The Wash

by Cary Christopher

  “Man oh man,” called J.B. towards the kitchen. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a few years now.”

  Robert pushed through the kitchen door and out into the bar.

  “What day is that?”

  “The day when I get to lecture you about getting to work on time.”

  Robert laughed, “What time is it?”

  “3:45”

  “I killed a hell of a streak I guess.”

  He walked around behind the bar and cracked open a beer for himself.

  “Everything okay?” J.B. asked.

  “Perfect,” Robert replied. He pulled a stool next to J.B., sat down and took a pull from his beer. “You got all set up. How long have you been here?”

  “Maybe forty-five minutes. I went up to Brian Head and grabbed some lunch.”

  Robert nodded.

  “Did you get hold of anyone back on the reservation?”

  “Yeah, I did. It didn’t do much good. All I learned was that my old friend thinks I’m going to bring about the end of the world.”

  Robert almost spit his beer out, “Seriously?”

  J.B. tipped his bottle back again and swallowed, “Seriously.”

  They let the silence sit between them for a while. Bob Dylan gave way to Iron Maiden and J.B. got up and hit the skip button again.

  “Can’t you set up playlists on that thing?” asked Robert.

  “What fun is that? It’s better when you don’t have any idea what’s coming.”

  He settled on a Stevie Wonder song and sat back down.

  “So what happened after I left Ruth’s?”

  “Not much. Javier left and I just went back to my place.”

  “Sounds like a boring night.”

  “I watched a couple of movies with Cindy,” Robert slipped in as calmly as possible.

  J.B. tensed slightly and then took a casual pull from his beer.

  “What did you watch?”

  “Turns out she likes Hitchcock. We watched Vertigo and then after that we watched Animal House.”

  “Hmm,” J.B. furrowed his brow and nodded. “I’d never have guessed that combination.”

  The silence between them was broken only by Stevie Wonder giving way to Eric Clapton. Finally, Robert looked over at J.B.

  “It’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” J.B. replied. “It shouldn’t, but it is.”

  “I can stop it. I can cut her off completely if you want me to.”

  “No, man. I just need to get past it. That’s all.”

  Robert held his eyes for a minute and nodded.

  “So, you hear if anybody’s heard from Wendell?”

  “No,” J.B. replied.

  Robert took another pull from his beer.

  “Weird that he hasn’t contacted anyone.”

  “Where do you think he went?”

  Robert stared at the front door for a few beats and then looked back at J.B.

  “Maybe he just had enough of this place. Maybe it was time to move on.”

  J.B. nodded, “I’m starting to get that feeling too.”

  “I know.”

  The front door opened and the first customer came in from the cold.

  At just past midnight, J.B. dragged his ass out of the bar, climbed into the pickup truck and started the engine. The lack of good sleep the previous night had completely worn on him. When Robert told him to cut loose, he didn’t argue. The overwhelming feeling that things in The Wash were closing in sat in his mind like a weight and hearing many of the same conversations he always heard from customers didn’t help matters. On top of all of it sat his conversation with Ouray. The years spent away from the reservation had allowed J.B. to push back the memories of growing up there. The brotherhood he’d forged with Robert and Javier, allowed him to forget he didn’t have any real relatives left to fall back on. Now, those memories were stirring and two things had occurred to him.

  First, nothing really held him to The Wash. He could leave anytime he wanted. His allegiance to Javier and Robert was strong but ultimately, if staying here became too much to bear, he had no ties anywhere. He could pick up and leave. Second, even though the plan had been to keep Jim’s going for a few more years before retiring, J.B. had plenty of money to live off of for quite a while before he’d have to work again. That meant he could travel almost anywhere and keep moving until he found someplace where he could feel at home.

  All night long, those two ideas rolled around in his head. What was really keeping him here? Why shouldn’t he go?

  He rolled up in front of his house and killed the engine. Outside the air was crisp, clear and cold. Robert was going to have a chilly ride back but he’d refused rides on colder nights than this.

  ‘Besides,’ thought J.B. ‘He may just go to Cindy’s.’

  And that led to another thing that was bothering J.B. Why in the hell should he care if Robert started dating Cindy? After all, both he and Cindy knew their relationship was over. There was nothing left to salvage and as far as J.B. was concerned it had been nothing but a way to pass the time in The Wash anyway. So why now, was he so bothered by the idea of Robert and Cindy?

  J.B. shook his head as if to clear the thoughts away by force, then swung the truck door open on groaning hinges. As he made his way up to the front door and fumbled with the key ring, something snapped behind him. J.B. spun around and scanned the yard. The circle of light kicked out by the bulb above him only barely lit things up beyond the short sidewalk to the driveway. He could make out shapes of bushes and trees. He peered into the darkness a moment longer before he turned, put the key in the lock and opened the door. As he stepped inside he spun around again and this time, he saw something move from behind his truck. It was dark and low to the ground.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind him. He walked to a small cabinet built into the wall of the entryway and pulled out a 9mm pistol. He popped the clip out to make sure it was loaded and slid it back into place with a click. Then he walked back to the door and stepped outside again, pistol ready and safety off.

  He scanned back and forth across the lawn as a cold wind cut through him. To his right, he saw something flicker. Standing just out of reach of the light was a girl. She couldn’t have been any more than ten years old and she was wearing nothing but a long nightgown.

  “Hey,” J.B. called.

  The girl didn’t answer and didn’t come closer. Out of the corner of his eye, J.B. saw something else move. The low shape he’d seen before was headed toward the girl. As it got nearer to her, he made it out to be a large dog.

  “What are you doing out there?” he called out over the rising wind.

  The girl didn’t answer but flickered again, as if she was an image on a television screen. He took a step down onto the sidewalk and put the pistol back down at his side.

  “Are you okay? You’ve got to be cold,” he said. “Come on over here and let me get you a blanket or something.”

  The girl stayed where she was but the dog took a few steps forward, its head lowered menacingly. As it crept into the light, J.B. recognized it as a coyote. He raised the pistol and pointed it squarely at the animal’s head. It held its ground.

  “Is that your pet? If so you better call him off.”

  The girl said nothing but raised her arm and pointed at J.B.

  “Look, I’m not going to stand out here all night. Call that coyote off and I’ll get you something warmer to wear.”

  The girl flickered again and this time it was rapid as if there was a major interruption of the signal. Her image popped silently in and out of the darkness.

  “Look, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you but…,”

  J.B. never finished the sentence. The girl and the coyote were suddenly gone. J.B. pushed the door open and quickly grabbed a flashlight out from the cabinet drawer. He walked back out into the yard, gun still at the ready and ran to the spot where she’d stood. There
was no sign of either. His flashlight revealed unblemished snow as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose again. There was something about all of this that felt very, very bad. He went back inside, locking the door behind him.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he asked out loud as he pulled off his jacket and boots.

  He put the flashlight back in the drawer and carried the pistol with him into the bedroom, placing it on the night stand. He was tired, that had to be it. He needed a hot shower and some sleep. He walked into the bathroom, stripped and started the water running.

  Standing at the mirror he looked at himself. The work at the bar had taken a little bit of a toll on his physique but not much. He was still pretty solid despite not working construction all day. He let his eyes drift down over the scars that crossed and pockmarked his torso. The majority were reminders of his childhood. Each one represented some punishment doled out by an older kid or relative. There was the burn mark from when his uncle tossed a hot coal on him as he slept. There was the cut from the scissors his cousin had used in a fight. He could see the steam from the shower coming over the top of the glass door and turned his attention away from the mirror, when the blinking light from his answering machine caught his eye.

  J.B. let the water run, walked to the machine and hit play.

  “John Youngblood, this is John Ouray. I have been thinking about you since we talked. I apologize for the way I acted. You did not deserve it.

  “The answer you seek is not in our myths, but comes from a place much older. We have talked of these things when you were very young. There are two names you should look for to help you find your answer. The Mexican name is Izpuzteque, spelled I-z-p-u-z-t-e-q-u-e. The Mayan name is Zotzilaha Chimalman, they thought him a cave god who dwelt with bats. That is all I can tell you.”

  The message ended with an abrupt click and J.B. forgot completely about his shower. He was looking down the hall at his overstuffed bookshelf.

  X

  Cindy lay in bed unable to sleep. The night before with Robert had turned out amazing. She’d heard his hesitation on the phone and thought things might be awkward, but instead she found him warm and open. There’d been no sex but strangely she’d had the most intimate night she’d ever had. They’d laughed, talked and finally curled up and watched movies until falling asleep in each other’s arms. It had been magnificent. Even waking with him on his poor excuse of a couch, disheveled hair and morning breath in full force, hadn’t seemed awkward. It felt natural. She wanted that feeling every morning and she really wanted him next to her now. She stared at the ceiling and finally decided to get up. She walked to the kitchen to mix herself a drink. On the way through, she reached over and flipped on the television, when a knock on the door scared her. She glanced at the clock. It was after midnight.

  ‘Maybe it’s Robert,’ she thought hopefully.

  She walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Outside was a man with long red hair.

  “What do you want?” Through the peephole she saw his expression change. Suddenly he looked serious and sad.

  “I wondered if I could use your phone.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.

  “I’m broke down and I need to call someone. If you could just pass it to me through the door, I could call.”

  Cindy looked back over her shoulder to where her phone lay next to the couch. With the police miles away the only option she had would be to call Steve and Sara.

  “Sorry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, is there any place around where I can find a public phone?”

  Cindy peered through the peephole again. She’d seen this guy before.

  “You could walk up the street to Jim’s Bar. There’s a phone there.”

  The man shuffled, “I’m not familiar with this town. Could you point me to where it’s at?”

  Then it hit her. She’d seen him at the bar the night she’d confronted J.B. He’d been talking to some of the folks from the dairy.

  “Don’t bullshit me,” she said. “I’ve seen you at Jim’s. I’m calling for help right now if you don’t get the fuck off my step!”

  The man’s sad face dropped back into a grin.

  “Who’s bullshitting? I just want to call for help. Come on, Cindy. Let me inside.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I asked around. Help a man out. I’m just looking for a phone and whatever it was your friend Anderson was looking for when he visited you.”

  Cindy turned and ran for the phone. She began dialing Steve’s number when she heard him try the knob and scream in pain. Cindy walked back to the door and peered through the peephole. He was gone. She caught sight of him walking down the driveway, shaking his hand as if it were hurt, then he was out of sight.

  Robert pulled his battered Utah Jazz jacket tight to him with one hand and pushed his bicycle by the handlebars with the other. His fingers felt like icicles. The wind that cut through Ogden Wash was bitterly cold with the snow piled up three feet on each side of the road. He walked quickly, his knit cap pulled down as far as it would go and his chin tucked in a vain attempt at keeping his face warm. The bar closed two hours before and since Robert let J.B. take off early, he stayed to clean up by himself. Usually, he enjoyed the time alone and didn’t care that he had to ride home afterward, but he thought differently now. He’d locked up only to find his bicycle tires were flat. Neither had been cut, so he figured he must have run over something on the way to the bar and gotten a slow leak. Still, he didn’t have a fix-it kit with him and even if he did, he didn’t have a pump. That was all at back at home.

  ‘Nice going, genius,’ he thought for the millionth time.

  He’d started to call Javier but thought better of it. After all, it really wasn’t that far and at three in the morning, Javier was definitely passed out. J.B. would be fast asleep as well. There was a slim chance Cindy may be up but the last thing he wanted to do was start hitting her up for rides. No, the logical thing to do was to just tough it out and walk home. So now, he was about three miles away and walking along the main road through The Wash. At this point, he figured he was probably the only person awake in the whole place. The thought made him smile. He moved steadily east along the blacktop, past the boarded up front of Johnson’s Hardware and the town’s only grocery store, Joe’s. He alternated back and forth between jogging and walking, just trying to reach some place where he could get out of the wind. It didn’t take long before he reached the edge of Anderson’s car lot and he looked out over the same cars that always seemed to be there. Most were old Buick’s and Lincoln Continentals. It seemed Anderson liked the big cars even though they didn’t sell. Toward the back of the lot, between tufts of grass springing through cracks in the cement slab, there was a small VW bug, a Chevy minivan and the rusted hulk of a 1976 Ford Mustang II. Through the big picture windows in the front, he could see the lights were all off inside the white block building. The lot would have been completely dark if not for the security spotlight that beamed out from the road.

  Robert occasionally wondered if Anderson was on the up and up, but as far as he could tell, the man wasn’t crooked. Everyone in town knew he was a polygamist but otherwise, he seemed to be a law-abiding member of the community. He and his family were just accepted as part of The Wash and they mostly kept to themselves.

  As Robert reached the edge of the lot, that little bit of light gave way to a pitch black, only broken by the dim glow of the cloud covered moon. It wasn’t quite enough to light the way. Still, it was something to focus on as Robert tried to take his mind off the cold. There were no trees to block the wind between here and the cemetery by his house. Even if there had been, the wind was coming right down the road and into his face. Robert realized there was no escaping it until he reached his turnoff, so he started jogging. If he could make it that far, he’d only have another quarter of a mile until he reached the big trees around the gates of Old Ogde
n Cemetery. He’d be able to get out of the wind briefly there before the last mile home.

  Robert pushed the bike next to him and strained to see the turnoff ahead. There were large patches of white running along both sides of the road, open fields that usually housed pasture land for horses but now were buried under the thickening blankets of the first few good snowstorms of the year. In the distance on his right he thought he could barely make out the shapes of houses that marked his intersection.

  ‘Five minutes,’ he thought and picked up his pace a little more. His cheeks were growing numb and he was pretty sure that if he tried to talk out loud his lips wouldn’t form words correctly. However running felt good even if the air stung his lungs. He kept focused on the road ahead and on lengthening his stride as much as he could without wearing himself completely out.

  He was making good time when he saw the body in the road. He jumped to the side and his bike took a weird bounce, nailing him in the back of the calf and knocking him forward, his legs hopelessly tangled in the frame of the bike. He hit the pavement, barely catching himself with his hands and saving a broken nose or worse.

  “Fuck!” he spat, slowly pulling his legs from the frame of the bike.

  He rolled over onto his butt and could feel his hands burning where the asphalt scraped off skin. His legs felt all right except for the place where the pedal hit him. He picked himself up, brushed his hands on his pants and forgetting the bike, walked back over to the body lying on the side of the road. Even though he had seen more than one dead body since establishing his business with Javier, Robert was still not comfortable around them. It was laying face down and was dressed in khaki slacks and a thick gray ski jacket. Robert leaned forward and touched the man’s shoulder lightly. There was no response. He leaned forward again, this time reaching into the man’s pockets to try to find a wallet or some identification. There was nothing. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and flipped him over, exposing a white shirt and blue blazer under the ski jacket. Robert leaned closer to get a good look at his face when the man opened his eyes.