By Absinthe Disclaimer: The characters of Melinda Pappas, Janice Covington, Xena, Sheriff Lucas Buck, Gail Emory, Caleb, and "Dr. Matt" belong to Universal and Renaisance and all those great people. My apologies for borrowing them. The rest of this goop, however, belongs to me, Absinthe. This is an Alternative story, meaning we've got some lesbian romo going on, if this bothers you, TURN BACK NOW. Thanks. Soundtrack: Sheriff Buck's theme song is undoubtedly "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones, "Precious Things" by Tori Amos belongs to Maia, and "Tiger" by Paula Cole goes to Gillian. Chapter 15: Oh Gods, what was I thinking? I'm going to get her killed. Maia thought frantically as she let Sarah tape on a clean bandage. "You're thinking about changing your mind aren't you?" The blonde teasingly tugged at one of the long strands of Maia's wild ebony hair. "Now why would I go and do a thing like that?" The dark woman retorted, her jocularity revealing not a hint of the doubt she felt. She started to button the shirt up clumsily with her left hand. "Let me get that." Sarah circled around and pushed Maia's larger hand away trustingly. She was like a child playing with a lioness that did not know that those soft paws were capable of tearing her in two with hardly an effort. Sarah found her eyes wandering above the black buttons she was absently fastening. Maia watched bemusedly, as green eyes fastened on nipples the color of wet sandalwood. Sarah swallowed hard, hoping that the trembling of her fingers was not visible. When the shirt was at last closed to the second button, they prepared the apartment for their leaving. Garbage was bagged, laundry done and clothes packed. Maia scraped the dried blood up off the floor with her torn, scorched clothes, failing more or less completely to avoid getting Ajax in the blisters and cuts and pocked her one useful hand. Swearing lividly, she nevertheless, finished the awkward job and disposed of the ragged clothing. When the two had readied everything, it was only 7 pm. They planned to leave after 10 to avoid Sarah's second-shift working neighbors. Sprawled on the sofa, Sarah peered up at her friend. The blonde grasped Maia's left hand and examined its wrist again. "Are you going to tell me about these?" She asked. The darkness that always lurked just beneath the seas of Maia's eyes edged nearer to the surface. Instead of pulling her hand away again, she settled cross legged on the floor. "It's not something I want to talk about. But it wasn't from an arrest if that's what you're wondering. Not saying I've never been arrested, but that was...five years ago I think." "Well then, are you going to tell me what it is you're hiding from?" "I guess, of all people, you're the one that should know. The less you know, the better off you'll be though. Just remember, you can change your mind about coming with me after you hear this." Maia tilted her head to rest on the cushion by Sarah's elbow. "I don't think that's likely." The blonde twirled a lock of Maia's curly hair. Maia quirked an eyebrow. "A little over six years ago, really nearly seven, I..I did a lot of things that...got me into a lot of shit." She paused, ad , what remained unsaid lay heavily in the air. Maia wasn't yet willing to divulge the details of those two years. She had become addicted to morphine. They'd given it to her in the hospitals for her leg, but when she left, the wound as yet unhealed, the powerful drug was all that kept her on her feet. She had nearly destroyed the joint in that leg by using it while under the narcotic's effect. She'd even gotten a tattoo to hide the scars, but the gradual deforming of the bone was unignorable. Maia remembered the intensive sessions she'd spent working with the men. The men that she taught how to fight and kill with and without weapons. They were all highly effective at reconnaissance, assassination, and hand to hand by the time Steve started to develop cold feet two years later, and handed the operation over to the US government. "OK. That's not very informative." Sarah snorted. "I'm sorry, but what happened then isn't important now. A man that I trusted, betrayed me." Even after all those years when he worked with me in picking out jobs to take. He always had a knack for picking out the right clients, the ones that would come through with the money in the end, and not decide to turn themselves and I in for murder after the hit was done. "He handed everything over the Government. He was granted clemency, and before I was caught, I sent one of my men after him, just to find him, to find out why he'd turned us all in , handed over the whole damned operation, but my instructions were mistaken, and Steve was killed." Sarah was now paying rapt attention, despite the gaping holes in the story. "I was convicted of murder, possession of illegal weapons, treason, selling and using illegal drugs, among other more numerous crimes, and sentenced to death by lethal injection. We went through the rehearsals, the last meal...And finally the day came when I went into that room for the last time. There was no one there to watch me die except for the staff and a few reporters. When I woke up-" "You're telling me you survived a lethal injection? That's impossible." "That's just it, it wasn't lethal, it was never meant to be. I was diverted...to serve my time in a different way."Gods I remember that month, after they stopped giving me the painkillers I couldn't walk on my leg anymore. I couldn't wait for the day to come when my life would end. And I used to cling to the knowledge that Steve was dead, that I'd had my vengeance., " They told me that we were protecting the people from terrorism. And I guess we were, but none of us ever really knew what was going on. When we first got out of training, they told us what we thought was the truth, but later I was promoted I guess, to head missions and train agents. Then they told me that everything I'd been told before was possibly not true, and that it was now my responsibility to make my agents believe, to cater to their emotional needs and keep them under control. I was good at it." Maia ran her fingers through her hair roughly. How many did I kill to save my own life? "Not that I'm proud of it. That's why I had to leave. I couldn't keep lying to them. I held their lives in my hands. If I was given the order, I had to be ready to terminate the men and women that I had trained myself instantly. Or I would be terminated."I owe them though. Section gave me new bones, taught me how to walk again, and took away the physical marks of my life before. Even that tattoo is gone now. "So the people who made you do that are the ones that are after you?" "I hope not. They should think I'm dead. I left all my equipment and a tooth. Hopefully that will be enough. I just have to make sure that I'm not seen." "A tooth?" "Yeah. Not much of a human body would have survived an explosion of the intensity that blowing all that propane caused. That's why I didn't get out fast enough to avoid getting burnt....It took me longer to get the thing out than I thought it would." "You pulled one of your own teeth out!!??" Sarah sat up in shock, still disbelieving, but edging closer to comprehension of the truth. Maia nodded and opened her mouth for the younger woman to confirm that one of her molars had been recently wrenched out. "This can't all be true. Why don't you tell someone about these people? There must be someone who can stop it!" "Sarah, don't you see? They must be working for the government, or else they would never be able to get hold of so many convicted criminals right out of prison. They get results I imagine, though their methods are..." "Horrifying." "Yes. They're sanctioned, or else they have some kind of power over the government somehow. I done' know. They kept us in the dark, all us disposable people." Maia turned her gaze back to her friend. "So do you still want to come with me?" "Of course I do. You didn't have a choice about what you were doing!" Sarah clung to that idea. "Don't you dare try to victimize me in this. There is ALWAYS a Choice." The bronze woman grabbed Sarah by the shoulder and shook her once. "You're not seeing the truth here. I'm a murderer Sarah. Coming with me could be the biggest mistake you ever make." "MAIA! Stop it. I have to come. I love you. I told you, you said I don't know you, but I do. I know who you are NOW, and that's all that matters. You've changed." "How can you be so damned sure?" Maia snarled. "I know!" Sarah tried to wrap her arms around the resisting woman, "You saved me back there in that alley, and you trusted me enough to come here when you were hurt. in a half an hour, we're going to leave this city, and we're not coming back. OK?" Maia gave in to the comfort of Sarah's warm embrace. There were no tears. Chapter 16: Just after midnight, the laden station wagon pulled up outside of a row of battered aluminum storage buildings. They were relatively isolated in the generally ignored countryside of NY state. "It never ceases to amaze me how different two places so close together can be." Sarah said, stretching and looking around at the frozen trees. "Mhmm." Maia noncommittally replied, striding confidently down the row of sliding doors, ticking off the numbers above them. She stopped at number 15 and twiddled with the combination lock on the door. She drummed her short nails on her lips. "What's the matter?" Sarah asked from behind. "Can't remember the combination?" "Its been five years." Maia defensively returned. "Whooee, you really paid ahead on your rental. Was it the one that came with the lock?" "No. Had it changed thank you." "Was it your birthday?" "No." "Was it your mother's birthday?" "Will you be quiet and let me think??" Maia commanded playfully. "Sorry." Sarah took to drawing in the dirt with her toes. She looked up at the sound of the door rattling in its rusty tracks. A click from inside heralded the flickering activation of a plain light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Sarah wandered into the dusty room. The cement floor held the temperature, and made the interior seem even colder than outside. Looking around, Sarah was first struck by the emptiness of the storage room. "Um. Excuse me for asking a stupid question, but isn't the idea of renting a big room like this to have stuff in it?" She held out her hands and pursed her lips, striking a mock-baffled pose. Maia walked to the back wall, scooped a duffel bag up off of a hook hanging from one of the raw 2 x 4s the composed the cheaply built structure, and bent down to rifle through a box on the floor. "There is stuff here. I'm sorry, but there's very little to be found in the way of storage space between two by two rental lockers, and these things." Maia tossed back over her aching shoulder. Over the counter painkillers my ass. she thought, They're not killing anything. Giving up, Maia hefted the box up onto her hip, wishing for the umpteenth time that night that she had the use of her right arm. Sarah frowned and wrapped her fingers around the bag's strap. "You'll hurt yourself worse." She chided, sliding the nylon strap off of Maia's arm. It was unexpectedly heavy, however, and she fell forward, dropping it solidly onto the concrete. Maia rolled her eyes. "It's my RIGHT shoulder." She sighed and handed Sarah the box, which was lighter, and hefted the duffel back up. "I'm not gonna ask what's in there." Sarah retorted, exasperated, and returned to the car. Maia put out the light and stood in the dark for a moment, the whole detour was making her uneasy. They say that history repeats itself. Maia cast a fervent prayer to whoever might be listening that it didn't replay to the letter. She tucked the lock into her pocket, its frozen weight pulled her ill fitting down on one side. Ignoring it, Maia left the door open to alert the place's owner to the new vacancy, and got back into the car. She felt more than a little guilty at making Sarah drive for so long, so late at night, but it had been the woman's own decision to come, and the Volvo was a standard transmission. Maia silently cursed her own helplessness as she watched the trees lining the road gradually block out the lamplight from the parking lot of the storage buildings. Trying to take her mind off of it, she rummaged through the bag now resting on the floorboard between her feet. Its contents smelled of leather and marijuana. She'd forgotten about that, though now the drug seemed tame and childish. Punching the button for the power window, she opened the little ziplock baggie and tossed the aged stuff out of the car. Sarah glanced over quizzically several times during the procedure, but didn't say anything for once. "What we're doing is wrong." Sean snapped. "Is it?" Maia asked deliberately. The stood facing each other outside of a small coffee bar on 22nd street. She started walking away from the shop, pulling him with her. "How can you be so sure about everything? What gives them the right to set themselves up as judges and us as executioners? For all we know we're killing innocent people." "Read the papers." "You know as well as I do that they can be manipulated." "Well, then I can only assure that we aren't." Maia shrugged. "Sometimes we lose a few, but is anyone truly innocent?" "Maia, you're not really listening to me." The walked past a man playing a harmonica. Maia tossed him a dollar. "I'm listening to you all right. Do you think any of us haven't had these same doubts? Maybe there are no innocents or guilty, good or bad, only lesser degrees of evil." Maia gave him an intense look. It was important that they think you were sincere, and that you were sharing a piece of yourself that no one else had seen. She wasn't sure the was on the right tack though. Steve was her first agent to be so emotionally committed to his doubts. She was, however, known in Section for her ability to deal with her people and keep them under control. She had never had one freeze up on her. "We're murderers!" Sean nearly shouted. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't already a murderer Sean. That's why we're all here. And so are they. Or we wouldn't be going after them. We prevent further deaths. You can't second guess everything all the time. Just believe that we're working for the greater good." "People can change. Yes I did kill someone before Section, and I've regretted from the moment it happened. I'm not sure I can keep doing this." "Well, now you have no choice. Just try to stay alive Sean. Don't do anything stupid. Please." Maia turned on her best pleading face. He swallowed hard. "How can you be so blind?" He was whispering then, "It's not just about us. How are we worth more than the terrorists we kill? Isn't terrorist just the word the big army calls the little one?" "They're dangerous people. We're here to make sure they're shut down. If we have to do it by killing them, then so be it." Sean was unconvinced. Maia was perplexed. She had never been bothered by what they did. She'd made a living from death and destruction before Section, and continued to stay alive by using those same skills. Sean's arguments did not impact her at the time, but they waited, crouching in her brain to take root later. When Sean gave out on a mission and failed to do his part, Maia was forced to take the matter to Amanda. "I'm surprised Maia." The blonde had said, "Your track record so far has been flawless. You're usually so good with your agents." Maia merely shrugged, "He was listening to conscience, not to me. I don't think he's salvageable. He's been fighting me from the beginning really." "All right. I want him pulled. Tell him he's relieved until he can pull himself together." Amanda turned away, signaling the end of the interview. Maia turned on her boot heel and stalked out of the office. Sean had just signed his own death certificate. He would be allowed to live until Operations could set up a suicide mission. They liked to make other people to the dirty work of corpse disposal whenever possible. The mission came a month later. Maia headed it, taking with her four agents all slated for termination. One was a middle aged woman, another wore an eye patch. Each of them were marked in some way either by time or injury that made them useless to Section. Maia remained in the van with Control. When the agents had planted the explosives, she ordered them to hold their positions. "Maia?" Sean's voice was tinny through the headset, "Isn't this shaving it a bit close?" Jimmy, seated next to her at Control, opened his mouth a few times. He wanted to protest, but the look in Maia's cold blue eyes warned him that a word may take him one step closer to his own demise. There were 20 seconds left on the clock, but Maia had orders to speed things up a little. She hit the remote detonator. The van vibrated with the first shockwave from the explosion. A screeching noise filled the air. Maia rolled out of the bed and onto the balls of her feet, ready to fight if she had to . Her first waking thought was They're here.. Outside, a garbage collection truck stopped backing up and the noise ceased. Maia ran to the flimsy door and fumbled with the lock. She nearly fell through it when the door opened outwards. She stumble outside, barefoot, wearing the shirt she'd been wearing the day before and little else. Sarah sat up in bed when the cold, January air hit her face. She sleepily pushed back the covers, not waking fully until her feet touched the frozen cement stoop of the cheap hotel. "Maia? Are you insane?" She shouted, her suspicions as to the woman's mental stability were abruptly reinforced. Maia laughed throatily. She jumped back up onto the stoop and grabbed Sarah around the waist, pulled her close and lifting her off her feet, spinning them both around a few times ecstatically. Sarah held on for dear life. "It's over." Maia laughed, finally setting Sarah back on her own feet. Dizzily, the blonde gazed up at those baby blues, which were for the moment anyway, joyous. in front of a shabby hotel with sagging floors and an internal miasma of mothballs, Sarah realized that what she'd thought of as life before was nothing compared to what lay ahead. Coming to herself, she tugged Maia back inside. Rubbing her icy toes against the dubious carpeting in an attempt to warm them back up, Maia said, "Why don't you go ahead and shower, I'll," she glanced at the clock, "go find us some lunch." "Are you trying to say something?" Sarah teased, but tossed Maia her pants anyway. The art dealer looked around them in disgust. "This place looks a lot worse in daylight." She complained. "Yeah, well, it was better than you passing out in the driver's seat." Maia snorted. After a rather makeshift meal, Maia shook out the wrinkled articles of clothing that she'd packed away five years previously in anticipation of being on the run. She'd known then that Steve was up to something, and that it might have been years before she'd be able to get to the stuff. There were a few shirts, some jeans, underwear, and emergency cash, and "supplies." Everything was carefully packaged in sealable plastic bags. The most fragrant of the "supplies," Maia had tossed out the car window already. Taking the bag into the bathroom with her, Maia flushed nearly two hundred dollars worth of heroin down the toilet. That done, she struggled into some of the slightly musty clothes and re-closed the heavy bag. "Wow." Sarah appreciatively announced. "I'm just lucky they still fit at all." Maia turned around once to show off the old jeans and the skin tight t-shirt. "I think I like you in leather better though." Chapter 17: Sarah was much perkier after a good rest. Maia watched her from the passenger seat, bemused and yet distrustful. Her companion was too talkative, there was something going on. "What's the matter?" She finally managed to insert into Sarah's running monologue. Sarah just gave her a puzzled look. "You talk a lot, but not usually this much." Maia replied. "Oh thanks." "I mean it. What's on your mind?" Sarah was silent for a few minutes. "I'm trying not to be pushy here, but... there's so much you haven't told me. And if we're going to be traveling together, I'd just like to know you...that's all I guess." She blurted. Maia bit back the comment, I didn't ask you to come. But she had spent too many years among devious, dangerous people to take any question at face value. "Things like that can get you into trouble." Maia retorted, turning to watch the trees whizz by. "What's that supposed to mean?" It was Maia's turn to pause. "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to people like you." The dark woman sighed softly, "I find it hard to trust...It's been a long time since...It's just that you're so different. I'm trying to get used to talking. I haven't been able to trust anyone in so long." Maia grappled with the rebellious words. "It's hard for me not to sit here and analyze your motives." "I already told you why I'm here." "Yes you have. This has been so drastic for you though." "You think I'm some kind of spy? A plant from those section people you're always talking about? You'd sooner think that I'm here to betray you than that I could possibly WANT to be with you?" Sarah demanded, "Well, frankly, I'm still not sure you're not crazy, and making this shit up, but I do know that even if you are," she stopped, her tongue stumbling over the three words that she'd uttered before in a moment of pain, "I'm not going to leave you." She substituted. She wouldn't throw herself at Maia's feet again. Maia laughed harshly. Of course she'll leave. If she ever finds out everything, and if you don't get her killed first, she'll leave. "Maybe I am crazy. That would be nice." She replied, "But no...that's too easy to say. And I don't think I can lie to you." "But you're still not going to tell me everything." They made it into North Carolina by dark. This time the picked out a more pleasant hotel. "Maybe we should stay here a while, to give you time to recuperate?" Sarah suggested. "Not yet." Maia shuddered inwardly. She didn't like being so close to Trinity. She could almost smell Buck from here. "I want to get down to Florida at least, before we stop." "What's there?" "I've never been there." Maia smiled sadly, there were no memories lurking there. "We could go shopping, you could really use some clothes..." the blonde asked hopefully. "I'd rather not." Maia groaned. "Ok, Ok." "Why don't YOU go? I've got some stuff to take care of..." "What?" "Just money stuff." "Well, I'm not going alone." "Fine, whatever you want." Maia made a few phone calls, ordering the transfer of funds from her oldest foreign account into a U.S. bank. She ordered checks, credit cards, and cash, to be picked up in the morning. "Maia? If you're trying to hide, won't a paper trail lead those Section people right to us?" Sarah skeptically pointed out. "There are some things that even they never found out." "How can you be sure?" "Because the assets are still there, and because of my...profession, none of the money was ever connected to Maia Pappas." "So what did you do before?" "You really know how to go for the throat." "So they say." Sarah grinned until she noticed the way she was being watched, "Oh come one, it can't have been that bad." Maia just tilted her head to one side. "What? Do you think it's going to scare me? Or do you think I'm going to run out and report everything you say to somebody?" "Can't you just be quiet?" "I pulled a piece of shrapnel out of your back. I can't say as that I would've done that for anybody else! Can't you just trust me?" "I trust you more than I have trusted anyone in a long time or else I would never have asked you to do that. My past is just something that you don't need to know a lot about. Can we just leave it at that for now?" They fell silent. Maia was relieved that the day's gauntlet of questions was over. "What if I say no?" "Then you'll wind up where you should have been yesterday." Amanda brandished a black and white photo, somewhat blurry, of Maia's mother holding a rose over an open grave. Amanda thrust the picture into Maia's hand. "Why should I believe a word you say?" The ebony haired woman retorted, sitting up all the way. Her bad leg was propped up in front of her in the bed, the swollen knee and lower thigh throbbing in time with her pulse. Amanda's hand shot to the damaged limb, her fingers digging in right above the scar from the initial wound. Maia's reflexes were still sluggish from the injection she'd received in the prison, and she only managed to wrap her own hand around Amanda's wrist. She felt the bones of the strange woman's forearm grind together, but Amanda gave no indication that she felt anything. "We can fix this you know. All you have to do is agree to work for us, and I'll get you right onto some analgesics. Nothing narcotic of course." Amanda relaxed her painful grip and straightened her shoulders. She gave one of her manic smiles, an expression that Maia would soon become well acquainted with. "Want to think about it? Why don't I come back later." Amanda was out of the room before Maia had a chance to protest. Shit. She thought feverishly. What the Hell is this? At least she wasn't restrained. The room was stark white, sterile and plain. Maia stared at her own reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the room. She recognized it instantly as two way, but she frowned disapprovingly at the circles under her eyes and her dull skin nevertheless. These last months had not sat well with her. The prison's infirmary nurses had been unsympathetic about her withdrawal symptoms when she'd had her supply of the various narcotics she needed to keep on her feet was abruptly cut off. At least they had given her high doses of acetaminophen. It was better than the nothing she had in her system right now, but pain was no stranger, so Maia struggled out of the bed. She limped heavily across the small room to try the door. She knew before she even bothered that it was locked, but her instincts demanded that she try it anyway. She leaned her back against the wall next to the door and pursed her lips. If only she had some idea of what was on the other side. Making her way then to the mirror, she pressed the flat of her palm to the cold glass. It vibrated ever so slightly. There were people on the other side, talking, sitting very close to the glass. Had there been any furniture other than the bed, which was cemented to the floor, she might have tried breaking through it. Bewildered, lost, and cold, Maia slumped back onto the thin mattress. Her only choice was to agree with that madwoman and see what happened. Despite the apparent instability of her new situation, it was, at least, better than it could have been. Her last memory was of the ends of those syringes going down, supposedly pumping deadly chemicals into her bloodstream. She remembered the hot sensation as the liquids burned their way through her veins, and the heavy numbness that had descended. She remembered thinking that she was dying. Just before she blacked out, she remembered feeling surprised that she wasn't angry for once in her life. The strange serenity that accompanies the certain knowledge of one's own impending death, however, was quickly fading. Her resolve was strengthened by her almost immediate hatred of Amanda. She decided that she would play along, but at the first chance, she would leave. If she had to , she'd kill every single person in the building to do it, but she'd get out of here. Wherever here was. That was before she found out what she was up against. Not only was Section more powerful than she had begun to imagine, but they catered to some of her own desires. It was a love hate relationship of the kind that are nearly impossible to escape as long as some of the ecstasy still exists. But before any of this became clear, Maia had known that she owed Section a debt. She awoke in a cold sweat. It was still only 3 am. Sarah was awake and kneeling on the floor, her elbows resting on the bed, reaching out as though she'd planned to wake her friend. "You were having a nightmare. Are you all right?" Sarah touched Maia's arm gently. "Yeah. Fine." She was still caught up in the dream. Not only had they saved her life, even if they planned to kill her later, but they gave her back her leg. The knee joint had to be replaced along with much of her femur, but with therapy, she was soon back up to a level of performance that she'd nearly forgotten that she was capable of. "You ah...you were...talking about somebody called Amanda." Sarah made the end of the sentence bounce upwards like a question. "Yeah? Was I?" Maia replied, shrugging it off, but the grey tinge to her skin belied her outward calm. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I'll be all right now. Get some rest." Maia smiled faintly. Sarah stared at her rumpled friend a moment longer before getting back into her own bed. Maia was amazed at how little time passed before the petite woman was asleep again. Dreading falling asleep again, Maia got dressed and went outside into the cold night. Sarah stretched languorously, enjoying the delicious warmth of the bedclothes surrounding her. She noted the empty bed, and sat up with a start. "Maia? Are you here?" She called, scrambling to her feet. A note of panic crept into her voice. "Maia?" She left me here. But then the door swung open, and Maia walked in , bringing a drought of chill air with her. "Yeah?" She asked nonchalantly. "Where were you?" "I went walking." Sarah looked her friend over critically and finally came to a conclusion, "You've been out since you woke up from that dream haven't you?" "I couldn't get back to sleep. Didn't want to disturb you." Maia shrugged, rubbing her hands together slowly. "Do you want to talk about it?" Sarah pressed on. "No." The blonde, for once, asked no more questions, but proceeded to tell the story of Melinda Pappas and Janice Covington. They were in northern Florida when the Volvo began to sputter. The oil pressure dropped, and the engine finally ground to a smoking halt. The two women spared each other shocked looks before Maia scrambled out of the car. Releasing the hood, she peered through the black clouds rolling off the engine. "Shit." She announced when the air cleared enough for her to see. "That bad?" "Yeah. Got a bugle? You should be playing Taps right now." "What? You're kidding me? These things are supposed to last forever." Sarah pushed her friend aside and looked, aghast, at the hunk of steel that had once been a fine piece of German engineering. Even Sarah could see that the car was good and dead. A sizeable crack ran down the front of the engine block, through which oozed blackened oil. They stuck a white rag in the window, grabbed what they could carry, and started walking. The highway was pretty empty, but every time a car passed they held out their thumbs hopefully. "I had you pegged as a cel phone owner." Maia teased. Sarah shrugged, "Yeah well, we can't all be perfect." The grass was damp, but the day was turning pleasantly warm. Sarah shed her winter sweater, enjoying the sun and the change from dreary slush. An hour later, a car rattled to a halt. The women again exchanged looks. It was a yellow VW bug, with a cauldron of unusual size strapped to the top along with a large plaid trunk and a dozen or so less identifiable objects. A huge battle axe hung out over the windshield. A man with a bedraggle moustache and a black leather jacket on rolled down the window. "Need a lift ladies?" He asked. "Where you headed?" "Anywhere with a towing service." Sarah answered with forced cheerfulness. Ordinarily, she would never have dared accept a ride from a stranger this...unusual, but Maia's dark presence made her feel safe enough to go for it. The man got out of the little car. His black jacket clashed loudly with his navy blue leather pants. "I'm Dr. Blockhead, this is my... associate the Conundrum." He waved his hand at the passenger, a half naked puzzle tattooed guy. "We're headed to Gibsonton, it's not too far now." "Sarah Covington, and we appreciate it." She slid into the cramped back seat. Maia just smiled, and folded herself up to squeeze in beside her friend. The car smelled faintly of fish. The Conundrum turned around and smiled, revealing his yellowed teeth and elongated canines. Sarah stared uneasily at the driver and his unusual passenger. The Bug sputtered and jolted forward, its eclectic burden rattling spasmodically. "So what's in Gibsonton?" She asked, trying to be polite. "I have friends there. We meet up every year to break from touring." "You're performers?" "Yeah. I do body manipulation. My friend here is a geek act." Dr. Blockhead had to shout to be heard in the back seat. "What's a geek act?" Sarah murmured to Maia, who smirked. "They do freak shows. Eat live fish, run around half naked, act like ‘wild people' etc etc...." "Oh." Car JammingDisclaimers: See the Prologue. Dr. Blockhead and the Conundrum are property of Fox and 10-13 productions. Driving back to Gibsonton, and you couldn't ask for a prettier day, I'm thinking. A day with actual genuine vitamin D carcinogenic sunlight is rare for winter, but when it shines it pours. I have the urge to pull over and catch a few rays, never mind the temperature, but we can't, not if we want to make it into town in time to say hey to the gang before checking in . Even so, I can't help but roll down the window and soak up just a little UV radiation, relaxing into the upholstery like a melting crayon and nearly swerving off the road in the process. Can't fall asleep, though -- Conundrum got his license permanently revoked after that little incident with the chocolate-covered crickets, the margaritas, and the Stevie Nicks tape, so he can't take the last few miles while I catch a little snooze. Damn inconvenient. Got to stay awake, but it's too far to the next 7-11, so caffeine or trucker's speed is out. Maybe a couple tunes will keep my eyes open. Shit. Radio's still tuned to some mindless Top 40 station. Should never have left the Conundrum in the car back at that last gas station, but it's hard enough getting good service without the asshole behind the counter gaping at the 6'3", half-naked, puzzle-tattooed gentleman who happens to be paying for half the gas. And who has crap taste in music. I reach for the dial, see if I can't hunt up something with a little more spice, a little more joie de vivre to it, but Le C swats my hand from the panel with a low but sincere snarl. The man loves his pop-culture fluff, and damned be he who comes between him and Mariah Carey, whose perky strains are now filling the car. "You win this time, but it's Squirrel Nut Zippers after this," I say, acceding as gracelessly as I can. I'm a sore loser when it comes to La Guerre de La Radio, what can I say? The Conundrum just grunts and makes an impatient chopping motion with his hand. Conversation over. He can speak English just as well as I can, maybe better, but he likes to keep up the "untamed savage" act for fun. I shrug and keep my eyes on the road, taking some comfort in the fact that at least it's not that much further to town. "Just...like...honey," croons my traveling companion, waving his hands in time to the beat. His version bears as much resemblance to the original as a MIDI file does to the Boston Pops. The hand-dancing is also a little much. I think I'm gonna be sick. And then...I see them. We'd passed a broken-down Volvo on the side of the road a while back, but I've forgotten all about it until I see these two women walking alongside the road. I almost skid off the asphalt when they come into view...particularly the little blonde one. Oh, sure, the tall dark-haired one is easy enough on the eyes, but she carries herself like the type who kills twelve guys like me before breakfast on the mornings when she's feeling spunky. The blonde, on the other hand...I can tell she likes it when someone makes her laugh. Something in her bearing (and, possibly, her wardrobe) says that she savors the exotic and doesn't fear the strange. Gorgeous, groovy, graceful; radiant, divine, luminous; i.e., my type. Wow. I pull the reluctant Bug to a halt; the halberd dangling in front of the windshield skitters dangerously forward, but I'm not thinking about the security of the luggage rack just now. If I'm even thinking at all. I lean out of the window, ignoring the confused look the Conundrum is shooting at me, and what I want to say is: "O lady, come away from this place with me; come away with me to the Casbah, to the shaque d'amour where we shall spend our days in paradise", but instead I opt for the marginally saner: "Need a lift, ladies? Where you headed?" "Anywhere with a towing service," answers the goddess in a voice like morning bells, and treats me to a full view of the beauty of her visage. Oh...green eyes. I've never seen them occur naturally, and on her I think just about anything would do, but green is wonderfully, particularly suited to her. That old black magic called love is working its voodoo mojo on me for sure, I think as I hop out of the car as genteelly as possible. After seeing the expressions on their faces, I'm aware for the first time in days of how I must look after about a week of driving, but then, road travel never made anyone a god, except maybe Jack Kerouac or Thelma and Louise. "I'm Dr. Blockhead, this is my...associate, the Conundrum," I say by way of introduction, waving quickly at my companion. You would not believe the ease he has in picking up women even if I told you, so I won't. He waves to the pair calmly, though, still bopping his bald, blue-splotched head along with his one true love, Mariah Carey. "We're headed for Gibsonton, it's not too far now," I explain, pulling up the driver's seat to allow the goddess and her friend passage into the back. Please, good madames: we're not rapists, serial puppy kickers, or perverts -- just...artists who don't mind playing eccentric knights-errant to random damsels in distress. "Sarah Covington, and we appreciate it," demurs the goddess -- Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, a name to be exalted unto the firmament -- as she clambers in with a nod of acknowledgment to the Conundrum, who thoughtfully turns down the radio. The brunette doesn't give a name, just eases herself into the back. Hell, maybe she doesn't have one, or maybe Sarah is both their names and the Conundrum and I are going to be assimilated, but since resistance is futile, I'm past caring as I climb back in and coax the Bug into starting again. "So what's in Gibsonton?" asks the divine Sarah politely, once we're on our way, and I search for the least potentially disturbing answer. "I have friends there," I offer at last. "We meet up every year to break from touring." Only last year half the guys opted to take a trip to Disneyland, and due to several mysterious circumstances I was nearly arrested for murder by Sheriff Jim-Jim and a couple of FBI agents, one of whom was a really cute redhead who could've slapped cuffs on me anytime she wanted to so far as I was concerned, and the Conundrum nearly got eaten by a voluntarily detachable conjoined twin, I neglect to add. Mainly because I still don't believe half of it myself. "You're performers?" The angel sounds intrigued. Quick! What's a nice polite term for what you and the Human Garbage Disposal Unit here do? "Yeah. I do body manipulation. My friend here is a geek act," I shout, the baggage strapped to the top of the Bug making a hellish rattle as we hit a pothole-riddled stretch of highway. Read: I stick assorted sharp implements into various parts of my body and my friend here eats really fresh sushi, among other things. Wanna catch dinner and a flick sometime, you sweet young thing? in the backseat, I can just barely hear Sarah whisper to her friend: "What's a geek act?" "They do freak shows. Eat live fish, run around half-naked, act like 'wild people', etc. etc.," explains her nameless friend. Ace on the history of the art, too -- I'm impressed, and even the Conundrum gives a nod of appreciation of the stranger's erudition. "Oh." The goddess is distinctly unimpressed, I fear. But you know what? I don't even care. The day has been beautiful, I'm driving with a friend and two of the most amazing-looking women I've ever seen are along for the ride, and I'm heading home. I'm feeling pretty fan-fucking- tastic as I take one hand off the wheel to search around for some music. "So...what kind of music do you ladies prefer?" I ask hopefully. "Squirrel Nut Zippers, maybe?" The End Back to the Beginning |