LOST HIGHWAY

by Zac Funstein

  “Might I enquire who the one taking over is?”

  “Certainly-we have someone who will capitalize on what you have done Ramses Smolders.”

  The emotional one got up then dusted himself down as if from a gruesome Brian Gima tackle midway through the initial period of a bout.

  “Smolders might have known it would be him.”

  “It is well to be upon one's guard-but I believe that is the perfect choice. With programs like ours, they gain confidence, self-esteem, friendships are able to successfully develop as Ramses did.”

  Smolders left a Korean/English Bible in a public restroom in Pyongyang quite by accident. Clearly his tour group was being watched because the tour guide-who was Korean- asked if anybody had left anything suspicious behind. Smolders would not deny his actions, even though it was known it meant trouble-besides someone else might have taken the rap easily. Nothing seemed to happen, then, at the airport at Pyongyang, when preparing to leave the country, Smolders was detained: held in his hotel, then rudely bundled into an unmarked van to be taken to a detention center. Did Ramses believe God would protect him? ‘Yes, I believe I was protected, I was never harmed physically,’ Smolders said. ‘I was never in jeopardy of giving up my faith-not even for an instance.’

  But that is not to say his time was easy. The beginning, especially, was arduous. Someone who had done little more than him got hard labour for his pains Smolders did not know if his Croatian wife Mette knew about his disappearance either. Picturing Mette waiting for him at an airport sustained however. There was an irrational dread his children, Naja, Johanne were detained even though they were ostensibly at home safely in Ohio. There was no way they could be hurt.

  Matheus was a little confused when Ramses visited him in anticipation of hearing the results.

  “What happened to Filipović-I was sure we would meet again?”

  “Bowed out I’m afraid-but you can tell us anything you might say to him.”

  “This has our rare abrasive in, but there’s been something added which has altered its construction. There’s only one company that do this successfully-Ventocan Volfase.”

  If Ramses Smolders was clearly a miserable kind of fellow - a philanthropic friend to the miserable but lacking drive plus the ability to rise in his profession, as some claimed, then this did not come across in meeting him. A contributor to the education of many of the present day mathematicians in Turkey, not only by his lectures but also through illuminating conferences/ seminars-a mathematical tinge tainted all that was done. Smolders favourite pastime was recounting his exploits while playing cards (a game of his own creation of mathematical basis) in his well-appointed parlor, it’s clear that Ramses’s accomplished some amazing feats, almost without assistance.

  “How does having to unravel everything connected to this seem to you-being burdened or blessed Ramses?” asked his brother-in-law Callum Grimwade.

  A fleeting grimace is soon replaced with the jovial stoicism that runs through the English like rheumatism. Although his mother was a youthful beauty from Puerto- Rica which belied her middle-age Callum had a dad from Cheam London.

  “With its thriving cartels/ gangsters, the city is growing monstrous, chaotic. It might seem inconsequential trying to trace soap-powder-but this could be a powder of a more illicit nature.”

  “The content is inconsequential-if we can better determine what is in these substances more to the good.”

  “Exactly-there’s never been any decent follow-through, at least not to any meaningful degree-until now that is. We might stop drug-barons sapping the youth of their self determination.”

  In one corner there is the monitor of a closed-circuit television showing the area in front of the entrance, the waiting room, the anteroom plus the room they are in itself.

  Before even entering the anteroom, the volunteers have to put on several layers of protective clothing like those the ‘Doc’ made Leon wear earlier. Someone is entering that space now. Security is asking them to don this garb-the acting, though amateurish, is energetic, delivered with gusto, the awkward, theatrical dialogue becomes oddly appropriate (if somewhat stiff) as the person arriving changes-as their day clothes were put into a plastic container. Security was a measure introduced with some reluctance-it was believed it could lead to an over-escalation/criminalisation of behaviour currently dealt with by informal community resolutions.

  “An important guest-Smolders do you want us to leave?”

  “No stay Callum I believe I know who it is. One thing is for sure dismantling monopolistic market structures that have built up isn’t on the agenda. ”

  This had been the topic previously under scrutiny.

  “Or one of Mrs Veed’s progeny.”

  Mrs. Veed was a rich, pretentious, condescending woman, her children were terribly spoiled, unkind even rude. Callum could never hear mention of anything or anyone Veed without being taken to when stationed at Bethesda Hospital Maryland skipping out on work to go to the Sam Goody's at the Silver S. Mall to get the cassette then almost getting punished for doing so. So worth it, Callum played that audiobook cassette until it wore it out. Such had him spellbound.

  “None of that unruly rabble!”

  As it happened it was Temesgen Robel-Ventocan Volfase doyen-none too happy about having to appear like a power-plant employee dressed as if in heavenly raiment.

  Soon Temesgen was well into his spiel. This was a practiced orator skilled at making the party-line into something tangible. Callum sensed however that there was little room for deviation- that whatever was being weaved was in a narrow confine.

  “Davy had developed a technique by which unusually stable compounds could be decomposed into their constituent elements so was assured that the unique pumice was a thing of the past-it could be synthesised.”

  “That’s one of your staff.”

  “Staff-I like that. His blend of formal/ informal suited the company's mission/ethos well. Since they preferred informal dress, didn't much care for weaponry of any genre, were openly contemptuous of formality, Davy was the natural choice. I’m not sure staff is correct but still. The peace-at-any-price people believed the soft approach is best - a view that seems to predominate now, but then was radical. It all worked in outline, but when we put everything to his principles the episodic unfolding of events lacked energy.”

  “You were unable to recreate the Pumiceous pyroclastic?”

  The tension was almost palpable but the old master handled it with style-as if someone once said redeem yourself or forever be consigned to history's pantheon of turncoats, renegades plus saboteurs. Concentration almost tangibly tightens, as motivation heightens, extraneous information gets filtered out-finally a verdict is given.

  “A synthetic version but still lacking the essential abrasive qualities. I believe this is what we have here-in the remnant from the remote highway you sent us. This is Pumiceous pyroclastic-but with an additive to make up for whatever was lacking previously.”

  G

  There was another interesting set of applications that deputy coroner Justin S. Alvarado came to be experienced in. Moreover they were readily available which was a godsend. We often stumble upon such phrases as ' was dressed like a gentleman' or 'seemed like a working man' in dressing to put on clothes that are neat, clean smells good, no tears or rips, well Alvarado could have so easily come up with another-attire that is absolutely absent of any dust-for his appearance seemed sans a solitary trace of dirt.

  “It certainly is sobering,” mumbled Alvarado sliding the dead girl into her chilled-cabinet with all its baronial splendour. “When the fill-level of malignity reaches full like that. Which is fitting Chad.”

  Chad N. Caron-another that seemed to have taken an unusual interest in what happened was a little bemused.

  Alvarado had liked Chad immediately because of the styptic pencil that had hid so successfully his botched attempts at shaving.

  “Alvarado I don’t quite…..”

  Intera
cting with Justin was like driving down one of those roads with a hump in-you suddenly came up against a bump sometimes-not a very big one but a speed ramp just the same.

  “You’re not conversant with proxy malignancy I do not suppose- sometimes known as PM?”

  There was a lot of things which Chad was not conversant with. They once believed in the Victorian era that everything that could be known was possible-but Chad would never have been one of those.

  “I wish I could say that I was but unfortunately I must state that like much PM has passed us by. I used to beat myself up, but don’t anymore-it is just possible for a machine to know everything in the ‘cloud’ but as for one person.”

  It does not always happen that the parturition is affected with ease but now they were going to go give birth to something new aka this exciting development called PM. They weren’t literati but did not give dishonorable mention when all was said/ done.

  “Don’t beat yourself up for not being immune to something new-we need innovation all of us like,” an analogy is sought. “like a microphone needs amplification. We got it for a probationary period but were so impressed-it wasn’t as outre or as flaky as some made it out to be that was for sure.”

  “I’m a yes-man if it comes to finding out what went wrong out there-honest to god I am Alvarado. Any over-the-counter remedy that is us. My personal banner should be if ‘it is usable that is fine by us’.”

  There was a chug then as the geothermal heating clicked into work-mode. The entire mortuary was heated from deep within the earth from a carefully set thermostat that powered fridge plus air conditioning.

  “It is unreasonable to expect ceaseless gratification but PM does assist in finding potentially harmful substances that did not originate on the deceased,” elucidated Justin with a certain satisfaction which suggested this was someone who had never really been uncivil.

  “I can’t rewrite the version of what happened there is no eureka moment that will tell us what happened, but someone was near the teenager that was wearing permanent press clothing within those fatal last moments.”

  A non-descript dust-jacket that was hanging on a stand nearby is brought over as per illustration.

  “One such as this a permanent press fabric that has been chemically processed to resist wrinkles/hold its shape. It has a moderate toxicity when in particle form that is in comparison to organic substances.”

  “I believe I understand where you are coming from Justin. Someone was wearing an article of clothing such as this that was near your cabinets denizen just before the attack.”

  A smugness seemed to come over Alvarado then like that those which knew this was very few.

  “It isn’t so much the material as the chemical used to treat it which in very large doses is deemed mildly toxic-but yes you’re more or less correct on that score.”

  There was always something slightly incision like if you got into a repartee with a Justin on account of his chosen profession.

  “There was this tubby Afro-American transvestite called Rabulas Orosco Blanco (his mother was Spanish) who got into barroom fights with alarming frequency. I wont bore you with the ins/outs Chad. We tried every schmuck approximation going to find out who plastered him against his bathroom tiling with a Walther H&K semi-automatic after unplugging his electric sander then knocking him insensible with it. Suffice to add Chad it gave us a lot of grief dead as well as alive.”

  If Chad found his bureaucratic comprehension a little visceral it was not mentioned instead it was said:

  “This was before using PM I take it?”

  “Sure we had what we used to call the ‘gym’ which was the bag-of-tricks we had tried before. We were stuck until this upstart came into the equation. We even called it the New Naturalism for a while.”

  “As per the Ionian pre-Socratic philosopher Thales, considered to be the father of science, the first to give explanations of natural events without the use of supernatural causes.”

  “Almost try the University of Notre Dame cleric Jean Buridan the polygamist who was described as ‘perhaps the most brilliant arts master of the Middle Ages,’ -the genius who contrasted the philosopher's search for ‘appropriate natural causes’ with the common folk's habit of attributing unusual astronomical phenomena to the supernatural. Believe us what they had going before was like table-tapping or spinning the wheel-of-fortune,” exclaimed Justin reaching a cadence.

  “You were under pressurizations galore to get the solution-you saw success being snatched from under you. It was no good being laconic or laisse-faire you needed to ‘know’ quickly.”

  Nearby an extractor fan as if a collusive agent with some unseen force suddenly began to whirr into action adding to the destroyed hydrocarbons that were outside. Having wandered over to a printer then wandered again to where Chad was Justin gave him the results.

  “I am sure you will find this interesting Chad without a shadow of a doubt.”

  Chad glanced at what had been offered like it was a sacred Egyptian papyri. What struck him was not what was written but how it was virtually unmarked without any blemish on the foolscap.

  “My old sergeant major from my National Service always helps at times of stress like this. I try to ask myself what Gualtar Cabán Robles would have done.”

  “I would be pleased to know what Robles would bring down from the vertiginous heights regarding G here-our frozen friend.”

  “Heights! Subbasement more like!”

  “What is this Justin?” asked picking up from the desktop what seemed like a huge paperweight that was made of an indescribably heavy plastic.

  “A shot-put believe it or not. I sometimes confuse it with a paperweight myself.”

  A framed photo of what seems like a Russian woman throwing said weight which has rested nearby is given for his approval. Chad politely admires this.

  “This is my wife Cristina Yusupova-well as was.Yusupova was her maiden name. Cristina was Kiev shotput champion for several years running. I know that Cristina isn’t attractive in the usual sense that her resemblance might be to a jailbreak escapee but inside is a beautiful person trying to get out leastways that’s how I see it. I must do since I married the unfortunate girl. I digress-I trust the PM itinerary is helpful.”

  “What does it tell you Justin-is there some hillbilly spook from the American Revolution out there as some suspect?”

  “I wept at first when we first started using PM on G it seemed downhill-then it seemed to get better. There were a bunch of alien toxins on her as I mentioned earlier-not just the permanent press fabric find I mentioned but some more interesting particles that couldn’t have come from her on her own-but might have been from someone of her own age-a patent medicine that some take to get high.”

  “Inhaler wadding!”

  “If that is what they call it. It may well be that it was used for a legit purpose which would be RIP to that little intimation.Since yuletide has just passed I’m in a generous mood if you can’t get into what I’ve just given you give us a ring. Intelligence officials allegedly intercept telephonic conversations but I’m sure they won’t take exception-all in a good cause ‘n all that.”

  It was calculable that the humiliation would be small on Chad’s part-that there wouldn’t be any repentance for suggesting this. Sure enough it seemed to go down well.

  “I’ve seen teenagers sniffing that stuff with paper bags- sometimes its the inhalers, crushed cough lozenges or just plain old glue. Such sad waste of lives but there you go that’s the modern-world for you. Must we become world famous for making a race of drug crazed zombies-I sincerely pray not.”

  “Those that have jumped on the current medicinal craze should remain blameless I believe unless you take into account the terrible clinical trials on unsuspecting subjects-there is no way they could know what usage their mixes would be put too.”

  The ill-natured Marx, the venomous Lenin, the murderous Stalin all had a deep-seated loathing of all those who disagreed with them
but there were other socialist men with filthy tempers. Augustin Saenz Valles was one of them with his kind of wit, more sharp than keen, more biting than sarcastic. Augustin looked like a techie in his weather beaten Bristol Fighter the specialist UK sports car that now sadly was out of production. Valles had got a reputation of cruising around with a bumper sticker that said: ‘Son of a Portuguese Nymphomaniac’ even though his mom was Chilean. For him the label was fitting but the accusations of sexism meant that being stoical was necessary-the offending-item must be removed. Some had been kept under house-arrest for less so any heroics was out of the question.

  Augustin smelled like a techie. Augustin stood like a techie. Augustin smiled like a techie, the truth was Augustin didn't like techies. The guy was big I mean large XL even XXL if techies come in that size. Dressed like going to a pal’s funeral. Dark pinstripe. Dark sun glasses. Augustin once drove a Ford Mondeo because techies in a survey said they didn’t like them. Augustin’s talent was in little known test called the ‘Great Western’ or ‘GW’ for short. It had come in a blinding epiphany to the creator Gildo Dávila Portillo whilst driving in his Maserati Quattroporte. Now Gildo was dead the inheritor was Augustin.

  Like a salesman with a pitch Gildo tried to paint GW in sharp relief to departmental bastion Jordan Rubio Frías what GW could do.

  “When I got wind of what happened out there Augustin on that lonely road-that unfortunate teenager without anyone to help her I knew I had to come round immediately.”

  “All assistance greatly recieved but I am not sure what this actually does. It’s a print-finder I seem to assume.”

  “That’s the GWT so you’re sort of correct-that’s a mistake a lot of people make. The GWT does bring prints into sharp relief as you sharply observed.”

  Augustin began removing his lightweight mackintosh folding it neatly with a fastidiousness which seemed to betoken a purgatorial ritual the origin of which was lost. The emissary moved towards Jordan with a certain unnatural sinuousness.