(back to Chapter 2)
3.1.1 - Bhanar
3.1.2 - Fírí
3.1.3 - Bhanar
3.1.4 - Fírí
3.1.5 - Bhanar
3.1.6 - Fírí
3.2.1 - Vata
3.2.2 - Bhanar
3.2.3 - Fírí
3.2.4 - Vata
3.2.5 - Bhanar
3.3.1 - Fírí
3.3.2 - Tamé
3.3.3 - Vata
3.3.4 - Bhanar
3.3.5 - Umo
3.3.6 - Fírí
3.4.1 - Tamé
3.4.2 - Vata
3.4.3 - Bhanar
3.4.4 - Umo
3.4.5 - Fírí
3.5.1 - Séara
3.5.2 - Tamé
3.5.3 - Vata
3.5.4 - Bhanar
3.5.5 - Umo
3.5.6 - Fírí
on to Chapter 4!
To celebrate our successful move, we had champagne and cake Monday afternoon. That evening and all of Tuesday, I had intestinal pains that reminded me of the day after the Halloween party. I went home sick around midday. Different symptoms, but still painful symptoms. At the Halloween party, I only had cupcakes and drinks. Either there's some ingredient in cake that I have an intolerance for, or it's the alcohol, or it's just a coincidence. I'm back at work now, but still on soup and crackers, though.
My legs gave out and I tumbled to the ground, clothes flying everywhere. Sand in my mouth, grit in my eyes. My nose hurt. The desert wasn’t nearly so bright anymore. Sunset already? My arms and legs and face burned, pinpricks of fire dancing over my skin, telling me to stand up, get off the hot sand.
But I couldn’t move. I spat out sand, but my mouth remained dusty dry. An elephant stomped on my head. Repeatedly. My eyes throbbed.
“Fírí?” Deep and soft. Pí‘oro. He’d stopped, came back.
I tried to say, “Water,” but it came out, “Wah-uh.”
“Hold on, girl. Hold on.”
My back suddenly got cool. And then I flew. Air rushed past my face. Something firm against my gut, tight around my thighs. Hot on my back, cool on my front. the elephant kicked my brain harder and harder.
Jolts in my gut, flying between. I cracked my eyes open. Feet. Running. Old leather loafers. Pí‘oro. My hands almost hit his heels on every step. I couldn’t move them out of the way. Heavy fingers.
I turned my head slightly. Zhíno. Eyes closed. Face ruddy. Sunburnt already.
The slams in my belly kept coming. My intestines rose toward my throat. Or lowered. I was upsidedown. I was going to puke.
And then everything went white.
Yesterday was a fairly bad day for me, what with the pain from a blister on my heel, the annoyance of idiot salespeople, the aggrevation of inexplicable traffic jams and the street layout in Bellevue, the hassle of moving in to my new office, typical Monday madness, and a general malaise that settled in over the weekend.
But I made that all disappear in an instant by saying "Merry Christmas!" to a stranger. The weight lifted from my shoulders; I floated free of all that misery. I smiled.
I got back in the car. Lango opened an eye. “Well?”
“Main turns into East Crater Road.” I popped it into reverse, glanced in the mirror, gunned it in a sharp corner. Tires squealed. Into drive. Tires squealed again as we bumped back onto the street, turning south and barely missing a semi. “Hold on.”
Lango gripped the panic handle above the door. His face was frozen wide-eyed and mouth open. I smirked.
Green light. Left turn. “Look for addresses.”
Lango lowered his hand and closed his yap. “Um. . . 113.”
Still a ways to go. I hoped we wouldn’t be too late. The tow truck was supposed to be there a couple hours ago. If we hadn’t gotten lost here in town . . . or in Sukı‘ırupı . . . or accidentally gotten on the freeway in Paradanga. . . I sighed. Hopefully the small-town tow truck would be running late, too.
“901.”
How far out was 5430? We’d already left the “downtown” commercial district behind. Nothing but houses on both sides of the street. The speed limit raised ten. I was already going faster than that. So were all the locals, though, so at least this wasn’t a speed-trap town.
“2309.”
Semi-industrial area. Car lot full of pickup trucks. Cement factory. A plant nursery called “Downtown Floral.” The speed limit increased again. A tow truck came from the other way, rolling by with. . . “Isn’t that the car?”
I swung my leg over the horse, hopped with the other. I made it up on the first try, hugging the horse’s warm back so I didn’t fall off. Maybe I should’ve used a saddle. But bareback always worked in the movies. And it was quicker.
The horse eyeballed me, snorted.
“Oh, shut up. I know what I’m doing.”
I sat up slightly, nudged his ribs with my heels. He stood still awhile longer, but seemed to shrug and then walk forwards. The other horse neighed.
“Sorry, buddy. I only need one horse.” A slightly quicker horse, perhaps.
I kicked his ribs again and he moseyed faster. We emerged into the sun. The nearest gate was still closed. Wrong order, idiot. I pushed the horse with my knee and leaned the direction I wanted him to go and generally got him to walk to the gate and turn sideways. The latch was too low. My hand flailed a full foot short and I almost fell off. If I fell off now, I’d never get back on. The horse kept looking at me.
I was taking forever, but I consoled myself in the fact that once I got going, I’d catch them in no time.
I reached out with my bare foot, grabbed the latch between two toes, lifted. It worked. I kicked the big gate and it swung wide open.
“Ha!” I hugged the horse’s neck and kicked his ribs, willing him to run.
He walked out the gate, toward a nearby trail. I kicked again. He broke into a bouncy gait, nearly throwing me in the process. I held on tight, repeatedly being slammed by his spine. I hurt.
Scientists cook up cure for cow flatulence.
No longer will farms smell like farms...
The snow all melted away last night. I had a couple inches on my car as I drove home yesterday. I made a short snowman with it in my condo's parking garage. I ran over the remains of it this morning.
Boxes, boxes, everywhere! Only a couple people here are doing billable work. I'm one of them. Well, not this minute, but you know. They're shutting off the server at noon, which means I only have an hour and a half of email and internet and autocad drawings remaining today. I can box after that. I boxed half my stuff in 40 minutes yesterday...
The young foreigner jumped out the window, leaving me alone in the house. I couldn’t go chasing Zhíno and Fírí. My body just wasn’t capable. I had to trust the kids to do that for me. When they captured him, though, I had to be ready.
I shuffled down the hall to the chapel. I had to call Névazhíno. The only way I knew to do that was a sacrifice. Since this was a special request, it had to be a special sacrifice. Something big. One of the cows.
I left my slippers on the steps and crossed the chapel, cutting through the circle, over to the short hallway in the back corner. At the end of the hall stood a door. Actually, the entire end of the hall was the door––three meters tall and one-and-a-half wide. I pushed the lever down, slid the bolt out. The door swung smoothly open. I squinted in the sudden sunlight and stepped through, into the backyard. Two barefoot shuffles across the comforting soil, I stopped. Usually I guarded the door from any curious animals while Pí‘oro fetched the sacrifice. Two cats and a pig already crept and waddled to investigate. I swung the door almost closed, extended the bolt so it couldn’t latch. The door had no exterior knob. In fact, it had the same stucco finish as the rest of the wall. When it was closed, you wouldn’t even notice it.
I headed for the cowshed, my feet dragging through the rich earth. And then I noticed the back gate was wide open.
It's official! A union has taken over the Washington State government.
The state government is now firing people who don't pay union dues to the Washington Federation of State Employees.
Why does this remind me of mob "protection money"?
Add together getting a project to the printers this morning, our office moving tomorrow, and the snow falling down, I don't particularly feel like working right now and I'm certainly not the only one! The admin people are making weapons out of binder clips.
Now people are saying the snow's sticking to the pavement. Good thing I have chains in my trunk, eh?
The big white blob behind the parked car at right is a snowflake caught in the flash. Big wet snowflakes.
And here's Chandira. . .
It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!
Sorry, but here in Seattle, that's a Big Deal.
. . . Not that the snow is sticking to the ground yet. It's still above freezing here at sea level.
In my rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of Deputy Nulıpéshı giving me the evil eye. Then she disappeared.
I got out of the truck, walked back to hitch up the minivan. Séara ran around the side of the house. She’d been mad at me for moving her car, but luckily she had bigger snakes to trap.
I hooked up the van and lifted it up on the chain. This thing probably had front-wheel drive, which meant the front tires wouldn’t turn. Unless, of course, the transmission broke. I lifted my cap, mopped my forehead with my handkerchief. Aw, shucks. It served them right.
I got back in the cab, started forward slowly. The van didn’t move. Dead weight. I goosed the engine and we started dragging the van. I could feel its tires pushing gravel, bumping over it. The transmission wasn’t giving out yet. These Vurınos were built pretty tough.
I turned right on the road, passed the police car, and pulled off the pavement. Twin streaks of black traced their way from the driveway to the new gravel trenches from the van’s tires. Burned rubber stung my nose as I walked to the van.
I unhitched it and went back for the next car. It also faced the wrong way. A Huírupho. Foreign car. Probably that foreign kid’s. I didn’t think its transmission would hold up, but that kid was crazy and I had a job to do.
I hooked it up and towed it down the driveway. I was wrong about the transmission. I made another pair of tire marks, this time turning left across the highway.
At last, my quarry was unprotected.
Sotosoroto Husband, author, architect, king-abdicate, etc. etc. etc. |
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California Roadtrip, Summer 2006
Light Rail Neighborhood Density
The World Does Not Agree with You
Failure Should Never Be Rewarded
Thoughts on Illegal Immigration
I'm a Native American, Dammit!
More "Global Warming" Skepticism
Giant Solar System Model along I-90
Restaurant at the End of the Universe Movie Idea
