“Yeah,” Grace said. “I was going to say, could be, in the back, there’s a way out.”
“Great,” Cory said. “We go out the asshole riding on a turd. And drown.”
“That’s where Homer’s idea comes in,” Grace said.
“What idea was that?” James said. “I still don’t think I understand all I understand about that idea.”
“It’s about listening to the inside of our heads,” Grace said, and she let that hang in the air like a fart.
“I get it,” I said. “We work our way to the rear, hang around until we feel the change in our heads, in our ears. Then, it’s the asshole escape. Homer’s idea, but without a conventional door.”
“That’s right,” Grace said. “But we have to prepare ahead of time. We have to be sure there’s a way out back there. It may be there’s real fish guts to the rear. We might need floating devices of some sort.”
“Maybe the Scuts got life jackets,” Steve said.
“Funny,” Grace said, “but it’s some kind of idea. Otherwise, we live our lives in the belly of a fish. Just hanging around until an overwhelming crowd of hungry folk descend on us ready for dinner.”
“It’s possible we could get along with them,” James said. “We’ve seen and done some pretty strange stuff ourselves. I mean, shit, I can’t believe I’ve been fucked in the butt. That’s not something I’d do on a Saturday night back home. I even ate a dead baby once. Maybe twice. All right. Probably three times. And I saw two of them killed. So what makes me better than them?”
“You have to make yourself better,” Grace said. “We all do. We’ve all missed a step. We’ve done what we had to do to survive. But, I know me and Steve and Jack, we’ve tried to keep it together. Tried hard. Now we can keep trying, and the rest of you can try with us. If you want to stay here, that’s your choice. All of you. Me, I’m looking for a way out of the exhaust pipe.”
James nodded. “Guess so.”
“Hell,” Homer said. “I’m for it. It’s my idea, and I didn’t even know I had one.”
“How about everyone else?” Grace asked.
“I’m in,” I said.
“Me too,” Steve said. “I go where you go, honey.”
Cory raised a hand. “Count me in. But, maybe we could make some kind of deal with those guys up there. For some of that liquor. It tastes like boiled dogshit, but it makes you feel pretty good.”
“That’s one thing we don’t need,” Grace said. “Distractions.”
“So what’s the exact plan?” James asked.
“That’s a bit of a problem,” Grace said. “An exact plan hasn’t exactly come to me yet.”
“Then we all put our heads together,” I said, “come up with a more detailed plan.”
“It sounds iffy,” Cory said.
“Actually,” James said. “It sounds fishy.”
He looked a bit disappointed when no one laughed.
“It does,” I said. “But, I’m tired of being pushed around by this world. I want to push back. Let’s rustle up something to eat, then put our heads together and figure how to do what we want to do.”
7
We scrounged up some food. A few fish Ed had swallowed. We cut them open and ate them raw. I wondered if they too were lined with little wires, a combination of flesh and electricity.
After eating, first order of business was to see if the bus would start.
It wouldn’t.
Steve and Homer opened the hood and checked around under there.
“I think it’s just damp,” Homer said. “We got to get something to dry the inside of the carburetor, and such. Some rags would do it.”
“We’re wearing them,” I said.
“Everybody shuck,” Grace said.
We took off our clothes and stood butt-naked while Homer and Steve took our rags or animal wrappings and used them to dry the inside of the engine.
Well, we weren’t all butt-naked. I had shoes. And so did all the others. Grace’s were made of dried animal hides, as were Reba’s. I’m sure I looked ridiculous standing there wearing only shoes, and shoes where the soles would have flapped like tongues, had they not been tied up with twine and vines I had scrounged during our stay in the drive-in.
This drying business went on for awhile, and in time, our clothes, now greasy, were returned to us. I put my rags on, as did the others. Grace, however, decided her top was too greasy and threw it away.
It was enough to make me want to believe in a good god.
Almost.
After a bit, we all tuckered out, and I was feeling queasy on top of everything else. Sea sickness. I guess Ed from time to time swam faster and deeper, and perhaps slightly off-center.
We decided enough was enough, closed up the hood, and tried it again. It fired up. We drove it up close to the pile of cars, decided to rest. I went right to sleep. As always, there were thoughts and worries and dreams. I dreamed about the ghost of the drive-in. Where was it? Did it only mist about on the sea above us?
I dreamed of aliens with devices that seemed to be cameras, and maybe special effects instruments. Were they filming us? If there were lights inside this fish, why not cameras? Were we some form of exploitation film? A documentary on strange life placed in odd circumstances; a kind of reality show for the quivering, tentacled, green- faced masses that slithered above our sea and above our sky?
And then, in an instant, it came to me, like the flash of an old-fashioned camera, one of those kind that made the eyes go bright, then see white, then turn one temporarily blind. In that instant, I knew for a fact that a truth was thrust upon me. Something inside me put it all together, worked it all out, took hold of it and held it and saw the insides of everything that was, and there was a revelation. I knew how the universe worked. To be more precise, I knew how my universe worked. I was astonished. I was elated.
And then I awoke, it was lost to me, fleeing fast from my memory like dark water down a drain. I felt as empty as a eunuch’s nut sack. I lay there on the hard bus seat and tried to call it all back to me, but it was like calling a deaf hound dog. That buddy had done run off and was gone.
I pulled my arm from over my eyes and sat up in my seat, and was startled.
The bus was surrounded by the fish cave folks. There were even a couple on the hood, their faces pressed up against the glass, looking in.
One of those on the hood was Bjoe. He was on his knees with both hands on the glass, sort of cupped, and his forehead was pressed up against them, and he was looking in.
I must have let out a startled sound, because Reba, who was lying on the seat across from me, sat up, saw them, and let out a loud noise herself. Pretty soon we all stirred.
Grace, who was in a seat near the front, rose up and looked around. Her naked breasts took my mind off of the fish cave folk for a pleasant moment. She didn’t look self-conscious at all. “What do you want?” she said loudly to the glass.
Bjoe put a hand to his ear.
Grace repeated herself.
Bjoe stuck the tip of a finger against the glass. It was pointing in her direction.
“Why?” Grace said.
Bjoe just smiled.
Grace shook her head. More of the fish cave fol k cl imbed onto the hood and pressed against the glass, thick as a grape cluster. All of us were out of our seats now.
Cory said, “Maybe they just want to talk?”
“They don’t look as friendly as before,” Steve said.
“They’ve had time to think about us,” Cory said. “Probably been comparing long pig recipes.”
“Ain’t no different than the rest of us,” James said. “I’ve eaten dead bodies. I’ve cannibalized.”
“Yes,” Reba said, “but those bodies were dead. We aren’t.”
