(Las Vegas, 8/10/68)
The sky went red to orange. Dwight stood by the service pumps and watched.
The blaze backlit the desert floor and the highway. He saw Wayne’s car on the turnaround. His tail-job-on-instinct got him this.
Two pump jockeys stood around, gawking. A hot wind blew smoke their way. Dwight walked to a pay phone, fed the slot quarters and dialed direct to L.A.
The smoke was thick with paper bits. Dwight felt the sting. Karen picked up immediately.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“You’re not supposed to call when he’s in town, goddamnit.”
Dwight said, “Talk slow to me. Just a minute, please.”
Karen said something back. He didn’t hear it. His eyes were all wet and fucked-up. He couldn’t tell if it was the smoke or his crazy love for Wayne.
(Miami, 8/10/68)
Smoke and fire. The spooks refused to quit. Gunshots, sirens and a 4:00 a.m. light show.
Crutch pulled into the Avis lot. The clutch on his rent-a-car blew. The gears were stripped. The car lurched and lugged. He called ahead. The desk guy said, Screw the riot. You come right in.
Half-tracks rolled down Biscayne Boulevard. The governor called in the Guard. There’s a string of cop cars and a six-seater Jeep. Fuck, the driver’s smoking a joint.
Smoke and fire. Swamp heat. This orange sky edging toward mauve.
The car lurched and died by the gas pumps. Crutch got out and stretched. Heat and fumes smacked him. His head hurt. He’d been working the bug post full-time. He’d been up since God knows-
Someone/Something pushed him. He tumbled back in the car. His head hit the shift knob. His arms hit the dashboard. The Someone/ Something pinned him down. He/It was all black.
Then the knee on his back. Then the gun in his face. With the silencer barrel-threaded and the hammer half-back.
“Why are you surveilling Wayne Tedrow? Be honest. Evasion will decree an even more horrible death.”
The French accent. The Frogman. Frog couture all black.
“I repeat. Why were you surveilling Wayne Tedrow?”
Crutch tried to pray. The words hit his brain jumbled. His piss tubes swelled. He held it in. The weight on him helped. He remembered his lucky rabbit’s foot and obscure Lutheran Church lore.
“I repeat.”
His shit chute swelled. He held it in. The weight on him helped. He opened his mouth. He squeaked and got some sounds out. God or some unseen fucker fed him word soup. He saw his mother. He heard “Dr. Fred,” “Howard Hughes,” “Grapevine plant,” “million dollars.” He heard “Dead woman,” “missing woman,” “knife-scar woman,” “green stones.” He heard “Please don’t kill me” six billion times in six seconds.
He shut his eyes. His tear ducts swelled. He held it in. Biting his tongue helped. Six billion years went by in six seconds. He saw his mother and Dana Lund six billion times. He tried for prayers and dredged up hymns.
The weight eased up. He clenched his tubes, chutes and ducts and stayed dry. He smelled brandy. The scent touched his lips strong. He opened his mouth. He dipped his head and took the pour. His throat constricted. He opened wider and let it roll in. He opened his eyes and saw the Frogman.
“I have been prone to sympathetic lapses before. You must affirm my perception of your youthful willfulness and capacity for acquiescence.”
Crutch crawled into the passenger seat. His heartbeat kept multiplying. He was head-to-toe sweat. The Frogman stretched out in the driver’s seat. He nipped off the flask and passed it back. Crutch chugged brandy and looked out the window. There’s more smoke, sirens and riot cops- the spooks just won’t quit.
Mesplede said, “I may ask you to report information to me.”
Crutch nodded-yessir, yessir, yessir.
The flask went back and forth. A sync settled in. Their eyes stayed locked while the Frogman monologued. It was all CUBA. It was le grand putain Fidel Castro and the Cuban Freedom Cause. There was JFK’s Bay of Pigs betrayal. There was LBJ’s Commie appeasement. There was America’s sissified accommodation and the Caribbean as a Spreading Red Lake. There were brave men willing to die to quash the Red Tide.
The flask went back and forth. The oration continued. Crutch rode the world’s greatest buzz.