Witches of Rascar Pablo: Part II

Chapter 9: The A-frame

9:07 pm Friday, May 19, 1984 (PDT)
Grants Pass, Oregon

Lucas awoke with an erection, and his hand on some woman’s breast. Startled, he backed himself up against the passenger door and let out an awkward, involuntary scream.

Harmony quickly composed herself. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” she said, “I’m sorry. I thought you liked me.”

“Where am I?” asked Lucas. His eyes, wide-open, rapidly panned the inside of the Volkswagen.

“What happened to your accent?”

“Huh?”

“You ran away from the hospital,” she said. “You don’t remember meeting me in the woods?”

“Where am I?”

“I offered you a ride home. You told me your name was Carlos… you were talking with an accent.”
Lucas looked at the strange clothes he had on – a red flannel, buttoned to the top, a gold chain around his neck, blue jeans, brand new tennis shoes. “These aren’t my clothes.” Then he saw the pistol in the glove box.

There was a moment of silence, and then Lucas jumped out and ran into the darkness.

“Wait,” shouted Harmony.

Lucas ran head on into someone.

“Lucas?”

“Benny?”

Harmony turned on her headlights and saw Benny with his arm around Lucas. Rachel and Orion stood not-so-far off, with their hands shielding their eyes from the glare of the headlights.

Harmony slipped the pistol into the front of her skirt and went out to them. “You know each other?” she asked.

Benny looked at her. “Who’s she?” he asked Lucas.

“I… don’t know,” said Lucas, panting, “I just… woke up… in her car.”

“Who are you?” Benny started toward her.

Harmony lifted her shirt, revealing the pistol. Benny stopped, backed away.

“I’m Harmony. I found him in the woods behind the hospital. He seemed lost and I offered him a ride. Are you his family?”

Benny looked her up and down confusedly. Orion became excited, snapped his fingers, grunted.

“Did he also run away from the hospital?” asked Harmony, referring to Orion.

“We have to get out of here,” said Benny, as if he had understood Orion perfectly. He looked at Harmony. “Can you give us a ride?”

Harmony put her hands on her hips. “Well… where to? I mean… I would prefer to not go back into town.”

“Hridin valolay!” said Orion.

“Hidden Valley?” said Benny. He looked at Harmony. “Can you take us to Hidden Valley?”

Harmony rolled her eyes and tossed her hands up. “Sure, why not.”

* * *

3:30 pm Friday, May 19, 1984 (PDT)
Grants Pass, Oregon

Jon’s dad drove with Jon and Paul to Paul’s house.

“I think I better talk to your parents,” said Jon’s dad, before Paul could get out. “With everything that happened with you two today, I don’t see how it can be avoided.”

Paul’s stomach dropped. “Do you have to?” he pleaded. “My dad is… like… not gonna be happy.”

“Paul’s dad has a really bad temper,” said Jon.

Jon’s dad looked at Jon, and then back at Paul, and then at Paul’s black eye. “I see.”

On seeing that no one was home, Jon’s dad decided to wait in the driveway for Paul’s parents to return. After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Jon’s dad said, “Tell me everything that happened.”

Jon went through it all again.

“I’m finding this all very hard to believe.” Jon’s dad looked at Paul. “Do you have anything to add, Paul, before I talk to your parents?”

Paul removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know… no,” he said after a few seconds.

Jon’s dad sat looking at the two in disbelief. “I don’t like the idea of you two messing around with a dead body. Suppose they think you had something to do with it?”

“But he was already dead for at least three hours when we found him,” said Jon.

“How do you know that?” said Jon’s dad.

“Because his neck and his jaw were already all stiff, so rigis morter was already starting.”

“Rigor mortis,” corrected Jon’s dad. “We need to report this right away, otherwise we could be in trouble. Paul can come over, but only until he gets a hold of his parents – I want him to call home every twenty minutes.”

On arriving at Jon’s house, Jon’s dad went straight to the phone and began dialing, and Jon and Paul went to the living room to play Famicon. In-between rounds of Street Fighter, Paul ogled the interesting gadgets and piles of books around Jon’s living room.

“You’re putting me on hold again?!” they heard Jon’s dad shout from the kitchen.

“Hey,” said Jon, “you wanna see something?”

“Sure,” said Paul.

Jon dropped the remote control and sprinted into the dining room to where his dad kept his latest invention and saw that it wasn’t there.

“Dad,” shouted Jon, “where’s the nail gun?”

“It’s in the car,” Jon’s dad shouted from the kitchen. “In the trunk.”

“Can I show Paul?”

“Not now!”

“Oh well,” said Jon, “my dad must’ve taken it for a test run today.” Jon picked up a large iron nail from off the dining room table and handed it to Paul. “It shoots these.”

Paul tossed it up and down in his hand. It was about eight inches long and as big around as his index finger. “It’s heavy,” said Paul.

“You should see how heavy the actual gun is. I can barely even lift it. He’s gonna call it the The Nailrail – that was my idea – because it works the same way as a railgun. He let me try it out on some two-by-fours last week. I shot a nail clean through a stack of three of ‘em. You don’t even have to be that close, too. My dad shot it at a tree from twenty feet away and it sunk the nail. He’s gonna try to patent it.”

Paul’s attention went to the massive Detective’s Handbook sitting on the dining room table. He opened it and thumbed through it.

“My dad gave me that,” said Jon.

“You have… like… the coolest dad ever,” said Paul.

“Not really. He embarrasses the hell out of me sometimes. You should see how people look at him when we go to the hardware store… when he talks about his inventions. It’s so damn embarrassing.”

“Sorry for calling you a wannabe Sherlock.”

“That’s okay. Sorry for punching you.”

“It’s cool.”

“Paul,” Jon’s dad shouted from the kitchen. “Time to call home.”

* * *

8:30 pm Friday, May 19, 1984 (PDT)
Grants Pass, Oregon

Several hours had gone by and Paul’s parents weren’t answering. Nor could Jon’s dad get through to anyone at the police department or the Sheriff’s office. They were hungry and Jon’s dad offered to take them to get a pizza.

They drove toward the pizza place off of Redwood Highway. The town seemed quiet that night. Jon and Paul listened with enthusiasm as Jon’s dad told them stories from when he worked as an assistant to a private investigator in San Francisco. From drugs and human trafficking, to religious fanatics and terrorism, Jon’s dad had many stories.

“Hey,” interrupted Paul, gesturing toward the strip mall to their left. “What’s going on at Fred Meyers?”

There were two police cars parked out front with their lights flashing. Jon’s dad pulled into the parking lot, turned off his headlights, and they sat and watched.

“Can we try the scanner?” asked Jon.

“Sure,” said his dad.

Jon flipped the switch on the dash that activated the police scanner, and turned the dial until the chatter was comprehensible.

The dispatcher said, “… attention all units – be on the lookout for a teal Volkswagen bus – license plate alpha tango elephant niner fiver rawlings… attention all units… wanted in connection with two code 187’s… officer Warren Jacobs and Sheriff Clive Wilson…”

“What’s that mean, dad,” asked Jon. “Is it anything about Lucas?”

Jon’s dad shushed him and continued listening. “Sheriff Wilson and another police officer are dead,” he said. “Both their bodies were found in the woods behind the hospital.” He threw his hands up in resignation. “They found him before we could report him!”

Jon and Paul exchanged glances.

Jon’s dad started the engine and began to pull out.

“Where are we going?” asked Paul.

“I will take you home,” said Jon’s dad. “Whatever’s going on just became much more serious, and I’m sure your parents would want you home.”

Jon and Paul broke into an onslaught of protests. “But I don’t want to go home,” said Paul, “my dad won’t care.”

“I doubt that is true,” said Jon’s dad.

“Could we at least ask those police if they know anything about Lucas,” said Jon, referring to the two officers standing in front of Fred Meyers.

Jon’s dad rolled down to where the two policemen stood. Both officers had on sunglasses – which was strange, since it was dark out – and neon pink earplugs.

“Wait here,” said Jon’s dad as he got out of the car and walked over to them.

The officers turned and regarded him. Both had swollen brows and abnormally chapped lips.

“I was wondering if there was any news about Lucas Messner, the boy who went missing from the hospital – he’s a friend of my son’s.”

The taller of the two officers mimicked him word-for-word, mocking his Chinese accent.

“Please,” Jon’s dad glared at them, “can you just answer my question?”

The cop removed his sunglasses and revealed his strained, bloodshot eyes. He placed his index fingers on the outer corners of his eyes and stretched them until they were slits, “Prease, can you just answer my questern?” he mimicked, again.

“Why’re you wearing sunglasses? It’s dark out,” said Jon’s dad.

“Why’re you wearing sunglasses? It’s dark out.” said the cop.

Then there was no delay between Jon’s dad and the cop’s mimicking.

“And why do you have earplugs?” they said, simultaneously. “There is no loud noise.”

The words echoed around Jon’s dad’s head as if they were being broadcast over an intercom in a chasm of bent acoustics. His legs buckled, and he put his hands over his ears as if trying to stop something from entering them.

A pickup pulled into the parking lot with its high-beams on. The light was sobering to Jon’s dad – it was like coming out of a trance – he was no longer dizzy. But the light was devastating to the cop who’d removed his sunglasses – he screamed, fell to his knees, and bled from his nose.

The cop who hadn’t removed his sunglasses drew his gun and fired several shots at the oncoming pickup. “Turn off your brights, asshole,” he shouted.

Jon and Paul sat and watched from the car, paralyzed with fear.

Jon’s dad pulled the taser from the belt of the incapacitated cop and loosed the electrodes into the groin of the other, who then jerked and spasmed before hitting the pavement. The pickup went into reverse and then peeled out of the lot. Jon’s dad, using their own handcuffs, bound the two unconscious officers back-to-back.

Jon and Paul came tumbling out of the car.

“Get back in the car,” shouted Jon’s dad.

* * *

9:33 pm Friday, May 19, 1984 (PDT)
Grants Pass, Oregon

Hidden Valley sat at the foot of a small forest-covered mountain. Orion seemed to have a coherent system of slurs and gestures for giving directions which Benny was becoming more familiar with. The ragtag group wound up the mountain on a narrow dirt road that ran, most of the way, between knotted thickets of blackberries, pines and manzanita. They were about three-quarters of the way up when Orion directed them into a green and lush enclave, where ferns and wheat grass covered the ground, and thick moss covered old pines and cedars. There were some trees that looked especially other-worldly. Orion grunted.

“I think he’s saying he wants us to stop here,” said Benny.

When they reached a point past which driving further was impossible, they got out of the van. They followed Orion on foot into the darkness until they came upon a rotting A-frame of a shack.

“I don’t want to go in there,” said Lucas to Benny.

“I don’t think any of us do,” said Rachel.

Orion went in and lit the candles and lanterns, and the small ten-by-ten foot room filled with a soft flickering glow. The others entered and were taken aback at the intricacy of a whole makeshift system of shelving, almiras, and chests of drawers, each supporting its own assortment of herbs contained in glass jars, with labels written in Spanish on masking tape. Slabs of mismatched carpet covered the rotting wood floor, the air was damp and cool, and smelled of mildew. Orion gestured for them to sit down. They were all exhausted and practically collapsed around the rickety coffee table in the center.

Orion held his sleeve to the window sill and the bat crawled out of it and into the crevice.

“Oh my God,” said Harmony, “Is that a bat he had up his sleeve?”

Lucas sat with his back to the chest of drawers, scanning the inside of the shack. “This place is weird,” he whispered to Benny.

“What the fuck happened to you at the hospital?” said Benny.

“I don’t know,” Lucas put his palms to his temples, trying to think, “I can’t remember anything after… after going for the exam… the EP exam… or whatever it was called.”

“And where’d you get those clothes?” Benny said with a smirk. “You look like a vato.”

Lucas looked down at the clothes he had on and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know.”

“Anybody got a cigarette?” asked Harmony.

Rachel pulled a crumpled pack of Camels from her pocket. “I only have one left,” she said. “Can we share it?”

“Hallelujah. Thanks.”

Rachel handed it to her along with a Bic lighter, and inadvertently saw that the woman wasn’t wearing underwear.

Harmony clapped her legs together. “Oops!” She lit the cigarette and took a drag.

“I know where he got those clothes,” said Harmony. Thick smoke rolled out of her nostrils as she spoke. She looked at Lucas. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Lucas looked at her and shook his head. “No.”

“You are trippin’ me out, little man.”

Orion came and opened one of the drawers above Lucas’s head. He pulled out a bag of Reese’s Pieces and tossed them into Rachel’s lap.

“Thanks,” said Rachel. She opened the bag, took one and then passed it around. They all took some.

Harmony told them about the cop in the woods, Fred Meyers, and the seemingly alternate personality who called himself Carlos. The others listened in astonishment as they ate the Reese’s.

Benny and Rachel then told of the giant mushroom in the woods by the pit, and their rendezvous with the Sheriff that ended with his demise.

They all sat in silence, stupefied.

Orion rummaged through another drawer and pulled out a notepad. He jotted something down and showed it to Benny.

“You know those nightmares you’ve been having?” said Benny to Lucas.

“Yeah,” said Lucas.

“Well… he wants to know… where do you go?”

“What? Why’s he want to know that? How does he even know about that? You told him?”

“No.” Benny shrugged. “I don’t know. He says he wants to know.”

Lucas buried his face in his hands, sighed, and then looked up. “But I don’t even know where I go in those nightmares.”

Orion pulled Lucas’s drawing from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to him.

“That’s where it went!” Lucas tore the drawing from him. “Why’d you take it?”

Orion grunted and slurred before scribbling more words.

“He wants to know if you can go back to the place where you saw this,” said Benny, with his mouth full of Reese’s, referring to the drawing.

“That place is my nightmare,” exclaimed Lucas. “Whenever I go there I get stuck, and I can’t wake up… or… I can… but it’s really hard to, and it takes a long time.”

Orion spewed more gibberish, scribbled more words.

“He says if you can go there one more time he can make the nightmares stop for good,” said Benny.

“What is this?” said Lucas. “What the fuck are you talking about? Is this… like… a joke, or something?” Lucas stormed out of the shack. Benny followed him.

“Lucas,” shouted Benny. “I really think he’s telling the truth.”

Lucas stopped, turned to Benny. “Why? How do you know?”

“I know… I saw…”

Rachel came out. “It’s true,” she said. “I saw it too.”

“So… what’s up with you and this Harmony chick?” asked Benny, with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s weird.”

“I don’t know,” said Lucas. “I told you, I just woke up in her car.”

“You really can’t remember anything?”

“No.”

“Not any of that stuff she says you did together?”

“Have you seen Paul?” Rachel interrupted.

“No,” said Lucas. “Not since before the hospital.”

She gave a nod of disappointment. They reentered the shack.

Orion snapped his fingers and wheezed. “Carsl… carsl… carsl…”

“What’s he saying now?” asked Harmony.

“I don’t know,” said Benny. “I can’t understand.”

Orion turned to Lucas. “Carsl! Carsl!”

Lucas looked at Benny.

Benny looked at Orion and pointed to the sketch pad.

Orion grew impatient. He took a small bone pipe from the shelf and loaded the bowl with a pinch of something from one of the leather pouches on his necklace. He picked up one of the lit candles, set the flame to the bowl, and inhaled. His back straightened when he exhaled. A thick cloud of cool menthol filled the room. He looked at Lucas with massively dilated pupils.

“Carlos,” he said with a sudden clarity of speech. “Have you spoken to Carlos?”

They all stared in awe. “You can talk now?” asked Benny.

“That must be some good shit,” said Harmony. “Can I try some?”

“Who’s Carlos?” interrupted Benny.

“I thought he was Carlos,” said Harmony, pointing to Lucas.

Orion pulled a small jar labeled “convocar” from a drawer in the coffee table, and then a larger empty jar from atop a stack of old books.

“Orina,” said Orion. “Pee.”

“You want someone to pee in the jar?” asked Benny, chuckling.

Orion gave a serious nod.

An awkward silence ensued. Nobody offered.

“Anyone wanna pee in this guy’s jar?” said Benny, still chuckling.

“Whatever,” said Harmony with a sigh. “I have to pee anyway.”

She took the jar, slid off her skirt, squatted over it and started peeing.

“Jesus!” said Benny. He put his hand over Lucas’s eyes. “Couldn’t you have done that outside?”

Orion took the urine and placed a small amount together with some of the powder from the jar labeled “convocar” into a small wooden bowl and used the butt-end of the plastic Bic lighter to mash it into a paste. He scooped up the resulting paste with a metal spoon and placed it over the open flame of a lit candle until it dried into salt-like crystals. He held the spoon up to Lucas’s face.

“I’m not gonna eat that, it has pee in it,” said Lucas.

Orion blew the powder into Lucas’s face. Lucas sneezed.

“Ay cabrónes!” came the voice of Carlos. “What’s with all the noise?”

Orion spat. “Dónde estuviste?”

“Estuve durmiendo,” answered Carlos, “no he dormido por días, Jefe.”

“Who’s he talking to?” asked Benny.

“You can’t hear that?” asked Lucas. “Someone is talking in Spanish – you can’t hear it?”

“No,” said Benny.

Orion asked Carlos, “Tenés el mazo?… The mace – where is it?”

“I don’t get it,” said Rachel. “Who’s he talking to?”

“No te preocupes, Jefe,” answered Carlos. “It’s in the car.” Then he addressed Lucas, “Can you hear me, amigo?”

“Huh?” Lucas nervously scanned the room. “Where are you?”

“Are you ready?” asked Carlos. “Estás listo?”

“Ready for what?” asked Lucas.

“To go back to your bad dream.”

Lucas gulped, glanced sidelong at Orion. “You can hear him too?”

Orion nodded.

Lucas hesitated. “You can really make my nightmares stop?”

“Sí,” said Carlos, “he can.”

Benny looked dumbfounded as he watched his brother conversing with someone he couldn’t see or hear.

Orion looked at Harmony. “Las cosas en tu carro,” he said. “We need the things in your car.”

“You mean those coat-hangers and wine crystals?”

“Everything.”

Benny and Rachel helped Harmony carry in the stolen merchandise from the Volkswagen bus. Orion pulled two jars from an almira, one labeled “hueso” containing two live tadpoles, and another labeled “sueño lúcido” containing rust-colored flakes, and a spool of thread. He opened the jars and transferred their contents into separate porcelain saucers. He took a small mushroom from the pouch on his necklace, chewed it up and spat it into the saucer containing the two tadpoles. He held the saucer up to Lucas’s mouth. “Drink,” he said. “And remember to breathe.”

Benny leaned into Orion and whispered, “I don’t care what happens to me, but if you hurt my brother I’ll crack your head open.” Then he turned to Lucas. “It’s up to you.”

Lucas took a deep breath, hesitated for a moment, and then drank. Orion took it away after one tadpole went down, so that one remained in the dish. Lucas’s face contorted as he tried to keep from throwing it up. Orion took Lucas’s hands, opened them, palms up. “Look at your palms,” he said, “for thirty seconds – don’t blink!”

Lucas looked at his palms. A pain churned in his stomach. Everything became blurry. The creases in his palms flashed bright purple, burned their pattern into his mind. He felt something on his arm. He looked at it and saw a small lump where the tadpole was burrowing under his skin. He started hyperventilating as he watched it inch toward his right hand. And then it was gone. The pain subsided, and he collapsed onto the floor, his head falling into Harmony’s lap.

Harmony ran her fingers through is hair. “Oh… poor kid… What’d you do to him?”

Benny paced nervously about the tiny room.

Orion took a spoonful of the red flakes from the jar labeled “sueño lúcido” and added a few drops of water. He held the spoon to Lucas’s mouth. “La última cosa,” he said. “Last one.”

Lucas ingested the contents of the spoon.

Orion had the spool of horse hair out and was threading a needle with it. He took the remaining tadpole from the saucer and ran the needle through its tale, tied it off, and then returned it to the saucer where it swam circles with the length of horse hair trailing off from behind.

Lucas was fast asleep in Harmony’s lap. His eyes opened suddenly, and he sat up.

“Hola, chica.”

“Carlos?” said Harmony. “Is that you?”

“Sí, soy yo.”

“It is you!” she said, throwing her arms around him. “Where’d you go?”

“Wo!… easy, chica,” said Carlos, jokingly. “Remember what happened last time!”

“Nothing happened, silly,” she said, blushing.

Benny looked dumbfounded at Lucas. “Why’re you talking like that?”

“Like what?” answered Carlos.

“With that weird accent.”

“No,” said Harmony, “this is Carlos – not Lucas.”

“Mucho gusto,” said Carlos, offering up Lucas’s hand for Benny to shake.

Benny ignored the gesture, sat back down next to Rachel with a confused look. He leaned over, whispered to her, “Do you think he might have… like… multiple personality disorder, or something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” said Rachel. “We both saw things today, right? Impossible things.”

“Yeah,” said Benny. He scratched his head, looking in awe at his little brother, when suddenly something flew into the side of the A-frame and burst into flames.

“What the hell was that?” cried Rachel.

Orion looked out the window. “Carlos,” he cried, “The mace! Hurry!” He took the bat from the crevice in the windowsill where it slept and chucked it out the window. It immediately took flight. He then took two jugs of water from the corner and stormed out with them.

Benny and Rachel peered out the window.

“Shit,” said Benny, “I think that was a Molotov cocktail.”

Orion dowsed the flames on the outside of the shack with water. The bat went directly to the source of the projectile, let out a high-pitched shriek. A boy wearing sunglasses and earmuffs leapt from behind some bushes and ran into the thick of some trees. The bat followed him. From there came a terrible scream, and then silence.

Carlos dug into the stolen merchandise. Within minutes he had bent and twisted the entire bundle of wire coat-hangers into a tree-like structure with many branches, each having several circular rungs into which he was placing the crystal brandy-snifters. Harmony offered to help. He showed her how to set the crystal glasses into the rungs, and then he moved on to modifying the guitar and amp.

On hearing the terrible scream, Benny and Rachel came out from the shack to see what it was. Orion approached with the bat perched on his shoulder, and a limp, seemingly dead youth in tow.

The boy looked no older than eight or nine years. One of the lenses of his sunglasses was shattered, his earmuffs had fallen down around his neck, and his ears looked like they’d been deliberately packed full of mud.

“Is he dead?” asked Rachel.

“Yes,” said Orion. “There will be more of them.” The bat leapt from Orion’s shoulder and took off flying.

Rachel looked hysterical. She leaned against a tree, took deep breaths, tried to keep from hyperventilating.

“Did you kill him?” asked Benny.

“Bat killed him,” said Orion.

“He’s just a kid.”

“No,” said Orion. “Worm.”

Benny backed away from the dead child. “Lucas,” he shouted. “Get up! Get out here! We’re leaving!”

A stone whirred by Benny’s head and thumped into the side of the Volkswagen. Benny turned and saw more children hiding in the bushes. They were barely visible in the moonlight, most of them had on sunglasses, and had various objects covering their ears. More stones flew by. Benny charged them. “You little fucks! You like throwin’ rocks?!”

Rachel started after Benny.

“No,” shouted Orion. “Do not go to them!” He took Rachel by the arm, pulled her behind the Volkswagen, taking cover from the incoming projectiles.

The kids charged Benny like a pack of rabid dogs. One kid cracked a baseball bat against his legs. Another jumped onto his back and tried to strangle him.

Benny swung his fists and hit nothing. “God damn it,” he shouted.

“God damn it!” mimicked one little girl. Her pigtails were frayed and riddled with dirt and pine needles, her lips partially chewed away, her gums bloody.

The kid wielding the baseball bat cracked it against Benny’s arm.

“I’m gonna knock your fucking head off,” he shouted.

“I’m gonna knock your fucking head off!” mimicked the little girl.

Her voice echoed around Benny’s head. He became dizzy. His legs wobbled and he fell to the ground. More of them immediately pounced and bit into him with their little eight-year-old teeth.

“Wait!” pleaded Benny.

“Wait!” taunted the little girl. Her shrill voice echoed deeper, stabbed into his thoughts like impending doom. Then the sound of a guitar blasted through the area. It was no ordinary strum. It left the ambient air electric and full of tingly vibrations. The kids scattered, screamed in agony. Only the little girl with pigtails stayed. She opened her mouth, released a high-pitched scream that sounded like knives against a chalkboard. Benny covered his ears, cried out in pain. Another guitar strum blasted through them. The little girl’s scream morphed into a terrible moan, her body spasmed, blood exploded from her nose and mouth, her legs buckled and she fell to the ground.

Benny dragged her body to where the other dead child lay, set her body next to his. Orion and Rachel examined her.

“I think she’s dead too,” said Benny.

“Yes,” said Orion, with a gleam in his eye. “Carlos has built the mace.”

On their way back to the shack they noticed the engine of the Volkswagen was idling and an orange extension cord ran from its battery to the shack. They entered the shack, saw Carlos on top of the coffee table, a Stratocaster in his hands, wires trailing from it to the coat-hanger tree of brandy-snifters, and then to the amp where the orange extension cord terminated.

“Are you still Carlos?” asked Benny, somewhat sarcastically, unable get past that it wasn’t his little brother.

“Sí,” said Carlos. “Any requests?” He strummed the guitar again, the crystal whined and twanged, and sent tingles up everyone’s spine. Harmony sat cross-legged next to the amp, bobbing her head to the beat, applying electrical tape to the severed wires of the car amp where Carlos had modified it.

A window shattered as the sound of a gunshot rang out. Carlos fell to the floor and cried out, “Puta madre, cabrón!”

“Shit,” cried Benny. He went over to him and pulled the denim pant leg away from the wound. Blood gushed from it. He tore the sleeve from his shirt and made a tourniquet. Carlos, in pain, tried strumming the guitar again, but the amp was silent. He looked toward the amp and could see the smoking hole in the power converter where the bullet landed after sailing clean through his calf.

Orion held out his hand to Harmony. “Dame el cohete,” he shouted. “Give me the gun!”

She pulled the revolver from her back pocket, handed it to him. He stormed out. More gunfire rang out. Benny looked out the window and saw a dark-skinned youth fall from the branches of a madrone and land in a thicket.

Benny went out to him. “Deezer?”

His best friend was lying face up in a thicket of dead thorn bush, still gripping the plastic Glock, with a gunshot wound in his side. Orion stood next to him with the 357 locked on him.

“He goes to the boy in the place on the hill and… he goes to place on the boy in the hill and… he goes to the boy… on the hill and…” said Deezer, monotonously.

“Did you shoot Lucas?” asked Benny. He knelt down, tore the Glock from Deezer’s thorn-riddled hand. “I thought you were my friend.” He pressed the barrel to Deezer’s forehead, tried to pull the trigger, but couldn’t. “I can’t do it,” he said. He stood, took a step back, and looked at Orion, bewildered.

“Not your friend,” said Orion, still taking aim. “Worm.”

“You do it,” said Benny.

Orion pulled the trigger. The bullet blasted though Deezer’s forehead. The monotonous ramblings ceased. Orion turned and started back to the shack. Benny stood and watched his friend bleed out, a tear rolled down his cheek.

Conclusion of this story will be posted on 04/01/2024!

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