Jigsaw World

2 Claws in the Night-1

2 Claws in the Night

Susan turned on the living room lights and locked the front door. Tom scanned the room for anything interesting or dangerous and only saw the old lady in the rocking chair smoking in the corner. He started to turn around to ask Susan about her but decided to look back at her to see what sort of description he could use to ask about her. She wasn’t there anymore. Even the smell of her cigarette and the old mothball smell that seems to be the defining smell of all old ladies were barely detectable anymore.

Tom had a twinge of memory about seeing her rocking in the corner. He vaguely recalled that he had seen her before in other places, like some Archetype. She was always in a corner, always rocking, and if she weren't shelling peas or husking corn, she would be smoking. Take your eyes off her for an instant, and when you looked again, she would always be gone.

Susan collapsed onto the couch and started sobbing into her hands. Tom felt like he should do something to console her, but he couldn’t think of anything that would do that, without leading to enormous complications. When he left this place, he certainly didn’t want a sidekick (Bailey excluded), he didn’t want the complication of a drunken woman that used s*x for a consolation act, and he didn’t need any more drama in his life.

On the other hand, Nancy was gone, abducted by whatever controlled that craft and that light, and he really couldn’t blame her for falling apart with her daughter vanished like that. He was almost ready to engage in a consolation process that he would regret when Bailey went over and stuck his cold nose against her face between her cupped hands. She hugged him and increased the water-works.

After a little exploring, Tom located Susan’s stash of Canadian Mist and a baggy of m*******a with a book of papers inside. He carried these items to Susan, and she dislodged the dog from her embrace and rolled a joint. A few moments later, after she had offered Tom a toke or two, and been refused, she had smoked most of the joint and was half-way through the first glass of whiskey.

The next couple of hours found Susan slumped in a drunken snooze on the couch, calmer than Tom had ever seen her. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, tucked her in and closed the door. For the first time in days, he was in quiet surroundings by himself and could think about what he wanted to do next.

One thought that kept popping up was that he was tired of the desert. It was time to go somewhere with trees and rain. Having a bit of ocean nearby would not be such a bad thing, either. After he got some sleep and said his goodbyes to Susan, he would be on his way with Bailey in tow. Maybe he would leave tonight if it was quiet. More likely it would be tomorrow morning, though.

Tom made a bed on the couch, using a pillow and blanket he found lying on an easy chair in the bedroom. He stretched out on his bed, and Bailey hopped up and stretched out beside him. Ten minutes saw them snoring in unison.

*****

* * * *

HE IS WALKING DOWN a dirt path under trees in what seems to be a nice spring twilight, or what the old Celts used to call the gloaming. He is drinking a peppermint tea as he strolls along, and Bailey is walking beside him. Up ahead, he sees a very tall, thin man, wearing a wide-brimmed and tall hat, and wearing a long coat that is in no style with which Tom was familiar. Tom could not make out his face, but the tall man is busy blowing darts at a tree full of monkeys from the blowgun that he was holding. As Tom watches, the man blows a half-dozen darts toward their targets, and three times, a small monkey tumbles out of the tree. Each time, the Tall Man would pick the monkey up and place him in a small cloth sack.

The Tall Man stops and looks at Tom, and Tom could see that the man had no face; under the shadow of the hat’s brim was more shadow, which served as the Tall Man’s face. He gestures Tom over.

“If ye be goin down this trail, ye be needing these token,” The Tall Man said. He reaches into his pocket and produces a mercury dime with a bit of feather glued to it, and the dried up body of a medium-sized earthworm. He hands these ‘tokens’ to Tom and picks up his sack of monkeys. Whistling a jaunty tune, he starts off down the forbidden path.

*****