“I think we can make that road you were talking about, anyway,” Glottis said as he got into his seat. He looked up uncertainly back at me. “Which way’s northwest again?”
I checked my compass and pointed. The engine roared to life and we headed out.
We made better time with our new clearance, but the ground continued to get rougher. It also tended to slope downwards. The Bone Wagon came to a stop and Glottis turned to face me. “Hey, Manny,” he said, “there’s a river that runs through the forest. I think we’re gonna hit that before we find the road.”
“Well, if we do,” I said, “we can follow it up to the road.”
“The ground’s only going to get rougher, Manny—we’re getting close to the bottoms.”
“Let’s just go a little farther,” I said, “and see what we find.”
“OK, Manny,” Glottis sighed and let the car roll onward.
It was getting toward evening when Glottis suddenly slammed on the brakes.
“What is it now?” I demanded.
“I’m scared of that sign!” Glottis said, pointing.
“Oh, for…” I said as I climbed down and walked over to the sign. It was pretty creepy looking, I had to admit: rusty with unnecessary jagged pieces sticking out. It read:
“¡Híjole!” I exclaimed. “What does that mean?”
“Demon beavers, Manny!” Glottis said with a tremor in his voice. “They’ll make you into a dam!”
“Relax, Geppetto,” I said as I climbed back into the car, “I’m not made of wood.”
“But, Manny,” Glottis protested, “they don’t use wood!”
“So? That’s their problem,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Manny!” Glottis exclaimed.
“C’mon!” I ordered.
Glottis sighed and we rolled forward again. After a few minutes we came to a narrow track. We followed it and crested a small rise, beyond which and below was an immense black river. The light was getting a little dim but I thought I saw something good.
“Is that a bridge?” I asked, pointing.
“Uh… not exactly, Manny,” Glottis said.
“Well, let’s get a little closer,” I said and Glottis carefully drove down the slope. We got closer and I got a better look at my ‘bridge’. I felt a little sick. “Those monsters have built a dam out of human bones!” I exclaimed.
“I tried to tell you, Manny,” Glottis said in a scolding tone, telling me without saying so that a demon knows demons.
“It’s pretty wide, though,” I went on. “Think we could drive across?”
“Those things are mean!” Glottis protested. “They bite, they claw… and if one of them wrapped around my drive shaft, I’d be picking flaming hunks of fur outta my U-joint for months!”
“OK,” I said, “but the alternative is to turn around. Just raise us up on those new shocks and go as fast as you can.”
Glottis squirmed. “Manny, I don’t know if I like the idea of driving over people.”
“They won’t feel it,” I said, “they’re dead!”
“You’re dead,” he pointed out. “I wouldn’t want to drive over you!”
“That’s because you and I are friends.”
“Aw, Manny!” Glottis said, a little embarrassed. “You really want to do this?” he asked.
“If that dam can hold up across a big river of tar like that, it can support the Bone Wagon,” I said. “And, mean or not, no demon would want to take on a bad-ass car like this!”
“Yeah!” Glottis said, now properly motivated. “Let’s go!” He gunned the engine and drove to the edge of the dam. It was huge. I shuddered at the thought that at least some of my clients may have ended up here. Several burning shapes scurried around the dam. Close up, the many skulls embedded in the dam seemed to glare accusingly up at us.
“Run for your lives, you buck-toothed glow-balls!” Glottis screamed as he raised the Bone Wagon up to its full height. The car surged forward. Several beavers jumped out of the way. One, braver or dumber than the rest, lunged at the car. Glottis swerved into the beast and it disappeared under the car. There was a lurch as a rear wheel ran over it. The beaver burst in a bright shower of sparks. “Plenty more where that came from!” I shouted back toward the smoking remains.
No other beavers challenged us after that. We got across in two or three minutes and the Bone Wagon climbed the rising ground on the other side. About an hour later we found the road to Rubacava. Glottis lowered us down and floored the accelerator.
Rubacava or Bust
I woke up to someone nudging me, surprised to discover that I had fallen asleep. I looked over the side of the Bone Wagon and saw Glottis standing beside me. It was still dark, but there were some lights nearby. “What is it, mano?” I asked.
“It’s two in the morning, Manny,” Glottis said. “I’m tired and I’m hungry.”
“Where are we?” I asked as I stretched out of pointless habit.
“Some road stop,” he answered. “A café, motel, gas station, some houses.” He shrugged.
I fished in the backpack for my wallet. I found some money in the pack from Sal and Eva, but that added to what I already had on me still didn’t amount to much. Virtually all I had was in my bank account in El Marrow. “The café open?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s a twenty-four hour joint. Souls come through all the time.”
I climbed down from my seat. “Well, let’s hope it’s a cheap joint ’cause I don’t have much on me.”
“I’ve got a little, too, Manny,” Glottis said as we walked over to the café, “but it’s a long way to Rubacava.”
“Once we get there I’ll have to get my bank account transferred. It could be a long wait for Meche. I doubt Sal and Eva are gonna bankroll us, so we might need to get jobs.”
“Who’re Sal and Eva?” Glottis asked, cocking his head at the unfamiliar names as I pulled the door open and we went in.
The café was mostly empty, only two or three other souls besides the waitress and the short-order cook. We took a booth as far away from the others as possible. The waitress—a girl with asymmetrical features—came over and Glottis asked for hashed potatoes and eggs, and a pitcher of orange juice, while I just ordered coffee. When the waitress had gone I answered Glottis.
“Eva was the secretary in my office,” I said as I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. I sighed and readjusted a couple of neck vertebrae. “Sal… well…” I leaned closer to Glottis and spoke lower. “Sal’s the leader of something called the Lost Souls’ Alliance. Something’s rotten in the DOD and the LSA is fighting it. Eva’s part of it and so am I, now.”
Glottis’ face scrunched up with the effort of thinking. “This has something to do with Miss Colomar?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Meche was supposed to get a Double-N ticket, only somebody messed with her file and stole the ticket. We’ve got to find her to expose the racket. Then I can get my job back and work off my time.”
“We’ve got to help Miss Colomar, too, Manny,” Glottis said. “She’s in trouble!”
“I know, buddy, I know. But she’s just one part of this whole mess. If Sal’s right, then hundreds of Double-Ns have been stolen from good souls over the years.”