowly, watching Bob slumped over in the chair, a black sack over his head. "Hold on a second." Jack ran out and a minute or two later, he and Howie carried a generator in and set it on the floor behind Bob. Jack took a length of copper coil out of his back pocket and threw it on the floor next to the generator.
"What's that for?" Ed asked, a concerned look on his face as he stood in the doorway.
"Just in case. C'mon, let's get." Jack nodded at me, turned and went out, Howie close on his heels.
Ed looked suspiciously at the generator as he left, but before Glenn left he looked to me, his face knotted with worry and said, "You watch him real careful, y'hear? And don't listen to him, no matter what he says." I shut the door behind him, making sure I kept my eye on Bob and sat down on the stool in front of him. The house was a good ten-minute drive from here and Bob and I were due for a long night together.
The feeling of déjà vu came over me as I sat with Bob. Time felt like it was stretching on forever as it thickened into an almost palpable physical presence between us. Bob was here, but he wasn't. I can't explain it except that he felt completely empty to the touch. Like my hand would push a hole in him and he'd be hollow inside. I lifted the hood I don't know how many times to be sure who was under there. Each time I saw Bob's eyes rolling back and forth under his lids as if some spark in his simple mind refused to rest. It was almost violent how fast his eyes moved and I replaced the hood only because of how thoroughly disturbing it was to look at.
