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Chap
2
He lifted his head with a grog and forced open eyelids heavy as
lead. Could he believe the events of last night? ... or was it a
surrealistic nightmare?
He got up and pulled on his jeans and Beethoven T-shirt and
creaked down the stairs to the back door. The early morning sun played
with the wispy clouds hovering over the far woods. A bright shaft of
sunlight caught Jeb full in the face and cleared his mind. Harrison was
already sitting on the porch step, deep in thought.
"How's our soldier feeling on a fine dawn of a new
day?" said Jeb.
"Better. Let's check out our back yard and see how much
damage was done." They treaded out to the woods and came upon a bunch
of dead cats along the edge of the woodland.
What have I done? thought Harrison. So much blood and gore, I
didn't mean to kill anybody, how did my aim hit so many of these ...
these cats? Poor things.
"Where did all the cats come from?" said Jeb.
They stared at the stiffs as Phelia arrived just then, and she contorted
her face in revulsion, and then spurted out "argh!" as she
fathomed the horror of the scene. She composed her mind and then got off on the gore, and muttered some Death Metal slogan-
"Death, death, death! it all ends in death! so why give a
care? When it all ends in death, death, death..."
She pumped her head up and down and mumbled her refrain in
maniacal meter. Unseen by the others, just then, a strange looking boy, with scraggly red hair that looked like straw stuffed on a scarecrow's head, came upon the scene. He looked at the gore, and as they turned to look at him. He seemed to stutter a few indecipherable words and then finally spit it out, "Hey .. uh uh ... there ya’all … uh I mean, uh … hi there! Glad to meet ya.” It seemed he was trying to hold back something, trying to conceal his self-conscious crudeness, but that old nature came bursting out.
About last night, what was it?, eh …
what happened last night? What was the shooten about? I heard it from
my bed and jumped up and looked out my winda and saw a rifle flaming
like firecrackers on the 4th… heh heh.” His eyes bugged out with bullfrog countenance. "What was it? … a robbery or sompthun? Well … uh … to tell ya the truth, where I come from, from ole Arkansas, out there in the old black oaks ... yeah … shootin in the middle of the dang woods … in the wee hours of the dang night, ain't such a dang rare sight … heh heh."
He flashed yellow
tobacco stained teeth as he looked
around to see if his audience was rapt in attention. They were, but not
for the reasons he thought. He appeared to be restraining himself from some inner nature, of which he was trying to hide. Losing this resolve and letting go of all inhibitions, he blurted, "Why look'ee at them dead critters! What gun ever did that, sure is a meen sono' beech! Lookee at dat loco gato there! Why, he done got his hed blowed plum klean off! Yah yah! Yeah boys, plum klean off!"
He turned to spit a fine spray
between the gap in his front teeth. Realizing this sudden crudeness, he again mustered a little restraint, and said with forced calmness, "Oh, hello, I'm yer neighbor, my name is Zak. That’s short for Zechariah." he held out a grimy hand, and glanced at Phelia ever so covertly, trying not to make it not obvious – sneak peaking her in a sly hungry way. Harrison caught all that, and got a kinky feeling about it, but drove the emotion down, and then shook the kid's hand and said,
"My
name's Harrison, and this is my son Jeb. Everything is ok now, it was
just a Nam' flashback last night. I was dreaming that I saw the Kong in
the woods. This time was a little worst then usual, but nobody got
hurt." "Nobody but a slew of damn cats, heh heh," chuckled Zak. "Now if you see any more them gooks, You flash some Morse code up dare, up that house up dare with the light there in my windah, and I'll come running with my 30-6 and we'd blow dose stinking yellow gook guts all to kingdom come! Ever dadgern one of `em! yah yah, uk uk yah!"
Then his guffaw simmered to an embarrassed whimper, and he
sheepishly looked up at them, his head hung down slightly, somehow
knowing he made an ass of himself.
Being how timidity could not /// hold to his character, he quickly forgot the
feeling of mortification, and threw shyness to the wind, and laughed out
loud with a psychotic glee gleaming on his face. Harrison and Jeb glanced at each other with mutual inquiry, “just how crazy is this dude?”
"Best I go home," said Zak, interrupting the
awkward silence, "Uh ... say ... you any kin to George?" he
said, trying to make a show of normalcy again, "I'd saw Ringo on the box last week."
"No, Harrison is my first name..."
"Oh ok, sorry," he seemed to sober up some,
"well, I guess we'll be seeing ya all later."
They said goodbye to Zak, and watched for a while as he walked
off, and Jeb and Harrison gave each other an "uh huh" glance. Then
a
hawk appeared, like an unexpected guest, paying them another
social call, he sailed silently over the woods, looking around for
something … something to eat?
They watched him disappear around the edge of the woods, and breaking
from the momentary trance, Jeb turned back to the house, and said,
“Guess I’ll get that shovel out of the van, and bury the corpses.” Harrison stood there a daze, not noticing that Jeb left the scene. Soon Jeb returned with a shovel and said, “Guess we better bury some carcasses, huh?" He started to dig several holes, small cat graves. Lifting the shovel off his shoulder, a menacing feeling caressed
his face as his eyes glanced into the forest, where something caught his
eye. He could have swore he saw a pair of tiny red eyes out there in the
shadows, looking straight at him … red-hot beady little eyes … eyes
full of hate, smoldering like burning red coals, and then a second later
the red dots flickered and blipped out, leaving only darkness. Jeb
stared at the black hole in the woods for a good five seconds or so and
then shook his head and turned away. He started to dig and gave the woods another peek and then turned to his dad and said, "Something is really wacko about all these cats living in the woods, and then getting hit in the crossfire." Harrison nodded.
Flies and bees swarmed around the cadavers like
linebackers around a quarterback. Some cat eyes were closed to a slit
and some teeth were bared in a macabre way. Some of those eyes were wide
open and staring ... it was as if they could see deep inside of Jeb
... till he broke out of their eye
contact and looked away.
Just
dead eyes, don't break out in a cold sweat over some staring dead eyes... he
thought, and he remembered the famous lines of Coleridge-
"But oh! More horrible than that
is the curse in a
dead man's eye...
seven days, seven
nights I saw that curse
yet I could not
die..."
“I thinks these dead cats hurl a curse more
wicked … than man,” Jeb surmised in inaudible tones. Phelia looked closer and said, "Eeeeewww! The ants have eaten away half his head overnight! Awe puken’ pizza cream tarts, aww gross!"
Jeb glanced at her revelation and nodded in confirmation, albeit with
less incommodious embellishments. Jeb's upper lip cringed and he scrunched up his nose and held his breath as he scooped up a dead cat with the shovel. It was stiff, gross and smelly, and all those ants and flies!! Jeb thought to himself, So many ants and flies, what is so fascinating here? Bunch of dead bodies and the ants and flies are going nuts! You’d think there was a concert going on here in the back yard, some Grateful Dead and Dylan concert, and these ants and flies are a million tie-died deadheads swarming all around a parking lot, scrounging for food and water!” Jeb tried to shoo away the flies that swarmed around the stiff cats as he scooped the shovel under another regamortus cat cadaver and slung it into the hole. Phelia stood by ominously and chanted some Death Metal verse by
the gravestone like she was some druid giving last rites to the dead. She
chanted, "Oh death! Oh supreme deity! Oh all powerful god! Oh all
devouring god! Oh god with cosmic teeth! Oh death, chew up these bodies,
food for your belly! Oh death! Oh all powerful god! Oh supreme deity!
Eat your fill..."
Jeb thought, What a cosmic theater... All the actors are here -
the executioner, the grave digger, the priest, the victims, a madman,
and death is always hanging around with his scythe. A cosmic play of
death ... Ole death sure do spin a mystery round one's head... As Jeb was thinking this death business was done, a hawk passed over the graveyard, and his wing flapping seemed to go into slow motion, and Jeb felt it was like a movie slow motion scene. He stared at the bird, and to his amazement, the bird made solid eye contact with him for a long two or three seconds, which seemed like ten minutes to Jeb. The image of this hawk eye stuck in his head, and for a split second Jeb saw within his mind a scene of some ancient temple, like an Aztec temple in a tropical surrounding, palm trees and mountains in the horizon, and then it disappeared. //??
With the death rite ceremony and mass entombment over with, they went back to the house.
Everybody sat down in the living room and got comfy and soon the eerie
feelings dwindled away. Phelia then announced that she would name the
new cat, she said it's name was “fuzzball’ due to it's abundant fur
and stubby tail. Jeb sneered, and claimed it would be more appropriate
to tag him “Weirdtail,” to the frown of Phelia.
When Jeb was sure that Phelia wasn't looking, he cradled Weirdtail
in his arms and took him outside for a long walk. He stroked Weirdtail's
fur and murmured "Kitty Kitty," as they approached the neck of
the woods.
For all the petting and kitty cooing, the animal was apprehensive
as to the boy's intentions. His eyes opened wide as he looked around,
not sure of the destination that lay in store.
Jeb glanced back to make sure nobody was following and said
"Bye bye Kitty," as he slung him into a patch of raspberry
bushes. Weirdtail’s tail bushed out as he looked back at Jeb from the
thorny vines with cold eyes that shot him a sarcastic
"thanks a bunch, asshole!"
"You'll have a better time out in the wild kitty. Don't give me
that look ... well, you know it's where you came from. Besides, we got a
cat and dog and a parrot coming from San Fran, and that's enough pets
for us already."
Despite his excuses, Jeb felt guilt about booting the cat. Maybe
reading Nietzsche all the time, has made me a little too hard hearted?, he
wondered.
Then Jeb heard the call of his dad. He ran back to find Harrison
getting ready to leave. He decided to get an early start back to San
Francisco, and wanted Jeb to come with him. "Be sure and don't scratch my new dresser," said Wanda. "We'll clean the house before you get back," said Phelia.
Jeb and Harrison gave each other a surprised look and a smile
after hearing Phelia's enthusiasm for work. They spun out of the driveway
and headed down the road as Phelia and Wanda waved goodbye.
Before long they crossed the golden gate and worked their way
across the city to the apartment. Pulling in the driveway, Harrison
turned to see the neighbor come over with a message-
"This feller was just here looking for you, and I told him
you'd be here this morning to pick up your stuff, and so he said he'd be
back soon."
"What did he look like?"
"Like a vet, he did. Big pony tail of blonde hair. Scar on
left cheek, like a crescent moon."
Harrison thought, Sounds to me like ole Cory. Haven't seen him
for 10 years, since the Nam' reunion in Golden Gate Park.
"Thanks Joey, we'll be by to get the pets soon. Thanks a
mill for watching them."
"Don't mention it." Joey said as he walked away.
"Something bothering you, dad?"
"Oh nothing, I was just thinking about this old Nam buddy
named Cory. Had a scar on his cheek, like neighbor Joey described. It
must be him. I don't know why, but I get a nervous feeling about seeing
old Cory again. My life is so different now, we probably won't relate. I
would't want to hurt him." ////// Harrison was hoping that they would get away before Cory got
back. That made him feel guilty, but he couldn't help it. They worked
hard for an hour until they finally loaded up the last of the furniture.
They went to Joey's and picked up their pets and thanked him for
watching them. Othello, the cat, rode in a box with windows and
Aristotle, Jeb's Yorkshire terrier, sat faithfully at his feet. McDuff,
the parrot, rode in a special cage in the middle.
"Never more ... never more!" squawked McDuff.
"Right on!" said Jeb. "I think I taught McDuff that line
for this very moment."
"Yeah, that's right McDuff ... city life, never more."
said Harrison.
Harrison was thinking how he was about to get away and was about
to start the engine when he was stopped by a curt yelp, and he turned to
see Cory running up the sidewalk, waving him to stop.
"Hold it right there, you dirty son of a Hare ... ha ha ha
ha! Thought you'd give the slip to your ole compadre! Did you? Huh? Ha
ha! Look Harrison! Gaddamit, it's ME! Cory! Your long lost partner! I'm
back! And just as ornery as ever! Yahooo!"
He roared a war cry and jumped over to the U-hall car door and
almost yanked it off it's hinges, and pulled Harrison out and spun him
around and around until they were wrestling around on the grass, Both
tumbling over and over, with Cory holding him in a bear hug, all the
while whooping it up.
As they rolled over and over, Cory got him in a head lock and
yelled, "You Missing-In-Action piece of slimy green salamander
snot! I ought to whip your punk ass and throw you to the croc this time
for sure! And I don't mean croc as in alligator, I mean a croc of turd,
you miserable little Ka-ka! You broke your vow, you s.o.b! You're the
only one that hasn't kept in touch."
Harrison managed to wrench free a moment before some huge arms
threw him on the grass again with a thud. Cory flipped him over and
straddled his chest like a maddened Apache, looking about to finish him
off with a gigantic tomahawk swipe, and then he broke out in a grin and
pinched Harrison's cheeks like they were little fat chubby baby cheeks,
laughing like an idiot.
"Still think you can whip the ole man!" jabbed Cory, as
he pulled Harrison up to his feet, chortling like a madman. Harrison was
red faced as he got to his feet and he brushed his hair back and smiled
his best to look pleased.
"Hey there blood bro, how ya doing?" said Cory as he
gave Harrison some real intense eye contact, looking hard into the
depths of Harrison's eyes, only a few inches away as he gripped his
shoulders hard, like he was trying to see down into his soul or
something. He grinned like a Bozo in circus paint, with briny breath
that stank of beer.
Harrison heard this remark and outwardly smiled but cringed
inside. It was true that he did some foolish blood merging with four
buddies in Nam. They swore to forever be blood bros and stick together
through all the hell and high water of this world and the next. It was a
sealed pact that transcended all time barriers, and even life and death
itself ... that sort of thing. It was like some esoteric initiation,
some ritualistic iron clad bonding of the souls ... enough to make the Rosicrucians
wake up and smell the incense...
Harrison was a little worried inside that Cory and the guys would
hold him to this nonsense of his reckless youth. He somehow felt that
Cory and his cohorts had not matured over the years as he had done. His
intuition seemed painfully accurate as he gazed upon the grinning
countenance of his old friend.
Even if I try to evolve beyond my foolish years, still things
seem to come back at me like a grinning skull and bones riding a Harley
out of hell. What man is free from the skeletons of his past? thought
Harrison.
"Yeah man, good to see ya," mumbled grinning Harrison
with weak enthusiasm, trying to look as happy as he could. Jeb and
Aristotle just stared in bewilderment.
"Good to see ya ... what? ... is that all you can say? We've
been lookin everywhere in the freaken' tarnation for ya the last ten
years, since the Nam reunion in the park, you putrid sack of siamese
sauerkraut! And all ya can say is ... good to see ya? Ho! Ho! Whooooa
dude! You'd better come up with something just a iddy-bit better than
that. You've been cheating on us boys, and that just don't cut it in our
books, why ... I should end your petty ass ways right here and now, you
stinkin' pile of dalmatian dog dung! Ha ha ha."
He ended that phrase with a disarming smile which meant to say
that he was only just kidding ... of course.
* * *
Jeb and Harrison loaded the van, and a shrouded figure watched them from
across the street. Sitting in a Laundromat folding chair, a pair of dark
eyes peered at them, through the window pane, which displayed a crudely
artistic hand-painted sign at the top, the letters read: “Suds-O-Rama.”
The man sat in a trance-like meditation, as motionless as a stonehenge
slab staring at the stars, scrutinizing Jeb’s every move like a hawk.
He fingered a strand of beads in his right hand, rotating them smoothing
through his fingers. He had just witnessed the beauty of the eastern
sunrise. So many sunrises, so many moon sets, how many has he seen?
Waiting, waiting, patiently waiting. Fortitude and infinite patience
etched out a well-defined countenance upon the canvas of his face.
His long dark hair hung on both sides of his face, and his turquoise
blue eyes sparkled brightly, with an unearthly confidence. A thread hung
across his chest, and Sanskrit tattoos adorned his forearms. His neck
held a few strands of love beads, the kind that Deadheads wear. He
watched Jeb and Harrison intently, as they loaded their van. Then he
smiled at the specticle of two grown men wrestling on the ground.
“There’s
always something funny about watching two grown men grappling and
rolling around on the ground, clutching each other in a death grip, but
obviously just a game,” he thought, chuckling to himself.
* * *
It was getting late in Bolinas, and Wanda and Phelia were watching
the darkness settle in around them as they got nervous about Jeb and
Harrison. They were still in a strange place with no radio or TV, or
people around, and well ... it was getting a mite lonely for them.
Phelia commented about the dark clouds rolling in from the west and the fog
swelling in from the ocean. Wanda told her not to worry about a thing.
Later, around 9 o'clock, a big storm blew in and engulfed the
house. Phelia and Wanda huddled inside together and looked out the window
to see the lightning flashes illuminate the woods with a ghostly sheen.
The trees swayed violently, and the branches and leaves twisting
savagely like ghouls waving their arms. A huge lightning bolt split the
sky with blinding light and it's shaft hurled down Thor's hammer and
crashed and split open a huge tree out back. Both half's of the tree
came crashing down, and one straddled straight across the driveway. The
fiery bolt turned the landscape white and the piercing thunder shattered
the air with rumbling frequencies of a multitude of orchestra Cymbals.
This made Wanda and Phelia cringe into each other's arms like hapless
children as they gaped at the horrendous storm.
Phelia suddenly heard Fuzzball meow loudly and scratch wildly at
the door. She snapped her mind out of it's daze and raced over to let
him in. A ruthless gust of wind and rain entrenched her as she grabbed
the cat and slammed the door shut.
"Fuzzball! Where you been all night?" ejaculated Phelia
as she held him tight and stroked his back and gasped for breath.
"I've been looking all over for you! Now you be a good little kitty
and stay around the house from now on, and don't go wandering off!
Especially don't go near those nasty woods!"
“Don't fret yourself about me, sweetie,” purred Fuzzball,
“I'll take care of number one just fine. But I'm a little upset about
that nervy brother of yours. I detect that he isn't your typical feline
lover, but he'd better watch his step from now on, or there'll be hell
to pay, cause something's going on out there in them woods, something
strange ... yeah ... very, very strange, and he better stop thinking I'm
just another dumb puss, cause who knows ... I might just be able to help
you all some day.”
Thus thought-talked the cat as he gave a "so there"
look and twitched his stubby tail.
Phelia thought ... Did I hear the cat say something? ... What? Did
I just think that! Nah, I'm not that crazy ... or maybe my music's been
too loud lately and some words are still ringing in my ears ... no, but
face it, cats just don't talk, and they don't even think too much for
that matter. Oh well ... death, death, death, yeah yeah yeah... * * * [meanwhile, later that night, back in the city of
Alcatraz] Tossing in sleep, face contorted, he entered again into the chronic nightmare, as a shadowy figure loomed over the contorting sleeper, whispering the word, “eingeschlossen,” into his ear. Shouts of “Verurteilt! Verurteilt!” cleft the dream ether with death-metal volume. The same haunting dream again and again … as if on schedule - a forcible voice of mixed German and English screamed in his sleepy ear, “Verurteilt! Verurteilt! Sie peice von scheiße sogenannt nazi! A deal! Wir hatten ein Abkommen! Get me out!” Jarred out of his bed and slammed to the floor in terror, he struggled to his feet and stumbled away from the Satanic figure with glowering red eyes. Running like a mad dog from the menacing black figure in pursuit, he stumbled and looked over his shoulder again and again. Somewhere in the back of the mind, he knew he’d done this countless times before. Same stumbling flight, same black monster in chase, same shouts of “Verurteilt!” over and over again. “What do you want??” he turned and shrieked … “what’s this Wir hatten ein Abkommen!, what is this deal that you talking about?? I know no deal! Leave me be … God!!!!” As the dream faded, the black hulk screamed, “We had a deal! You rascal, when are you going to complete your end of the deal!...” the cry faded as painful yet welcome wakefulness returned to the tortured man. He woke, and though he seemed shaken, still he knew now it was only a ridiculous dream, and he never cowered to anyone – never. But, what is this word “eingeschlossen,” what does it mean? He told himself that he wasn’t afraid, but his sweat soaked pillow told himself another story – a story painfully heard – yet so hard to … so reluctant to digest.
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