Awake Asleep Dreaming Dead

by John Siwicki

  How old were you when you went there? Sam asked.

  After I sold my barber shop I thought about where to go, and decided on Japan. I worked hard there with a guy from America who built log cabins. Unloaded logs that came in shipping containers packed to the top by hand. We had to crawl inside and push the logs out one by one. They were eight or ten inches in diameter, ten feet long, and heavy as hell. By nightfall we were spent, and just sat around grilling, eating, and drinking. After filling up on food and booze we took a long hot bath, then hit the sack, but got up early the next day and did it all again. Those log cabins sure looked great when they were finished. I wanted to build one for myself, but I met a nice lady, and she wanted to live in the US, so we came back.

  That’s quite a story, Tom. You know, I’ve been to Japan. What happened to the lady? Sam asked.

  She died.

  Sorry, Tom, didn’t mean to . . . bring back sad memories.

  It’s okay, Tom said, and winked.

  Sam wondered why Tom didn’t seem as drunk as he made out to be. Is he’s putting on a sham? Sam thought.

  Holiday looked up, and howled at the moon like he was calling an old friend. Hey, Tom, maybe she’s up there. What’s her name?

  Her name was Lori, Tom said, and I loved her dearly.

  Hey, Lori! Holiday yelled. You up there? then laughed.

  The moon’s a mysterious object, Tom said. Some people think it’s hollow, and reptilian creatures live inside that glowing orb. Some of these people also think some of us are actually their offspring.

  Now you’re joshing, aren’t you old timer?

  It looks like one huge pearl to me, Tom said. A pearl of the universe floating high above, and one of a strand that broke apart when the universe was created.

  That’s some strange shit old timer, where are the rest of them pearls, and where’d you come up with that story anyway?

  Read about it somewhere, don’t remember where.

  Yeah, I read too, but nothing like the shit you’re coming up with, old man.

  Well, I’m hitting the sack and dreaming about pearls floating in space, Sam said. You guys can stay up shooting the breeze if you like, but I’m driving, and have to get up early tomorrow. If you’re not ready, I’ll leave both of you here. Sam crawled into his tent listening to crickets and muffled voices. Tom is up to something, he thought. He rolled around in his sleeping bag getting comfortable listening to them both talk on, but it was just noise. Soon it was quiet, and there was only the smell of smoke from the doused fire, hooting owls, and the occasional groan as the forest came alive with sounds of the night.

  NEXT MORNING

  The morning sunlight stirred Sam from a comfortable sleep, after he felt something at the bottom of his bare feet, like a bug crawling over his toes. He sat up in a frenzy rubbing his eyes. As Sam came to life he saw Holiday crouching at the opening of the tent sporting a huge grin. He had a long weed in his hand, and was using it to tickle the soles of Sam’s feet. One thing about Holiday: he acted like a dumb hick, but he had a perfect set of teeth, and a killer smile that wouldn’t quit. He could charm the devil just like Lonesome Rhodes in the film “A Face In the Crowd”. Sam yawned, groaned, and worked out the stiffness from sleeping on the ground all night. Morning, Holiday said in a friendly twang. You awake? Hey sleeping beauty . . . I think we been taken to the cleaners. Holiday cocked his head. Hear what I said? Hey! You up?

  Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . what’s . . . going on? What did you say? Sam sat up wobbly, grabbed his pants, shoes, then crawled outside. What do you mean? He asked, barefoot, and still in a slumber as he put on his pants and shirt. What’s going on?

  He’s gone, Holiday droned. Nowheresville! Gone! Splitsville!

  Who’s gone?

  Well, there’s no one else here but us. I only see you and me. Better check your wallet, and other valuables. I think the old timer’s run off with it. He was friendly; a little too friendly, and I think he just wanted to make off with our goods.

  Strange, Sam mumbled, and looked through his things, then walked over and checked the car. Everything’s here, nothing’s missing, he announced. Where would Tom go? he muttered. A visit with Mother Nature?

  That’s possible, but I been up a while, and ain’t seen him, Holiday said, and laughed. You don’t suppose he went off to take a dump, and croaked pushing out a turd?

  Sam looked at Holiday. What’s that supposed to mean?

  He walked over to Holiday, grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him against a tree.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  Nothing! Don’t mean nothing, Holiday wheezed. Sam’s hands moved around Holiday’s throat. Holiday choked, breathing quickly. Leave me be. Let go of my shirt. He pushed Sam back, and gasped for air.

  Did you do something to Tom?

  You’re choking me, man! Choking . . . lay off, will you.

  Sam released his grip, and walked toward the car. Holiday fell to the ground holding his neck, and mumbled, You’re gonna get yours, wait and see if it don’t happen.

  Sam spun toward Holiday. What? What’s that? What did you say?

  Nothing, I said nothing. Just leave me be. A glimmer of revenge emerged from Holiday’s face as he brushed the dirt from his clothes. He rubbed, felt, and held his neck where Sam had the choking grip. He followed Sam with his coal dark eyes. You’re gonna get yours, you bastard.

  Stay here. I’m taking a walk to look for Tom. You be here when I get back.

  I ain’t going nowhere, Holiday said, still holding, massaging, and clearing his throat.

  Hey, Tom! Where are you? Tom! Sam shouted as he walked to the edge of the woods, but there was no response. You old fart. Where are you, Sam grumbled, and shouted Tom’s name again. Finally he gave up, and headed back to the campsite.

  It was quiet, and the only sound came from birds singing. Holiday was nowhere in sight. Gone . . . he’s gone, too. I figured as much, Sam mumbled, and took down his tent. As Sam rolled, and folded, the tent he heard Holiday’s voice from behind, and turned.

  Now the shoes on the other foot Mr. High and Mighty Bossman. I want you to stay right there, and put your hands on your head. Cause if you don’t I’m gonna blast you! Comprende?

  What do you want? Sam asked. Where’s Tom? What did you do to him?

  I don’t know where the old fart is. I want your wallet, your car, and anything else of value that you got. As far as the old-timer goes, I ain’t got a clue. He probably did wander off to take a dump, and had a heart attack like I said before. Maybe he croaked.

  I thought you said you changed your ways, and gave up being a thief.

  Well, not exactly.

  Was any of what you said true? Sam asked, dropping to the ground with Holiday standing over him, and the gun pointed at his back.

  The prison story part was true, Holiday said. But why I was put in . . . wasn’t. I told you I hit a bank, well, I did a little more than that.

  More?

  Yeah, more. And I’ve done . . . lot’s of other things, and not worried a damn bit. So, don’t do anything stupid or I’ll blow a hole in you. Holiday opened the wallet. This all the money you got, Bossman?

  That’s it.

  You’d better be telling the truth, Holiday said, shoving the pistol against the back of Sam’s head while twisting the barrel.

  No valuables in the trunk or car? Holiday asked with a voice of doubt. Really? Nothing? No more money? Nothing at all?

  There’s a lot of camera gear in the trunk, and a small leather case under the seat with some papers and money.

  Papers? What kind of papers, Zig Zags? Holiday said, and laughed. Now we’re talking, Holiday said. I’ll be checking that for that stuff, and while I do, you strip.

  What?

  You heard me, strip. Take off your clothes. Don’t want you running away. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, so don’t go and do anything stupid.

  Holiday walked over to the Sam’s car, rummaged under the seats, found, and pulled
out the leather case.

  I’ve got the case, he shouted, and smiled as he held it up.

  Sam turned. Yeah, great.

  Where’s the key for the trunk?

  On the ring; the key ring in my pocket, Sam said.

  Okay, toss your pants here, Holiday ordered in his twangy accent, driving Sam crazy; it was like peeling a dry scab off. And get the rest of them clothes off. And remember, I’ll shoot you in the face, and keep blasting until you’re full of holes if you try anything. He waved and twirled the gun around again like a gunfighter. Come on! Move it, boss-man!

  Sam took off his pants, and threw them in Holiday’s direction. They landed at Holiday’s feet.

  He bent down, and picked up the pants. Take everything off. Don’t be shy, now, Holiday said, and laughed as he checked the pockets. Sam pulled off his shirt, and finally stood there in his shorts with his arms folded. Take them skivvies off too, Holiday growled. Then lay yourself face-first down on the ground. Get your face and pecker in the dirt. Hey, got a nice wad of cash here bossman, Holiday said counting the money. Looks like I’m gonna have me a good time. Now, you got anything else hidden in your rig?

  Sam was on his belly on the ground, and could only see to the left and right. He heard footsteps coming closer. He heard crunching twigs and pebbles. The sound got louder, and was coming closer. Sam’s mind whirled.

  How do I surprise him and get the gun?

  The leaves and branches on the ground cracked louder until the sound echoed in Sam’s back. Holiday kicked at the ground. Dirt landed on Sam’s head. He took a deep breath, and swallowed. This is it, got to do something. Could be my last chance. Sam felt the cut of leather on his backside. Holiday had taken Sam’s belt, and was whipping him. Sam’s body curled up. He rolled on the ground, his hands moved back and forth with each lash, protecting his face and covering his crotch.

  How does that feel, Mr. High and Mighty? I told you that you’d get yours. He swung the belt again lashing him again. Red welts popped up over Sam’s body. Holiday kept swinging the belt until there was a solid thud and a groan. Sam watched Holiday collapse on the ground next to him. His eyes washed and lifeless like a corpse.

  What happened? Sam thought, then turned and looked up. Tom stood there, beard flowing in the breeze, grinning, the tree limb he’d used to club Holiday along side of the head in his hand.

  Where the hell did you go? Sam asked. Why did you leave me here alone?

  Went for a walk, that’s all.

  A walk? And left me here with this maniac.

  Wanted to see what this clown would do, so I went for a walk to make him think I’d left. Sorry I didn’t get back sooner. Looks like he did a job on you; your back looks pretty red.

  Sam moaned from the beating as he put on his underwear, then grabbed his pants, shirt, and shoes. Get the gun, he said. Let’s get the hell out of here.

  Tom grabbed the pistol, and tucked it in his belt.

  While putting on his shoes Sam asked. What are we going to do with him?

  I’ll take care of him, Tom said. You pack up.

  Holiday woke up slowly, groaned, babbled something, then rubbed the spot on the side of his head where Tom had clubbed him. He was reeling, and not sure what had happened.

  Time for you to get up sleeping beauty, Tom said, smiling and grinning. Rise and shine, sweetheart.

  Tom and Sam stood over Holiday looking down at him. He opened his eyes to a blue sky and unhappy faces. Gradually he sat up, rubbed his neck, and moaned, What the hell happened?

  You’re in dreamland, Tom said.

  Whoa, you clocked me a good one, old timer, Holiday groaned. What are you gonna do now?

  We’re going for a walk, Tom said, and kicked Holiday in the backside. Get up! Get up you useless . . . get up.

  Where are we going?

  That way, Tom ordered, pointed, then turned to Sam. I’ll be right back. Finish packing, and don’t leave anything lying around, take everything.

  What are you going to do to me, you old coot? Holiday asked.

  Put Sam’s stuff on the car. Take it all out of your pockets.

  I found a nice tree over on the back side of that hill, Tom said. Head right over there. I carved your name on it. Come on I’ll show you. Keep walking straight ahead. It’s just over that way.

  Why do I need to see a tree?

  This one is just for you.

  What happens after I see the tree?

  Nothing happens, or everything happens.

  You old coot, Holiday swore, I’ll find you, and cut you up into little pieces. Wherever you go, I’ll find you!

  You think so, Tom said. I’m giving you to Mother Nature. Up the hill, through brush and under trees they trudged. See that tree right there, Tom pointed. Go wrap your arms around it. He gave Holiday a nudge forward. Move! Hold up your hands, Tom said, then looped the rope around Holiday’s body cinching him to the tree. Well, that should do it, he said, grinning as he checked how secure the ropes were, then pulled on them. Nice and tight.

  As Tom walked away, Holiday shouted, I’ll find you wherever you go. You best be looking over your shoulder, you old coot. I’ll find you, and tear your heart out. And the boss-man will get his payback, too. I’m coming for him!

  Tom took out a cigar, and thought What the hell, lit it, puffed on it, and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. Until next time, he said, and headed off over the hill.

  Holiday yelled at Tom as he walked back to the camp ground. You’ll see me again! Yes you will! his voice echoed.

  I know. I’m planning on it, Tom yelled back.

  Sam had everything packed, and ready to go. Where’s Holiday?

  He’s spending some time with nature.

  When he gets free he’ll come looking for us.

  Let’s get in the car and drive, Sam.

  Sam stepped on the gas. The car rattled over the bumpy gravel path. The road twisted, turned, and curved around the crown of Wild Cat Mountain. On the way down to the highway, Sam was quiet, staring straight ahead, but in the back of his mind he wondered about Holiday. Sam looked over to study Tom. There’s that quirky smile again. He’s hiding something, Sam thought. It was a strange smile of knowing something no one else did. It was quiet, tranquil, and as they drove, the scenery passed like a dream.

  Goodbye, Holiday, Tom said.

  He was cool and calm, watching the trees pass, looking up at the sky, and finally back to Wild Cat Mountain.

  Open it up, Tom said.

  Good idea, get out of here as fast as we can go.

  Should we have called the police?

  They can’t do anything. Holiday’s a good for nothing number-one-asshole. Drive on, boy, drive on.

  The silence in the car seemed to last forever as they only kept an eye out, driving the speed limit, not too fast or slow. Then Tom took out a CD and put it in the player. A Spanish melody played, and above, the sky was as blue as the ocean in the Caribbean. Clouds floated off in shapes of faces, animals, and other kinds of abstract designs. It looked like Picasso had painted the sky. It began to warm up as they left the early mornings hills for flatter terrain.

  SECOND HITCH=HIKER

  There’s a girl walking up ahead there. She looks young, and is toting a heavy duffel bag. Up the road, a figure walked slowly, switching the bag from the left to the right hand. Sam was puzzled, had a worried look as he downshifted to slow down. Should I stop and pick her up?

  Well?

  Well, what?

  Pick her up. Tom said.

  I don’t know, maybe she’s a freak like Holiday. I don’t want to go through another episode like the last one. She’ll get a ride from someone. Another car will drive by.

  Sam downshifted, the car’s engine revved. Sam looked her over as they cruised by. Her head turned, her eyes were clear, her smile like a cheerleader rooting a team on. Sam stepped on the gas, shifted into second gear, and sped up.

  She’s pretty, Tom said.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, she’s p
retty, Sam said. He took a deep breath, and after a long pause pulled over and stopped. Sam looked at Tom. Here we go again. Why am I doing this?

  They watched in the rear view mirror as she jogged, struggling with her bag. She finally reached the car out of breath. Thank you so much. Thank you, she said gulping air. Thank you for stopping. While catching her breath she managed to introduce herself. I’m Lori.

  Now, up close Sam could see her youth, freckles on her nose, and high cheeks. She had bright green eyes, short wild black hair, and a sweet smile. She looked intelligent and athletic. She’s right off the cover of Sports Illustrated, Sam thought. That’s a magazine I’d like to shoot for.

  Sam dreaded another fiasco of picking up another hitch-hiker like the last one. But the glum atmosphere quickly changed to lively and bubbly. Grinning, Sam said, Hi, I’m Sam, and this distinguished guy here is Tom.

  She was on Tom’s side of the car, and greeted him first. Hi, Tom, she said, and held out her hand.

  Tom grabbed Lori’s hand in a firm grip. Hi, yourself young lady. Nice to meet you.

  Call me Lori, she said, reaching over to shake Sam’s hand. So, where are you guys going?

  Sam and Tom began to answer simultaneously, but then Sam let Tom answer. We’re headed for Ellsworth, right, Sam?

  What about you? Where’s your destination? Sam asked.

  Home, or a place called home.

  Where’s home? Sam asked.

  A small town; you wouldn’t know it.

  Where is it?

  In Japan, but I’m thinking about heading to Hawaii.

  We don’t have much room, and the trunk is full, but the back seat’s all yours, Sam said. Jump in.

  Okay, Lori said, then threw her bag in the back, and squeezed in.

  Make yourself as comfortable as you can, Sam said.

  I’m comfortable, Lori said. It beats walking.

  That it does, Tom said. That it does. How long have you been roaming out here all by your lonesome?

  Well, I met this guy, but he wasn’t very nice, and I’ve been running away from him for a while now. He follows me all over. If I can get far enough away I’ll be safe. Being out on the road is rough, and he always shows up everywhere I go.