Mortal Lock by Andrew Vachss

Veil said. “And maybe next time, one of the rats’ll get burned.”
    Knowing Leonard, I couldn’t argue with that. He walked over to the jury and I turned around to say something to Veil. But he was gone.

DEAD RELIABLE
    I was walking through the woods behind our property when I came across a huge toadstool. It was a color I’d never seen, some kind of shimmering rose-orange, standing on a stalk so thick it looked like a miniature palm tree holding up a solid canopy.
    Remington stopped when I did. The chocolate lab is getting on in years, and he always grabs any excuse for a rest. I don’t think he even likes walking in the woods anymore, but Florence—my wife—says he has to do it. For the same reason I have to do it: to keep fit. Diet and exercise are very important to her. Keeping fit.
    Florence bought Remington because she said he was the right kind of dog for our new life. But he’s always been my dog. If I didn’t go walking, he wouldn’t either.
    The toadstool-tree stood in a thick bed of dark green moss. It looked like it had been there for centuries. Unseen, untouched. Unspoiled.
    I watched it for a long time, absently patting my pockets for the cigarettes I knew wouldn’t be there anymore. I used to smoke in the woods—I would never have considered smoking in the house—but I don’t do that anymore, not since I quit.
    That’s what I did—quit. Not stop, quit. It wasn’t worth the talk. All the talk. All the statistics. All the proof. All the rightness of Florence.
    She said she was sick of smelling it on me, every time I came back from a walk.
    I was sick, too.
    I had never seen anything like that toadstool. It was so beautiful. Timeless and perfect. God knows what it must have survived,how many years it had been on earth, to grow to that size and splendor.
    I never liked living way out here, even though I kept trying to. It
was
peaceful and quiet, not like the city at all. And cheaper, a lot cheaper. Instead of an apartment, we have a house, now. And land, too. The woods I walked in, they were on our own property.
    Florence said the city wasn’t a good value. Because there was no room to expand, every single unit was artificially priced. Someday, when they ran out of room in the city, the land we owned now would be worth a fortune to developers.
    Really, we hadn’t had to give up all that much. We have cable TV, and the Internet—Florence loves the Internet; she’s always researching things. And there’s a nice little town only a few miles away, where they have a library and a movie theater and … well, all kinds of things, if you’re interested.
    I’m not interested. I haven’t been interested in a long time.
    I looked down at my feet, at the special hiking boots Florence had bought for me last Christmas. Very expensive, but worth every penny, she said. Not only do they have steel toes, in case something heavy falls on me, but the insoles are removable, and I can replace them with my orthotic supports.
    I’m fragile now. Precautions must be taken.
    I sat down and tried to remember when I wasn’t fragile. When I was a person people listened to. Respected, even.
    The memory always hurt more than the reality, but, this time, I couldn’t even bring it back.
    I was numb. Everything was so painless. I stood up and kicked the toadstool. The entire head flew off the stalk. I walked over and held it in my hands. Then I sat down again, and started tearing it into tiny pieces.
    It took a long time. When I was done, there was nothing left but little colored scraps, scattered all over the dark moss.
    When I realized there was nothing more to do, I stood up and started walking again.
    I walked and walked, farther than I’d ever gone before. I walked slowly, so Remington could keep up.
    We came to a tree that had been cut down by lightning. Its roots were still alive, but the tree itself was lying flat on the ground.
    I sat down on it.
    Remington came over and sat next to me.
    All of a sudden, I