Hip Cities and Lost Souls

 

Six

 

email to Al Sullivan

 

 It was not a long climb, but a steep one, up a path Lance had not seen from the road. It weaved between the cracks of stone as if designed for secrecy, narrow enough to make them go single file. Several of the shadowy indians lead the way, and several followed behind. Mike, Chris and Lance like prisoners between.

 It reminded him of patrol, of weeks out in the muck and mire of swamp lands, climbing finally the hills along the Cambodian border, always moving with one eyes to either side. Waiting for the crack of rifle fire or explosions of mortar, each step possible death.

 "What's the matter?" Chris asked, touching his sleeve.

 "Nothing."

 "You look bad."

 "I'm worried about the others."

 "If Dan was smart, he's long gone by now," Mike said, from in front of Lance, huffing as the path took another acute angle up. The air pressed cold and heavy against Lance's chest, too. He didn't seem able to breathe well enough.

 "Watch your step," one of the indians ahead of them said. "Rough ground."

 Stony ground. Like broken teeth under foot, poking through the bottoms of their shoes as they struggled to keep balance. But even touching the rocks on either side shocked them with cold and sharp jabs. Lance wished he had dug his gloves from his knapsack. Or a heavier coat. And just when Lance thought he could go no more, the ground leveled and the path opened out into a gravel-filled space of about twenty yards square.

 "Well," Mike said, leaning on a boulder. "It looks like Dan wasn't very smart at all."

 The van sat at the far edge of the clearing, its headlight illuminating the ruts of a more conventional dirt road up from below. To Lance, the engine sounded worse for the climb. Dan, Sarah and Marie leaned against its dented side.

 "Mikie!" Marie yelped when she caught sight of them, and darted toward them with outstretched arms. "I was so worried," she moaned and hugged him.

 Their indian guards looked impatient, and the man who had brought them up the path, motioned to keep moving.

 "Not here," he said.

 Mike sighed. Lance waited, but Sarah made no similar effort to greet him, remaining where she was by the van till he reached her. She looked bored.

 "Well, well," Dan said. "Fancy meeting you people here. The question is why?"

 "For your safety," the dark indian said.

 "Our safety?" Chris said. "You were supposed to meet us down mountain."

 The indian shook his head. It was hard for Lance to see any of his features for the criss-cross of paint, though even in the side glow of the flashlights, he caught high cheek bones and broad brows, and the black hair framing a sun beaten face.

 "Others are on the road tonight besides the ones you sent away," the indian leader said.

 "You know these people?" Dan asked, pushing up his hat by the floppy brim.

 "They are friends," Chris said, but seemed most interest in the indian's news. "Who else?"

 "The police from what we can gather," the indian said. "At least there are police cars among theirs-- on both sides of the mountain."

 "What?" Mike moaned. "Where?"

 "Along the road by which you would have come down. They seem prepared to stop you once you cross over into Arizona."

 "Damn!" Mike said, slapping the side of the van. "Isn't that just dandy! What the hell do we do now?"

 "There are many roads through our land of which the police know nothing," the indian said.

 "And you'll help us?" Mike asked.

 "For Chris and you," the Indian said, a slow smile rising to his lips. "Oh, don't be surprised. We know who you are, Lost Dog, and of your anger."

                                                                   ***********

 He didn't like or trust them, but he let them lead him up a path deeper into the mountain. The bowie knife Lance had passed back to him, poked through his sleeve. What a knife could do against rifles, he didn't know. Nor did he know exactly what Chris had in mind, diverting them here, but suspected the worst. And he was angry for letting it happen. Her plots generally ended in misfortune.

 "Where are we going?" Mike asked, when the man paused near a small ledge. Beneath them, the gravel square showed like a patch on the side of the mountain, colored only by the splash of the still-illuminated van headlight. Around it showed the vague shapes of Mike's companions, stomping their feet against the cold. Yet, his gaze was drawn beyond them, over the ridge to a cup in the tip of the mountain and a dawn rising over the blue lip of a lake. A lake now frozen over, pine trees encircling it like a wall.

 Wisps of stream came and went with his breathing, coming faster as he began to understand where he was.

 Over the lake, clouds drifted, like giant islands of ice floating on a black sea. Yet, beyond the clouds, lights glowed, the distant fires of albuquerque light the horizon like a rising sun. To the south, other more distant cities glowed. Only the north west were dark, as if the lake would not allow light to flow over it, sucking it down deep into his blackness. But it was the other peaks and the indian lands beyond them which defied the white man's lights, as if the old indian nations still had power to resist.

 "What do you want?" Mike asked, more firmly, afraid to sink too deeply into the vision.

 The man ignored him, leaning on the stone and staring out at the lake. "This is a holy place," he said. "it is a place of watching and of peace. Our ancestors used it for ceremonies in ancient times, before the white man, and for a while even when the white man hunted below. Few outsiders have we allowed to see it."

 "I'm impressed," Mike said, and was, though his tone was bitter. "The question is, why me?"

 The indian leader looked at Mike, the dark eyes like lakes themselves, shimmering with the distant dawn and lights of the cities. There was pain in those eyes, and pride, and a deep bitterness which spread the ache into Mike.

 "You are a legend," the man said. "Tales of your battles with the white man come to us from all directions, the way such things did of warriors in other days."

 "Stop it!" Mike barked, turning away from the eyes and the lake to the cold reality of the stone behind him, his voice echoing like a gunshot down in the valley beneath. "Chris has been filling your head with bullshit. I'm no revolutionary. I'm out of the business of fighting white men, black men, red men or green. All I want to do now is survive. The old wars are over. Our people have proved they can't be won."

 Disappointment flooded the face and eyes of the indian leader. It was a look Mike had seen previously in the eyes of the Weathermen when he ceased his campaign of bank bombings.

 But why, man? they'd asked him. Don't you want to cure imperial oppression of the masses?

 No, he told them. I just want to cure my own pain.

 "You're wrong," the indian leader said, his voice tighter than it had been. "The wars have just begun."

 "Not the wars that count," Mike said, staring down at his own shaking hands. "if you wanted to win you should have killed the white man when he stepped from the boat. Now he's entrenched. Can't you see the lights of his cities?"

 "We see them," the indian said, kneeling before a flat stone. He unrolled a cloth of sticks, removing several. A spark set them to flame. Mike smelled gasoline. "Even now our brothers strike against his forts..."

 "Your brothers. Not mine."

 "There is our blood in you."

 "And the stench of reservation. I won't get trapped in this place the way my mother did."

 "But you're already trapped," the indian said, looking up, the light of the fire catching in his eyes.

 "Bullshit!"

 This time the man looked angry. He stared down into the fire, and when he spoke, his voice had an edge.

 "I can see you're not ready to accept us."

 "Accept you? For what?"

 "Chris said you would lead us."

 "What?" Mike roared. "I ought to... Lead you where? To slaughter?"

 "They slaughter us now in their own way."

 "Slowly," Mike said. "By abandoning you. But make a noise and they shall bring here the full weight of their power, and crush you like every other revolutionary-- like they crushed the Black Panthers up north."

 "We can shoot back," the indian said, his gaze fixed upon the flames, looking every bit the model of the Weathermen and Panthers Mike had seen. Idealistically violent, yet ignorant of the pale-faced monster he intended to challenge.

 Mike groaned and leaned against the rock behind him, looking back out at the horizon. "Look, friend, do what you want. But I'm splitting this scene."

 "Leaving? For where?"

 "For the place where Columbus intended to go. Somewhere across the Pacific where there aren't fifty million warrants hanging over my head."

 "You will change your mind," the indian said flatly. "You must."

 "Like hell I will," Mike barked. "Now are you going to tell us how to get out of here, or do we try and run the cops down when he find them?"

 The indian rose and kicked dirt onto the fire. He pointed northwest into the gloom. "There is a road that way," he said.

 "One they don't know about?"

 "An old miners road," the indian said.

 "Sounds impossible. We've got a VW van not a covered wagon."

 "It's possible-- with care. It will bring you down to the highway beyond where they wait. But do not trust my words completely. Travel at night. Hide the van during the day. All roads will be watched once they discover they've been fooled."

 Mike laughed. "Friend, they have always been watched. Let's get back to the others."

                                                                   ***********

 "You bitch!" Mike said as the van rolled over the lip of the hill and down into a gull. The mountains rose around them like great hands preparing to clap. But they'd done the worst and now everything went down hill, each gully part of steps descending into Arizona, and hopefully beyond the grasp of the police.

 "Stop harping on it," Chris said, seated beside him with a hand-drawn map in her lap. The others slept in the back. "I said I was sorry, didn't I?"

 "Sorry isn't enough," he said. It was already less dark outside, dawn catching up with them in the lower lands, glowing against the fore-ground of mountain peaks. Mike stepped on the gas a little harder. "You're trying to get me wrapped up in something and I won't have it."

 "You owe something to your people, Michael," Chris said.

 "I'm half Irish," Mike spat. "Does that mean I should go and fight for the IRA?"

 "That's different and you know it."

 "I don't see it that way," Chris said.

 "And you don't read the papers either. The revolution's fizzling out. Kids are going home. The FBI's killing the leaders."

 "Not our leaders."

 "Oh brother!" Mike moaned. "Now you're going to start singing me the praises of Indian solidarity? I'll bet they've already been infiltrated."

 "You wouldn't be riding away if they were," Chris said.

 "Maybe," he conceded. "But the reason your brothers are condemned to reseverations is because of other indians, indians the white man's converted, indians who sold their souls helping the white man hunt and kill us. Those are the people you expect me to lead?"

 Chris stayed silent.

 Mike cursed and shifted gears for another round of rising land, the last before open and ground and heart land of Arizona.

                                                                   ***********

 They came into Phoenix with early dawn, a warm, dry dawn that stank of citrus groves and car exhaust, though traffic on the highway was thin, mostly pickups and interstate truckers speeding through.

 Lance woke to the sticking gears and Mike's cursing.

 "Problems?" Lance asked, poking his head through the curtain. Chris leaned against the passenger door, snoring slightly, her brown face smooth in the growing light, almost pretty. Dan grumbled from the rear and made his appearance, wincing at the highway.

 "Oh God! Not this place again," he moaned. But there was a hint of cheer in his voice, drawing a curious glance from Mike.

 "You don't sound all that displeased."

 "I am. But it is home, sort of," Dan said. "You ready for me to take the wheel?"

 "No, we can't keep driving in daylight," Mike said. "We should find a place to park. We all need rest."

 "There's a twenty four hour diner up ahead a bit," Dan said, squinting out at the scenery. "And a lot behind it nobody uses."

 "Out of sight?"

 "As much as anything can be in this town," Dan said, lighting a cigarette, wincing at that, too. "There it is."

 The van bumped over the lip of the roadway and into a gravel drive, stones banging the bottom as Mike steered the machine around the back. Low citrus trees formed a fence along the far end and Mike parked the car behind these. He turned off the engine.

 "I'll sleep here," he said, slumping down in the front seat like a bookend to Chris.

 Dan sagged against the side door, but looked far from sleep.

 "Aren't you going to crash out?" Lance asked, feeling the sudden stillness, and that much wearier because of it, as if he hadn't really slept at all during the trip.

 "In a minute," Dan said and sucked the cigarette again. "I just want to sit and breathe. This is supposed to be healthy air."

 But he seemed to be thinking and Lance left him, returning to the two sprawled bodies on the bed. Sarah sprawled to the right; Marie curled in a fetal position to the left. He found space between them and drifted off.

                                                                   ***********

 Someone shook him. Hot air pressed into his face like a hand trying to smother him. Cigarette smoke filled in interior of the van. Chris' angry face floated over his.

 "You're on my bag," she said, dragging it out from under his head, glancing at it as if he could have caused it damage.

 "Sorry," Lance mumbled. He remembered tossing and turning with the rising heat and yanking something cool from the pile of packages.

 "Forget it," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Her hair dripped, down the tangled strands.

 Someone had opened the side doors and the windows on either side of the driver's seat. Mike and Marie huddled just inside, perched and wary, watching the rumbling trucks through the trees. Tractor trailers speeding along the highway, rocking the land beneath them.

 Lance struggled out and stretched. But the air outside the van felt just as warm, a precursor to coming Summer when the temperatures would rise into a daily ritual of over a hundred. In the north, a low line of mountains showed like the grey teeth of a wolf grinning, made hazy by the distance. He had seen them before on his first journey west, closer up, nearer the Painted Desert they bordered. They were farther than they looked, and higher, though none showed any signs of a snow cap. Too hot for that. Even had their elevation.

 An odd deja vu struck him.

 He sucked in the warm air. It felt fresh in his lungs despite the heat. It was the smell, the perfume of growing things, citrus groves making him want to take a bite out of the air.

 "Okay," Dan said, booted foot hooked onto the splintering front bumper, one hand holding down his hat against the wind. "We're here. Now what?"

 "We make connections," Mike said. "There's a man named Gil who runs the underground here. You should know him. You spent time here."

 "I've heard of him," Dan said. "Not many people actually meet him."

 "But you'd know how to get in touch with him?"

 "You mean you don't?"

 "I can't show my face around this town," Mike said. "They know me here. By sight."

 "Which means?"

 "You, the Pacifist and his old lady'll have to make the connections while the rest of us make scarce."

 "Wait a minute!" Chris said. "I'm not wanted in this state. Why should I duck out of sight."

 "Because you could draw attention to me," Mike snapped. "Some cops still think we run together and if they see you, they'll start searching. You'll stay low until we talk to Gil, and then you can go on your way."

 "Lay low where?" Chris asked. "If Dan's got the van."

 "There's a motel up the road," Sarah said, looking particularly uncomfortable in the heat.

 Mike shook his head.

 "They wouldn't let us in without a car. Just drop us downtown. We'll get lost. We can meet up you later near the square."

 Dan nodded, eyeing Mike, Marie and Chris with a certain obvious humor, as if their union had its own odd irony to it. "Just like the old days," he said with a grin.

 "Not quite," Mike said sourly. "Let's get on with this thing."

 The others climbed back into the van. Dan started the engine. But Lance lingered, staring out at the sandy world.

 "Lance," Sarah called, as if reading his thought from his expression. "Get in."

                                                                   ***********

 Dan downshifted for the light-- the flat unbearable city of boredom steaming with heat and old men waiting for death, haunted men with golf hats and bland expression, slumped onto bus stop benches, eyeing the van as if part of their recreation. Men too old and tired to hate hippies, shaking their heads at Dan's early retirement, asking with shock: You mean you made no money at all on Wall Street? As if the crime had not been the disease but Dan's inability to make new capital.

 Money had always been the key to Dan's life, starting with his impoverish shoe-making farther in Brooklyn who'd scrimped and saved to get Dan through Hofstra saying: You gotta succeed, boy. You can't get trapped in this place like me. The unspoken agreement being Dan would care for the man later, coddling him in his own age, while other merchants from his generation begged on the street like bums, too weak to keep up the work schedule to pay the rising rents.

 This here's my boy! the old man bragged, brandishing Dan before them like a piece of gold. The boy would make up for killing his wife during child birth, or costing so much in worry over early life in the streets. With Punk and gangster the most often descriptions.

 Yet no blow seemed so hard on the old man as when Dan brought Susie home. You want to marry her? the old man had howled, hating everything about her from her blond hair to her untrustworthy smile. A gold digger, he called her. Only much later did Dan agree. Only after the coughing started and the doctor's reports said Dan needed dry air. And the uptown life vanished to one of dessert and divorce. The alimony based on Dan's former income evaporated his savings, killing the old man-- who neighbors said wandered through the neighborhood for weeks like a bum, with even his shoes bits of crumbling leather he refused to remove or repair. The police found the body frozen under the Brooklyn Heights side of the Manhattan bridge, clutching a faded photograph of Dan's mother.

 He shivered and shifted gears as the light changed to green, the vague pattern of streets flowing back into his head, shopping malls and retirement villages dotting either side of the road, part of the stretched out nature of the town which reminded him of L.A.

 "There's a cop behind us," Lance announced, laying flat on the bed with his nose to the rear window.

 "Of course there is," Dan mumbled. "Get out your ID."

 Lance slipped forward. Sarah stared back into the crumbled mirror on the passenger side. "You mean they're going to stop us?" she asked.

 "Yes," Dan said, watching the car pulling closer. "They don't like hippies in this town."

 Yet it was more than just hippies, they hated strangers of any kind or color. They endured the indians because they'd grown used to them under foot, and knew where in the pecking order red skins belonged.

 The cop car made its move, pulling up in the left lane, one of its two officers motioning them to the shoulder. Stones kicked up under the van as it stopped and the cop car doors slammed as its officers exited. Two sandy-skinned males came along either side of the van, pushing up their Texas-Ranger hats in a slow imitation of a cowboy drama.

 "So it is you," the cop on Dan's side said, his face part of that miserable time when Dan was last here. "Billy said it was. But I didn't believe him. What would old cool Dan be doing back in our town, especially riding a junk like this. But there you are, boy, big as life."

 "Don't give me a hard time, Sweeny," Dan said. "We're just passing through back to L.A."

 The cop leaned against the door. A slow grin spread across his sun-beaten face. "I seem to recall a bulletin on you, Newhaul," the cop said. "Something about alimony."

 "Damn it, Sweeny!" Dan moaned. "Nobody's asking for trouble here."

 He wondered how far he could get if he chose to run. But the other cop showed up on the passenger side.

 "What happened over here?" he asked. "You been in an accident?"

 "Side-swiped while I was parked," Dan said.

 "By a goddamn tractor from the look of it."

 "Must have been," Dan agreed. Look straight. Don't act scared. "Happened in Denver."

 "Run it anyway," Sweeny said, grinning at Dan. "Wouldn't want you to pull anything over on us, would we Newhaul?"

 "How long's this going to take, Sweeny?" Dan asked with a groan.

 "It depends, Danny-boy."

 "On whether or not you're carrying any drugs in there. Why don't you and your friends step out of there while we have a look."

 Dan sighed and motioned the others out. Sweeny circled around and admired Sarah as she climbed out.

 "Your taste in women has improved," the cop said.

 "She's his," Dan said, lighting up a cigarette. His hands shook. Half out of anger.

 Sarah smiled as the other cop came back from the police car looking rather puzzled.

 "What is it?" Sweeny asked.

 "No warrant," the other cop said. "But there's an APB"

 Sweeny looked sharply at Dan. "Just passing through, eh?"

 "There's something else," the other cop said, motioning Sweeny away from Dan. The two exchanged words, growing animate and loud.

 "What is it?" whispered Lance.

 "Damned if I know," Dan said, though he heard Sweeny say New Mexico once. But nothing about his ex-wife, though he could already envision the trip back east in handcuffs and his wife's hard stare across a court room.

 He felt stupid. They all should have been more careful, rather than merely worrying about Mike. Somehow they could have found Gil without the parade through town.

 "All right, Newhaul," Sweeny said, his voice losing its edge. "Get out of here."

 Dan looked up startled. "What?"

 "Didn't you hear me, Goddamn it! I said get! Or do you want to spend the day in a jail cell?"

 The cop didn't look happy, a nasty touch to his glare which translated into anger and danger.

 "Come on," Dan said to the others. "Let's not argue with the man."

 Yet once started again, he saw the cop still standing on the side of the road, staring helplessly after them, his thoughts loud enough to kill.

 Dan gunned the gas.


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