Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer
Red Skies Blue Skies
Volume I
By Jamie Ott
Copyright
Jamie Ott 2010. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used
without written permission, except for where credit duly given.
Black Crowe Publishers: an imprint of Passionate Prose Industries
ISBN-13: 978-0615517124
ISBN-10: 0615517129
For all inquiries, please contact passionateprose@mail.com.
Flight
Chapter 1
By her own hand, Jacko’s mother had been dead for several years. He lived with his father, John, whom the boy hated with every fiber of his being. Although, on one hand, he missed his mother, he also hated her, too. She abandoned and left him to deal with his father and “friend,” as he called her. They thought he was stupid and didn’t know what was going on, but he wasn’t. Just because she managed to leave before he was awake, or stay hidden until he was away at school, didn’t mean he didn’t know she was there all night.
Jacko lay in bed and listened in disgust to the giggling on the other side of the wall. He moaned loudly and slammed his pillow over his head as he rolled over onto his belly. He couldn’t relax with the creaking sound of the bed in the next room, and the tapping, repeatedly, sending vibrations into the wall.
It was bad enough that they were together but did they have to rub it in? Were they trying to drive him crazy?
Violently, he shot up from his bed. He stomped to the door, which he slammed into the wall. Without knocking, he opened his father’s door and slammed that into the wall, too. His father, John, and his “friend” Anna jumped to their sides of the bed while trying to cover up. Jacko yelled, “Shut up! I can hear everything you two do through the wall! I’m sick of it!” He rammed the door shut and went back to his room.
The floor rumbled under the force of his feet as he walked back to his bed where he, heavily, plopped his body. The metal frame bounced back and forth off the wall.
His father opened Jacko’s door, entered the room, calmly, and gently closed the door, again. Jacko remained with his face buried in his pillow and readied himself for his father’s backlash.
He walked to the bed and yanked his head up with a fistful of hair. Jacko tried to resist, but his father was much stronger. John pulled his head back, and then gave him a powerful red welt across the face. In a low voice, he said, “You ever do that, again, and I will beat the crap outta you.”
John slammed his face down, hard into the pillow and went back to his room.
The tapping against the wall resumed.
Jacko screamed into his pillow.
He tried to go back to sleep, but, with each tap, Jacko grew angrier and angrier. For a moment, he imagined shooting his father and Anna, right as they lay in bed, together. Next, he fantasized about shooting himself in the head. Finally, he rolled over onto his back and screamed so loud that the neighbors could have heard, “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMOOOOOORE!!”
Jacko got out of bed, grabbed his air rifle, and loaded it with pellets.
His father stumbled angrily back into his room. He looked up in time to see his father’s face, red with rage, as he made to rush Jacko. Only, this time, he wasn’t going to let his father beat him. This time he quickly pointed the rifle and shot multiple pellets at him.
His father yelped like a dog as he jumped back. He stopped shooting, so his father would have a chance to leave the room. Instead, John and Jacko’s eyes met for a second, and then he made to rush him, again.
Jacko sent another round of pellets at him. John jumped up and down as he jerked his body about the room like chicken in a cock fight. The pellets hit him ferociously in the chest and thighs, with one getting him square in the crotch. John, finally, turned to leave the room and Jacko shot multiple pellets at his back side as he ran out.
Jacko wouldn’t have much time for escape, so he rushed into his jeans, a sweater, and a jacket. Then he packed a change of clothes into his red backpack. Next, he grabbed his laptop bag, threw in his cell phone, wallet, and keys. He raised his rifle, and, slowly, opened the door and exited the way he’d seen it done on television.
With his gun raised skyward, he poked his head out. He looked left and right and, upon seeing that all was clear, walked, quickly, into the hallway with his rifle pointed outward. Jacko scanned the area, and then made his way, carefully, to the stairwell.
He walked slowly downstairs where, as he stepped off the last step, and onto the landing, he spotted his father on the phone. Jacko assumed he was talking with the police, as they had been through similar violent scenarios before that night. John always ended up calling the cops, who always took his father’s side of all their disputes.
They looked at each other; his eyes shifted down to the rifle and back up to Jacko’s face.
John, gently, hung up the phone.
Innocently, John lifted his eyebrows as he walked toward him, trying to emanate a calm yet concerned look with his face. He opened his arms and held them out in a welcome, hug-like gesture, as though trying to convince Jacko, through body language, that all was fine.
His father stepped a few paces closer to Jacko, and then charged him like a bull. He made it outside the door in time to hear his father ram himself into the coat rack nailed to the wall behind the door.
Parked on the street was his 250cc scooter. Jacko got on and rode off without looking back.
“Get your ASS back here!” Jacko heard as he sped off.
Several police cars turned onto his street as he approached stop signs at the end of his block. He knew they must be headed for his home, but Jacko remained calm as he looked both ways before making a left turn.
Nothing mattered to Jacko, anymore, because he was determined never to look back on the town with the father that let him down in so many ways.
~~~
Jacko’s real name was John, like his father’s. His sister, Sissy, told him he’d earned the nickname around Halloween time; that when he was a toddler, learning to speak, he loved the way Jacko, from the word Jack o Lantern sounded. After a week of saying the word, repeatedly, Sissy and his mother became fond of it as a nickname, instead of the common name, Junior.
He was happy to go by Jacko, instead of Junior, because he didn’t want to be anything like his father.
Jacko remembered, clearly, the night his mother and sister left them, and he remembered his father being the cause of his mother’s grief; it was the grief that was the reason she was dead.
Yes, he was quite young when they left, but he remembered, vividly, the pain and awkwardness that followed their absence. He remembered how sick he felt when his father and Anna holed up in his room on the same night they left. They blasted music, and only came out, every so often, to get a beer.
Jacko, alone, retched again and again into the toilet, in between tears.
What fueled Jacko’s anger was his sister’s insistence that he not hate his father.
After what his father did, he did not understand how she could expect him to feel different. They, as a family, were happy, until Anna came along, so how could she forgive so easily?
There was a period when Jacko was angry with his mother and Sissy, too, for leaving him behind. It hurt to think that Sissy was more loved than he. Why else would his mother take her, and not him? But, when weeks went by without word from either of them, and as his father spent, increasingly, more time with Anna, he became severely depressed.
It wasn’t more than a month after they had moved out that he got the news of his mother’s suicide. He didn’t know all the facts about what happened, except that she’d consumed a large amount of hemlock root that was boiled into a tea – “a strange method of suicide,” a cop commented.
The police delivered the shocking news in their living room, one evening. His father was stone faced and stone cold as they told him how Sissy called 9-1-1, but, when they got to their home, she’d gone.
Jacko didn’t know, at first, what happened to Sissy, as she didn’t talk to him for several years. Then, one day, she sent him an email. Immediately, he let go of all his anger toward her, for she was all he had. He was grateful she’d come back to him. She was always a good sister; she was always kind and loving; she never picked on him. It made him sad that she was five years older than he was because, sometimes, he thought, if she were with him, then maybe he could tolerate John and his “friend.”
~~~
It was particularly black that April night, as he rode north, along the ocean, toward San Francisco. His blood boiled angry-hot for many miles, and his cell phone rang every half hour. He knew it was his father, but he just didn’t care. They had been through struggles, similar to what happened that evening, and they always ended the same way: Jacko sent to his room, and his father and Anna off drinking and partying.
Despite the cold air, Jacko sweated excessively. He took off his helmet and allowed the wind to dry his soaked face.
Deeply, he inhaled the ocean air, and, with each exhale, he felt his anxiety-stiffened muscles relax.
His face was still sweaty when he put the helmet back on, but he didn’t want a ticket because he didn’t have a license.
Jacko’s phone started to vibrate in his pocket again; he grabbed it, looked at the screen, saw it was his father, and threw it to the side of the road.
Three hours later, he rode into the small township of Gonzalez, off the 101 freeway. Too tired to ride anymore, he went east at the first stop sign, and then went off-road into a large grassy area.
A wide berthed, barren tree with numerous leafless branches stood 100 yards away from the road. Jacko rode up, and parked his bike behind the tree.
He swung his tired, stiff leg off the scooter, yanked off his helmet, and stretched long and hard toward the sky.
Jacko put his helmet on the rack, and pulled his tarp and sleeping bag out from the luggage compartment. After spreading the tarp and sleeping bag on the ground, he climbed into it and fell asleep, instantly.
Dawn was cracking, but that wasn’t what woke Jacko. A semi-truck, lugging its way to the freeway blew its horn, scaring the heck out of him. After that, it was hard to ignore the deep penetration of the sun’s rays that leaked through his sleeping bag and the lids of his eyes.
He tried to nod off again, anyway, but the chill from the ground was already forcing multiple waves of shivers through his muscles and joints; then another truck on the road blew its lousy horn.
After a few more moments, he gave up trying to sleep. He packed his items and left.
The morning chill was harsh, so he hurried to the freeway, and then looked for a café where he could thaw out.
His fingers recoiled on the chilly bike handles, and his teeth chattered against his chin strap. He should have looked through the luggage compartment and gotten his leather gloves. Oh well.
~~~
Ten miles up the road, he found a nearly vacant little diner. He walked up to the counter and ordered a tall coffee and a breakfast burrito. Feeling the hot coffee bleed down his throat, into his stomach, was the only thing that kept him from falling asleep while sitting up; it was terrible, sleeping on the cold rocky ground all night.
He tried to focus on how much money he had, and where he should go. If he remembered correctly, there would be about a thousand dollars in his bank account, after his last paycheck.
It had taken him a whole year to save that money by working, part time, in his uncle’s car repair. His uncle always asked him why he preferred spending all his time in the shop, rather than out with friends. Although he didn’t say, Jacko always knew, in the back of his mind, that he’d leave his father sooner, rather than later.
But a thousand dollars wasn’t enough to do anything. He was a minor, so he couldn’t get an apartment. His father’s family was sure to send him right back home, and he knew nothing of his mother’s side of the family.
As he sat, contemplating, a thought plugged itself into his mind, almost as though someone whispered it into his ear. It said, Go to your sister’s; she’s already expecting you.
Hmmm, he thought. How would his sister react if he showed up? And, in fact, he did have the feeling that she would be expecting him.
But how do I know that? He asked himself.
Well, it doesn’t matter because she was all the family he had, so she’d have to help him.
He would go to Concord, New Hampshire, where she lived; he just wouldn’t call her until he got close. If he waited until he got close to Concord, and then called Sissy, she couldn’t possibly refuse him.
Hopefully, he could persuade her to help him start a life of his own. Heck he could get another job, take the GED; he didn’t have to give up on college, he’d just take night classes.
Settling on the decision to visit Sissy in Concord made him feel slightly exuberant. He finished his breakfast and went next door, to the gas station, and bought a national map and a cheap little prepaid phone, for in case of emergency, and to call Sissy with, when he got close to Concord.
After he traced, with his finger, the interstate freeways, he didn’t waste time getting back on his bike and riding the whole morning through, and only stopping to refill his tank and buy a few bottles of water.
The worst part of the trip was when Jacko had to go over the Bay Bridge; although he grinded the bars, his little 250 would go no faster than 60 mph which, although the speed limit was 45 on the bridge, people seemed to think Jacko was a pest. People honked, and always made sure to extend their middle fingers, as they rode around him.
Cars continually slammed their breaks, and skidded behind him, making his blood pressure shoot up. Frightened by the repeated squeals coming from behind, he wondered if he was clearly visible on the poorly lit, blue bridge.
He didn’t feel safe, again, until he made it into San Francisco, where people seemed less hostile toward scooter riders.
The Golden Gate Bridge wasn’t so bad because it was brightly lit and completely open, skyward, right under the sun. He was able to stretch his legs, a moment, in the bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Eventually, the bridge’s afternoon traffic started to clear, and he made it to Marin, where he decided to pullover and have a rest.
Starved and exhausted, he took the nearest exit into the city and parked his bike near the window of a harbor restaurant. Inside, a pretty waitress with wide owl shaped blue eyes stared him up and down in a way that made Jacko aware that he was about to be asked questions. There was an older man who sat behind a register, reading a newspaper; he looked at him and tipped his hat.
Worried, Jacko, reluctantly, nodded back.
The waitress sat him at a table, and then walked off to the kitchen. She quickly came back out and brought him a complimentary New England chowder soup.
The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Jacko could tell she was a very nosey person and, when she didn’t stop staring at him, he said in a very short and direct manner, “Stop looking at me.”
The waitress looked surprised at Jacko’s assertiveness. He continued, “I’d like a cola, please.”
She ignored him and continued to stare down at him, as if he were an oddity of nature.
“If you can tear your eyes away from the show, perhaps you can do your job? Or should I leave?” and Jacko got up.
“Lorraine,” said the man with the hat, “Get the boy a drink!”
He got up and went to the restroom.
Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, he though, No wonder the waitress was staring at me.
Jacko looked like he’d spent the morning tumbling in hay. His shirt had been soaked, several times through, with sweat. His hair was a yellow poof on his head, his red puffy eyes looked anaphylactic, and his tee shirt had crusty yellow tinge to it, like a sock.
Ugh! he said to himself, as he bent over the sink and splashed water onto his face and hair. Then, he reached into his red backpack and pulled a clean tee shirt out.
Back at the table, the waitress asked him where he was from. Jacko’s skin turned red with anger because he wanted to be left alone. Instead of having a restful lunch, he now had to find a lie to satisfy the nosey woman.
After a moment, he said, “San Francisco. I’m just going to visit my friend in Sonoma,” Jacko said and looked down at his soup.
“Aren’t you a little young to be riding that scooter? It looks a little dangerous, too, and especially to ride over the bridge?”
The lady stood there and waited for him to answer. His mind raced as he stalled by taking a bite of his soup. He chewed the chunks thoughtfully for a moment, sighed loudly, and said, “I know being small time means you’ve got nothing better to do, but do you have to ruin my lunch? If it’s money you’re worried about, well, here,” and he showed her his wallet. “So if that’s what you’re concerned about, problem solved.”
“Alright then, I’ll leave you alone” she said in a low voice.
Hoping she wouldn’t spit in his burger for being rude, he watched the waitress as she reentered the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the woman came out with a burger and fries, which she left on the table, without saying a word.
After pulling the burger apart and verifying that it was safe, he wolfed down the sandwich. Periodically, the waitress would throw a glance at him, but he kept eating.
When he finished, he took the check up to the old man, behind the counter, who apologized for the nosey waitress. “My niece,” he said, and gave him a ten-percent discount.
He thanked the man who, just before he walked out of the door, said “You’re leaving now? Traffic’s coming and you can’t be on the road with that little bike,” but Jacko smiled, said “thank you” and left.
Jacko looked at the freeway, which was visible from where he stood. The old man was right; there were a lot of cars going in both directions.
Without stopping for gas, Jacko rode as fast he could to the 80.
It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t ride around all the traffic, but what worried him was it would slow him down. He wanted to get away from the cities, and into the country side, before dark. There, he could sleep, camp, or get a motel room without question.
When he made it onto the 80 ramp, happiness welled up inside him. The realization that he was closer to leaving rotten California was exciting. He resented the west coast, the people who lived there, and everything he’d ever experienced.
Yes, his resentment included his father, too, for he was the main reason why he was so miserable, and such misery has a way of ruining everything for a person. Leaving, and starting over again, was the fresh start he needed in his life.
As he rode on, he fantasized about how happy he was going to be. He’d be on his own without rules, or anyone to strong arm him. He wouldn’t have to look at his father, not that his father ever really looked at him. Just one more thing Jacko didn’t have to deal with: guilt for being alive, guilt for being in his father’s house. Once settled in Concord, he would get a small apartment, work in the day, and take a class or two in the evenings. Maybe he’d get a girlfriend!
The increasing temperature distracted Jacko from his thoughts. He observed his surroundings, and noticed the scenery had changed from stretches of mown grass in between cities, to miles of green prairie with trees. The air was hot, dry, and dusty, but he didn’t mind because he could slow his bike down, and relax.
Despite the heat, Jacko tried to press on, but he didn’t last too long. The problem was the glare of the sun; it was barely noticeable through his helmet, yet continued to heat his clothes and radiate to his flesh.
When the heat became unbearable, he pulled to the side of the grassy road to take a break.
He took off his jacket and let the air cool his arms. Jacko stretched out his legs and walked up and down the side of the road for a bit. He looked out across the miles and miles of desolate land ahead of him.
As he turned around and walked back in the opposite direction, he noticed, not too far from him, bit of dust from the brown and green grass whirl upward in circles to form a little dust devil.
Jacko pulled a bottle of water out of his bike’s luggage compartment, sat on the grass, and watched the dust whirl. He chewed on some dried fruit and jerky he had in his luggage compartment.
Despite his snack, Jacko’s stomach started rumbling again. Such was the plight of a growing teen. He was constantly hungry these days. The sweet from the fruit and harshness of the jerky made him hungrier.
Jacko packed up his snacks and put them back in his luggage.
After a few more moments of rest, he mounted his bike again. However, just when he was about to turn the key, he had a strange feeling that made him stop. The feeling was of someone familiar to him nearby.
Instinctively, he thought about his mother and looked around him for the source.
Jacko looked back at the dust devil and noticed how the particles seemed to be frozen in the air. He shook his head, hoping to straighten out his eye sight.
Maybe he needed more rest?
His eyes had played tricks on him before, when he’d stayed awake for long periods of time, and, although he slept the night before, he was still exhausted.
Maybe after he crossed the state line, he’d check into a motel.
Again, he went to start the ignition of his bike. Only, this time, he thought he saw a smiling face instead of his key in the circular ignition.
Quickly, Jacko drew back his hand.
Wow, he thought, I must be really tired.
Perhaps he’d done too much riding that day. Thinking it must have been the constant heat and glare of the sun, he closed his eyes and counted to ten, then, blindly, turned the key.
When the motor came on, he opened his eyes. The face was gone. He looked up and saw the dust devil had settled, but there wasn’t any explanation for what Jacko saw next.
A nearly transparent head floated in the air, right above where the dust devil had been. The face looked familiar to Jacko, with dark brown shapely eyes and white blonde hair, but the features were exaggerated as the wind blew through the shape.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, as though trying to write his own self off. He looked down and behind him, and then sped onto the 80, and didn’t stop until he reached the state line.
Crossing Over
Chapter 2
As soon as Jacko crossed the state line, the heat intensified, making him feel even more tired, so he found a cheap motel off of a stretch of road right outside Reno, Nevada.
The desk clerk didn’t ask any questions of the boy. He, simply, gave him a key without even saying hello! Jacko liked that!
When he walked back outside, Jacko noticed a dive diner with low class people screaming, yelling, drinking, and hanging about in the parking lot to his right. He, then, looked to his left and saw only the highway and miles of more dusty grassland. He pushed his bike up to the second floor of the motel, and parked it right outside his window.
Once inside, he peeled his clothes off, climbed into bed, and slept.
Six hours later, an earthquake woke him by vibrating the bed. He looked around and realized it was not an earthquake, but a rumble in his stomach.
The clock said nine p.m.
He had two huge meals today!
Inwardly, he yelled at himself, Why can’t I stop being hungry?
He stumbled out of the lumpy, sinking, bed. Then he showered and rinsed his shirts in the bath tub. He hung one to dry, and put the other one on. Better wet than stinky, plus the shirt lowered his body temperature, considerably.
Outside his door, the first thing that scared Jacko was the loud, rowdy, voices of older people. What if they tried to start something with him?
The voices were coming from the parking lot behind the diner, where he saw seven rowdy men hanging about semi-trucks. Not very far from those men, he eyed several prostitutes standing about cackling and smoking.
Jacko drew in his breathe, brought up his chest, and tried to be brave while praying that no one would talk to him.
When he opened the door to the diner, his stomach quivered at the smell of grease and burgers. Despite what he’d seen, which was about two dozen scary, hairy, overweight, tough, burly, truckers - half of which seemed to be missing a good deal of teeth - his stomach propelled him forward.
In the air, hung a nasty, thick, haze of cigarette smoke; through which several of the faces looked him up and down. To Jacko, they looked surly and mean. In particular, a dark haired guy in a blue and black plaid shirt tried to stare Jacko down.
He looked down at his feet and continued to the available spot at the bar that was closest to him upon entry; that way, if there was trouble, he could just run.
“What can I get ya?” asked a waitress with eyebrows that rose up into her forehead, and an incredibly wrinkled face.
“Bacon burger, fries, and a cola,” he mumbled.
She went off to get his order when the guy who stared him down approached.
“Hey, kid. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?” the man asked with a menacing curiosity that did not go unnoticed.
Instinctively, he knew the guy meant him anything but good. The way his eyes shifted down to his leather jacket, down to his shoes, and back to Jacko’s eyes, made his skin tingle.
The man’s sunken eye’s looked dark and empty, yet full of crazy. The skin of his face was falling into dark, leathery folds. He was severely underweight and his breath smelled bad.
Jacko sat for a moment trying to think of what to say.
“Say something. What are you deaf? Where are your parents?”
“I’m just here to get a bite and go. Is that okay?” Jacko asked, trying to sound tough.
“So you’re all alone, huh?” the man grabbed him by the back of the neck, forced him off the chair, and pushed him to the ground. “Well, that’s just great cuz I’m lookin’ for a little action tonight, and your face has got ‘awl’ my attention, pretty boy, hee hee,” the man laughed almost like a donkey.
“Hey” said the waitress who set Jacko’s food on the counter, “leave him alone or get out.”
The man’s face lost the laugh, and his eyes became real serious and dark as he said, “Don’t need to tell me, twice, wrinkle.”
“Screw you.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” he mumbled, “I got me som’in…” he talked to himself as he walked back to his seat.
Jacko sat back down to eat at an extremely slow pace; he knew he needed to be worried, so he took his time to think how, best, to leave the diner.
Unfortunately, no good ideas came to his mind. Jacko slowly turned his head to see the man was watching him. He gave Jacko a dirty smile and winked his right eye at him.
It crossed his mind that maybe he needed a weapon. Slowly, carefully, he slipped the butter knife into the sleeve of his jacket. When he’d finished, the lady asked if he wanted anything else. Jacko asked if someone would escort him back to his room, but the woman rolled her eyes and told him to leave if he was done ordering.
Jacko hated the waitress for not showing even the least bit of sympathy for his situation. He looked to his left and saw the man was, now, standing at the door of the restaurant, laughing at Jacko’s attempt to save himself; the waitress saw it too but couldn’t care less.
Needless to say, he didn’t leave the ugly, old bat a tip; in fact, he completely skipped out on the meal. He figured his best chance was to run out of the diner as quickly as possible. If he paid the diner, then the guy would know he was preparing to leave, but if he just ran, it would be a surprise that would give Jacko a head start! Besides, if the waitress couldn’t find it in her conscience to help a boy in trouble then he was entitled to a free last supper, as, if the crazy man caught him, Jacko was sure he’d be dead.
He sat extremely still for a moment while gathering up his courage to run. Next, he stood up and bolted out of the door, as fast as he could. Jacko ran around to the back of the building. This seemed like a good idea because he didn’t want that psycho following him back to his room. The last thing he needed was for his bike to get trashed, or for someone to burst through the lame lock of his motel room while he slept.
Jacko waited in the back lot of the diner for fifteen minutes, but he never heard the diner door re open or subsequent footsteps. He didn’t know if he should continue to stay where he was or try to make it back to his room.
One strange thing he did notice was how quiet it had suddenly got, as though all the truckers and hookers had gone away. Oh boy, he thought. If they were gone, he was definitely in trouble. On the other hand, he wondered, if they weren’t gone, would they care if an innocent boy was being beaten to death?
He slowly walked out from behind the building. Looking all around him, he carefully walked his way back toward the front of the diner, which was the only way back to the motel.
Jacko felt a moment of relief, as he thought he was in the clear. He was just about to take off running, when suddenly he was grabbed from behind and thrown up against the stone wall of the diner; the knife fell to the ground.
“Hey pretty boy? Where’s your mama?”
He man threw a fist in his gut that sent Jacko reeling for air. The excruciating pain spread all the way down to his groin and up to his neck.
Jacko was nearly in fetal position, yet still standing as he tried to catch his breath.
The man pulled Jacko straight up by the collar of his jacket. He ran his hand through Jacko’s hair and caressed his face and neck; Jacko gasped for air.
“Why are you doing this?” he breathed.
“Because I don’t take crap from nobody, especially not from a faggot like you,” and he hurled Jacko’s face down onto the edge of his knee where his cheek split.
At that moment Jacko got really scared because he knew the man wasn’t going to stop there.
Tears sprung from his eyes when the man decided to make mince of the flesh covering his ribs.
A few more brutal connections numbed Jacko out. The heel of the man’s boot slammed his head into the ground.
Funnily, he thought to himself that the ground felt soft, like a feather pillow, and then there was silence. All seemed to go black and, for a moment, he felt like he was floating in air.
In that silence, there was a low ringing noise in Jacko’s ear. Slowly, it grew louder and louder, and Jacko wondered if he had blacked out. Why was he dreaming of ringing noises and feather textured tarmac? How could he be thinking of these things when a psycho was beating the crap out of him?
That was when Jacko saw the face again; white blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
“Sissy?” said Jacko.
As quickly as he saw the face was as quickly as it disappeared.
Remembering where he was, he opened his eyes and wondered why he was no longer being hit. A few feet away, the man was propped on his elbows, on the ground, and was looking at Jacko with confusion on his face.
What Jacko didn’t see was, while he was contemplating his state of awareness, the man tried to kick him once more.
Mysteriously, instead of giving Jacko a whopping good one, he was somehow knocked backward onto the ground.
Now, the vagrant man may have been confused, but he wasn’t willing to give up on easy prey.
He watched as the man stood back up and made to boot stomp poor Jacko, once more. He sent his heel right in the direction his forehead, but, for some reason, he couldn’t make the connection.
The man’s foot just stopped mid-air at a few inches above his face.
Confused, he tried to retract his boot from the frozen point in the air, but couldn’t. He cursed, growled, and scowled enraged. The man huffed with his hands around his ankle and pulled with all his strength.
Suddenly, he flew off, backward, and his legs flew over his head. The man landed still-faced, down on the ground.
Despite his shaky equilibrium, Jacko pulled himself up. Wiping the blood from his eyes, he started to limp his way in the direction of the motel. He stopped when he heard a strange gurgling noise coming from the man.
Jacko walked back over to the man and kicked him onto his back. He was struggling to breathe. The man’s hands were pinned to his side as he struggled and tossed about, like a fish out of water. He wondered if the man were having a seizure? His crazy brown eyes bugged out as he opened his mouth wider, and tried to breathe in.
For a moment, Jacko considered running off and leaving the evil man to die, but then his conscience kicked in. He couldn’t just leave a man to die no matter what he’d done to him. With that thought, Jacko ran back inside the diner to tell the waitress to call for help.
The waitress was unmoved by Jacko because she was angry at him for stiffing her. Upon seeing him, she screamed nonstop that he’d better pay her or she’d whip his ass. That he was beaten, bloody, and his clothes were torn, made little difference to the wrinkled woman. Jacko looked around for a payphone but there was none. Yes, he could call from his cheap, little, prepaid phone, but it was registered in his name.
He looked around to see if anyone looked like they would help him. Unfortunately, all he saw were the many faces of uncaring, big bellied, plaid wearing truckers. All they could hear and see was the scary waitress screaming at bloodied Jacko.
Then, a man in a dirty white apron burst from the door behind the counter. He walked up to Jacko, yelling. Jacko screamed at the man that he needed to call an ambulance, but the man kept shouting.
Ignoring the man, he ran back outside, and the man followed. “You get back, boy!” But when he saw the man, with the plaid shirt, turning blue on the ground, he was completely silenced.
The man had passed out while Jacko was inside arguing with the waitress. At that moment, when he kneeled down to check to the man’s airway, a voice whispered inside his head; it told him to leave, quickly.
He stood up fast and looked around for the source, but all he saw was the cook running back inside the diner. The voice whispered again - hurryyy.
Jacko limped-ran back to his room in which he gathered his items, and stuffed his bag quickly. Stumbling down the steps with his bike, he looked across the lot to see two cowboys bending over the body while one spoke into a phone.
Several hours later, he was miles away from Reno. Deep down, Jacko was worried about the man, and hoped that he would be okay.
What would happen to him, if the man died? He kept asking himself.
Thinking about what happened at the diner made his head hurt, but he couldn’t stop. He tried to focus his thoughts on the line of city lights in the skyline, ahead, but the pounding got worse. Then, two flashes of white glared at him from, some feet, ahead of the bike.
Jacko grinded his breaks and the bike went skidding. He swerved off into a ditch and rode onto a ground cactus that flipped his bike over sideways. Fortunately, his jacket was of biker leather, but it didn’t stop the needles that pricked through his skin. He moaned, loudly, and lay still for a few moments. He told himself that he was fine and tried to push himself up, but, instead, he passed out.
When he finally woke up, it was because something wet was slapping his face.
Slowly, groggily, he opened his eyes to find that he was in lumpy, sagging bed. Next to him, he noticed a large impression that was heavily speckled with yellow animal hairs.
He looked around and saw he was in an old and dusty house. The walls were made with old grey slats, through which light leaked.
Jacko slowly pulled his legs over the side of the bed, and rested them on the floor a moment. He had to hold his breath, so as not to put extra pressure on the inside of his stomach and ribs, which hurt bad.
After a moment, he drew in a slow, deep lungful of air and breathed out, heavily, as he stood up. The shock of the pain in his body made him groan so hard that he scratched his throat. He reached a hand up to feel the damage to his face and immediately cried out.
Although Jacko couldn’t see it, he could feel that his face was swollen several sizes larger than normal.
His legs worked, painfully, and he barely made it to the rickety thin door of the room.
When he opened the door, bright blue sky made him squint. He limped outside and saw that he wasn’t in Nevada anymore, or, at least, he couldn’t have been. Instead of desert, he found himself standing in a low land bald spot of a mountainous region.
There appeared to be nothing man made, aside from the house in which he stood, for many miles.
As Jacko’s vision adjusted, he noticed several strange things about his location. The first was the quality of the air that he could see too clearly. He noticed how the little particles moved about actively in little convection like patterns.
When Jacko refocused his eyes, to examine the air more closely, he saw the air was like transparent little bubbles. The bubbles left little speed tails behind its movement, which left a million little traces all across the air and sky.
Next, Jacko noticed the thousands of conifer type trees that surrounded the area, yet they weren’t typical conifers of any species he’d ever seen. They were extremely bright fluorescent green, and had transparent fluorescent auras making convection patterns around them. The trees appeared to go on for many miles into the sky, which was impossible thought Jacko.
Even stranger was the grass that wasn’t grass at all, but seemed to be patches of moss.
He slowly lowered to the ground and extended a bit of it for closer examination.
The moss extended from the ground in massive amounts of coil. It felt slimier than moss would and, up close, looked more like grated zest all stuck together. The color was green, like spirulina, and with a similarly funky smell. It expanded and contracted in his hand, as if it was breathing.
At first, Jacko was scared by the breathing moss, but his fascination won out. He ripped some of the moss from the ground to see what it would do. Immediately, he regretted this because a high pitched squeal emitted from the ground. His hand started to get really hot as the moss turned a fiery red.
He dropped it and jumped back, in alarm. His eyes stayed on the squealing moss that had begun to slowly diminish in size.
“What is going on here?” he asked aloud.
He looked a bit closer at the moss without getting too close. The red cells expanded and contracted even faster. Jacko watched in fascination for a few moments, as it continued to diminish, and then was completely gone.
It occurred to him that he should probably feel bad for what he’d done; that he might have killed the grass, but as he looked up at the trees, he forgot his guilt.
He walked a hundred feet to the edge of the bald spot, up to the closest cluster of trees.
Up close, he could see the needles had strange qualities, too. They were hard like plastic and extremely long. In fact, they were all exactly, approximately, ten inches in length and they matched each other exactly in girth, which was very thin.
Like the moss, they expanded and contracted too. Now Jacko should’ve learned his lesson the first time, but he didn’t. He pulled a needle out and there was a loud hissing noise that came from the tree. The pore, where the needle no longer occupied, smoked and exhaled a sewage-like odor.
Jacko felt really bad at that point, because he didn’t want to hurt living things, but he, once again, forgot his guilt, as he eyed the funny bark and twigs. It was a funny reddish-brown, and, when Jacko touched it, it turned redder.
He tried to pull a little twig off to see what it would do, but the tree drew back its branch and punched him in the head.
Jacko stumbled backward and fell, rolling on the ground and holding his throbbing face. He wasn’t angry, though, because he knew he deserved it.
When the pain subsided, he pulled himself up and walked back toward the house. As he got closer, he noticed there was a little body of water on the other side.
The pond gurgled and bubbled in the center, as he got closer.
At first, Jacko was scared because he didn’t want to get hurt, again. Nevertheless, he walked closer anyway.
Jacko jumped back when the water boiled upward like a geyser and fell back to the pond. He watched the water, for a moment, and determined that the water was going to continue to rise in the same manner.
He inched closer to the bank of the pond and was fascinated to see how the water fell back to the pond in the shape of various animals; mostly fish, but also cows, cats, and birds.
Jacko was amazed! Was the water putting on a show for him? What was this pond?
Well, come and look.
“Huuh?” he said dreamily.
The water was putting some sort of spell on him and he couldn’t resist it.
Sedated, he moved closer to the water. When liquid hands grabbed him and pulled him in, he didn’t even scream.
Jacko was sleepily submerged in the pond, which became bigger once under the surface. Under wasn’t so bad, he thought to himself. He noticed he felt free from pain there. In fact, he felt great, giddy, and happy!
When two big, green, gold fish swam up to him with greetings, Jacko shook their fins with extreme enthusiasm.
“Let’s swim!” and Jacko nodded and smiled.
Under, the water seemed like a whole new world. He looked down and saw his body had been shrunk, but he was unfazed!
They swam so fast! Jacko couldn’t believe their speed. They went worling for miles under the water.
Jacko’s head spun and he grinned because it was fun to get dizzy there. The fish wanted to teach him tricks, and Jacko grinned and swam little figure eights. He hadn’t had as much fun in a long time, and when they invited him to a goldfish tea party, he was so happy that he did a flip out of water for joy.
It was all fun until there was a loud splash, and then something sunk it’s knives into his ankle.
Jacko turned to see it was a big yellow dog. He tried to swim away, but it was shredding his foot. Jacko felt his legs slide through the muddy, mossy bank. The green fish grabbed his hands and tried to help pull him back into the water.
Their efforts were useless because the dog was too strong for them all. The fish were clearly angry, as was Jacko. They jumped up and down through the surface of the water, waving their fins, in the shape of fists, at the dog.
Finally, the big yellow dog pulled Jacko back to the ground. Jacko’s front and face smeared in the mud of the bank. He turned and yelled, “Get off me, you mutt!”
“Excuse me, but I am not a mutt.”
“Okay,” said Jacko, who was shocked that the dog demonstrated intelligence, “is this a dream?”
“It’s not a dream. I’ve come to help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“Help you stay safe on your trip east.”
“Sent by whom?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“I was having fun! Why did you have to pull me out?” he asked angrily.
“If you stay too long, you become a fish. Look at your hands!”
Jacko looked and saw that they had a funny greenish tinge.
“They’ll take you away from reality. The pond goes a lot further than just the ground.”
Jacko didn’t know what the dog meant, and he didn’t bother to ask because he was too busy taking in its size, which was like small horse.
“Were you licking my face a moment ago? Why don’t I hurt anymore?” Jacko’s wounds felt stiff but were no longer open and bloody.
“The water is healing, I suppose, Jacko.” he breathed happily.
“This can’t be real.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, then, what’s that?” said the dog looking down at his feet.
“What’s what?” and he looked down to see that his ankle was bleeding through his jeans. His ankles felt like they were being tugged at with scalpels, again.
“What the heck?”
He felt queasy at seeing his bleeding ankles. “Oh my,” he said.
Feeling dizzy, Jacko closed his eyes and almost passed out.
When he reopened his eyes, he was startled, for he was no longer looking at the yellow dog, but, instead, a night sky.
Still feeling nauseous, he closed his eyes again, and when he opened them, he saw the dog gazing at him.
He was extremely confused, but before he could ask the dog any questions, he felt pain in his ankles, again.
He looked down; his legs wobbled, and he closed his eyes one more time.
Jacko saw the night sky and knew he needed to get up, but he was still dizzy.
“AAAAHHH” the pain from his ankles shot up his legs. He looked down and saw he was flat on the ground, and two large, slimy, grey skinned dogs were pulling Jacko away by the ankles, one in each mouth.
There was a loud, powerful bark that came from above his head. Jacko looked up and saw the yellow dog only he was smaller than a moment ago.
To counterweight the mangy dogs, the big yellow one sunk its teeth into his shoulder, causing Jacko to scream louder.
One of the dogs dropped his leg so that it could bark at the yellow dog. Jacko swung his free leg and kicked the mouth of the dog that held his other ankle. Upon force of contact, the dog’s eyes turned red and his bark to a loud screeching noise, like a fictitious dragon.
Jacko almost wet himself, but the yellow dog yelled, “Chupacabras!”
When Jacko remained still on the ground, transfixed at the sight and sound of the grey dogs, the yellow one, then, yelled “COME ON!” and nipped him on the shoulder.
The nip brought Jacko out of his surprise. Just in time, too, because one of the dogs erupted in scales along the spine of his back, and breathed out a long forked tongue.
Behind them, he saw two more dogs were coming from the rocks a mile out.
When he stood, Jacko was astounded to see that they nearly carried him off while he was passed out. He looked around for his bike, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness because there was no traffic on that desolate stretch of road.
“Come on,” said the dog once more.
Jacko followed the yellow dog back to his scooter, which was some 200 feet back toward the road.
When he got close enough, he stopped.
The bike was no longer his little 250cc; instead it was a full no name bike with a side car that the yellow dog leapt into.
Jacko didn’t know what to do, “This isn’t my bike! I don’t know how to ride it.”
“Just get on, it works the same way; it’s just bigger,” and then the dog pulled out a helmet and goggle with its paws, and pulled the visor down as the straps magically buckled themselves. “Stop gawking, Jacko! We gotta go!”
Jacko jumped onto the seat just as one of the dogs leapt at him. He turned the key and they sped off down the road as the yellow dog turned his head around and barked behind them.
He managed a look in his side mirror and gasped; they had changed from dogs into little scaly, dragon-like animals. They barked and screeched as they tried to catch up to the bike.
Jacko put on more speed and the dragon-dogs were lost.
His heart pounded in his chest for a few minutes as he tried to understand what had happened. He realized the yellow dog could have answers for him but was afraid to stop too soon. Every few minutes, he would look at the bike and dog to remind himself that they were both real.
After another 40 miles east of Reno, Jacko began to wind down. At which point, he pulled over into a deserted gas station for a rest.
He parked behind an empty gas stand and took off his helmet, as did the dog. Reaching in the back, he pulled out a bottle of water and took a few sips.
Jacko wondered to himself if the dog would want water. The dog must have heard his thoughts because he looked into Jacko’s eyes with comprehension, jumped out of the side car, and ran to him.
“Okay,” as he poured water out in a thin stream to the ground. The dog stuck out its tongue and tried to lick up as much of the liquid as it could.
After another sip, he put the bottle back in his luggage and sat on the bike and said “Okay, talk,” but the dog said nothing. He just sat there breathing really hard with his tongue hanging long, down his neck.
“Where did this bike come from, huh?” he asked and the dog just looked at him with a blank stare.
Jacko sighed and pulled out his bag of jerky, which he shared with the dog. Finally he sighed again and said “Alright, dog, don’t talk.”
He dug in the luggage area of the bike and pulled out his sleeping bag and tarp; he kicked all the little rocks out of the way of his intended spot.
Jacko took off his shoes and climbed inside his bag. The dog walked to the bag and lay down next to him. They stared up at the stars as the dog leaned his head back for Jacko to scratch him behind the ears.
Red Skies, Blue Skies
Chapter 3
Hours later, Jacko woke to the sound of cars riding fast along the road. For a moment, he refused to open his eyes. He laid there thinking about the dream he’d had of the funny blue sky, and some green fish he’d made friends with, in a pond; how he’d nearly ran over a dog, and, instead, wound up hurting himself. Eyes still closed, he felt his ribs and then his face: there was no pain.
He opened his eyes, yawned deeply and looked around. There was no yellow dog anywhere to be seen. Turning over, he looked up and his jaw dropped: there was the black motorcycle with a sidecar.
Jacko got up to inspect the bike.
Slowly, he walked around it, looking it up and down. Carefully, he reached out a hand and touched the bike with the tip of his fingers. It was a lovely, dangerous looking bike that gleamed under the sun. It had large red lights in back that looked like devil eyes.
Well, if this is a dream, it ain’t bad, he thought.
“But where’s the dog?” he said aloud.
He continued to think about the dog as he packed his items. He liked the idea of having a companion with him.
Then, just as he was about to turn the ignition of the bike, he heard a barking from behind. He turned and smiled happily at the sight of the dog that leapt into the sidecar.
He got off his bike, reached into his luggage compartment, pulled out jerky, and poured a stream of water for the dog that leapt back out of the sidecar for the snack.
After the dog finished, Jacko got on his bike and the dog leapt back into the side car.
Jacko was about to turn on the bike and go when he realized the dog needed to be strapped in.
“Well, alright. Go ahead, strap yourself in,” he said.
Unlike last night, when the dog was so full of life, he, now, sat there breathing, dully.
Jacko slid off his seat and strapped in the dog.
He looked into its eyes to see if there was any recognition of what happened between them the prior night. When he saw that he was not going to be satisfied, he decided to forget about it.
“Just a dog,” he told himself.
They stopped in Lovelock, Nevada, for breakfast at another little no-name diner.
Outside, in the parking lot, he told the dog to wait. As Jacko spoke the simple words, he had a strong feeling that the dog was only pretending to be simple. Somehow, he knew the dog knew exactly what he was saying to him.
“Why are you pretending?” Jacko asked.
The dog said nothing.
Inside, he was seated at a table behind a family of four.
Jacko watched the Mother and father try to get a hold of their two kids. The older girl was laughing, obnoxiously, as she did something, under the table, to the younger boy.
“Stop kicking me,” the little boy cried.
When she didn’t, he, then, threw a handful of scrambled eggs at her which made her cry.
Jacko laughed as he watched them because it reminded him of when he and Sissy used to tease each other, before his father ruined their lives. He thought about his conflicted feelings: jealousy and anger yet envy that she could leave while he stayed home. At the moment, though, he was glad she left because, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be able to help him, now.
After a plateful of pancakes, eggs, and sausages, he left the restaurant satisfied.
Outside the diner, upon smelling the half dozen sausages Jacko ordered for him, the dog got extremely excited.
He jumped up and down while squealing, barking, and running around him in circles. A few feet away, a couple and their children frightfully froze. Not only was the dog jumping around Jacko, but he was jumping five feet up in the air.
Jacko hurried to his bike, where he set down the foam container of sausages. To Jacko’s relief, the dog immediately stopped its leaping. A few yards away, the couple and their children continued to stare at them for a few seconds before going inside.
After the dog ate the sausages, they went next door to the small grocery store, but, this time, it was even worse.
“Okay, wait here, Dog,” that had become the dog’s unofficial name.
Dog nodded at Jacko who was suspicious, once more, of Dog’s intelligence; nevertheless, he continued inside.
He didn’t dwell because his main concern was getting back on the road.
Jacko strolled up and down the aisles, looking for the section of bottled water. When he found it, he grabbed two six packs, and then walked over to the animal foods section.
A moment later, he was in line behind two cute girls who looked like they might have been twins. Both were holding sodas and some candy.
One was slightly shorter than the other but they both were skinny with long brown hair, all the way down to their waists. When they turned around, it was hard to ignore the way their green eyes glowed against their tan skin.
Both of the girls were trashy looking in their dirty jeans, sandals, and stained tee shirts. After observing them a moment, Jacko noticed the slightly taller one had a longer, feminine face while the shorter had a perfect jaw and full lips. They looked to be about his age. He couldn’t help noticing how cute they were, together; they must be sisters.