~ ~ ~

  For the second time on the trip the van refused to start. A minute under the hood and Prez ordered, "Give it a try." Success; the engine lit up instantly. When they pulled from the lot he sang the praises of the stalwart V-8, then said, "Distributor cap again."

  "No way." June wailed.

  "Yeah, man, I don't get it." He scratched his forehead. "The cap was there but it was unclipped and two plug wires were loose."

  "Oh no."

  "The Capper again?" asked Dedra.

  "I don't know. It's? That's really not his style."

  "Well, he better leave my van alone if he knows what's good for him."

  "Amen," agreed June.

  Within half an hour a mild rain was falling and, nearing the New Mexico border, it continued under the grey cast of early morning light. Lost in thoughts of mutiny, of tying the crew up and turning the van around and heading back to Doug's house, June felt eyes upon her from the passenger seat. Breaking out of her daze, she said, "Uh, Bryan? Is something wrong?"

  "No."

  "Then why are you staring at me?"

  "Because you look really good in that dress." He gaped. "Will you marry me?"

  "I'll tell you what, Bryan," she laughed, "If nothing works out with Doug or any other human I may have to consider it. And as long as I don't have to kiss you or touch you or anything like that. That would suck."

  "Y'know, you just left a line of cleat marks on the bottom of my heart. So cruel." He had no scenery left to chew. "Well, you got my number."

  Approaching Carlsbad the downfall intensified and a darkening sky was showing cranky flashes of lightning near the horizon. Thunder rumbled distantly at a refueling stop and Prez confirmed there was rough going ahead. He pulled June aside and insisted, "I think you better let me drive."

  "But I'm OK. I wanna keep going."

  "No. I'm not saying you're a bad driver or anything, but I know your mind is someplace else today. This is odd weather for this time of year and we're driving dead into it."

  "Aw, hell."

  "Yeah, it could become hell at any moment. Seriously. Trust me on this. Gut feeling."

  "Ohhh?K," she said, "But I claim shotgun. OK?"

  "My beautiful, sexy co-pilot? But of course." His Frenchman imitation was truly laughable. His mechanical and driving skills were truly to die for. Ten miles down the road the rain was hammering against the windshield, he patted the engine cover and again exalted his creation: "Good ol' Pontiac 350!" Immediately, a snapping flash made them both gasp. A feral screech issued from the loft and a deafening explosion of air crushed any sense of calm. "Damn, that was close. I could feel that one."

  "Oh, shit." June's face turned white. "Prez? I had a bad dream earlier."

  "No offense, but I really don't wanna hear about it right now."

  "Should we turn back?"

  "That's not gonna make anything better. We just gotta ride this out. We'll be OK."

  "I trust you, dear, but I am a little scared."

  "You just called me 'dear,' y'know."

  "I know."

  All at once a deluge of water bombarded them-sky convulsing in epileptic strobe fits and the sound of Buddy Rich teething successive drum solos-and the windshield wipers swatted in futility. Prez dropped his speed: 50, 40, 30, 20, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "June! No matter what, keep your eyes peeled!"

  "OK. Don't worry." She had momentarily peered backward to see Bryan clutching Dedra. The maelstrom continued for a solid, metal-pounding ten minutes and eased a bit, allowing the wipers to do their job and allowing Prez to bring their speed up to a confident 30 mph. Without taking her eyes from the road she called, "You guys OK back there?"

  Two replies: "No, of course not," and "I might need to change my panties."

  The downpour gradually slackening, the act of driving became almost reasonable and the speed inched up to nearly 40 mph. Up ahead and a few yards off the road lay a pickup truck on its side, camper shell split open, stunned humans examining it while a bare-headed, shirtless man set flares; then a nondescript sedan, emergency flashers blinking, muddy swerve marks etching its path into a shallow ditch. The gyrating red and blue lights of a patrol car materialized in the distance, came closer and wailed past them on the other side of the highway. There were dense sheets of water and dirt on the asphalt that created easy havoc with steering and braking. Knowing the perils of praying, Prez hoped the rain would steady and let them get to Roswell unscathed if only to stop and give thanks. After five slow miles he perceived a flashing roadblock and orange detour signs drawing closer. "June," he asked, "did you bring any high heels or silk stockings with you?"

  "Uh, no. Why?"

  "We might need you to show some sexy thigh to these guys up ahead. They might let us through that way."

  "Um, maybe. But only if De flashes some bare booby at 'em."

  "Damn, girl, we'd have 'em surrounded."

  Stone-faced patrolmen waved them off 285 and onto State Highway 2 as well as a series of small, slow paths that would have made them lost if not for the detour signs. The rainfall eased to an ardent drizzle but the darkened sky still promised adverse weather and constant thundering grumbled assent. From the loft Dedra pleaded, "Prez, I've gotta pee really bad. Can we stop?"

  "Yeah, me too," said June.

  "Haven't you chicas figured out how to make a piss bottle yet?"

  "Yeah. It's called mother's homemade beer in a man's mouth."

  "?Ay, chingado! You are a gross little puta, Dedra."

  "I have my assets."

  "Seriously, I think I'm getting ready to explode." June squirmed uncomfortably.

  "Look, you might have to hold it in for a few minutes til I find a good spot."

  "Please make it quick."

  A mile farther and around a bend, a low bridge appeared spanning a rocky depression, a few trees and a boulder outcropping forming a suitable watering site. Prez pulled off the road and parked the van on a shallow ridge, the girls scrambled forth with a roll of toilet paper and disappeared past the trees. The guys, hearing cries of relief, decided they needed to use the facilities next. Dedra reappeared all smiles. "You have no idea how good that felt."

  "I can only imagine," said Bryan. After a minute, "Why is June taking so long?"

  "I don't know. She said something really strange about the mud or something. If she's not careful she's gonna ruin that dress. Kinda slippery down there."

  "Oh, there she is." He pointed and began descending to the trees. June had walked out to a large puddle amidst the rocks and, hiking her skirts up to mid-thigh, was kicking at the water. Thunder had been continually sounding and one rumble was reverberating endlessly, gathering into a low howling. A ground vibration caught his attention. "Oh, shit." He panicked when he saw it and leaped forward, screaming, "JUNE! GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE! RUN!"

  She looked up. "What?"

  "GET OUTTA THERE!" He stumbled backward when the water hit his ankles and he sickly remembered seeing June's face and thrashing arms as the ugly brown wall slammed into her. One horrible second later and she was gone.

  -

  Phoenix

  "You think you're frightening me

  with your hell, don't you?

  You think your hell

  is worse than mine."

  -Dorothy Parker

  XXIII

  "Shut your eyes and see."

  -James Joyce

  Still.

  Everything. Still.

  Somewhere there were?

  faint smells of gasoline and unknown shadows laughed?

  somewhere didn't matter whether there would be or not.

  She laughed. Vision.

  A clown daily jekyll and hyde 'whose little boy are you' laughed.

  Hands broken repair?

  Oh, shops with ancient illuminated neon clock swept time against a wall, dark, blur and focus a buzz electricity. Somewhere it doesn't matte
r whether dreams are real or not.

  A calm stream of civilization and a mad neon red sentry watchdog?

  "Do you know?"

  "know?"

  "Do you know where you are?"

  "where?no. am i somewhere?"

  "Good. Do you know who you are?"

  "no."

  "That's progress."

  "what is going on?"

  "Do you understand that you've been hurt?"

  "no."

  "Good."

  "why do you say that?"

  "Because you're finally comprehending my questions. You're getting better."

  "better. have i been laughing?"

  "Yes, quite a bit." He pressed one, then the other eyelid upward. "And you've been babbling incoherently for days."

  "why?"

  "You must tell me why."

  "uh, i can't."

  "That's OK. You shouldn't cry."

  "why?"

  "Do you understand that you are with another real human being?"

  "i don't know."

  "There now. No need to tire yourself. You need more rest."

  "i need?"

  "Yes?"

  "i laugh; therefore i am?"

  "Therefore you are."

  "i am."

  "Very good. So I am as well."

  "you laugh?"

  "Rest now."