MORMO STEPS IN

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Docker and Mist's heart-to-heart turns ugly. She gets an unexpected ally.  Well, two actually.

"Damn!  I told you.  Nothing's going on.  You're bugging me with your bullshit," he said, bouncing his leg.

            "Stop doing that if you want me to sit here.  You drop a lot of speed?"

            "Oh, she changes the subject.  Good.  Had loads of work to do, kiddo, before the ground freezes."  He brushed a strand from my cheek.  "So what were we talking about besides you thinking I'm some big bad guy?  How can I prove to you I'm not into anything except you, baby," he sighed, eyes hypnotic, locked on mine.

            "Spend more time with me, then,"  I said, "I thought that was why you wanted me to come with you, to be alone with you.  As long as I'm not, why do your friends ignore me?  They treat me like I'm invisible."

            "I know you aren't, baby.  Isn't that what counts?"  He squeezed my thigh, moved his hand to the front pocket of my jeans where I carried No-Face's mirror in case I ran into her.  "What's this?" he said, probing it through the fabric.

            "It's nothing."  We stood up.

            "Come on!  Let me see.  If it's nothing, let me see.  Why're you hiding it from me?"

            "I'm not hiding it!"  Holding me tightly, he jammed his fingers into my pocket as I struggled to get away, and pulled out the mirror. 

            "How did you get this?"  Holding it an inch from my face, he pushed me backwards.  "How did you get this?"  My mind went blank.

            "Someone must have dropped it," I blurted, afraid to blink, afraid I'd say the wrong thing.  "I found it, but I don't know who it belongs to or I'd return it." 

            "Why didn't you ask me?"

            "I don't know, all right!"  Docker slipped the mirror into his shirt pocket, holding me with one arm. 

            "It's No-Face's.  I'll see she gets it."  To diffuse the moment, I asked him how she got that name.  She had put me off the other day when she'd cornered me by the creek and scared me with her paranoid bullshit.  Sitting on a stool with one foot on the floor and the heel of his boot hooked on a rung, he drew me towards him.  Sighing deeply, he looked to the far wall.

            "She was going out with bro Waverly," he explained, "He came by on a date and she told him he'd have to wait till she put her face on.  He called her 'No-Face' from then on.  It stuck.  Anyway, I'll get her mirror to her."  I knew better than to ask what happened to his brother; still, I could have kicked myself for what came out of my mouth instead.

            "I bet you will.  I've seen you two together."

            "Whoa!  Do I detect a note of jealousy there, babe?  Nothing's going on between us.  She wants to fuck me, but it's not reciprocal.  What can I say?  Anyway," he released his words in a long exhale, "Go on, let it all hang out.  So you feel like you're invisible, and?-"  I took a deep breath.

            "People talk about other stuff that makes me feel like you're into something really bad, besides my so-called nightmare."

            "Tell Daddy everything.  It's okay."  He ran a finger alongside my ear, traced my jawline.  I had sworn to Linda I wouldn't tell.  So I lied. 

            "That first night we were here, I slept outside, you know, 'cause the kids were on one mattress and Linda and Pal- .Anyway, I found some blankets.  It was nice waking up underneath the trees."

            "Go on."  He kissed my cheek.

            "It was a little cold," I went on, allowing myself to nestle against his chest, recalling that, though warned against it, he didn't go ballistic when I told him what Sandman and Hairball did to the boys.  "Hard to sleep.  I heard some of the others talking.  They said that once, when you were up here during a bliz--"

            The blow came, slamming me against the wall.  I felt myself crumpling to the floor.  Multiple Dockers hovered over me.  It seemed as though I were looking at everything through a red filter and someone was working a pile-driver inside my skull.  I shook my head to clear it and saw Docker suddenly rise into the air and sail backwards.  Mormo had come in, had come up behind him, lifted him by his armpits and deposited him in his chair, like a mom putting her kid in a high-chair.   

            "You fucking shit."  I  clenched my teeth so hard they ground together. "Why did you hit me?"  My right hip and shoulder ached; I felt tears streaming down my face.

            "Leave her alone.  Don't hurt her," Mormo grunted.

            "You're soft on the lady, eh?"  Docker made to rise.  The big man held his boss down.  Pal burst in, waving his gun at Mormo.

            "Say the word, Boss, and he's gone!"  He laughed, swiveling around and aiming his gun at Mormo, then me.  Linda, right behind Pal, hustled over and knelt at my side.

"Shoot me.  Go ahead," she said, "If you're gonna shoot anybody, shoot me!"  Pal held the gun with both hands, elbows locked, knees bent.

"Stash the gun, man," Docker said, moving his shoulders.  Mormo released his grip.  Linda put her arms around me.  I caught the odor of decomposing sea life and stale semen from the neck of her blouse and choked back the urge to vomit.  Docker stretched out his legs, folded his arms across his chest, "Ain't we all a nice happy family."

Next:  Mist has had it.  She resolves to leave.  Docker verbally and physically convinces her to stay.

MIST'S NEXT MOVE: Did she really see what she thought she saw? Or was this another instance of her inability to separate the real from the surreal?

From the loft the night before, I believed  I saw  . . . . Oh, I had to look again try to find some evidence.    So, I crawled to the edge of the loft and peered down, not believing what I'd witnessed during the night.  But I saw no evidence of a fight or the knifing.  Could I have been dreaming?  It seemed so real.  Where was everybody?  The place smelled of freshly brewed coffee.  Pine branches rustled in the wind; a thrush called once, then again.  I dressed, climbed down the ladder, and scanned the floor for bloodstains.

            "Lose something, baby?"  I jumped.  The room spun.  I braced myself against the table.     "Docker, I didn't hear you come in."  He held me, rocked me.  His skin felt dry and exuded an odor of a smoldering electrical fire. 

            "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?  I'm worried about you.  Glad to see you up and around."  His jaw made a weird popping sound; he spoke rapidly, "You were out for a couple of days, you know."

            "What?"  I tried to push away.  "That's bullshit.  What is going on?"

            "Baby, calm down.  Come on."  I looked up into his face, then rested my cheek on his chest.  His heart beat fast like he'd been running uphill.  He shifted from one foot to the other; his heavy arms felt hot through my shirt.  I closed my eyes and tried to think, recall everything that went down since my meeting with No-Face.

            "I couldn't have blacked out," I said, my breath coming back to me rank and moist from his sunshine and sweat infused flannel shirt.  "I remember we made love.   Then I heard this really loud noise and you jumped down from the loft to check it out.  There was a fight."  I shook my head.  "I thought I saw Pal do something really horrible.  That's all I remember." 

            "What did he do?"

            "He slit a man's throat- the coalition leader's.  You were right there."  Docker shoved me back and stared into my eyes.  A crease deepened between his eyebrows; he licked his lips.

            "He what?  Wait wait wait.  Pal did what?"  Running his fingers through his hair, he circled around, boots clomping on the wooden floor.  "What the holy fuck are you talking about?  You are putting me on, baby.  You had a nightmare, hallucination.  We smoked some strong pot- laced with acid, I admit.  Man, we fucked and you came and you screamed, baby.  They could hear you in LA.  Then you went out like a light."  He snapped his fingers, stopped circling and leaned back on the bar, folded his arms on his chest and crossed one leg over the other.

            "But the crash, those guys-" I said, lowering myself to a chair.

            "What guys?"  He pushed away from the bar, raised me up by my elbows, and put his arms around me.

            "Everything seemed so real," I said, "like a lucid dream.  Inside the dream, you know  you're dreaming, so you try to wake up.  This wasn't like that.  I thought I was wide awake.  I could've sworn I saw Pal . . .   It was awful.  Blood everywhere.  I didn't remember falling asleep after we made love."  With a start, I recalled only then what Linda told me.  He sensed my fear.

            "What's wrong?"

            "There was something else-"  I said, resisting the impulse to ask about Darlene.

            "It had to be the weed, Sally," he broke in, nuzzling his forehead against mine.  I twisted from his arms and started for the door.  He caught my hand and gently drew me back.  "Where do you think you're going, sweetheart.  Don't be silly.  Would I let anything happen to you?  Would I?  Fuck.  How could you actually think we'd kill somebody!  Man!  I think you're losing it, baby.  Sit down here.  Here, I'll get you a cup of coffee.  Here, sit down.  Sit here."  He indicated his chair, which he'd slid to one side of the bar.  "I gotta go back out soon's I get something and straighten out some folks.  I'll be right back.  Are you going to be okay?  Now I'm afraid to leave you alone."  He poured me a cup and handed it to me.  I sipped my coffee, watching him hoist himself up to the loft.  In less than a minute he slid back down the ladder, holding an empty trash bag.  He winked.  "Don't move!" he said, and walked out, leaving me to watch scenes in my head of me and Linda.  My stomach heaved when the image of Pal and that guy rose up in my mind.  Was her story about Jody's kids and Darlene all a dream, too?

            I sat for what seemed like a half-hour with my feet up on a chair, savoring the steaming brew and the stillness, gazing across the room, trying to make sense of the past few days, I felt my heart slow to a walk.  Then I saw it.  I swung my feet to the floor and leapt up fast, sloshing coffee down the front of my shirt.  I had been standing on the very spot, a dark stain in the shape of Australia.  But I couldn't be certain it wasn't coffee from when Docker threw his cup against the wall.  I was about to bend down for a closer look when he came in.

            "You smell like coffee," he said, holding me around my waist.

            "Yeah, I still must be really spaced.  Spilled some on my shirt."  I pulled at it, feeling my lips quiver when I tried to smile, and set my cup on the bar.

            "Like a kid," he said, clicking his tongue.. 

            "Where are Linda and Pal?"  My voice sounded reedy.  "The kids?"

            "They're with the others, kids are with Morm'.  Why're you so interested all of a sudden?  You don't seem to like my friends that much.  You're freaked, man.  Feel like I gotta fucking baby-sit you."  As he spoke, shallow breaths ruffled my hair.  I knew what I wanted.  Grounded by caffeine, I launched into my spiel with the detachment of a flight attendant giving emergency instructions.

            "I want to go home," I said, "I feel weird, I don't know.  Not being able to tell the difference between a nightmare and reality scares me.  I don't feel like myself.  Do you think . . ." I paused, took a deep breath and went on, "Just show me the road out and I'll drive to the nearest town so I can catch a bus.  You guys can pick up the car later.  I didn't know we were going to be here this long.  We can hook up when you get back to the City."  He threw his head back and roared, sat down and pulled me on to his lap.

            "Oh, honey," he said, chuckling, smoothing my hair with his long fingers, "You are funny.  Know that?  What road?  There is no road."  My heart flipped.  I tried to push him away and stand up.  He tightened his hold.

            "Come on.  Stop teasing me.  How did we get here?"

            "Will you calm down.  I'm serious.  Don't worry.  When it's time to go, we'll go.  And, babe, I'm sorry.  You hurt my feelings, I thought you'd like it here."  He cupped the back of my head in his hand and pressed my forehead against his chest.  "Quiet.  Peaceful.  In the heart of nature- trees, sunshine, fresh air, birds.  But I am so sorry.  Why do want to leave me?"  He leaned back and took my fingers from my lips; his green eyes held mine.  "Honey, everything's fine.  We'll be leaving soon.  It's been so nice with you up here."

            "It's not just you," I said, lowering my head, "I can't help it.  It's this place, your buddies.  I never know- I had no idea you were so moody, besides . . .But one thing for sure, I have to cool it with the drugs.  No more gory nightmares."  I felt air stream out of my mouth in a rush.

            "Hey, baby, you were always right there with us, toking, stoking your nose, man.  No one's putting a gun to your head.  There's nothing to be afraid of except what's going on in your own mind-"

            "-No one pays attention to me, except the kids," I cut in.

            "Ho, now!  That's your ego talking, doll.  Up here, you gotta let go of it."  He flung out his arms.  "Let go of everything."  He played with my hair, put his nose in it, inhaled, then let out his breath.  "Your hair always smells so clean.  I love these red highlights." 

            "Be straight with me," I said, searching his face, "If you're involved in whatever, just tell me so I can deal with it."
To be Continued.  Next installment:  Mist chances asking Docker more questions; what he finds in Mist's pocket and the result.  Her insistence to get more information about him and his "buddies" does not bode Mist well. . . . . . .

Mist's Talks with No-Face continued. . .

We left Mist in the woods with No-Face, a nervous, paranoid woman who warns Mist that if she stays, she could end up dead.

"Get out of here," No-Face whispered, "The sooner the better."

"What?  What are you talking about.  You're just saying that because of Docker.  You want him for yourself.  That's why you want me to leave.  I've seen you with him."

"No.  I mean, yes.  I told him you don't belong here.  You're not, well, like us.  He said I should mind my own business if I wanted to see tomorrow.  Listen, you better mind yours about what happened today, too."  She looked around, then spoke rapidly, "I'm taking a chance talking to you.  If you stay, they'll, they'll kill you.  No one will ever find out.  You don't know what goes on.  They think I don't know.  They offed his brother Waverly because he wanted out.  He got sick of what these people do.  Docker, he-"  I touched her arm; she was trembling.  In the early moonlight, tears glistened on her face. 

            "What on earth are you saying?  He what?  What?  What do you mean they'll kill me?  Like Darlene?"  She put her fist to her mouth.  Her eyes were terrible.  She shook her head and cupped her palms to her face, stifling her cries.

            "I can't --This is no place for you," she said, her voice muffled by her hands, "You don't know what they do.  Those kids . . ."

            "You're scaring me.  Who killed Waverly?  Tell me about Docker?  Does it have anything to do with what that guy said when he tried to whip Billy-Bob?"  I grabbed her shoulders.  "What about the kids?  Docker's boys?  Tell me."  She wept quietly.  "What's wrong with you?  This is too much."  My patience was running out.  I turned away for a second and came back.  "Why should I believe you?  What about you?"  I pulled her close, shocked by her thinness, and stroked her hair, trying to calm her.  A night-bird trilled; an owl hooted from its low perch.  My heart pounded. 

"It's too late.  Get help for the boys," she whispered, emphasizing her words by pushing her head into my chest, "Please, please, get away and save yourself.  The briefcase."

"What about it?  Why is it too late?  You're not making any sense."  She didn't answer.  I took her hand; it was dry and icy-cold.  She was shaking so hard I didn't want to push her anymore, afraid she'd crack.  At the sound of movement nearby, she started and pulled her hand from mine.  Through the shrubs, I could see the kids shifting around, waiting.

"Sally, what're you doing?"  Billy-Bob's voice filtered through the leaves.  He pushed aside branches and stepped through.  .

"It's just Billy-Bob and the other two, No-Face," I said.  I didn't want the kids to hear what she was saying.  "Look, it's getting really cold.  I've got to get them back to the cabin."  I hugged her, wondering if she'd done so much speed it made her squirrelly.

            "Please, please, please --"

            "I have to go.  I'll be back in a few minutes.  Wait for me."  She collapsed to the earth, shuddering.  At a loss, I stood over her for a moment.

            I sneaked the kids to the cabin, gave them over to Mormo, then rushed back.  She was gone.  On the ground, a glittering object caught my eye.  I stooped down and picked up a small, silver-framed mirror.  Brushing off loose soil, I turned it over in my hands, gazed into it, then shoved it into my jeans pocket.

A cabin like Docker's built into mountain foothills

            That night, lying beside Docker, I mulled over what she had said.  How much of it was true about Docker and Waverly?  How could he have his own brother whacked.  And Darlene? Yet there was the Mafia, civil wars, politics of oppression where people betray friends and family because of ideological and religious differences.  And didn't crime statistics show that most homicides occur between relatives?  Why would they want to kill me?  The briefcase, she said.  What was in it?  Another thing: the kids.  Docker said the boys were his and I assumed the red-head was Linda's.  But what did that dude mean by damaged goods?  What I'd overheard the first night came back to me.  Then I recalled the scene with Billy-Bob near the creek when I asked him about his father's strictness; the way he shut up Papa Jo, the look in his eyes.  Tadpole's melancholy.  I shivered.  I didn't want to think anymore.

            I pulled a joint from the stash bag on the floor.  Docker woke up.  I told him what the men did to the boys, that someone hit me with a bottle. "Oh, hon, I'm sorry," he crooned, sleepily, "Leave it to me, I'll take care of the bitches.  But those jerks were just fooling around, they can't hurt the runts."  We lay there smoking, then made love.  He was so tender, so loving and gentle.  And even in the dark I could look into his eyes -- devoted, soft, like a nursing babe's I'd seen once on a bus nuzzling up to its mom..  Docker whispered how he would love me and be with me always and never let anything happen to me.  He'd protect me.  "'Cause I love you so much, baby, I don't know what I'd do without you."  I wanted to believe him.  In his arms, I forgot everything; forgot about seeing him with No-Face, forgot what she'd said about Waverly.  Docker never talked about him.  I pushed what that bartender had told me eons ago out of my mind.  No-Face is paranoid and jealous, really jealous -- trying to turn me against Docker; and the men, stone spooked, drugged out of their skulls.  And lots of kids are scared of their dads.

           A deafening sound, like furniture thrown.  Docker jumped up, pulled on his pants and slid down the ladder.  On the other side of the loft, Linda sighed.  Pal groaned, "What the holy hell is fuckin' going fuckin' on?"  He dressed hurriedly and swung down, joining Docker below.  The boys were dead to the world.  I drew on my shirt and jeans and leaned over the platform.  On the bar, the battery lamp shed its bluish light on the scene, casting Docker's looming shadow against the wall, like an enormous undersea creature, exaggerating the peaks of flesh on his bare shoulders.  The overturned table and chairs lay helter-skelter; a couple of men paced in front of the door.  I glanced at Linda on her mat, forearm across her eyes; stiff, dark blonde hair spread out around her head.

"Shitshitshitfuck.  Shit!  God, fuck this, man," she hissed.  

"Pal!  Let him loose."  I heard Docker shout.  I looked down and saw a guy in a quilted jacket and blue jeans, his head covered with a dark knit cap, leaning against the wall, his gear in a pile in front of him.  Mormo hulked nearby.

"Morm', how'd they get in?" Docker said.

"Broke lock.  Toss stuff at me when I try to keep them out-"

"Ya gotta let us in," the man interrupted, whining, "We almost froze our balls off out there last night, man.  I'm not asking for just us, y'know, it's for our kids."

            "You don't give a shit about your kids.  It's your own asses you're worried about.  Now get out.  Pick up this shit and get the fuck outta here!  You'll come in when I fucking say so."  Docker pointed to the door.

            "Hey, man, we got a coalition-"

            "A what?"  He dropped his arm and stepped toward the man.

            "A coalition.  They're outside.  How long we gonna be up here, this time?  We don't want what went down last-"

"Ah, ha!  Beats all."  Docker laughed.  "You're outside a couple fucking nights, you lousy bunch of sissies, and you got yourselves a coalition.  And fuck last time- This is Now!  We're here for as long as it fucking takes, asshole.  As long as I fucking want.  I don't wanna hear about fucking last time. You know what happens if you try to split, so don't even fucking think about it."  The men continued to shout.  I saw Pal slam the guy's shoulders against the wall. 

            "We didn't make any fucking promises to nobody, man."  Docker spoke quietly now, in even, measured tones.  "All we said was up here everyone's for his-fuckin'-self.  Everyone gets his share when the deal's done.  Dig?  Anyone don't like it, say so now.  I'm not fucking going to repeat myself."

"Hey, Docker, 'scuse me, but you said we could use the cabin, 'member?  After we found Jody's kids . . ."  I couldn't tear my eyes away.  Docker slapped the top of the bar with the flat of his hand, making a sound like the crack of a gun.

Linda scooted beside me, naked breasts swinging, both of us smelling of sweat and sex.  Her shoulder brushed mine.  I leaned close, shocked to see for the first time the flesh just below her waist formed an intricate scalloped chain, attached across her abdomen, from one hip to the other.  I shook off the distraction of wondering if No-Face and the other women bore the same, and if it interfered . . . .

"What happened last time?" I insisted.  Her eyes registered the struggle of whether or not to trust me.  She opened her mouth, closed it and turned away, shaking her head.  Whispering hypnotically, she addressed the back wall as though divesting herself of the onus of speaking directly to me.  Below, the men continued to argue.

           "I have had it!" she said, "I'm sick of it.  Two kids froze to death.  They had colds.  We'd come 

up right after Labor Day once for only a month or  so till things cooled down, so the Members 

couldn't trace the goods.  There was an early snowstorm.  Bad one.  Docker wouldn't let anyone in."  

 She paused.  Her face now in profile, she looked at me out of the corner of her eye.  I rested my hand

on her shoulder.  She jerked away.

            "I shouldn't've told you."  She looked me full in the face, eyes huge . "You're an Outsider.  You'll tell Docker, I know.  He'll kill me.  Just like-"  She could've touched me with an exposed wire. 

            "He killed Darlene?  So it's true?  No-Face said-"

            "She told you?  That bitch!"

            "She didn't say-"

            "Shut up!"  I heard her jaw snap. "That cunt!"

            "Tell me.  Please.  Did he?  If he finds out I know, it'll be because you told him.  I swear I won't tell him.  Please.  Trust me."  The hair on my arms stood on end.  I remembered what Sandman had said.  "And what 'goods' are you talking about?" 

            "I've got to get out of here, away from you.  They know we're up here alone together,"   What little color showed in her face drained away.  Blue veins pulsed in her temples.  She scuttled backwards on her heels and the palms of her hands like a crab.  She pulled on her clothes and boots, dragged a filthy comb through her hair, grabbed her leather bomber, and descended the ladder into the melee below.  I wanted to follow her and keep on going straight out the door.  I looked down and saw Pal draw a knife across the coalition spokesman's throat.  Blood spurted in his face, on Mormo, everywhere.  I don't remember what happened next.

               I awoke to silence in unbearable heat, naked on the mattress, not knowing where I was.  Then I remembered and felt like Mormo was sitting on my chest . . . .    Was it a dream?  Was I really out for two days?  To be continued:
Mist discovers more horrors and starts planning her escape.