Double Dose, page 10
(“Actually it was more like eighty-four hours ago.”)
Daley squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “Then, on the other hand…”
(“There I go pettifogging again! I’m also working on that too.”)
She knew she had to expect and accept a certain level of tight-assedness from Pard—he was who he was—but sometimes…
“Anyway, as I was saying, I think we have a numbers problem with the horrors patients.”
(“Absolutely. We can’t possibly reach every sufferer, especially with more people falling victim every day, so the solution seems to lie with cutting off the source of fear.”)
“How do we do that?”
(“I haven’t a clue, Daley. Not a clue.”)
27
Come the dark, Daley wasn’t too surprised to hear a tap on her door. Had been kind of expecting it.
Note Man’s back.
(“Are you sure it’s him?”)
She pointed to the slip of paper on the floor just inside the door. Yep.
Can we talk?
“Of course,” she said. “Wait till I turn the lights out.”
No need
“You sure?”
When no note came through she assumed he was, so she opened the door.
Note Man still wore his hoodie which shadowed most of his face, but what she could see of his features showed the barklike skin she’d seen on his hands and arms. He stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“Hello, Daley,” he said in a husky tone.
She had to smile. “Your voice…it’s…”
“Stronger? Yes. I can’t raise it much beyond this conversational tone yet, but it’s steadily improving.”
“Is everything okay otherwise?”
“No, the clan is generally a mess, but things couldn’t be better for me personally. I had a question and also wanted to confirm our walk tomorrow night.”
“The walk of wonders? Sure. Just what wonders are you going to show me?”
She saw a flash of white as he smiled. At least his affliction hadn’t affected his teeth.
“You’ll have to wait and see, I’m afraid. But I guarantee they will occupy your mind long after tomorrow night.”
(“Now I’m intrigued. Whatever could he have up his sleeve—besides more river birch skin?”)
Unkind!
(“Only if he’d heard it, which he didn’t.”)
“I can’t wait. And the question?”
“I have to ask this…it’s haunted me ever since news came about the cures of the horrors down at the medical center.”
(“I know what’s comingggg,”) Pard singsonged.
Kind of obvious.
“I think I know what you’re going to say, but I’ll let you say it.”
“Okay. Considering the miraculous change you’ve done for me, and since the only known cures of the horrors have occurred just thirty miles away, it’s only logical to assume you’re behind them. So I have to ask: Was that you?”
(“First off, I wouldn’t say it’s ‘logical.’ Secondly—”)
Never mind that. What do I say?
“You’re hesitating,” Note Man said. “Please don’t feel you have to answer.”
(“But not answering is an answer in itself, isn’t it.”)
For sure.
“I’ll need your promise of discretion.”
“You have it.” To her shock, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “After what you’ve done for me, I’m at your command. Anything I have is yours, My Lady. Anything you want, consider it done.”
An embarrassed laugh escaped her. “Wow. Now I know how Guinevere felt.”
“Consider me your Lancelot,” he said, rising.
“All right, yes, that was me.”
(“If I had a tongue, I’d be biting it.”)
Hush.
“I assumed so. And considering the media frenzy around El Centro right now, I can understand why you’d want to keep the credit at arm’s length. But how did you—?”
“I did what I did. Can we please just leave it at that?”
He bowed. “Absolutely.”
Daley wanted to switch the topic.
“Where are we on the rest of that film?”
He sighed as he rose. “As I told you, I no longer have access to the copy at the Lodge. But I’ve been doing some searching and found a receipt from a service in San Diego for the digitization of home movies.”
“And you think that’s where Elis Pendry had it put on disk?”
“I’m reasonably sure, but this was all twenty or so years ago. The business has since been sold and the name changed.”
“Well, damn!”
“Hold on. I’m on the case and homing in on an answer. I hope to have a name and address for you when next we meet. In the meantime, prepare yourself for wonders tomorrow.”
“I’ll have my walking shoes by the door. What time?”
“Late. Say around eleven? We’ll be walking though the desert.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. On one of my stops in the desert I saw these giant lizards and—”
“They weren’t lizards,” he said.
“Then what—?”
“They won’t be around, and even if they were, they wouldn’t harm you. The film will explain them.”
She suppressed a gasp. “The film? You mean they’re related to those aliens, the Visitors?”
He nodded within his hoodie. “There’s a lot going on around here you need to know about. I could never adequately explain it. You need to see it to grasp it. It’s all in the film. Well, most of it. Still some things going on around here that I can’t put my finger on.” With a quick bow, he said, “Until tomorrow, M’lady,” and then he was out the door and gone.
(“It appears you have a knight errant to do your bidding.”)
Can my life get any more weird? Can it?
(“Nespodee Springs appears to be a quagmire of intrigue.”)
And we’re right in the middle of it.
THURSDAY—March 12
28
Daley watched the morning news shows which all carried the second press conference from ECRMC, and once again poor Dr. Milton had no explanation for yesterday’s two cures.
In the Q & A section, the first reporter asked the question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind—everyone but Daley and Pard, of course: Why here? Why El Centro? Horrors patients were being treated in Cedars-Sinai in LA to the Naval Medical Center in San Diego and in every hospital between with no results. Yet here in this relatively tiny hospital in a desert town in the Imperial Valley, victims were being cured. Why? How?
Dr. Milton cited “spontaneous remission” again but no one was satisfied with that.
At ten a.m. Daley went down and opened the shop.
(“Looks like another slow day,”) Pard said from his seat in the window. (“They can’t all be as exciting as yesterday.”)
“Exciting? I’d call it nerve wracking. But at least we have tonight to look forward to. What kind of wonders can Note Man show us—I mean, within walking distance?”
(“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m prepared to be unimpressed. ‘Wonders’ indeed. We’ve seen all there is to be seen here.”)
Daley wasn’t so sure about that. “You never know.”
“Never know what?” said a voice behind her.
She turned to see Rhys standing in the doorway, exactly where Juana had stood the other day when she’d overheard Daley talking to Pard. She needed to be more careful.
“Howdy, stranger. Just thinking out loud.”
It seemed much longer than four nights ago that they’d had dinner at Mama’s Meatball, but a lot had happened since then.
“About what?”
“Oh, the future. Has Karma Kendrick shown up yet?”
The answer better be no, she thought.
“Not a trace of him.”
(“Looks like he took your warning seriously,”) Pard said.
Let’s hope he keeps on taking it that way.
Daley said, “This makes four days now.”
“Yeah. His buddy Benny is missing as well. I’m thinking something happened to them.”
(“I think that’s a good bet. We can assume Benny is six feet under out in the desert. And Karma is in the wind.”)
Blowing far away, I hope.
“So…started to hunt for a new foreman yet?”
“Sort of. I’m acting the part now and I hate it. As if I don’t already have enough to do. I’m trying to decide whether to hire from the ranks or bring in an outsider. I’d prefer the ranks but sometimes it’s hard for these guys to ride herd on their buddies.”
Daley gestured around at her empty shop. “I don’t think I’ll ever have that problem.”
“Lucky you. Anyway, the reason I stopped by is to see if you’d like to go out to dinner Sunday night. This foreman problem will keep me tied up all week and even into Saturday. How’s Sunday look?”
She smiled. “I’ll make room on my packed schedule.”
“Mama’s for Sunday gravy again?”
“Yeah, sure. You really like that place, don’t you.”
“It’s okay. What I really like is watching you dunk a biscotti in your cappuccino.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to remember that.”
A couple more minutes of small talk and he made his exit, blaming his foreman duties.
(“He is definitely taken by you.”)
I like him too, but you know that. What I’d really like to know is our next step with the horrors.
(“The source…we need to find the source. As I told you: If I could spend some quality time in one of the victims’ brains, I might be able to home in on it.”)
Quality time…that meant more exposure for Daley at a patient’s side.
I don’t know…we got away with it twice. A third time could be pressing our luck.
(“I’ll leave the decision up to you. Not that I have any real choice, but it sounds better if I put like that. I’ll just sit here thinking of those poor victims and how they must be suffering while—”)
All right, all right! We’ll have another go at it tomorrow.
Her only consolation was that if Pard could find the source of the horrors, maybe the plague could be ended without Daley winding up in the spotlight.
29
Used to be, when Karma was living in the double-wide, he’d get up early, scramble up half a dozen eggs alongside some Jimmy Dean sausage patties, and wash the whole mess down with half a quart of coffee. Then he’d hit the weights.
Now, with no double-wide and no weights, Jeffrey tended to skip breakfast—other than the cup Jimmy brought over. But he’d get hungry come midday and head to the Buckshot in Niland for a sandwich.
Usually the only people he’d pass along the way were tourists gawking at Salvation Mountain, but today he came up on a bearded, braided dude in a cowboy hat dragging a Radio Flyer wagon behind him.
“Hey, Jimmy!” he said as he pulled up beside him. “Toss that dinky red wagon in the back and I’ll give you a lift.”
Jimmy kept walking. “Well, I appreciate the offer, man, but I need the exercise.”
“Ten miles is a long walk. You sure?”
“Absolutely. I’m outa Fuegos. Gotta restock.”
“Have it your way,” Jeffrey said with a wave and continued on his way.
He found himself a table off to the side in the Buckshot Deli and Diner. The special of the day was shrimp patties with nopales so he ordered that plus a Bud. Then he opened the Tarzan book Jimmy had given him. He’d started it earlier this morning and was surprised how much he liked it. Nothing like the yodeler in the old movies. Jimmy had given him some line about how it was about “learning who you are and finding your place in the world” or some such shit. Jeffrey didn’t know about any of that. All he knew was the book Tarzan kicked ass and he liked that. Liked that a lot.
He liked the lunch special too. Liked it so much—especially the refried beans and rice that came with it—he ordered a second plate. When he was done he drove up the street to the SoCo for a fill-up, then headed back toward Slab City.
As he was crossing the tracks he saw a little red wagon lying on its side and recognized the guy sitting on the ground next to it.
Jimmy. Shit.
He pulled over and got out.
“Hey, man. What happened?”
Jimmy looked up at him. His left eye was starting to swell—he was on his way to a wicked shiner. “Oh. Hey, Jeffrey. Nothin’ much. Just a little dust up.”
“What kind of dust up? Hit and run?”
“Nah. Little disagreement I been having with this guy.” He spat some blood. “No biggie.”
He looked like he’d gone toe to toe with a couple of Karma’s old biker buddies. If this was what a little disagreement looked like, what happened when it graduated to a big disagreement?
Jeffrey held out his hand. “C’mon. I’ll drive you.”
“That’s all right. I need—”
“Fuck the exercise. Get in the truck. Now.”
Jimmy shrugged, then let Jeffrey pull him to his feet. Weighed damn near nothing. As Jimmy climbed slowly into the passenger seat, Jeffrey laid the wagon on its side in the truck bed.
“You’re too old for this shit, Jimmy,” he said as they got rolling.
“Tell me about it.”
“I’ll take you to the store and—”
“Already been there.”
Been there? The wagon had been empty.
“Didn’t you buy anything?”
“Yeah, but they’re gone now.”
“What? Your Fuegos? So you’re telling me this ‘little dust up’ was really a mugging?”
“Nothing like that. Like I said: a disagreement. Let it go.”
Good advice. Not his problem. Let everybody settle their shit on their own.
“Okay, we’ll go get you some more.”
“Can’t. I bought them all out. All four bags.”
“Well, then, Jimmy, I guess you’re fucked.”
“I guess I am.”
“And what’re you gonna do when you’re jonesing for a Fuego later?”
“I guess I’ll just have to wait until the store gets another shipment. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“Who did this, Jimmy?”
Not that he cared all that much, just curious.
“Nobody. Just a bully. I don’t want no one else involved.”
“I ain’t getting involved. I’m new here. Just want to know who to stay away from.”
The last thing he needed was trouble. The sheriff and his deputies had all had their share of run-ins with Karma Kendrick and Jeffrey didn’t want them or anyone else to know where he was. Jimmy was an okay guy but Jeffrey wasn’t here to solve anyone else’s problems. He had enough of his own. Jimmy would have to deal for himself. Jeffrey just wanted to be left alone.
“Good,” Jimmy said. “Stay away from him. Likes to say he’s a ex-Navy SEAL but someone did some checkin’ and he ain’t. But he’s real mean. Likes to beat on people.”
“Yeah, but who do I stay away from?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. He’ll be pissed if I rat on him and things’ll only get worse. Can we change the subject?”
“Sure. What to?”
Jeffrey had nothing. He’d leave it up to Jimmy.
“Hear about them horrors cures?”
Karma had never listened to the news and neither did Jeffrey—not on TV, not on the radio—but even he had heard about the horrors. Maybe he’d even experienced them when the goddess had shown him what waited for him if she ever saw him again. Just the memory of those few seconds in hell shook him up. He broke out in a sweat.
“You okay?” Jimmy said, looking at him strange.
“Yeah, fine. No, I didn’t hear about no horrors cures. I thought they was permanent like.”
“That’s what everyone thought until this week.”
“Well, that’s great.”
Like he gave a shit.
He pulled up before Jimmy’s camper and lifted the red wagon out of his truck. Jimmy thanked him for the ride and limped inside.
Instead of parking on his slab next door, Jeffrey took a little cruise through Slab City. When he’d first got here Monday, he’d driven up and down the streets looking for a slab to call his own. He hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to the campers and trailers and mobile homes parked willy-nilly throughout the area, but he thought he remembered one that stood out because—
There. Right over the door of that dirty white RV…
And sitting on a lawn chair right in front in cut-off shorts and a tank top was a hairy guy eating from a purple Fuegos bag. Jeffrey told himself to drive on but something inside pushed him to talk to this guy. He got out and sauntered toward him at a relaxed, non-threatening pace.
“Looking for someone?” the guy said.
Jeffrey pointed at the USN logo. “You in the Navy?”
Now that he was close he could see Jake Lugo printed under it.
“Was.” He pointed to a tat on his left delt. “SEAL Team Six.”
“Like on TV?”
Lugo snorted. “Hollywood pussies! I’m retired and I could take ’em all out in sixty secs.”
Sure you could, Jeffrey thought. Might as well get to the point.
“Hey, where you get those Fuegos?”
Lugo’s hand froze as it dipped into the bag. “What’s it to ya?”
“Oh, nothing, just that my neighbor got mugged a little while ago and someone stole his Fuegos.”
Lugo dropped the bag and rose from the chair. “And what? And that little faggot sent you to get them back?”
Jeffrey raised his hands palms out, and backed up a step. “Hey, no. He didn’t tell me who did it. I just happened to be driving by and saw you eating them, so I figured I’d ask.”
“Well, what if they are his? What if I happen to like them and he buys up every bag in the store, and what if I warned him about that? What are you gonna do about it?”
Jeffrey kept his hands up and backed up another step.
Karma wouldn’t care about Jimmy and his stolen Fuegos, but he would never let anyone talk to him like this. By now Karma would have this guy by the back of his neck, smashing his face into the slab his RV sat on. But Jeffrey wasn’t going to fall into that. Jeffrey was all about minding his own business and staying out of trouble.
