“Not that I know of. Just Hope.”
***
It wasn’t long before the two former baristas pulled up to the outer edge of the city of Raton, still knee deep in discussion. The town had a scarlet red tint to it, eerie, like there was something secret in the mountains nearby.
James rolled down the window, inhaling the air from the higher altitude and remembering the last time he had driven through Raton. It had been roughly a year ago that he had blazed through the city while on his way to Austin, ready to escape the haunting mountains of Colorado and the jagged hills of his past.
He knew the time to tell Virgil the truth was coming, but decided, as he usually did, to bury the thought at the back of his mind.
“Let’s stop there,” said James, once he saw a place called Sand’s Restaurant. “Besides, it’s near a liquor store. Go get us a seat, I’ll buy some whiskey and meet you in there.”
“Will do.”
***
Sand’s Restaurant had a Hispanic food theme, complete with a fake palm tree wearing a gold sequined sombrero. Virgil sat at the old wooden bar and ordered two cups of coffee and two glasses of water. He was high, and it felt good.
The waitress, a thirty-something Raton native with filmy, hollow eyes and make up scars, frowned at Virgil as he adjusted his dirty ponytail. She sloshed the lukewarm cups of coffee onto the bar and pitched a few creamers next to the lukewarm cups.
She followed up with a basket of chips and salsa.
Virgil sipped the coffee and cringed at the bitter taste. As he thought about finally getting to Denver, a strange man sat down next to him. The man opened a local newspaper and quickly covered his face.
James came into the restaurant, the bulge of his flask visible in his front pocket, and sat down next to Virgil. One sniff of the coffee and he frowned. After glancing left and right, he added a little whiskey into the potent brew.
“Fajitas?” James asked without looking the menu over.
“I want something else too. Maybe some tacos or a torta. I’m hungry as fuck.”
The man who sat next to Virgil shuffled the papers and coughed. The waitress came back, tossed a couple more chips into the basket, took their order, and scurried off.
“So, we’re getting to Denver today…”
“Sure are,” James said as he looked down at whiskey-infused coffee.
“You boys should be happy you made it this far,” the man next to Virgil said, as he slowly lowered the paper.
James and Virgil exchanged glances.
The man wore a torn cowboy hat and red suspenders. He had long, sun-bleached hair, a faded blue pearl snap shirt with embroidered stars on the shoulders, and a pair of tight, black acid wash jean. On his feet were white cowboy boots covered in black scuff marks.
Most surprisingly, his face was painted like that of a mime’s, white with crimson red lips and vertical lines down his eyelids.
The makeup had faded, and scratched its way into the crevices on his aged, leathery face, which made him appear slightly sinister. He reached his hand towards Virgil’s to shake it and then extended his hand over the bar towards James.
Virgil noticed a faded leopard tattoo on his forearm.
“The name is Sax, Sax Arba. Spell that backwards and you’ll know who I really am, ha! I’m presuming you boys are Nathaniel’s friends,” he said quietly, the corners of his mouth raising and sinking into the faded white makeup. He had an eerie presence about him, and his long, yellow fingernails didn’t help him look any less frightening.
“You’re him?” Virgil asked. “How did Nathaniel know?”
“Nathaniel knows quite a bit. In a way he is like the good side of me,” Sax replied as he folded up his paper and placed it on the bar. “Hey, what happened to your arm?”
Virgil shrugged. “I, uh, had a run in with something.”
“Sounds about right. How ‘bout you boys eat your food and then meet me at the other side of town. There is a small cliff there with the letter “R” on it. I’ll be at the bottom of that cliff.”
James and Virgil stared at Sax apprehensively as he rose from the shabby bar and hobbled out of the restaurant. Before the former baristas could say anything, the food came out and the waitress plopped the bill next to the plate, which inadvertently covered the edge of the check in melted cheese.
James shrugged and looked at Virgil before digging into the aromatic Mexican food.
“What do you think?” Virgil asked as he cut his first bite. “Should we meet him?”
“Well, if he’s a friend of Nathaniel’s I suppose we should. There is definitely something weird about him though…”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
***
After finishing their fajitas and engulfing a couple of tortas, the two former baristas left some cash for the waitress and headed towards the jeep.
It was roughly two in the afternoon and close to nothing was happening in the town of Raton. The air was dry and stale; the breeze blew quietly through the brown mountains and lashed at a few small shrubs near the mountainsides with splintered whispers. A few silver lined clouds grazed like fat cows on the infinite field of the sky, elongating themselves before disappearing into the infinite blue void.
Virgil looked north, then west, finally settling on the mountain with the “R” on it. He pointed to it as he opened the driver’s side door.
James slowly got into the passenger seat and lit a cigarette. The large meal had given both men energy and simultaneously sparked their curiosity about the mysterious Sax Arba.
“I wonder how we even get up there…” Virgil asked, as he backed the jeep out onto the main road and nearly hitting a Hispanic lady walking a stroller. He waved at her in apology as he pulled onto the main road.
“I’m sure there’s a way. Just park along the base of the mountain.” James pointed towards a street that appeared to lead to the mountain and Virgil quickly drove to the location.
After tucking Ol’ Faithful into his cargo pocket, James motioned his head towards a windy path that appeared to lead to the top of the mountain. He reached into his bag and tucked something under his belt buckle as Virgil fiddled with the rearview mirror.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said as he got out of the jeep.
Once they got to the top of the mountain, they noticed Sax sitting on a large rock and swaying back and forth. His intimidating silhouette danced on the earth in front of him, his shadow enlarging with every sway.
“Virgil, James!” Sax screamed from his rock. “Come closer, I have gifts for you!”
Sax stood up and began miming a young girl throwing a fit. He fell back to the ground on his stomach and began beating the earth with his fists. He rolled around and pulled a bandana out from his pocket.
“What in the fuck?” James mumbled.
“You boys want to see a magic trick? Come closer!” Sax shouted.
“Be careful…” James whispered to Virgil. “He could be crazy…”
“Could?” Virgil asked.
Somehow Sax must have heard James.
“Me!? Crazy?” Sax stood up and kicked the dirt around him. “Gentlemen, I’ve invited you up here for a ceremony and you doubt me? I thought you guys trusted Nathaniel!”
James laughed cautiously. “I don’t know how much we should trust him. The last friend he introduced us to was Cody, and that fat son-of-a-bitch tried to poison us!”
“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you!?” Sax asked. “And that’s beside the point. Cody can be nice, you just have to get to know him. Anyway, come closer, I have a magic trick I’d like to show the both of you.”
Virgil and James took a few steps closer just in time to see Sax place the bandanna over his hand and pull it away like a magician. Sitting in his hand were two small tea cups on a ceramic plate. “You gentlemen ready to drink Pug’s special tea?”
“Who’s Pug?” Virgil asked.
“Pug is a medicine man that lives near here. I told him a day ago that yo
u two would be coming and he prepared this tea.”
“How did you know we were coming?” James asked. “Did Nathaniel tell you or something?”
“Amigos, you must come to understand that there are just some things I know.” Sax replied, with a sinister grin painted across his face painted face. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”
Sax moved closer to the men to show them the tea.
Soon he was standing at arm’s distance in front of them, sinking his head to the right as he stared into the two cups of tea. He handed James the small cup and James grabbed it, hypnotized by the faded wrinkles on Sax’s face.
He then handed a cup to Virgil, who also took it.
Seconds later, both men stood frozen, holding the tiny tea cups while Sax sat patiently on the rock like he hadn’t just been directly in front of them.
“Go ahead already,” the odd mime cowboy said. “Drink it. But remember, all choices have consequences, and I have but one more gift for each of you.”
Virgil brought the cup to his mouth and felt the lukewarm liquid trickle down his throat. He coughed, the fluid coming up into his nostrils and forcing him to cough even harder.
He dropped the cup as he placed one hand on his throat. As Virgil threw his arms out to get his bearings, his body began to quake.
“Ha!” Sax howled with laughter while Virgil shot him a shocked look. “Can’t handle a little tea?”
Virgil sat on the ground and looked up at James, who had yet to drink the tea.
“Fuck it.” James lifted the cup to his mouth and downed the liquid. He coughed, wavered for a minute, then sat down next to Virgil.
“All right, the truth serum!” Sax re-crossed his legs. “Have either of you ever heard of the tale of Nachiketas?”
Both men shook their heads. The tea was odd and curious, the liquid seemingly replacing their thoughts and calming them down to an exaggerated, submissive state. Both felt completely empty, with no desire to talk and their minds free from thought.
“Good, the tea is working! Oh, let’s see, I haven’t told this story in a while…” Sax briefly paused. The lines on his eyes sunk into the crevices of his face. After a few minutes, his face lit up and he began the tale:
“Nachiketas was a young yogi who ventured up to the cliffside dwelling of Yama, the God of Death. Being a God of Death means that one has other business to attend to, and much to Nachiketas’ dismay, Yama wasn’t home. However, Nachiketas was a strong yogi, and he waited there for four days until Yama returned. Yama, also being a gentle God of Death – of which there aren’t many, amigos – granted the yogi three wishes for being patient for so long.”
Sax paused and looked at the two glass-eyed men to see if they were following his story.
“Anyhow, his first wish was for his father to recognize him upon returning home, and his second wish was to know the secret of the fire sacrifice. Yama easily granted these two wishes, and after explaining the fire sacrifice thoroughly, he told Nachiketas to ‘choose his third wish carefully.’ Nachiketas pondered for a moment, and finally decided to just go ahead and ask it. Do either of you know what he asked Yama, the God of Death?”
Both men didn’t say anything, both muted by the tea.
“He asked Yama for the secret of death. Naturally, Yama protested, and instead, he offered to grant Nachiketas anything his little yogi heart could desire, from a stable full of horses, to a house full of beautiful women, to eternal life, anything he could possibly want, as long as he didn’t have to explain the secret of death to Nachiketas. Being a wise young yogi, Nachiketas informed Yama that all his offers were of the material variety, and that the only thing he wanted to know was the secret of death. That’s it. No riches, no nothing…just the truth.
“After much deliberation, Yama finally obliged, and explained to Nachiketas that there are two paths of life: the path of joy through benevolence and love, and the path of pleasure through materialism and self-worship. The truth is that both paths attract the soul. Yama then elaborated on his revelation, finally arriving at this point: those who follow the first path of compassionate joy come to know good, and those who follow the second path of desire never reach the end. The key to Heaven can open the door to Hell. Heard that one before?”
Sax placed his hands on his knees and smiled at the two men as he waited a split second before continuing.
“So anyhow, the point of the story is that wise men choose the first path, and foolish men choose the second path. The wise men understand that the pursuit of pleasure is temporary, and that one can only become truly happy by helping others. All religions nod to this idea if you examine the text without preconceived notions. And naturally, the other path of self-deceit leads to, you guessed it, self-deceit.
“So anyways, after explaining all of this, Yama congratulated Nachiketas and told him that he had chosen the first path and no longer needed to worry about death because worrying about death is itself materialistic. How? Because by worrying about death, or what happens after death, one is actually worried about their own pleasure level. Is it Heaven, is it Hell? Either idea is based on pleasure; heaven being the ultimate pleasure and hell being the ultimate anti-pleasure. Ha! Same key, right?”
Sax slapped his knee.
“Finally, Yama tells Nachiketas that he hopes to never find another pupil like him, because if more people understood that joy was only obtainable by helping others, and thinking about death and its aftermath is a useless pursuit of pleasure, mortality would lose its power over humanity and Yama, being the God of Death, would be out of a job!”
Neither man laughed; the tea had completely emptied their thoughts.
James stared wide eyed at Sax the mime cowboy and tried earnestly to pull a few words to his lips. Virgil, having had a little more experience with mind-altering substances, finally managed to mumble a question in the direction of Sax. “What’s…in…this tea?”
“Virgil the shaman wants to know what’s in Pug’s tea!” Sax glanced at Virgil critically. “I believe it’s a tea made from Amanita Muscaria. But it’s a special recipe, one that will last only a few more minutes. To be honest, I don’t know how Pug managed to make a tea with such a sudden but short-lived effect, but he did, and now the two of you get to experience it.”
“Why…is your…face painted?” Virgil asked as he felt the emptiness swell inside him.
Sax smirked dangerously at Virgil, his cheeks twisting into small balls near his ears and his yellow, battered teeth emerging from his mouth like jagged rocks.
The mime cowboy stood up and moved closer to Virgil, stalking him like prey. His breath, a horrid mixture of vinegar and rotten apples, penetrated the lining of Virgil’s nostrils as he stood in front of him, face to face.
“It’s a representation,” Sax claimed as he wavered in front of Virgil. “A mime mimics the people around him; a mime becomes these people and their everyday actions. If God created man in his image, then a mime completes the trinity by mocking a man’s everyday actions and through the man, the mime begins mirroring God itself. The mime is the Holy Ghost; it is the relationship between the Godhead and the son.”
“But...” Virgil paused, his mind lost in a barren landscape of ambiance. He slowly smirked. “A mime is a reflection…not a stream…”
The tea was losing its effect on Virgil.
Sax shot Virgil an angry glare, his nostrils flared up, and his hat sank lower over his brow, illuminating his wrathful pin-prick eyes.
He walked back over to the rock and stood there, his back to the stunned men.
James finally shook his head in an attempt to come out of the tea’s spell. “Who…are…you?”
“I am my name backwards…no more questions about who I am!” Sax eyed James as he sat back down on the rock. “So, to relate your journey to the questions story about Nachiketas: are you seeking pleasure or joy?”
“Both.” Virgil managed to reply starkly.
“Not the right answer, Virgil!” Sax bellow
ed. “You might think that you have sought both, but if you examine your journey further, you might discover that it has been propelled by the pursuit of pleasure.”
“Whatever,” came James’ reply.
Sax paused and looked down at both men. “Traveling across the country, assuming it is Armageddon, and drinking excessively or hallucinating on a daily basis is a pursuit of pleasure…”
Sax rolled onto his side and curled his knees to his chest. “Consequences, amigos,” he said with a sad face. A bit of drool emerged from Sax’s mouth and dripped its way to the surface of the rock. “Consequences affect all of us. People have known this for eternity, and all consequences begin with choices. So naturally, I’m going to offer the both of you one more choice.”
Sax sat up and slowly wiped the drool from his red lips.
He stood and bent forward, miming someone looking in a box and pulling various invisible items out. He feigned frustration, jumping up in the air like a child throwing a silent tantrum. He steadied his gaze towards James and Virgil, the paint on his face curving into his mischievous smile.
Finally, after staring them down for a minute or two, Sax tiptoed over to his black backpack.
He rummaged through it with his back to the two former baristas and finally pulled out two small jewelry boxes, clutching them like treasures in the palms of either of his hands.
He placed one in front of either men and walked back towards the rock and sat back down. Suddenly, the effects of the tea started waning and the thoughts in both men’s heads started racing.
James looked down at his box and noticed a small leopard, just like Sax’s arm tattoo, carved into the surface of the box.
Virgil’s box had a similar carving, except his had a “V” and the leopard that was missing its head. Snapping out of the tea’s spell, James quickly bent down, grabbed both boxes and put them in his cargo pocket.
“Not so fast, gentlemen!” Sax threw up both his hands up in protest. “Before you open these boxes, at least let me explain to you what’s in them. James, your box contains the most potent alcohol I’ve ever come across; a one-ounce dosage is like nothing that has ever been conceived before. And just so you know, I got it from Cody, but this stuff isn’t poison, well, at least not in the traditional sense.”
Star-Spangled Apocalypse Page 17
