Strange Omens

by Jim Stein

  “Idaho Falls is a new stop,” Piper said as Hassan finished. We’d discovered speakerphone.

  “Manny managed to swing an extra gig.” Hassan sounded pleased. “That guy’s awesome.”

  “Manny?” Piper gave me a puzzled glance.

  “The road manager from Double-M,” he said. “Falls are only a few hours up Rt-15 from Salt Lake. If you two can push three hundred a day, you’ll be able to catch the Thursday night show. Look, I have to go. Mr. C wants a special broadcast from the Easton’s place. Drive safe.”

  The receiver went dead, and I hung up with a shrug. The interns were fitting in well, but the boss should have asked for a piece about the farm. Pete would have helped get the inside scoop. Unless they had some sort of exposé in mind concerning New Philly’s food supply. The locusts were certainly newsworthy. I shrugged the question aside, unfolded our map, and did a few quick calculations.

  “Could work if the roads keep getting better. One, two, three…” I marked off three hundred-mile segments between thumb and forefinger as I counted, then stabbed a triumphant finger at Idaho Falls and grinned up at my sister. “Four more days.”

  “Let’s press a little harder. I want a few hours to explore the lake. An inland body of saltwater is a magnet for spiritual energy. The area’s been a hotbed of mysticism since pre-virus. Good shopping too. I need to check my wish list.” Piper hopped up, paused, and gave me an odd, appraising look.

  “What?” I checked my jeans to make sure Max hadn’t been drooling.

  “You’re happier today, brighter. It suits you.” She swung away and dove into her bag.

  What did you say to a goofy comment like that? I grinned at the dog. “Let’s get you out before breakfast.”

  Max sniffed the hell out of the strip of grass alongside the parking lot, hot on some trail. He trotted around the end of the building, tail lashing. My dog is a marvel of contradictions. He can detect the faintest whiff of food at fifty yards—I’ve seen him do it. But other times, like now, he snorts and snuffles like there’s no tomorrow to identify an odor that’s all too obvious. This morning it was the sweet, sickening stench of rotting meat. I pulled up my shirt collar to block the cloying odor, but Max happily hunted for its source.

  Thankfully he didn’t find it and soon circled back. Long stringers of drool hung from the folds of his jowls, and those overly expressive eyebrows tipped left and right in concern.

  “Roadkill,” I assured the big doofus. “Go potty, then we get breakfast.”

  For the record, talking to animals is perfectly normal. Max finally did his thing after plenty of circling and sniffing, then resumed his futile hunt. I took a few moments to cast my hiding spell. The three shields clicked smoothly into place despite my gagging as the rank smell intensified. Something in the chest-high wild bushes along the perimeter of the motel’s property caught my attention. I approached, wondering if my imagination was playing tricks. Beyond the fluttering leaves, the tall grass lay bent and mashed as if something had bedded down overnight. It gave me the willies and wiped away the grin that persisted in spite of the pervasive stench.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go eat.” I trudged back to the room, wanting to get this trip over with.

  Ms. Olga had breakfast waiting for us and a giant trucker with a scraggly beard spread across his plaid shirt. Her pan of sticky buns drizzled with caramel and chock-full of raisins smelled delicious. Between those and fresh milk, we couldn’t complain, plus it saved us the time of ordering at the diner. The trucker carried his meal out to a shining chrome tanker that made the windows rattle as it rumbled toward I-80.

  Olga bustled about the small office, straightening and doing what seemed to be a whole lot of busy work. She smiled often, but cast nervous glances out the window and back to the security monitor. A grid of nine images showed her building and parking lot from various camera angles, and a pump shotgun lay across the desk below the display.

  “Trouble?” I asked, jerking my chin at the gun.

  “I’m being silly.” She flashed pearly white teeth, huffed out a little breath, and dusted the book in her hand for the third time. “Did you kids hear anything unusual last night?”

  “No, why?” Piper’s eyes shone, and I was half afraid she would whip out her notebook.

  “Well, I thought…” Olga slid the book back in place and twisted her dust rag. “I woke an hour before sunrise. Things just didn’t feel right. The parking lot cameras went all fuzzy, and a big shadow slid back and forth for a good five minutes. Ah, I’m being a nervous Nellie. Cameras work fine now and there’s nothing out there, except the roadkill stench.” She hurried over and started dusting the shotgun. “I’ll put this old thing away. Sorry to have made a fuss.”

  We settled our bill and loaded up Max. I looked around one last time, thinking something was out of place, but it wasn’t until we were on the road that it dawned on me.

  “Did you smell anything after breakfast?”

  “You know…I didn’t.” Piper squinted at the road and gnawed on a knuckle.

  “Me neither. Just flowers and grass. Weird.”

  ***

  Uktena watched the black vehicle glide toward the mighty ribbon of road. The council insisted on knowing Kokopelli’s every move, but the old trickster was difficult to track. From one perspective, Kokopelli did not appear to be doing much at all, simply sitting at the border of his domain. But Uktena sensed the power and great gouts of energy being expended when the old man moved between realms. He knew Kokopelli occasionally visited the humans, but discovering where else he traveled was more difficult than tracking even the dark ones.

  The vehicle made the main road and dwindled into the west. Kokopelli’s first son played an important role. Initially, watching the boy had been simplicity itself, but something changed. Edan’s movements were now vague, obscured as though the youth were not fully in the human realm. So the hunter decided to follow the hound.

  A growl rose deep in his chest. The stupid animal nearly found his catch. The horned serpent sniffed at the three carcasses piled to his left. To a human it would be a ghastly sight. Intestines spilled from one deer, while the second had been flayed by whatever contraption struck it. A trickle of dried blood leaked from the nostrils of the third sun-bloated delicacy.

  He had acted quickly, shielding his prize from the animal before his presence was discovered. Uktena gazed at the top carcass, letting his head sway in hypnotic rhythm. Hunting live prey was more entertaining than collecting scraps, but the humans did leave the most delectable offerings along their roadways. Satisfied the animal was helpless, the snake ducked his head and distended his jaw to the sweet feel of prey. Antlers tickled the roof of his great mouth as the buck’s head started down his throat. He closed his eyes and considered.

  Whatever power obscured the boy did not extend to his furry pet. He could hunt that animal to the ends of the earth and beyond. Legs folded back with a satisfying series of pops as he swallowed, and hooves scraped away his hunger. Uktena turned, slow and lazy, toward the skinless animal, head again dancing from side to side. Yes, the hound was a convenient tool, and when that usefulness was spent, there would be other uses. Uktena loosened the left side of his jaw and then the right and shot forward to take up another morsel. His eyes closed in ecstasy. Other uses indeed.

  11. A Problem Named Manfred

  T HE ROADS improved dramatically as the climate dried, so we no longer worried about frost heaves or tank-devouring potholes. Windswept sand was a new problem. Hitting that at speed proved plenty interesting, but there was something reassuring about keeping all four wheels on the ground, even if that ground shifted a little.

  We hit Salt Lake City at lunchtime on Wednesday. Piper brought entirely too much money for items on the wish list she refused to let me see. The only things that saved me from the shopping frenzy were the beating sun and ninety-five degree heat. Since we couldn’t leave Max in the car, my sister couldn’t drag me into stores.

  Piper
hopped from shop to shop, and I supervised Max’s olfactory inspection of town. While she ducked into the millionth store, Crystal’s Crystals, the dog and I enjoyed a snow cone from one of the street vendors. I didn’t plan on sharing, but it’s funny how your intentions change when you let your guard down and a big red tongue slurps across your snack.

  Only a handful of people strolled the streets or sat on the ornate iron benches along the storefronts. The town was a clean, refreshing change from decaying ruins. What remained of the once sizable city sat near the lake in an area the size of New Philly. The labor needed to raze nearly a hundred square miles of downtown was mind boggling. Where did they put all the debris?

  Most buildings boasted dark-red brickwork, wrought iron railings, and a distinct 1950s feel. Several side streets were even cobbled. Two modern buildings rose at the end of the main drag, sleek towers of concrete and glass.

  “One more stop, promise.” Piper streamed out hugging a pink crystal lamp shaped like a loaf of Italian bread.

  She loaded it into the back of the car, then skipped down the alley between storefronts. Where the hell? I followed just in time to see her red blouse disappear through a side door. Max and I trotted to the doorway.

  The simple rectangle framed with roughhewn timbers didn’t match the surrounding architecture. The door itself was made of dark weathered planking that screamed wooden ship or dungeon. A grungy brass kick plate covered the bottom edge and metal numbers nailed above read “1847.” A starburst of metal scrollwork surrounded the iron handle. Five bird heads were carved in bas-relief across the width of the door at eye-level. Though of simple design, the feathers and expressions made each unique. My stomach clenched. The short, hooked beaks were unmistakable; they were owls.

  “Come on, Max!”

  I grabbed the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it turned smoothly and the massive door swung inward. Max’s hackles rose, and his low growl rumbled warning as we entered. Max normally stood about waist high, but his posture and raised fur made him look even larger.

  I squinted into the dark and willed my eyes to adjust. Oak shelves lined with a colorful array of old books covered one wall. Shelves and artwork hung on the other walls, everything from old photographs, to figurines, to metal sculptures. The room didn’t feel like a store. It reminded me of a granny’s parlor for entertaining guests and displaying memories. A red loveseat and matching high-backed chair sat to either side of a wood coffee table. My sister and an old woman sat studying cards strewn across the table.

  “Piper!” My lungs refused to pull in enough air to say more.

  My sister turned. The old woman’s gnarled hands paused above the cards, and sweat sprung out on my face. Her skin was wrinkled and ancient, sagging from apple cheeks toward her strong chin. I grabbed at the warm fur pushing under my hand and steeled myself to meet that swirling, malevolent eye. I needed a spell, something to fight the compulsion, but my mind went blank.

  “You must be Ed. I am Madam Gornish.” The old woman’s voice was lilting. “Oh sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  I blinked, her clear blue eyes catching me off guard. The face was so familiar, wide and deep with cracks. But those thin lips smiled instead of sneering, her voice sang rather than croaking, and those wonderful pale-blue eyes held motherly concern.

  “I…I.” Words couldn’t break through my relief.

  Other similarities fell away as I caught my breath. Her head was covered in a dark kerchief, not a hooded cloak. In fact her clothing was more of a wrap, a sari or African design. Max’s growl turned to a whine. He licked at my hand as the woman approached. I felt like a fool for imagining she was the witch.

  “Your aura is out of balance.” She touched my cheek and studied me much as Koko did. “Come, sit.”

  I joined Piper on the loveseat while Madam Gornish finished her tarot card reading. Max laid his head on the armrest and watched with apparent interest. I couldn’t believe my sister bought into something so random. I paid little attention, surveying the room for hidden gems like the pyramid of old soda cans stacked in a corner. As I looked from the comfortable collection to the hand-drawn cards, I had to wonder what set the magic of deities like my father apart from what humans could do. It was certainly more tangible than any psychic reading, but Pina once said my Hopi birth-mother had her own power. Could this old woman have a gift?

  “Amazing,” Piper gushed. “In the dead of winter? I will have to watch for that one! Anything else?”

  “I see something wonderful occurring soon, tonight…” She gathered the cards up, carefully stacking and straightening the deck. Piper and I leaned forward. “You will sleep in the lap of luxury, in a well-appointed room with soft beds and hot showers. Your meals will be simple but delightful.”

  Piper blinked in surprise. “Sounds heavenly. Which card foretold that?”

  “No card.” The old woman gave us a mischievous smile. “My son owns a boarding house on the waterfront. Your brother should rest to align his chakras. Then you can go to meet the band.”

  Suckered again. I rolled my eyes and stood, earning an exasperated sigh from my ever-suffering canine. Sometimes it was difficult to stick with my vow and not refer to Max as “my stupid dog.” Piper’s psychic hummed a familiar tune, but I couldn’t quite place it. She nestled her cards into their wooden case, fished in her pocket, and held out a business card.

  “Here’s the address. Tell Josh I sent you, and he’ll treat you right. And, Edan, don’t let that father of yours push you around. He can be a real S.O.B. even when he means well.”

  ***

  The accommodations were excellent, as was the food. The scent of mud, brine, and decaying vegetation wafted through our window, but it was a wholesome, clean smell. Piper claimed there wouldn’t be anything nasty for miles thanks to the air being full of salt. Because of the way the dark forces used the suffering of others and generally abused the elemental forces, salt in any form disrupted their magic. As far as I knew, the mineral had no effect on my own powers nor on those of anyone with reasonably good intentions. With a literal sea of the stuff just outside our window, the tension drained away, and I slept like a baby—albeit a baby being crushed under a hundred-and-fifty-pound mass of snoring fur. Max liked the beds too.

  After declining a second round of pancakes and eggs, we were on the road by ten in the morning. The old massive interchange that would have put us onto interstate 15 north had been replaced with a simple crossroads and stop signs. I looked both ways and, in a rather anticlimactic way, turned left onto the final leg of our cross-country journey.

  “Madam Gornish said the rest of the trip will be exciting.” Piper patted the dash, then played with the window, not knowing what to do with her hands when not driving.

  “Live concerts and new cities? That’s a pretty safe prediction.”

  “You know, I never told her about the A-Chords.” Piper grinned under raised eyebrows.

  “Really? Cause I remember her saying…” What? Something about resting before meeting the band. And then of course there had been the crack about my father. Another safe generality, although she’d spoken with such casual familiarity. “Never mind. Tell me what you bought. I think the tailgate is dragging.”

  “A boatload of awesome! You saw the rock-salt lamp, that big pink one from Crystal’s. I stocked up on herbs we don’t see out east, a lucky stone with a hole in the center, an authentic dream catcher, some ash…”

  The list droned on as the landscape changed. Near desert was replaced by scrub brush, then trees. By the time we rolled into Idaho Falls five hours later, forest lined the roadway. Pine and hardwoods huddled close, a painfully lush green canvas after days of earthy browns. We stared like idiots. The Snake River followed off to our right, its dazzling surface darting close and conspiring with the higher elevation to take our breath away.

  And of course there were waterfalls. As we rolled into town, quiet rushing and occasional roaring echoed from all around. I only glimpsed an ac
tual spray of dropping water twice, but some magic of their presence took the edge off the afternoon heat.

  We found the RV parked behind a big stone amphitheater. Tiers of blue seats rose in a gentle arc around the recessed stage. The outdoor venue sat about two thousand, and a backstage building let gear and performers get out of the heat. Pioneer was in its full glory with bump-outs extending the bedroom and living areas and the awning unfurled against the blazing sun.

  “Good timing,” Billy called from the doorway at the back of the building.

  “Concert tonight, right?” I hopped out and crossed over to shake his hand.

  “Only if we beat back the gremlins.” Billy shook his head, then laughed and slapped me on the back. “Don’t look so worried. Just the normal blown amps, mystery feedback, and dust. This fine sand gets into everything. I’ll be happier the farther east we get.”

  “So it’s going well?” The word gremlin brought Ralph and images of supernatural saboteurs to mind.

  “It’s awesome.” Teeth flashed in Billy’s dark face. “People actually show up, and the tour’s making money. Hell, groupies follow us and groove to our sound.”

  “This equipment isn’t going to move itself.” Jinx strode out of the building carrying an empty plastic bin. “Ed, you made it!”

  “Just arrived,” I replied with a wave.

  “Only got in a couple hours ago ourselves. Time’s a wastin’.” Jinx headed for the RV and spotted my sister. “Hey there. Piper, right? Give me a hand?”

  Piper clapped heartily, receiving a scowl from the lead guitarist as he wiped sweat from his shining head. She giggled and strode over to help unload the basement compartments. Max trotted to my side and gave Billy a good once over.

  “I better keep hoofing gear. We’ll talk when set up is done. Go say hi to Quinn. She’s in Pioneer going over the books.”

  I knocked before opening the smooth white door, not that anyone could hear over the RV’s roaring air conditioner. Max and I had to climb eight full steps to get up into the beast.