copyright by Burl Dunn
People don’t credit the American Southwest and that’s just
how I hope it stays. I can drive on state and county roads for over an hour and
not pass another car. I can pull into a “natural attraction” and be the only
person there. I mean, like ones with lined parking lots and those functional
national park toilets. I hate the current bullshit that says the United States
of America will not pay to have, say a once a week inspection and, if
necessary, cleaning of these simple, but essential constructions. We’re
probably paying Halliburton a million dollars a shot to throw them up all over
Iraq or Afghanistan. Hum, on second thought, we’re probably paying Haliburton a
BILLION dollars a shot to throw up anything - but something half as useful.
I’ve seen some locked toilets on federal highways where
folks just must say “F*U*” and the ground is disgusting. You may say, “Oh these
disgusting people,” but I think they’re, like, “I pay my taxes and I can’t even
find a place to take a s***!”
“This is America?” says James out loud to his dog Ely
pronounced (LE). They hike up the trail whose parking lot this is and do the
natural in more discreet locations, in holes James digs with the heel of his
boot.
James learned the distance/people ratio years ago when he
hiked the Grand Canyon several times a year. The further one walks away from
pavement, the fewer people there are. I mean, like, even in a huge
international tourist attraction like the Grand Canyon. Less than a mile down
the Bright Angel Trail (the two-lane highway of Grand Canyon Trails) you leave
behind about 90% of the people who set foot on the trail at the rim. A full
mile down and you’re in the elite 1%. Keep going past the Indian Gardens
campsite (about halfway to the bottom) and you are one of the few, the proud,
the Intrepid Travelers. In fact, if you are an American who is sick of your
fellow Americans - the ones that are on TV and news, you know ... just take a
hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and you can meet a delightful bunch of
young Europeans and Asians. The few Americans in the mix are most likely the
cool ones.
James was sick of his fellow Americans.
One album (over and over) and four hours later, James and
Ely pull off an exit of I-40. The next right-turn and they’re on old Route 66!
But then, Jim sees a real old Route 66 sign out his passenger side window. The
old Route 66, the sign actually says, “Prehistoric Route 66,” twisted in a
different way. There is a little blockade, easily driven around, and the two
are on the Mother Road! It’s pockmarked and twisty. I mean 15 mph twisty.
They descend. There’s some lava rocks, some big, but hidden by the lush growth
of bushes. There’s some stream-bed-smooth rock. Then a big hole and it’s time
to turn around. Or get out. James and Ely get out. Ely bounds around like a pup
as James heads down the smooth stone stream bed.
It was once a riverbed. You can see the signs of a
high-water event and imagine… Off to the sides you are surrounded by lava tubes
and lava rocks. It is the El Malpais of New Mexico – but outside the Park
Service and BLM jurisdictions. Once among the lava there had been some ancient
limestone. And now there were some ancient limestone caves. James cavorted
in and out of shallow cave after cave, but it was when Ely disappeared that the
wonder had been rediscovered.
The wonder of one kid in the 1800s they later called
Billy… Damn it, it’s New Mexico. I don’t have to make this shit up… This cave
had a bunch of air holes over about 80 acres. The land on top was bad as bad
can be. But if you happened to find yourself way out here you might just
collapse from heat exhaustion right by an old cactus. And hidden by that cactus
is a golf-ball size hole and from that hole you feel a cool breeze. Ely started
with that, except she was nowhere near doggie heat exhaustion. Her massive
tongue was a sight to see and it was only half out as she lithely bounded
around.
Then she found the opening. Before Billy there had been a
young Dine boy … a Navajo ashkii who later spent his last years chanting and
praying in that wondrous cave with the tiny opening. Before that there must
have been some Anasazi. Pot shards were there, the treasures of the Four
Corners that must always remain where they are found. Ely went in and barked.
James heard the muffled echo and freaked. “Ely! Ely!” Ely emerged and licked
his hand. And James had seen from whence she had emerged like some ancient
story of a creation myth, like some baby emerging from Mama.
Only in this story one is reborn by crawling back
INTO Mama!
James crawled in.
You could stand up within three feet, but nothing larger than a back pack or a
guitar would fit the entrance. Inside were many rooms. And a well. At high
water there was a pond over the well. At very high water would the entire
cave fill? James was already thinking along these lines.
While wandering the rooms in the cavern looking for high
spots and signs of safety from flooding, James began to notice that there were
light sources from the ventilation shafts. Some had a bright light for a short
time. Most had at least a filtered light all day. Finally, James came to
another well only this one was more of a pit. It seemed that high flowing water
might drop down and out at this point. Maybe there was a lot of drinking water
here. So James decided to chance it.
He began weekly trips stashing the cave with baking
soda, pinto beans, lard, and flour – all the simple old pioneer
basics. He could have been getting ready for a wagon train trek in 1800. On a
whim he bought some catfish fry and put them in the pond. He sprinkled the top
with cheap dry cat food to feed the fish. He bought some cheap water filters to
make his drinking water totally safe. Under one of the ventilation holes he set
up a small cook stove. Cooking would be a night time activity. He would carefully
make hot fires that put out the least smoke.
As he stocked the cave he didn’t think about living there,
but rather having a hideout in which to escape the world from time to time.
Some people spend a million dollars on a vacation home. James wasn’t even close
to spending a few thousand yet and he was already running out of things he
might need down there. His kitchen and larder were set. He was adding grains
like Buckwheat groats and rice. Coffee, sugar, canned milk - all his food
was in tight containers and would keep well. His sleeping area was high
and dry.
He was learning the network of “windows” as he called them
and had a routine of moving from room to room to enjoy the light as the day
progressed.
Ely, of course had her stash of food and a little bed.
After almost 6 months of establishing his underground bunker James began to
wonder about the logistics of living there. When he had the place fully stocked
what could he reasonably expect? To live there a year? Then what? He didn’t
know, but he put a thousand dollars in a safety deposit box. “Coming out
money,” he called it. To get a motel room, clean up, get a haircut and look for
a job.
Who am I kidding? Who will hire me? What do I say about
the missing year? Pretty hit or miss. And it’d be a hard thing to leave the
cave and then become a homeless street bum in Albuquerque.
There needed to be a grubstake. One thousand dollars is
not a grubstake. One Hundred Thousand sounded better. But how to get it?
James never had a criminal mind before, but he was
starting to think about victimless crimes. He couldn’t imagine getting
away with robbing a convenience store. They have cameras. Hell, you have to
assume that there are cameras everywhere these days. Some put up by cops, some
by business and homeowners, and then there were the digital legions who could
shoot the vid and have it posted on facebook in ten minutes. All the great
crimes are over. It’s all inside jobs now. Big business, big lobbying, Wall
Street rigging. Shit you go into Congress a mere millionaire and if you don’t
come out a billionaire you’re either a putz or one of the few men left
for Diogenes to find. I’ll bet Diogenes’ lantern is getting pretty dim.
He spent a lot of time dreaming about coming up on single
vehicle Brinks armored car rollovers with no one alive to save and money,
money, money lying around for the taking. An overturned marijuana or cocaine
shipment might work.
James needed some rest.
James was nursing a beer one night in a pretty dicey joint
when some asshole started beating up on the stripper. Some in the audience
cheered at first thinking it was a new twist in the act. Then the place started
to clear out fast. No one was helping the stripper except other strippers.
Billy picked up a full bottle of liquor from the bar and walloped the jerk
above the ear.
The chicken-shit manager was out in the street calling 911
on his cell. Only 5 strippers witnessed the end. The asshole was clearly dead.
Machine Gun Kelly was the oldest, wisest stripper from the bunch. She was way
old style, her main skill being the twirling of her nipple tassles in opposite
directions, but she only did it as she was “firing” her “tommy gun” wearing the
sexiest imaginable pin stripped suit cut down to - not much. She was also the
financial advisor to any girl who would listen. “Listen, kid, most of you girls
live high, blow your money on drugs and lousy boyfriends and you leave the life
with nothing but damaged minds, fake tits, and wrinkles. If you ever want to
know how to make some money and keep it, talk to me.”
Machine Gun Kelly had over two hundred thousand dollars in
the bank. When she left the club every day she looked like she was headed for
mass – and she was. She lived in the same cheap apartment for years; she NEVER
gave out the address, but she would accompany a date to a motel when her
instincts told her it was safe. “Date money” had always gone into savings. She
lived on her tiny wages and decent tips. She gave a lap dance that left men
panting and searching for the nearest bathroom. That money she invested in a
string of tattoo parlors.
Needless to say, Kelly took charge. “First of all, this
man saved Shelia and we’re getting him out of here. Nobody got a good look. It
all happened too quick. He was just another average size man in blue jeans with
a cap pulled low over his head. Now, you, mister go out the back. My friend
Lola just pulled up for her shift, but is not coming in and is going to leave
because of the confusion. I’ve already called her. I’ve got you covered.She’ll
take you wherever you say. And you lay low. Then, we’re out of it, see? You
were never here and we never saw you before. Thanks, but don’t come back here
ever. Got it? Now get.”
Lola was a bit surprised at how little James picked up
from his apartment – just a backpack and a dog. “Head down I-40 West. There’s a
place you’ll set me out and then drive on. I’ll be all right from there.” Lola
couldn’t imagine how he was going to be all right. From the side of the road in
all directions there were no houses – nothing but cactus and lava. That’s where
James got out. She drove off and when she was out of sight, Ely and Jim
sauntered off the highway, down into a gulley, and then over to the cave. “This
is it, girl. We’ve got maybe a year in here and then I just don’t know.”
In they went, Ely went straight to the pond and caught a
12 inch catfish in her jaws. “Well, thought James, maybe we’ll last longer than
a year. Good dog.”
James started nocturnal excursions to bring back dirt. He
planted mostly greens in likely places near the light. He planted pot in 5
gallon buckets and hauled them from bright light to bright light as the day
progressed. He played guitar. He had a decent library. And God bless playful
dogs. For some of us they provide the most human companionship of our lives.
Still, feeling lonely led him to take a chance. He tied
Ely up by the pool one day, leaving food and after a loving talk,
hitchhiked to Albuquerque where he hoped to find some weed to tide him
over until his crop was ready. Lola recognized him on the street. “Hey, you
still alive?” “Yeah”, he answered. “Thanks for what you did for me. How’s
Kelly?” “She’s pretty scared. She thinks the IRS is on to her money. She’s
thinking of taking it to Mexico and hoping to live quietly.” “Tell her I’ve got
a better idea. She can live cheaper than Mexico. Tell her I’ll meet her
tomorrow for lunch at that restaurant right there if she wants to hear my plan.
I owe her.”
...
Well Kelly could hardly believe it. “A cave? With a
catfish pond? You’re growing pot there? Really, how can I not believe this?
It’s too good for a crazy person to make up. And listen, I’m a day or so away
from losing it all. I just feel it. So, if you’re offering me a chance, I’ll
take it.’
“Just bring a few things. A nice outfit that will stay in
a suitcase for when it’s needed. Some rugged clothes. Good shoes. Your money
all wrapped up so it can’t get ruined by moisture. Lola can drive us at night
to where we just walk off into the wilds.”
“Jesus. Okay. Let’s do this.’
Wan is on his way back from climbing at Yosemite. He is a
40 year old Chinese native. His company sent him to America to climb famous
sites using the gear manufactured by his company, China Rocks. He hadn’t wanted
to come, but he was the most qualified to represent his company both as a
climber and with public relations. Wan had appeared on television in
California, Alaska, and Colorado extolling the quality of China Rocks climbing
ropes, carabineers, and other gear. Of course, in addition to demonstrating the
quality of ropes he praised the close working relationships of his government
with the United States. It was all an act. I mean the China Rocks equipment was
as good as anyone’s, but the act was all about praising U.S. /China relations.
Wan couldn’t love either country.You see, Wan’s brother had taken him to
Tienamin square in 1989. He pointed to Lady Liberty and said, “America will see
that we, too, want freedom. That we, too, are created equal and that we need
help to gain our inalienable rights. Nixon came to China to open Mao’s
Communist regime to the world and that is impossible unless we have democracy,
just like in the United States.” Wan had seen the lone man standing in front of
a huge tank. He had believed – right up until the night the troops cleared the
square. Right up until his brother never came home.
Wan believed his brother was dead right up until he
learned about Guantanemo. Then it hit him – his brother was just as likely to
be alive in some rendition-style prison, in some Chinese Guantanemo, a gulag
where men are forever tortured and locked away because their government deems
them to be irredeemable. He had always believed his country did such things;
and now he knew that even the God Almighty United States of America did them,
too.
Sure, it hit him like a ton of bricks at first, but then
he thought that, logically, his brother was dead. Why would he be kept alive?
It was comforting in a sick kind of way to think that his brother might have
been killed instantly or, at least did not suffer too long. The other ton of
bricks – that the United States did not give a fuck for the words they used:
“equality,” “freedom,” “inalienable rights” – you don’t get more blatant than
the betrayal of Tienamin Square. The whole world knows that behind the
freedom-loving lies put forth by the American government is a system of
kidnapping, murder, and torture worthy of any Communist or other totalitarian
state. With every passing day the United States and China were becoming more
alike. It’s no accident that China and the U.S. lock up a higher percentage of
their citizens than other countries.
As Wan drove down a segment of old Route 66 he was
thinking about the crazy irony that every poor country on earth knew how to
keep the United States from getting what it wants. Oh, it’s brutal. It can’t be
done unless your government is either on your side or else uninvolved. But Viet
Nam, Afghanistan, and Iraq have proven it. The United States cannot win a war.
They can kill and ruin everything, but they can’t win unless you surrender. They
will stay until the corporations have made enough money from selling weapons of
war and then they will leave. The hue and cry will arise from the U.S. to stay
and “Kill them all.” But, you see, some peoples have been down for so long that
they don’t give a fuck. “Kill me. Go ahead. You killed my children, my parents,
my wife. I will fight you until I die. I expect to die. But I will not
surrender.” And therein lies the secret. The poor expect to die, and the
Americans still think they can win.
Wan read the email again. He was to return home to China
in one month. He thought he had as much as another year in front of him before
this email. A phone call verified the order, but he still didn’t know why. He
was in despair.
I’m not going back, he thought. I don’t know how I can get
away with it, but I’m going to try. Wan was so upset he decided to pull off
Interstate 40 and think. He took the next exit and pulled over to the side of a
county road. There was some pavement, a remnant of another road, off to the
right. It was blocked by a boulder, but not completely blocked. He walked
towards that road and saw the faded sign. “Route 66.” Wow, neat. I’m
going to take a stroll down the Mother Road, he decided.
Wan found some peace of mind as his legs stretched out and
his breathing picked up. No solutions, but a little peace. I might as well
think about how to stay here in America, he decided. There’s no point in trying
some country I’ve never been to. I’m legal here for now. I’ve heard of people
getting fake IDs. It’s not impossible. But how the hell can I find the right
people, the right contact to buy the papers I’ll need? God, but I’m tired.
Wan walked off the pavement a ways and laid down. He
almost drifted off to sleep when he smelled food. He was on his right side.
When he turned onto his left side the smell went away. Just for the hell of it
he turned back to his right – and there it was again! Like bacon, he thought.
There was no one around so Wan started wiggling on his stomach to explore the
smell. Just a little in most directions and he smelled only the
sagebrush. But, there was one direction where the smell was stronger. He got on
his knees and crawled until he actually felt a little breeze on his face and
the smell was strongest. A breeze from the ground? What the hell? It was just
too dark to see the hole from which the cave was exhaling, but Wan knew a thing
or two about geography and he wasn’t a superstitious type. As he lay there he
pretty much figured it out. There’s a cave down there! And, by god, someone is
down there cooking bacon! That’s wild! I’m going to come back tomorrow and look
around some more.
Now distracted from his immediate problems, Wan walked
back to his car and drove on to the next town, one of those sweet little spots
that once flourished before I-40 bypassed them. But these great towns are dust
jewels in the American West. The old motels with their great neon signs still
hung on, many of them purchased and run by families from India. Often, too,
there was an old diner or hamburger joint from the 1940s or 50s. Wan settled in
at the End of the Trail Motel with a giant cheeseburger and a real vanilla
malt. Afterwards, he lay on the bed and looked out the open window at the
exhausted Indian and his exhausted horse, both of them hanging forward, about
to drop to the ground, but no, just down a little ways were the teepees -
hope at the end of the trail.
Iconic, wan yawned and fell asleep.
Next morning, Wan walked to the classic old diner with the
fat man serving burgers painted all over the building, copying the diner’s neon
sign. The motif continued on the cover of the menu.
Iconic, thought Wan and ordered chile rellenos (with red)
with hash browns, and one egg over easy. With the first bite he thought, if I
hadn’t eaten a chile relleno dinner at Jerry’s in Gallup I would think this was
fantastic, but it’s just ok.
Back up the road, Wan exited, parked at the boulder, and
walked down the old, abandoned stretch of Route 66. Down below James and Kelly
were firing up.
“This is really good. We need to conserve it.” James
managed to convey this sentence without exhaling from his lungs, but Kelly
understood.
“Have you ever played a didgeridoo?”
“No. Think I’d be good?”
“You’re a natural,” Kelly replied.
“Like you and your tassels.”
“Hey, be nice.”
“What?”
“Anyways…. Yeah, I know what you mean – about the weed.
It’s too good to smoke like we’ve been doing. Two or three hits do it.”
“Oh yeah. One more each then.” James picked up a Colorado
bud bigger than his thumb.
“Oh, James, don’t put that whole bud in the pipe or we
will smoke it up,” Kelly chastised.
“When the going gets tough, the tough get going, my Dear.”
“You just said we were going to take it easy.”
“Did I? Crazy.”
“Yeah you’re crazy, all right. Our crop is three months
away from harvest. We’re going to have to go to Colorado again. Actually, I’d
like to get out for a while.”
“The idea is to survive and thrive down here.”
“I know. But, I need some books. Some big long novels.”
“And we’re going to need some more bud,” James conceded.
“We didn’t exactly plan how to get around, though. I thought we were set for a
year at least.”
“Well, if I dress right we could go into town and I could
tell Lola what we’re doing. She can keep a secret.”
“She knows something’s up because she dropped me off at
the side of the road.”
“Yeah. Let’s arrange a rendezvous like every three months
or so. We can pay Lola. Then we can stock up on stuff. Lola can drive us
places.”
“Yeah,” James hissed out after a big hit. “Stock up on
“stuff.” But not during the winter. We can’t go out of here during snow season
or during the monsoon. Tracks.”
“Okay. Don’t bogart that pipe.”
Up top Wan was crawling around near the spot where he’s
smelled the bacon last night. He smelled nothing, but he did hear a muffled
bark.
Ely had smelled Wan.
What the hell, Wan thought and burst out laughing.
Someone’s living with a dog down there. He moved over a few yards and smelled
the pot. Wan, of course, had smelled pot around climbers in the States. He’d
never tried it though. But he was very interested in this mystery, however, and
intended to dig deeper, so to speak.
The strip club clientele looked almost the same as the
last time James was there except for the Chinese guy. But there was only one
dancer left from Kelly’s days. “Where’s the old crowd?” James asked.
“There’s just me and Sherrie left. High turnover.”
“Gosh, I guess. Where’s Lola?”
“Oh dear, you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Her wreck.”
“No. Where is she?”
“Albuquerque; rehab.”
“What happened?”
“She drove off the bridge. On purpose.”
“No. No.”
“Here’s the weird part. She didn’t get burned. No
explosion.” “So
she drove off that bridge … and hit dirt I imagine?”
“Yeah, no water in the wash as usual. And now she’s
in rehab.”
“I want to see her.”
“I have a paper in back. I copied directions and stuff to
where she is, but James, she’ll never walk again and she’s depressed. I mean,
that’s why she drove over the bridge in the first place. She’d had it. And now
she just can’t believe she fucked up suicide. She’s on some heavy drugs. For
pain and for her head, you know.”
“I guess so. She’s still in pain then.”
“I think not so much because she’s got that doc wrapped
around her little finger and she’s faked him out. The thing is really…”
“What?”
“I don’t think she feels anything. Anywhere.”
“What the hell. Can she move at all?”
“From the waist up. She’s in a harness-like thing. She can
lift herself up working this remote control and swing herself into a wheelchair
to get to the bathroom. Then she lifts herself onto the seat, you know. The
hoist-thing could lift her there, too, but she’s so strong. Her arms and stuff.
I think soon they’ll take her off the pain pills and see how she gets around on
her own. But, you know, if she falls she’s stuck. She has to have something
strong enough to take her weight. She tried to use the bed once, but it just
rolled around. She crawled over to the dresser and pulled it down on her head.
Man, they were pissed.”
“Well, what’s she supposed to do?”
“Push a button. Call for help. But she doesn’t want help.
I’m not sure but what she’s just going to OD or something when she gets out.
She can’t stand help and she’ll never be able to live again without it. You
know how it is: she’ll probably have to live in a nursing home, some run-down
shit-hole since she has no real insurance.”
“I’ve got to see her. Damn, I wish I had a car.”
“I’ve got one.”
Wan had strolled nearby with his drink. He stepped up.
“I’m sorry. I have good hearing. I didn’t even try to hear, but I did. I’m
sorry. But really, I’ll drive you to Albuquerque. I’m Wan.” And Wan held out
his hand to James.
James squinted in the sunshine as they walked to the
car.
In Wan’s car, James said, “Pull over to the gas station and
I’ll buy gas.”
“It’s full.”
“Well, I need a pair of sunglasses and they’ll have those
I think. When we get back I’ll top off your tank.”
Wan told James his life story. It took up the whole time
of the drive to Albuquerque which was good because James did not know what to
talk about. He didn’t know any news; hell he couldn’t even talk about what the
weather had been like.
“So you’re, like, almost AOL? China will come looking for
you?”
“To some extent. I don’t know how hard, but I’ve got to
disappear. Like maybe get fake IDs and live in, say, San Francisco.”
“And work as what? Sales at REI?”
“No. That’s too close to the real me. I’d have to do
something else. I have no idea. I do have some money. I’ve hardly spent a dime.
I’ve lived totally within my company budget. I could buy into something.” Wan
looked at James and James got a queasy feeling.
James said, “You could try to buy into some hard-scrabble
ranch and hardly ever go to town.”
“Yeah, those guys would love to have a Chinese cowboy.”
“So you can tie ropes? All that fancy stuff I guess. Have
you ever slept on the side of a cliff?”
“Oh yeah. I could take one rope and make a sling in it and
go rapelling down the Empire State Building if the rope was long enough.”
“Anything more practical?”
“Yeah, I could design a series of ropes, ladders, and
slings for Lola. I could turn her life into an exciting ropes course. I could
make a zip line from her bed to the coffee pot if I had the room.
“Hmmm,” James was thinking.
Lola was pretty much the mess James had expected her to
be.
“I can’t believe I’m alive,” she said. “I don’t want to
die anymore, but I can’t live like this. I’m going to do heroin, I think. I’ll
just blitz out until I OD.”
“No, you’re not,” James said.
“Oh, Mr. Take-Charge, huh? No one can stop me. I’ll do
just that if I damn well want to.”
“Oh, Lola.”
“Look, you saved Shelia from that asshole…oh shit.” Lola
realized she’d said too much.
“Lola, I’ll chalk that up to the pain pills. This guy over
there I came in with? His name is Wan.” James waved Wan over. “Wan is over here
from China. He gave me a ride.”
Lola managed to chat with Wan. ‘Lot’s of skill talking
with men,’ thought James. ‘She perked up a lot.’ James looked around at the
depressing room and all the broken people.
“Lola, can we see your room and the hoist thing?” James
asked.
“You know about that? Well, that’s embarrassing. But why?”
“Come on, humor me.”
“What do you think of that Wan?” James asked as they
entered the room?
“Oh, it’s good for what it does, but you see how limited
the range of motion is? I guess that’s due to the fact that it’s designed to do
just one thing – get someone out of bed – and it’s made so that a person can
work the controls herself so it’s very, very slow, I’ll bet.”
“It is that,” said Lola. If they’d get me a rope I could
pull myself up in a heartbeat.”
“Why won’t they get you a rope and tie it up there?” Wan
wondered.
“Maybe afraid I’d hang myself.”
Wan replied, “You could do that with the control wires.”
“Oh, thanks man,” said James.
Lola defended Wan, “You think I don’t know that? Anyway, I
said I want to live and I mean it. I mean, I don’t think life will be worth
living, but for some reason, now that I have it back, I think I’ll keep it for
a while.”
On the ride back, James took a chance. “Wan?”
“Yes?”
“I live in a cave.”
“I know.”
“What? I’m not philosophizing here. I mean I found a cave
near here and I live in it and nobody knows.”
“I know.”
“What the fuck, you can’t know.”
“You wouldn’t believe it, I mean how, but I know.”
“Right. I’ve seen the medicine-man-who-sees-the-future
thing, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Well?”
“I took an exit off I-40. I got on old Route 66 until it
ended in a mess of upturned pavement.”
“Oh my God,” James blurted out. “Then what?”
“I smelled bacon coming up from underneath a bush.”
“Oh my God.”
Wan paused. “Then I came back and I heard a dog bark and I
smelled pot.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. We both know each other’s secret don’t
we? If I tell, you tell and we’re both in jail.”
“I guess you have that right.”
“Can I see it?”
“Well hell …”
James crawled in first to tell Kelly what was up with Wan.
Kelly was pretty upset, but Wan, hearing an argument over himself, decided to
go on in.
“Well, here he is James. It’s a done deal now.”
“My name is Wan. I’m here to help Lola.”
“How?” asked Kelly.
“ I have built ropes courses and done a lot of climbing. I
can make this place something she can move around in just by pulling on ropes
and using gravity.”
“Oh, you can, huh?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Don’t you ma’am me. I’m only old enough to be … your big
sister.”
“Yes ma’am,” Wan responded.
So James took Wan around. He was mightily impressed with
the catfish pond and the well. Wan also liked the twilight. “I can’t see the
ceiling well enough, but even in a worst case scenario I could drive enough
metal into the rock to hold my ropes.”
“See that light over there?” James asked. “That’s where we
cook, near that window.”
“Window?”
“Yeah, I call the spots where light filters in
windows.”
“Well, now you know that is a weak spot.”
“Yes, answered James. And you’ll need to show me exactly
where you were up top when you smelled the bacon and the pot.”
“Yes, and heard your dog. Hey where is she?”
“She’s hiding from you, but she’s watching. She’ll have to
get to know you.”
“Ok. So I’ll show you where I was. Then what?”
“Then I’ll pick a window far away from that one.”
“And you’ll cook there?”
“Yeah. What else can we do?”
“We need to find a lower level that has air and light.”
“Hey, there’s a pit over here. We just avoid that corner.”
“I can rapel down there and look around.”
Kelly and James gave each other a knowing look after Wan
had worked for a few minutes. They could see he was an expert ropes man and
fast – Jeeze in no time Wan was hollering up, “Wow, you’ll have to see this to
believe it. I want to get a lantern down here to get the whole picture, but so
far, so good.”
“What do you see?” asked James.
“I’m in a big room. There’s a level floor. Some big
stalagmites. It looks like there are rooms off of it. Whoa.”
“What?”
“A breeze. A breeze going into this room here.”
“Into?”
“Yeah.”
The group would never know the true story of this room,
but they guessed the basics. There was another exit somewhere up top and it
drew air from the cave up to it like a chimney flue. That exit, unbeknownst to
them, was up in the sunken crater of one of the calderas in the area. There
were a series of these old remnants of volcanic cones and the vent from “Wan’s
room” as it came to be known traveled about a mile uphill until it exited in a
mass of rock and brush at the top of a sunken crater. “Wan’s room” was never
easily accessible except by rope, but for Wan, and Lola later, it was a simple
rappel over the edge and down. Wan and Lola would become the cooks and their
kitchen was just outside the entrance to the mile-long flue.
So the couple became a quartet. James and Kelly played the
low end while Wan and Lola capered about the heights. It was nothing to be
reading a book when suddenly an upside down head lowered slowly downward into
your field of view. Lola’s style was necessarily an arm thing and so more
apelike, which is to say, pretty damn agile. She could work her lower back
above the hips and bring her legs and feet up when coming to a wall – a braking
technique and, at best, she’d get some rebound, but Lola could not push off.
She could, however, lower herself elegantly down beside
Kelly ending in a sweet Lotus position -
back straight, chin up, gravity for a bra.
“Ola, Lola.”
“Ola Kelly. Como
esta?”
“Muey Bien, usted?”
“Vivo, mi amigo . Vamos a quemar uno .”
“Not here dearie. Wan can rig me up and we’ll go below to
the Keep.”“The Keep?”
“Like in Lord of the Rings.”“Too
apocalyptic.”“I know,” Kelly said, “But that breeze Wan found? I think it goes
a long way and I don’t think anybody can smell it once it gets up there.”
“We’re safe Kelly, and we’re most safe smoking pot down in
the Keep.”
James is lying on his back gazing through a perfectly
clear shaft of light above. Occasionally Wan flies by. Don’t get the wrong
idea. Wan and Lola are more like an aerial ballet than a rapelling team, but
there is a zip line or two in order not to always be hauling oneself up. Wan plays
at poses – Superman, angels, once, and once only, a Screech Owl.
‘No, it’s a peaceable kingdom down here’, thinks James.
He’s thinking of dinner, a typical one. Catfish from the pond dipped in an egg
batter and fried whole. A carrot salad.
“And tatters,” says James aloud.
“Po-ta-toes,” Kelly responds without a pause.
“And bisquits.”
“Yum. Wan,” Kelly yells, “The fish are gutted.”
Wan: “I can take a hint.”
Ely perks up.
