Sonant

by A. Sparrow

  “Issues? He thought I was dead for Chrissakes. And then when he found out I was alive, it didn’t even faze him. I mean, what the fuck?”

  “Really, I’m sorry. I thought it would be a fun surprise.”

  “Fun.” Aerie hung her chin and laid Scotty’s bass gently back onto its case. Aaron put his fiddle back onto its rack. He rolled his head back and scanned the ceiling.

  “Mind if I play something?” said Paolo.

  “Go right ahead. Knock yourself out,” said Aaron.

  Paolo laid into an eerie, spacey blues. Aaron knitted his fingers and rested his chin on his fists. He cocked his head at Aerie. “Got a proposition for you.”

  “Shoot,” said Aerie.

  “Are you in touch … with Sari and those guys?”

  “Not with Sari or Eleni, but I can be.”

  “Listen, I’m ready to swallow my pride. That sonant … birdie … that Mal caught, if he brings it by tomorrow afternoon, and if the whole band comes, I’ll give full back pay. Triple bonus for Production. As if nothing ever happened.”

  Chapter 41: Stranded

  The Sentra coughed and sputtered when Aerie turned the key. It threatened to stall as she backed out of Aaron’s driveway. Once she slipped it into gear and built some speed, the engine smoothed and she resumed breathing.

  The evening at Aaron’s had messed with her head. Raising her Prescott from the dead seemed a miracle, something she never dreamed possible, yet there was the mythical bass of Scott LaFaro, risen from the ashes of his 1961 car wreck, to prove it could be done.

  What she couldn’t believe was that Aaron had the gall to invite Hollis without telling her. Who knows what would have happened had he shown up at the door? It was so typical of him to fail to make good on a promise. She had forgotten how infuriating he could be. How could he possibly think she had died?

  And then there was John, so earnest, yet so unconvincing with his warnings. Why would a bunch of religious types come after them with guns? It was only music. It wasn’t as if this was an abortion clinic.

  Certainly, these birdies were odd creatures. She could see how they might be taken as ungodly. How could these holy rollers know they were as natural and innocuous and perhaps as common as white-tailed deer?

  John was getting so obvious about his crush on her. There was something cute but pathetic about the way he snuck those little glances and smiles. It felt special being wanted, regardless of the source, especially when no one else in the world seemed to want her. If only she could feel the same way about him.

  Cryptic lights flickered on and off her dashboard. Nothing happened at first when she pressed the accelerator, but then it sprung back to life with a kick and surge.

  She patted the center console. “Hang on baby. We’re almost at the highway. And then it’s all downhill to Ithaca.”

  The lights of Route 13 beckoned like a landing strip as she roared down the dark tunnels of overhanging trees into the valley.

  ***

  Aerie’s car limped all the way back to the farm stand, engine lights flickering, stalling and restarting, coasting most of the way down the big hill just past Newfield. She rolled into the cinder parking lot, aiming for its one feeble street lamp. The car entered the pool of light and expired. A turn of the key drew only clicks.

  She looked down the dirt road and up at the wall of blackness where the boys were encamped. She wasn’t thrilled about going up there to find them. She tried calling Mal first, but got switched directly to voice mail. She tried Ron’s old phone number as well, but it was futile. His minutes had long run out and the number was no longer in service. If she wanted to see them she would have to hike up there alone in the dark.

  The night air was getting nippy. She pulled on a sweatshirt she found in her back seat, and over that a fleece. She fumbled around in her glove compartment and found a little flashlight with a piezoelectric hand crank.

  She left the security of the car and stood in the pool of light staring up at the ridge, summoning her courage. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of. But the dark was an entity to be feared in and of itself.

  Crashing through the woods at night probably wasn’t the wisest course of action, but she pictured Ron and Mal up on the ridge top sitting around that campfire toasting marshmallows. Knowing that they were only a short hike away galvanized her. They needed to be told.

  She rehashed her understanding with Aaron. If she could get the entire band plus the birdie over to his place by five tomorrow, all order would be restored: Ron would get the money he needed to pay off Julius, Mal could move back into town, and the birdie would once again sing and grow. This was to be her mission.

  As she started off down the dirt road, her heart rebounded off her sternum as her heart rate ramped up like a sprinters. It was chilly enough without those drips of perspiration trickling down her side.

  It was sheer silliness, this fear of the dark. What was there to be afraid of? It wasn’t as if this neglected dirt track was some prime location for muggers and rapists. How ridiculous.

  The only wildlife she’d be likely to encounter would be some foraging possum or skunk. If she made enough noise, the critters should have enough sense to scurry out of her way.

  As for the sonants, that little puff of dust in the fish tank worried her less than the fact that she had not known such things existed before she met Aaron. If they inhabited this world, what else might prowl the night without her knowing? There might be other things less benign. Not knowing what she didn’t know was the scariest part of pressing into the darkness.

  At least, the landscape was not as devoid of light as it could be. A thick slice of quarter moon reflected off the pale dirt and glinted off the riffles of the creek. When she reached the ford, she splashed straight across, not bothering to take off her shoes or roll up her pants.

  She paused on the other side and listened intently to the forest, hoping to hear Mal’s horn or Ron’s guitar cut through the night like an audio beacon.

  She started up the slope. She veered left whenever she had the option, staying well away from the edge of the gorge this time, not only for safety, but because the sight of that lightless black maw freaked her out. Her flashlight began to fade. She frantically cranked it back to life.

  Unseen branches clawed and poked at her face. A trickle of blood ran down her chin. She pressed on upward till she finally reached the place where the slope leveled off. She had totally lost her bearings now.

  No campfire glowed. She heard none of the friendly banter she hoped would lead her to her friends. No strumming. No bamboo horn. Just the slow chirp of cold crickets.

  “Mal!” she called. “Ron!” There was no response.

  She stumbled back and forth along the shelf of land that topped the steepest slope. This had to be the contour where their camp had been, right at the inflection of slope and shelf. She walked right up to the place where the rocks broke through the soil and the gorge split open and stared down into the black and seemingly bottomless pit.

  Something trilled down below. She pointed her flashlight down into the void. A pair of glowing eyes shined back at her. She gasped and jumped back, though it was only a raccoon.

  She stepped away from the gorge, turned and collided with something dangling from a tree from a crinkly sack with something weighty and metallic inside. It was one of the poly sacks she and Ron had brought earlier that day. Mal must have hung it from a tree to prevent scavengers from getting at the food.

  So there she was, in the middle of their abandoned encampment. The beam of her flashlight crossed the tank harboring the sonant. She was curious how it was doing, but the sight of that sooty glass brought a shudder. She couldn’t bring herself to go near it.

  She stooped over the remains of the fire and laid the back of her hand against embers that were barely warm. It had probably had been hours since anyone had kept it burning.

  She expelled an exasperated sigh. “Oh, great.”

  What now? She
stared down through the trees at the sparse lights of Route 13 as they transitioned to the glow of Ithaca’s main strip. The boys had probably gone off scavenging. Why, she had no clue. There was no need, given all those groceries she had brought. They should be up here making ‘Smores by the fire, listening to her regale them with tales of her visit with Aaron.

  No way was she going to climb all the way back down. The boys would be back, soon she hoped. Too bad no live embers remained in the fire pit or she could have stoked it back up. She had no matches, no lighter of her own. A quick rummage about the camp revealed nothing with which to make a flame.

  She made her way to the tent, careful not to trip over the guide lines, unzipped it and climbed inside. It was full of musty clothes, a wool blanket and a sleeping bag. It all smelled a little bit musty, but not too bad, considering the level of Mal’s hygiene. She nestled into the bag, which was padded and insulated beneath by layers of corrugated cardboard. Cozy.

  She lay back and stared up at the silvery shadows cast by the moon, her flashlight clutched to her breast. She let her thoughts search their way to a calmer place as she listened to her heart wind down.

  ***

  Screams of utter terror awakened her. She scrambled and flicked on her flashlight. The flap of the tent was open. Ron peered at her from behind a tree. Mal lay on the ground having tripped over one of the guidelines. A crunched metal can hissed and sprayed a thin stream of beer.

  “Jeez guys! It’s just me.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Mal. “You gave us a heart attack.”

  “Where’d you guys run off to?” said Aerie.

  “Beer run.” Ron belched. “Want one?”

  “Not this very second,” said Aerie. “I just woke up.”

  “How’d it go with Aaron?” said Ron. “That new band of his any good?”

  “Nobody showed. Just this … bongo player.”

  “Bongos?”

  “Latin percussion. Bongos, congas, whatever. Listen. He wants us back. All of us, plus the birdie.”

  “Cool!” said Ron.

  “Wait a minute,” said Mal. “We sure that’s what we want?”

  “Hell yeah,” said Ron. “Best gig I ever had.”

  “It was your only gig, Ron,” said Mal.

  “Fuck off!”

  “You know what I was thinking?” said Mal. “Maybe we could work with the birdie ourselves. I mean, why do we need Aaron?”

  “These things need special attention,” said Aerie. “It’s hard to keep them going. Aaron says they fade if—”

  “But we know what to play,” said Mal. “We know what it likes. We just need more instruments. Maybe some better acoustics.”

  “It’s not just the music,” said Aerie. “They need the right dusts. And he says it helps to keep them in a vacuum.”

  “We can do all that. We just need the right gear.”

  “How’s it doing? Have you checked on it lately?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” said Mal. He went over to the fish tank and flicked on a little keychain light. He pressed his face close and squinted. “What the …? Where the fuck is it?”

  Ron hustled over. “Don’t tell me it escaped!”

  “No, it’s here,” said Mal, quietly. “It’s just … small … really small.”

  “Maybe it curls up when it’s sleeping?” said Ron.

  “Aaron says once they start to fade, it’s hard to stop them from … blinking out.”

  “Should I get my guitar?” said Ron.

  “We need to get it back to Aaron’s,” said Aerie. “And soon. Any idea how to reach Sari and Eleni?”

  “Sari might not even be in town,” said Ron. “Vida’s touring all over these days.”

  “One of us can sing,” said Mal.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Aerie.

  “I don’t know,” said Ron. “I like your voice. The birdie seemed to like it, too.”

  “It needs us,” said Aerie. “All of us. There was a reason why Aaron was so fussy about who played for him.”

  Mal sighed. “Sari’s a night owl.” He pulled out a thin black slab from his inside pocket—an iPhone.”

  The sight of it annoyed Aerie. “It might be nice if you turned that on once in a while.”

  “No way to charge it up here,” said Mal. “I need it for emergencies. I mean, what happens if I break my leg in the gorge?”

  “Don’t worry about the battery,” said Aerie. “I’ll bring it home and charge it. I’ll even buy you a spare.”

  Mal pressed the on button. The glow of his iPhone spread across their faces.

  Ron staggered off into the dark.

  “Don’t pee on the tent!” scolded Mal as he placed the call. He held the phone to his ear. His expression remained blank. “She’s not answering.”

  “Leave a message,” said Aerie.

  “It’s not worth it,” said Mal. “Sari never checks her voice mail.”

  He shuttled between apps. “She tweeted a few hours ago. Vida’s recording in Binghamton. That’s commuting distance. Could mean she’s staying in Ithaca.”

  “Send her an invite for tomorrow at Aaron’s,” said Aerie.

  “What do I say?”

  “Tell her Aaron forgives us. Production tomorrow at five. Full back pay. Triple bonus.”

  Mal’s fingers flashed. “Done.”

  “What about Eleni?”

  Mal and Ron looked at each other.

  “Eleni’s kind of a Luddite,” said Mal. “She practically lives off the grid on some hippie farm, between the lakes.”

  “Well, that sure narrows it down,” said Ron.

  “You mean, like a commune? Do those places still exist?”

  “You don’t know Ithaca very well, do you?”

  “Do a search. Maybe they have a directory.”

  “Woo-hoo! Sari just responded on Facebook: ‘Lovely to hear from you. Hope you are doing well. Afraid my schedule does not allow. TTFN.”

  “We need to talk to her,” said Aerie. “Tell her we’ll calling and she should pick up this time.”

  Mal composed the message and they waited.

  “Anything?” said Aerie, after a minute or so.

  “She’s ignoring us.”

  “Maybe she went to bed?” said Ron.

  “Call her!”

  Ron wandered back and fished another beer out of the twelve pack. He held up a can. “Anybody else want one?” Aerie ignored him.

  “Voice mail, again,” said Mal.

  “Jeez! What the heck’s her problem?” said Aerie.

  She looked out over the valley at a lonely set tail lights heading up into the hills. She wondered if that was Connecticut Hill she was looking at, or if it lay further beyond.

  “Post another message on her wall. Ask where we can send Aaron’s check.”

  “Checks?” said Ron. “We have checks?”

  “Pretend … we have a check for her,” said Aerie.

  “Brilliant,” said Mal, as he typed.

  “Think any of your skater friends know how to get in touch with Eleni?”

  “Doubt it,” said Ron. “They know her through me. That’s not her crowd at all.”

  “Hey-hey! It worked!” said Mal. “She we can drop it off at 54 Sunset Drive.”

  “Where the hell’s that?” said Ron.

  “Cayuga Heights,” said Mal. “As ritzy an address there is in Ithaca. We’re talking monster houses, lake views. Mowed a lot of lawns there my first summer in Ithaca. And I mean lawns with a capital L.”

  “She must have a new boyfriend,” said Ron.

  “We need to see her,” said Aerie. “Face to face.”

  “Now?”

  “She’s still up, isn’t she?”

  “Let’s at least wait for the sun to come up. Come on. Let’s have a beer.”

  ***

  When the beer was gone, Mal retreated to the tent, and his wheezing snore soon competed with Ron’s persistent prying about Aerie’s lost career. He circled the
fire and paced the clearing, growing ever more alert and antsy as the night wore on. His behavior made Aerie wonder if he had imbibed in something besides all that cheap beer.

  She lay curled on the ground, facing the fire, resting her head on an empty carton stuffed with leaves. Her front was toasty, but the chill lapping at her spine made her shiver, regardless.

  “Man, it must have been cool playing in a house band,” he said. “Playing every night. You must have gotten hit on a lot.”

  “Not as much as you might think. We played strip clubs. Upscale. Gentlemen’s clubs, they call them. You know it’s a fancy one when they have live jazz five nights a week. No way could I compete with those girls who worked there. I mean, can you imagine me with no makeup, baggy black shirts. Some guys would ask if I was lesbian.”

  “Well, are you?”

  Aerie sighed dismissively. “Does it matter?”

  “Maybe … to some of us.”

  “Tokyo, now that was different. It wasn’t just background music. People actually listened to us. Guys paid more attention to me, but it was more of a fan boy thing. They’d even ask me for my autograph. Can you imagine?”

  She rolled onto her back and noticed that the stars had gotten sparser. The sky was beginning to lighten.

  “How’d you like some breakfast?”

  “I think I finished the bread,” said Ron.

  “No, I mean like we go into town and get some omelets and shit? My treat.”

  “State Diner?”

  “We could, though there’s better places.”

  “Like where?”

  “Waffle Frolic, for one.”

  “That yuppie place?” Ron cringed, but then seemed to reconsider. “I gotta admit, it smells pretty good whenever I walk by.” He went over and batted the wall of the tent with his palms. “Mal! Wake up. Aerie’s buying us breakfast.”

  Mal groaned. Nylon rustled against nylon.

  “I’ll have to stay in the car,” said Ron. “But you guys can sneak me out a doggie bag.”

  “Because of Julius? Don’t worry about him. You’ve got us with you.”

  “You think that helps? You don’t know Julius’ history. This guy busts noses. I’m way too pretty to risk that.”

  The tent zipper whined open, and Mal emerged with hair looking like some kind of extreme ikebana.