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Part XI: 1969- Back to the Garden
Alice fell bonelessly against Federico, not by any will. She'd never fainted in her life...had never even 'caught the spirit' during Sunday service...but she had the sense that she was fainting now, which was a real crock of shit, when you thought about it, and if her mother could see her now, swooning into some strange older (?) white (?) man's arms in an honest-to-Adam tent on cursed Injun land...
This thought did little to raise her spirits.
"I-I dreamed of you," she said brokenly, not even realizing at first what she was saying but knowing of course that she must. She could understand Shaggy's desperation, running out to her at the water to give her the news. It was a smoker's compulsion: quiet but persistent in the back of her brain.
She was suddenly very glad Federico had stayed.
Recovering herself, Alice pulled back enough to look at him properly as she blinked her tears away, "I-I thought you were my brother," the thought brought a hysterical laugh to her lips: equal parts betrayal and absurdity. She lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle the ugly sound, to little avail.
"It's you next," she said hollowly, "Sorry."
***
Lettie was slow to wake, being first aware of a pair of strong arms around her middle. The thought occasioned only a brief flare of alarm before she remembered.
Bobby.
The thought brought a smile to her face she supposed a lady novelist might call 'girlish'. She wasn't sure when she'd last smiled 'girlishly'. Probably before her first training bra. And if a 'girl', as she thought of girls, woke up in a situation like this, well, Lettie would probably be able to challenge her mother for righteous outrage.
Before she could ponder this any further, she remembered she and Bobby weren't alone in the woods. Her vision reconstituted to make out the outline of Hesh's face hovering above her and a flash of heat rose in her cheeks.
"Hey!" she began, not sure what or even who she was reproaching (Hesh or herself), beginning to sit up, only to feel a staying hand on her shoulder.
Bobby, behind her, had been quicker on the uptake. She turned to him and saw the finger pressed to his lips. Quieting her self-conscious heart as she cast her eyes around the dawn-lit glen, Lettie could make out the sound too: people, and not far off.
Bobby began to rise, slowly withdrawing his hand from her shoulder. Lettie unthinkingly caught it in time, holding his hand, not hard, but enough to get her to her feet. Bobby gave her a look, momentary surprise melting into a faint smile as, with his other hand, he recollected his belt from the ground, his service weapon still poking from its holster. This, he reaffixed quickly, giving Hesh a nod that he was ready to move out.
-Alice, Lettie, and Bobby
Federico was flattered at first. He couldn't think of a time when somebody dreamed of him. Maybe they saw him in a nightmare or a drug-addled delusion. But dreaming of him? That was a first.
Then he remembered the curse that was looming over all of their heads and any fuzzy feelings dissipated in an instant.
"'S me, huh?" Federico repeated, letting the information soak in. "Well, shit." Suddenly, there was a gleam in his eyes. It was a familiar one that popped up whenever he concocted a new hare-brained scheme or business venture. Fabia knew it well, when Federico suggested they get into illegal fireworks. Benjy and the boys knew it too, when he insisted on going electric when they got the chance. And maybe Alice caught a hint of it in the few days she had gotten to know him.
But this...this right here...was fuckin' gleam. The best one he's had yet.
"Alice, baby," he smirked, barely able to contain his excitement. "I got us a fuckin' plan."
***
Hesh was relieved to see how quick Bobby and Lettie were on the uptake. Under circumstances like these, there wasn't much time to repeat oneself.
They hugged the ground low, sticking close to trees and bushes. Fortunately, they weren't surrounded yet, and had some room to maneuver. He quickly withdrew the map from his pocket and was able to surmise they were still going in the right direction or at least a vague approximation of it. Specifics didn't really matter when you had a bullet lodged in the back of your skull.
And these goons were packing. Sawed-offs and hunting rifles. The bikers were seeking them out like they were big game. They were serious about this vendetta of theirs and then some.
The growl of an engine hummed in the near distance, growing louder and louder. "Get down!" Hesh mouthed to Bobby and Lettie, ducking into a bush and taking the two of them with him.
-Federico "Fucker" Federale and Hesh
"A plan?" Alice repeated dully, getting unsteadily to her feet, "What do you mean 'a plan'? You go to sleep, you have a dream, we all die. I'm sorry, Moses, but I don't know how your ass is gonna jive out of this one."
***
They heeded Hesh's warning expediently. Bobby dropped to one knee, one hand hovering over his gun which, if Lettie was remembering correctly, was currently almost useless. She couldn't see how they'd make out if they were spotted.
All the more reason to stay quiet.
This was expedited by the stentorian rumbling drawing through the woods. Lettie recognized the mechanical groans of an overtaxed engine, accompanied by the snapping of trampled brush.
She craned her neck, but in half a second found she needn't have bothered.
It pushed through the undergrowth like a lumbering beast of burden: a buffalo or a rhinoceros. It was covered with bits of woodland detritus: broken limbs and snags of creeper plant...the same ones that had been taxing them on foot during their rough hike. Smaller protrusions trundled along from its sides and back, like tumors, each one dragging its own bit of the scenery with it.
It was, improbably, Dag's van, with the Tupelo's surviving bikes hitched along. The thing moved in fits and starts, stopping to readjust, the wheels kicking up hell against the thick humus of the forest floor, the easy give of the week's rain long dried up.
The windshield was almost curtained with bits of bracken the van must have driven through on the way. The driver must have little more than a pinprick for a sightline.
Somehow, the notion didn't cheer her up any.
-Alice, Lettie, and Bobby
"Oh, trust me, I got my ways," Federico jumped to his feet and made for the tent exit. "Fuckin' first point o' order, we gotta get the..." He stepped outside, only to find several pairs of eyes staring him back. "...others." Fabia, Benjy, Chester, Shags, Joan, the Queer and Antman were eagerly awaiting their arrival, no doubt to see how Alice was doing.
"Oh," he uttered, taking the sight in. "Just who I was lookin' for." Understanding that they were checking in on Alice and not him, he was quick to drag the latest Dream Curse/Fuckin' Federico "Fucker" Federale Curse out into the open. "She's alive, by the way. Lady's tough as a fuckin' redwood."
***
Hesh held his breath, slowly adjusting his position as the van inched closer and closer. It was getting far too close for comfort and he began to worry if their window to just book it had already closed.
BANG!
He bit back a startled cry as a shotgun blast echoed through the woods. For a second, Hesh thought he was shot and he was just having a delayed reaction. His next instinct was to check on Bobby and Lettie, but they were in one piece, too.
No. The one who actually bit the bullet was someone nearby, whose cries of agony now filled the silence.
"Aw, geez, Lester, I'm sorry." Some other dope was speaking now, his voice beleaguered and his tone almost nonchalant. Hesh didn't need Bureau training to see this guy's mind was currently soaring through another galaxy right now.
"Oh, Jesus FUCK, my leg!" The victim of the buckshot was writhing on the ground, clutching what was left of his right thigh. "Oh, Gawwwwd! OH, GAWWWWWWWWWWWWWD!"
"What the fuck, Tommy?" Another biker stepped forward, a young-looking kid; couldn't have been much older than Oswald was.
"I said I was sorry, man." Tommy essentially yawned the words out. "It's just...y'know...foggy and all..."
"AWWWWWWWW FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IT HURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTS!!!!!"
"Only thing foggy here is your mind!" The van's passenger door slammed shut as a craggy but familiar face stepped out: Dag. "Showin' up here, high off your ass!"
"JESUS CHRIST AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
"Shaddup!" Dag snatched Tommy's rifle, aimed it at Lester's head, and...
BANG!
...well, he shut up Lester.
Viscera from the poor sap's skull spread everywhere, even reaching where Hesh, Bobby, and Lettie were hiding. Hesh shielded his face with his arm just in time, though Lettie wasn't as lucky. A smattering of...something was stuck to her forehead. He tried to signal to her that she had a piece of Lester near her hairline but was reluctant. Maybe ignorance was bliss in a scenario like this, considering not everybody would be able to silently stomach the idea of somebody else's grey matter taking a vacation on their head.
Instead, Hesh gave Bobby a look, essentially signaling him to give Lettie a look. He was in a better position than Hesh was, considering the two of them had gotten so close.
-Federico "Fucker" Federale, Hesh and Dag
Alice stuck her head out from behind Fedder to better behold the multitude that had gathered outside, "You want a peep show? That's fifty cents up front, and nothing below the waist."
"Praise the Great Spirit, she lives," intoned Fabia flatly as Alice came out of the tent to look about at the gawking crowd.
"What, were all you hoping to catch a glimpse of Ol' Scratch come to carry me off? Jesus."
"Hey, I was just on my way to take a leak," said Benjy, presumably facetiously. Across the midway, Joan darted a disapproving look from the corner of her eye, "Are you okay?"
"Shaken up," she said shortly, "And y'all crouching at the door like I'm a zoo animal ain't helping any."
"S-s-sorry," Todd ventured from his position at the edge of the little cluster, "M-m-morbid curiosity..."
"Oh, you mean if I dreamed of you?"
Todd flushed bright scarlet. Beside him, Tony shrugged, "Did you?"
"Count your blessings, boys," Alice said bitterly, "You're off the hook for now," and indicated Federico behind her.
"Fucker at the bat," Shaggy observed grimly, giving Federico a pitying look, "Sorry, man."
"I'm sorrier," intoned Benjy, turning back to Fedder, "Do you even sleep?"
***
Lettie shoved her fist in her mouth to stifle a scream at the spray of hot blood and what could only be described as 'bits' against her front. Something heavy and solid pressed down behind her and her brow kissed the earth.
Bobby had thrown himself over her, pinning her to the ground. She got a mouthful of dirt for her trouble, but given the circumstances she could manage. Expelling a bit of sedge from her lungs, she turned partly to look at Bobby. He met her eyes, brow furrowed in worry.
Lettie flicked a scrap of brain from his cheek. He traced her fingers with his eyes with a sort of dazed bemusement and proceeded to do the same favor for a spot on her chin.
-Alice, Fabia, Benjy, Joan, Todd, Tony, Shaggy, Lettie, and Bobby
Federico cackled maniacally, wrapping his arms chummily around both Shaggy and Benjy. "Fucker's at the bat, alright! But you know me: I don't fuckin' strike out!" His looked to Benjy. "That's the fuckin' question, ain't it, Benjy? That's just the fuckin' quest-shun!" He clapped both of his buddies on the back and approached his third bandmate, snapping him with an on-the-spot question. "Baton Rogue! The Dozier Inn. February 19th, Nine-teen-SIXTY-NINE! Around 3 o'clock in da mornin'...what did you see me doing?"
***
Once Lester's headless corpse crumpled to the forest floor, Dag forcefully shoved the shotgun back into Tommy's arms. The stoner biker seemed much more awake than he was mere moments ago, though with his more diligent vigilance came a frightened speechlessness. His peers were no different as Dag stood in the center of them, looking at each and every one of his men with disgust. They anticipated the storm that was about to hit them.
Nevertheless, nothing could prepare them for Dag's anger.
"AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THIS?!" Tupelo roared, slapping the embroidered Tupelo flower on his leather jacket, placed right over his heart. "Honor! Duty! Brotherhood! Each and every one of you fucks made an oath when you got these jackets! For Christ's sake, these bastards murdered Tacoma, Telly, Vincent, Rooney--more people than I can count! And this is how you repay them?! By cookin' your brains and shootin' each other?!"
"I-I'm sorry, man!" Tommy stammered, now fearing he smoked just enough for him to forget how and when to shut up. "I'm just self-medicatin'! I haven't gotten much sleep a-a-and I'm scared..."
"Oh, boo-fuckin'-hoo!" Dag hissed. He was about to go on another tirade when the younger biker interjected again.
"A lotta the guys are stressed, Dag," the small fry spoke diplomatically, though his eyes gave away just how afraid he was. "It's been a long trip and none of us have been able to get a lotta sleep. Hell, we might have already lost them. It's like we're chasin' ghosts out here..."
"So, what are you suggestin', Beeks?" Dag snarled, stepping toward the kid; he towered over him by a good few inches. "We just let this go? You tellin' me you're some kinda hippie now?"
"N-no, Dag, it's just..." But Beeks couldn't get the words out as his boss snatched him by the collar.
"No. Loose. Ends." Dag said the words emphatically, pulling Beeks close to him. "That's the Tupelo way. Ya wanna know how you're actin' right now?"
Beeks' eyes widened in realization. "D-Dag..."
"Like a fuckin' loose end," Dag went on, uninterrupted. "You're either with us or we bury you right next to those Shreveport fucks."
"B-but Dag..."
"For fuck's sake, I like you, Beeks!" Dag hissed, tightening his grip on Beeks' collar. "Do you really want to die over this?!"
"Your nose!"
Dag paused, finally following his underling's eyes to what he was really looking at: a rivulet of blood streaming from his right nostril. He noticed it just as the trickle touched his lips and he tasted a bit of the blood's metallic flavor.
He was quick to let go of Beeks and wipe away the blood before any of his men could see him bleed. In this business, any sign of weakness could have signaled the end for a man like Dag. He needed to appear strong.
Beeks, however, continued to press the issue. "You're not the only one, boss! That's been happenin' to all of us! Shit, I think we might be gettin' sick out here..."
"Bullshit." Dag replied curtly, not wanting to give the idea any credence. "Probably altitude or some shit. We're pretty high up."
Beeks knew they weren't high up at all and that Dag was the one doing the bullshitting. Before he could call Dag out, though, a rustling in the bushes caught both of their attentions.
Dag was the one who investigated, stepping towards the source of the sound. He stepped lightly, silently signaling to Tommy to aim his shotgun at the bushes. The stoner did as told, waiting for Dag's cue to pull the trigger. Dag grabbed a few branches of the bushes, giving one look at his men before finally tearing them away. Tommy took this as his cue...
BANG!
The bikers all hurried to where Tommy had shot the buckshot, eager to see if they finally snagged their prey...
...but there was nobody there, save for squirrel scurrying out of the brush for higher ground. At first, disappointment filled the air but Dag refused to admit defeat. He knelt down and investigated the dirt behind the bushes.
Footprints, deeply etched into the mud. There were people hiding here. The prints continued off approximately to the north, but they became less dug in to the dirt as they went on, eventually fading as their targets likely picked up speed, stepping on the ground faster than they could leave their mark.
"They couldn't have gone far," Dag announced to his men, reclaiming his authority as leader. "Let's go!"
Not wanting to test his ire, the Tupelo thugs quickly fell in line and began to follow the footprints for as long as they could before, yet again searching every tree, every stream, every burrow for their prey. Beeks was the last to follow, feeling more and more apprehensive about their mission as they continued to wander further and further into these godforsaken woods.
He told himself they'd be finished soon and all of this vendetta business would be behind them. Besides, how much longer could those guys last in these woods, outnumbered and outgunned, probably just as lost as they were?
Beeks smiled tiredly, despite himself, before trudging on. Those assholes didn't have a chance in hell.
***
Hesh brought up the rear of the group, constantly looking over his shoulder to see if they were being followed and always urging Bobby and Lettie to keep moving. The gunshot he heard a couple of minutes ago sounded far away but they had to play it safe for as long as it took them to get to Joan.
"Alright," he exhaled in a tired whisper to the others. "We don't stop. Not for anything. Got it?"
-Federico "Fucker" Federale, Dag, Beeks and Hesh
Shaggy let out a short yelp as Federico pulled him close. Chester, for his part, sighed laboriously, intoning, "There are ladies present, Fedder."
"No, by all means," Alice darted briefly back into her tent and emerged with a gaily patterned shawl, pulling it around herself in a last ditch attempt at preserving her modesty, "Since we're all getting along so great."
"You were walking around like a spook out of Night of the Living Dead," Benjy answered with a shrug, "I figured you'd been dropping acid."
"I t-t-thought his trade was firecrackers?" asked Todd.
"Helps to have a diverse portfolio," observed Fabia lowly, "Not to give you a cold hosing, Rico, but even if you have been hiding sugar cubes up your sleeves this whole time, it won't be much help."
***
Bobby nodded grim agreement. Lettie, lighter on her feet but shakier, couldn't stop looking over her shoulder.
"You don't have to tell me twice," she was suddenly aware of a childish twinge in her voice but lacked the capacity to feel ashamed over it, "I don't get it."
"What's there to get?" asked Bobby, "You said it yourself before: guy's psycho. We scratched him where he didn't like it, and he's dropped whatever marbles he still had."
"Maybe," Lettie granted, "He wasn't Captain Clean back at the house either, but..." she sighed, "That look in his eyes, when he pulled the trigger..." she shook her head, "They were black."
-Shaggy, Chester, Alice, Benjy, Todd, Fabia, Bobby, and Lettie
"But that's just the fuckin' thing, Fabs!" Federico sauntered over to her. "I don't need no sugar cubes! That's just how I am!" He turned on his heel, addressing his audience with an irrepressible glee. "I've been sleepwalkin' as long as I can remember because..." His teeth shown in a particularly sneaky grin. "...I walk in my dreams. Ya see, I'm what you call a...fuckin-uhhhhhhh..." He snapped his fingers once he found the word. "...lurid dreamer."
***
Black eyes...
Hesh tried to remember if that's how Dag looked in that moment. He'd seen his fair share of brutal murderers in the past--serial killers, gangsters, drug dealers, pimps and so on--and across all of them, they all had something in their eyes. A glint or perhaps an inability to blink. Maybe they were glazed-over or perhaps they were too expressive.
What was common throughout all of them was a darkness that warned others that they had sacrificed a part of themselves, a part of their souls because they chose to kill in cold blood. Their humanity had begun to erode and they began to resemble animals more than people.
It had been a while since Hesh had glimpsed his own reflection. He wondered--given his own history and the long trail of bodies he'd left in his wake, intentional or not-- if his eyes weren't that much different than Dag's.
Quit the poetry, Hesh. Focus.
Hesh shook the thought from his head and kept walking, trying only to focus on the task at hand. The only black eyes he chose to worry about were Dag's as he kept a vigilant watch over his shoulder as much as possible.
They were being hunted by an animal, alright. A relentless and determined animal. So the three of them had to be relentless and determined themselves.
Forward. Always forward. No matter what.
-Federico "Fucker" Federale and Hesh
"You mean lucid dreaming?" asked Tony skeptically.
"Hey, I read an article about that in Women's Day!" declared Joanie.
"That's, what, like nocturnal emissions?" asked Benjy.
"What kind of magazines are you reading?" Chester asked, grinning with uncommon cheekiness as Joan rolled her eyes.
"It's like a waking dream," explained Tony, "You're asleep, and you're having a dream but you can choose what you do..." he furrowed his brow at Federico, "I thought that stuff was made up to sell crystals and bath salts."
"I-is it really possible?" asked Todd skeptically, "S-sounds like something out of Amazing Stories!"
-Tony, Joanie, Benjy, Chester, and Todd
"Oh, it's possible, Antman!" Federico assured Todd. "Think about it: I walk around in this fuckin' dream, right? And I see what the fuck is the deal with this curse, right? Then I wake the fuck up and report back, right? Piece a' fuckin' cake!"
"That's an airy goddamn cake," Fabia granted, "But it's the only one at the bakery, and there's a helluva party coming up."
"Wait, what?" Tony demanded.
"I'm not explaining my metaphors, kid. Life's short enough as it is."
"No, I mean...this is the plan?" he gestured broadly, "He goes into a dream and...what? Punches the curse in the face? I don't get it."
"Do you have a better idea?" asked Joan with uncommon sharpness. Tony winced as she folded her arms, "Maybe there are clues in the dreams that we...most people...can't see. Things tucked out of sight or hidden between the lines," she looked at the others, "It's not that crazy, is it?"
"Oh, it's crazy, alright," said Alice, "But it's what we've got."
-Fabia, Tony, Joan, and Alice
"Trust me, my comrades!" Federico opened his arms out wide as if he were Jesus Christ himself. "Fucker knows what's best." Before they could say otherwise, he continued speaking. "Just one thing: I'm goin' to Dreamland now." He slapped his cranium twice. "I want you to knock me out. Dig?"
"Not cutting any corners, huh?" scoffed Chester.
"I've got some reefer in my tent," said Shaggy, "If that helps."
"R-r-r-reefer?" Todd exclaimed, "But weren't you s-s-searched by the police?"
"There's places they don't look," his lips curled churlishly.
"You've stunk up the place enough without any of that hash," Fabia growled, "Give me five minutes, I'll brew up a nice herbal tea that'll knock you off your..."
There was a soft smack and a thud. Tony let out a sharp shriek and Todd stuttered an "Oh, m-m-my!" as Federico "Fucker" Federale landed gracelessly on the ground between them.
"What?" Alice looked around at them, wringing out her hand, "The man said he wanted to get knocked out."
"I'd hate to see what you do to the guys that don't ask for it," Benjy observed wryly.
"Mind your manners, boy, or you might find out before we're through."
Tony frowned down at the prone form of Federico. His lanky, oddly angular frame looked almost artificial, like a beaten-up crash test dummy. He shifted on his feet, pointedly avoiding Joan's eyes, not wanting to step on more toes than he already had.
"Maybe it will work," he offered breezily, "You guys would know better than me. I don't know where I got off Dreamsplaining to you, and I haven't even gotten it yet..."
"It's a w-w-worthy hypothesis," Todd concurred, "Nothing ventured nothing g-g-gained."
"And if nothing is gained..." Shaggy began ominously, and didn't finish. He didn't have to. If Federico couldn't alternatively kung fu or Nancy Drew his way out of the Curse during his dream, the curse would go on as planned...and they'd all be one link farther up the chain.
And they all knew where that chain ended.
"Well, sleepwalker or not, he's not moving yet," said Fabia matter-of-factly, "And I'm not inclined to have him ass-up on my lawn drawing flies," she stepped forward and, with surprising strength, hooked an arm under Federico's left, looking expectantly at the others, "Well? Any of you strapping worthies want to lend an old lady a hand?"
Benjy, Chester, and Shaggy proceeded to do the closest thing to harmonizing in Blackbirds history as they spoke over each other with various inelegant protests. Todd began rolling up his sleeves and pouting when they determined to keep rolling back down to his wrists.
"Well, I guess..." Tony began.
"Forget it," declared Alice, stepping forward, "I can pick up after myself if I can't do anything else," she paused, "Anyway, I owe him one. Even if all he does is kill me quicker, he spared me a day's worry about that damn dream, if I'm understanding this curse shit."
"That he did," Fabia granted, indicating for Alice to take Federico's right side, "Alright: one, two, three..."
Between them, they hauled Federico to his feet and proceeded to drag him off, not toward his tent, but up the ridge, to Fabia's cabin.
"Think it'll work?" asked Shaggy.
"Hell if I know," said Benjy, "I didn't know what a 'lucid dream' was until 10 minutes ago," he looked covertly at Joanie who met his eyes briefly, turning pink around the ears as she brushed her hair behind her ear, "What else did that bit in Women's Day say?"
"Oh, not much," said Joan flatly, "I gave up reading when she started on about meeting Charlton Heston."
***
"That's some right hook," Fabia commented casually as they marched their burden onward, "Where'd you pick that up?"
"My brother taught me," Alice said tersely.
"Rough neighborhood, huh?"
Alice gave her a look, "Our Pop worked the Malt Shop. Mama was a dressmaker. We even had running water and a toilet. Which, unless I'm mistaken, has one over on this place."
Fabia didn't deny this, "Alright, alright, take it easy. I made an assumption. But you were born in a colored neighborhood. Went to colored school."
"For most of it," Alice noted, "The kids weren't that tough. But it may be Miles was just good at scarin' 'em off."
A little more than 'may be'. Alice remembered being surrounded on the corner, blocks from their Pop's store, by a pair of boys eager for her pocket change.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way..."
They'd seemed so much bigger than her. But Miles was still bigger than them. His shadow had fallen over them like a shroud, or a shield.
"Go flush a gutter, if you're so hard up for money."
"He was always good at scaring people," she observed bitterly, "Maybe too good."
Fabia shouldered open the cabin with a chain of sotto-voiced cusses. Alice looked around the quaint environs with mild interest.
"You burning hair oil in here or what?"
"That's cloves and mustard," Fabia nodded to the low burning fire in the hearth, over which there was an honest to god pot-bellied cauldron simmering, "I've had that going through the night."
"Make your own laxative?"
"If you like," Fabia decided, "Dream laxative."
Alice decidedly did not like this image and grimaced in distaste as they dropped Federico onto the rusty-springed sofa beneath the back window.
"I thought you didn't know a way to undo the curse?"
"I don't," she indicated the pot, "This is me throwing every seasoning into the sauce to see what sticks. No slight to Rico's intuition, but it's premised on a bit more than a wishful hunch."
Alice couldn't deny this. She looked lingeringly at Federico's still form, the morning sunlight wafting in through the window, giving him an odd, bronze quality.
"You and him go back a ways, huh?"
"Sure."
"He always been like this?"
The older woman snorted and Alice frowned, "Something funny?"
"I guess it wouldn't be to you," she sighed, "See, it's a complicated question."
"Seems to me, that's only if you want to complicate it. Which I get is a habit of yours..."
"I've known him a while, yes. But if you're asking me how long I've known Federico Federale, it's not half as long as I've known this fucker knocked out on my davenport."
Alice huffed, "Man of many names, huh?"
"And about as many faces," she folded her arms, studying Federico quietly, "He came along when I was in a low place. He was pretty low himself, and about as strung out as I was. He didn't have a penny or a friend to bum one off of. I'd come off a bit of a..." she grimaced, casting a caustic eye around her cozy domicile, "Family dispute. He needed a place to crash and, well, suffice to say I'd recently found myself with a lot of spare space."
"So you took him in? Just like that."
"Well, I had my reservations. I was a younger woman then, and not without a bit of freshness to me, if you can believe that."
"Regular Buffy Sainte-Marie."
"Wrong Indian," Fabia pointed, "And I was a sight bustier, too. And you know Rico..."
"I know a bit of him," Alice noted.
"A pretty thing like me and a desperate man like that...I said to myself 'Woman, you've gotta be out of your damn mind breaking bread with this yahoo'. But, like I say, I was pretty lonesome. And besides that...I had a responsibility."
"To Fedder?"
"To myself. My..." her attention alighted on a talisman hung over the doorway. Alice had seen things like it at roadside curio stands: a sort of hoop, made of many colored beads woven together: reds, blues and blacks bright against a dull neutral background, to create the impression of a bird, its wings dovetailed to either side, as if it were diving.
A dream catcher.
"My people. We have a tradition, a credo you can call it, about as old as dust: 'Welcome the stranger'. Think of it as sacred hospitality, like the Greeks and the Arabs. You look after people and the world pays you back," she sighed, "I figured, I may have thrown out every other Okhtva tradition, but if I couldn't do anything else, I could still look after an itinerant loser with nowhere else to go."
She grabbed a patchwork quilt from the foot of the brass bed and draped it with uncommon care over Federico, "And, say what you will about this poor Fucker...he comes through for his people. Come hell or high water. So I figure it wasn't a bad bargain," she tucked him in, lips pressed into a thin line, "Even if he's brought Grim Death to my doorstep."
***
They sat around the dormant firepit in a crude circle, one point short of a witch's Pentagram. Tony had shuffled off on his own way, maybe self-conscious about his skepticism. Todd hadn't lingered much longer, which Joan figured she couldn't blame him for. She was about the only person around he could strike up a conversation with, and their interactions in school hadn't exactly been enough to build a friendship on.
So that left her here with Benjy and his Blackbirds, minus one.
Benjy had retrieved his loaner guitar from their...well, from Joan's tent. She hadn't stopped him. It was his, or at least more his than hers.
And she wasn't that petty. He sat now, the guitar balanced on his knee, as he plucked away, softly intoning, "She comes in colors everywhere/She combs her hair/She's like a rainbow..."
To his right, Shaggy chewed pensively on a lock of hair. The sight was stomach turning, but given they'd all skipped breakfast, there wasn't much Joan's protesting stomach could do.
Across from Shaggy, Chester kept tapping his foot against the ground. His own hair, usually pretty well coiffed by the standards of the company he kept, was lank and uncombed. Why shouldn't it be? They'd been squatting here nearly a week by now, with nothing but the lake to keep clean in, and that wasn't accounting for the dreams and the subsequent sleepless nights.
His eyes, blue and bloodshot, kept darting irately at Shaggy. He must have caught Joan watching this, as he smiled guiltily.
"So how many food groups is that, Shags?"
"Huh?" Shaggy paused, a hank of hair still in his chompers, which he quietly expelled, "Oh. Sorry. It's too early to smoke."
"I dunno about that. Far as we're concerned, it's a minute to midnight," he retrieved a much abused box of Viceroys and offered one to Shaggy, who accepted with a sigh.
"You like these fancyboy smokes, huh?"
"A man's got to have some indulgences," he proferred the carton to Joan, "And a lady too."
Joan shook her head, "I don't smoke, Chester," beyond his outstretched arm, she saw Benjy's eye glinting from beneath the fringe of his hair, "I'm an ill girl, remember?"
"Right," he sighed, lighting his own smoke, "Sorry. Forgot."
He leaned back and seemed to feel Benjy's eyes on him. "Oh. Ben, sorry, I figured you were jamming..."
"I can multitask, can't I?" Benjy asked steelily, "As well as the next guy, at least. But it's fine. I'm trying to clean up my act. It being about midnight, after all."
Chester flushed scarlet, lighting his own cigarette, "It may not be that bad."
"That's cute, Chess."
"Fedder may come through," said Shaggy.
"You believe that?" asked Benjy.
"Don't you?"
"I was just putting on a brave face. Fedder talks a big game but he is, you may have noticed, out of his gourd."
"Might work to his advantage, might it?"
"Either way, we're getting to the end of it. Not many more saps this thing can jump to..." Benjy looked around at the three of them, "You've all had your turn already."
"Ben..." Chester began.
"No, you don't have to have that hangdog look on your face. It's true and I know it. The clock's ticking closer on my turn, and a good thing that'll be because, once it gets to me..." he snapped his fingers, "Curtains, right?"
"A good thing?" Joan repeated.
"Well, for everyone but you all. Everyone it hasn't gotten to."
"That's pretty morbid, man," said Shaggy.
"Maybe, but you've all been thinking it. Maybe I should go on over there," he jerked his thumb to Fabia's cabin, "Whisper my name in Fedder's ear. Maybe I can speed things along. Do a real credit to my fellow man."
"Don't be so self-pitying," Joan snapped with uncommon vehemence, "You're not going to do that and nobody here was thinking you should."
"You're so sure, Joan?" he put his guitar aside and got up, "You weren't sitting there thinking how much nicer it'd be if I kicked the bucket? Maybe wondering what'd happen if I was done for before Rosa's hex got her claws in me?"
"Back off, Ben," Chester snapped, "You don't know what she's thinking."
"Oh, and you do?" he rounded on him.
"Jesus Christ, man."
"What are you thinking, Chess? That I should have gone crawling back to Athens when I had the chance? Play house with the gypsy girl, let her have everything she wanted and then none of this would've happened?"
"I never said a damn thing about it!" Chester got to his feet, his freshly lit cigarette guttering out on the ground as he went.
"Hey, man..." Shaggy began and was roundly ignored by all parties.
"But you thought it," Benjy stood as well, "You thought it then and you're thinking it now. That I should've taken my big dreams and chucked them in the trash where they belonged and we'd all be a lot happier for it."
There was a charged silence. Chester stepped back, "You're the one saying it, Ben. Nobody else."
Benjy didn't say anything to that, fingers twitching at his sides, plucking an unheard melody from unseen strings. Finally, with a last, lingering look at Joan, he turned on his heel and stalked off.
"Shit," Shaggy sighed, "Should we..."
"What's the point?" Chester asked, "He's made up his mind."
Joan stood between them, watching Benjy's receding figure, his guitar abandoned on the ground by the extinguished fire, still and silent.
She comes in colors everywhere.
In her mind, she heard the chiming of an old clock: 10 minutes to midnight.
-Chester, Shaggy, Todd, Tony, Fabia, Alice, Benjy, and Joan