Dixon was having that dream again about tubes…
… and tentacles…
… and roads upon roads upon roads to flee upon.
A true nightmare this was.
We pick up the treasure hunting trail of Dixon Too a little beyond where we last saw his brother Dixon One. Phillip’s ultra-thick stand of Linden trees protected Young Duncan from detection once more. Snowwhite’s not going to be happy.
Ignoring a couple of local yokels to his right, he checks out one of those primitive bamboo planes the Durexians use these days. “Bombed them back to the Stone Age we did,” he mutters proudly, again wondering how his life might have changed if he’d joined the Trojan air force instead of the army. “Well, not quite but good enough.”
He turns toward the gorilla and the caged man. “You hear that over there!” he called defiantly. “Close enough to do the job!” No answer.
He looked back at Highway 8 bending into the heart of Mountain Country. Better move on, he thinks. Put some distance between him and this backwards spot before darkness hits.
About 200 meters directly north, the actual treasure location remains unseen.
It seemed like the only form left for her. Back to the drawing board after this. She rehearsed the ending wedding in her head. Takes place on this very spot.
“Do you take Dixon for your newly minted husband, to honor and obey until derezzing do you part?”
“I now pronounce you cousin, er, *husband* and wife.” She pictures the crowd laughing with this little “mistake”, purposely inserted into the vows by Reverend Jimmy Buffee, a long time Snowwhite admirer and a bit jealous of the proceedings. Both Dixons were her cousins, true, but soon one would be more. And Aunt Emerald soon to be the mother-in-law, whichever. Maw.
“You may kiss the dazzling bride.”
Snowwhite kisses the air in front of her. Several fluttering birds, some yellow, some more mutely colored, look on. She imagines them, as a group, holding up the wedding dress train behind her as she walks north through the green meadow to these two central trees and her husband-to-be, with the even more central sakura weeping cherry just behind, almost as brilliant white as herself and about as tall.
Life is good in the centre of it all.
“It’s not that one, Dixon Too. Too low, you see. No snowy peak.”
“Stop calling me ‘Too.’ *You’re* the ‘Too'”
“How about just Dixon again,” he compromised. “We call each other Dixon from now on. We’ll deal with the One and Too when other people are around.”
“Agreed, er, Dixon. But… we’ve already done this. Our entire lives.”
“Agreed,” the other repeats.
“She says she’ll sleep with you. You have that to look forward to.”
“Maybe I don’t want to sleep with her,” the other countered, making his doppleganger laugh. The other then laughed with him.
“Good one, *’Too’*.”
Alone again, he surveys the world he comes from.
“What a load of crap.”
“I’m it, Dixon,” she pleads. “I’m the treasure.”
“Cut the crap, Snowwhite. I know the treasure is in the mountains. It says it right here on this map.” He pushes the map more across the table toward her. “Snowy peak and all. You *know*.”
“I don’t know, Dixon.” Tears begin to form in her eyes again.
“I’m leaving town. I’m going to find it.”
Dramatic pause. Tears are running down her cheeks now. “I’ll… I’ll sleep with the other Dixon who remains. You know I will.”
Dixon huffs. “My no good doppleganger, pheh.”
“The one who tracked down and captured Duncan Avocado…”
“I *know* what he did, Ms. Well.”
She sniffs, dries her eyes with the back of her hand. “He did a good thing.”
Dixon didn’t reply, looked out the window at the bright aspen leaves. Snowy peak. She *knows* goll darnit.