Chapter 17
The card file gave off a chalky, earthy smell as she turned through them, each punched on the bottom margin with two holes, two parallel metal rods running through all of the cards in the drawer so they could not be removed. Bonnie was looking for a book, and she could not remember the title. There were hundreds of drawers in the library, and she was part way through perhaps the fiftieth one in her search.
Beside the wooden card file rack, on a small table, sat a pile of books that she had found, but none of them contained the information she was searching for. Wine colored spines and pages the color of bones were piled there. She looked over at the stack. She had been through them all for nothing, but she wasn’t bitter, she was committed. She would never stop until she found what she was looking for.
The library was silent, the ceiling so low that she mentally stooped although there was no danger of hitting her head. The next card in the drawer was pinched between her fingers, as dry and rough as the tree it had come from. She paused her search and looked around. The library was empty except for her. There were no windows to reveal if it was day or night.
She sat up straight, frustrated at the interruption, and hoped she could get rid of whoever was knocking at the door so that she could get back to her search. She was standing before it hit her that the library was a dream.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Greg.”
She opened the door and stepped back, wanting to grab him and gush childish feelings, but she did not.
“Greg? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I know it’s late...”
“Honestly Honey, I have no idea what time it is. It doesn’t matter. What is it?”
“I want to talk,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. The walked back to the sofa and sat down. “What about?”
“Well, about us,” he said. “I want to come home.”
‘I want that too, but what happened? Why now? I’ve been begging for you to come home for months,” she said, rubbing her eyes. He looked good, his face troubled but tanned, better than she had seen him in months.
“Some stuff happened that I need to tell you about, some pretty weird stuff. I don’t know how you’re gonna take it but...”
“Before you even start, I talked to Opal. She came by and told me some things, and I was pretty upset. I hope part of the reason you want to come home is that you figured out that these people are all looney,” she said.
“Opal came by? What did she say?”
“She told me...told me that, uh, you were some kind of prophet or something. It was really strange, really out there to be honest.”
“I don’t get that,” Harold said. “Lucas and Opal never said they knew anything about that. They acted like they didn’t know anything more than what I knew, like they were just as confused as I was by all of this stuff,” he said.
“What stuff? Never mind, it’s not important right now.”
“Yes it is,” Harold said. “It’s really important. I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just spit it out,” she said.
“Some people say that I can dream things into reality, make my dreams become solid. I haven’t been sleeping well, really fitful, ever since I dreamed this toy car back into mint condition at Lucas and Opal’s.”
“Honey, that’s crazy, you have to know that,” Bonnie said.
“Well, that’s just it, I’m not sure that it’s that crazy, but then I’m not sure that it isn’t crazy either.” He stood up and started pacing while he talked.
“I want to come home and try to sort this out. If more dreams become real, I want you here so you can see. An independent observer. And most important, I want our dreams to be the ones that I dream up, you know?”
Bonnie looked at him, glad he was pacing and not staring at her dead on. She did not want her face to give away the pity and fear written there.
“What are our dreams? Exactly? I mean assuming you have this power, what would you dream up?” she said.
“I don’t know, not exactly, it’s not that concrete. It’s more like a feeling or a set of circumstances than a solid thing like the car. Maybe that’s why nothing else has happened, because I don’t have any focus.”
“Go ahead, describe it, the feelings, the circumstances.”
“Well, I’d want to have a good job, and not to have to worry about where the money’s coming from. I’d want us to get married for real, you know, a real ceremony. I’d like to get you a new car so you don’t have to drive the Cressida around. It’s got like a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it or something. I’d like for us to do some sight-seeing...”
He felt a shift in her attention and stopped his pacing to look at her. Her eyes were down and her shoulders were slumped.
“What’s wrong?” Harold asked.
“Nothing’s changed,” she said. “It’s the same old story.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just the same as before. All you can talk about is the work and the stuff and the money. I’m sorry Honey, but somehow it figures that when you get brainwashed into thinking that you have a magical power, you imagine all the money and stuff you’d get with it.”
“That’s not true,” Harold said. “I feel better than I have in a long time. I’ve been hanging out, loosening up, really experiencing my life for the first time in years. I feel good, just still confused about what all this means, that’s all. It’s not about the stuff...”
“I’m sorry Honey, but I don’t want you to come home like this. I don’t want you to come home thinking that you dream up the same power trip that made you crash in the first place. Unless you would agree to seeing someone. That I would agree to, if you moved in and starting seeing someone.”
“Seeing someone? You mean, like a shrink or something?” he said.
“Yeah, a counselor or psychiatrist. I think it would help you.”
“I’m not crazy Bonnie,” he said. “I’m just not. I’m confused and upset, and I have to work through some things, but I’m not crazy. That car that I dreamed was real. And all of the people I’ve met make me think that I just might be something more than I thought before.”
“But Honey, you jumped off a bridge. Don’t you think you should see someone about that? You could be clinically depressed, there might be a medication that would help stabilize you...”
“Stabilize me? Now I’m unstable? I jumped off that bridge because I was drunk and feeling sorry for myself. I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m ready to get my life back,” he said.
Bonnie stood up and walked over to him. “What life? Which life? The one where all you did was work sixty hours a week, and the rest of the time watch TV? The one without room for me, or a child, or anything but your career? Or the one we had before all that took over? What do you want to do now, replace your career fantasies with your fantasies about magical powers? “
“None of that’s true. Let me come home,” he said.
“See there,” she said, her voice rising in volume and her spirit in step with it, “that’s proof you’re in a dream-world. Just asking to come back is proof. My Greg, the one I love, wouldn’t ask. If he knew it was the right thing to do, he’d just come back, period.
“It hurt when you left, but it would hurt even worse if you came back and you were the same workaholic Greg who ignored me and stayed sour all the time. And really worse if you were obsessed about dreaming meaningless bull into reality. So no, screw off, come back when you’re the old Greg, not the asshole Greg, or the magical powers Greg, or whatever it is you are now.”
She started crying openly, with her eyes and her face, her whole body. She ran back to the bedroom and shut the door.
Harold stood there, looking blankly off into nothing. He didn’t start crying himself until he was over a mile away, walking on the right shoulder of the road into nowhere. As usu
al, as it had been for the months, talking to Bonnie hadn’t gone the way he had imagined it would by a long shot.
The miles stretched away behind him as he let himself cry it out. Wouldn’t take me back, kicked me out, there’s a surprise he thought. Who can understand a woman? If she knew what I walked away from, would she still have kicked me out? Why did I say the stupid stuff I said? What was I thinking? That’s not how I feel…
He recalled the song he had heard at Lucas’ the night he had ran, the one he liked the best on the disk Lucas gave him. He turned on the bulky disc player in his pocket and stuck in the earbuds. It was impossible to think, to get his bearings. Screw it, I’ll just walk until something makes sense. It was getting dark, but there was nowhere to go.
A motorcycle pulled up on Harold’s left side as he walked down the road on the right shoulder.
“Get on,” Billy said from under his half-helmet. “I’m a friend of Lucas’ from the club.”
Harold jumped, then saw that the rider was turning his shoulders to show him the Legion of Kronos Motorcycle Club emblem on the back.
“Can’t a guy go for a walk these days? Leave me alone,” Harold said.
“You’re walking down the wrong side of the road you know. You could get side-swiped and knocked in the ditch and left for dead.”
Harold stopped and stared. “Is that a threat?”
“Oh hell no. Just looking out for your safety’s all.”
“I’ll be fine,” Harold said, and kept walking.
“You trying to get me in trouble?”
“What do you mean?” Harold asked.
“If I go back and tell them I saw you by the side of the road and didn’t come back with you, Lucas is gonna be real sore at me. And I am not exactly the most popular wolf at the carcass, if you know what I mean,” Billy said.
“I bet you’re the biggest though.”
“Not if you put any three of ‘em in a sack,” Billy said with a laugh in his voice.
“Cracking yourself up ain’t you? But not me. Get lost.”
Billy didn’t know what to say, but while he was waiting for it come to him, he put out his size thirteens and putt-putted along nest to Harold, who began to march stiff-legged and fast, so that Billy had to struggle to catch up without overshooting.
“No sense being cute,” Billy said. “I been following you. I know where you been and what you’ve been doing, we all do. I know you’re having a real tough time, but you gotta know that the club gives a rat’s ass, you know? If you were just another frickin’ loser who showed up at the door looking to join, which you ain’t, we’d still give a shit. Now come on and git on here and ride back. You won’t regret it. Besides, matching pace with you is real tiresome. Real tiresome.”
Stopping suddenly so that Billy shot past, Harold crossed the street and began to walk on the left without saying a word. Billy sped up, went half a block down the street, then pulled a u-turn in the two-lane toad and came at Harold head-on. When he got close, Billy braked hard and skidded up sideways to block Harold’s way. This time he popped the kickstand and jumped off.
“Okay Burger King, have it your way,” Billy said, and took both of Harold’s wrists. Despite the swearing and yelling, Billy lifted Harold’s arms and swung him around to his back like a baby. Harold dangled and kicked awkwardly as Billy crossed his captive’s arms, holding them together. Harold wriggled and yelled helplessly. Billy put one leg over the chopper, let go with one hand, and fired it up. Still struggling, Harold was only on the seat halfway and hanging partly into the street.
“You want to ride like that it’s your funeral,” Billy said, and unsteadily put the bike in motion. Harold panicked, got his leg over and his butt onto the seat.
“Attaboy,” Billy yelled, and tore off. “Helmet’s on the sissy bar, better put it on pronto!”
They rode stiff and quiet to Lucas’ house, and as soon as they pulled up in front, Harold hopped off and removed his helmet, tossing it angrily at Billy.
“What’s that for?” Billy asked. “That how you thank somebody for a ride?”
“Would’ve been better if you had used both wheels the whole time.”
“What? You mean I was going too fast?” Billy said.
“Why do you have to be such an ass?”
“I’m damaged, and I like it,” Billy said.
“Huh?”
“Nevermind,” Billy replied. “Hey, nobody’s here yet. Let’s go around back and hang out in them lawn chairs until somebody shows.”
They went around and sat. It was getting dark but it was still hot, and the mosquitoes were out. The smell of pokeberries and honeysuckle was as heavy as syrup. There was very little breeze at all, but when it did stir up, both men took deep breaths and sighed.
“So, what’s your favorite movie?” Harold asked.
“Where is that coming from?”
“Just trying to make conversation that’s all. You can tell a lot about somebody by what kinds of movies they like.”
“That’s a hard question,” Billy said, ”but I’d have to say that my two favorites are As Good As It Gets and Billy Jack.”
“So, let’s see, you like movies about egotistical jerks? That’s really heavy stuff.”
“Thanks,” Billy said, showing his teeth.
“No. Really. Both those movies are about these assholes who are really well-meaning on the inside even though they’re jerks on the outside,” Harold said.
“Never thought of it that way. Are you psychoanalyzing me?” Billy said.
“Nuh-uh, I ain’t got the skills or the time for that kind of project,” Harold goaded.
“Good, because I been there and done that. It’s real dry.”
“I don’t believe that. I bet your head is filled all kind of wet and slimy stuff.”
“I ought to gut you and see if Tonya could read ‘em like tea leaves,” Billy said.
“You don’t scare me Billy. See, now I know that you’re only a jerk on the outside.”
“Oh I scare you alright. I can smell it.”
Harold made a conscious effort to keep his eyes locked on Billy’s, pasted a smile on his face, and said, “Not a bit. Actually I kind of like you. You’re my favorite kidnapper of all the ones I ever had.”
“Same to you,” Billy said. “You’re my favorite victim. Hugs and kisses all around.”
They sat quietly for a while. A few blocks over a chainsaw was ripping. The smell of burning grass clippings was on the air.
“So what’s yours?” Billy asked.
“My what?”
“Your favorite movie,” Billy asked.
“That’s easy. Driving Miss Daisy.”
“Never saw it,” Billy said. “What’s it about?”
“Well it’s about this cranky old broad who’s prejudiced and basically falls in love with her black chauffeur. It’s really good. Won all kinds of awards. You wouldn’t like it.”
“What do ya mean I wouldn’t like it? What are ya tryin’ to say?” Billy asked.
“Just judging by your two favorites,” Harold said, “it doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.”
“Why do you like it so much?”
“I don’t know,” Harold said. “It’s just really good, realistic, you know. It seems like something that could have really happened. And since they never, you know, consummate their relationship, it stays honest and true, if you know what I mean.”
“Sounds real sweet.”
“Told you it ain’t your kind of movie,” Harold said.
“Naw, it prob’ly ain’t, but I trust your judgment.”
Lucas came through the side gate and walked over to them, a frown of sweat on his t-shirt over his gut. His face was a red backdrop for his grey mustache and goatee.
“Howdy boys,” Lucas said. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Real late,” Harold said. “How come you didn’t tell me what was going on?”
&nbs
p; “Hold on a second Harold, keep your shirt on...”
“So you weren’t being a nice neighbor, you were just keeping an eye on the Prophet, right?”
“That’s B.S. and you know it,” Lucas said. “If you couldn’t tell me and Opal cared about you more than that, you’re dumber than I thought.”
“He’s way dumber than you thought,” Billy said. “His favorite movie is Driving Miss Daisy.”
“Aw Heck Harold,” Lucas said. “Couldn’t you at least have said Caddyshack or The Blues Brothers? I mean, jiminy-christmas.”
“Yeah, those are good,” Billy said.
“Shut up Igor,” Harold said.
“Let him talk,” Lucas said.
“Thanks. Now listen, The Congregation told me everything. They said that...they told me that...”
“Go ahead, spit it out,” Lucas said.
“...that if I had stayed with you, you would have told me a load of crud that isn’t true so that you could control me and my powers,” Harold said. “I feel so stupid saying ‘my powers’ as if I’m one of the Super Friends or something.”
“You got it all wrong, backwards in fact,” Lucas said. “Remember when I told you I was the Regent of our motorcycle club? Do you know what a Regent is?”
“Yeah; isn’t that somebody who holds a position while they’re waiting for the real person to come back, or grow up, or whatever?”
“Correctamundo,” Lucas said. “I’m your Regent. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“What are you talking about? You said your club was a Blue Oyster Cult fan club. Why did you lie?” Harold asked.
“We didn’t lie, you gotta let me explain. You aren’t one of the Super Friends, but you do have powers, real powers. This is real, partner. You can change the world.”
“See, it’s like more like you’re the superhero and we’re the Super Friends,” Billy said.
“So that’s why you sent him to spy on me and kidnap me? Is that how you treat your leader? And why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” Harold said.
“You weren’t ready yet,” Lucas said. “You wouldn’t have believed us. I’m sorry you had to hear it all wrong from the Congregation. They don’t exactly have a, what do you call, secular point of view when it comes to you.”
“I gathered that,” Harold said.
“Angels didn’t rescue you from the bay,” Lucas said. “They were extra-terrestrials.”
“Not so fast. Back to what you said about the club. First you said you were a Blue Öyster Cult fan club, then you said you were some other kind of group waiting on me to lead you, then you said you weren’t lying at first – I don’t get it,” Harold said.
“We’re both,” Lucas said. “We’re fans of Blue Oyster Cult because their music because it’s good and because it foretells your existence. It’s all in the songs, in the lyrics. Think about it. Look at the evidence.”
Harold dropped back into a lawn chair and put his chin onto his fists and his elbows on his knees. Billy and Lucas looked at each other not knowing what to say or what to do.
“Come on inside,” Lucas said. “Opal’s got the attic fan cranking and there’s a pitcher of iced tea in there with our name on it. You can’t think straight out here in the heat and bugs.”
“I think he needs a beer...” Billy began, but Lucas looked at him sharply and he put a clamp on it, smiling but at last silent. They waited for Harold to get up, followed him up the back stairs and into the kitchen where Opal was standing at the counter making tuna fish.
“I’m making sandwiches,” she said. “You guys hungry?”
“In a minute sweetheart,” Lucas said. His eyes said that they needed a minute or two, and Opal got the message.
The men went to the den and settled on the sofa. When Billy reached for the TV remote, Lucas made him put it down with a glare. It was cooler here, the curtains blowing inward as the air from outside was pulled in, down the hall, and up through the attic. Back in the kitchen they could hear Opal putting dirty dishes in the sink and condiments back in the fridge.
“These older homes were made to stay cool without air conditioning,” Harold said. “It’s how they’re laid out, so that the air moves.”
“Yep, houses nowadays won’t draft right,” Lucas said. “Without AC they’re hot-boxes.”
Harold put the nape of his neck back onto the sofa cushions and stared up at the ceiling. The pattern on the heavy, almost burlap fabric was brown ships wheels on a field of rusty orange. The ceiling was cream-colored rippled plaster, nine feet up instead of eight.
“So that’s why you wanted me to listen to the CDs,” Harold finally said. “That’s your scripture, is that it?”
“No, that ain’t it,” Lucas said.
Opal could hear that things weren’t going well, and she came in from the kitchen drying off an old-fashioned can opener with a green and white checked cloth.
“The band doesn’t know their songs have prophecies in ‘em,” she said. “They named themselves after the real Blue Oyster Cult, the ones that rescued you from the bay. It’s inspired, but it ain’t God. This ain’t got nothing to do with God, spite of what that Congregation told you. This has to do with the extraterrestrials who watch The World and sometimes interfere with it. We’re God-fearing people Harold. It ain’t about angels and what-not, it’s got to do with aliens.”
“This is so messed up,” Harold said. “Do you guys realize how messed up this is? How really whacko this all sounds?”
“Yep,” Billy said. “What can I say? But you’re starting to believe it, or you wouldn’t have gone to Bonnie.”
Opal came over and sat by Harold and put a thin cold hand on his. When Harold looked into her face it was like looking at the sweet spirit of a child trapped in a body that should have been sporting a toe-tag.
“Honey, listen,” she said. “Didn’t we move here right after you did? Well that’s because Gator led us to you, and we moved in to be near you and keep you safe. If you weren’t the one foretold, how come you jumped into the bay? And how come you lived? And how did you dream that red car back to new? You’ve listened to the music and read the liner notes to the records, and studied on the lyrics. Now, how could all this be a coincidence? Accept it, honey.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Harold said. “Hold on, how do you know why I went to Bonnie’s, or what I said?”
“You went to your old lady and tried to dream up your perfect little suburban lifestyle,” Billy said.
Harold’s eyes went from the ceiling to the bridge of Billy’s nose.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“You heard me,” Billy said.
“You were eavesdropping on me?”
“Damn straight. I’m a regular G. Gordon Liddy,” Billy said.
“Is that true?” Opal asked. “Did you do that? What happened?”
“She didn’t want what I want,” Harold said. “She wanted...something else.”
“I coulda told you that,” Opal said. “All she wants is you.”
“She’s trying to control me. Just like the Congregation was trying to control me, and just like you’re trying to control me. Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be,” Harold said.
“What a crock,” Billy said. “You ain’t comfortable in your own skin. You’re feeling that way ‘cause you don’t know what you want. If you weren’t such a twit, you’d see that people want you to lead them, they don’t want to lead you.”
“Billy!” Opal said.
“It’s true,” Lucas said.
“You two are animals,” Opal said.
Billy replied by flicking his tongue at her like a snake. She winced at his face as if hearing feedback.
“Let’s leave this alone for awhile,” Opal said. “The sandwiches are ready to go. Sit tight and I’ll bring ‘em in. Harold, you want sweet tea or un-sweet?”
“Sweet please.”
&n
bsp; “Lemon?”
“Please,” Harold said, and let his head fall back on the wagon wheels.
“I gotta take a piss,” Lucas said and disappeared.
“So what did you try and kill yourself for?” Billy asked.
“I don’t know, and what does that have to do with anything? I was drunk and depressed I guess.”
“You must not have tried too hard,” Billy said. “You’re still here ain’t ya?”
“What are you getting at?” Harold said, still not taking his eyes off the ceiling.
“I’m trying to get at why you jumped in the drink, but you aren’t helping me much.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth would be nice,” Billy said. “I think you were just another ‘look at me!’ jumper who wanted some attention and to make everybody in his life feel guilty. You took a checked swing. You didn’t try to hit it out of the park, but you didn’t exactly try to miss it neither.”
“Thanks for the insight,” Harold said.
“That’s still no kind o’ answer. Do you still want to die? Cause if you do, I could help you out with that. Nothing to it.”
“No, I don’t want to die Billy.”
“Well, why not? Nothing’s changed. Ain’t everything pretty much the same as it was when you jumped? Huh?” Billy asked.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“Oh hell yeah! Now we’re gettin’ down to it! He says he wants me to leave him alone! The maggots just ate past the dead meat and got down to the quick,” Billy said.
“Go screw yourself,” Harold said.
Billy laughed loudly and showed his big teeth. “Now I really know I’m getting somewhere. Don’t be like that, don’t turn away from your own innards. Look at ‘em Harold. What do you see?”
Harold’s head came back slowly to level and he stared at Billy. Billy stared back. Neither spoke or moved. Billy was looking for honesty, waiting for the skin peel back so he could see the honest pain beneath. Harold was looking through Billy, his eyes turned inward. Billy could have been a lamp, or a book, or a crucifix, it didn’t matter, he was using Billy’s outsized face as an anchor for his eyes to keep from getting lost in thought.
“Okay, I admit it. I wanted to make Bonnie feel guilty, and my employer for letting me go. And plus, I was feeling too lazy to start over rebuilding my life. I didn’t want to die as much as I didn’t think I had anything to live for.”
“Was that so frickin’ hard?” Billy said.
“No,” Harold said.
“Need a drink?”
“God I hate you,” Harold said.
“Join the club.”
Opal came back with a tray that held a platter of tuna sandwiches, a clear plastic pitcher of tea with yellow daisies on it, and a stack of tumblers. Lucas returned from the bathroom and put a CD on the stereo.
“Wow,” Harold said, turning one of the pastel aluminum cups in his hand. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.”
“Found ‘em under the sink when we moved in,” she said. “I thought they were cool, kind of retro. But with ice, they sweat something fierce.”
“Just like we do,” Lucas said.
"Back to the subject," Harold said. "You guys have been great and all, but I'm pissed you kept me in the dark. You should have told me what you knew about me. About Gator. All of it."
Lucas hit play on the stereo and Career of Evil started to play.
"It's my fault," he said. "As Regent it was my call, so blame me not them. I didn't think you were ready. Honestly, what would you have done if I had come over right after me and Opal moved in and said, 'howdy neighbor, you're going to save the world and we're here to help you do it?' "
"I would've run you off and never spoke to you again," Harold said. "But still. It doesn't exactly instill trust you know."
"I'm sorry," Lucas said.
"Fine," Harold said. "But I still don't see how I can save the world. My powers are about as potent as Miss America's wish for world peace."
"They hafta grow," Opal said. "You hafta work on 'em and what-not. 'Ventually they'll take root and grow like wildfire.”
“Unless,” Lucas said, “The Disciples of Demeter get the rings. There’s two rings floating around somewhere in Yucatan and we’ve got a man down there trying to get them before the Disciples of Demeter do. The legend is that if they get the rings, they can offset or negate your powers.”
"What evidence do you have that any of this is true, huh? None. Look, this is a great sandwich Opal, and I appreciate the hospitality, but..."
Lucas interrupted, talking through a bite.
"Let me tell you a story," he said. "Back in '77, this was way after me and Opal got out of the drug scene and got paired up, we were in a little commune deal out in Winchester. There were about fifty of us in the group, and we were all folks who wanted to get back to nature and get out of the rat race.
“There was this one guy, he was my best friend at the time, and he was the Prez as much as anybody was, his name was Arlo. We got along great. Problem was that..."
"You aren't helping things," Harold said. "Is this going to be evidence or what?"
Lucas was as serious as he ever got. "I know you're mad about me not being honest with you, so I'm going to tell you something before you find out on your own and you get even more pissed. And if you sit still, after I'm done, I'll give you some details on that evidence you're looking for."
"Okay, fine, I'm sorry. Go ahead."
"Right, well, as I was saying, my friend Arlo and I saw most things eye-to-eye. We were starting to analyze music for hidden messages at that time, like the one in Helter Skelter everybody knows about, and some other ones too. Believe it or not, there’s some heavy stuff in some of The Monkees albums. Anyway, one day the whole Blue Oyster Cult message came up. The Imaginos record wasn't out yet, but most of the songs on it had been released already, but the message was out there if you were listening. The song that's on right now, it's basically the same as...well anyway, to stay on the subject, we got into the BÖC mythology.
“By then we were down to about twenty-five members, and the whole commune scene was just about a decade-and-a-half past its prime. Nobody was smoking weed or doing LSD in the group anymore, and with a clear head, the messages in music start to look less mystical. But we stuck with it.
“Arlo was so religious that he just had to see everything in terms of that. And when I tried to tell him that the messages we were looking for weren't related to religion, he blew up. He said that everything was related to religion, period. He took about half of the group with him to a farm that his brother owned down the road a piece, moved in with his brother and his sister-in-law and their kids Ben, and Kilby."
"Holy Crud..." Harold said.
"Let me finish," Lucas said. "Eat another sandwich and listen. I led the rest of the group, but after a while we couldn't manage the commune, and the group more or less broke up. The only original members are Opal and Cantrell. We were all bikers with heavy pasts. We renamed ourselves the Legion of Kronos on account of the fact we didn't like the religious sound of 'The Congregation' and we didn’t want to be confused up with them. The whole mythology, to us, is apart from religion, not related at all..."
“So you’re all basically the same group,” Harold said. “Two heads of the same lie. You know what I think?” Harold said standing up. “You’re no better than they are, and they’re no better than you. Neither one of you told me the truth, that is, assuming you’re telling me the truth right now. Maybe I do have a power, but I’ll be damned if either one of you is going to be in control of me. Starting now, leave me the hell alone.”
Harold left, walking down the road the way he always did when he wanted to cut a conversation short and have the last word. Billy wanted to follow but Lucas wouldn’t let him. They watched him go.
Lucas stood and watched the road even
after Harold was out of sight.
Chatters on the Tide Page 18