I scan the paper for things we need. Several things come to mind, like tools to fix the door and all the squeaks and loose hinges on the cabinets. Mattresses, bedding, towels, dishes, pots and pans, a garbage can—all of the stuff ya take for granted when they’re available, but absolutely miss when ya don’t have them. I really want a television, too.
I want cable so I can catch some ESPN and maybe watch some baseball or, shoot, anythin’ to do with sports. It makes me feel human to just watch a game. I even got Zee into watchin’ some sport shows, like golf. At first, Zee had been skeptical as to why anyone would want to hit a small ball into a little hole, but when I took him to the indoor drivin’ range, he quickly became hooked on it. I had to warn him not to break the 500-yard sign with his ball. I also had to tell him that humans would find it scary if he got a hole-in-one on every hole, so when he does get a chance to shoot a round, he should make sure to miss a few times. I miss him. I miss havin’ someone besides Red to ask questions about what’s happenin’ to me.
After dusk, we start our surveillance on the Mattress Carnival, a store in town that sells all kinds of beds and beddin’. “Why do ya suppose they call it a Mattress Carnival?” I ask Red offhandedly, as we sit in the car in the parkin’ lot eatin’ the apples and grapes she packed in a small cooler she had bought at the grocery store.
“Maybe they want you to think it’s as fun as a party buying a mattress here,” she replies as a lame explanation.
“Yeah, but carnivals always make me think of clowns and clowns are really kinda freaky, so I really don’t want to buy a mattress here ‘cuz it makes me think of havin’ a clown in my bed.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Red is laughin’ so hard I think she is not gonna be able to breathe. “Wut?” I ask, smilin’ at her, lovin’ every second of her laughter. “Y’all like clowns in yer bed or somethin’?” I ask her in a soft tone, and tears form at the corners of her eyes ‘cuz she can’t stop laughin’.
“Russell, stop,” she says, tryin’ to regain her breath. She can’t look at me for a second ‘cuz every time she tries, she loses it again.
Finally, she pulls it together after takin’ several shallow sips of water and wipin’ her eyes. “Maybe they want you to think of havin’ an acrobat in your bed,” she replies when she can talk.
“Naw,” I shake my head. “I can’t get past the scary clown image. It’s givin’ me the creeps.” She rolls her eyes at me. “So, what kind of beds are we gettin’?” I ask her as casually as I can.
“I don’t need much. A single mattress and box springs will do for me. The advertisement said they will give us a free metal frame with the purchase of a mattress and box springs,” she says, lookin’ at me. “But you need at least a double bed, don’t you? I hope they have a longer mattress in stock for you,” she says with concern as she looks at my long frame.
“Don’t worry too much, Red. I’m used to my feet hangin’ off the end of the bed.”
“We can probably get you a queen, and then you can sleep diagonally on it so your feet don’t hang off,” she says, thinkin’ ’bout me.
“That might work,” I reply, thinkin’ we should just get one big king size bed and share it, but I don’t say that out loud ‘cuz she is laughin’ for the first time since we left Crestwood and I’m not ’bout to ruin that. “I’m comin’ in this time. Those mattress salesmen are a little suspect,” I continue, watchin’ the salesmen millin’ ‘round the front of the store, waitin’ for the next customer to come in.
“I think I can handle the mattress salesmen,” Red says, lookin’ at me.
“I know, but if I’m there they won’t try anythin’ ‘cuz I look tougher than y’all, even though y’all can whip us hands down,” I say soothingly.
She doesn’t argue with me, but continues to watch the storefront, pickin’ out subtle hints in the people’s body language. She lets me know which bed each of the people like the most as they walk ‘round the store. She is dead on with everyone. She also points out that the women mostly get their way on the bed selection, when shoppin’ as couples. I laugh and say, “Red, that’s a no-brainer.”
Her eyebrow arches in question. “What do you mean?” she asks, lookin’ at me and smilin’
“Guys don’t really care what the bed looks like. We just care ’bout what’s gonna be in the bed,” I explain.
“You mean who is going to be in the bed with you when you’re sleeping?” she asks for clarification as she blushes a little. Lord, she is so naïve. It kills me. I’m sure she knows I am talkin’ ’bout sex, but since she hasn’t had any yet, in this lifetime anyway, she really doesn’t have the frame of reference to talk ’bout it. “Can I ask you something, Russell?” Red inquires. The question is impulsive ’cuz she bites her lip after she asks it.
Intrigued, I say, “Sure.”
She shakes her head. “No, forget it,” she says, and she is quiet.
“Ah, ya can’t do that, Lillian! Y’all will drive me crazy,” I smile, usin’ her fake name to see if it will spark her into askin’ her question.
It works ‘cuz she turns to me tentatively and asks, “Why Candace?”
I think ’bout her question for a while, tryin’ to see if I can explain why I had dated Candace after Red had told me she was datin’ Reed our first semester at Crestwood. I know what she is askin’ me really. Candace is a very pretty girl and she wants to know if that is why I had been with her.
“Well, I was attracted to Candace, I’m not gonna lie. She’s easy to look at in that All-American beauty sort of way,” I say, watchin’ Red for her reaction. She is tryin’ to play it cool so I go on. “I guess there were several reasons I was with her. I could point out all of her physical attributes, but that wasn’t really why I picked her,” I explain as I see Red react a little to what I’m sayin’. She seems to flush a little, like she’s gettin’ irritated with me.
“Why did you pick her, Russell? She is one of the meanest people I have ever met in my entire life,” she says, tryin’ to keep her emotions in line.
“She’s mostly only mean to you, Red, ‘cuz she doesn’t like anyone who is more beautiful than she is,” I reply, and smile when I see her scowl at me. Red didn’t believe me when I said she is more beautiful than Candace, but she is. Hands down. No contest. “Naw, before ya say anythin’ hear me out. I was with Candace ‘cuz I knew that I didn’t love her.”
“What! Why would you be with someone you don’t love?” she asks, like I’m sick or somethin’.
“’Cuz I couldn’t be with the girl I love,” I murmur. When she closes her mouth I add, “And, I knew that Candace didn’t love me either. I knew that she wouldn’t be very hurt when she figured out that I didn’t love her ‘cuz she only really loves herself. I didn’t want to pick someone who would be hurt when they found out I couldn’t care about them like that ‘cuz I’ll always love someone else.”
“What’s wrong with being alone until you find someone else you can love?” she asks me quietly, like there is someone else out there for me.
“There is no one else,” I say flatly.
“How do you know?” she counters, and I can hear the thinness in her voice when she asks her question.
“’Cuz I’ve lived for thousands of years and it has only ever been you, Red. Just you,” I reply darkly.
“Well, of course it’s been just me,” she argues. “Because you’re stupid and pick people like Candace when you’re not with me. If you picked someone nicer and capable of love, you might find out that I’m not the only entity in the universe you can love,” she says all huffy, and I am surprised that she is so pissed off about it.
“Maybe. You’ll have to give me back my heart, and then maybe I can try again,” I say softly.
“How do I do that?” she asks with a sad look.
“I don’t know,” I answer her honestly.
Red is quiet as I sit thinkin’ ’bout what she said while we watch the Mattress Carnival employees walkin’ people through the stor
e. Red makes a few comments ’bout the bald guy bein’ the best salesman to go to ‘cuz he’s the quickest when the decision on a bed is made. He wastes no time gatherin’ the stock from the back and havin’ someone load it in the car for the customers.
“Red. Can I ask ya a question?” I ask, continuin’ to watch the bald man run ‘round the store, gatherin’ up things for the customer. He is quick; I’ll give her that.
“Huh?” she ask absently, but I’m not fooled ‘cuz I see the way she sits up a little at my question.
“What’s yer nightmare ’bout?” I ask, while seein’ immediately that she doesn’t like my question, since she bites her lower lip again.
“Which one?” she counters, not lookin’ at me.
“How ’bout y’all tell me ’bout the one ya had the first night we got here. That one should be extremely significant,” I say, watchin’ the neon sign make her face glow red, and then yellow as it flashes the alternatin’ light on her through the front window.
“I don’t think that one is real. I think that one has to be some kind of nightmare, not a premonition,” she says quickly.
“Why do you say that?” I probe.
“Because of all the weird stuff in it,” she replies in a calm tone. She really wants to believe that, but whether she does or not is another story.
“Weird stuff? Yer gonna have to be more specific ‘cuz everythin’ we talk ’bout is weird,” I point out, askin’ her to elaborate.
“Okay, you want me to clarify? Here it is. I’m being carried through a chamber that is right out of some Arthurian Tale. I’m in a massive hall with several rows of Corinthian columns, you know, the really ornate ones and they are carved out of the same dark gray stone that surrounds the room. The ceiling is cavernous, but the only sources of light are coming from several massive stone fireplaces carved into the walls. The fireplaces are big enough to walk into and not have to duck your head and there is light from the candlelight chandeliers that hang from the ceilings.
She’s not lookin’ at me ‘cuz she seems to be there, in the place she’s describin’ to me. “There is something about the walls of the place. They have a tarnished green color to them that is like limestone, but different… and there is a sweet smell that I don’t recognize,” she adds. I watch her touch the window of the car like it was the wall of the room she is describin’, and then I see her shiver. “Its very beautiful here in a ‘welcome to Merlin’s House’ kind of way. I mean very, very, surreal,” she says, lookin’ ‘round like she’s not lookin’ at the car at all.
“Is it night or day?” I ask, tryin’ to process what she is sayin’.
“I have no idea. There are no windows,” she replies.
“You said yer bein’ carried?” I prompt her.
“Yeah. I’m puttin’ up a big fight, but I’m bound up so it’s not working out so well for me,” she says. I see goose bumps risin’ on her arms and my wings move sharply inside my back.
I squeeze my eyes shut in concentration, tryin’ to calm my rapid pulse. “Wait a sec. Don’t tell me anymore,” I say, knowin’ that if I don’t manage to calm down, I will be kissin’ the steerin’ wheel ‘cuz my wings will fly outta my back. I take a couple of deep breaths, tryin’ to relax. When I think I can handle it again, I open my eyes and say, “Okay, go on.”
“There is not a whole lot more to tell. I’m shoved into an ornately carved chair in front of what can only be described as a mediaeval conference table and it looks like we are waiting for someone,” she says with some bravado. It makes me frown ‘cuz I think she’s doin’ it for my benefit so I can continue to control my wings from flyin’ out of my back.
“You said ‘they.’ Who are they?” I ask, grindin’ my teeth.
“I don’t know—they are really strong and fast—angel fast,” she replies, like she is rememberin’ somethin’ that hasn’t happened… yet.
“Shit! I was hopin’ for dumb ass human bad guys,” I say, feelin’ frustrated. “So they’re angels. Fallen or Divine?” I ask, holdin’ my breath. I don’t know why it matters; both kinds will get us killed deader than dead.
She doesn’t answer me. She looks confused. “I’m sorry, Russell, I have no idea,” she says plainly.
“You don’t know if they’re Fallen or Divine?” I ask.
“No… I don’t know if they’re angels,” she says slowly, and then my head hits the steerin’ wheel hard when my wings drive me forward.
After we establish all of the mundane necessities, like openin’ a bank account and gettin’ a couple of beds and beddin’, we move on to checkin’ out the town. We do a lot of recon on places we would like to go to in the future, like the library and the college campus. We are lookin’ for angels, specifically Powers or Fallen, but either we suck at recon, or this town just isn’t somethin’ they are into ‘cuz after bein’ extremely cautious for three weeks, we don’t turn up any enemies.
Things in Houghton have died down since we arrived ‘cuz a lot of the students from the school went home for the summer break. There are a sprinklin’ of tourists, which helps me blend in a little ‘cuz of my accent, but for the most part, Red has accomplished what she had set out to do. She has found us a safe, borin’ town in which to exist for a while. All of this should be a good thing, but the less danger we seem to be in, the more despondent she is becomin’.
We locate a place to train. It’s a secluded clearin’ a couple of miles off the Nara Nature Trail. It is very beautiful terrain, like what I expect a wild sort of Heaven to look like. There are rollin’ hills that shoulder thick stands of enormous trees and a rapidly flowin’ stream that is still carryin’ the icy cold water from the hills above. Some of the trees are in full bloom; the dogwoods and the redbuds each compete with one another to be more impressive. There are also thick stands of lilac bushes burstin’ with color and their scent is unbelievable. The open field that we found is dotted with wild flowers that poke their heads out above the long grass. It would make a decent postcard, if I had anyone I was allowed to send it to.
“C’mon,” I say in a low voice in Red’s ear as she picks up another marble and places it in the sling I had made for her. “I know ya can do this. Ya just have to focus on the target,” I coach her, havin’ just demonstrated several different ways to use the sling I made for her from some leather scrap pieces and heavy string. We are startin’ off by usin’ marbles for ammunition. Maybe I should’ve started off by usin’ golf balls, I tell myself as I see the marble fall out of the cradle of leather on Red’s second swing.
Red groans in frustration.
“All right, listen, yer really strong, so y’all only need one swing. Y’all can pick any swing yer comfortable with, the overhead, underhand, side—or I know, watch this one; it’s an overhead swing that’s kinda like a figure eight. I like this one ‘cuz it gains the most momentum,” I pull a marble from the hundreds I had bought at the dollar store in town. I demonstrate the swing and hit the target I had set up over a hundred yards away. The tin can all but explodes when the marble penetrates it. A slow smile touches my lips. It’s so much easier to do that with my improved eyesight.
I’m able to see things far away now with no problem. I woke up a week ago and the apartment, which we have spent a considerable amount of time cleanin’, looked even dirtier than it normally did. I told Red about it and she immediately knew what I was talkin’ about. She looked relieved that I now have angel sight, like she had been frettin’ about it or somethin’. I guess she is worried about bein’ able to protect me.
I made her go out with me that night, so I could walk ‘round under the stars. It’s like I can touch ‘em now ‘cuz they seem so much closer and it’s mad cool to be able to see everythin’ in the dark. I had to reason with myself that I couldn’t just reach up and pull Heaven down to me.
Now I can see all of the pollen in the air, floatin’ on the breeze and gently dustin’ everythin’ with its essence. Red watches me with a sour look on her face. “Wut?” I ask, but c
an’t hide my smugness from her. I have finally found somethin’ I am better at than she is. Sucks huh? I think, pickin’ up another marble and doin’ it again in a blink of an eye.
“Nice one, Hank. Let’s try Bruce Lee now,” she says in exasperation.
We had purchased a used television out of the paper and bought a crappy DVD player so we could get stuff that might be able to teach us somethin’ ’bout fightin’. Red is particularly good at emulatin’ Bruce Lee moves, ah let’s be honest, she makes Bruce seem like a little girl. She’s more Japanese animae than martial arts. The things that she can do only exist in the cartoon realm.
“Naw, Red. I want ya to learn how to do this. This is the easiest weapon y’all can fashion in a pinch,” I explain, frustrated with her ‘cuz she doesn’t even seem interested in this.
“Why can’t I just pick up a rock and throw it at my enemy?” she asks with her bad attitude showin’.
“‘Cuz yer enemy is wicked-fast and y’all will need the extra velocity that the sling will provide to nail them,” I reply, watchin’ her holdin’ the sling negligently with her hand on one of her hips and her leg cocked out to the side. She is as mean as a snake lately. I know its ‘cuz she’s hurtin’. She is always tryin’ to retreat inside herself and hide behind the little wall she has created. I won’t let her stay behind that wall for long ‘cuz it makes me nervous to see her sittin’ ‘round just starin’ into space like she doesn’t exist anymore. “If ya have nothin’ else, y’all just need to find a bit of fabric ya can punch a hole in on both sides. Then, ya just put a string on one side that’s a little longer than yer forearm and another one on the opposite side,” I say, demonstratin’ how I made the slings. “Y’all will be able to throw those marbles probably faster than if ya shot them out of a gun,” I retort a little meaner than I probably should, but she is pissin’ me off.
Intuition: The Premonition Series Page 22
