Stone Junction

imagine his mind. The thought cracked him up.

Kenny eyed him nervously. ‘What got you off, man?’

‘I was trying to imagine my mind.’

‘Yeah, I know – it’s weird, huh? Like a TV watching itself, or a slot machine playing itself, shit like that.’

‘Shit like that,’ Daniel repeated, still chuckling.

Kenny, eyes back on the road, seemed almost solemn. He nodded his head once, as if confirming a decision, and turned to Daniel. ‘I got a deal for you, Herman, a stone guarantee. Why don’t you hook up with me for awhile, ride some patrol. I can get you decent work in the casino if you want some play money, but if you’d rather kick back I’ve got an extra bunk and lots of rations. I’m no fucking Julie Child, but I cook good enough I don’t use nothing from cans.’

Sobered by the offer, Daniel said, ‘I’m honored, but I have a mission of my own. Maybe when it’s over, I’ll take you up on it.’

‘What’s your mission, man. This some of that “religious zeal” stuff?’

‘Some, I guess. You see, I found the Grail––’

‘Say what?’ Kenny cocked his ear. ‘The Grail?’

‘Like the Holy Grail,’ Daniel said.

‘You mean like in the Knights of the fucking Round Table? Some kind of trophy cup from God or something like that? I always dug those knights thundering off to lance some flipped-out dragon. Foxworth used to laugh at me about it. Said, “Fuck dem knights and da round table. Thas a lot of hard riding fo’ not much pussy.” I told him pussy wasn’t the point. The point was the quest, fighting your way through. He said, “Thas cool wi’ me, Kenny. You quest it, I’ll fuck it.” That was Foxworth, man, pussy and music. Fucking Foxworth. Ate a Claymore at Song Be. Heard about it from a guy in the VA, bed next to––’ Kenny stopped, lifting his hands from the wheel in a helpless shrug. ‘Sorry, man,’ he apologized. ‘I shit all over your riff. I get spaced here at night. Get the diarrhea jaws.’

Daniel said, ‘I understand. No problem.’

‘So anyway, before I went drifty, you were saying you’re after this Grail, right?’

‘Not exactly. I found the Grail – not the Holy Grail, but one like it. My mission is to figure out what to do with it.’

‘Fuck, man! Hang on to it.’

‘I thought of that first, too,’ Daniel said, ‘but now I’m convinced hanging on to it is the one thing I can’t do.’

‘I know some people in Vegas who could move it for thirty percent, if what you mean is too hot to hang on to. Free introduction, just to help a brother get clear.’

‘Not necessary. It can’t be sold or bought or stolen or kept. But maybe it can be opened.’

‘Got a torch in the shop,’ Kenny offered.

‘No, wouldn’t do it, but thanks for the thought. I’ll find a way, I’m sure.’

‘Right on, brother. One way or another, blow the walls down. Soul belongs to Jesus but your ass belongs to the Corps. Any way I can help you, call the Shamrock and let me know. I’ll ride in like the fucking cavalry, my iron flipped to rock’n’roll. Me and fucking Foxworth, man, we had this secret army, all the drug-suckers and wailing fools, the loonies and the lonely and the desperately fucked up, a secret army of us called The Brotherhood of the Hideous Truth. Foxworth was the supreme commander, and I was his field general, General Chaos he called me. Only had one rule for meetings. They couldn’t begin until everyone was too stoned to stand up and salute the flag. Fucking Foxworth, man …’

Daniel listened till he could almost imagine Foxworth sitting between them, drinking Bacardi with beer chasers, grinning at his certain knowledge that of the five billion adult human beings on the planet, over half had pussies – and even if that wasn’t the ultimate point, it surely offered reason to live.

At Daniel’s insistence, Kenny let him off near dawn in the middle of nowhere, just road and sagebrush as far as you could see.

‘Look me up any time, man; I’ll be there,’ Kenny reminded him as Daniel got out.

‘Shoot straight,’ Daniel said.

Kenny raised a clenched fist. ‘Now you got the spirit. Semper fi, bro’.’ Daniel smiled and started to close the door. ‘Whoa, mofo! You forgot your bowling ball. Get your shit squared away, son. There’s a war on.’ He handed the bag out to Daniel with a wink. ‘How can you bowl ’em over without a fucking ball? That’d be like going questing without a lance.’

‘Indeed,’ Daniel said as he took the Diamond back. ‘Thanks again.’

Kenny swung the Trans-Am across the center divider and headed back to Las Vegas. The loss of Daniel’s company depressed him. In that vanished month as Death’s Chauffeur, Kenny had developed an acute sensitivity to the thin musky odor released in the breath of those who would die soon. Kenny shook his head dolefully. ‘You stupid jaw-jacking shithead, he was the best bait you’ve had in fifteen years and you fucked it up just like you’ve fucked up everything. Get your shit squared away, boy; there’s a war going down.’ He remembered saying the same thing to Daniel. When he thought about it, he realized those were the last words Foxworth had ever said to him. Fucking Foxworth. He started crying again.

Gurry Debritto smiled as he finished decoding the transmission. He put the message with the others his West Coast listeners had picked up. If the locations were accurate – his subcontractors were the best in the world – the Diamond had been flown to Seattle, driven by van to Coos Bay, Oregon, and was now on an unnamed ship seventy miles due west of the mouth of the Smith River, headed down the coast. He reread the last transmission:

SAIL AWAY. PROBLEMA. FIRST NEST FOULED. BACKUP SHAKY. SAME BAY AND DAY BUT SHIFT STORAGE OKIE TURF 107772400. SHINE ON HARVEST MOON. BLT T GO.