by Sandy Nathan
The paramedics looked at him with terror. “Hey, stay calm, man.” The other guy scrambled for another syringe.
Leroy scanned the interior of the vehicle. This was as much quiet as he was going to get for a while. He grabbed the paramedics by the throats.
“You’re going to take a nap,” he said. They fell onto the side benches, out cold.
Leroy closed his eyes, balancing against his father’s gurney. He went into a healing trance at once. Placing one hand on his father’s chest above his heart and the other on his abdomen, Leroy explored his father’s injuries. He had so many that Leroy could hardly count them. His breastbone was fractured. The collarbone on one side was broken; so many ribs were busted that he could only guess the number. His spine was bruised; the big bone on the top of one leg broken. His nose. Cheekbone. His skull wasn’t cracked, but his brain had been banged around inside it.
And then the soft tissue injuries revealed themselves. Collapsed lung. Leroy gave up exploring and started healing. As he healed, his face took on a blissful expression. The healer that he was shone. He moved his hands, running them over his father, and occasionally reaching inside his body to fix something that spiritual power alone wouldn’t heal. But it wasn’t enough. He was losing; death was taking he father faster than he could heal him.
Leroy’s healing powers had manifested when he was very young, the legacy of his mother and grandfather. They were more powerful than he was. He needed a burst of their power, now.
“Oh, mama, it’s Leroy. I need your help. Please help me.” Leroy turned his soul toward his grandpa, “Grandpa, I need you. My dad’s gonna die if I don’t get help. I know you and he don’t get along much, but he’s been good to me. Please help him.”
Leroy didn’t know what happened. He was overtaken and his soul enlarged. The blue light that had come out of his eyes covered him like a luminous blanket. It covered all of him, ran down his hands and into his daddy and shone out of him, too. It covered the paramedics. Leroy smiled. Done with healing his father’s injuries, Leroy went to work on his papa’s arthritis. He’d get rid of it for good. Finally, he sat back.
His daddy was healed, asleep on the gurney. He’d let him sleep for a while, then they could get in their camper and head on home. Leroy sagged. Healing could be exhausting; he was already worn out from the rodeo.
Leroy partially roused the paramedics. “Everything’s fine. My father’s fine. You don’t have to do anything but clean him off,” Leroy instructed their deepest minds. “Keep those doctors away. They’ll kill him.”
They nodded, entranced.
“Remember, no doctors. Wake up now!” He snapped his fingers.
The rear doors of the van flew open. A half dozen guys in green coats grabbed his daddy and hauled him away.
“Stop! He doesn’t need anything.” They rolled his pop down the hall. “Where are you taking him?” Leroy wailed, running after the gurney. A bunch of orderlies turned him back at swinging doors.
“The surgeon will talk to you when he’s done.”
“He doesn't need surgery …” It was no use. A half-dozen burly male nurses got between him and the door cordoning off the operating rooms.
“Come on, buddy. You don’t have to run off with him again. We got him.”
Were they going to cut his daddy to pieces trying to find something wrong with him? Nothing was wrong with him. Leroy could have howled. For a moment, he considered blowing up the men blocking his way. He decided that wasn’t smart and his powers probably wouldn’t work, anyway.
A nurse walked up to the men, waving her hand to shoo them off. “This nice young man isn’t going to do anything. He’s going to sit here and wait for his father.” The nurses walked away.
She said kindly, “They’re going to take good care of your dad, son. Your father will be fine. The surgeons will fix him. You wait here.” She took him to the surgical waiting room.
The room seemed vast, with shiny metal chairs with turquoise seats arranged in rows. Leroy was still splattered with dead bull an inch thick. He looked like he belonged in the surgery instead of the waiting room.
A child sitting with her mother looked at him with bug eyes. She clung to her mom. Her eyes grew misty, then shut tight. Then the girl let loose like a fire engine, filling the room with terror. Several other children saw Leroy and started wailing.
A new nurse came over. “Sir, you’re scaring the children. You need to leave or get cleaned off.”
“I don’t have any other clothes. My daddy …” He waved toward the surgery.
“Come with me.”
She took him to a shower room. “This is where the doctors clean up. Sneak in there and take a shower. Clean scrubs are in the in cubbies along the wall.”
He went back into the waiting room wearing green surgical scrubs, a matching hat tied on his head, and a mask over his face. Hopefully that would be enough camouflage. He looked up at the TV.
The bedlam at the Thomas & Mack was raging, then replays of him with blue beams coming out of his eyes. The media caught it all. Naked people were streaking through the parking lot. The stations filmed them, but placed opaque little squares where they needed to. Announcers whose faces could have been made of plastic discussed Leroy’s crimes. “The authorities are searching for terrorist ties and radical associations.”
13
MY GOD, IT’S NILES SWANNE
“Wake up! I am FBI special agent Austin Zemsky. You are under arrest.”
Leroy jerked awake in the waiting room. The sky outside was navy blue. Guys in black uniforms were all over. Someone was waving a badge under his nose.
“You’re under arrest for terrorism and treason––and attempted murder …”
The guy kept going on about things he supposedly had done. He had it all wrong.
“Everything you say can and will be used against you … You have the right to an attorney … Do you understand your rights?”
“Where’s my daddy?”
“Who’s your daddy? Oh, yes, the rodeo clown. I don’t know where he is.” Austin’s demeanor said that he thought Leroy Sr. was probably dead.
“Can you have someone check and see how he is?”
“That can be used against you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Austin. We all saw what happened to his daddy. Somebody go find out how the man is!” Leroy looked at the stranger gratefully. “I’m Sheriff Rodriquez.” The Sheriff gazed at him for a long moment, first looking angry, then softening his gaze. “You sure are a good bulldogger. And your tie-down roping isn’t bad either.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The sheriff shook his head as though trying to knock bull remnants off of it. “This sure has been one hell of a fucked up day,” the sheriff burst out with. “I’ve been thinking about doing things I never would have thought in my life … Sorry, son. It’s just a fucked up day.”
“Yes, sir, it certainly has been a …” Leroy never swore, but his shoulders dropped and his eyes filled. “I sure wish I knew how my daddy is.”’
“He’s fine,” a nurse ran in after being in some subterranean part of the hospital. “He came out of surgery fine.”
“He didn’t need surgery. You didn’t need to cut on him.”
She looked at Leroy sternly. “Listen young man, if a surgeon says you need surgery, you need surgery.”
A tense and crabby-looking man dressed in scrubs entered the waiting room. He nodded at Zemsky and approached Leroy. “Your father’s fine. He didn’t need surgery. I sure as hell would like to know why not, because I saw those rodeo tapes, and he should be dead. We’re keeping him overnight to see if we can figure out why he’s alive.” The doctor seemed to be extremely annoyed that Leroy Sr. had lived. “It doesn’t make sense. What happened in that ambulance? How did you heal him? And what were the blue beams?”
Zemsky jumped forward. “That is classified information, doctor. Give your report regarding the injured bullfighter to …” Zemsky looked around and f
ocused on a sheriff’s deputy, “him.”
The surgeon stood with a hauteur only possessed by heads of major states. “I’ve given my report to my patient’s son. To give it to anyone else is a breach of professional practice and the law.”
“Listen you, a classified situation is more important than professional practice or the law.”
The doctor sniffed and tossed his head, walking away.
“You,” Zemsky pointed at the deputy, “arrest that surgeon.”
Leroy wondered if he should ask for an attorney. The creepy guy with the badge said he could have one. He said he was FBI. Was that worse than a cop? Leroy recalled reading about the FBI keeping people in jail forever with no trials. He opened his mouth to ask for an attorney, when …
“You stinking, cowardly, scum-bag. You …” A very beautiful woman with flowing blond hair walked in, screaming at the weird guy with the badge. She had on a shiny red jumpsuit cut very low in front. Leroy’s eyes opened wide. Wow.
“What are you talking about, Sylvia?”
“You don’t know, do you, you shit head?”
A tall, equally beautiful man followed her, looking concerned. He also had long blond hair.
“Niles noticed right away. What’s missing from this happy family picture?”
The weird guy with the badge seemed bewildered.
“The children, Austin. Where are Jimmy and Hannah? They’re lost. No one knows where they are.”
Zemsky’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Sylvia, I forgot.”
“You stinking!” She threw herself at her husband, hitting and clawing him. “You pompous, self-absorbed, selfish ASSHOLE! Where are my children?”
“I don’t know, Sylvia. They were in the Thomas & Mack …”
“Can’t I get my hair done without you losing our children?”
“Oh, please, Sylvia …”
“Anyone who can leave his children covered with blood and bull shit shouldn’t have children. You and I are done.” She turned to the tall, good-looking man. “Niles, what should we do?”
“Sylvia, we will find them. If we have to go door to door over all of Las Vegas, we’ll find them.”
A woman with tousled hair approached them. She was dressed in clothes so nondescript that no cleaning lady would wear them “I’m Renee Wicks, ATF.” She held out her badge. “I witnessed the child abandonment. Those children were terrified.” She glared at Austin as only a member of the ATF can glare at her counterpart in the FBI. “He walked off and left those kids smeared with blood and bullshit and never looked back. The boy was injured.”
“Jimmy was hurt? Oh, my God! Where are they?” Sylvia looked a microsecond away from tears. “Oh, please …”
“Ma’am, I’ve got them right here. They never left my side.”
The kids ran in. They were clean and dressed in new clothes. “Mommy! Mommy! Daddy left us. There was blood everywhere. We were scared,” Hannah cried.
“I got hurt, mom. A bone hit my arm. I had stitches.” Jimmy held out his bandaged arm.
“Mommy!” Hannah and Jimmy broke down, clawing at their mother and sobbing. She dropped to her knees and hugged them. Niles put his arms around all of them.
“Kids, do not worry. We will go home. We will play charades. I will cook dinner. You will be safe forever. I will buy a new horse for you to ride. Niles will not let you be afraid.”
The ATF agent stared at Niles. “Are you Niles Swanne?”
He blushed and said, “Ya.”
“Oh, my God! You’re really Niles Swanne? I’ve seen all of your movies. Blood Moon! Zombie Lovers! Oh, my God, you are Niles Swanne!” She searched her holster for something to sign. “I’d love to get your autograph.”
“Niles Swanne!? Really? Oh, my God!” There was a rush as everyone on the staff packed into the waiting room and went into a group swoon. They formed a line, waiting for autographs. The people in the waiting room joined them, as did many of the cops.
“You didn’t tell me you were a movie star!” Sylvia was a bit miffed.
“I am sorry. I do horror films, Sylvia. I am not proud of them. They scare me. They are not good for you or the kids. I came back to my grandparents’ to decide if I will stay an actor.”
Fifteen pieces of paper were thrust in his direction. More hospital staff crowded into the waiting room.
Leroy slipped into the night wearing surgical scrubs and his cowboy boots. No one noticed.
14
THE HEMI-CUDA
Leroy slowly walked out the hospital exit, remembering what his grandfather had taught him about tracking. “If you look as though you belong there, they will not see you.”
He glanced around the parking lot outside the hospital. Cop cars were everywhere. Unmarked black cars. The FBI? He should get back to the Thomas & Mack and get his horses. He would ride to Grandfather’s retreat in the desert. He would forget his prize money and the airplane ticket he was going to buy with it.
A chill went up Leroy’s spine when he thought of the plane door closing. The noise it would make. How stuffy the air would become. He would suffocate! Or the plane would act like one of the bucking horses, rearing end over end in the sky. Or worse, it would begin bucking before leaving the runway, and everyone in it would die. Or die when it fell from the sky.
Leroy had never been on an airplane. His greatest fear was getting on one. Not flying anywhere, just getting on. That would probably kill him. His heart would explode before he got off the ground.
He could ride one of his new horses and lead the other from Las Vegas to the Mogollon Bowl in New Mexico. The retreat was there, on sacred ground. Grandpa would be upset with him for being late, but he wouldn’t miss the entire Meeting. And his grandpa still would be alive.
Where was the Thomas & Mack? He realized he didn’t have to go back there. Reason Jimson would have taken them to the reservation. No, he wouldn’t. They’d go to whomever bought them. The horses were gone. He felt his hip. He’d left his wallet in the shower room. He was not going back to get it. He had a set of surgical scrubs and his boots. Could he get to New Mexico like that? With no money? Not even a drivers’ license? With the FBI and ATF behind him?
Leroy inhaled deeply. Right in front of him was the most beautiful car he’d seen. It was bright red, dulled in the light of the parking lot, but pristine. Not a scratch. Like it was new, but it wasn’t new. It was a Hemi-cuda, perhaps a 1970. Every male in the universe knew that. It had 426 horsepower, or more in some tests.
He found himself standing next to it, studying it. It was unlocked. Leroy had never stolen anything in his life. But this car? Did the Great One leave this car for him so that he could get to the Meeting quickly? But not so quickly as to draw the attention of the police?
Leroy opened the door on the driver’s side and slipped in. He pulled the lever and pushed the seat back as far as it would go. He rested his hands on the steering wheel, feeling how right the vehicle was. How perfect and beautiful. He didn’t have a key, but he thought about turning it on.
The engine turned over. Leroy jumped. That’s what happened with the bull; he didn’t mean anything then, either. He looked up. The lady and man from inside were walking toward the car with two children. They’d see him in it and think he was going to steal it. He had to hide.
Slithering in a way he didn’t know he could, Leroy slipped between the bucket seats and into the back seat. He was a very large man. They would find him when they got in the back. They would think he was stealing. And he would scare them. Leroy pulled at the rear seat. It moved forward. All the way forward, exposing a trunk in the back. The car was a hatchback whose back seats pushed forward if you wanted to carry something large in the trunk.
They were talking just outside the door.
“Why is car running?” Niles said.
“I don’t know. I don’t see anyone around. Maybe a homeless person?”
“Maybe a thief.”
“Can we go home, Mommy? I’m cold,” a little girl sai
d.
“Yeah. My arm hurts,” said the boy.
“Oh, you poor babies. Let’s go home, Niles, and put them to bed.”
The car was speeding somewhere, Leroy didn’t know where. He didn’t want to say anything and scare them, so he lay folded upon himself, wondering if he’d be able to stand up when he got where they were going. A little heat got back to the hatchback, not enough, though. The doctors’ pajamas he was wearing weren’t worth much for stopping cold.
Leroy decided that even though the car seemed like a gift from the Great One, appearing as it had, and therefore taking it wouldn’t be bad, taking it was stealing after all. So he wouldn’t take the car when they got out to wherever they were going. Stealing was bad, especially to get to the Meeting, his grandpa’s spiritual retreat. Everyone thought it was the last one because grandpa was leaving public life. Retiring.
That wasn’t it at all. His grandpa was dying. He’d told him that very clearly. He would appoint one of his warriors to be his successor and give the power of his lineage to him, or her, maybe. No one knew who he’d choose. The Great One would tell him when it was time. His grandpa would give the new shaman the Power to hold and use for the people, and then die.
Leroy hoped he would choose Wesley Silverhorse. Wesley was everything Leroy didn’t seem to be able to be. He was neat and tidy. His powers came out in an orderly fashion the way they were supposed to. He could remember everything that grandpa said. He was beautiful. Leroy had never seen a man as beautiful as Wesley, even Niles Swanne.
Wesley could heal almost as well as his grandpa. Or Leroy.
They left the paved road. Where were they going? The air went out of Leroy in a puff. This was coyote, playing with him. Giving him a test, a crazy, impossible test. How could he get to grandpa’s last Meeting?
Sometimes Leroy forgot that his grandpa wasn’t grandpa to everyone. To most people, he was Grandfather, the greatest shaman in the world. Maybe the greatest shaman ever to live. He was Grandfather. When he said that word thinking of everything Grandfather was, the hair on his body stood up and he shivered. He had to get to the Meeting.
