Kiss Me, Curse Me

The shack was set back behind some trees, not obvious to those not looking—a place to be forgotten. Ahanu watched for any sign of life noting the red, slimy pile to the side, flies abuzz, the bloodied guts from something. Bones of all sizes hung from the porch beams; an odd bird skull and some other animal skulls he didn’t recognize gazed at him with their hollow orbs.

“Swell,” Ahanu whispered.

“Swell,” came the voice behind him.

He turned swiftly, seeing nothing. He turned back and saw him on the porch steps now. The man’s face was awash in red with one white streak off center; his gown was blacker than any night; and his wiry white hair ran down to the ground. He was thin, too thin to even be alive. Ahanu backed up, fighting a calling that pulled him forward. The man didn’t move, didn’t blink. With an outstretched hand, Ahanu held up the package wrapped in brown paper, tied up in twine. The man cocked his head to the side and pointed to the porch floor. Obliging with obvious trepidation, Ahanu came forward and put the package on the ground before the porch steps. The man shook his head and pointed harshly at the porch. Ahanu picked it up and stood before the man, heart in mouth.

“Be still,” the man said, though his lips did not move. “Kneel.”

Ahanu, uncertain, did so, and the man pulled him by his ponytail and dragged him inside with an unbending strength.

“Let go of me,” he cried out, panicked. “What are you doing?” Ahanu grasped at the floor, grasped at dust. It was too dark to see anything; there were only smells, fresh blood mostly. “I did what she asked, now let me go. I’m not here for trouble.”

“Quiet,” came the voice.

They went down just then, down below somewhere. His body bumped painfully on the stone, cold steps. A door opened, and he was pulled into a cold, cylindrical room—no corners, like a tomb. His arms and legs were quickly chained, and he lay there in the middle of the room, looking up at some dimly lit markings on the ceiling—a picture of a yellow python. He listened as he heard Kanti scuffle to and fro, starting and poking at some crackling fire, with something coming to a bubble above it, the steam eased through the air, bringing up the temperature to a more bearable level.

“What do you want with me?” He got no response, only heard Kanti unwrap the package that he had delivered. Its contents were added to the brew and briskly stirred causing a loud fizz.

“In dreams, we see,” Kanti said finally.

Ahanu lay in wait for something that he knew was coming but not what exactly—something horrible surely. He could feel it in his chest; he could feel that ache building inside of him, like the evil seed in him always knew, like it had always been there. He had felt it as a boy that day he saw Kanti for the first time in the woods. The man had looked at him and pointed at his heart and placed the seed there as if he knew that they would one day both meet.

The brew was ready, and the python skull was dipped into the mixture.

“No. You can’t do this do me. I didn’t ask for this.”

“Oh, but you did,” he taunted. “You did. Your soul spoke to me. It called to me . . . you, son of the woods.”

“I am no son of the woods.”

“But you are. You are my son. You always were, you always have been, and you always will be. I named you so. ‘He Laughs’—Ahanu—that is the meaning of your name. I laughed the day you were born ‘fore I knew you’d be mine, and here you are my son, my only son. Now drink.”

“You’re not my father. You can’t be my father.” Ahanu shook his head back and forth, fighting with all his being.

“Be still, my son.” Kanti waved a hand over him, and the boy relaxed. “In dreams, we shall speak.”

And there it was. Ahanu drank—the son of a Shaman.





“Ahanu? I don’t know that name.” Patty scratched his sweaty head.

“I hadn’t seen him before either.” Ed took a seat with Patty across from him in the gloomy chair.

“What do you know?”

“He’s involved with her.”

“What?” Patty profusely shook his head. “That can’t be; she’s with Hank.”

“Look . . . I don’t know what she said or when, or what she was up to, but I know this to be true.”

“How?”

“I saw them together,” said Ed, the con he was.

“When?”

Ed paused, trying to come up with something decent, “Ah, yes. After that fair. I saw them.”

“After the fair, but she went missing during the fair.”

“It was later, later that night. I was outside the back of D Street. I saw them off a ways.”

“How do you know his name, if you’ve never seen him before?”

Ed paused in thought. “I heard her say it. She’s a blonde little thing, she is. They were together, leaving.”

Patty held his clenched fist up, “Hey now. This tale doesn’t make any sense. You grifting me? What’s your name again?” Patty gave him a tough look. He was a small man but wasn’t afraid of anyone.

“Ed. I’m Ed. Trust me on this. Go find that kid. He’ll tell you. He knows what happened to her that night. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, Ed, your story doesn’t quite match up with what I know to be the timing of the events that took place. My daughter was no cheater if that’s what you’re implying. I don’t take too kindly to strangers throwing about lies.”

Ed stood pointing a finger down at Patty. “I’m no liar. You should be careful where you throw your words. I could have easily just not said anything about this.”

Patty stood up. “Fine. We’ll look into your story. This story of yours—that my daughter was seeing another . . . well, she wouldn’t do something like that, especially with no Indian.”

Ed shrugged and turned to leave. The secretary kept her face down.

“Wait, stop. Where do I reach you?”

“I’m around,” said Ed.

“Do you know how many dam workers there are around here?”

“I do.”

“You need to give me more than that. This is soon going to be a murder investigation. How do we know it wasn’t you and this is your story, make someone else take the heat?”

Ed stopped in the old doorway and leaned his hand on the wilted, white paint, “I have an alibi. I’m not concerned at all about that. You just find that kid.”

That kid. It struck Patty odd the tone he used, the emphasis on it. There was more going on. He stood at the door to the station and watched Ed walk off toward the only road that led to the dam and away from town.

“Oh, I’m watching you, Ed,” he vowed.



***



There were shades of green all around moving in and out like water. Was he floating or was he standing without the feeling of his legs? He just was. It was that simple. Ahanu was there in that space—the colors shifting from green to blue with a brighter blue sifting through. The python twisted in yellow and white, sliding closer and closer to him with stars popping against the background as if they had just been born ablaze.

“Take him,” the voice said.

The pink-forked tongue flicked in and out to taste the ether and the subject. It opened its mouth wide and took the stance to strike. Ahanu moved arms that did not exist, and realizing his new form, his soul form, he froze. The freedom of it was shocking. The snake bit down, bit hard, splitting him in two. Ahanu watched as his darker lower half floated away. His upper body, his mind was lost in that space with the python.

“You must learn,” the voice said. “You must learn to be one.”

Ahanu felt it all slipping away, felt himself digress into some lower form of being, his organized thoughts becoming nothing but chaos and disorder, his memories spreading out into the spirit world where eyes began to watch, some dark, some light, hands reaching out to take this and that—things that had once belonged to this boy, some human, a remnant of the physical world.

Slowly the oneness became, and he merged into it all, into everything, every star and every molecule that ever was or ever was going to be.

“Psssssss.”

A click and Ahanu woke; the python wavered above him. “My son, you are one. You are whole with all.”

Ahanu felt sleepy, felt weak.

“Rest now my son, for soon you go back.”

Ahanu closed his eyes, wishing he was home with his mother.



***



“He’s dead.”

Patty lifted his weary head to look at the sheriff who’d just spoken those words. He’d sat for most of the day listening to the steady pace of the typewriter.

“Who?”

“Doug.” Doby’s face was somber. “I just heard. He didn’t make it.”

“Awww.” Patty couldn’t look up. He couldn’t speak. He felt ill, regretting some of his harsh words the day before with the young kid.

“I’m sorry. I know he was best friends with Hank.”

“Ah, Hank. I’ll tell him, okay?”

“He knows. He was there when we heard. A dam guy came out and found us while we were searching. Hank didn’t take it well, went home. We didn’t find much else in the search either. It’s official: murder investigation. Come on. You look like shit,” said Doby.

The sheriff drove at the pace he always did, like there was a crisis, except they were only hitting the diner. In they went. A small place, it was always packed and loud, the walls of sky blue, same as the tables, with a silver lining spread throughout and the booths in a lovely turquoise.

“We want coffee first.” Doby said to the old waitress, who scooted off in her little blue and white get-up.

“Ahanu. You heard of him?” said Patty, admiring the burger list pushing away the word murder.

“No. Why?”

Patty filled him in on Ed and the story, and the waitress came back with fresh, steamy coffee and took their orders.

“Odd, isn’t it?” said Doby.

“I don’t believe him. Do you know the guy?”

“Ed . . . I think it’s Ed Turner. He’s been in trouble a few times, nothing too serious, nothing to toss him in for. He’s not from these parts, east somewhere, Colorado if I remember right. One night he knocked a guy out, fighting over money or something. Oh . . . gambling—that’s what it was. I’ve to turn a blind eye you see, but I know what’s going on.”

“You don’t do anything? Why? I mean. What’s your angle?”

“They’ve got to have something to do. That dam money. Who cares?”

“I don’t gamble.”

“You shouldn’t, it’s addictive, seen a few go down from it,” said Doby, taking a bite of the big burger that just landed on the table.

Patty let out a grin.

“What? What you been up to? I’ve known you too long.”

“Pfffff. Nothing.”

Doby stared out the uneven window chewing on the meat, then winked. “I don’t know this Ahanu you speak of, doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. They keep to themselves, you know.”

“She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.”

Doby said nothing, thinking a bit, “We can go out to the reservation here after we eat. It’s never too late to barge in. Don’t you think?”

Patty smiled, “Yeah.”

They downed their food and with bellies full took the long road out.



***



“She’s holding on, needs fluid in her. I can put a tube in her nose to her stomach.”

“Oh, do I have to watch?” Betty grimaced as Doc opened up his bag.

“I don’t have anything on hand for an IV. I’d need to go into the city for that. I’ve been unable to procure that new medicine,” said the old man.

“Maybe the dam clinic has some. It’s closer.”

“Yes, that is true. Didn’t think of that. I’ll go on down there.”

Coreen’s arm fell from the bed. They both jumped.

“Did she just move?” Betty said surprised.

“No, I don’t think so, she’s in a coma. She can’t move.”

“Just get the IV stuff, find that medicine. I mean how urgent is this?”

“She’ll last a bit longer. I don’t know. We need that med, that’s what we really need. Maybe they have some. I don’t know.”

“Well, try, I guess.” Betty went to the door and hollered for another one of her girls to come up. “Singapore!” Betty explained the sitting routine, the cloth routine, and went on her way to see the doctor to the bottom of the stairs.

“Tell my Ed if you see him down there working, I want him up here tonight.”

“I won’t see him. Have you been down there—to the dam?”

“No, never. I’m here. I don’t follow the customers out into the real world; avoid that place just like God does.”

“Oh Lord,” scoffed Doc.

“You said it. Not me.”

“Betty, Betty, come back here,” Singapore called rushing out from Betty’s bedroom.

“In a minute,” she said.

“No, you come now. I can’t deal with this.” Singapore started screaming in her native Chinese, as a heavy thud sounded out from behind her.

“Oh my God.” Betty ran up the stairs with the old doctor close behind.

Coreen dressed only in skin-colored undergarments was on the floor convulsing.

“Clear the way, get that chair out of the way, move the bed. Hurry,” Doc cried.

Betty and Singapore ran around, frantically clearing the space as Coreen flailed.

The doctor was swift, drawing up some liquid into a syringe. “Hold her for me; hold her arm. . . Betty, get over here.” Betty was startled by the scene, didn’t understand what the hell was going on. “Just do it,” he said.

The liquid was injected, Coreen’s movements slowed.

“She’s fully septic. We need help,” he said.

They lifted her back into the bed and tucked her in. “I’ll hurry okay. They’re going to ask questions for the stuff I need. I don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“You can’t tell them she’s here. You can’t.”

“She may do better if we can get her to the city.”

“We can’t do that.” Betty was firm.

“She’ll die then.”

“Dammit, Doc. I know you’ve got it in you. Just do what you can. We’re stuck here with her.”

He shook his head and scrambled off.

“I don’t know why I even bother,” said Betty, lifting Coreen back into her bed.



***