10 — Sadie Cassavaugh

Some pas­sen­gers shrieked, averted their eyes and cov­ered their noses and mouths, as they had learned to do in grade school drills. Mar­vin stag­gered back­ward, falling into the seat that buck­led the backs of his knees. He grasped Sheila’s wrist as they braced together, heads in their laps.

A full two thirds of the pas­sen­gers, appar­ently lack­ing a basic grade school edu­ca­tion, were trans­fixed by Percy’s remain­ing hand as it descended to his hip. It slipped inside a clev­erly con­cealed pocket of his mon­key suit, a gar­ment that gave him the appear­ance of a shiny black furred pri­mate but was in fact just the well sewn pelts of Bozeman’s ubiq­ui­tous canine com­pan­ion, the Labrador. (Col­lected after the Muck­o­ca­lypse by a radio trans­mis­sion that called a sin­gle name over the crack­ling bar­ren airwaves…Bridger.….Bridger.….Bridger.)

To Marvin’s sur­prise, the hand did not furi­ously shake inside that unfor­tu­nate pocket, but reap­peared, clutch­ing a small sil­ver chain from which dan­gled a per­fectly cut crys­tal snake, its facets throw­ing rain­bows onto the per­plexed faces of the pas­sen­gers who had been hop­ing in vain for a lit­tle post land­ing entertainment.

Behold!” Percy boomed, rais­ing the crys­tal above his head. “Quet­zal­coatl, the Diviner!”

Eve hopped from foot to foot, clap­ping her hands and singing in her native chat­ter. Percy stalked the aisle, hold­ing his lit­tle charm over the heads of pas­sen­gers. Mar­vin tensed as the charm seemed to sway over Peace­andlove. She gulped and held her hands palm up in sup­pli­ca­tion. The snake spun in a widen­ing cir­cle as the carved scales bloomed with color like char­coal smoke.

Wid­der­shins,” Percy declared. “Gray.” He caught Marvin’s eye and gave him a know­ing, con­de­scend­ing “Tsk,” before con­tin­u­ing down the aisle. He paused before Sheila, who snorted and slapped away the snake charm as it dan­gled over her head. The color of blood orange pulp spread through the scales at the con­tact of her hand.

Oh, ho!” Percy said. “A priest­ess!” His gaze fell on Marvin’s hand, still tightly hold­ing Sheila’s wrist. “How do you feel?” he asked Mar­vin. Mar­vin made a vague grunt. Percy would know full well how he felt, as every­one felt sit­ting near Sheila– as though help­less­ness, irri­ta­tion at being ignored and a desire to be pam­pered and admired as a trea­sured spec­i­men of man­hood were burn­ing in the cru­cible of his gut.

I know the true secrets, my Men­tor,” Percy said. His hooked hand of steel rods del­i­cately pinched a teacup of saf­flower con­coc­tion. He held the thin china rim close to Marvin’s lips.

It is not as we thought,” Percy con­tin­ued. “It is not Woman who calls the Venu­sian Over­lords. It is not she whose power explodes the crys­tals. It is US, my Men­tor. It was always us. Drink now, and under­stand the lie we have been told – the lie we told our­selves about that day.…..”

(This seems to be a rather long pro­logue, just sayin’)

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