Key Weird 01; Key Weird Read online

  I went next door, woke Mary Ann up, and called the police. Then I called Mr. Shirt in New York. Mr. Shirt was none to happy to hear the news, especially since Pete had just quit on him the day before. I seen it coming. Sure enough he asked me where I was while someone was tearing up his place…so I told him, and he fired me.

  So I was sitting there in the kitchen with Mary Ann, waiting on the police to show, and I was starting to get a real bad headache. Mary Ann had been acting kind of strange since I got there, and then I found out why.

  “I hate to have to tell you this, but something’s come up, and I have to finish packing because I’m leaving town in a little while.”

  Having been up all night drinking, I wasn’t at my most alert. At first I thought she was trying out another one of her jokes, but her eyes told me it was the truth.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with you, and no, you can’t come along, and I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s something I have to do by myself, and I’m afraid I really do have to leave right away.”

  About then the police showed up next door. So, with Mary Ann telling me she really liked me, and was going to miss me, I went on over there in a bit of a daze. The big Cuban cop I’d seen before was there and I told him who I was and that I had been out with a friend all night and that friend was gone to North Carolina now.

  So they put the cuffs on me, for my own protection, and stuck me in the back of a patrol car. By then there was all kinds of cops rooting around in the house, and plenty of locals to come over and gawk at me sitting there in the back of the police car. An old Chevy pulled up next-door with some big guy driving and some other people in it and Mary Ann came out with a couple suitcases, got in, and the car left. I was really getting a bad headache.

  Some new cops showed up and one came over, gave me a real mean cop look, and asked me the same questions the other cops had already asked. After every cop and most of the locals in Key West had checked out the situation to their satisfaction, they took me on down to the police station so they could ask me the same questions a few more times.

  I ended up sitting in a little room with a bare table, two chairs, and a phone on the wall. There were two cops in the room too, Sergeant Goodwin sitting in the other chair across the desk, and Sergeant Badowski yelling into the phone.

  The cop across from me smiled pleasantly and told me to just call him Larry. The other cop finished up his phone conversation by telling someone that if it came to that, try to make it look like an accident. He slammed the phone down and stared pacing. Larry pulled out a pack of smokes.

  “Cigarette?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Uh, no, I’m good.”

  Badowski was still pacing, looking down at the floor and shooting glances at me. His partner kept smiling.

  “Soda, candy, gum?”

  “No, thanks.” I tried a smile of my own. “But I could sure use a couple hours sleep.” Badowski slammed both hands down on the table in front of me and got in my face.

  “Where’s your partner? Is he still in Miami? How long have you been in Key West? Don’t try to shit me here, we know you’re linked to that liquor store robbery by the Interstate, the reststop car-jacking, and string of attempted robberies in Miami. You may as well save yourself and everyone else a lot of time and come clean with us now!”

  I let that hang a beat or two before I came back.

  “The two people come closest to a partner I got both just left town this morning, and I ain’t ever been to Miami, much less done no car-jacking or liquor store robbing. And I’m sure y’all checked my record already. My only two encounters with the law before today was a few days in a Texas county jail for improper toxic waste disposal, and three days of jury duty that ended up netting me fifteen dollars a day and a death threat.”

  This wasn’t the hoped for response, obviously, since Larry stopped smiling, and the other cop started yelling into the phone at someone about making room in the pit for another one.

  But after a couple more hours of answering the same questions, the police finally came to grips with the stark reality that I was innocent of breaking into the house where I lived, tearing it up, and stealing stuff. They turned me loose in the afternoon after giving me more mean cop looks and telling me not to leave town.

  So I immediately set about getting my stuff together so I could leave town. Things were going bad fast in Key West. It seemed there were only two things that could be worse, and I wanted to get away for a few days before they showed up.

  Got my camping stuff and plenty of food together, parked my old truck over at Pete’s sister’s place, and lit out in my flats boat.

  I headed northeast out of Key West. I had overheard some fellas in the bar talking once about some old abandoned house up near the Chatham River on the mainland above Cape Sable. It sounded as good as anything, so I checked my charts and started the long run along the Keys and across Florida Bay.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  42

  Ten Thousand Islands and One Stormy Night for Taco Bob

  “…and a cast of millions, all skeeters!”

  It was a beautiful clear day with flat seas when I left Key West, but by the time I was getting up on the mainland near Cape Sable, the weather was turning ugly. There was a real mean-looking storm coming from the west, and I was getting my ass beat from the big waves it was kicking up. I was still a ways from the Chatham River, and it was almost dark. Being low on options out there in the middle of nowhere, I decided to run on up one of the closer creeks and ride out the storm.

  I was just about up to the big wall of mangrove trees that passes for land along there when the rain stopped messing around and got really bad. It was raining so hard it was stinging my eyes and I couldn’t see where I was going anymore. I slowed down and waves started coming over the side of my boat, then I heard a real loud roaring noise, and suddenly I was in the water.

  I got my head up out of the water, but the storm was so bad and it was so dark, I couldn’t see anything. I was having a hard time with the waves and was getting tired out fast since I hadn’t had any sleep the night before. I started to panic.

  Somehow I had the sense to check for bottom, and sure enough I could just barely touch my toes down between the big waves. I figured out which way the land was, and started kind of swimming and hopping over that way.

  The worst part of the storm finally passed, and I got into some shallower water. By the time I got to the mangroves I was completely exhausted. I pulled myself through the mud up on a knot of mangrove roots to rest and was greeted by the worst swarm of mosquitoes I’d ever seen. I went back in the water and just lay there in the shallows with only my face sticking out of the water trying to get away from the skeeters. Somehow I still had my hat, so I put that over my face to try to keep the bugs off, and passed out for a while. I had a real bad night and didn’t get much sleep because as the tide went out, I’d have to move to deeper water to get away from the skeeters.

  ♦

  At first light the bugs seemed to get even worse for a while, but I got up out of the mud anyway and looked around to see where I was. All I could see was water to the west, and mangroves and black mud to the east. My face was all swollen from skeeter bites, and before long I was flat worn out walking up that creek in the waist-deep water, looking for my boat.

  But I finally found her, jammed up high and dry in the mangroves. It must have been a waterspout had come out of the storm to put my boat up in there like that. She didn’t seem to be torn up too bad, and was right side up at least. Most of my stuff was gone, but I did find a few things, including a raincoat. I crawled in the boat and covered myself with the raincoat and tried to get a little sleep.

  In spite of the heat and the bugs, I did manage to sleep some. Then I shook myself out and took stock of my situation. I found a couple fishing poles, my tackle box, a frying pan, and a wet bag of grits, but most all my supplies and the big cooler with my
drinks and water jug was gone. The boat was stuck bad, but I decided I might be able to get it back in the water at high tide if I could cut enough of the mangrove away from it. There wasn’t nothing else around neither, just mangrove trees fifty feet high as far as you could see. Not hardly a bush or a blade of grass anywhere, just mangrove and black mud.

  The boat was quite a ways up the creek, and I didn’t know if it would do me any good to wade back out to the open water to try to signal a passing boat. That whole section of the state is part of the Everglades National Park, and there ain’t nobody living around there for miles. I knew there wouldn’t be much boat traffic coming along anyway, especially that far down into the park.

  I got the anchor out of the boat, set it on the mangrove roots, and made a driftwood fire on it because there wasn’t any actual land, just a solid tangle of mangrove roots over the mud. I managed to cook up some grits to eat, but I was sure thirsty. I waited until the tide started going out good before drinking any of the creek water, but it was still kinda salty.

  I found my Swiss Army knife in my tackle box and used the little saw to cut the mangrove holding my boat, but it was slow going. Then it started getting dark and the bugs got bad again.

  I curled up in the boat and covered myself with the raincoat, but by the next morning the bugs were getting to me and I was feeling kind of sick. I wasn’t hungry anymore, so I just went to working on them mangroves again with my little saw; but I got tired quick and had to go lay down again in the boat.

  By afternoon I was feeling even worse, and decided if I didn’t get some help I was going to be in serious trouble. I figured my only shot was to go back out the creek and hope someone come by in a boat close enough I could signal to ’em. I crawled out of the boat holding onto my raincoat and eased on into the water, but I got dizzy and was about to pass out, so I leaned back against the mangrove roots.

  I realized I must have lost track of time somehow because it was almost dark, and I was getting the shakes, when I saw what looked like a little man standing on a log up the creek not far from me. I got up and started walking in the knee-deep creek over that way to get a better look, but I tripped on something under the water and fell.

  The only other thing I remember from that night was laying on my back, looking at the stars moving along through the tops of the mangrove trees and my head hurting real bad. I couldn’t move because it felt like my hands and feet were tied up, and something was tied across my mouth. Then I must have passed out again.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  43

  Dreams for Taco Bob

  “I slept for a long time and had the damnest dreams!”

  I was floating. I was floating on my back in the cool water of the creek and watching the tree leaves shimmer in the warm peaceful sunlight above me. My body felt strong and aware. I heard laughter in the distance and slowly turned and swam to the shore so gently that I hardly made a ripple in the water. I saw a big alligator sunning herself on the bank just a few feet away, but I had known she was there and slipped out of the water so quietly that she did not even open her eyes.

  There were other boys walking through the dense woods, and I joined them. We moved without leaving a trace. We didn’t even brush against a branch, and we walked so softly that we left no footprint, no sign of our passing. We moved so quietly even the birds did not notice us as they chattered and called out their songs in the trees above us. We came into the village with berries and roots and helped our parents and sisters prepare the meal.

  Our days were spent exploring the woods and swamps and creeks. I learned the songs of the birds in the trees, ran with the deer and swam with the fishes and turtles of the water.

  On the full moon we rode in the giant trees that our parents had made into water vessels, and made our way to the great water to gather shellfish for our feast. We swam in the salty waters but did not fear the shark fish because we swam with our brothers the dolphin, who would warn us of danger and protect us.

  One day the Elders called me to them. I sat on the ground before the old ones, and they told me of wondrous things. Then I knew that two of the Elders were the earth mothers, and they sang in my ears. The third Elder was the sun. He placed his eyes on mine and I went to a place of many beautiful visions and songs. But they were too many for my young mind and they became too strong and powerful. A fierce guardian challenged me, but I was too weak and his presence burned inside my head.

  I held my hands over my eyes until the pain passed, then looked for the guardian, but saw something was wrong with my hands. One hand had only four fingers. Something started coming out from deep inside me and then there was only pain. I cried out.

  ∨ Key Weird ∧

  44

  It’s a Small World for Taco Bob

  “The best soup I ever had, bar none!”

  I woke up in a cold sweat with a terrible headache. I was lying on a mat with a plastic cover, looking across a small room at an ancient cast-iron stove over by a screen door. The only light came from the doorway and one window. I slowly sat up.

  The only other thing in the room I could see was a table and chair, and a pile of rags in a corner near where I was lying. For some reason I really liked that place. After I sat there and thought about it, I realized the reason I liked that place so much was because there weren’t any mosquitoes.

  I laid back down, hoping the hammering in my head would ease up some, and noticed some kind of dried roots or something hanging from the ceiling rafters. Then I noticed the pile of rags had eyes and was watching me.

  That shook me, so I tried to sit up again, but I was real weak and dizzy, so I eased back down. About then I realized I was naked with a little blanket over me, and there was a strange humming noise in the room.

  The pile of rags was a little old man, and he was humming a song I seemed to recognize. I asked him where I was and he just kept on humming that song, and a little while later I went back to sleep.

  ♦

  The next time I woke up, there was more light coming in the window and door, and I could see better. The little old man was sitting there still, and I got the impression that he opened his eyes the same time I did. He stood up and stretched, and I got a good look at him. He was just a little fella, maybe had some Indian blood in him, and he was really old.

  You know how people look when they get to be a hundred? Well, this fella looked like he had seen a hundred a long time ago. Folks have told me before that I looked a little weathered, but I looked like a new-born babe compared to this fella. This was one leathery-looking old dude with a major case of the wrinkles, and he didn’t seem to have a hair on his head either. His clothes were a kind of dirt color, but his little eyes shined when he looked at me.

  He made for the door and was gone before I could ask him where I was, or who he was. I was bad thirsty, so I took a long drink from the water bottle I found next to my mat before going back to sleep.

  ♦

  The smell of food was a pleasant thought, and then I remembered where I was and opened my eyes. It was getting dark again, but I was feeling better, so I sat up and seen there was a little fire in the stove that was throwing some light into the room. There was a pot of food on top of the stove, and I was all of a sudden real hungry. The little old man came in the door, then came over and sat down on the floor in front of me, and started in humming again.

  I asked who he was and he stopped humming. He looked me up and down real slow, then spoke in a real quiet voice.

  “My name is Henry Small, but you can call me Mr. Small.”

  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Small. I don’t suppose you could tell me just where it is I am, could you?”

  “You are here in my house, up one of the creeks that goes into the Lost Man’s River.”

  The old man talked real slow like he wasn’t used to talking. His voice was so quiet I had to really concentrate to hear what it was he was saying.

  “You don’t need to worry about your white boat; it will be
fine where it is for now. The sickness is leaving you, but you still need to rest.”

  Mr. Small got to his feet, and I noticed he seemed mighty limber for a man his age.

  “I’ve been watching out for you the last few days, but it’s time for you to start taking care of yourself. There’s some soup on the stove, if you’re hungry, you can help yourself.”

  And with that he walked out the door.

  I was still a mite weak. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to stand up and walk across the room to the stove, but I sure knew I was hungry. So I crawled on over to the stove on my hands and knees.

  I got myself set up with some soup and sat there on the floor and had at it. About half way through the bowl of soup I realized I needed to go to the toilet in the worst way.

  I got to my feet and stumbled out the screen door. I took two steps in the dark and was in the water. It was such a shock, I stood up real quick in the waist-deep water and in no time about a million skeeters descended on my naked body. I eased on back down in the water and finished up what I had come out there for, then went on back in the little cabin and ate my fill of that fine soup.

  ♦

  I spent the next couple of days mostly sleeping, and eating a little soup, and getting my strength back. Mr. Small told me since I was feeling good enough to be taking a late night swim, I might be feeling good enough to wash up my stinking clothes. He told me where my clothes and an old piece of soap was, so I give ’em a good washing outside in a bucket of rainwater. Mr. Small brought in some gnarly-looking carrots and taters and onions that looked like something he must have grown in a garden someplace.

  There was a stack of old paperback books behind the stove. The old man tore off a couple pages from one of the books, put a match to ‘em, and got some firewood going in the stove.