Key Weird

by Robert Tacoma

  Earlier he’d given me an old cloth bag with some of his vegetables and a few of the little dried root things in it to take with me. I tried to give him my toolbox and tools, but he said he didn’t really need anything, and anyway, he already had something I’d given him and held up the little pliers tool.

  There was a small tarnished statue the old man used as a doorstop, and he went over and picked it up and stuck it in the vegetable sack.

  “I’m all out of souvenir T-shirts, but you can take this to remember your visit to the Ten Thousand Islands and Everglades.”

  I’d been meaning to ask him about that weird little metal statue that looked kind of like an animal with a person’s head, but I didn’t think the timing was right at the moment, and anyway, I was getting a little choked up about leaving.

  “It’s just some old thing I found a long time ago. Maybe it’ll bring you some luck.”

  He took the bag out to my boat and set it down on the floor so I wouldn’t forget it in the morning, in case I left before he came in.

  We sat by the stove and finished the little bottle of whiskey as the last of the thunder boomed off in the distance. He told me if I was passing that way again to be sure to stop by, and worked up a little grin over that. I told him I would, and then he give me real careful instructions how to find my way back out to the coast.

  Mr. Small got to his feet, and I stood up too. He stuck out his hand and we shook and gave a good hug, then he was out the door.

  My eyes were tired, and I knew how good I was going to sleep on that mat. I lay down and was sound asleep before I even got my shoes off.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  56

  In the Night

  Without a sound, the small vessel moved up alongside the boat drifting down the slow wide river. It was a dark, cloudy night. Other than the ever-present hum of the insects, the only sounds were the waves lapping against the boat and the occasional moans from the people lying inside.

  A small dark head with calm steady eyes came up over the side of the boat, then a hand reached down and slowly lifted out a small bag with straps on each end.

  ♦

  Later, the same hand carefully reached inside another boat. The hand touched the one solid heavy object in the old cloth bag and slowly, silently, took it from the bag and over the side into the darkness.

  The small dugout canoe slipped through the mangrove swamp like a shadow. Its lone diminutive occupant standing in the rear, poling steadily and seemingly without effort.

  There was a platform in the mangroves, only a few feet above the water. There was another canoe there as well. On the platform was an old man sleeping, lying on his back. The little person was just barely tall enough to see the old man from where he stood in his canoe. Steady, silent hands took the heavy little figures from the bag and placed one by each of the old man’s ears. Then both hands gently set the third figure over the eyes.

  ♦

  Just before first light, one of the figures went back in the bag of vegetables, and the little bag with the other two went just underneath.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  57

  Still More Leaving for Taco Bob

  “It was time for me to go.”

  In the morning I got in my boat and started poling my way on back out to civilization. I had waited around to see if Mr. Small was going to come back to the house, but I got a real strong feeling he wasn’t.

  I didn’t know if I had enough gas to make it back to Key West, so I did like the old man had told me the night before and ran north along the coast to Chokoloskee to get gas there first. I was running along the coast enjoying the feeling of the wind in my face on a beautiful day, and I was thinking that according to my chart I was close to the place I had been looking for at one time, where the old house used to be. I was looking over that way and saw what looked like someone in a boat on the edge of the mangroves, standing up, waving. If I hadn’t been looking that way, I’d have never even seen ’em.

  When I got closer I could see it was a boat drifting there with a young couple who looked a bit rough. They were both skeeter-bit real bad, and I figured they must have spent the night out there and got that thunderstorm that had come through.

  Their boat had a bad prop, and I told them I’d try to fix it, but they didn’t want any of that, they wanted me to pull their boat back in.

  The fella was a big guy, and he sure didn’t look like he was enjoying himself at all. He didn’t say much; he just sat there in the bottom of the boat and looked real unhappy.

  The woman said she wanted to ride with me and climbed aboard, and we tied-off their boat to mine and started in. She sat right down on my bag of vegetables on the floor behind me. I felt so sorry for them bedraggled-looking folks, I didn’t have the heart to tell her not to sit there.

  I finished the run to Chok, and let those folks off at a public dock next to a little store. The woman said thanks and headed off to use the phone still looking a little shaky. The guy just got out of the boat and went and sat on the ground.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  58

  Back

  It had been the worst night of her life. When she realized it was morning, Carol checked on her Chacmools and they were gone. She freaked, and completely lost it tearing the boat apart looking. Butch was a total loss. The big tough-guy had been so paralyzed with fear all night that he’d wet his pants lying there on the floor of the boat.

  After breaking down and crying until she got sick, Carol was looking over the far edge of sanity when she heard the fisherman’s boat and started waving a towel.

  ♦

  There was something hard under the cloth bag that Carol was sitting on in the bottom of the stranger’s boat. She reached her hand underneath and pulled out her fannypack with both Chacmools inside.

  There was still something in the bag digging into her ass, but Carol was so shocked to find her Chacmools again that she didn’t even care. She looked at the fisherman standing in front of her running the boat and started to ask him if he knew how her pack got in his boat, but she was feeling a little dizzy and wasn’t really sure of anything at that point.

  ♦

  When Carol got to Chokoloskee, she immediately called and put a stop on Jeremy’s credit card. She got a ride to Tampa, and the next day she was back in LA. She was still feeling half-sick from her night on the boat and thought she might have a fever.

  Carol had always bruised easily, and she’d checked the whopper she found on her ass in the airport bathroom. Back in her room at the Spider Cult mansion, she backed up to a mirror for a better look. Whatever had been in that bag sure had left an odd bruise.

  Carol got one of the Chacmools out of its hiding place and looked in the mirror and put the Chacmool on the bruise. It was a perfect match.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  59

  Even More Leaving and Good-byes for Taco Bob

  “I swear I seen that kid somewhere before!”

  I got my gas at the little marina in Chok after I made sure the folks I had brought in were going to be all right. There was a little kid hanging around, kind of an Indian-looking kid with real shiny eyes. He slipped up real quiet, and I hadn’t noticed he was there until I looked up. He didn’t have much to say, just mostly hung back where I couldn’t get a real good look at him. When I got ready to leave I waved goodbye, and he lit up a big smile and started waving back. I got the boat turned around and looked back to give him another wave, since he seemed to like that so much, and I seen he had a little friend standing there. The second kid was about the same size, and when I waved they both lit up big grins and the new kid, he give me a wink and started waving too. I was moving out the channel by then, but I was still close enough to plainly see the second kid was missing the little finger on his left hand.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  60

  Key West as Home for Taco Bob

  “Home is where the truck is!”

  I made that long
run back down the coast of the Ten Thousand Islands and across Florida Bay towards Key West. It was a nice sunny day, and I had plenty to think about with all the things I’d done and seen the last few days, not to mention what might be waiting for me back in the Conch Republic. But the thing that stuck in my mind most was how I’d finally looked at my hands in a dream my last night in the little cabin and had my first real lucid dream. I was ready to agree with the folks that said it felt just as real as everyday, and I was feeling a new confidence, like the way you feel after finally doing something you been after for a long time.

  The sun had just about given it up for another day by the time I had both feet on dry land again. I was bone tired from the long boat ride and decided to splurge and get myself a motel room for the night. I took a cab over to one that looked like it ought to have a vacancy, but there was a little bald guy in there having a bad argument with the fella behind the counter about his credit card or something.

  So I decided to go on over to Pete’s sister’s place and check on my old truck. She was home by herself and insisted I come inside and have something to eat.

  “The police caught the guys while you were gone that’d been breaking into houses. Just this morning, in fact.”

  “Well, that’s good news. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me doing it.”

  I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, and started in doing some serious damage to a plate full of Jerk Chicken, scalloped potatoes, and corn on the cob. She gave me a look.

  “Caught the two guys breaking into the Hemingway House. Told the police they were just early for the tour, but the surveillance camera had them hauling off books. Turns out they’d been breaking into writer’s houses to steal first edition books to sell on those online auctions.” This was sounding familiar.

  “Was there one guy real big, and the other small with shifty eyes?”

  She nodded her head, and I thought she was going to ask how I knew, but went on with more news instead.

  “Pete’s been asking about you. Says he’s doing real fine up there in North Carolina, and you should go on up there sometime and do a little fishing with him.”

  This was sounding good. She walked out of the room to get me another glass of iced tea and called out from the kitchen.

  “That oriental man, Hop, called again too. Said you should get in touch next time you passed through here, let him know how you’re getting along.”

  I was just finishing up when she came back in and set the glass of tea and a big slice of Key Lime pie in front of me.

  “Been some woman calling here while you been gone too. Said her name was Mary Ann. She says to tell you she’d really like to hear from you.” She gave me a questioning look, and I come up with a little smile and a shrug.

  I tore into that pie and thanked her for one of the better meals I’d come across in a while. She told me a little of the latest gossip around town, and I realized I was paying close attention to everything she said.

  After I finished eating, I gave her a couple handfuls of homegrown vegetables out of the bag that Mr. Small had given me. Pete’s sister looked at them kind of gnarly-looking carrots and stuff and smiled funny. I pulled the little doorstop figurine out of the bag and showed her that, and she looked at it real close and said it might be gold and it might be worth some money. I told her it had sentimental value to me and I doubted I’d likely be giving it up anytime soon. She held it up to the light and I thought of something. When she handed it back I finally realized what it was about the shape. There was no doubt about it, the head looked like a woman, but the body looked to me just like a possum with the tail curled up underneath.

  ♦

  Pete’s sister gave me a paper she’d written my messages and some phone numbers down on, and a few pieces of mail that had found me somehow. She offered to clean up my little gold souvenir from the swamp with some metal polish, so I handed it over. I thanked her some more, then headed out to my truck parked there in the side yard.

  I got about half way across the driveway when I heard a metallic click off to the side, kind of like the sound you’d expect the trigger cover of a missile to make as it hit pavement. I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned.

  It was getting dark, but I could plainly see Lenny crouched down there on the driveway holding up one of those TOW missile launchers on his shoulder. Of course, George stood there next to him, sighting the thing my way with one hand on what must have been the trigger, and grinning to beat the band.

  “Evening, Taco Bob!”

  “Evening, George, Lenny. I thought you fellas were caught, and in the slammer.”

  George looked up, but kept his hand on the trigger.

  “You know what they say about it being hard to keep a good criminal down. We were only in there a couple hours. It was laundry day at the jail, so we kinda slipped out in a laundry cart.”

  I noticed a laundry van parked next door.

  “Hid out for a while over in a warehouse on the Navy base, found this little beauty still in the crate. If you wouldn’t mind holding still for another minute and putting your hands up, I’m just about done reading the instructions here.”

  From twenty feet away, I doubted even George could miss. I looked behind me at the vacant lot across the street and miles of open ocean after that.

  “You seem to have this thought out some, George. I’m impressed.” I could see George’s lips moving as he read. “Lady inside the house here lays out a mean spread. Jerk Chicken, scalloped potatoes, pie – ”

  Lenny and the missile started shaking a little. George dropped the instruction book and clamped his hands over his partner’s ears.

  “Don’t listen to him none, Lenny!” He gave me his meanest look. “Don’t be starting none of that stuff now, Taco! We got ya fair and square this time!”

  I was thinking about making a break for it as George sighted in on my chest again. Only problem was going to be trying to outrun a missile.

  “Say your prayers, Taco Bob, this is the end!”

  I noticed a light back over the trees, then a noise. Suddenly there was a spotlight glaring down from a helicopter and wind whipping around. One of the rare times I was glad to see the police. They hovered overhead in that noisy machine and yelled stuff on a loudspeaker about not moving and getting on the ground.

  Poor George couldn’t believe it, standing there looking up with his mouth hanging open. He grabbed the back of the launcher and pointed that awesome looking missile up at the chopper, which took a hard left and was gone. He redirected his cold stare and missile back at me, but in all the noise and confusion, Pete’s sister’s yard had filled up with armed and excitable police.

  George looked around at all them guns pointed at him, and at me still standing there with my hands up. He smiled big at the cops and started raising his hands.

  “Looks like you got us, boys!”

  Which made everybody but me and George relax just a bit. George came up with a blood-curdling yell and made a grab at the launcher just as I hit the deck. I could feel the heat from the missile on my back as it roared by. George and Lenny were occupied with a lot of police doing a pile-up on them and the empty launcher, but I sat up in time to see the explosion out over the water.

  They arrested the Daltons, and me for good measure, and we all went down to the police station for a few rounds of question and answer in the interrogation room. Finally, well after midnight, they decided to believe what Pete’s sister had told them over the phone about me and cut me loose.

  It was turning into another long day for me. I started walking the three miles back to my truck hoping to hitch a ride. I got about halfway back when an old station wagon stopped.

  “I’m trying to get over to the other side of the island, over by Mango Street.”

  “Get in, I know where that is.”

  Big fella driving looked somehow familiar wearing a shower cap and what looked to be a kilt.

  “Thanks, much obliged.”

  “Don’t me
ntion it. I’m scouting around looking for a place to open a restaurant.”

  My weary mind figured it odd to be looking for real estate in the dark, though it was cooler with less traffic. But I didn’t mention any of that, I was just glad to have a ride with someone that drove slow and never seemed to take his eyes off the road.

  When we got to Pete’s sister’s place I thanked the man and made my way through all the crime scene tape over to my truck. I climbed into the little camper on the back and there was my little gold doorstop sitting on the bed. I put it under my pillow and stretched out big thinking about where I’ve been and what I had going next.

  I drifted off to sleep in a little while, looking forward to the next day, and the rest of my life.

  EOF