“The vila of Twin Peaks they called it from 1880 to 1920. One peak protected by God, the other ruled by Satan and his minions. Black and white of course. Er, white, black. No coincidence the *black* peak towers over this subsection centered by the pool; no coincidence eyeman Jacob built his Joint Joint here instead of elsewhere. This is the true Gaston history you’re looking for. Sugar houses and all. I like your new look, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Hitgal replied to Sangria.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Hittie. You seem anxious about something.”
“Oh I’m just staring at that flag… over there on the abandoned laudromat. Do you think it was there, say, yesterday?”
Sangria looked out the window as well. “Don’t know. Why don’t you have some wine instead of that soda pop; smooth your ruffles out.”
“I’m just thinking about… the Dark Days.”
“Oh don’t go back there. God’s here now sweetie. Watching over us all.”
“I’m telling you Officer Brenin. That door has an eye in it.”
“Where? Where?”
Domino glances over. “You’re looking too low, man. Get off your knees. Bend down.”
—–
“Oh yeah. I see it now. But what does it mean?”
“God. Eye of God, man. Looking out and in at once.”
“But the other side: backwards. Dark Days.”
“We’re here to stop all that nonsense,” declares the now upright Officer Brenin, knowing full well what he said was a lie.
Sunklands 