A Journey of Words

The Whaler’s Dues-2

“Last call!” Harry screamed.

“The magic words,” Willie muttered.

The drunks filed outside, leaving Willie and Big Riff alone with Harry, washing glasses behind the bar, and the girls backstage.

“C’mon. Drink up, let’s get outta here,” Big Riff said.

Willie finished his whiskey in one final swig and rose to his feet. He immediately swayed and collapsed, clipping the edge of the table with his head. The empty glasses rolled off the table and shattered when they struck the floor.

“Jesus, Willie,” Big Riff said, rushing around the table.

The backstage door opened, and two girls peeked out their heads. When Kelpie saw Willie on the floor, she darted toward them. Big Riff looked up, just as Harry reached Willie, and saw Kelpie—dressed in jeans, a red shirt, and sneakers—heading straight at them.

“Hey Willie, can you hear me?” Harry asked, tapping him repeatedly with the backside of his hand.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. I can hear you. What happened?” Willie asked, opening his eyes.

“You took a header,” Harry replied.

Willie rubbed his temple and sat up.

“Here, let me help you,” Kelpie said. She grabbed him underneath his armpit and pulled him to his feet. “You might want to get checked out. Make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I think it’ll be all right,” Willie replied, bowing his head.

Kelpie grabbed Willie’s hands and squeezed them. “You…should…get…checked…out,” she said sternly. Her voice was strangely low and commanding.

Big Riff took an immediate step backward. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and sent a shiver down his spine.

“C’mon, Willie. I’ll drive ya,” Harry said. “You okay to lock up?” he asked Kelpie.

“Sure thing, Harry. I got it.”

“Just give me second,” he told her.

After Harry had safely secured the day’s income in a lockbox, he slung Willie’s arm around his neck for support.

“Have a safe night, girls,” Kelpie called, as the rest of the dancers left the bar with Willy and Harry. “So here we are, Riff,” she added.

“Here we are, indeed.”

“Why have you been so cold to me lately?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kelpie.”

“Oh, sure you do. You barely look at me anymore when I’m working. Are you afraid I have cooties and they might be contagious?” She giggled and punched him in the arm.

“I just got a lot on my mind is all.”

“Who is she?”

“Why do you think it’s a woman?”

“C’mon, Riff. How long has it been since you’ve been with anyone?”

“I guess you could say it’s a woman.”

“Look at you. Riff all in love. It suits you.”

They exited the bar and Kelpie locked the front door. As they walked past a small parking lot adjacent to the building, Kelpie pointed to a vehicle. “Hey, look. Marty left his windows down.”

“I hate that guy,” Big Riff retorted.

“You don’t really hate him. You’re just jealous because, for your whole life, all you’ve ever wanted was to be the singer of a band. And Marty is the local rock star. It’s not your fault he voted against you joining Strange Avenues.”

“Wait. How did you…? Who told you that?”

“I know more about you than you know about yourself.” She peered into the car. “Marty left his mandolin in the backseat.”

“That friggin’ mandolin. I’d like to hit him over the head with it,” Big Riff said with a chuckle.

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Steal the mandolin.”

“No way, Kelpie. I might hate the guy, but I’m not a thief.”

“But it’ll make you feel good. You know, stick it to the man and all that jazz.”

“Who are you?” Big Riff asked, laughing.

“I’m serious. In fact, take it and leave a ransom note.”

“Now I know you’ve lost your marbles.”

“Tell him you’ll return the mandolin only if he lets you sing at one of their next shows.”

“You, my dear, are nucking futs.”

Kelpie was quiet just long enough for Big Riff to think she might drop the whole thing. Then she puckered her lips and scrunched her forehead.

“I…dare…you,” she said through clenched teeth, her tonal register almost demonic.

Big Riff involuntarily moved toward the car, tried to turn and call for help, but his mouth wouldn’t open, and his hand reached through the window. I’ve lost control of my body, he thought in a panic.

Kelpie stood, arms folded, grinning.

No. Don’t touch it. Don’t take it, he thought, willing himself as hard as he could, but it was futile. His fingers disobeyed his brain’s wishes, and he grasped the mandolin tightly.

“Good, good. Now pull it out, and you’re home free.”

Who was she? No, better yet, what was she?

“Don’t worry, Riff. No one’s watching.”

That seems to be the least of my worries right now. It might be better if I got caught; maybe this spell, or whatever, would be broken.

The mandolin was successfully freed from Marty-the-Rock-Star’s vehicle, and Big Riff regained control of his extremities and vocal cords again. “What the f—?”

“Shh!” She took a step toward him.

“Don’t touch me. Stay right there.”

“Shut up! Listen.”

Big Riff could hear sirens in the distance.

“They’re getting closer,” Kelpie said. “We gotta go.”

“How in the world—?”

Kelpie didn’t wait for him to finish. She grabbed his free hand and they raced toward the waterfront. Big Riff let the mandolin go in mid-stride, a loud clatter ricocheting off the surrounding buildings.

“Faster! They know you took it.”

“But I didn’t steal the damned thing,” Big Riff said shortwinded, trying to match Kelpie’s pace. “This is insane!”

“Just keep up.”

“Where’re we going?” Big Riff ’s legs felt every step, the muscles in his calves already burning.

“To the Rosa Lynn.”

“Who is Rosa Lynn?”

“She’s not a who. You’ll see.”

The sirens came closer; the blue lights bounced off the darkness in the distance. The marina was just ahead of them. Big Riff could see a whaleboat anchored at the pier, bobbing with the waves.

“That’s her,” Kelpie yelled, pointing to the long boat. “We gotta get to her before the deputies get to you or you’ll never have a fighting chance.”

“I’ve never seen such a thing like that before in my whole life!” Big Riff exclaimed.

“Don’t worry about it right now. Just get on board.”

“Kelpie, what the hell’s going on?” Big Riff almost couldn’t finish the sentence. His lungs burned; speaking while running was almost impossible.

“The Rosa Lynn is your only chance to pay your dues and fulfill your contrition.”

“Pay my dues? That’s it, Kelpie.” Big Riff stopped and placed his palms on his knees. “I’m not running anymore until you tell me what you’re talking about.”

Kelpie looked over Big Riff ’s head, and her eyes widened. “No time. We gotta go. They just turned the corner at Harry’s.”

Kelpie raced for the dock. Big Riff did his best to keep pace without fainting. Their footfalls on the wooden pier echoed across the water. Big Riff could see the silhouette of a man on the whaleboat, waving to them in encouragement to run faster.

“Just get on the boat,” Kelpie yelled and burst into a full sprint.

Big Riff reached the vessel, and the man grabbed his wrists to help him over the side of the boat.

“Who is it this time, Mary?” the man asked, as he pushed the throttle forward.

The Rosa Lynn’s engines whirred to life, and the boat propelled them from the dock.

“Sheriff’s lawmen. Two of them, I think,” Kelpie answered.

“At least it’s not the cattlemen of the Five Sisters of Kintail. I don’t ever want to go through a bloodbath like on Glen Shiel again.”

“Wait…Mary? That’s your name? And you went through what with who?”

“Let’s all calm down,” Kelpie said. “Yes, my name’s Mary. Now you know. This is my husband.”

Mary’s husband took one hand from the wheel and held it out for a shake. “Biggles.”

“Riff. But, by the sound of it, you already know that.”

“Drop me off at Rattlesnake Trail,” Mary said to her husband.

“Sure thing.”

Biggles steered the Rosa Lynn farther into the blackness of the open sea.

“I’ve lived here my whole life and have never heard of Rattlesnake Trail,” Big Riff stated.

“It’s right there,” Biggles said.

Big Riff squinted and saw the outline of an island through the mist. He looked back at the mainland as it faded from view. Nothing tonight had made any sense whatsoever.

A black cloud extinguished the stars and thunder clapped so loudly that Big Riff almost jumped off the whaleboat.

“Get me there, Biggles!” Mary screamed. “The bisect started early this time.”

“I know, Mary. I’m pushing her as hard as I can. I’ll get you to the island in time. I always do.”

The sky opened, and the rain fell in buckets. Big Riff wiped the water from his brow and looked at his hands. They were black. The precipitation falling from the clouds seemed to contain more mud than water.

Mary extended her hands to her husband. She was wet and brown. “It’s the dirty water, Biggles. Time’s up. You gotta—”

“I’ll get you there, Mary!” Biggles snapped.

Big Riff noticed little black specks running down her jeans. A chill breeze pushed the boat against the tide. Big Riff turned toward the mainland one last time; the glow of the suburban lights had already faded to black.

A sandbar a few yards from the island brought the Rosa Lynn to a halt. Without hesitation, Mary jumped overboard into the shallow waves.

“Go. Get out of here,” she called from the surrounding water. “Good luck, Riff.”

Within seconds, the darkness of Rattlesnake Trail swallowed Mary. Big Riff suddenly found himself alone with a complete stranger who had a funny sounding name, on a whaleboat he had never heard of before, in the middle of nowhere.

And it was only Monday.

The Rosa Lynn gently rocked back and forth from the small swells. A thin sliver of the moon was just barely visible above Rattlesnake Trail—now far behind them.

“Hungry?” Biggles asked, as he opened the top of a large container. “I have some cold stew.”

“No, I don’t want anything to eat. I want answers.”

“Suit yourself,” Biggles replied and scooped a spoonful into his mouth.

“Bring me back, right now.”

“Sorry, bub. No can do.”

“This is kidnapping. What you’re doing is illegal.”

“And so is stealing Marty’s mandolin. You can never go back.”

“What do you mean?” Big Riff asked, taking an aggressive step forward.

“There’s nothing for you to go back to. After the bisect happens, the fabric of your reality splits, and you’re on a new life path now.”

“What’re you talking about, you f*****g loon? What’s a bisect? What was all that dirty rain? Where the hell did Rattlesnake Trail come from? Why was Kelpie in such a panic to get off the boat—?”

“Calm down there, soldier. You’re gonna hurt yourself with all those questions.”

Biggles exaggerated every bite as he ate his stew, opening his mouth wide, and chomping the potato and beef loudly. The sound of the obnoxious chewing—like nails on a chalkboard—made Big Riff want to punch Biggles square in the nose.

“Don’t antagonize me,” Big Riff said sternly but relaxed his clenched fist.

Biggles dropped the bowl of stew, hitting the whaleboat’s deck with a clank! He pushed his finger into Big Riff ’s chest.

“Look, Riff. You think I want to be here with you again, always wondering if you’re the one who’ll replace me? You think I like saving your hide over and over, always at the last goddamn minute, like we’re in some Hollywood action flick? I don’t. And, to be honest, I’m getting pretty sick of this cycle.”

Big Riff slapped Biggles’s finger.

“Don’t ever touch me again.” After a glaring stare Big Riff finally asked, “And what’s with this over and over crap?”