Visitors
BLOOD DRIPPED into my eyes. No amount of blinking or head twisting could stop it. Pressed into the floor, my face itched from the sour sock carpet. Across the room, a hushed TV voice forecast gusting winds in the morning. With some urgent twists and kicks, the tape around my ankles loosened enough that soon I worked my legs free. On my feet, my reflection in the mirror over the dresser wasn’t good. That guy looked messed up. Blood on his face. Silver tape across his mouth. Hands lashed behind his back.
Fuck you, Simon Trang. Fuck you. Pop up when I don’t need you. Tell me you’re always in the wings. Never around when you should be. Fuck you. Fuck you. I vowed I’d never speak to him again. Useless.
The edge of the bathroom counter was sharp enough to saw my wrists free of tape. My hands broke the tape and flew apart at the same moment Archie came around the corner, shotgun ready. Deer peeked out from behind his shoulder.
“You okay?” she said.
I nodded and said, “He’s lost his mind.”
“No. I saw his gun in the diner and thought about what you said. So, I put the ayahuasca in his coffee. He’s fucked up.”
She touched the gash across my forehead. It hurt, deep and wet. Albert lurked by the door. He shook his mangy head. You should’ve come with us. None of this would’ve happened. If you never listen, you’ll never learn. Self-righteous mutt was getting on my nerves.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “this has nothing to do with you. Dump me in the desert and pretend you never saw me.”
Archie grunted. “That’s bullshit,” he said. “You have anything else to tell us?”
“I’m in deep trouble with a bunch of drug dealers,” I said. “It was their car I wrecked. It was full of their dope when it caught fire. You never asked, so I never talked about it.”
Archie nodded. He knew it was true. They’d never asked. It was part of their code. Everyone free. Everyone equal. No past. No judgement. In future, they might be more interested in the stories their visitors had to tell.
“Is this the end of it?” he said.
“No,” I said, “there’s another one coming.”
“And then?”
“It depends how that goes.”
“All right,” Archie said, “we’ll get through it.”
“You should know the duck watcher is in on it. He’s been waiting for this part to start. His name’s Trang. He’s a narc with a secret cross-border task force.”
Archie sighed and brushed the dog aside with his foot to get out of the room.
We left Deer back at the diner and headed for the ranch. Outside Moab, we passed Eagle Creek on all fours by the side of the road. Puking. Archie stopped the truck. He studied the wretch through the rear-view mirror. After a while, Archie pulled a tire iron from under the seat.
“Come with me,” he said.
We approached the naked figure with caution. He was, after all, a known killer and violent freak act. Eagle Creek seemed unaware of our presence. He continued his crawl along the side of the road, oblivious to the sharp gravel that cut his hands and knees. We stepped along beside him.
“You’re not doing so well,” Archie said.
Eagle Creek grimaced. He grasped for a rock and clutched it like a weapon.
“I’ve been to war,” Archie said, “where I learned some things.”
Eagle Creek started to raise his arm like he wanted to strike out with the rock. Archie stepped on the man’s arm with his cowboy boot and knelt down with the tire iron wedged under Eagle Creek’s jaw. Old Archie: nimble and dangerous. Eagle Creek growled, immobile. Archie pushed the tire iron a bit harder, like he meant to pop Eagle Creek’s head off.
“Arch,” I said, “take it easy.”
Archie said, “I learned you can’t go around kidnapping and threatening to kill folks without retribution. I also learned I can forgive, if you let me. If you give me a reason. So, what’s it going to be? Are you ready to let this go? Surrender or retribution, motherfucker?”
Eagle Creek blinked fast a couple of times. The rock slipped from his fist. He slumped to the ground, his face sideways in the gravel. Archie poked him with his foot.
“Okay, brother, I forgive you, too,” Archie said and turned to walk back to the truck.
“We can’t leave him here,” I said.
“The hell we can’t,” said Archie.
Eagle Creek seemed unconscious.
“I wanted him to surrender. Say uncle. I don’t care what he does now,” said Archie.
The night he’d driven me in the rain, Eagle Creek had been animated and seemed concerned for my well-being. Laughing. Joking. Dangerous, sure. But also helpful. Now that he was naked and unconscious, he posed no threat. Though I’d hated and feared him, I also felt a twinge of compassion.
“Let’s take him to the ranch. Give him to Mike for repair. Dry him out.”
“You hear that?” Archie said to Eagle Creek. “He wants to save you. Give you sanctuary. After what you did to him.”
No response. Archie turned to me. “There ain’t nothing here that deserves saving. Let’s go.”
It felt right to save Eagle Creek, now that he was broken. Besides, as Hornsmith used to quote from Sun Tzu: keep your enemies close.
“You’re wrong,” I said. “Let’s take him in, and if Mike says no, we’ll cut him loose.”
Eagle Creek shuddered and twitched. Archie chewed his lip and scratched his ass, and after a long look at the sad sack of misery Eagle Creek had been reduced to, said, “I don’t like it, but I guess we could do that.”
We tossed Eagle Creek’s naked, puke-caked body in the back with Albert, who looked disgusted. Eagle Creek, drugged and limp, offered no resistance. We covered him with Albert’s old horse blanket and resumed the drive.
Back at the ranch, we locked Eagle Creek next to the barn in the steel cage Mike used for cougars and mountain lions. He didn’t kill predators around the ranch.
Here, Eagle Creek wouldn’t come to any harm while he rode out the tail of his trip, and he wouldn’t pose a threat to us should he still have the urge to kill when he came around. He twitched for a while between further bouts of dry heaves before curling up and falling asleep in the blanket. By then, Archie had gone home, and Mike had retreated into a deep trance. That left me alone to rock on the porch and think about this terrible day. Think about LA and Marla. Stay away, she’d said. Make them think you’re dead. It was too late for that.
Dawn never came. The sky faded up from darkness to grey to brown. Sand cyclones swirled around me when I tried to reach the house for breakfast. The side door to the barn banged in the wind. A dozen or more tumbleweeds as big as rolling men hurtled past. While the storm gathered, a motorcycle came up over the ridge. Its headlight cut a yellow swath through the dust. Had the visitors been recognizable, I’d have hidden in the cattails down by the river. Instead, curiosity made me stand and watch.
Two figures struggled to dismount. The first had an aura of sand and filth, kept at bay by a pair of dark-green goggles and a full-length blue-leather coat. In one hand was a long-barrelled revolver. The second person saddled over the motor-bike was Deer. Her hair swirled in the wind. With my hands up to protect my eyes from the sand, I peered through the tempest, undiscovered. Motionless in the steel cage across the yard, Eagle Creek watched the same sight, squinting to make sense of it. Through the swirling sand, Lover Man and Deer wrestled until he had her by the hair. He looked around for a moment. Then, he made his way to the main house, holding Deer in front like a shield.
Archie stepped onto the porch with his over-under at the ready. Without hesitation, Lover Man shot him. Point blank. No discussion. No mercy. Archie dropped the shotgun, sank to his knees, and slumped over sideways. Lover Man paid no further attention. He pushed Deer over the old man into the house. The door closed behind them. The house was swallowed by the sandstorm.
Considering the short work he’d made of Archie, it seemed certain we were all doomed to the same fate. Lover Man was here to cle
an up. We were loose ends. Including Eagle Creek, who’d failed to close the book on me. He had no way to escape should Lover Man see him in the cage. There was a chance, however, that with Eagle Creek out, we could improve our hope of survival. A desperate plan started to boil.
With the wind in my ears and dirt in my eyes, I crawled on my belly through the grass toward the cage, taking the long way around so as to remain hidden from the house. The plan was to free Eagle Creek and hopefully convince him to help me save Deer. He sat with his back to me, bars gripped in both hands, paying keen attention to Lover Man’s arrival. Pressed against the cage, I tossed a pebble to catch his attention.
Startled, Eagle Creek reeled, his face obscured by his knotted hair. His mouth open, teeth bared. His muscles like hard-plated armour that protected his naked body. He looked ferocious. The cage was barely large enough for him to move from side to side or turn around.
“I’m getting you out,” I said, unsure of sure what he’d do. I hoped he could be convinced that my danger was his, too. That we shared a common enemy. Best-case scenario, he’d go after Lover Man. He might also vanish in the wind. Disappear up the mountains to kill wild rabbits with his hands.
“If we don’t stop him, he’ll come for you,” I said. “You failed him. You’re no use to him now. He’s going to kill us all. I’m letting you out so you can get him before he gets you.”
Eagle Creek said, “I’d take him to hell with me if I could.”
“Yes, that’s the spirit,” I said.
The bolt that locked the cage slipped open with ease.
In seconds, Eagle Creek scampered out on all fours into the tall grass. Together, we scurried to a more secure spot behind the barn. From there, we had a clear view without the risk of being shot. Archie lay on the ground between us and the house. Hard to tell what shape he was in.
We leaned against the weathered barn boards and looked at each other. His face was expressionless. He’d done this killer business for a while. He’d be fine, even if he was still tripping, I told myself. What, if anything, he made of me, was impossible to say.
“Are you ready for this?” I said.
“That devil has done me much harm. I seek a reckoning.”
“Good.”
Although Archie remained down in the dirt, by now he’d crawled a distance through the dust to hide behind his truck for some cover. He rolled over onto his back. His chest heaved. His arm twitched from time to time. Alive for the moment.
“How about,” I said, “I go around back and throw some rocks through the windows so he’s drawn to the back of the house. Meantime you go for the shotgun and come through the front door shooting.” I pointed to where Archie had dropped the gun. “You’re better with weapons. When I hear shooting, I’ll come in through the back for the girl.”
Eagle Creek nodded. My slim plan passed his tactical analysis. It was flawed, but no alternative presented itself. There was nothing else to do. Eagle Creek had to deliver his attack.
The back of the house had three windows. Two big picture windows overlooking the valley, plus a smaller frosted one in between. From my vantage in the grass, Lover Man wasn’t near any of them. My mouth was dry. My throat felt tight. The rock in my hand was round and hard. It was a good distance, so it took a bit of a windup to hurl the rock. Glass exploded into the house. A second rock smashed the other window for good measure. The sound brought some clarity to events: right away, Lover Man’s silhouette stood framed in jagged glass until the sound of gunfire drew him away. That was my sign. I bolted across the stretch of grass. Go, go. Go before he kills us all, I told myself.
“Deer,” I called.
My legs churned through the tall grass. She appeared and waved in my direction. More gunfire came from another part of the house. Deer smashed the rest of the window with the end of a floor lamp. My hand extended to help her down. In the distance sounded the wop wop of an approaching helicopter. Simon Trang, no doubt, swooping in from the safety of his perch. His trap finally sprung.
“We have to go,” I said.
She’d have none of it. “Mike’s in the bedroom. We can’t leave him.”
Someone yelled in the house. It could’ve been in anger or it could’ve been in pain. Eagle Creek and Lover Man were in combat. Sounds of heavy objects being crashed about echoed through the halls. More shouts were exchanged. Deer didn’t react. She wanted me in there to dig Mike out.
“Hurry,” she said. “He’s in a trance and won’t budge. I can’t carry him by myself.”
I was going to die for Deer and Mike Pike. Pure souls and good hearts. That was the new plan when I climbed over the broken glass into the living room. Inside, there was a fire poker propped against the fireplace. I grabbed it.
I said, “I’m going down the hall.”
She nodded and let me past, poker ready. Around the corner, Eagle Creek and Lover Man had their hands around each other’s throats. A splintered cabinet littered the hall. The spent shotgun lay on the floor next Lover Man’s pistol. Lover Man had a hole in his coat. Blood leaked from his back. Lover Man broke loose from Eagle Creek’s grip, rolled across the floor, and recovered his weapon. He fired immediately. Eagle Creek darted through the house. Bullets flew overhead. The sour chemical smell of gunpowder burned the air.
There was a pause in the battle. Eagle Creek had vanished in the blue smoke that hung like a low morning mist. No target presented itself. Lover Man scanned the room for his foe. With his back turned, he hadn’t noticed me. My chance. I charged him with the poker held overhead. At the last moment, he spun to face me. Not what he’d expected. He opened his mouth to say something. I brought the poker down on his forehead, which split open, soft and wet, like a pumpkin. There was no resistance. He crumpled and fell.
Afterward, my ears rang in the silence. Deer emerged and knelt beside the fallen man. Outside, through the open door, the storm had let up. A helicopter stood in front of the house. It brought people. Most of them were armed with automatic weapons and dressed in jeans with tactical vests over T-shirts. One with a medic’s kit worked on Archie. Another, Trang, surveyed the scene. He took his time. He drew his gun, casual, and approached the house. I held back, concealed behind the door. I had no use for him. We were through. I stayed hidden, unwilling to have anything further to do with Trang’s business.
From this vantage, I watched Trang move around the wreckage. When he discovered Deer on the ground by Lover Man’s prostrate body, he signalled with his gun for her to move away. Trang poked the body with his foot.
“Leon?”
Lover Man groaned.
“Who hit your face, Leon?”
“Fuck you, Trang.”
Trang smiled, holstered his gun, and flipped a pair of handcuffs off his belt. He cuffed Lover Man’s wrist to his ankle and returned outside to confer with his associates while Mike materialized down the hall. I stepped out from my hiding spot to stop him.
“It’s under control, Mike,” I said. “These aren’t people you need to get involved with.”
“Such excitement,” he said, “disturbs my inner peace. Makes me mad up here.” He pointed to his head. “Where’s Archie?”
He pushed me aside and headed outside while Eagle Creek, wrapped in a green blanket like a cape, sprinted over the prairie into the hills, unseen by anyone but me.
Trang and the medic heaved Archie onto the rear seat of the helicopter. Two other men carried Lover Man from the house and hoisted him into a seat. The chopper fired up while Trang shouted something in Mike’s ear. He pointed at the house. Mike shook his head. No.
Trang looked around the ranch like the answer didn’t satisfy him. Something bothered him. I imagined he wanted me, but Mike hadn’t given me up. However, I couldn’t be sure. Finally, Trang climbed into the cockpit.
Dust swirled when the helicopter lifted. Mike stood in the vortex until he vanished in the whirling dirt wind. Next to the barn, Albert howled up at the departure of his master.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Nowadays …
I’M AN OLD HOUND who dreams by the fireplace of hunts past, weary legs uncontrollably quivering; I only bark in my sleep. Grey flecks in my muzzle. Soupy eyes. Wide, calloused paws. After Moab, I’d left behind the business of the Business for good. Since those days, I’ve minded my own business.
I travelled to Big Sur to live by the ocean in a little rented place. An old woman named Joycelyn put the ad in the Monterey County Weekly. I stepped off the Greyhound, I thumbed the local classifieds and called up. A little renovated garage between million-dollar oceanfronts.
Nowadays, a few ghostwriting gigs here and there pay the rent. Once in a while, I buy and sell a fast car to make some extra money. There are also odd jobs for Joycelyn and her millionaire friends. Mostly old ladies. Tending to the sunflowers type of thing. Nothing dangerous. Or interesting.
After Lover Man was jailed, I reckoned I might find my way back to Marla. For a while I asked myself, if I could hold her again, what would that be like? I suppose we could have done it with a little effort. And then what? It couldn’t be like before, all hot and confused. So much had changed for us. I tried to picture me and Marla, new in California. Nothing seemed clear. The heat was over. Those days had faded like an old love letter at the bottom of a trunk. Sometimes I hear her songs on the radio. Sounds like she’s doing fine.
I bought the Ducati. Occasionally, I tear along the Pacific Coast Highway or over the mountains for a long weekend in Moab. Eagle Creek settled there. He’s Joey Two Feathers again. Mike’s showing him the Middle Way. Archie healed, too. He has a new F-250 Lariat. It’s a good thing Albert is dead — the way Archie licks that truck clean, he would never have let that smelly creature ride in the back. I flirt with Deer, and for now she makes me sleep at the Apache Motel. We take it slow.
Akinwole calls me now and again. He’s a businessman himself these days. He did all right, Akinwole. A Cadillac dealership. Some gas stations. A kosher deli. He volunteers at a homeless shelter, too. Married with three kids of his own. He and Shirley Rose stay in touch. They talk almost every day, he says. And that’s where the problem lies. They’ve sent the Dipshit Kid to visit me.
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