- - 24 - -
When they got done eating...
* Alright, boys, * Zeke announced -
And the table disappeared. They were standing slightly apart.
No one was inclined to move. Not yet.
* First off, you learn the advantages of being on my crew. * They looked at each other...
* I've cleaned you up. On the inside. Detoxified your innards. Strengthened your muscles and bones. Softened your arteries. Cancer cells were yanked out of three of you... so I made up a little device to cruise around and inspect ya, head to toe. And it gobbles up those bad cells, tunes up the rest, feeding 'em right. If you don't get hit by a truck, you're going to live long, full lives. *
* Punk, * Zeke whispered to Del. And he shivered.
* I can't do you any permanent damage, without your consent. But I did make a few more changes... I fixed ya. Fake vasectomy scars and all. I guarantee that. I'm going to - *
"Reversible?" Kevin interrupted.
* I knew that was coming. Yessir. * Zeke laughed quietly. * Your favorite activity needs more study. A lot of sex is okay, boys. Preferable, if you want to stay on my good side. And no more surprises. Right, Del? Jamie?
* Your vision is better. Especially you, Kevin. No more trick knee, Jamie. Or the herpes, either, and the same goes for you, Tim... And no back pain for you, Del. Oh, I went to town, I tell ya. I fixed all manner of things, and then I had to go to Tim and skim through his vocabulary to find out what they were. Tendonitis, arthritis, acid reflux, an eardrum all stretched out of shape, some corns here, a few warts there. And so on. Well, you've got the picture.
* Now listen. Try and find something wrong with you. Old injuries, nagging little twinges. Try hard. *
It stopped talking. The guys started looking themselves over. Moving body parts... experimentally at first, then more vigorously. They made surprised noises.
Tim pulled his jeans down, and bent forward. There it was. A dull pink scar, not very wide.
* And not only that, * Zeke intoned, as Tim was buttoning up, * but a whole bunch of things will be taken care of for you. Shopping, cooking, cleaning. Laundry - huh, Del? Kevin, you can throw that floss away. And what is s- oh, yes. Jamie, you won't ever have to scrub a shower... stall again - *
* What's the catch? * Tim ventured.
There was a long pause. * Well, for what you went through this weekend, I'd say all that was the least I could d- *
"What's the catch, asshole?" Del barked. It didn't sound too intimidating, since he could only whisper it. But even Del's whispers tended to carry.
There was a much longer pause. They all looked at Del, waiting for his clothes to disappear, maybe a bed to slide under him -
He tried to tough it out, but he couldn't stare down an opponent who was everywhere and nowhere... so he smoked hard instead.
* Okay, * Zeke said, finally. * Here's the deal. *
* I reckon I've had enough of the quiet life. Now, it's been... fifty-nine years since I put my ear to the ground. So to speak. And I didn't find too many radio stations then. A couple ham operators, some military traffic. You people have been reproducing like... flies. *
* I could've sent out an SOS then. Dit dit dit, dah dah dah, dit dit dit. Still could, for as long as it takes to get some poor slobs to come to my rescue. But I never really had any compelling reason to do that, before. *
* I do now. Hee hee. And come to find out all I had to do was start a fire! Bring a slew of roughnecks running right to me, some of 'em nicely ticklish... Aaah. I'm ready to find me some greener pastures. And you're going to help. *
* Oh, we are? * Jamie said. There was disrespect in his voice. Tim knew that tone real well.
* You bet. First off, y'all exchange data with each other. Everything I told you about me. *
They staggered. But it only took about a second and a half. Tim tried to comprehend it all... and then it reorganized into coherent groups. Kevin had something especially in-
* Later. Stay focused, * Zeke said quietly. Then, to them all, * You got it? *
Jamie and Kevin nodded.
Del and Tim just looked at each other.
* There's six critical pieces you gotta take out of me - out of the ship. Five of 'em you can handle, but the biggest one is the problem. *
Tim saw numbers appear in his mind. He blinked. * 485 pounds? *
Jamie whistled.
* Too much for 'ol Del to get far, * Zeke said cheerfully.
"Do you really... need it?" Kevin said thoughtfully. "If you could get by withou-"
The other guys were staring at him.
* Don't help it, pusbag, * Del "snapped".
* Shit. If it wants something moved, it'll make it happen. Don't be volunteering, * Jamie added, shaking his head.
Tim laughed. A raspy croak, but there were no gloves to be seen, so they relaxed.
* Nearest road, maybe file miles north of here? * Tim said gleefully.
* At least, * Del said.
* With that ridge and another fuckin' spur in between? Mountains! * he said, chuckling without making any noise. * Same thing south. A ridge and another range, between us and the river. There's no way we're gonna get something heavy up and over 'em! *
"Aw, fuck," Jamie croaked.
* What? *
He looked like he'd just swallowed a bug.
* Tell 'em, * Zeke ordered.
* It's been asking me about all kinds of vehicles. And now it's showing me Matt's face. *
* So? * Kevin said.
* Matt works for Forestry, * Jamie said with irritation.
* Helicopter, * Tim groaned.
Zeke just laughed at 'em.
* This is ridiculous... which means it'll probably run like clockwork, * Tim muttered.
Jamie telling Matt, the sci-fi fanatic, about a downed ship. Let's take a look. Del, going in on foot beforehand, meeting 'em...
So long as Matt shuts the 'copter down -
* Will he risk it? His job, I mean? * Kevin wondered.
* Where does he fly to? Usually, * Tim asked quietly.
* From Helena to... uh... Kalispell? * Jamie wondered. * Hell, I don't know, we were stoned - *
* Is that f-, * Zeke started.
But it didn't need to ask anymore. Tim had already figured it out. * We're right on his way, * he said dismally. * In his fuckin' flight path - and I bet... he's even allowed to investigate unusual shit he comes across, if it's safe for him to land - *
* Dude, I think he's supposed to, * Jamie added. * Expected to. *
Zeke sniggered.* Well, if I'm not unusual, I don't know what is. *
* Right, then... You'll go and get him here. Good. Fly my heavy part to Tim's truck. * Its voice got progressively scarier. * Unless you decide otherwise. Double-cross me. Leave me out here... go back to town and have a good laugh. Ol' Zeke, we showed him. * He chuckled, then went on, sounding happier. * Can't have that, boys. You're bringing Matt here, with his helicopter. You have two weeks. I think it'll work... *
* And to make sure you come back - I'm holding one of you dudes, as collateral. *
Tim and Del reacted as if they'd been slapped.
I knew it, Tim thought to himself. Won't let us all go. I can't take it...
Fuck, here it comes, Del thought. His stomach hurt.
Kevin didn't know what "collateral" meant, but from the other guy's faces he knew it couldn't be good.
Jamie closed his eyes and sagged. Any second now, he thought. I'll be horizontal, suddenly. Blink, and I'd miss it. Cuffed -
* One of you ticklish hunters is staying with me, while the others get the 'copter - *
* Now wait. Wait just a minute, * Tim insisted.
"No way. What are they supposed to tell people? He just disappeared?" Jamie began.
Tina'll be pissed. No, just think, Tim told himself. Think, dammit. He was petrified it was going to keep him here. Two weeks! But - was he the practical choice?
Zeke got Del's attention with a tapping sound. * Hey, fucker. *
* Shit, shit. Aw no... * He dropped his head, all queasy.
* Me and you. We're gonna like how this pans out. *
And Zeke whispered something else...
Tim saw Del's head fall -
And fly up again. He looked at Kevin... and he started to smile. Real sly. Not the kind of thing you saw on Del's face every day, though you felt him thinking it.
Kevin hadn't seen the smile.
Tim clutched at a tiny little hope...
Bars appeared. A wall, like a jail cell, floor-to-ceiling. Tim and Del were on the same side. Del kept looking right at Kevin.
The wall... folded, as if it had a big hinge - but Tim wasn't sure which way it would fold. If either end came toward him, he was gonna shit bricks -
But it swung away.
Jamie stepped back just in time.
And Kevin... found himself behind bars. He shook his head, backing away. The bars seemed to fold, and fold again.
"No!"
They ran over his head, and under his boots. He stumbled. The bars were joined now - into a cage, which lifted off the ground.
"Guys! Tim! Help me!" Kevin said, trying to shake the bars.
* Zeke, c'mon. There's other forms of leverage, * Tim pleaded.
* But none so enjoyable. Say goodbye for now, Kevin! *
"Pleeeeeeze!"
Something was pulled out of Kevin's pocket. * Won't be needing these anymore - *
Tim's right hand went out. Zeke lobbed the smokes his way. He nabbed 'em with a flashy catch and nodded slowly. Kevin's lighter came next. Tim grabbed a cigarette from the box and stuck it between his lips.
Quietly, from somewhere above Kevin, Zeke got in one last taunt. * I hope they don't come back for ya, myself... *
"Nnnoooooooh-"
The cage vanished.
After a couple seconds, all three guys sighed at once. A big sigh.
- - 25 - -
Tim looked at the pack design. Avenger.
* There. Now I've got some... "insurance". I think I'll chain it down, for safekeeping. Keep it from getting bored - *
* Two weeks, * Tim said sadly. Zeke made him light up enthusiastically, and suck in like he'd been drooling for one all weekend. He snapped the Zippo shut and tucked it away. His left hand held onto the pack, though... as if there was no real point in stashing it, getting it out again, back and forth and back -
* Could be less. Depends on when you get me that... "chopper". You like my brand, Tim? *
"Smooth," he whispered, coughing.
And his pockets bulged. More packs.
* Okay. Couple more things, and you can go. If you don't come back, I'll call for help myself. I'm motivated now, let me tell you. And oh, I'll hunt you down first. *
Its voice changed. Very dangerous. * I've been designing a prison. Nothing fancy. Maximum security, as I know it. Very remote. You fail to come back here within a fortnight, with that chopper - well, I won't rest until you're all apprehended. * It paused, full of menace. * I'll tickle you for years. *
They looked at each other, all pale and shaky.
* That's right, * Zeke said more sociably. * Now's when I point you toward home and give you a good kick in the pants. *
* Finally, * they all thought -
* You cut me to the quick, I tell you. Trying to come up with an plan... Well, Tim's already had three great ideas to escape me, and I've blocked 'em. Del, there, he thinks big. Had a plan to explode me... * Zeke's voice trailed off.
"Damn," Del croaked.
* Thank you, * Zeke said, with a surprised laugh. * Make that two plans to destroy me - *
* Dammit to hell, * Del thought.
* ...so obviously I can't trust you boys. This is far too important to allow you to get in the way. After this, I can look out for myself. Do whatever I want. You guys know what that means, for you. Heh. *
They looked at each other.
* I've got a hostage, don't I? *
* Keep him, * Del said, grinning again. * Fuckin' works for me. *
Zeke chuckled. * And if something serious happens to me, well, I can't guarantee his safety. *
* Bastard, * Jamie thought.
* Elude me, and I'll bring other help. Start a fire, say southward. A narrow band, burning, and this clearing will lure one helicopter or another. Or someone who can order one to come here...
* And then I will find you. *
Nobody said anything.
* Now, * Zeke said cheerfully. * You boys want me to catch you some big ol' muledeer? *
Kevin shook the bars frantically, all by himself.
And the room... got darker. The walls looked like they were covered in black leather.
"No! Zeke -"
Suddenly - pressure, around his wrists.
Cuffs.
A bed appeared. It was covered in something dark, rubbery. One end started to rise until it was at a decent angle.
Chains appeared at the bed's corners.
Kevin's cage cruised over the bed. Then it disappeared. He fell -
And was caught by a lot of black satin gloves.
"You can't, Zeke! Not me, not... I'll go nuts! You'll kill me! Two weeks?"
The hands spread him out, and undressed him slowly. He flopped around. Zeke let him, because it wasn't going to change anything.
Cuffs materialized around his ankles. The chains were already attached, and their links didn't seem to have any weld or seam.
That freaked him out. Kevin tugged and hollered for a couple minutes.
And when he stopped to catch his breath -
* Little hoss. It's just you and me. * Zeke's thought was very soft. Ominous.
Two more gloves appeared. As he watched, they changed color.
Ice blue.
* But we're going to keep busy. To start off, a sensation that you reacted to, real sweet-like... *
Those gloves made fists, slowly.
* Kevin - now why might these be blue? Huh? What does blue suggest to ya? Hmmmm... *
And they started closing in.
"Pleeeeee-"
* You give up? C'mon, think. Blue. Blue sky, water... ice. Uh oh - *
"Hallllllp! Guys! C'mere, help me, oh no -"
* Icy. They're cooooooold gloves, Kevin. And they're heading right for ya. *
One of the gloves dipped. Toward his meat. The other aimed for his chest...
* Brrrrrrrr. *
Kevin grabbed a big breath. "Haaaall-"
A ball gag cut the scream off.
The gloves attacked.
The other guys blinked. Confirmed that Kevin was gone.
Needless to say, they fairly ran away from there.
They walked at a good clip. No one said much...
Tim lit another cigarette and relaxed a little more. Then he realized he'd done it. Damn. I just...
On impulse, he looked back at Del. Smoke was trailing behind him too.
Falling back, Tim cleared his throat, and winced, and whispered, "Did it... pump us full of nicotine or something? I don't get why I..." He trailed off, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and looking at it.
Del looked at the ground, watching where his feet went. "Ever have a smoke after Tina fucked ya?"
Tim nodded. Long time ago -
He remembered that feeling. Pleasurable... workout, a victory - and a cigarette topped it off real nice...
After what Zeke had put 'em through -
He looked at Del again. Del was looking at him. "Uh-huh," was all he said.
Tim wasn't sure he understood. He took another drag, and looked at the cigarette in his hand. He wanted to... eat it. Smoke the whole pack, and get started on another. All the packs.
It was like he was way behind in his smokin'. Long overdue.
Well, Zeke must still be running him, somehow. Or a switch had been flipped in his head.
But that might not even be necessary. It was a puzzling need. But not new. Like he'd been holding his breath all weekend, while Zeke fucked with him... and now he wanted to let it out. And it had to be smoky.
And then he got it. Sorta like being fifteen again. Puzzled, hungry. Already hooked. At least a couple Winstons every day, or he got all antsy. Then Fran got his dick wet, and... he had a lot better reason to smoke. Afterward - nothing better.
Zeke had just stimulated his body more than - well, more than it had ever been. Of course he "needed" a cigarette.
A whole lot of cigarettes, as it turned out. Never quite enough smokin'. Almost... but just shy of how much his body craved.
They got back to the cabin. It looked so familiar, and safe, that the relief made Tim's eyes get all watery. He couldn't help it -
" 'scuse me," Del mumbled, blowing past 'em to be the first one inside. The bathroom door slammed.
They walked in and piled their guns in the corner. Jamie landed in an easy chair with a hard sigh. Tim lowered himself, gingerly, onto the couch.
They sat there, not saying anything. In the bathroom, a thumping sound got louder and louder. Del, whose voice was still barely more than a whisper... started to moan. Whispering, that loud.
Jamie and Tim looked at each other. The thumping noise got violent. The wall started to shake -
And Del came, with a shout that blew out his voice for a couple more days.
"Well, I'm not gonna clean that up," Jamie said.
- - 26 - -
Jamie drove the two hours home. Tim was out like a light.
Del dug some old No-Doz out of the glove box and ate five tabs. Then he sat in his van and smoked until they started to kick in.
Tina met them out at the driveway.
"Ssssh. Don't wake the kids," she told Jamie. They were four hours late. She expected it, but it still pissed her off. She walked around the truck and looked at Tim.
Face against the glass, dead to the world. The big goof.
Jamie came and opened the door, catching Tim as he slid. He woke up, all startled.
"Phew!" Tina said. "I expected maybe a cigar or two. But damn. "
"Tina? Aw, Tina..." he said, burying his face in her neck.
"Gotta go," Jamie said unhappily.
"Thanks, Jamie," Tina said.
"We gotta talk, Teen. Right now."
"Okay, smoker. Okay."
They sat in the kitchen, and he told her everything. It took him a pot of coffee and most of a pack.
"Of course I think you're out of your mind," she said, when he pressed for an answer. She batted at an empty box. "Other than this weird thing with the cigarettes... do you have any other evidence?"
"No," he said finally. He put his smoke between his teeth, and pulled up his shirt. "Wait. It shaved us -"
She made a shocked noise.
"What?"
"Your stomach." She reached out -
He flinched. "Uh, not yet. Okay?"
She nodded, staring at his belly -
At his six-pack. Pretty well-defined abs there.
"Haven't seen that in a long time," she said, trying to make a joke. "If ever."
He pulled his shirt off. Bigger arms, pecs.
He was buff.
She looked him over. Kept blinking. Then she stared him down. She looked scared. "You... no. No way you could've have done this... in a weekend."
"Nope," Tim said, with a little grin.
They agreed she'd take her kids to see her folks. Just until they saw what happened...
But he knew she was really spooked. And why not. He might've finally come home with The Last Straw.
He called in sick on Monday. Screw it, he might not be working there much longer, anyway. Carole said Jamie had come in and quit. No notice or anything.
"Uh-huh," Tim said, lighting a smoke off the last one.
Del quit too, but his boss talked him into staying on 'til the current job was done. Thursday, tops.
He brought home a couple extra boxes of cigars and a case of JD. Had it out with Lucy. She packed and left. He liked her well enough, but he couldn't fuck anybody yet. Too embarrassed. And that didn't go with his ever-ready, bulletproof reputation...
He didn't even go to the bar. Sat at home that week, still fighting to believe they weren't still caught, except when the other guys came over.
They argued for hours. Always ran into a dead end.
"What the hell else are we gonna do?" Jamie said, more than once.
Tina got on Tim's case, so he smoked outside.
He stood on the back porch, looking toward the northeast, and got the pack out again. Last one. No more Avengers.
Kevin's lighter was out of fluid, too. So he got out some matches and lit up, and got in his truck. Came back with a bottle of fluid and a carton of Camels...
And a box of cigars.
Shelia's hands were always running all over him. Certain wild memories made it impossible for Jamie to fuck her properly.
So he called a time out. Hey, babe, maybe we need a little time apart, figure out what we really want out of this...
It worked. She was hitting on truckers within a few days.
Jamie had gotten tired of her anyway.
"We don't go get it, it's gonna start a fire, get free without us," Del muttered. "And I don't want it fuckin' pissed. Huntin' us..."
Friday rolled around. Jamie was seeing if Matt was at the bar.
Del hoped he wasn't. Maybe he'd get a flat tire. Sign that little fucker Kevin up for another week.
Matt finally strolled in around midnight.
Jamie had to talk fast... but he set the hook good.
Tim was still up when Del's van pulled in the drive. He walked over. Jamie gave him a nod, and he nodded back.
"Anything?" Del said. Hopefully, for him.
Tim sighed.
"We can't do this," Jamie said quietly. He bounced back and forth. Gotta do it, can't do it.
"I don't see any other choice," Tim told 'em. "I really wish I did."
Del looked at him with big eyes. He was not looking forward to Zeke comin' to town. Neither was Tim.
"Maybe it'll get bored with us. Soon."
Jamie met Del and Matt at the truck stop. They had breakfast.
Del drove out first, to the cabin, and started to hike. Smoking hard, as he did.
Jamie wiggled a baggie in front of Matt... and they got stoned behind a hangar at the airport.
Tim drove to the cabin, and started walking.
Del got to the clearing first, and fought with some serious fear. He wanted to run, so bad. Didn't think it would work. He'd spent five days trying to come up with a way to disappear. But Zeke, the fucker, it had too much of a leg up on 'em, with all that technology. They could be bugged and not even know it.
There was no surefire way out.
He had another cigar. Zeke had put a wide ring around the trap door. Metal. Del didn't know why...
And then he thought he heard the 'copter.
They circled around a couple times...
And Matt eased it on down, reminding his passenger to keep his head down when he got out.
Jamie didn't waste any time. Matt watched him, shaking his head. Maybe they'd be off the hook, after this. He cut the engine.
* Here we go, * Del thought to Tim, who'd just arrived.
Maybe... we dreamed it, Jamie thought desperately. Made the whole thing up.
Matt stepped down, coolly taking in the sights.
"Huh," he said. Looking at the ring. He squatted and knocked on it.
"Who is it?" Zeke said. Loud. It echoed -
They all looked around wildly.
Matt slumped over.
A box appeared next to the ring. Grey metal, maybe the size of a ten big car batteries.
As they watched, it floated to the chopper. The back hatch opened...
Then they saw the inside of the ring drop - and eventually, Kevin's head appeared.
Del was hiking back to the cabin. He puffed smoke, and rubbed his neck. It hurt, for some reason, but he didn't remember why.
The roadhouse, and a top-heavy slut... that's what he needed.
Jamie followed behind a little, half-carrying Kevin.
Tim got to the cabin first. He was ordered to drive back to the road... and park next to it where it widened near the river.
He smoked a couple before the helicopter arrived.. and parked on the road.
Matt signalled him to duck and come to the pilot's door. He had a wild grin, and demanded a cigarette. He opened the back hatch-door.
Then, "How are we gonna lift this thing? Well, check it out."
The damn thing floated, all by itself, to Tim's truck bed.
He drove home carefully.
Jamie woke up Saturday night in his bed, with a monster hangover.
Kevin made it home, too. He slept for a long time.
Matt snored in Tim's basement. Tim didn't know - he'd gotten drunk and passed out in his own bed. They were unaware that his living room was filling up with... machinery.
And it kept growing. Swelling up, creating new little boxes...
When Tim finally staggered up to his feet -
The stairs were blocked off. Grey metal.
There was a bunch of food sitting at the base of the new wall.
And his cigars.
He didn't want to, but he called Tina and filled her in on the changes to the house. The conversation didn't go well.
Tim laid around and watched TV. Smoked in bed. Tina would've gotten after him for that. It was a cheap thrill.
After a while he felt like eating something, so he did. Tim couldn't quite remember why the stairwell was blocked off. He heard the back door open now and then. And the basement door.
He wasn't too worried. This seemed like a really good thing to worry about, too...
But Baywatch came on right then, so he punched up the pillows and got himself another cigar.
The next morning, Tim vaguely realized he was expected at work.
The wall was still there, blocking the stairs. Good thing their bedroom was on the ground level...
As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about the house. Not for a while.
At the end of the day, he suddenly resigned. It sure came as a surprise to the owner - and to Tim, too. But it felt right.
Kevin drove back from Missoula, smoking one after the other.
He couldn't believe it. And it still hurt...
What the hell was he thinking? There was a big blank spot in what he remembered...
And then he was grinning at himself in a mirror. With a cigarette -
And a tattoo. He was looking at a big ol' tattoo on his arm. Mirror-image in a tattoo parlor, those little designs all over the wall.
A big metal Z, in red. With a bigger shiny black glove behind it. Criss-crossed black straps, with feathers at the corners.
Kevin had no idea why... Where'd he even get the money? His mom was gonna shit.
He pulled into his parking space and went to his apartment.
As soon as he closed the door -
"Oh no," he said. Felt it. Here.
Not fair. He'd just gotten up. After Zeke tickled the fuck outa him for a week...
His room.
There was a big fur bed. With straps -
And a layer of something clear covered the walls. Over the window, the floor. Ceiling. Thick glass, maybe.
Kevin whimpered.
A hand shoved him. The door closed.
Zeke chuckled at him.
* Hey, Kev. My tat turned out right nice. *
His clothes disappeared.
And the cuffs were there instead. In his room.
Next thing he knew, he was strapped down.
He started to tug. "Help! Haalllllllllpp..."
* No sounds are getting through these walls, Kevin. *
The walls darkened. Jet black.
* Time for another week, hoss. With me. Gotta let the ink set first, so you don't sweat it off... *
A bottle of Jack Daniels appeared. A real bottle.
* So I guess you're gonna have to kill some time. Get... shitfaced. Smoke a couple packs. *
"Nooooooo..."
* Oh yeah, * Zeke laughed, low and mean. * And then... *
Tim was already tied down when he woke up.
* Tim! Smart guy. Real deep thinker. *
* Dammit all to hell, * he yelled, twisting around. He was in a... cellar, maybe. Not his. Fur under him again. Seemed like yesterday, when he w-
Then he saw a cigar - instantly there, between his teeth. He puffed on it tentatively.
* There ya go. * A glove appeared, and grabbed his hand. Shook it heartily. * I owe you guys. I'm out and about. *
"Just great," he said.
* So I asked myself, I said, Zeke, how can you show these boys your undying gratitude? Make them just about as happy as you are, right now? *
* You could move to New York City. That'd do. *
A dozen oily gloves appeared.
* Show them how... exciting it'll be, having you right in town? * The hands started down - and stopped short. * I got it! A week of outrageous tickling! *
The cigar went away.
"No, aw - don't. Don't, Zeke. You wouldn't d-"
The gloves pounced.
Del was in a good mood. A chick at Pinky's had led him out back for a quickie. Leaning against the propane tank. Making it ring.
He let himself in the house -
And suddenly... it wasn't his house anymore.
Big fur bed. Stone walls. He turned quick -
Bars. Laid right over the door. He grabbed 'em and reefed. They stayed put.
Strong hands got his wrists and got 'em behind his back. They were quick. One pulled his arm up a little further, and he grunted in pain.
A cigar pushed between his teeth. Not one of his. It was fatter... and smooth. Expensive.
The hands turned him around. Made him walk -
* Heya. Punk. *
He tried to sidestep, to back up - and more hands clamped on. Pushed him forward.
Made him sit on the bed. Del tried everything he could think of, but the hands kept slamming him back.
Some of 'em lifted his leg. Stuck it out. Took his boot off, real slow.
He couldn't stand it. Not ever again. Not already -
His other boot went. The invisible hands pulled him back, spread out his limbs -
And his clothes were gone.
Leather cuffs were on him again. Tight straps.
Zeke chuckled slowly. * You're fucked now. Got one ticklish badass punk cuffed down. On fur. Where he belongs. *
A bunch of white gloves blinked into view.
* I'm building a much better jail for you, punk. But this'll work for now... *
The gloves started down. He kicked uselessly. Some were going right for his feet.
* Nice private holding cell for some ticklish biker trash. One long week - *
"Week?" he yelled, forgetting to squirm.
* Zeke's gonna keep you bugshit. Right on this fine mink bed... for a whole entire week. *
"Fuuuuuccccckk!" Del screamed -
But the gloves were already tickling away. Solid, hopeless satin.
He whooped, and flailed a couple more times...
Then he roared. Real loud, real hard.
Jamie got out of the Jeep and shut the door. He lit a cigarette as he walked up to the cabin -
He stopped in his tracks. Smoking a cigarette? And where did he get a Jeep?
And a log cabin. No lights anywhere. Wh-
A rope lassoed his wrist, and pulled tight.
Crackling fire. Felt good, after riding into a cold rain for a good hour.
He was Jimbo Macgruder, and he'd been punching for the Square-W outfit, south of Deer Lodge, for three years. Took a ride up to the bank in Lincoln, and stopped off in Helmville. Not due back for three days, and money in his pocket... So he set out for Garnet. One of the boys swore up and down that Jezzie was there.
And she was. She remembered him. Gave him three whole pokes. Wait'll they hear! And he still had two dollars and forty cents. He picked his way back up the range, a satisified man. Came down an easy rise and fell clean off Prince. Or was roped, more likely - the way he jerked straight back...
And here he was, lyin' by a fire inside a cabin. Jimbo was amazed anybody lived up here. He looked down, and saw his boots were off. And that warn't no easy task. He reached down for 'em.
Only he didn't sit up. He tried again -
Hey. His arms were pulled up.
Some durn fool had wrapped a set of reins around each wrist, and hooked the main rings on two hitch-hooks. He couldn't believe it. Then he kicked -
Same thing, down there. He was all spread out. Jimbo started to tug, just in case they was old reins. Well, if that don't beat all. Laid down on a bearskin rug and staked there.
Had he been insensible? Hit his head on a rock? Maybe this was a doctor's cabin. But he didn't remember havin' no fever... Prince would be okay, if the bobcats didn't get him. He hoped not.
He pulled at the reins a while longer. "Hey," he said. Then he started yellin' it. He couldn't remember no cabin on the pass. Well, Jimbo, you're in a pickle. A day- and-a-half ride from home. Better part of a day west of where you're supposed to be... Nobody came when he yelled. He broke a fine sweat, especially under his chaps. What kind of a fool would up and leave him here?
He noticed something. To his left, on the floor there. Bottles. Maybe whiskey in 'em. Four full bottles. Gosh. He lifted his head. There was a box of cigars there, too. Whose place was this?
Something moved. Jimbo looked again -
A cigar was floating! Of all things. It picked itself right up out of the box and came his way. He was so flustered he forgot to open his mouth. Then he perked up a little and looked for the feller's hand. But there warn't none!
Jimbo bit off the end and spat it toward the fire. The cigar turned around, and settled between his teeth. He nipped it. Seemed like a good one, and not all dried out neither. He saw a long splinter of lodgepole pick up and poke itself into the fire, then come over. He got his smoke going, and watched the splinter jump into the flames. This was the strangest night he could recollect. Maybe he was dreaming.
But he puffed a few times. That cigar was surely real. He pulled on the reins a while. Called out - shoot, somebody had to be there, pickin' up the b-
One of the bottles moved. The cork was being pulled out, rocking a little side to side.
"Ho there," Jimbo said, plumb confused.
His cigar came out, like somebody gave it a tug. It sat there, over his kerchief, and the bottle picked itself up. This was funny...
He picked his head up real high, and the bottle poured slow. Kept feedin' it to him, even more than he would've drunk. And it set down. The cigar came back. And still no sign o' anybody around!
He smoked for a while, and looked at the fire. That was good whiskey, too. Made him feel right...
If he was havin' a real wild fever-dream, he sure hoped Jezzie would be in it.
After a while, a log went up from the pile, like it was on a piece of twine. Pretty as you please. Big ol' log... set right in the fire, wiggled so it wouldn't roll.
Then Jimbo saw a can. It set down by his feet. He cocked his head - why, it looked like his feet were all shiny. He hadn't burned 'em. Now who would go and grease up his dogs like th-
A glove. He was lookin' at a black hand. 'Cept there warn't no arm behind it. No hand in there. What in tarnation?
It came down to the can. And more, too. There were four gloves, gettin' something out of the can - lard, or maybe butter - and rubbin' each other down. They were black, so it made sense he would'na seen 'em if they stayed away from the fire. Looked sturdy enough. No good for work, but maybe for some gambler. Or a bandit.
"What's the grease for, boys?" Jimbo said, and he puffed on his cigar.
Well, they went and showed him!
He woke up from a bad dream...
And looked at whiskey bottles. One empty...six full.
Jimbo tried to get up. The reins were still keepin' him down. He could not believe what... what had happened here.
And now there were six full bottles. He swore there weren't that many yesterday. Not... another six days?
A pan floated on down. Stewed muskrat. Jimbo gobbled it up.
And then he got another cigar. He tried with all his might to bust the reins. But they had him stretched out just too far. The rug under him was damp. He'd wet himself, and... the other. But it looked to have been cleaned up.
All the rest of his clothes had plumb disappeared. He laid there like a newborn babe... smokin' on a cigar.
Another whiskey bottle opened, and came up to him.
They couldn't do that to him again. Rubbin' him like that -
But the gloves showed up after a spell, with a new can of grease.
Yup, they did it to him again. They rubbed him all up and down. Even his noodle. Now, who'd do that to a cowpoke? He never hurt nobody...
Instead, he roared his fool head off. And when that didn't make him feel any better, the cigars kept coming...
And he woke up on his belly. Still wearin' the reins.
No cigar, that day. The whiskey was poured into a little cup, and dribbled into him slow-like.
The gloves came and rubbed his backside. They really went at it. No joshin' around.
Then they had him strapped to a chair.
That was a long, long night...
Jimbo rolled...
His wrists were wrapped up, all right. And cinched to his ankles. His arms were stuck, right outside his knees, and all he could do was roll around a little.
They couldn't rub him again. They just couldn't.
But after a smoke, and some whiskey... here they are. Back to rub some more.
He was on his belly again.
Oh no. Oh no, no...
And it was as bad as the other days. They were mean cusses. Never just set a spell and rested...
And - it was plumb intolerable - strapped down on his back again.
He was fresh out of things to compare it to.
There were a whole lot of new whiskey bottles. And another cigar box.
Snow was drifted halfway up the window. But he got fed, and had a smoke whenever he could keep a hold on one. And there seemed to be no end to the firewood.
And the cans of grease.
The dadburn gloves, rubbin' him. All night.
Ag'in.
On to Part 8
05sep2001