A Long Ride Page 9

  “Accomplished liar, you mean,” Shocker pooh-poohed me.

  “Great subject,” I argued.

  “Con artist.”

  “Great. Subject.”

  “Scammer.”

  “GreatsubjectgreatsubjectgreatsubjectGREATSUBJECT!”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  We grinned hugely at each other.

  “Children, please.” Blondie flipped her hair primly, then muttered, “I need a doob.”

  I leapt away from the group, landed, flicked my right boot over my left and scissored my legs, executing a tight, fast spin. “Stop! Doobie time.” The notion of seeing and smelling our little paradise of herb and fungus always made me feel like dancing. Antsy as a chubby kid listening to the ice cream man approach, I moonwalked to the corner until I hit the black mat. Squatted down and plucked it up with a flourish, rolled it over, revealing the steel bunker door underneath. Next to it in a small relief was a combination key pad and T-handle. I turned my back to everyone and entered the code: UNLAWFUL.

  “Awful and unlawful we are,” I said in my Yoda voice. “Criminal Jedi.”

  Turning the T-handle had two jobs: unlocking the door and triggering a relay for the lights. The weather seal hissed slightly as the cool dry air of the building mixed with the warm humidity in the basement, energy saving LEDs illuminating the seven foot shaft and steel ladder. Without an invitation or so much as a glance at anyone I jumped into the hole with arms stretched over my head, foregoing the ladder completely.

  “Weeee!” my giddy, dumb ass said during the drop.

  My injured calf was not in agreement with the landing. The nerves voiced a searing curse that radiated up the back of my leg for several very long seconds. Fortunately, Ace's compression legging absorbed some of the impact.

  That, my subconscious said with a phantom grimace, was REALLY dumb.

  I rubbed my leg, holding my breath. “Yep,” I gasped.

  I watched Blondie's legs and crotch as she climbed down, her curves and crevices renewing the elation, dampening the pain. Still rubbing my calf I told her, “The sight of you is narcotic.”

  She dusted off hands that had no dust on them. Looked at my leg and sighed, Idiot, though my compliment put a pleased shine in her eyes.

  The others climbed down and followed us into the twenty foot circular room of unlawfulness.

  “So this is where the legendary Fairy Dust comes from,” Big Guns said in accusation. “Fairy Dust” is what Blondie's exclusive, extremely fortunate clientele called her weed. He grunted. “Du ma, you bubble gum pop trailer trash princess. You suck.” His eyes and teeth dazzled with mock hurt. He took his phone out. “I'm unfriending you.”

  “Shut up.” She tagged his meaty shoulder with a stiff jab, smiling at his grunt. “Lon. You need to stop watching romantic comedies with Trinh. You've become as sensitive as a sitcom homo.”

  His mouth twisted around as if he were struggling to swallow something unpleasant, holding back an outburst that would only strengthen her roast.

  “Ha!” I pointed and laughed. “Thespian lon.”

  “Razor…” he growled in warning. Everyone smiling at him wasn't helping. I knew how he felt. Blondie did that to me in front of people all the time. Never get used to it.

  It's that magazine's fault, I thought. Damn Psychology Today.

  With a rare show of sympathy I dropped the banter. “Sorry. I'm sober.” I grinned at the room. “But not for long. Check out the setup.”

  Gray concrete absorbed the dim shaded grow lights hovering over head-high plants of marijuana, each potted inside its own glass incubator on black stools. Hoses and wires ran up the stool legs, irrigation and day/night hardware that allowed the operation to run nearly autonomously.

  As their mystified minds took it all in a small pump on the floor hummed to life. A light mist began to fog the glass of the two dozen incubators, softly glowing clouds enveloping the leafy budding plants, wet tickling caresses. Yummy. I shivered in delight. Goosebumps zinged up my arms, chest and face. I stepped out a simple jazz dance, rolling my fists, a youngster in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

  The pump clicked off. Everyone stood transfixed, the only sound a soft moan from the ventilation system, sophisticated filtration of the moist, pungent air. I became aware of Blondie studying the plants, taking deep, satisfied, boobies-poking-out breaths. Her pride in her work and her intent to sample the fruit was stronger than mine.

  “Whoa. Is that set to Rainforest, or what?” Ace asked, squinting a smile, walking down a row of misty incubators.

  Blondie followed him. “Fairy Forest,” she replied.

  “Boss, you like mushrooms.” Bobby's basso swelled the room with good nature. He suggested, “Chop up one of those little devils to eat with your steak.”

  “Pfff,” she responded.

  Her and Bobby had walked to the end of the incubators and stood looking at two enormous aquariums mounted on the back wall. The one hundred gallon tanks were lined with several inches of cow manure, dark with moisture, warm, capped with humidifiers and heaters for ideal fungi growing conditions. Shocker wagged her ponytail. “Where's the caterpillar smoking the water bong?” She wanted to know.

  “Take one of those and find out,” I told her, stepping over to a desk and grabbing a bottle of pills. Poured a few in my palm. The purple gel caps were filled with concentrated psilocybin, the active ingredient in “magic” mushrooms. I cultivate and process it for occasional recreation use, though my primary purpose was actually a research project. There are a lot of other uses for the stuff, real science that is interesting and helpful. Plus, I get really bored and feel like playing with drugs. I told the girl-beast, “These will help your temper.” As smoothly, innocently, as I could I added, “Maybe permanently.”

  She wasn't going for it. Hands on hips, she eyed me skeptically and said, “Pass.” She turned back to the tanks, mushrooms sprouting out of moo turds, and twisted her jaw, grossed out. “They're slimy. Ew.”

  “I thought you were full of it. Du ma.” Big Guns laughed. He looked at the pills in my hand. “You really made shroom pills. Have you convinced anyone cooking their mind with false reality will solve all their problems?” Grunt. “I'll say it again: I think you just like fucking with people.”

  I smirked, Maybe. Looked at the tanks. The dung had brown nippled pale caps, large and small, sticking up in all directions from slim stems with delicate purple skirts. Thick mucus shined on the tips of my fungal flora. I felt a slight irritation at not being taken seriously, and looked at my Viet counterpart with affected patience. “Personality shifts tend to be slow and gradual. A person can go to therapy for years and never achieve the change they seek. A single dose of psilocybin can do it in twelve hours, and make a long-lasting or even permanent change in a person's sense of wellbeing and life satisfaction. People become more creative and in touch with reality because they are humbled by nature's immensity during the trip.”

  Ace fidgeted to add something. I nodded, Go ahead, and he let out a breath. Said, “Steve Jobs credits his LSD experiences as the most profound and creativity-enhancing of his life. If not for psychedelic drugs, we wouldn't have iPhones, iPods, or iPads.”

  “Really?” Shocker had a hand on her pocket, squeezing her iPhone. She looked less disgusted, though reluctantly so.

  Ace squinted in recollection. “When I first read that I wanted to try it, see what ideas followed.” He looked down and half mumbled, “But in those days I was so wired-in I couldn't stand to leave my screen, much less actually leave the apartment to hunt drugs.”

  Blondie put a hand to her mouth, laughing at him. She could certainly relate. I can recall many times when she got strung out on hacking adventures and I had to play Dr. Phil to talk her away from the laptop. I recall eating a few punches, too.

  I stuck a handful of pills in my pocket, set the bottle down and said, “Psychedelics can induce a positive personality change instantly. There's never be
en anything else that can do that.”

  “That is dramatic,” Anh Long said with one thick brow lifted, his earlier impatience gone; he had warmed to our unique science projects. He grinned with hooded eyes and said, “I took mushrooms in Vietnam as a young man. There were eccentric groups of monks that used them for spiritual journeys, and of course we young villagers just had to try it. I remember a gathering where everyone was so happy and carefree. It confused and angered me. What was there to celebrate? I was so focused on the mundane details and the endless suffering that I couldn't understand. Then later that evening I went with a group to some temple ruins that were a thousand years old. We drank some awful tea.” He smiled at the memory.

  Blondie, Big Guns, and myself - the only other people present who have experienced that awful taste - laughed and encouraged him to go on.

  “After the tea took effect, those ancient ruins became another reality. It was reality shattering. The temples and stone courtyards where men lived, prayed and fought for their lives were windows to another world. I recall thinking very clearly: I am a speck of dust in time. That place was a thousand years old, the people and their problems long gone, and no one remembers them or cares. Their struggles were insignificant in the big picture, and so are mine. It was ego loss. I wasn't a proud young Vietnamese fisherman trying to make a life. The hallucinations made me see there is something that is me that has nothing to do with that and is far, far more important.” Another nostalgic smile. “And far more significant.”

  “Deep,” Bobby said. He studied the mushrooms. “So I could get my spirit on and maybe hallucinate something I'd want to paint later.” Scratched his head. “What else do they do?”

  “Most drugs only work while you take them,” I informed my potential research subject. “Psychedelics clear the body within hours, but the effects can last a lifetime. I think current research will lead to treatments for depression.”

  “We could use that in Mississippi,” Anh Long said a tad woefully. “Everyone is obese and depressed about it.”

  “Is it like Prozac?” Shocker queried.

  Smiling at the thought of the entire state on my pills, I explained to her, “Better. People who get into depressive thinking have over-connected brains. Regret and self-criticism creates repetitive background chatter. Psilocybin dampens the circuits to the sense of self.”

  “Ego loss,” Anh Long said with a nod.

  “Right. That allows people to escape from being tethered to that particular thinking process.”

  “Psilocybin mimics serotonin, the brain chemical responsible for regulating mood,” Ace said. The added to himself, “Most antidepressants target serotonin…fascinating.”

  “Lacking feelings of love or connectedness with your wife?” I asked Big Swoll with a stupid grin. “It recalibrates how people experience consciousness. After a trip people commonly resolve to be more in the moment. You will appreciate your woman far more.”

  Blondie laughed supportively. Rubbed my arm and said to them, “Fucker even helps with the laundry after a trip.” She gestured after everyone laughed. “But unfortunately that's not a permanent change to his personality.”

  My hands decided it was a good time to twist some pubbies. I stepped behind her, pulled her tightly to me and pinched the front of her dress and the blonde sunflowers underneath. Turned them sharply, then let go, all too quickly for anyone to have noticed.

  She gasped and squirmed, cut her eyes reprovingly as she broke loose and shoved me away. She glared, Not in front of company!

  But she likes it, I knew with confidence.

  Feeling like I had been exposed to the drug I was promoting, I turned back to Bobby with a question on my face.

  “Uh…” he hedged.

  “Pass,” Shocker told him sternly.

  Quick glance at her. He sighed, “Pass.”

  Blondie rolled her eyes, Whatev'. She took the bottle of pills and offered it to Anh Long. He grinned and helped himself, poured out a few and pocketed them.

  I wonder if he'll agree to carry a camcorder during his adventure…

  “Cac.” Big Guns swore while looking at his phone. “No reception down here. I have to go up.” Silver trepidation emitted between his lips. “I'm surprised Gat hasn't come to see why I'm not answering reports.”

  Anh Long turned to follow his Em Hung up the ladder. “We'll be at the coffee bar.”

  “We'll come with you guys.” Shocker looked relieved to have a reason to leave our garden of evil. She took her man's arm and pulled him after her, his face burning with unfinished intellectual stimulation. He turned away from the shroom tanks and incubators with a sigh, followed his stern-faced wife.

  Blondie clearly wanted to continue her hosting role, but also wanted to grab some Fairy Dust. She began to dart to the desk but I waved for her to stop. “I'll get the Dust. You handle the social intercourse.”

  Smiling, Thanks, she rushed after our guests and left me to do a little herb shopping. A mouth-watering arrangement of Mason jars completely absorbed my attention. Above the desk were three shelves, each one containing different strains of bunched, sticky, multi-shades of green, slap-yo-grandmammy buds of marijuana. “Hello there,” I greeted them.

  I picked up a jar with a sticker on the front depicting a tiny blonde fairy waving a wand, magical sparkles issuing from it. Opened it with my muzzle stuck to the lid, inhaling like a fourteen year old huffing Whiteout. The anticipation built quickly. I serenaded the drug. “I want to smoke you like an animal…”

  A drawer in the desk provided a box of Ziploc baggies. As I started to bag my groceries a faint pop snagged my attention. I froze, listening hard, paranoia creeping in, hoping some hooptie had backfired when, Pop! Pop! BOOM! BOOM! more gunshots erupted from the parking lot, shattering the boutique's front glass next door, subsequent shots heard louder through the opening.

  Someone is moving on us!

  “Blondie…”

  I don't remember dropping the jar or climbing the ladder. A blur of movement brought me to the hallway door adjoining the two businesses. It was open, Shocker's and Ace's legs sticking out on this side as they lay on the floor with arms over heads. Bullets rained into the boutique's front room with piercing cracks, rips, and thuds, shredding merchandise into debris that flew like shrapnel into the hall, bits of jackets, purses and lingerie cascading down on top of the girl-beast and geek. Crystal's slasher flick screams filled the short pauses between bursts, Blondie yelling over the discord for everyone to get behind the bar.

  Thick oak with a granite top. Good thinking, I praised my blonde warrior. Then, She won't leave Crystal. We'll have to escape out the back, using something to shield… But what?

  “Challenge,” I said, inhaling deeply as my good buddy Adrenaline surged through my chest and limbs with tidal force. “This should be fun.”

  “Hey asshole.” Shocker glared up at me, then flinched as more rounds tore through the thin panels and frame just above her. “Quit stroking your death wish and figure out how we can get out of this.”

  “Simple,” I replied with a wolfish baring of teeth. “Our pack has to out maneuver theirs.” I crouched down, acutely aware of the intensity radiating from them as I visualized what we must do. “You two get the helmets. There are six suits in the cabinet next to it. Grab those and meet me at the bar. We'll make our play for the ally.” I waited for a pause in the barrage and stepped over them quickly, sprinting into the fray, hoping my skull and organs followed me into the next room.

  She yelled after me, “Helmets and suits?! Where are the freaking weapons???”

  I dove and slid on my stomach right as more bullets slammed into the hallway. Crashed into a stool. Scrambled around the bar like a dog clawing on tile with no traction. Bobby lay over Crystal like a grizzly rug, Blondie and the Viet men hunkered down in front of them. Big Guns hefted twin chrome .45s with a thoroughly pissed off face eyeing me between them. “Gat?” I asked him.

  He snarled, “Him and others. The
y flipped on me!” His face was thunderous. “Those I know are still loyal aren't answering. And no one is answering at the garage either.”

  Bad. It's all bad. That's all of his top men!

  Tho and carl…

  I tried to project calm command. “They have maybe five minutes before Biloxi PD shows up. More or less. They'll move in quickly, front and back.”

  “Duh,” Shocker said behind me, sliding in with Ace. They dumped arms full of helmets and black riding suits on the floor. “You said we're going out the back. These bulletproof?”

  “Sort of,” Blondie answered.

  “Close enough.” I grabbed my suit from the pile and kicked off my boots, quickly standing and stepping into it. Zipped up the front. With jeans on the tight suit was incredibly ball-smashing.

  Well fuck you, too! they burned as I slipped my boots back on.

  “Service ally,” I groaned. “There are several Dumpsters we can use for cover.”

  “Those rifles would shred a car,” Big Guns said, nodding. He looked at Anh Long, his liege he had sworn to protect. He spoke to him in Vietnamese, asking if my plan was acceptable.

  The old man grabbed Big Guns' shoulder. “I trust your judgement, Em Hung.”

  Big Guns met my eyes, waved a gun, Let's do it, bro.

  “I'm assuming these are ours.” Shocker indicated the suits, then impatiently handed my helmet to me. Blondie pointed out who got what and everyone tugged on their outfits in a frenzy.

  The assault became sporadic shots, then ceased altogether. Without the deafening destruction we could hear faint yells from shoppers around the plaza, their vehicles racing away. Closer to the boutique we listened to the commands from our enemy barked in harsh, foreign dialect. And in the bar we heard our hearts pounding. I put my helmet on. “Gloves,” I complained to Blondie, looking at my hands. “We forgot gloves. Can you make these play music?” I tapped the helmet.

  “You're going to hear a lively drum solo if you don't tell me exactly what you're going to do,” she said, eyes full of worry despite her querulous tone. Her dress and heels on the floor, she zipped up her suit and moved to take Crystal's sandals, slipped them on.