Hope and Undead Elvis

chapter Eleven

Hope and Asher Harris





The unexpected sound of an approaching engine jolted Hope from a dreamless sleep. She sat up and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The sky had gone from satiny black to matte navy, and a pinkish orange glow highlighted the horizon. Even though she still felt groggy, the realization that the sun was going to rise brought her a joyous feeling.

"Oh good, you're up. I was just gonna wake you." Undead Elvis leaned into the window. The pre-dawn light gave his white jumpsuit an ethereal glow. "Company's comin'."

Hope shook her head to clear away the sleepy cobwebs. Unwilling to trust a stranger after Gabe's death, she took the Shepherds' gun from its case and tucked it into the waistband of her Catholic Schoolgirl skirt.

A single headlight approached and resolved itself into a dusty motorcycle with a dusty rider. He sported a wild mane of gray hair and a full beard stained yellow from years of nicotine. He raised his old bomber goggles up onto his forehead and looked at The Way, stuck in the sand. "Good morning," he said in a voice worn down with many decades of road dust. "Looks like you folks found yourself a spot of trouble." His accent was a strange amalgam of distant regions.

Hope stood beside Undead Elvis, one hand behind her back and wrapped around the pistol grip. "Hi. Yeah, nothing we can't handle, though."

"Do you need some help? I'm sure I could assist you."

"That's okay, mister. I think we got it under control."

The man stripped off his riding gloves with slow, deliberate moves. The sound of Velcro tabs reminded Hope of the way the world used to be. "I'm not fixin' to hurt you. Why don't you take your hand off the roscoe, young lady?"

Hope blinked. She didn't think she'd been that obvious about it. Nevertheless… "I don't think so."

The man sighed, the weight of the world in that one slow exhalation. Then he smiled and extended his hand. "Harris is the name. Asher Harris."

"Hope."

"Elvis," said Undead Elvis.

"Elvis, huh? I heard you were dead."

Undead Elvis shrugged. "Uh-huh."

"Where are you headed?" asked Hope.

"That way."

"The bridge is out."

"I can see that. But y'all made it across."

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't pass me on the road, and your car's facin' the wrong way. Mayhap you were turning about, but methinks you'd have to be going hella fast to bury yourself that far in."

The mishmash of accents and colloquialisms was making Hope's head spin. "Where are you from, Mr. Harris?"

"Call me Ash, and I'm from pretty much everywhere."

"A real man of the world?" Despite his reassurances, Hope kept her hand tight around the stock of the pistol.

"Yah, totally." He leaned down and reached for something low on the side of his bike.

Hope's pistol came around and she found herself holding it on him with so much pressure against the trigger that she couldn't believe the gun didn't fire. "Easy," she said, voice quavering.

"It's just a bottle of water," said Ash. "Been a thirsty ride. You mind?" He held up a dirty plastic bottle with a peeling blue label.

Hope lowered the gun but didn't tuck it back into her waistband. Ash unscrewed the plastic cap and took a couple swallows. Hope licked her lips with a tongue that had turned dry at the mere mention of water. Ash sipped again and raised an eyebrow at Hope. "Thirsty?"

"Y-yes," she said.

"I've got another full bottle in my pack. You're welcome to it if you want."

Hope would have screamed "yes," had she not become suspicious after Gabe's death. She raised the gun once more. "Take it out. Slowly. No funny stuff."

Ash smiled. "I ain't fixin' to cause trouble. I'm just a gentleman who intends verily to offer aid to a fellow traveler." He put down the bike's kickstand and swung his leg over the fuel tank.

A black case the size of Hope's thigh clattered to the pavement, a dark shadow against the inky ribbon of the pavement. "What's that?"

"It's a ukulele."

"What is that, some kind of gun or something?"

Ash laughed. "Hardly."

"It's like a tiny guitar, Li'l lady," said Undead Elvis. "I played one in Blue Hawaii. Lovely little instrument."

Hope felt her ears grow hot. "How about that water?"

Ash pulled a bottle from a side pocket of his pack. "I realize you've got me at quite a disadvantage here, me unarmed and you wavin' that gat around, but it'd do my heart right well if you had any food you could share."

"Just apples," said Hope.

"I love apples." Even in the gathering dawn, Hope saw Ash's eyes grow a little cloudy. "Haven't had one since I don't know when."

"Elvis, get him an apple, and get me that water."

Undead Elvis shrugged and took an apple from the cab of The Way. He handed it to Ash. His fingers brushed the ukulele case as he picked up the water bottle.

"If you want to play it, go ahead," said Ash.

Undead Elvis opened the clasp on the case and lifted out a battered miniature guitar.

"Elvis, I'm thirsty!" Hope felt like they were taking her and her weapon for granted.

"Put up the gun, Li'l lady. There's no man alive with a ukulele who'd harm a soul." Undead Elvis handed Hope the water bottle. She debated with herself before tucking the gun away and pouring some of the water down her parched throat. She didn't care that it was warm, only that it was wet.

The sky grew lighter, and she could make out more details on Ash's face. He looked much older than his demeanor suggested. His wrinkles were more like crags and his careworn eyes seemed like they'd seen everything at least once. His expression was guarded and solemn as he ate the apple. "Where did you find apples?"

"There was a garden or oasis or something back that way. I think it might be gone now, though."

Hope waved toward the broken bridge.

"Perhaps I'll see if I can find it. It sounds like a nice place to rest."

Undead Elvis checked the tuning on the ukulele and began to play a cheerful little tune, humming along in his rich baritone.

A bleating sound made Hope whirl, afraid one of those black birds might have found them. Instead, some animal the size of a dog blundered down a sand pile toward them, a gray shadow in the early morning light.

Hope pulled out her pistol again. "What the hell is that?"

The animal made the bleating noise again. It sounded like a baby's cry.

"It's a sheep," said Undead Elvis.

"A lamb," said Ash. "Sheep are larger."

"Okay, so what's it doing here?"

"Being our brekky, if you'll pull that trigger, Miss." Ash tossed aside a small hunk of apple core.

"Shoot it? But… I never…" Hope stopped when she realized she had; she'd shot the man who'd killed Gabe.

"Apples are nice, but a nice hunk of protein, nicely seasoned… Don't that sound good?"

Hope's belly gurgled. Her pregnant body agreed with Ash's sentiment. She needed protein for her baby-to-be. "Okay." She raised the gun, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled the trigger.

Something blocked her from firing the pistol. She opened her eyes and saw Undead Elvis standing with his finger interposed between the hammer and firing pin. "Not like that, Li'l lady. Respect your target enough to look at him in his final moments."

"How are we even going to cook it?" Hope's stomach was turning somersaults in anticipation of a substantial meal.

"I've got a little propane grill in a saddlebag," said Ash. "As I said, I've been traveling a long time, and the durn thing come in handy a lot. Know what I'm' sayin'? Also got salt… pepper…"

Hope squeezed the trigger. The gun's deafening report echoed through the canyon for what seemed like eternity.

The lamb fell over and its blood made a dark stain on the lightening road. Ash took a large knife from a saddlebag. Hope couldn't watch while he and Undead Elvis butchered the animal. She went and sat in The Way to watch the sun rise. She wondered if it was rising on the other side of the bridge too, or if it still hadn't moved from overhead. Did that mean there were two suns? Or two Earths and they'd crossed a bridge between them? The idea made Hope's head hurt. All she knew was that the world had broken, and her child was destined to fix it somehow. She realized with a start that she'd been rubbing her belly with a gentle soothing motion. It comforted her.

The sizzle of cooking meat drifted past The Way and saliva flooded Hope's mouth so hard she had to spit to keep from choking on it. She climbed out of The Way and went over to the grill that was producing such a delicious odor.

Ash and Elvis had tossed the offal into the sand and buried it out of consideration for her. It was easier for her to look at the skinned and cut apart lamb, because she could think of it as something from a grocery store meat counter.

Except… Ash held a bloody lump out to her. She recoiled. "Jesus, Ash!"

He looked pained. "It's the heart. You killed the beast, it's your right."

Creeping horror threatened to overwhelm Hope. "To eat?!"

"Yes."

Her gorge rose, but she had nothing to vomit except bitter bile, which she spat to one side. "Ugh. Get rid of it. Please."

"Mind if I burn it?"

"Anything, just so I don't have to see it any longer."

Ash used the blade of his knife to lift the edge of the grill upon which sizzled lamb steaks and dropped the heart down into the flames. It hissed and smoked, adding a strange but satisfying scent to the air.

Hope watched the smoke swirl up into the sky, now more blue than black. She could see the orange of clouds along the eastern horizon. "What's it like east of here, Ash? Does this desert run on forever?"

He speared a steak with his knife, set it on a camp plate, and passed it to her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heady, complex smell of the grilled lamb.

"There's forest further to the east. Food and water in it."

"People?"

Ash loaded a plate with meat and offered it to Undead Elvis, who declined. "I'm fine, friend."

"Where are y'all headed?" Ash took a bite of meat and fanned at his mouth from the heat.

Hope wasn't going to answer, but Undead Elvis said, "Graceland."

"Graceland… Yes, I can see why you'd want to go there. That's a long journey on a road fraught with peril. If you survive the gauntlet, you'll find peace and safety there."

"Gauntlet?" Hope looked down at her plate and realized she'd already eaten her steak. It had been so delicious she couldn't stop until forced to by an empty plate. Ash served her another portion.

"Not everyone on the road is as rational or contrite as I."

"Contrite? What do you have to be sorry for?"

Ash smiled. "For hurtful words spoken out of spite. Someday perhaps I will be forgiven for them."

"They must have been pretty bad words."

"They were."

Hope touched her tummy. "Maybe my baby will forgive you."

"Baby?" Ash raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. So this guy we met back to the west, he might have been an angel. He said I'm pregnant and my baby will fix this broken world. Crazy shit, right? The Virgin Stripper, that's me."

Ash set down his plate, eyes wide as hubcaps. "A virgin birth? A miracle?"

"Hey, I didn't ask for this. I'm no saint."

New life seemed to radiate from Ash. Maybe he was a pious man, thought Hope.

"Listen, friend," said Undead Elvis. "Before you go, would you help us get the car out of the ditch?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" Ash jumped to his feet with the spry moves of a much younger man.

Despite full bellies and greasy fingers, the three of them set about freeing The Way from its sandy entrapment. Hope sat behind the wheel and worked the clutch at Undead Elvis's direction, while he and Ash bent their shoulders to the fenders. After several minutes of grunting and swearing, wheelspin and flying sand, The Way found enough traction for Hope to steer it back onto the pavement once more. Now that the sun had risen, she could see all the new damage the hardy car had sustained in the jump and rough landing. Nevertheless, the engine still pulled strong, and the car itself seemed eager to get underway.

"Thanks, Ash," said Hope. "You saved us."

Ash shook his head and grinned. "Not like you've saved me, Hope. Please, let me give you a few things to repay you."

"I can't take a gift from you. You're going to need whatever you've got."

"No, I'm not." Ash's eyes shone in the sun. "You've given me hope. The first I've felt in more years than I can count." And with that, he pulled treasures from his saddlebags and handed them to Hope. "Take it. Please, take it all." He passed along his camp stove, plate and cup, and the large knife he'd used to butcher the lamb. Salt and pepper shakers. A half-used roll of aluminum foil. A Bible.

"Please don't do this." Hope felt inexplicable sadness as he divested himself of his worldly goods. "You'll die."

Ash took her hand in a gentle grip. "I've been waiting to for so very long, Hope. Let me give you this gift before I go to find Paradise."

"You mean that oasis? I told you, it's probably gone."

Ash hopped onto his motorcycle. "Thank you both. You've brought joy to me. I'd forgotten what that felt like." He revved the bike's engine.

"Jesus, you really are going to try it. A hundred and five, Ash! You've got to go that fast! A hundred and five!" Hope screamed over the bike's racing motor.

Ash spun the rear wheel, laying rubber like a drag racer, and roared toward the bridge. He looked back once and smiled.

Hope clutched at Undead Elvis. "He's crazy. He's not going fast enough. What is he doing?"

Undead Elvis said nothing.

Ash flew off the bridge. As the motorcycle soared through the sky, he jumped off the saddle, legs together and arms outstretched in a crucifixion pose. He hung there for a moment as the bike smashed into the cliff wall, falling well short of the far end of the bridge.

Light flared, and Asher Harris was gone. A small white bird flapped its wings in his place and climbed until Hope could no longer see it.

She let Undead Elvis hold her as the last echoes of the crash died away. "Is everyone we meet going to die?"

"I don't know, Li'l lady."

"I hope he got what he wanted."

Undead Elvis didn't reply.