Benny Right Horn was swaying while listening to the song of the wind and enjoying it thoroughly. He’s decided to at least temporarily abandon his search for Tessa on the railroad and stay here, in a secret camp next to the cascading water at this particular cave mouth. Soon, gun in hand again, he will run into likewise EOT visitor Jackson Bloch, also looking for the grandchild of Herbert Gold. The meeting may not turn out as expected.
In fact, here he comes now from the direction of Wabe. Or is it Wabd? Rebl would know. She’ll reenter the picture soon as well.
In fact, there she is.
“I heard clanking.”
She didn’t find anything today! Her name was Guyd but she was so far away from being a *guide* it wasn’t funny. She must be more successful tonight. She would work overtime to do it. But which way to go?
She lazily decided Gyre/Crow, because that would give her 2 choices instead of 1 down the road. Er, tunnel. She was heading from Wabe, which may be the same as Wabd (which would explain the greenup yd (yellow down) eyes). We’ll see.
This was a labyrinth and that’s a fact.
She’d reached the tracks. She didn’t like the tracks because humans lived amongst them. She and humans didn’t quite get along. Because most of them had *dogs*. Dog Island should have been erased and destroyed while they had them all rounded up there, she feels. That was only 2 outside days ago. Perhaps there’s still time….
And she’d missed her exit to Gyre. Oh well. Straight across the tracks it was. *Surely* she wouldn’t get lost. Again. Waste another day.
Phew! That was close.
But that human smelt funny. Almost like he was a… No. Couldn’t be. Could it? Guyd again thinks of destruction/erasure. Should have gotten rid of them with the chance. Now they could be *anywhere*. *Anything* anywhere (apparently). But then, maybe she could turn into a human as well if needed. That would be handy. She’d have to check the status of new, magical powers with Rebl tomorrow. Hopefully with *good* news to relay. She so wanted to be a true guide some day like her. Stepping stones, she calmed himself. One slipping rock at a time.
She never can remember where this tunnel leads across the tracks. Oh well. Onward and upward!
He heard someone over the waves. “Aww, you got me, Baker Bloch. Remember Mabel? Your old Martian pal?” The voice faded, to be replaced by another. “And me? Tessa. We’re still in the cave! Find me, find me, find me…” the second voice echoed, as if in a, well, cave.
He was ready to step off Dog Island and come back to mainland.
Or at least the bigger, less isolated island in front of him currently.
Then he found *her* as well. The ex. She spoke without turning while dancing on a west facing patio. “You find *them* or I’ll find *you*. And you know what I’ll do to you when I do!” She faded as well. He was starting to sweat coldly.
A smoking gun dropped from the sky, barely missing him.
Still hot to the touch, he picked it up. He realized he would need this gun to get to the cave. A person would be in his way. And that person was…
They were in the room right next door, but had yet to run into Annie and Karl. Obviously, because Annie was more than ready to spill blood. Former husband Benny Right Horn was still standing, in other words. Must be something in the name Annie…
“Brother Benny,” Jer Left Horn called from within the laundry room. “Your underwear’s dry.”
“I think that’s the worst part of leaving the South for me, Jer my bro.” He stares at Bogart and Bergman on the screen. “No colored TV.”
“I hear ya.”
“I *love* black and white TV,” Cathy A. squeals downstairs at basically the same instant in time. “Reminds me of my childhood in…” She tails off here.
“In where, pumpkin spice? You mean…?”
Marcus Fox Smartville studies her sad face, so filled with joy just a moment before. Then he notices the rose.
Not the same hand, not the same color. Just with the insinuation of Crabwoo everything had changed.
“I’m remembering things,” she said.
“Anorexia?” he responds just a minute later. “What kind of name is *that*?”
“She goes by Annie.”
Blue Feather is close, that’s for sure.
It was a busier night at the Gregson Motel in Dharmaraksa. The well established establishment was about to get 2/3rds full. Brothers Jer Left Horn and Benny Right Horn were the first to arrive, coming from Horns of Hatton by Royal (Magic) Bus. They were followed quickly by Marcus Fox Smartville and new gal pal Cathy A., with last name to be determined. The vehicle this time? None other than Little Jimmy, the complete bastard of a car also recently owned by Keith B., Kevin A., and perhaps some others I’m not recalling right this instant. $70,000 lindens was the price this time. The bastardliness just keeps on building upon itself like some kind of warped lego concoction.
“You allow chickens, I’m assuming,” said Jer Left Horn to the hotel receptionist, unseen to his left here. “She’s house trained.” Bethulia was current playing hide and seek with Willard (receptionist) from behind his computer monitor, but he didn’t find this cute at all. Blame Southerners, he instead thought swearingly. I guess they’ll start coming in droves to this place after it’s all said and done.
Marcus and Cathy picked up whispered words from the horned brothers like, “Red Devil”, “father”, and “honor”. But there was no need for secrecy. History had shifted in and then turned out upon itself, like some kind of warped twister game. All was there to expose thanks to scrying, reality flipping black holes. Marcus recalls something about a jug, or, better, like a glove turned inside out, true nature revealed. Both left and right at once — in a warped way again. Red Devil.
“Alright that was GREAT guys! FanTAStic! That’s a WRAP for today! Good WORK!”