Shall We Gather At The River

 Only half of this story is true. The other part? Well, let’s just say it has been “enhanced for your listening pleasure “

It is a sordid tale of graveyards disturbed by teenagers in the dead of night and the re-animation of things long considered gone from this world.

Let us begin

 Teenagers…1971…graduated and rudderless for the Summer until moving on to college in the Fall. Jay and Rick contemplated how to fill the hours of those sultry summer nights in the small town of Slidell. Not backwoods small mind you, just boring small. The sky was wide open with nothing to do and nowhere to be. What to do… what to do indeed. 

   On that one particular weekend the two boys settled on cruising the boulevards… Gause and Pontchartrain, the main drags for teenage angst to erupt. Soda shops, drive-ins, pizza parlors and burger joints. Convenient locations down the strip for teen drama to play out. Jay picked up Rick in his car just as  dusk took its full hold on upon the night and then suggested that they pass by the Frostop to see who was there from their high school group.  As the saying goes, “every party needs an angel” and Jay reasoned that maybe they could find one or two girls among the familiar faces in attendance there.  Chicks, babes, skirts… they immediately change the dynamic of a boy’s night out. Something about the presence of a female… a cute female …sitting between two guys in the front seat, that triggers the male ego to attempt to impress or ,dare I say, entertain the girl. What could they offer her that would create an air of mystery for the evening to come. In hindsight I suppose the boys could blame the whole thing on her… Paula… the “Angel” in the car…the random inclusion in the mix…the good girl, kind and sweet, who had no business participating in what would soon be proposed…  blame her for the bad decision they eventually made that night. She could be their alibi.

 There’s another old saying that seems appropriate here. “An idle mind is the devil’s playground.” That really sums up that night in a nutshell. Teenagers not thinking things through and instead choosing the bad thing for lack of a better alternative.

   And so the three of them Jay, Paula and Rick set out to create some excitement for themselves in the small Southern town of Slidell on that obscure date in 1971. I should interject here that the aforementioned excitement did not include alcohol or anyone making out or getting naked with one another. At least not on this night. Paula made that very clear before scooting across the front seat of Jay’s car. She was not interested in making out with either of the two of them. So the rules were set and the boundaries were defined, and Jay and Rick’s egos were conspicuously bruised. Both boys realized at that moment that each one would have stood a better chance if alcohol had been procured and the other had not been included at all.

As I said previously, Paula was a good girl. 

The town of Slidell had more than its share of forbidden places to go after dark. Maybe not so forbidden but foreboding to be sure. Secluded places, shadowy places ,roads that led to nowhere and dilapidated buildings that reeked of bad vibes. And of course cemeteries. Places where teens go to achieve privacy and intimacy and to raise spirits who dwell in the dark hiding behind headstones.  Places where urban legends reside.

  One such place was Pony Ranch Road on the outskirts of town.,Not only was it a great place to “park and misbehave” but it was also the dark, brooding, lonely road that led to Haas-wood Cemetery.. This particular graveyard was said to be the final resting place for the formerly local scary monster known as OnionHead. He was in fact a poor misshapen soul unfairly accused by others for the disappearance of a child. And so “history” said he was the victim of angry mob violence. Pieces  of his ravaged corpse purportedly sprinkled and scattered about the graves of  other tenants and of course cursing the very grounds themselves in the process. So the legend says, but did any one of the three on this night really believe it? For the sake of an adrenaline rush on a sleepy weekend perhaps they told themselves they did. Having decided to visit the spooky graveyard and attempt to locate the headstone of OnionHead , Jay started driving to the outskirts of town, with the radio blaring “It’s Too Late” by Carole King, to Pony Ranch Road and to the scene of the eventual crime that would take place at the cemetery by the three “juveniles in training.” Driving down the length of Pony Ranch Road in the dead of night produced a feeling of uncertainty and regret that only increased as they reached the clearing where the graveyard gate stood. One could liken it to the feeling of arriving at the front door of an arranged blind date. It seemed like a good idea before hand, but now one had the urge to turn tail and run. The three exited the car and began moving slowly toward the gate and grounds beyond, looking somewhat like The Three Stooges in a haunted house. Comically cautious with trepidation. 

To say the cemetery was poorly tended was a kind assessment. It had all the charm of a Potter’s field neglected past  the point of saving. Among the mounds and headstones , weeds and overgrowth had infringed upon the individual graves while fungus and mold and wild mushrooms grew into the stones themselves. Jay, Paula and Rick waded through the overgrowth , clutching one another’s hand or shoulder like the Scooby Doo gang tracking an illusive ghost, looking for the one stone belonging to the mythical monster.  This would be the scene of the crime, albeit a small one. Find the headstone and load it into the trunk of the car and escape with the morbid prize.

   Unfortunately finding the proper stone wasn’t so easy. Frankly, who would put the name “OnionHead” on a tombstone? None of the three had any idea what his real name had been so when a single headstone was found with no name engraved , they all decided that it would do. The inscription on the stone simply read, “Shall We Gather At The River.” A cryptic message barely legible beneath the dirt and mold and the spongy brown mushroom fungus attached to it. Paula was quick to identify the inscription as words to a church hymn that she herself had sung. She watched while Jay and Rick struggled to place the heavy stone in the trunk and thereby completing the task and the mission. It wasn’t exactly grave robbing, but it was close, and one thought remained in each of their minds as they drove slowly back down Pony Ranch Road and back into town with their prize. But to what end, they each thought now and in the aftermath of the deed a kind of bubble of guilt engulfed the car as they eventually arrived back in town to savor their “bravery” in completing the deed.

   What if the curse was real and what would be the price they each would pay? In reality probably nothing. Teenagers don't really believe in curses

and in the light of day Jay, Paula and Rick were no different. But all three recognized criminal mischief and so it was decided that they would return it to the graveyard.

   Maybe it was that bubble of guilt  that alerted the police to stop them once they rolled back onto the boulevard with the damning evidence in the trunk. Or maybe, and more likely, it was the cloud of dust gushing from the trunk leaving a kind of smoky wake behind the car, not unlike a mosquito fogging truck. 

   The boulevard was teeming with activity by now. A cavalcade of street lights and cruising cars and teenagers hanging out in the nighttime air. As luck would have it, Police officer Ray Bennett was patrolling the boulevard and witnessed the curious sight as Jay, Paula and Rick maneuvered down the busy street and into the parking lot of the Frostop unaware of the dust cloud trailing behind them.  Initially, Officer Bennett thought something in the trunk of the car was on fire and so he was compelled to investigate for obvious reasons. He followed the three as they pulled in and, before stopping, he chuckled to himself as he watched them hastily jump out of the car. He assumed that it was only when they stopped that they realized what had been happening behind them. In short, they had managed to spread the dust a considerable length down the boulevard, engulfing dozens and dozens of teenage bystanders and adults alike, covering them with a light blanket of the substance.

   In a state of confusion they opened the trunk to see what had happened and it was then they realized the strange transformation that had occurred. The purloined headstone was still inside but the attached mushroom had increased in size significantly and was now a large orange-brown pulsating mushroom mass apparently spewing forth an endless stream of fungal spores and releasing them into the air. 

  “What the hell is that?”, Jay shouted out to Paula and Rick who were equally perplexed.

  “Holy shit, is that thing alive?”, Rick said in a low inquisitive tone. “But how?”

  “You guys need to get away from that thing. That stuff could be poisonous “ Paula calmly suggested.”We should have never  disturbed the grave. If I believed in curses I would think this thing maybe it. What have we unleashed on the town? Even worse, what am I going to tell my parents!”

  “We’ve got to do something.”Jay declared. Something before the cops show up.”

  But the words were barely out of his mouth when Officer Bennett appeared on the scene slowly ambling toward them. 

 “Oh shit, the jig is up.” Rick said dejectedly. “What were we thinking?”

  

  Officer Bennett walked over and inspected the contents of Jay’s trunk and was relieved that there was no fire, but then the questions started amid the awkwardness of the moment.

 “You kids have something you need to tell me ?  ‘Cause if you don’t I’m likely to think the worst about this whole situation. This is your car, isn’t it Jay?

  Jay answered nervously but resisted the urge to tell the truth entirely.    

    “Actually , we were just on our way to return something and we ran into a teensy bit of trouble, Sorry about the dust but I think we have things under control now.”

  Raymond remained skeptical. “ So, how about it Rick, do you have anything  to add to that. Can you tell me why you three felt the need to “crop dust” the boulevard tonight?”

  Rick hesitated with an evasive response. “That was kind of an accident, we were just hangin…”

  Raymond interrupted in mid sentence.

  “I take it you’re the princess of the party tonight Paula. Anything you need to tell me? Let’s start with this.”

Raymond shined his flashlight beam into the trunk. “ Can anyone of you tell me what on God’s green earth is that?”

  Paula stayed true to character and spilled her guts to Raymond about the whole sordid plan. After all, she was a good girl.

 “We stole the headstone on Onionhead’s grave and it turned into a giant mushroom and now we think it has a curse or something on it. That’s it. Can you please help us , because I can’t get arrested. My mom will kill me.”

  “Yep, that just about covers it. And ditto for me about the mom thing.”

Jay seemed relieved by the admission now.

 Raymond said nothing while processing the situation and moved closer to the massive mushroom blob and noticed it was no longer emitting the dust. “Hmm, seems okay now but it’s still moving a little. That’s odd.” He paused for a moment and gave his verdict. “Okay, here’s what I think. You three get back to Haas-wood, drop this thing back where you found it and that will be the end of it.”

  “But what about the curse?” Paula blurted out. “There’s got to be a reason that thing was shooting out that dust. Mushrooms release spores into the wind and sometimes they’re poisonous and even deadly. That might be what the curse is.”

  Rick had been listening to the conversation taking place, and was impressed with Paula’s knowledge of mushrooms, but he was also observing the crowds forming in the street on the boulevard and they were behaving strangely. “Hey guys, maybe you should all stop talking and look at this crazy shit going down. That dust… that mushroom dust … it’s like it’s turning everyone into zombies. Take a look!”

   And sure enough Rick had called it right. Everybody turned around and looked down the street at the crowd forming in the middle of the road. shuffling around aimlessly at first, shoulders slumped, and faces devoid of emotion as if in some kind of collective trance.

Eventually the massive group began to move in unison and they began walking slowly down the boulevard as if following instructions from some unseen force. They walked down the street moving southbound out of town.

  “Okay things just got weird. This changes the situation drastically.” Officer Bennett declared. 

  “If they’re zombies now. does that mean they’re dead and does that make us murderers?” Rick yelled. “ Oh shit, we can’t fix this! We’re in too deep now.”

  “Raymond , you’re gonna have to shoot ‘em all so they stay dead, right?

That’s our only option at this point.” Jay calmly reasoned.

  “Just hold on a minute Jay! I’m not going to shoot a bunch of people because I think they might me zombies.

That’s crazy. And besides I don’t think they’re actually real zombies.” Raymond declared. 

  Paula finally chimed in with a suggestion. “This is all connected to the headstone in some way. Maybe it’s controlling them with its mushroom dust… you know, like in that movie. The spores turned them into mindless slaves but they weren’t dead.”

  Rick sounded relieved. “ So we’re not killers then, but what are they doing?

Where are they going?”

  Raymond speculated., “ Looks like they could be headed out of town to Rats Nest Road maybe … the docks and piers by the lake.” Raymond paused a moment analyzing all the facts so far. “ Wait a second, Paula , what does that inscription say on the stone… something about a river?”

  “ It’s says , shall we gather at the river, I told you all , it’s lyrics to a hymn.” Paula answered.

  Jay suddenly had a moment of clarity.

“But what if it isn’t lyrics, what if it’s like a hypnotic command. The headstone controls the mushroom and the mushroom controls the people.”

  Raymond listened to Jay and put the final pieces together.  “ Look , I don’t much believe in curses , but if what you’re saying is true, it could be that all these teenagers are headed to the lake which is connected to the Mississippi River. This whole thing … the curse is OnionHead’s  revenge on the townspeople who wrongly accused and then killed him.  These kids and everybody else who breathed in the dust…they’re headed to the nearest body of water… but why?”

  Jay responded quickly. “Well, I don’t think it’s for a beach party. All we know about OnionHead tells me that he wants them dead.”

 “Oh my God, the mushroom is telling them to go jump in the lake and drown.”

Paula exclaimed. “That’s diabolical.”

 “But what can we do now? How can we stop them?” Rick asked.

  The hour was late on that certain summer night in 1971 when Jay, Paula and Rick  reawakened the curse of OnionHead and caused havoc on the streets of the otherwise sleepy town of Slidell. With the help of Officer Bennett, the three resolved to destroy the mushroom and the stone by sending it to the bottom of the Lake and hopefully killing it for good before the horde of zombies could make it to the lake on foot themselves. It was a gamble. Their last resort. 

  The three climbed into the front seat of Jay’s car and sped off into the night headed to the piers and docks along the bank of Lake Ponchartrain. They maneuvered past the crowd in the street and Jay put his foot to floor as they raced ahead to hopefully save the town from the fateful curse that waited for them all.

The End

  

Sent from my iPhone

ReplyForward Add reaction

Jack the Giant Killer Chapter 3

  In a world where curses and amulets and mythical creatures exist, rules of engagement must be modified by necessity. Jack spent his sleeping hours wandering aimlessly in a dreamscape of his own construction fighting a faceless adversary in a hazy fog of slumber.

 

  The next morning Jack drove to the designated point of attack, accompanied by Chitto and Maska, and he parked the Caddy with trailer in-tow on the summit of two converging canyons and Chitto and Maska opened up the trailer to release the horses and saddle them up for the trip.

“Hmm, Looks like some rain coming over the northern hills.” Jack remarked with concern in his voice. “Guess it comes with job,” he added.

 Following instructions from Chitto and Maska, Jack rode up into the mountains navigating the winding roads overlooking the deep canyons both beautiful and foreboding. The view was spoiled by the rain and of course the mission too. There is no good day for killing giants and Jack felt that. A beautiful morning would be marred by the task and a bleak morning was all the more bleak because of it.

The wind and rain increased and visibility was poor. Raindrops pelted his skin like pesky insects bent on further testing his resolve. Just the kind of conditions one doesn't want when navigating down into the canyon and into the belly of the beast. The twists and turns on perilously narrow ledges passing around striated rock and stone eventually led to the cave opening wherein the Giant dwelled. Several yards away the large orifice in the canyon wall came into view.

 “The monster spends its time sleeping then eating. It normally does not venture far from the cave where it lives except for hunting food.”

 “Tito, I gotta give mad props to your mom for making this trip when she did. This ain't no cakewalk. This is some kind of treacherous terrain for anybody to tackle."

All three secured their weapons strapping them to their backs and saddlebags and then mounting their horses. Jack stopped and held the reins tightly as he sensed Banjo was nervous. “You feeling okay, fella? Do you see something...” But Jack wasn’t prepared for the reaction to come.

Banjo, Poncho and Cisco all became restless, sensing danger. Chitto and Maska quickly dismounted from their horses while Jack remained on his. Suddenly out of the sheets of rain and mist emerged a colossal figure that stared down at the three intruders and gave out a growl as powerful and as loud as a mastodon on a rampage.

The horses suddenly reared up and whinnied nervously, startled by the immense creature and this sent Jack sprawling backwards off Banjo and onto the muddied ledge. 

“It’s him Jack. The Maccapitew!” Chitto warned.

“We need to take cover around this next bend.” Maska added. “ Go now before it sees us.!”

 Jack was somewhat dazed by the sudden unexpected appearance of the thing that he had come to kill ,but at this precise moment he was initially in awe of the size of it.

“Holy shit Marco. Did you see the size of that thing? Why ... it’s got to be 30 feet tall!

No way man!” Jack exclaimed as he ran following Chitto and Maska around the bend. 

“Wait we must go back for the horses” Maska pleaded. “ I will calm them so they don’t give us away.”

“No,” Chitto insisted. “It’s too late. Its already seen us and them. We should lay low till it passes.”

“ Man, did you see the hammer that thing was swinging.” Jack replied dumbfounded.

“Hammer? We do not understand.” Maska answered.

 “You know , it’s junk . Geez, would it kill him to wear some boxers? Way to make a guy feel inadequate. Chitto and Maska, let me just say, I’m not the kind of guy that talks about somebody else’s mother but honestly your mom really dropped the ball on this one. She really screwed up dudes! It would have been so simple just to bash it on the head and bury it when it was toddler size. Now it’s like a Godzilla problem.!”

 Chitto responded quietly. “No offense to you Jack but Godzilla was way bigger than the Maccapitew. Most estimates say Godzilla was anywhere between 160 feet to 330 feet tall, and always bigger than King Kong.”

  "Excuse me," Maska interrupted. " Actually more recent versions of King Kong and Godzilla show them both at about 393 feet so that their battles between one another would appear more evenly matched."

  Chitto responded annoyed. " Oh really? I missed that. Thanks for bringing me up to date."

  Jack replied. “ First off, how do you even know that? And secondly, what is your point? Bottom line, this thing would have been a lot easier to kill when it was only 3 feet long.”

 Chitto answered impatiently. “ Criticizing our mother serves no purpose now. You forget this mission was prophesied by the Great Spirit. Must we again remind you who you are? Maybe you would prefer to travel back in time and fix this there. Surely your Caddy can do that ,Jack Dangerfield. However you choose to fix this, Maska and I will follow you.”

“ No, Dangerfield doesn’t use a machine to...wait a minute, first of all , you said it was maybe 10 feet tall, but this guy.....He's gotta be at least 30 feet tall. You lied to me, man. You left out important information... stuff I needed to know. We have to go back and re-group. Think, is there anything else? I mean does he breathe fire or shoot lightning bolts out of his ass?” Jack queried 

"Hmm, well we did mention the cannibalism, right?" Chitto answered.

" Yeah, I guess if you're a cannibal the double set of teeth would come in handy. Thanks for that." 

"Hey, that thing just swallowed Cisco and Poncho." Maska lamented. “And Banjo...his sacrifice was equally significant."

"Yes, yes of course Banjo too" Jack said in an apologetic way. “We shared a short ride but it was meaningful for the both of us. Besides we don't know if he ate them, they could be alright. Don't assume the worst." Jack responded with little effort to hide his sarcasm.

Jack began pacing back and forth in his usual problem solving mode. " Okay, its obvious to me that I have grossly underestimated the situation that we are dealing with here. What we need is a carefully thought out plan of attack... there's no room for error."

  Chitto paused thoughtfully and suggested. "Earlier you said something about some nut sacks you brought with us in your time machine. I thought that was part of your plan."

  Jack seemed a little embarrassed. " Yeah, about that...my original plan involved scorpions in nut sacks and a catapult. But time is short...how long would it take to wrangle 6,000 venomous scorpions in 20 nut sacks? I can tell you already...too damn long! There's got to be another way, Chango!"

  "Thats Chitto, Jack." he replied in frustration. " How about this? Horse tranquilizers shot at close range. We have an ample supply in the trunk of your time machine. If we use enough of those , we might even kill it." 

  " Yes, yes...that might work. Tranquilizer arrows, triangulated attack to maximize the outcome. Sound thinking, Mango." Jack began to pace again.

  " That's Maska, sir. And in case you forgot, there's the amulet. Ayana made sure that I brought it. Its here in my pocket."

  "Say what? the amulet?" Jack said puzzled.

  "Yes, ...the priceless stone... remember Chitto mentioned it in Chapter One when we first met? Sacred to our tribe? I can't believe you don't remember that." Maska declared.

Jack stood silent for a moment processing the new information and then spoke.

  "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You two find the horses, then gather up the weapons and put them all in the trunk. Give me the amulet and anything else you may have in your saddlebags and ..."

  "Put it in the trunk?" Chitto chimed in.

  "Exactly. Right now, I'm taking you guys back to the compound."

  "What?" they declared in disbelief.

  "No arguments. I never should have involved you. This is my fight. My destiny," Jack stated emphatically. "Load up the trailer. I'm dropping you off and coming back alone."

  "Don't get me wrong Jack, that was a nice speech...was that from Star Wars? Chitto inquired. “No matter. Maska and I didn't ride out here all this way just to sit in the car. Destiny withstanding, you need us. Both of us are good with a bow, a gun or a knife if need be. Let's pack up what we need and get to it. maybe we can be home for dinner."

  Jack knew he was right but still he didn't want Chitto and Maska to be hurt in the process.

" You realize that if either of you two get hurt or killed, Ayana would never forgive me and frankly I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. This is my fight but I do see your point and besides, somebody's got to tell me what to do with this amulet thing."

  Maska spoke up." Ayana just said to give it to you and guard it with your life. She said you would know what to do with it when the time came."

  "Does it give me special powers...super strength...Anything like that?"

  "It is a sapphire stone given to Ayana several years ago by a stranger who entrusted it to our sister for safe keeping. He stayed with Ayana for a time and they grew very close." Maska explained. "He used to say this one thing all the time, "Character is Destiny."

 "Oh, wait a minute." Jack interjected." The owner of the guitar in her studio...that’s the guy?"

 "Yes.. and its funny in a way. He was much like you but a little older...and probably wiser too.." Maska replied. "But anyway, Ayana says it is a key that will unlock a great mystery for you. That’s all she told me."

  "Really...your sister gives me way too much credit." Jack admitted." And it also sounds like she knows more than she's telling."

  "Well, Jack you're supposed to be the Enkoodabaoo. ." Chitto argued. "We should run with that."

  "Yes, yes...thanks for reminding me. Okay, lets get our gear from the caddy and don't forget to unhitch the trailer in the process. We may need to make a fast escape. I just hope this rain lets up soon."

   The rain subsided after an hour or two finally allowing the trio of giant killers to descend into the lair of their king size prey carrying all the gear they anticipated they would need for discovery and capture. Although the rain had ceased, the earlier deluge had left the rocky terrain slippery and treacherous. As they approached the entrance of the cave Jack couldn't ignore the noxious odor emanating from the entrance as they moved closer.

 "Wow, do all caves smell this bad?" Jack questioned.

Chitto spoke up." No, actually most caves have a nice earthy pleasant-smelling air supply, but this one here is a bat cave. It isn't the bats themselves that smell bad though, it's the tons of bat shit on the cave floor. The good news is that the bats nest near the opening so it won't be so bad once we get inside,"

“I think it would be smarter to make him come to us.” Jack said smiling.” Smoke, courtesy of my local army surplus store. America is a great place to live.” And with that Jack hurled three canisters deep into the cave opening.and watched the smoky fog disperse. “ Now we wait!” Jack declared confidently. Maska and Chitto had no choice but to agree to sit and wait now.

 But the expectation was premature because the Giant in question emerged immediately in an agitated state and marched boldly past them apparently unaware that they lie in wait.

 "Oh shit, change of plans . Maska, Chitto, Lets triangulate and follow ...I'll give the signal when to shoot when it stops and we're all in position. Maska you take the ankle. Chitto you take the hip and I'll target the neck. Let's hit it. I think its spotted the Caddy. We take it down before it destroys everything.

 The three moved quickly but the slippery rocks were a hindrance. Jack marveled at how agile the two brothers were as they navigated swiftly to the plateau where Jack's Caddy was parked. They took strategic positions and waited for Jack to catch up. As he struggled to make it, he thought back to Ayana's words, "destiny...its all about destiny." he told himself. "but how?"

  Previously in Jack's life, he had spent many hours trying to rebound from ill-conceived plans when things didn't go his way but despite his prior misgivings about taking on a giant, today, with the help of Maska and Chitto, everything would finally play out in his favor. Once in place, Jack gave the order to shoot and miraculously everyone hit their mark and the giant went down with incredible ease like a drunk on a Saturday night. Jack seemed stunned for a moment as Maska and Chitto gathered round to survey their victory. "Thats it? We're done? That was too easy. We have to make sure he stays down. He may not be dead.” Jack said.

The three secured the giant to the winch on the Caddy and Jack placed a large stone onto the gas pedal, steered the car toward the canyon precipice and started the engine. With one final look at his prized sweet ride, Jack slipped it into gear and watched as the Caddy and its cargo careened over the cliff in a long suicide dive into the river. The giant woke up briefly in midair before finally plunging to his death below. The deed was done.

  “That was a great idea ,Jack.” Chitto declared,”but how do we get home now?”

Jack paused momentarily realizing the consequence of his hasty decision.

 “Hmmm, good point. I can't believe I didn't think that through. Where’s Maska, we’ve got to find those horses.”

  Fortunately Poncho, Cisco and Banjo weren’t lost, the horses were alive and well, and so Jack, Maska and Chitto set out for the compound to relate the outcome of their hunt to Ayana. But before leaving Jack made his way into the cave alone to try and piece together the significance of the amulet.

After several minutes Jack re-appeared at the entrance of the cave, with his lantern in one hand and the sapphire amulet in the other, having finished his investigation and subsequently having his eyes opened wide to the truth. It was more than he had ever hoped for. He realized now that the quest was not ,and never had been, about the giant.

It was more… much, much more.

  The following morning Jack and Ayana set out on horseback to re-visit the cave. The rain had moved on from the day before and on this day the sun was shining brightly as if giving its approval for all that had occurred. Jack and Ayana rode side by side in a slow gait down into the canyon and toward the cave entrance, Jack on Banjo and Ayana on Vixen navigating the perilous curves.

 “You know, if I stuck to it, I might actually learn to ride Banjo as well as you ride Vixen.” Jack speculated.

 “Well, I’ve been riding since I was a young girl, but if a horse likes the rider, it will go easy on him and Banjo likes you well enough from before.” Ayana answered.

 “From before? You think in just the short time I’ve been here that Banjo recognizes me?”

 Ayana hesitated . “Jack, there are some things we need to talk about before you leave…things that will help you understand.”

 “What… about Banjo?” Jack seemed a little puzzled. “Let me stop you there Ayana, there’s a lot I need to tell you too. The Maccapitew was not the baby your mother abandoned in the cave those years ago. I saw the body wrapped in a baby’s blanket… at least what was left of it. The giant was from somewhere else … from some other place. When we get to the cave I’ll show you everything you need to know and then maybe you’ll tell me who this stranger was that you were involved with and who gave you this amulet that is so sacred to your tribe now. Maybe you can explain why it was so important to give it to me now.”

“I knew this time would come, when you realized that I had kept things from you but I had my reasons, Jack.”

“Wait, wait... everything is starting to make sense now. Your dreams, visions, the Maccapitew ... that’s what brought me here but it wasn’t about the giant, and it’s not what this whole thing is about. It was never about the Giant. I realized that when he went down so easy. That was a ruse but it was connected. It was the cave or should I say, what was in the cave. Did you know what was in there?”

Ayana lowered her eyes as if shamefully having to admit something.” Yes I knew... I knew because you told me what it was… a portal, a rift, a bridge of some kind that leads to... I don't know where.”

Jack replied confused. “ What do you mean I told you… I just found out yesterday.” Jack said defensively. “ And as of right now I don't actually know that it is what you say it is.”

Ayana seemed frustrated.” Today you're going to find out that I’m telling you the truth. You ,Jack… it was you ... you came to me those years ago. The Maccapitew followed you through the rift because you had the key… the stone to open the rift. You told me that when the time was right that the amulet should be given to you... to you now, to fix what went wrong before Everything I’ve done I did because you asked me to.”

“Ayana, what you're saying is crazy. How is that even possible? And you and I were together... I mean, we had a thing? I don't mean it that way. I could easily fall in love with you Ayana but how could you love me?”

“ The only way you will ever know the answer to that is to take that step.. over the bridge into the rift. Isn't that why we’re making this trip? To say goodbye… at least for now. I know what you become Jack… more than you are today.”

Jack and Ayana arrived at the opening to the cave. They dismounted and Jack handed the reins of Banjo to Ayana. “ Ask Maska to take care of him. He's quite a change from driving a Caddy… may it rest in peace.” Jack said.

This is hard for me Jack. When we gazed at the moon that night I realized that your destiny must be fulfilled. I won't join you in the cave. Lets say our goodbyes right here.

Ayana moved closer to Jack and kissed him gently and then held him tightly as if for the last time.

“Ayana, I…” Jack whispered softly.”I have to go.”

Jack retrieved his lantern and the amulet from his saddle and walked slowly into the cave alone. He walked past the hundreds of bats hanging from above desperately trying to avoid the guano on the cavern floor until he reached the spot that was clean and clear. It was there that he once again experienced the shimmering wall of light erected before him... beautiful and mesmerizing and beckoning to him to cross over and embrace his destiny.

 

 

Sorry We Missed Your Call

      I was on the other side of the office when James got the call that Elinore had been injured in a car accident. James rushed away immediately to meet the ambulance on its way to the hospital where the extent of her injuries could be determined but Elinore did not make it there. She  died enroute shortly after James had received the call. Her last words to the ambulance personnel were that they find the number on her phone and call James to let him know.

    Before I continue I need to fill you in on the relationship between James and Elinore prior to the tragic occurrence on that day, First, a few thoughts on the subject of love though, because I feel it will help you understand the extent of the loss beyond the mere fact that a life was lost. I think in many ways one could say that actually two lives were lost that day, for as the saying goes  James and Elinore were "all in " for one another. Now, I knew James before he ever met Elinore and its safe to say he was never what most people would call "a romantic".  In fact I would say he seemed uninterested in fostering any intimate relationship other than friendship at work. Before Elinore I guess I would claim status at best friend and that is why I write this now,

    As I said James wasn't born a romantic but he became one at age 27 when he looked into the eyes of one Elinore Hart and ,from that moment on, they each became enamored with one another at a level I would call unhealthy in hindsight, Let me explain. When love comes to you all things are wonderful in spite of the mundane existence of others and all other things appear insignificant in comparison. The euphoria of being in love supercedes all else but under normal circumstances it eventually decreases to a level that allows for resumption of one's daily routine.

    If I may assert a minor personal observation, there is a down side to it all that we learn early on.  With love comes weakness, vulnerability to the possibility of pain. Love can save you or it can annihilate you sapping any strength you thought you ever had, crushing any joy you ever felt before.  And the funny thing is, love is never a choice. It is a command of the heart that can descend upon you like a gentle morning mist of dew quite unaware. A book written by another friend of mine compares love to a poison with no antidote in most cases. Perhaps a little overstated but I think it applies here. 

    James was a zombie now or he was until he disappeared not long after Elinore died. He was not a zombie in the literal sense but figuratively speaking since the love of his life was gone. He was suffering from something far worse than a bite from the undead. It was heartbreak that produced the rudderless, shuffling individual that I saw near the end. He had disconnected from virtually everything else in his life mourning for Elinore. As I said too heavily invested. I feared that he was becoming suicidal but something happened that slightly took the edge off his despair. It is the reason I am taking the time to relay this story to you now.

   James was given possession of Elinore's personal affects from the hospital. Basically just the things that were in her car at the time of the accident, her purse and her phone. He quickly realized that her phone contained the sound of her voice on the recorded message for voice mail. It was a small comfort but a comfort nonetheless that he initiated frequently to experience the closeness he felt with her in life.  It was a simple message but a powerful proxy in the  absence of its owner. Hi this Elinore , Sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number and I'll return your call as soon as possible. And that was it, the standard message. Nothing more, .nothing less. Unbeknownst to me at the time, James would call the number over and over and over again numerous times a day as a ritual that provided him the consolation that he so desperately needed... that made him believe that Elinore was still with him.  Eventually James opened up to me about the fact that he was "speaking to her" in this way and I made the casual comment that it was good to have that small recording to remember her by and James agreed at first, but then days later made an excited declaration in private to me that Elinore was responding to his calls. I made a point to diplomatically take him aside and as gently as possible remind him that we both had attended Elinore's funeral mere weeks  before and that as much as we missed her, she was never coming back. I encouraged him to try to move forward.

    The following week James arrived at work from the weekend happier than he had been since Elinore's passing and I silently congratulated myself for having given him sound advice but later in the day James again made his assertion  that Elinore was indeed communicating with him telling him that she missed him terribly and wanted them to be together once again. At that point I must confess that I lost my composure and felt that I owed him the harsh truth. "Give me the phone James!", I demanded. "Somebody needs to set you straight. Give me her phone and let me hear for myself." James looked at me with a wounded glance and produced the phone without any resistance. "It isn't her phone you need, it's mine." he explained. "Hers has a passcode that I don't know."   I took the phone and found the number and called and waited for the message to play. The words I heard were unexpected.  James, is that you? I'm so lonely without you. I miss you so. If only we could be together again. I closed my eyes for a moment as I processed what I had just heard. "You see? I'm not crazy. I told you." he insisted.  "This is not possible James." I replied, handing back his phone. "Somebody is playing some sick game with you. I don't know how but its the only thing that makes any sense." I said those words but even so I couldn't really believe them myself. How could it be done?

      James left the office that day vowing to everyone that he would find a way to be with her once again. It didn't surprise me really,  after all, when it came to matters between those two, they were always "all in."  None of us ever saw James  after that. We were fearful that he had taken his own life in some misguided attempt to reunite with his beloved Elinore. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that I passed by the desk where James had worked and I suddenly and intuitively felt the need to search his desk for any evidence or clue as to what James had planned. I opened the center drawer and immediately found the two phones belonging to James and Elinore. I again felt compelled to suspect the worst and that James had done the one thing that in his tortured mind would bring them together. As I pondered his fate holding his phone in my hand I decided to call Elinore's number to listen to what she now had to say to anyone who called. As the message began to play a chill came over me as I listened to the voices of James and Elinore together laughing in a playful tone as if the caller had interrupted a romantic intimate moment between the two as they traded off different portions of the message with one another. And the message played on...Hi this is Elinore...and this James. We can't come to the phone right now. Sorry we missed your call. We may never return your call so just be happy for us.

    Love is a funny thing and the older I get the less I think I know about it. I've thought about it ...about whether its possible to love someone too much. After all that happened, I'm uncertain what the answer is. One thing I do know is that iphones are remarkable devices but even they need a battery charge and a data plan to keep going. With that in mind I contacted the provider for Elinore's phone and assured them that I wanted to keep her phone in service. I told them that I didn't need the passcode for access and that I had no desire to change anything on it. I mean really...why would I?

Jack The Giant Killer Chapter 2

 

      Jack, Chitto and Maska arrived at the Paiutes Tribe compound after enduring a five hour road trip down Indian Route 13. As road trips go it was overwhelmingly preferable to a three day ride on horseback.  Chitto and Maska had never before enjoyed a ride in a backseat of a Cadillac with the top down and the radio blaring. With their bronzed skin and long flowing hair they resembled college coeds excitedly enjoying the wind through their hair as if their destination was Spring Break. The two Indian brothers  engaged in conversation with Jack as they sped down the highway.

    “Your machine is truly remarkable. Is this what transports you through time and space?”, Maska asked.

   “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that...in the traditional sense." Jack answered warily." You’re looking at the top of the line caddy, Manuel and Fredo. This is the deuce ex machina ,otherwise known as the 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biaritz Convertible. It’s got a 6.4-liter. OHV, naturally aspirated V-8 engine that cranks out 345 horsepower at 4800 rpms and 435 pound-feet of torque. Plus some of my own modifications to improve performance. Jet fuel,  did I mention that I use jet fuel to power this baby ...no offense to Poncho and Cisco or my boy Banjo but this is my one sweet ride . The choice of kings, sheiks and other rich folk, not to mention gangsters. This particular vehicle was previously owned by the now deceased Lefty Zamboni not coincidentally of the Zamboni Crime Family. A word of advice boys, poker’s not a game for the weak of heart, Let’s just say it this way. Be careful what you bet and always be prepared to lose it. Good advice for anyone I say. I could have been sleeping with the fishes at the bottom of Lake Tahoe, but instead I’m cruising down Route 13 with my two new Indian brothers.”

  Chitto smiled at the comment. “ You should visit our casino sometime. Maybe you could show us your poker skills. I did not tell you this but our tribe owns several casinos and other successful enterprises. Our sister can tell you more when you meet her.”

  “Your sister? You never told me you guys had a sister.” Jack replied.

   Chitto explained, “Yes, she is our priestess. She is the head of our tribe and she is waiting for us to bring you to her."

    Jack's eyes widened, " Whoa, hold on hombres, this isn't some kind of matchmaking deal you're roping me into is it? I'm not really the blind date type."

"Not at all, Mr. Dangerfield." Chitto confessed. "Jack, she is the one who convinced us to seek you out. She is counting on your bravery to save us. This trouble weighs heavy on her heart. She has shared our dreams regarding this and most importantly ... she believes in you."

 "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose the least I can do is hear her out." Jack admitted.

    Maska had been silent for several miles while he listened to his brother Chitto discuss the details of what lay in store for them down the road. "Jack, you are the Enkoodabaoo the one who lives alone, am I right? But why...I mean really? What brought you to the desert? Was it really a search for your destiny, or was it something else?" 

   Jack turned down the radio as Bubble Puppy sang a song about hot smoke and sassafras and he paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay, so its truth time Manuelle...the real reason I came out here was because... frankly, I was chasing a skirt... you know, a woman. Its a time honored tradition among men to give up everything they have for a grand romantic gesture, and that's what I did."

  Maska listened and then politely asked, "so where is this woman now?"

Jack winced but  kept his eyes on the road as he answered. " I guess women are like desert mirages or better yet dust devils. They appear, they devastate and then disappear in the blink of an eye. The best you can do after that is pick up the pieces and carry on, or if you're like me you fall apart and retreat into the desert pretending to write stories about things that will never happen." Jack paused and sighed to himself, "so Miguel , do you have any more questions for the legendary Jack Dangerfield? Ask them now before we arrive ...it won't be long. Its just around the bend according to the map."

   Maska tried unsuccessfully to hide his disappointment and he hunched back in his seat visibly irritated. " Yeah, around the bend. I've just got one more question, is there anything real about you at all."

   Jack turned his head trying to address his newly established Indian brother and with that motion the wind caught his hat and sent it sailing into the wind and Jack cursed quietly to himself for losing his favorite hat. Disgusted at the loss he gave a terse response "Well, not that its for me to say, but I ask myself that question everyday." 

Maska ignored the comment but answered with a simple statement. "You could do worse."

Jack was puzzled by the remark, " what do you mean...worse than what?"

"Our sister." Maska replied.

                                                                  #

   Ayana awoke that morning as she did every day with enthusiasm and optimism.  Her mornings were filled with tribal responsibilities of the mundane kind but she took pleasure in such things. Tending the livestock and working the fields, these things were essential to the welfare of The Paiutes Tribe and even though she was the high priestess in title she was a mindful young Indian woman who feared for her own future as well as the tribe’s, in light of the growing threat of the Maccapitew.  Her beauty and grace were celebrated within her tribe, for no other maiden could compare to the loveliness of the flower Ayana. There was no doubt that the Great Spirit had endowed her with a sensual countenance, shimmering raven hair , pale bronze skin and symmetry of her every curve and feminine attribute. Such a young woman bravely assumed the role of tribal chieftain after the departure of her father a year before. Now her mother was in poor health for she was old and infirmed both physically and emotionally by things of the past. Her sorrow of the Maccapitew. Though young in experience Ayana was beloved by all in her tribe ,for she had shown by her own example the true character of a leader deserving respect.

    It had been four days since her brothers Chitto and Maska had set out to enlist the help of the one called Dangerfield the Enkoodabaoo and she was anxious as to their success in achieving that goal.  Ayana took to the task of dressing for the day donning her buckskin skirt and tied sandals then binding her long raven hair with a silver handmade ring  inlaid with turquoise. She busied herself with grooming the horses today and with her free time later perhaps creating some jewelry to sell at the gift shops in town. Ayana adhered to the skills and customs of her historical tribe and that included her love of artistry. She was about to walk across the reservation square from the stables when she heard the sound of a motor vehicle pulling into the village. Such noise was not common place within the square so it caused quite a stir with its presence and more so by its appearance, the long and sleek body with high tech fins jetting from the back of Jack's Cadillac. Ayana calmly walked closer toward the vehicle that was towing an unfamiliar trailer behind it. As she drew near she recognized the faces of her two brothers and one other behind the wheel just now opening the door and surveying his new surroundings.

   "Chitto, Maska...where are the horses? and what and who is this?," she exclaimed pointing at the motorcar and at the mysterious stranger now looking her over from head to toe inquisitively.

   "The horses are fine, fully rested and in good care." Maska said reassuringly.

   " Jack Dangerfield thought it would be quicker to take his time machine and truthfully it was very enjoyable." Chitto explained.

   "Hmm, I see." Ayana said softly, moving even closer to the stranger. " And this would be Mr. Dangerfield himself ?" she asked inspecting him up and down in a judgmental fashion.

  Suddenly Jack was aware that all eyes in the village square were upon him and the pressure to say the right thing made him hesitate to speak at all. "First things first...the name is Jack, without the Dangerfield, and I feel like I owe you an explanation." He continued while nervously clearing his throat. He pointed to his Cadillac to clarify any further confusion. "That is not my time machine and moreover I feel like you and I need to speak privately if we could."

  "Yes, as you wish. I think that would be good. I am very interested in hearing your plan to help us. I have told the tribe about your reputation and we want to give you a proper welcome." Ayana turned her attention to her brothers. "Chitto and Maska, bring the horses to the stables and get Mr. Dangerfield  something to eat. Show him to my work shed so he can get some rest after his journey here.  I will join him after he has had a  chance to settle in." Ayana faced Jack and embraced him briefly revealing her relief that their champion had finally arrived. "We have much to discuss Jack Dangerfield. I have waited for this day with great anticipation. This one thing I know from my dreams and visions...your journey...this task...is not just for my tribe. It is for you as well. Tonight we will ride to a quiet place nearby and discuss what lies ahead."

  Ayana turned to leave  but then paused and looked back at Jack who was himself trying to recall if he had ever met a more beautiful woman in his life. "I must confess, Jack Dangerfield, you are not as I pictured you in my mind." 

   Jack deflected the comment with a somewhat transparent plea," Uh, I'm guessing... more handsome?" Jack watched her as Ayana walked away smiling with a doubtful grin.

  Chitto  walked over to Jack to show him the way while Maska brought Cisco, Poncho and Banjo to the stables. "So, what do you think about our tribe Jack and my sister now that you have seen them?"

Jack followed Chitto and as he walked Jack gave  a sigh of relief when he answered.

  "I have to tell you Cabo, your sister is a stone cold fox... no doubt about it. I'm glad I came but as to the other stuff?...I'm scared as hell. Lets go get some grub." Jack said shrugging off the question.

  " Jack, its Chitto, not Cabo...you're not even trying." Chitto complained.

   " What's your sister's name again. I don't remember catching it." Jack asked, oblivious to his reply.

   Chitto shook his head in resignation. "I'll write it down for you. Lets go."

                                                                  #

     The Pauites reservation rested on an oasis tucked away from the curious eyes of others  on the southern edge of a large canyon gorge leading up into the mountain foothills and descending into a lush valley below. One might mistake it for a mirage given its beauty. The land was large and fertile and fed by the waters of the Warrior River and Virgin Falls within. Foliage of various sizes and hues filled the hills and valleys decorating it with colors normally only found in one's imagination. Jack had only seen the open fields and livestock as he and his companions approached from the highway. He had expected to find a modest settlement  in ruins but instead he silently marveled at what he perceived to be a thriving community. The wide open spaces of his own Ranchita certainly had its own allure but it did not compare to what he saw before him now.

Photographs on the walls of the shed he presently was sitting in gave Jack a clearer understanding of the tribe, the people and their crusade to save their way of life.

   The work shed he had been resting in while waiting for Ayana was less a shed and more a craftsman's shop filled with the tools and materials of an artist.  A work bench positioned by an open window gave evidence of where Ayana spent most of her time in the room. Articles of her artistry lay on the bench...sheets of silver, a jeweler's saw, a leather hammer, solder flux, sandpaper and pieces of turquoise and flint, deer sinew and resin. In another corner Jack saw a familiar instrument, an old acoustic guitar with a telling layer of light dust on its surface indicating its lack of use. "Hmm, she must have lost interest," he thought. "Too bad." Jack was just about to venture out of the work shed to inquire when his host might be arriving when the door swung open and he again was in awe of the beauty of Ayana. " I trust you are fully rested now. I thought you and I might take a ride outside the village to a little spot not too far from here." she announced.

   Jack nervously agreed. "Yeah, sure. You ever ridden in a Cadillac?" Ayana smiled and walked nearer to Jack and realized he was admiring her tools on the bench. " I can't say that I have, but I thought we'd go on horseback  instead. I had Maska saddle up Banjo for you and Vixen for me." she explained and paused.  "Are you interested in jewelry? I noticed your arrowhead and the  silver buckle on your belt. Is that your work  Mr. Dangerfield?"

Jack responded bashfully. " Oh no, those were gifts."

 "I see," she continued." my art  helps me to...oh, how should I put it... explore my primitive passions, so tell me Jack...what are your primitive passions?" 

    Jack had a thought in his head as he looked at Ayana and heard her question but he chose to be coy. "Well, in my younger days I was a musician but things change. I see you play guitar too but I got the impression that maybe you lost interest in that."  Jack speculated.

  "That guitar once belonged to someone else...someone I knew well but as you say things change. It would please me if you would play something for me...a favorite song perhaps."

  Jack thought a minute and tried to remember the last time he had picked up his own guitar and he couldn't, but nevertheless he shuffled slowly over to the corner and picked it up. He pulled up a nearby chair and strummed sheepishly and Ayana sat nearby on her bench as Jack tried his hand at an old song. " I don't know why this tune popped up in my head but its simple, so I think I can handle it. Its an old song that an old friend wrote years ago and I always kind of liked it. I warn you, its a sad song." Jack kidded. "Its called Woman of My Sorrow, so brace yourself."

   Ayana smiled and leaned back as she listened. The lyrics were quaint and nostalgic as Jack tried his best to recall them...woman of my sorrow. come let me hold you forever. woman of my sorrow, take all my heartache away...never before have I gazed in her eyes, but it stays in my mind oh so clear, if only the woman could see how I cry and know that I need her right here...

  Jack fumbled through the chords occasionally failing to remember it all but finally making it to the end. Ayana 's response was forgiving and good. "I too have known such sorrow. The words ring true in my own life. Thank you for that."

   Jack placed the guitar back in its position in the corner and humbly admitted. " I was a young man when I first sang that song, a lot of water under the bridge since then. I have to say I can't imagine you having such concerns."

   Ayana smiled at the flattery. "Really Jack? What is your impression of me so far? I'd really like to know."

   "Well, I'm going to avoid stating the obvious. You're very beautiful. I got that right out of the gate ,but I don't think you're the tribe's leader because of that. I'm guessing you earned it somehow so that tells me a lot. You care about the traditions of your tribe. I surmised that from your work bench and your summons to me.  Oh and something else ...upon seeing you today, I finally realize why the clothes you wear are called "buckskin." Its because they're made with about a dollar's worth of material!" Jack joked. "Don't get me wrong, you wear it well. No complaints here."

   " Very amusing." she blushed. "And what about you Jack? Let me assess your wardrobe and see if you agree. I first noticed your arrowhead bolo tie and the silver handmade Indian head belt buckle that adorns your belt. That tells me you are a spiritual being with ties to the earth around you , just as I am. The faded denim of your jeans and shirt reflect the wisdom of your years and the respect you carry for what has come before. The long flowing gray of your hair and beard are as a flag unfurled in the wind. So how am I doing?" Ayana said, folding her arms in conclusion.

   " Hmm, poetic , I'm sure, but I'm not so wise I think ... more weary than wise." Jack admitted

    "Before I met you today, I pictured you as arrogant because of your reputation," Ayana revealed. "I'm not sure if age brings wisdom. Perhaps it is as the saying goes,   'its not the years, its the miles.'"

   Jack asked with a puzzled look," Is that an old Indian saying?"

   "No, its Indiana Jones." she teased.

  Jack was relieved to have broken the ice between the two of them but he knew he had to ultimately address the reason why he was there and who she thought he was. "Look Ayana, I need to come clean on something so that you don't have the wrong idea about me."

    Ayana stopped him from elaborating. "Mr. Dangerfield...Jack, I have no doubt that you will succeed in your effort to kill the Maccapitew. I can only imagine how you do what you do but I know you have questions and I will answer them, but first it is I who must come clean about something." Ayana paused looking down as if searching for the right words.

   "All of this you see around you is not so simple to explain. You say I earned the right to be the leader of my tribe and maybe some of that is true, but this paradise you say we have comes from my father, handed down to me when he left."

   "Wait a minute, I thought he was dead." Jack explained.

   "On the contrary, he's very much alive and managing his many business enterprises in Nevada but he entrusted me with the survival of our tribe."

   " The casinos?  Chalmers and Mitch said something about that. So what you're telling me is that all of this ...the land, the compounds and livestock comes from casino money?" Jack asked.

   "Not just casinos, he owns the second largest marijuana dispensary in Arizona." she admitted. " And its Chitto and Maska, have you forgotten their names?"

  "Wait, slow down...you're growing marijuana out here too? Is that even legal?"

  "Yes of course but I just wanted you to understand that our livelihood won't be ruined by the Maccapitew. we are in danger but not because of financial ruin. My dreams... my visions told me that it had to be you that fixed this." she confessed. "So there it is. Now you know."

   Jack scratched the side of his beard as he listened to Ayana's confession.

   "Listen, Ayana, I have to be honest its no big deal, after all, you wouldn't be the first daughter living off of daddy's money. Lucky for you its not a crime to be rich."

   Jack reached out to Ayana and drew her close to him. " Ayana, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm glad you brought me here. How could I not help you? You've got to know that I think you're pretty wonderful." Jack confessed hesitantly.

Ayana looked down timidly and then up into Jack's eyes and Jack's heart melted. In that short period of time within a matter of hours  of meeting, Jack was smitten by the flower Ayana and she in turn felt connected to him. Jack released her from his embrace and it was then that he intended to reveal the truth about himself, but he couldn't. He didn't want to be less in her eyes than she wanted him to be and so tomorrow he would track down the giant and kill it and that would be the end of it. Jack Dangerfield would do no less.

  Late in the afternoon Jack and Ayana rode their horses to the outskirts of the village and down to a secret cove along side the banks of the Warrior River with the beautiful Virgin Falls in the distance. It was there they stayed into the early evening until the sky began to reveal the infinite stars above and  it was then that Jack knew it was time to tell the truth... an explanation of his predicament, Ayana deserved it and needed it now. And so he tried.

  " Ayana, you've been honest with me and now its my turn. Time is a powerful thing and yet oh so simple to describe.  That's all time is...progression through space filled with regrets and possibilities with no real means to potentially know which is which. Time is linear and unforgiving, yielding rewards and consequences after the fact, after the moments tick away and never clearly marked as right or wrong, good or bad."

  " Jack, I'm not sure what you're saying.." Ayana responded hastily.

  " Please let me finish...this is important." Jack pleaded.

  " You say you want me to kill this thing, but because of who you think I am, I think you want something else. You want me to go back to the beginning and change all this and prevent this curse from ever happening...don't you? Is that what you expect of me...to travel back in time and undo this whole mess?  Well, that's something I can't do even though I wish I could." Jack continued to confess his frustration. "I've never been able to do that. Don't you see?   I still can't figure out how my fiction made its way to you and into your dreams."

    The expression on Ayana's face revealed her disappointment.

    " In the beginning I guess I thought it was too good to be true...the fantastic things I imagined...you... commanding the hands of time with a mere thought... but barring that possibility I still do believe in this one thing I heard someone say...Character is Destiny."

Ayana paused thoughtfully. "You know my father has the power to end this himself...if he knew, he would send an army of men."

    Ayana led Jack over to a spot near the water overlooking the bottom of the Falls. Jack just stood still at first listening to the rushing of the water as it splashed down  all around them and it drowned out all other sounds like white noise providing its own kind of silence. They marveled at the view of the sky as the stars shined and sparkled above them. The moon hung low in the sky and appeared to just barely graze the tops of the hills around them.

    "Its funny how the moon looks, like someone used a hole puncher and made an aperture to another world bright and shiny and full of hope on the other side." Jack said.

    "Yes it does, I've often thought that myself. If ever I could , would I go through it?" Ayana revealed.

    "I would in an instant." Jack replied wistfully.

    " Oh Jack, of course you would ... a man like you who has seen what you've seen and been where you've been." she now remarked sarcastically.  "But for me I'm content to be where I am in this place with my people." 

     " I certainly understand why you would feel that." Jack replied casually looking around. " I have to say I never would have imagined something so beautiful out in the middle of the desert."

     "Yes, this is a lovely peaceful spot." Ayana agreed.

     " Actually, I wasn't referring to the setting." Jack admitted.

     " Oh I see Jack. Your flattery may work on me but the Maccapitew will not be so easily swayed. I hope you have planned your strategy for there is much at stake.

     "No worries, Ayana. Tomorrow the Giant will fall. Jack Dangerfield always has a plan," Jack said while his mind raced desperately for an answer.  "I think we should head back now. Tomorrow promises to be an interesting day."

    

  

Stroud

     I think it was pink...maybe a pale pink. I suppose one could have said it was a blushed red but no matter what it was, it wasn't an organ and that's what we needed. preferably a Hammond B3 with an accompanying leslie speaker. All the heavy bands were using them...Vanilla Fudge, Steppenwolf, Iron Butterfly etc. You get the idea. But Billy convinced us that he and his electric piano would be cool enough and because of his heightened powers of persuasion Billy Stroud became an Azurite and although The Azurites (named for a light blue chemical in David Miller's chemistry set) came and went after about a year (1967-1968), we enjoyed our short lived fame at Slidell Junior High as rock stars. It gave us all a taste of the power of music above and beyond the school marching band.

     To my best recollection Bill Stroud didn't exist for me until Junior High. Before that he was just a rumor instigated by the children of the many Texas transplants motivated by the great NASA migration in the early Sixties. Over time I and many others became familiar with his obsessions with ,among other things, Texas A&M, The Civil War, music and ,of course, the automotive oddity that was (is) the Corvair.  Throughout junior high and high school Bill was a major influence on the blossoming psyche of the group we called the Great Society. this was the name we dubbed ourselves and "borrowed" from a Texas politician LBJ. It reflected our desire to change the world around us. Ironically , I dare say that in today's world those same people would summarily reject those liberal leaning ideas but that's not really all that unusual. The idealism of youth often disappears with age and is replaced with an assimilation of what "has been" all along. But I digress.

    I don't remember what Bill Stroud's father did for a living but I suspect that he had previously graduated from Texas A&M with some sort of engineering degree and as a father passed those aspirations on to his son. I say this because it is no coincidence that Billy persuaded the school band to adopt the Texas Aggies cheer, "Gig 'Em, Tigers!" for our own use. "Gig 'Em"? Really?What does that even mean?  And while we're on the subject of nonsense, where did his fascination with the Corvair come from? I'm going to stop short of saying he was a Corvair but I think he identified with the uniqueness of the design. The Corvair featured an air cooled engine in the trunk and that was unique but with this design also came a bad reputation that centered around its instability when making sharp turns or corrections. The Corvair itself became a symbol of poor engineering until a research project at Texas A&M provided test data that disproved that notion. This project was initiated in 1972 I believe , shortly after Bill Stroud began his college career there. Coincidence? Probably, but not emphatically. I never got the chance to ask him. We lost touch after high school, but there is a joke I'm sure he stole from somewhere that helps me remember his sense of humor and the drive he felt to prove himself. On a certain occasion someone made a disparaging remark about the size of his shoes and his size in general and Billy countered with the clever quip, " You need a bigger foundation for a church than an outhouse."

There is no question that Billy influenced the group think within our social group and further in the school band. Bill participated in countless school band functions, Red McIntire's swing band, and early on the yearbook staff.  I suspect that teachers and band directors too spent many days rationalizing their admiration and frustration over Bill Stroud. I can still hear the echo of Mr. White screaming at the top of his lungs at the rebellious lower brass section  improvising parts led by Bill and still later seeing Mr. White glow with pride as Billy was named student conductor of the band.  He was smart and clever, deceptively charming and a major instigator of mischief. Ask Bruce Clement how his Fiat wound up in the interior hallway of the band room at SHS during lunch hour. I think it was a Fiat. It may have been some other wind up clown car contraption but it was a car nonetheless brought inside the building. That demonstrates knowledge, problem solving, planning ahead and resourcefulness all at once. Today we call those things leadership qualities. Back then I'm pretty sure we called it criminal mischief. 

    If I were to attempt to describe Billy Stroud at age 16-17, I would compare him to Andy Hardy, Mickey Rooney's movie persona from an era that precedes our teenage years mixed in with a little Ferris Bueller from our way post teenage years. Both showed ingenuity in a pinch and a penchant for recruiting help in the performance of the crime... I mean task.

   As I said my friendship with Bill ended after high school but I had a colorful history with him in those days. I'm not sure what Billy would say about our friendship during those years but I would call it something on the order of benevolent adversaries almost from the beginning. We shared many of the same interests and unfortunately wanted many of the same things... and people. I will leave it at that. Explain friendship and romance to a 14 year old. I'll give you a moment. The summer of '68  provided me with a lesson in love and friendship and that lesson was given to me at my own birthday party hosted by Billy Stroud on Apple Pie Ridge Road.         To be clear, it was a great party. All my friends were there including my love interest at the time. The music was perfect and  the gifts were generous. A very nice pool party. I am amazed that I still have two massive birthday cards signed by everyone in attendance on that day. But eventually with the party winding down my girlfriend at the time decided to break up with me as we stood alone outside by the pool. As an adult I suppose I can liken the feeling to going to Disneyland and then finding out your parents are getting a divorce when you get home. One negates the other. The last time I can remember being at Billy's house was months later at the beginning of our first year at Slidell High to work together on a Biology project for the BSCS Pond Study. On the very same electric piano of Azurite fame, Bill and I composed the haunting Biology ballad, "What's It All About, Algae?"  My question is, can you ever really know?

    Finally, I want to finish my walk down memory lane with a short account of what I think is one of Billy's finest moments as a teenager in training. I never pictured Billy Stroud as a particularly romantic guy. Funny, yes?  Intelligent, certainly? And I know just like the rest of us, he passed notes in class often to the dismay of our teachers. In those days note passing was how we kept up to date with all the school drama. In that first year at Slidell High Bill Stroud went that extra mile and wrote ,what I heard through the grapevine, was an honest- to- God love letter to the girl he loved. It wasn't a funny note, it wasn't a whimsical expression of interest. It was a mature, heartfelt confession of love. Now I can tell you as a musician and a romantic who sang many a love song about generic affection , it never occurred to me to try that myself. At the time I remember thinking how sappy it was to "write a letter" of that magnitude that would certainly end in humiliation for him. But that's not how it went down. By all accounts this literary masterpiece melted her heart like a candy bar on a hot summer sidewalk. I don't really want to know the actual contents of that letter from over fifty years ago. It was probably not as eloquent as I imagine. The outcome speaks for itself.

   My last conversation with Bill was at a class reunion a few year ago. He entered the room sporting what looked to be a colonel's hat or more accurately a riverboat gambler's hat and he was walking with the assistance of a cane but not relying on it too much. He brought me up to speed on his life telling me about his wife, his kids and his engineering firm. He told me he had seen the YouTube tribute to The Azurites and we had a good laugh at that. He said he was glad to be able to prove he was a junior high rock god to his grandkids. My eventual conversation with him was not very long but of course we touched upon old relationships from days gone by and he quietly confided to me that "she was a hard one to get over." I knew exactly what he meant because ,as I said earlier, we both often wanted the same things.

Jack The Giant Killer Chapter 1

   Jack Maxwell sat on the deck overlooking the Arizona desert sipping on a bottle of whiskey and smoking a joint intermittently in between.  His portable radio by his side was tuned to FM radio titan KJAX  repeating  song after song of his Sixties favorites. "Walk right in, sit right down, Daddy let your mind roll on" it rang out as he surveyed the scene in front of him and its echo filled the air while he mumbled the lyrics.  He pondered many things in the morning. It was a routine that he enjoyed in his solitude residing in Mesquite in the desert early mornings when temperatures were mild and pleasant, watching the dawn of a new day as the sun peeked out on the horizon. Jack had few visitors at his modest estate he wistfully named the Ranchita. In actuality most of his visitors were residents as well...scorpions and rattlesnakes and a host of other dangers out in the vast expanse of the desert field. Jack often marveled at the diversity of life surrounding him in his self imposed isolation. Surrounded by deadly hunters and predators of different sizes and shapes. For instance , despite its size the scorpion can easily defeat a rattlesnake on the arrid battlefield with its venom that liquifies the insides of its prey. Even the smallest creatures had survival strategies. Size wasn't always an advantage. Jack had learned that, living in the desert.

    Far off in the distance, on the edge of the horizon Jack noticed the movement of three small dots approaching from the North below the mosaic backdrop of red and grey foothills. 
He estimated that at their present rate his visitors on horseback would arrive at midday. Meanwhile he made preparations to greet his unexpected quests and offer them hospitality.       "Must be tourists horseback riding lost way out here. If nothing else they'll need water," he thought. "Must have taken a wrong turn in Vegas," he joked to himself.

  Jack got up from his comfortable seat positioned on the apex of his deck and began the task of collecting water for the horses. "I hope they're not expecting a three course meal. This ain't no bed and breakfast," he thought.

   Just as he predicted,  two men on horseback with a third mount in tow, who could have passed as young Hispanics but who were in fact Indian scouts, arrived at his doorstep at noonday. Remaining on their horses they waited for Jack to approach them. When Jack seemed satisfied that they were harmless he stepped out on to his porch taking off his wide brim hat in the process and laying it aside. " You fellas seem a little lost to me. Is there something I can do for you?,"he asked. " Where you're standing is private property. The main road is somewhere in that direction," he said pointing vaguely in the air.

" We seek the man Enkoodabaoo.  We have traveled three cycles from our village to ask for his help. His name is Jack, the Enkoodabaoo. I am called Chitto and this is my brother Maska. We seek audience with the one named  Jack... the man who lives alone...Jack Dangerfield. Only he can help us.

Jack expressed confusion at their declaration.

  "Jack?...that would be me alright but you've got some of it wrong. I'm afraid you've been misinformed. I am Jack,  some call me Cadillac Jack, but Jack Dangerfield... well, he’s somebody else altogether. You see Jack Dangerfield is a character I created. He's not real.”

  The scouts looked at one another with consternation and then Maska replied.

  "We don't understand. You are Jack, the one who lives alone and traverses the sky and time itself. Jack Dangerfield travels the stars and confers with the great wind spirit. He counsels with the sky people and angels. In our dreams we are told that only he can help us.  We have come to plead with you to save us from the Maccapitew.”

Jack’s confusion continued.

"Wait, hold on...the Macca whatchoo? Is that some kind of wild animal around these parts that I'm not aware of yet? That sounds like an animal control issue and their office is in town”

   Chitto seemed impatient with Jack’s response and his eyes expressed frustration. “Maccapitew is our Indian word for “monster .”

 “ Wait, monster you say?” Jack questioned. “You've got more explaining to do ,Cheetos."

"That's Chitto sir, not Cheetos."

"Yeah sorry about that. I don't hear so good these days. Look, why don't you and Maska here hop down and come inside. You must be tired from the ride and all."

Chitto and Maska dismounted their horses and both wiped the sweat from their brows.

   Jack sensed that he needed to be more hospitable.  "Maska, tie them off and give them water.  You’ve got some fine looking horses there. They look like they have a lot of spirit.”

  Chitto smiled , “yes Cisco and Poncho have been raised from colts and the other called Banjo , he is also a fine steed. All three have served us well. My brother Maska was responsible for training them and caring for them since they were young. Maska is also known as Felipe since he is a lover of horses. I too am known as Miguel. It is my non-Indian name. I hope that doesn’t confuse you Jack.”

“No , I get it.” Jack answered,” It’s Indian stuff. No need to explain. How long have you two been riding to get here? Your mounts must be exhausted. And why three horses? Did you bring a spare?”

“A spare? Why no Jack, you see Banjo... Banjo is for you.” Chitto said.

 Jack thought a moment as he eyed the horse Banjo up and down. “Oh fellas, I’ve got to tell you the last horse I ever rode was painted and going round and round on a carousel in New Orleans. I’m not sure I’m up for a three day ride on horseback if that’s what you have in mind. No offense I hope. Nothing against Banjo personally. I’m sure any Indian scout or brave would be proud to ride him.”  Jack reached over and stroked Banjo and examined the beautiful blanket and saddle on his back as if perhaps silently reconsidering the proposition but then suddenly snapping back to reality.

"No ... no...As I was saying I'm sorry you've got it all wrong. My name is Jack, but Jack Dangerfield is fictional...he's made up. You see, I’m a writer and all that stuff about space and time... it’s just fiction. Even after his explanation he saw that they did not understand.  “But I'm curious, why did you come all this way to ask for help? How did you hear about me?""

  Chitto stood silent for a moment and then turned to face Jack. “It is you Jack who does not understand. Our story is brief but we come to you because our tribe, The Paiutes, is in danger and soon many more people could die. You must think we are crazy but I tell you, our dreams do not lie.

You are the one Enkoodabaoo and you have been chosen by the Great Spirit to free us from the giant.”

“Wait a minute. Did you just say “giant?”

Like in The Beanstalk.” Chitto and Maska both looked at one another puzzled by Jack’s words. “I hate to tell you but giants aren’t any more real than Jack Dangerfield and even if they were , one thing you need to understand , this Jack, the one you’re looking at now?... doesn’t do giants. Just for the sake of argument, how big is this  so-called giant anyway? Maybe this thing is just really tall and would benefit from wearing loafers or something. Did you ever think of that , fellas?”

  Chitto answered impatiently, “This thing is a warrior from a long lost tribe  called the Si-Te-Cah. They were a tribe of red haired giants from centuries ago. But what you also don’t know is that, from those times, the giants took women from our tribe who then gave birth to strange offspring who themselves became giants.”

“That’s a great story, Tonto, but if that was centuries ago what does that have to do with us?”

 “My name is Chitto, Sir.”

“Whatever....what is your point?” Jack pleaded.

“Maska, hand me the bag.” Chitto demanded. His brother reached inside his saddlebag and produced a pouch containing what appeared to be an Indian relic. Chitto held it up and revealed its shine and sparkle to the puzzled Jack. Chitto continued,“This amulet is sacred to  our people. The stone is priceless, but this is only part of the story.”

  Chitto took a deep breath and continued as Maska listened intently to the story he already knew. Jack sat quietly rubbing the whiskers on his face as he considered the facts being revealed to him.

  “My family was cursed by the Si-Te-Cah bloodline. This giant is the last remnant of that curse. He is our brother. Years ago our mother brought him to a cave in the wilderness when he was just a newborn baby. She knew the curse had returned.  You see , it had two sets of teeth like the giants from before. Our mother could not bring herself to kill it so she abandoned it deep inside the cave to die on its own. She regrets profoundly what she has done, but it does not change the need to destroy it.“ 

  “Hmm, not exactly mother of the year.” Jack said somberly. “ So what you’re saying is this...this giant guy is actually your long lost estranged brother through some kind of freak of nature...”

 “A curse.” Maska said impatiently. “We tried to end it but it survived in the wild and now that years have passed, it has grown larger and more dangerous. Now it has ventured out from the cave and eats our crops and livestock. It will not stop with that though.

The Si-Te-Cah were cannibals and our brother, this giant, is too.”

  Jack rose up from his seat and paced the room while rubbing his scruffy cheeks in a discerning manner as if plotting a plan of action. “Frito...Mitchell...?”

“That’s Chitto and Maska, sir.... and I should say that our names are not that difficult to remember.”

  “Right, right, sorry about that. It’s late and it’s been a long day for sure.” Jack said.

  “Surely no longer than ours Jack. We’ve been riding close to three days.”

  “Good point , Chachi, lets get some grub.” Jack proposed.

  The day turned into evening and the three enjoyed a tasty meal of turtle soup and cabbage while sitting around an open fire before turning in.

   “Miguel, Felipe... I’ve just got to ask. You know, we live in peculiar times, strange days indeed, wouldn’t you say? Please don’t take this the wrong way but let’s say I accept the premise of your story. Why would you need me at all? I couldn’t help but notice. You’re not carrying any weapons! Why not? Why don’t you brave Indians ride out to this giant’s place and shoot him. Bam, end of story, man! Can you guys explain that to me?”

   “How can you not understand? You are the Enkoodabaoo. “ Chitto continued. “My tribe has lived many years in the desert and our ancestors hundreds of years before and  one thing we know is that the desert holds many mysteries. It is a magical place. Is this not why you are here? The Paiutes are a peaceful people and we seek to understand the ways of the Great Spirit that commands the earth and sky. In the desert the spirit calls to many to fulfill their greater purpose. Some would call it their destiny. We, my brother and I have been told in our dreams that you and you alone can defeat the monster that threatens us. You, Jack Dangerfield have been chosen by the Great Spirit. Surely you have sensed it in your own dreams and have expected it to come to pass.”
   Jack rose up from his chair and scratched his head. “I honestly can’t say that I have but for the reasons I have tried to explain to you already. You guys are freaking me out. You realize that this is a pretty tall tale. You’ve gotta give me a minute to think this thing through.”         Jack walked over to the window and looked out into the ever increasing darkness of the desert dusk and pondered the situation now put before him. Chitto and Maska observed him while he stood there silent. Doubt and discernment played back and forth in his head as Jack sought to decide what to do, and finally it came to him.

   “You know boys, you need a 50lb nutsack for this kind of mission.” Jack said sternly.

   “Yes, Jack. Both Maska and I realize it takes great courage and strength to win such a battle.” Chitto replied.

   “That’s not what I mean though, yes ...bravery and strength but mostly ingenuity. I buy 50lbs of walnuts on some occasions and they come in these burlap sacks. I’ve got a dozen of them in my shed. I have an idea how to use them." Jack continued. "We'll need provisions. You two can bed down here tonight and we'll leave at first light tomorrow.  Now, about the horses... I’m not too keen on riding for three days so here’s plan B. We take my Caddy with my trailer hitch for the horses and we make a side trip into town before heading out into the desert. There’s some things we need from Home Depot and Guns R Us  maybe even the zoo downtown, but we'll figure that out later. Sleep tight compadres, I hope you brought your big boy panties for tomorrow we ride." 
   Chitto and Maska glanced at one another and smiled.