So it was like that sticker was reminding me that Ocean wasn’t an option, dig? That she was going to be born and the quality of her life could very well depend on how I handled this Clarice Hudson situation. And it was already too late for that chick, anyhow, there’s no cure for what she had, ya know?
See, this was what went through my head while I was sittin’ outside her apartment. I was half-listening to some right wing windbag on the radio, watchin’ her windows, checking the time every five fuckin’ minutes, tryin’ to figure out exactly how to do it.
Now see, man… when you call it pre-meditated it tells me that you’re still not understanding. You’re still confusing habeas corpus with doing the right thing, and a lot of time—as I believe I’ve mentioned before—those two concepts can run afoul of each other. I mean, give me credit, man. I didn’t go marchin’ up there to do the dirty deed just because she had two fuckin’ signs. Now that woulda been criminal, ya know?
So anways, it’s gotten dark and I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s time to piss on the fire and call in the dogs. Pack it up for the night and head on home, right? And just as I’m about to turn the key, what happens? Her front door opens, man.
She comes traipsin’ down the sidewalk in this low cut, white blouse that’s clingin’ to those tits of hers like a needy lover. Got this tiny skirt that barely covers the cheeks of her ass, black heels and matching bag, hair teased like a geek in a locker room. I mean, this bitch looks hot. Both figuratively and literally, ‘cause even from my car, I can see that sheen of sweat, man. That byproduct of contagion.
I follow her downtown and find myself in this little hole in the wall called Blue Moon. Not the Blue Moon, mind you… just Blue Moon. This is the type of joint that’s got Bob Seeger on heavy jukebox rotation, little Christmas lights all strung along the ceiling, and cans of Vienna Sausages for sale right alongside the overpriced Bics and antacids. Couple of pool tables in the back…
She’s down at the end of the bar by the video poker machines, kinda leanin’ over it like her bosom’s tryin’ to get a good look at all the bottles lined along the back mirror. The bartender’s this short, blonde chick with frizzy hair and she lines five shot glasses in front of Clarice fuckin’ Hudson and starts fillin’ ‘em up with something or other. Don’t ask me what, ‘cause I’m a beer man, myself.
Well, the leading lady in this here little drama throws those shots back like a sailor on leave. Bam, bam, bam. Hardly takes time to breathe between each one. She holds up three fingers and, after the bartender brought me a piss warm Bud, knocks back another trio.
You can bet your ass that by this time she’s caught the eye of every dude in this joint. The pool balls have stopped clackin’ around, there’s this chick throwin’ daggers at her boyfriend with her eyes, an old man who’s not too shy to sit there massagin’ his nutsack while he drinks her in.
This guy who looks like he’s probably in the place on a forged ID plops a few quarters into the juke but his eyes are all over Ms. Hudson when he’s selectin’ the songs. I figure he was probably goin’ for Lynrd Skynrd or some shit but got so distracted by this hard drinkin’ hottie that he somehow queued up Lady Gaga. Bad Romance, it was.
So the music really kicks in after that little Vedic sounding chant at the beginning and the bass is thumpin’ so loud that you can’t even hear the chirps and bleeps from the poker machines. Now our dear Clarice must’ve been a little monster, because she’s out there just gettin’ down. She’s movin’ her body to the rhythm like she was born to work the pole—tossin’ her head back, gyrating those hips as her hands trail along the curves of her body. She’s got her eyes half-closed and in the dim light it almost seemed like I was watchin’ a woman fuck the shit out of an invisible lover.
Now, you know these little dives. Their idea of air conditioning is a ceiling fan hidden up in the rafters that moves slower than a herd of turtles in tar. These places are stagnant, man, which is why they always got that ghost of old beer and stale cigarette smoke hauntin’ the air. No circulation at all.
You better believe by the time the songs fades into the next, this chick is drenched. I mean, her hair’s literally drippin’ with sweat, right, and her blouse looks like wet tissue paper that’s been plastered to her body. You can see right through that shit, too. Those pink nubs sittin’ in the center of these dark aerolas… you could see it all. If I didn’t suspect she was a weapon of mass destruction, I probably woulda shot my load right then and there.
So she starts walking toward my end of the bar, right? And she’s not so much as even a little off kilter, I mean, this chick coulda passed every sobriety test you guys threw her way.
I look down into my suds, tryin’ to play it off like maybe I can find the answers to all my problems somewhere in the bottom of that mug, but my heart’s just poundin’ away like a rabbit on crack. I’m startin’ to sweat a little myself and I want to take a sip of that beer so bad… to calm my nerves, ya know? But I’m afraid if I so much as lift it from that scarred counter, my hands will tremble so bad that it’ll slosh all over the place.
Just be cool, I tell myself. She’ll go to the juke, pick of a few songs, and then wander back down to the other end. Just stay cool, dude.
I could smell her before she even got close to where I was sittin’. It was this heady combination of perfume and deodorant mixed with the slightly sour smack of body odor, but, for some reason, that smell is kinda sexy on a woman, ya know? Why the hell is that? One whiff of a chick’s sweat and most guys pop a boner—or at least a semi—on the spot. I had to keep picturin’ these fuzzy little virons swimming around in all that perspiration, like minnows in a stream, to keep that shit in check.
Then I get this creepy feeling. You know how you can just sense when someone is lookin’ over your shoulder, man? It’s not like they’re touching you or anything, but you know they’re there. Almost like you can feel them rubbin’ up against your aura or something. Most times, it’s nothing but an annoyance, but when it happened at that little bar? I felt the hairs on the back of neck bristle and I just sat there for a moment, watching the bubbles pop on the head of my beer as this hard little lump formed in the back of my throat.
She musta still been a little winded from dancing, cause I could hear her breathing, too… and all I could think was what if this shit is airborne, man?
I realized, for some reason, that she just wasn’t gonna go away. So I looked up at her. Kept thinkin’ about all those nasty little buggers running amuck in her body to keep my eyes from simply stopping at chest level. By this point, I feel like I just wanna bolt out through the door and keep on runnin’ ‘til the sun came up. At the same time, though, it’s like every muscle in my body was suddenly petrified. Even felt like stone, now that I think about it. Cold and hard, immovable as a fuckin’ boulder.
So there I am, face to face with the enemy. With this woman whom I have no doubt will help bring about the destruction of my species. I’m lookin’ into those blue eyes, just waitin’ for her to make the first move. Believe you me, I just about jumped outta my soul when she parted those pouty lips of those and said in this calm, even tone: “You’ve been watching me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The flavor of the savory juices in the meat still clung to Ocean’s mouth. She’d chased it down with enough water that her throat no longer felt as though it were coated in finely ground glass. She’d felt guilty, drinking that much, but every time the cup she shared with Gauge was emptied, either he or Corduroy would refill it from a large, plastic bottle.
Her stomach felt as though it were three times the size it had been only hours earlier. At first there had been cramps… little jabs of pain that felt like someone was sliding a knife between her abdominals. But she had eaten her way through them, dissolving those sharp pangs with flavor and succulence.
After eating, Pebble had curled up on one of the large cushions and was making the glass monkey hop along the hills and valleys of the fabric. Levi went to check in on the
baby, and Corduroy remained seated at the table, following Ocean with his good eye. There was something about the man which made him slightly different than the others. During dinner, she’d been shocked to see that his plate was piled with pale potatoes, carrots, and little green balls that she’d never had before… but none of the steaming roast with its trickles of clear juices. Who the hell doesn’t eat meat? she’d wondered as she shoved another bite into her mouth.
The thought made her uneasy for reasons she couldn’t understand. At first she tried to tell herself that it was simply his appearance but, in reality, Ocean knew it wasn’t his burnt and twisted face or the way he barely passed as human. She had grown so accustomed to such things that, in the world she had always known, the other three would have been looked upon as the freaks. With their shiny, flowing hair and unblemished flesh, they would have stood out among the diseased and starving.
No, it wasn’t the scars, but rather something about the way he looked at her. As if his eye were constantly sizing her up…
Gauge, on the other hand, seemed to delight in showing Ocean around her new home. His eyes twinkled like clusters of stars as he showed her the room that had been cut into the earth, which he called the kitchen, and then explained how a large metal box had been shoved into the hearth to cook their meat.
“But it gets so hot that you can also fry stuff on top of it. Have you ever had an egg, Ocean?”
“Once… “ She remembered her father finding the nest in the limbs of a tree. He’d shimmied up the narrow trunk and when he returned, held this little oval in his hand that was as blue as the sky on a cloudless day. He’d told her to tilt her head back and open her mouth. When she did, he tapped the shell lightly against a rock. The contents inside had slid into her throat and she remembered him smiling down at her as the yellow goo oozed out of the cracked shell.
“It tasted kind of funny,” she continued. “It was kind of slimy and Daddy didn’t have to give me it all. He coulda just gave me a little taste and saved some for himself like Mama always does.”
Mama. Dead and alone, mouth hanging open as the flies had their revenge.
“Well, you’ve never had them the way Corduroy makes them. Actually, you probably won’t even know you’re eating the same thing. I’ll show you the cages where we keep the pigeons in a bit. I think you’ll like them, sweetie.”
Sweetie. A single word chased away the tightness that had bound her chest when the image of her mother materialized in her imagination. Sweetie.
She felt light and airy, like a cloud that had drifted far into the sky. As she looked up at Gauge, her whole body seemed to sigh and that strange sensation was in her stomach again. Almost like a tickle, but from the inside.
She wanted to say something, to say anything, but the words had fled from her mind. She could only look at that wavy dark hair, the stubble covering the dimpled chin, and grin to the point that it felt as if her face would split open.
“Umm… you got something… “ Gauge bared his teeth and tapped on them with his fingernail. “Right there.”
Ocean’s tongue subconsciously passed over the sliver of meat that was stuck between the gaps of her teeth.
“I know… I’m saving it for later.”
Gauge’s laughter was rich and deep, its echoes seeming to mock Ocean as they repeated into infinity. She felt her face flush and her smile melt away. Somehow, she felt smaller now, as if she were shrinking and would continue doing so until she was so small that the scrap of food in her mouth would crush her like a toppled building.
Then Gauge placed his hand on her cheek, his palm was warm and rough. The touch light but carrying a sort of charge that made it feel like her heart would momentarily stop beating.
“Ocean, honey… you don’t have to do that anymore. You’re with us, now. Come on. Let me show you something.”
He led her by the hand, back into the large room where they had eaten and guided her to the other side. Standing before a dark hole in the wall, Gauge looked into her eyes for what could have been a few seconds or an eternity before speaking again.”We call this Heaven.”
Pulling a candle from the rickety table that sat beside the opening, Gauge led her into the darkness beyond.
Ocean gasped as she stepped into the room, her jaw dropped open as if she were back on the street, hunting flies. She spun in a slow circle, her eyes wide and round. For some reason, she felt as dizzy as if she’d whirled around as quickly as her feet could pivot.
“What… where… how… “
Gauge laughed again as she struggled for words. This time the sound seemed so hazy and distant that embarrassment would never be able to find her. Ocean pressed her hands against the side of her face, blinking rapidly, as if she could somehow steady reality.
In the flickering orange glow of the candle, walls of cans were revealed. They were stacked atop one another from the floor to the ceiling, and formed long rows with just enough space between for someone to walk. A lot of them were nothing more than silver cylinders, but some still had yellowed labels wrapped around them. Some of the pictures she recognized from childhood; yellow kernels of corn, orange disks of carrots, mounds of spherical peas. But others were strange to her, there was something that looked like the moss-like strands that covered the bottoms of stagnant pools. Something else that looked almost like little white brains. And there was even some that had pictures of dogs on the labels.
“I… I never knew you could get dog in a can…”
Gauge chuckled and shook his head slowly. “No, sweetie, it’s not dog in the can… you have a lot to learn, my dear.”
She pulled her eyes away from the cache long enough to glance at the tall man beside her. “Where… where did you get so much?”
Gauge sighed and closed his eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose between pinched fingers. “Do you remember the Food Wars, Ocean?”
“Not much. I was pretty small back then. Bits and pieces…”
Gauge put his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently so that she was looking directly at him again.”Okay, a little history lesson then. When people realized that things just weren’t going to go back to the way they were before, we got scared. I wasn’t much older than you back then, but I remember everything. People fighting in the streets over a single tin of tuna. Bashing each other’s heads with rocks. Stabbings. Beatings.”
“Daddy told me about that. He called it man’s inhumanity to man… but I never really understood what he meant.”
Gauge’s face looked pinched now, and he seemed to be looking through Ocean rather than at her, as if he could see some distant point beyond her, causing his eyes to glisten with wasted water. “Some people still had guns back then. Ammunition. If you had guns, you had power. So these gangs started forming. All the people with the guns broke off into little groups. And they started stealing from the people who didn’t have any guns.”
He closed his eyes now and his face seemed to drain of color. There was a slight quiver to his voice and Ocean took his hand with a gentle squeeze. “It was a massacre. One long, bloody, stupid massacre. Men, women, children, the old, the sick. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the food.”
From the other room, Ocean could hear Levi talking softly to Pebble. Corduroy was whistling some tune that seemed to start and stop again at random intervals. In the soft lull of Gauge’s voice, those sounds seemed as unreal as a dream.
“After a while, these gangs had just about all the food. So then they started fighting each other and left everyone else to starve while they stockpiled their loot away. The more food you had, the more people wanted to join your gang. The more people you had in your gang, the more food you could get. It was a viscous circle.”
Gauge took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, scanning the room slowly. “This was the hideout of The Butchers of the New Dawn. This is where they piled up everything they took from others. Levi and Corduroy… they think this room is called Heaven because it’s the promised
land. Where the rivers flow with milk and honey.”
Ocean felt her own eyes stinging as the pain in Gauge’s voice seeped into her heart. She wanted to hold him, to stroke his hair and chase away the nightmares like her father used to do for her. She could only chew on her bottom lip, could only hold his hand in hers and listen.
“But me? I call it Heaven because I look around and all I see are the souls of all those people. The people who died for these precious little cans. Just so I could eat…” He closed his eyes again and let his breath escape so slowly that it almost sounded like the wind. He bowed his head for a moment, then forced a smile as he looked at Ocean again.
“Okay… wow. I didn’t mean to… you know…”
“It’s alright.”
Ocean saw her mother again, saw herself stepping over the woman’s lifeless body and crossing the clearing, saw the rat’s body as she picked it up and how she’d sat down, right then and there, and bit into the coarse hairs of its coat. The little squirt of blood as her teeth punctured it’s flesh… and the entire time Mama simply laid over there. Motionless. Unfeeling. “You do what you have to in order to survive. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
And, at that moment, Ocean wanted nothing more than to simply believe in her own words…
After they left Heaven, Gauge continued the tour. She saw the baby for the first time, a little bundle of life squirming beneath his blankets as his balled fists rubbed against his rosy, peach fuzz cheeks. She’d wanted to hold him in her arms, to feel his tiny feet kick while little bubbles of spit gurgled from his mouth. In the end, she just touched his gossamer hair lightly and smiled as he cooed.
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