Burst by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 9
“He was hitchin’ near the County Jail in Bernalillo. I know that most people shouldn’t, but I stopped to pick him up. Rikki and I weren’t talking and I figured that maybe we could swap some jail stories. The Indian was totally demented or on serious multiple hallucinogenics. He offered me $400 to drive him back to the reservation in Gallup. I agreed and took the money. He held the rest of his $50,000 wad of cash in his hands, showing it to me, like someone doing a card trick. I mean it was right within our reach. He was leaning forward from the middle of the back seat, grinning and staring at the money. I could have easily taken it right off him and thrown him out, but I’m not like that.”
Rikki rolled her eyes, but kept her thoughts to herself.
“He looked like someone dazed, who was using his last remnants of speed to keep him up after a three day binge.
.......... Or maybe happy like a kid on his first Christmas. He started talking and a lot of it didn’t make any sense at all. He said; ‘Hello my friends! My name is Bit’aa’ni. I am of The Folder Arms People Clan, born for The Red-Running-Into-Water Clan. The Bitter Water Clan are my maternal grandfather's clan and The Tangle People are my paternal grandfather's clan.
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.......... You can call me Bitty. I’m Navajo.’ He found that funny. I told him that we were Rikki and Mal, that we really needed the money and that we were willing to take him all the way. We extended our hands, but his were fixed on his money. He found something funny somewhere in there too. I started to drive. He was about medium sized, maybe a bit on the small side and thin. It was hard to tell with him seated. His face had many sun or smile lines and his eyes were green and maniacally wide.
His clothing looked more Walmart than tribal, but that’s common now.
He said that about three months ago he had hitched over to Tulitown from McKinna, home of his Navajo tribe. He had heard that Tuli was a good place to make money, as long as you do not cross with Naashgali Dine’e and his Mescal warriors.
Rikki interjected; “At first, we figured that Tuli was Albuquerque and McKinna was what he called the reservation in Gallup. Naashgali Dine’e and his Mescal warriors sounded like a mystical name for an Albuquerque drug gang. We’d later find out that wasn’t exactly right. It’s more likely that Naashgali Dine’e and his Mescal warriors are a group of trickster Indian spirits, but I’m not sure. Anyway, Mal handed me the $400 for safekeeping in my purse. Bitty said that he had worked legitimately in Albuquerque, got robbed, and then was arrested in the confusion. He was put in County Jail for a few days, and
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then when he was released he found the money on that wide strip of land bordering the road in front of but not near County Jail.”
Mal again took the floor, saying; “He said that his people were desperately poor and that the men no longer have any elk to hunt, not even a lowly milk snake. In the rear-view mirror I noticed lights steadily a hundred feet behind us. At first I didn’t think much of it. Just a little strange with no one else on the road. You know, sometimes when you’re driving at night and don’t know the road you get behind another car and hope that they do. But, I started to feel uncomfortable and slowed down to see if they would do the same. In the meantime Bitty kept talking and staring at his money, but my mind wasn’t on him anymore.”
Rikki said; “He was talking about how the Tribe Council had told them about how rich they were going to get if they approved gambling. He said that they borrowed money from someone he called the Hashke who also did the construction of the facility named; ‘Inn of the Eighth Age’ and the attached hotel. They also supplied the machines and managed the place.”
I said; “Sounds like the Mob and that ‘Eighth Age’ could mean ‘The end,” like the Biblical references to the un-named eighth day.”
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Rikki said; “Close. But, it’s probably more like Revelation ending an age. But, whatever specifics you choose to insert are really just different names used by different people with slightly different meanings. But, getting back to Bitty’s story, it seems that few people came to the casino. That makes perfect sense to me as it’s in an out of the way location and already had stiff competition from others in more travelled areas. I’ve lived here twenty years off and on, and I never even heard of it.”
I said; “Me too,” leaving off the off and on.
Rikki made a short laugh. I think I knew why considering the possible symbolism, and she continued. “So the Tribe had to make large payments to the Hashke and what they owed kept going up, despite the payments. Many left the reservation, and the ones who stayed started taking white people on hunting and fishing expeditions to pay their tax, eventually depleting the natural food supply.”
Rikki raised her eyebrows and I took it as partial vindication for her theories which were more globally oriented.
Mal jumped back in after a bit of a wake-me-up straight from the clear bottle half sticking out of Rikki’s purse. He spoke in an annoyed-chastising voice. “I heard all this kind of shit before .......”
Rikki interjected “Yeah, from me, not your stupid family.”
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I was concerned that another fight might be in the making, as Rikki quenched her thirst the same way Mal did with a simultaneous short visual dagger directed right at him.
Mal grimaced and kept going. “The main thing was that this car behind us was getting on my nerves. When I slowed down, they did. When I slowed even more they did too. All I’m seein’ is that no matter what I do I got these goddam lights blaring in my rear view mirror. Like I said, I know that sometimes people who don’t know the road do this at night. But, now I’d given them three strong hints that I ain’t all that happy about it, but they persisted. Besides, this road is three lanes in both directions. If you don’t know where you’re going you can get in the middle one and have lots of room for error on either side.
So, now I’m thinkin’ more possibilities than I’m gonna go through. But step one was to make a U-turn and see if it continued to follow. When it did I was sure that we had gotten into the middle of some kind of shit. If it was just a cop he’d have put on the cherry, pulled me over, and give me a ticket for the U-ey. I sped up and headed back east toward Albuquerque.
Fuck sped up and continued to follow, still a hundred feet behind. So now, I’m thinkin’ what the fuck? Bitch knows that I saw the game. If he wants to pull me over, I ain’t got the fastest car in the world, but he ain’t doin’ that. I’m thinkin’
maybe the Indian is in on it, but I can’t figure what or how.
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The only thing I know for sure is that the first thing I gotta do is lose this car.”
I said; “Well, I guess you did.”
Mal shrugged indicating “no big thing,” and said; “Yeah. I drove to this apartment complex I know with about eight different exits, took off the lights, and got onto a side road before he could turn the bend. Dumb fuck’s probably still drivin’ around the lot lookin’ for me.”
I didn’t ask any questions about that as I’d done the same thing once to evade a car full of punkers, who thought I had cut them off. But, I did ask him to continue. I couldn’t help wondering if the door was going to be kicked in any second, though I did take some solace in the fact that they’d been here about six hours and nobody had done it yet.
He said; “There’s not much more to say. For a while I was worried that the guys I lost would contact a buddy who would intercept me somewhere on the highway. For a second I considered taking back roads, but then concluded that would be even more obvious than taking the highway and that’s not even really possible, anyway. After I saw that no one did that the first three interchanges, I figured that I was dealing with a small time operation, and either had happened to run into two cases of dementia in one evening or that they had a Plan B after scaring
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me during Plan A. Small time Plan B seems much more likely and that’s why we’re here.”
I said; “I take it you don’t have any other friends.”
Mal quickly retorted; “None dumb enough to get in the middle of this shit. ............ And none with garage space.”
I always admired Mal’s honesty though he didn’t always admire mine. I figured the “garage space” add on was a poor attempt to soften the blow, but it was of no consequence to me.
What it is is what it is. I said; “So basically, you drove the Indian back home and then came here.”
Mal said; “Yeah. Bitty and Rikki seemed oblivious to the whole thing, until I told her some stuff on the way back. I guess that when he kept talking to her and was saying some really strange things, they were both in some other space. She was probably thinking that she was getting more information for her conspiracy theory ‘work,’ this time from a Navajo perspective; and god knows where Bitty was at. Rikki turned on a mini tape recorder she carries. She didn’t catch all of it, and this cheap machine garbles some stuff. You want to hear it?”
I said; “No matter what I answer, I’m afraid I’m going to anyway. So, bring it. Just one other curiosity. Correct me where I’m wrong, but as an overview, you got $400 less about $100 in petrol expenses for at least six hours work and you are likely
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to now be in some degree of trouble for having done that. It is my honor to have met a fucking genius.”
Non-plussed Mal said; “Fuck you very much. And a correction, if I may. It’s not ME who may be in trouble. It’s WE. In that regard, from your point of view, my overview strongly suggests that, you have received no remuneration whatsoever for likely having entered the same degree of risk; while I have, give or take, received $300 for that. Please correct me where I have miscalculated, my fellow genius.”
I said; “My sincere apologies. I was presumptuous in assuming you had no MBA or had passed the common sense equivalent GDE. You might be somewhat remiss in your ignoring the incalculable pleasure I receive in the company of Rikki. You see, like everything, it’s a package deal, and it turns in my favor; dare I say Rikki’s; when you are outside sweating over the length of one of my plants while she and I sit comfortably in the moderate climate inside, and explore each other’s minds.”
Rikki grinned at both of us, simultaneously seeming to show sad, yet somehow moderate appreciation of me and contentious, yet somehow sufficient appreciation of Mal’s efforts.
Mal said; “Never was one much for that meta stuff; but open to the infinitely spacey.” He pushed a button on Rikki’s recorder. The whirring sound it made when turned on immeasurably dwarfed what would otherwise have been dead silence. While the
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whirr was the only sound currently in the room, he spoke over it, saying; “Here’s the weird Indian shit.”
Rikki was as stone faced as the Moai on Easter Island.
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