Merry - Chapter 66

   Panic woke up to gentle pressure on his abdomen. In his twilight between being not still completely asleep, but not fully awake yet… he felt actually several gentle pressures on his belly. Was Merry prodding him awake? No… it seemed to be Bitty Kitty. Giving Panic exploratory paw pressure with his right paw, testing the abdominal waterbed he was showing interest in.

   Two paws and further gentle pressure from the exploratory pushing of the tiny furred feet was followed by a steadier and lighter pressure, of both feet remaining on the stomach platform passing all tests for safety, warmth, and desirability. A third paw came up and down, dividing the cat's weight by three instead of two per paw. For a finale? Bitty Kitty decided this was the place to be, and the fourth little foot came up.

   Being a cat and all, after all that sly nonchalant work? Why not follow that up with a little kitty tap dance. Followed immediately by a circular sort of feline tarantella that whirled into a quick but surprisingly soft and fluffy collapse into a little oval ball of purring and vibrating warmth.

   "Bitty Kitty. I know you have instinct, to test the ground, then work on the tall grass before you lay down. But honestly, grass is not growing out of my tummy."

   Panic opened his eyes a fraction, and touched Bitty Kitty a few times on the head and neck, then a few strokes down the neck and back, followed by his patented gentle butt taps with a cupped hand. He finally rested his hand on the cat's shoulders gently and closed his eyes again.

   "I know little boy. I know. You'd rather lay with mommy, wouldn't you? Well, we're in the same boat, mister. You'll have to slum it with me for now, all right? Okay, I know, it's not the same. Sorry little guy. Maybe daddy will kill you something today, okay? We'll see later…"

   Merry had disappeared. Uncle Mikey and Merry had more than hinted at seeming to agree with Merry getting some time off and spending that time with Panic and Bitty Kitty and the boys around the long-range. Instead, Mike and Merry had disappeared into the ride to the state police barracks along with both IA guys.

   Panic didn't dread being alone these past several days, he simply hadn't been planning on it. He had been figuring on some quiet time with Merry up front, naturally. He would have gone into town for food and items for both of them, in case she didn't want to be in the public eye. When Merry decided it was time for their RR, she wouldn't be shy about saying anything, he figured. RR had become their new in word for romantic rape night.

   It had started out as R and R, a play on words derived from rest and relaxation. It passing for that common usage phrase in public was going to be their in joke. Then? It shortened quickly to RR. Finally, Panic when kissing her neck had made a sort of "arr arr" sound while pretending to chew instead of gently bite her neck. After they both got over the giggles, a quick "RR" became the new thing.

   Thing was, while Panic knew he could certainly beat off? It was as far as he knew impossible to rape himself, he definitely had to have his partner for that procedure to occur. With neither really believing in putting pinch hitters into the game, well, all Panic's plans were on unscheduled hiatus.

   Panic's plans for Merry had been as best as he could come up with for his human female cat. A prolonged no stress environment with a cornucopia of caresses, treats, presents and time spent talking in low soothing tones and laying up against one another for hours. Panic had figured this would entail not initiating sex and waiting politely for Merry to suggest it. Sleeping in. Either cooking himself, getting takeout in town and bringing it back for her, and getting takeout from Skykid's campfire before he had to leave. Panic had planned on waiting for Merry to decide when was the right time to go to the campfire and "face" everyone and deal with that.

   Panic had planned on getting Merry a gift card so she could go and get her level IV package at the hair and nail salon she had seemed to clearly enjoy so much, one of the few girly treats she allowed herself once in a blue moon. Bobby with an i was going to have to spend a second hour after the first beating the shit out of his girlfriend in the back room on his massage table, dribbling her face like a basketball off of the little padded toilet seat her face rested in.

   Panic had wracked his brain how to be "sweet" like an ordinary man would be to his wife. He quizzed the guys at the campfire how to do this. Particularly Skykid and Rob. Panic had even gone completely all out in his pursuit of this idealized treat time by approaching Trans Am for his thoughts. When he had asked Panic why he was approaching him? Panic gave him a wry grin and a very quiet explanation, while scanning the woods line for seemingly nothing, looking away.

   "Because. Everyone knows you're successful, and you have a trophy wife at home that seems to enjoy being one. What do I do? You seem to be the guy to ask."

   "First of all? I'm touched, Panic. I always thought we had a sort of… easy truce these several years. We agree to disagree. That's your trophy, then, huh?"

   "Yep."

   "Panic? We have… very… different trophies, you and me. Don't be offended by that, and I don't want you to take that as a shot. I know we trade little guy shots all the time, it's our thing, but… this isn't that, okay?"

   "All right."

   "Panic, mine expects a new Mercedes every year or two. Diamond tennis bracelets. Whatever shoes, purses, and clothes the other trophies are wearing this month. I'm not sure that would nail your trophy to the mantle. It might even piss her off, for all I know. The… only thing, I ever heard your trophy talk about that seemed like something my trophy likes?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Remember the story about you guys went shopping at the Army Navy store, and she got her hair nails and massage? I'd get her a day there."

   "Yeah. Already planned on a gift card for that. I was hoping you had something I couldn't figure out on my own."

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah…"

   "You know how you take a certain… pride… in making a long post about all the neat stuff you did for your cat?"

   "Yeah. I want Mister Fuzzy to be happy."

   "Okay. How… do you go about that…"

   Panic quit studying the wood line and raised his eyebrows at him.

   "I'm not making a joke… I'm being serious."

   "Well. I present the cat with various things, and I see the reaction. When I get the cat food dance? I make a note of it."

   "Hmm. Amazing to me, but… that's pretty much what I do with mine. My trophy can read, so… the cat food and cat toys? Need to have labels on them, so, you know… the other cats are impressed with how her owner treats her."

   He went back to scanning the wood line, for nothing.

   "Now it's my turn, I guess. This isn't a shot… I honestly thought you'd be more help at this."

   "Why? Because my dad had a used car lot? And I turned it into a new and used car lot with way more cars on the lot than dad ever thought he could pull off? Panic… that just means I learned how to play Monopolize, the car lot version. I don't get articles in 'car lot quarterly', on how to attract and keep a trophy wife. Do you… wanna know the truth? I mean the fucking truth, not… the guy jibes we shoot across the fire at each other every night. Just… the naked truth."

   "Sure."

   "Panic. I won't lie. I like having a new car lot. I like the things it brings me. But… some days? I wake up, and… well. The wife? Everyone knows she gets a new Mercedes every year or two. It's not a secret. So, I'm walking around the living room, and I'm looking out the window. The wife? Got her little booty shorts on, and all her girlfriends are over, they're all taking a break from tanning around my pool out back, and they're all having a soap bubble fight, helping my wife… you know… wash and wax her new Mercedes she just got that summer. Do you want to really… know… what goes through my mind when I see that?"

   "Do I guess? Or… do you just tell me."

   "Huh. Guess once, then I'll tell you."

   "I figure, one of three things. One? How lucky am I. I have all this stuff. Look what I got with it. I'm a lucky guy. Two? I'm the man. I didn't just take what dad gave me, I turned it into a lot more. I'm smart, I worked hard… this is my just reward. I earned all this. Three? Call your car lot buddies over to supposedly watch the ball game? And you all get to drink expensive beer and ogle the tits and ass rolling around in soap bubbles in your driveway, like a music video. You know, show off a little. Which one?"

   "Eh. This day I'm talking about? Half of me is… happy. Or… contented. But, the other half? I feel a twinge in my guts looking out there. I feel… in awe. A little scared, mostly. Why does that gorgeous girl love me? Gave me a couple beautiful kids. What if I lose that? What do I do then? My car lot, wouldn't mean shit. I get nervous, I get scared."

   "That doesn't make sense to me."

   "Why not?"

   "Well… I think of you as successful, as we define it here in this place and time. You have money, prime pussy, and you walk around town and golf with the mayor. You're winning the Monopolize game. You're a regular guy, how are you not regular happy with all this."

   "Panic. I'm… happy. Don't get me wrong. Do I feel like I accomplished something? Yes, I do. What I'm trying to say, I guess… maybe you think I walk around the living room, puffing my chest out, my shoulders back, whistling. Yeah, look what I got, look what I did. I really don't. I look out? I get a little scared."

   "So. What do you do when that happens?"

   "I don't know what to do. It's Sunday. I run out to my car lot? Just to spot check on my salesmen, are they making me money like they should be? Are the customers looking at new cars like they should be? I can't do anything there, so… I go out, and I try to figure out what little treat I can buy the wife, to give her in front of the girlfriends, that will keep my…trophy happy."

   "Kinda thought this was going to go different."

   Trans Am laughed.

   "Panic? I don't enjoy golfing with the mayor. I have to do that for being a big business owner in my town. I also do that? Because it seems to make my wife do the cat food dance, as you put it… when her friends see my family and the mayor's family? Out for dinner together. I do that… it let's the other business owners see that I have… pull, I guess you would call it."

   "I just thought… you were… happier."

   "Panic, you want to know the truth of it? You wanna know who the fucking man is, right here, right now? We're all jealous, and asking for advice?"

   "Who…"

   "Your buddy Skykid. He's the happiest guy out here right this second. His wife Judy? He knew she was out bowling, and we heard the bowling balls thundering in the speaker call. He showed a cellphone pic of that ugly Aunt Martha or whatever her name is? That drank too much cheap beer, and she has to spend the night at her house after driving her own ride home. We're all… jealous, I guess is the word for it. He ain't got that… twinge in his gut, most of us guys have."

   "So, you think I should be having this conversation with Skykid."

   "Panic… you do know there's a dilemma with having a successful business? Or… one of the really great jobs some guys have. Right?"

   "What's the dilemma? Ordinary men wish for those things. What's the problem when they finally get them."

   "A big business, a big shot job… it means you have to spend a lot of days and hours doing it. Making sure you don't throw away everything you worked for. The dilemma? You run the risk of spending 7 days a week, 12 hours a day… away from the wife and kids. You're now worried, that if anything happens to that career, that… it'll affect the wife and kids. It's a paradox. You spend too many days and too much time at work? Maybe your wife is unhappy and takes the kids away. Spend too much time at home? You could easily run the career into the ground. It's a fucking tar pit. There ain't no right answer."

   "See, I was kinda trying to decide on a bottle of wine, to go with the nail hair massage salon gift card? To share with the girls at the salon. Or, maybe flowers. You? Were supposed to have all the answers on trophies, and tell me which way to go with that."

   "Panic. You want to know what I really think?"

   "Sure."

   "I think… either one will work. Or hell, do both. But… more important than which way you go with it? Is this. Write out a card and put it with it. Your own handwriting. Put something in it? That really means something to just you and her, something only you two share."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. You see, my Mercedes? That… is your nail hair massage day at the salon. The… seat covers I run out and buy, and give to her in front of the girls washing and waxing her new Mercedes between tanning around the pool? That's the flowers and the bottle of wine. But… that handwritten note? That's the icing on the cake. Without that sweet note? That really says something? That's what turns the bottle of wine, into the aw… your man really cares, that's so sweet."

   "Oh. Now… that helped."

   "It did? Good. You didn't know about the aw note?"

   "Eh. I would of forgot that. Good call. Thanks. And…"

   "Yeah?"

   "Sorry Merry got everyone in an uproar over… worrying about what the women are up to while you're all out of the house on vacation. I'm sure that wasn't her intention."

   "Panic, remember when Speedy came to the RLB fest, oh, where the fuck were we that year… I think it was one of the Indiana fests, but… remember, he was telling everyone about all the home invasions that were popular that year in his county? He was working the cases?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well… Speedy rattled us all. We didn't think living in nice areas, we were a risk for home invasions, you know? Speedy laughed and how did he put that? Oh yeah… Jesus guys, they're criminals, not retards. You want better cash and prizes? Hit the nice areas. Then? He points out that the bigger properties out of town? More privacy? Easier to do the home invasions… we were all rattled that year."

   "Okay…"

   "Speedy didn't mean to put us all on edge, when we realized we almost all live in areas just like he was describing. Nice zip codes, big properties. We thought we were buying better living, and we were making ourselves targets."

   "And?"

   "Merry telling us the truth, about what's going on? Scaring us? No different than Speedy scaring us with the home invasions. You notice, no one is giving Merry any guff over that talk that night around the fire? We all started noticing more, just in town, and… yeah…"

   "Well, thanks. Me and Merry were worried a little about that."

   "Don't be. It's fine. Panic?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Me… the guys… we've been kinda… waiting for, you know, you to say something to us."

   "About…?"

   "Panic. We don't watch the news out here? Kinda part of the fun of being on vacation, really, but… we all go into town to buy stuff at the stores, and… we were surprised to hear what all went on. We… looked it up on our cellphones, cause, you know… people were talking in town about the big thing? We… know."

   "Oh."

   "We wondered where you and Rob were at a couple days, too, but… you… need anything?"

   "No."

   "You… want anything?"

   "I just kinda thought Merry would have been home by now. That's all."

   "The news… they keep saying, there's no charges filed. Are… you going to be talking to her…"

   "I haven't called her. She could be somewhere, and… I don't know. Statements? Interviews? Lawyers? That kinda shit. I figured the cops could have her phone. So, I wait."

   "All right. No one knew how to ask you about it. You weren't mentioning it."

   "I wasn't going to bring it up. But, since it came up? Yeah. You guys saw the news clips then. You got the idea what went on. I assume you all saw the one with all the cops giving the speeches describing what was going on?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well? Not much more to say then. It seems like it all worked out."

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah."

   "Panic… after we were all watching the news clips on our phones? Took us a while to realize… you were the 'boyfriend' that got into a…"

   "Yeah."

   "That's what happened to your shoulder, obviously."

   "Yeah."

   "It all makes sense now, I mean, that's why Merry was so damned quiet for the first week or two this time she came back, that's why you two weren't coming to the fires every night… Christ, Panic… are you all right?"

   "Oh, yeah. I only got shot once. It just went through the outer meat of my shoulder, really. Just a bunch of stitches. Hell, I jogged to the hospital to get sewed up. It really wasn't as big a deal as it seems like, to talk about it."

   "No, Panic. I know your shoulder is okay, I've seen you and Rob playing games walking on your hands… I meant are you o-k-a-y…"

   "All right. My shoulder is okay… and I'm okay. I haven't pooped yet today, but, I really don't worry about that shit…"

   "All right, all right… so… its okay if the guys wanna ask you about what happened when you finally come up to the fire ring? For breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? I figure you'll be up, whenever you're ready."

   "Uh, not much to tell really. You already know what the guy broke in to Merry's apartment to do, you already know what I did about it. Back then? I couldn't even say anything, because internal affairs asked me to keep it a secret. Merry hiding out up here? Was a secret. Again, I couldn't talk about it if I'd even wanted to."

   "Well, the cat's out the bag now…"

   "Plus? There's other reasons. For one thing, there's a lot of cops come up here with us, I don't wanna offend them, because I killed a dirty FBI agent. Merry feels a little weird now, after what she went through, kinda the same way. I can handle going into town, if people are gonna point at me and stuff, but, I don't know how Merry is gonna feel about that shit… this ain't even my property, I have no idea how George and his family are going to feel about it, they might be uncomfortable having me and Merry here. I'm… just playing it by ear."

   "Maybe you should call Merry. See how things are going. I'm sure there's a reason why she's held up. Might make you feel better."

   "I will eventually. Hey, thanks for the tip on the card…"

   "No problem. Tell Skykid and Rob, and the other guys I stopped up, I guess. I'm gonna go back to the cabin."

   "Take it easy, Panic…"

   "You too…"

   Panic walked back to the cabin. Thought about going into town, see how that went. Ostensibly so he had some idea how everyone acted, so if Merry asked he could tell her what to maybe expect. Then, he figured it wasn't that important. He went and got his car and drove slowly over the bumpy trails until he hit the fields and idled the engine next to the ruts, until he reached the barn.

   He went and got into the one freezer, and found the packs of deer chops. He grabbed one pack, and thought better of it and grabbed another pack. One could take forever to thaw, and he wanted to give Bitty Kitty his own little deer steak when he ate anyways. He slowly retraced his drive back and parked behind his little cabin and went in.

   He put one frozen pack into the refrigerator part of the dorm fridge, and left the other pack to thaw. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't not hungry. He suddenly realized this was silly. How was he supposed to lie to himself and try to pretend to himself it was no big deal Merry hadn't called yet.

   Panic decided he just had to be himself. He took a cell picture of Bitty Kitty. The cat happened to conveniently be laying on his back. Feet in the air. Panic got an angle and after several shots finally managed to capture the fuzzy testicles as if the camera was peeking over giant furry nuts.

   He picked the best one, and sent it.

   "Don't worry boy. I don't think mommy abandoned us."

   Panic finally got bored with sitting and watching the cat take a nap, and watching a pack of deer chops grow condensation as they thawed. He got Merry's wooden jewelry box out, and found the little pipe that had the big bowl. He all but overfilled it, and proceeded to smoke it slowly.

   He wasn't five minutes after setting it back into the jewelry box and had just laid down on Merry's side of the mattress. Attempting to share her scent with the cat. The cat opened one eye from it's dead bug pose, and closed it.

   "Sorry to disturb you, your majesty, but… you're hogging all mommy's scent. Is it okay if we share it?"

   He just got as settled in as he was going to get, when his cell beeped. Laughing silently to himself for being like a teenager over a phone text? He pounced on the phone.

   "U need better porn?"

   Fighting the urge to try to be funny, and screwing it up… he went basic.

   "What you got?"

   "Not now. Fucking statements. Call u tonight."

   Panic decided he felt better. He drove back up to the bunkhouse, but everyone was still out. Even Trans Am was gone again, he must have caught him coming and going back out. He didn't know which end of the property they were on, or even if they were out and about. Rather than call anyone, he just decided to go out. He then drove back to the cabin, and got one of his range hats and a pair of yellow shooter's glasses. He chose the pair that most closely resembled regular sunglasses.

   He passed up the donut shop, even though he saw a cop on duty having a coffee and lunch break. The donut girl clearly didn't like waiting on him. No sense lying to Merry later. If she idly asked if he went into town, and where he went? He hardly thought "donut whore" was the best response to have. Lying seemed silly as well.

   Pizza shop? Why not. He went in and waited for the one person "line" then ordered a whole meatball sub. Extra meatballs, extra sauce, extra cheese. Largest french fry they had. No one said anything to him that was other than casual social greetings, or food related. He bought a half gallon of cheap iced tea out of the self serve cooler and paid and drank out of it as he finished his lunch.

   The delivery driver came back from some lunch delivery and he got to hear the driver and the cook mentioning all the "crazy DC bullshit" in conversation. When they asked him about it, he just shrugged and said he didn't know anything. They asked if he didn't watch the news?

   He related he rarely watched the news. When asked why, he simply claimed there was never anything good on the news, what was the point. He could get the weather on his cell phone or the internet, that was all he ever needed out of the news anyways.

   They both took turns explaining the "crazy DC shit" that had gone down in a bar on the edge of town over the weekend. Didn't he see all the lights and vehicles there all weekend? He said no, he had been with his girlfriend all weekend. He thanked them for the "local news update" and told them he loved their meatball subs there, and left.

   Feeling good, he decided to try the diner. He wasn't really hungry, but decided to try to squeeze a piece of lemon meringue pie and a coffee down to see how bad the diner would be. Results were identical. Everyone was gossiping about the "biker bar massacre". No one recognized him as having any part in the brouhaha. One waitress asked him to tell Robbie hi for her. He left a couple dollar tip and eased himself out with no incident.

   He hung out in front of the donut shop for a few minutes, until he caught the on duty cop he knew and motioned him to come talk to him. Once noticed, the local hustled out and wanted to know if everything was all right.

   "Fine. Fine."

   "Well? You wanna come in? Coffee? I got 20 minutes left before I'm back on duty. Come on."

   "No, I'm fine…"

   "Well… what did you need?"

   "Well, first I just wanted to say thanks. All you guys, I thought did a bang up job over the weekend. Seriously, thanks."

   "No problem. It's our job, but, we all appreciate it. Sure you don't need anything?"

   "I'm just curious about something?"

   "Sure. What?"

   "I stopped at the pizza shop. I stopped at the diner."

   "Okay. And?"

   "It was weird. I was… kinda staying out of town these last couple days, didn't want everyone pointing at me, and asking me all about it. If you know what I mean."

   "Oh. Anyone hassling you?"

   "Ah… no, that's just it. I think other than the people I talk to all the time? Most people sort of think of me as… the guy that's always with Merry, Merry being the girl that punched the donut lady."

   The cop smiled. Nodded.

   "I get it, you were all ready to get the third degree."

   "Yeah. Why not?"

   "Chief said we're all in big trouble if we tell anyone that doesn't know already. You were there, you heard the state police giving the camera speech. The state police policy is to not release the names or addresses of violent crime victims or witnesses. Chief said that goes for us, too, or we look like backwoods butt-fuckers to the state police."

   "But… all the cameras… news stations… helicopters…"

   "Your girl? Was inside the bar from start to finish. She came out? With a magazine over her face. You and your buddy with the work truck? You guys sat on the side most of the time, or, were in the tent with us. You never got on camera once. The news cameras? All focused on cops in uniform, and scene workers."

   "You mean… no one knows?"

   "Not if you or one of your buddies don't say anything. Panic? Even the donut girl in there? All of us and the chief, we think it's fucking hysterical… she doesn't even know that's the same girl that knocked her silly in the bathroom."

   "Wow. I almost can't believe it. I thought me and Merry's name would be mud around here."

   "Nope. Panic? This is a really small town. You? Your girl… those workers out working on George's property… you guys been here what a month? Two months? You're not outsiders anymore. You all shop local. I saw your tall friend? Rob? Carrying groceries for an old lady one day. This… crazy shit that happened? To everyone in town… its just… some crazy shit that blew in from DC. One weekend… blew right the fuck back out."

   "Thanks."

   "Hey. Chief said, we're in trouble with the state police, if we don't respect the crime victim's privacy. You? Your girl? Your buddy? You guys aren't criminals. You're crime victims and witnesses. So far? Everyone either calls it the crazy DC shit, or, the biker bar massacre."

   "Well? Thanks again…"

   "Not a problem. You sure you don't wanna come in, have a coffee and a donut?"

   "No, thanks anyway, but… I'm gonna run along and call my girl, and give her the good news."

   The cop smiled.

   "Okay. Stop back when you can stay a while… and tell your girl the chief said hello. You know how the chief can tell a funny story? He's got a funny one about the donut lady getting slugged he's working on. I mean, you know how the chief is… the shit he says to that girl, when she bothers him? It's piss your pants funny. Little girl? If you don't quit serving cold coffee this morning? I'm getting that girl back in here, to knock you on your ass again…"

   "Okay. I promise, I'll stop in one morning after my girl's back home…"

   "Bye…"

   Panic called Rob directly before even getting back to the range, and told him the good news, and to get the word out to all the boys… it's not to be mentioned in town. Rob said he would certainly get right on it. Panic took stock of himself, and decided he was different as an adult in one important way. He was self aware. He knew to look for things when people idly told him things and gave him suggestions. The more important and the more trustworthy the person was in his personal schema of his world, the higher priority he gave it.

   Panic decided he had been being slightly unfair to Trans Am. He regarded him as a friend, technically. He was an RLB member after all, and a blinky star, and also a veteran of almost all the RLB-fests. Now? He was in the core group prepping the hopefully permanent RLB longrange. Extended stay at that, and donating time, money, equipment and labor to boot. Now? Trans Am had elevated himself again with his heart to heart frank talk with Panic.

   What he had thought was a man on the high end of acquaintance, and the low end of friend… was in actuality much higher up the list than Panic had been giving him internal credit for. Panic made a mental note to attempt in the future to always be on guard for little ways to return the dedication and to try to make up for the internal sleight he had been using.

   Once Panic put himself squarely into "self aware mode" as he was wont to do at times, to analyze his personal code and keep it adjusted and up to date… he figured he might as well stay in it for a few minutes. People high enough on his internal rating system for trustworthiness were constantly dropping hints or mentioning idly… that Panic didn't realize it, but he was an entirely different personality once Merry had literally jumped on him and attached herself to him.

   Panic knew that as long as he was getting sleep and wasn't sick and was otherwise on an even keel… his heart rate should be 70 or below. Usually around the 66 to 68 region. He had long known since sports as a youngster to check his heart rate anytime he wanted to. Simply watch any clock, find your pulse… and count for 15 seconds every beat. Multiply by four and there you have it. He had been 66 to 68 all morning.

   Now? He was running 76 to 78, after checking three times. He could feel the gentle lift in his mood. He could feel the slight urge to bubble up and out, with little puns and wordplay, the increased tendency he would have to make jokes. To be silly and frivolous.

   Absolutely nothing had changed in the sphere of his world, except one tiny thing. Panic now knew that a couple days apart and without communication from Merry? Would put him into his normal state. One or two tiny sentence fragments texted back and forth, with the promise of a call when it was convenient later, and the reassurance things were fine between them?

    Instant 10 to 12 beats per minute heart rate increase. Instant mood lift. Instant change in attitude, thoughts, and intentions. He could close his eyes and simply imagine the smell of her neck filling his nostrils. Imagining the smell? Stimulated his salivary glands slightly. For the tiniest, briefest instant? It almost tasted like licking the small of her back.

   Fleeting, but he was sure it passed over his taste buds. Not the salty lick of a wet neck after a shared run or during prolonged "in flight" turbulence, either. The brief imagined smell and taste was of the dry scent, the dry taste after a prolonged period of "slow". When the human scent markers collected and weren't cut with sweat.

   He got out of his car parked behind their little cabin and all but twirled the keys on his fingers walking in. Bitty Kitty had gotten into the edge of the thawing deer chop package. Panic looked at the layout from the cat's view of the world. His mommy brought him home foam containers of goodies. Why would the cat show the slightest hesitation to get into anything that smelled like food wrapped in paper.

   Bitty followed him around intently, concerned with what he was going to do with his treat he had found. Well? If it was thawed enough to chew on, it was thawed enough to cut. Panic worked with a knife and cut off a generous portion of the end of the pile of deer chops the cat had been enjoying. Put it in a dish they used for the purpose. Panic put the rest into the fridge to thaw out slower.

   Panic had to wait to see what communications he got from Merry when the time came might be, but the simple fact everything was aces and it was coming… made the wait a pleasurable event of time. Huh. Merry's damned love chemicals were working their magic on him. A faster heart rate, elevated mood… now? Christ, a slight ringing in his ear, and perhaps the faintest hint of slightly dizzy. Wow.

   Panic decided to go up and see about lunch with everyone. If they knew or even suspected he had communicated with Merry? Without him letting on? Just by some cast to his eyes and the way he sat… well, fuck it. Was his woman supposed to piss him off, after all? Not ideally, no… though that's the package deal other's reported often enough.

   Everyone called out to him, because they were already around the campfire. He fought the urge to skip like a little kid the last few steps to an open chair. He easily remembered his silent pledge to himself, he meant and kept promises to himself. He eyeballed an open folding camp chair nearer to Skykid and Rob… and another next to, well, more or less the three rich guys. Trans Am and his two buddies that were part of their intimate subgroup.

   Glances went around the day time campfire. It was something new. Panic couldn't realistically give a full on deadpan, he had to at least have the signature half wry smirk on.

   "What? Is there bird shit on my head?"

   "No… you going shooting later?"

   "Hadn't planned on it, but, check with Washington DC wildlife bureau on that one. I don't seem to be in charge of scheduling target practice."

   "Someone is in a much better mood."

   "Someone is. Hit me up high… try not to bean me in the face and ruin my mood…"

   Someone yelled "incoming!" and lobbed a can of beer from the back of the crowd.

   He cracked it. Sniffed at it, to seemingly ensure it was not poisonous. Sipped it.

   "I can count on one hand, the number of times I've seen you drink before nightfall. I can count on one hand, the number of times I've seen you sit without your Rob and Skykid when they're here."

   "Well? Whoever is keeping track of this shit? Mark it up. I don't mind… Okay, this is looking like a late lunch, or, is it an early dinner? What's on the menu…"

   "We slummed it for lunch… we were all pissing around with the clay skeet throwers, trying to get the three shooting paths lined up about right. Takes forever. Skykid was even there. No lunch. We had pizza."

   "Okay. Sky gets the night off? We ordering out again?"

   "This Frog won't hear of it… me and Robbie? We… scored a little treat. We wanna see how it goes over."

   Panic started faux praying out loud…

   "Dear lord, in your infinite wisdom, please let the French see the error of their ways, with the whole snails thing… and? If it would please you… get them to embrace the humble snake, as food. Specifically, snake mcnuggets… and just in case in this digital age, prayers have to use internet lingo to be heard up there? That's snake tendies, to replace chicken tendies. With the awesome Frog Sauces and shit… Amen, over and out."

   Skykid mock shouted everyone down…

   "All right, all right. I'm pretty sure, this will be something new. We have deer burgers as a backup, in case you don't like the look and smell of… what we're trying. And no, it's not goddamned snake meat."

   Rob coughed…

   "Oh. Deer sloppy joe, not burger burgers. So… you all get a backup option."

   A heckler's voice cut in…

   "Well? What the fuck is it?"

   "What part of the words surprise, and try out, are some of you having trouble grasping? Anyways, you're gonna see it soon, Robbie did the marinade. And? If you don't fall in love with the smell on the grill? How bad is deer sloppies for a backup, eh? When has the Frog, ever steered you guys wrong with dinner? Huh?"

   Another heckler's voice cut in…

   "Just the mushrooms on the fucking tacos, that was gross…"

   "Right, we quit with the mushrooms, as we all know, it's only a topping now… please? Just have a beer, and let the frog and the kraut handle this operation, okay?"

   They brought out trays of meat on the bone. No one would admit to anything until people started eating it. The gossiping and sipping of beer started immediately.

   "Look. It's gotta be something fucking weird, or else they would of just told us. Probably a fucking baby giraffe or some weird shit."

   "Looks like steak, but, the bones are all wrong…"

   "The smell is… I ain't gonna lie, this smells great…"

   Robbie and Skykid dove in at first opportunity, after there was enough of a platter for everyone. One by one, their noses lured them in.

   "This ain't mutton or lamb chops, I've had that before…"

   When almost everyone had a chop and had declared "baby giraffe" a winner? Rob and Skykid owned up to it, it was goat. They had gotten a killer deal on a fair sized meat goat on accident. Not the hugest animal to butcher, and least of all with the powered winch and come along skin puller and the band-saw down in the barn… they had left the job early to go and tend to their secret project.

   When asked why? Rob and Skykid laughed… because obviously, almost no one will have ate it before, and there was no way they were going to waste it when it was great chops, by letting everyone's imaginations run away with them how shitty it surely must be.

   Panic left shortly after dark.

   "Guys? I had a couple chops, it was great. I'm… gonna finish my beer and go back to the cabin and wait for my feel good phone call."

   Everyone seemed pleased, and wished him well or better. Skykid gave him a whole chop just for the cat.

   Home at the cabin now, he let Bitty Kitty know the foam takeout was for him. He laid down, amazed he was slightly tired and… exhausted? Well… that was why he left early, that was why he limited his beers. He laid down and was soon taking a nap. No biggie, he figured the phone would wake him when it was time.

   Panic entered a world that was scary and ethereal. He had no idea how long he laid asleep, and when he awoke… he wasn't really awake. The dark corners of his cabin were composed of churning, boiling black ink. Ink of two or three dark shades that swelled and boiled, shrunk, changing against one another like living inkblots that smoothly "grew" from one inkblot card to the next. He was covered in sweat. Thick sweat, like a clinging goo. He didn't have the energy nor the desire to try to get up and could only close his eyes and fall back, asleep before his head hit the wet pillow again.

   The inkblot creatures had gotten more size and form to them the next time his eyes opened. Tiny, glowing red eyes in the corner. A pair of them… one taller, one shorter. He was amazed he wasn't afraid of what they were there to do. He guessed he was dying, and these weird creatures were here to claim him. Perhaps he really was evil, and these were his friends now. Figures, he thought. Even in the afterlife? Everyone is going to hate me. Good, we'll fight there, too.

   One of these times, the scary ethereal world he was only briefly awake in? Had gigantic and scary teeth. Like a tiger's dangerous teeth, these impressive choppers were so close they were out of focus. He could smell the raw meat on the tiger's breath and hear the deep, low rattling it's throat made. Amazed he was so out of it, that he didn't care if he lived or died… he simply closed his eyes, and was out in a flash.

   Another time? Bitty Kitty was all but combing his hair. He had let his military high and tight grow out to almost require an actual trip to a barber, a rare thing for him. Bitty was licking his paw, combing the hair back carefully with claws, and redoing it all over.

   When his eyes were opening the next time, these memories were flashes. The present? He couldn't move, and he couldn't focus to see. He saw bare, tan shins… and his head was maneuvered so a sticky medicinal tasting mess could be dumped into his mouth a little bit at a time. He could smell earth and dirt. The only thing that squared logically? A hut villager was taking care of him.

   Unable to move, unable to focus to see, all he could do was briefly mumble out one of the few words he knew, several times before falling back out into the ink.

   "loon-ah, tie… loon-ah, tie… loon-ah, tie…"

   A hut villager taking care of him, though, hardly squared logic. That would mean, the rest of his life since? Had been a dream. That didn't make sense. It made more sense, that he had died and came back… somewhere. Perhaps he wasn't evil after all. Perhaps he'd been good enough in his life to get sent to live with hut villagers somewhere.

   He dragged his hand out and found the fuzzy unfocused tan shins. Gently wrapped his hand around one. Squeezed gently, then patted it.

   "loon-ah, tie… loon-ah, toot…"

   Trying to think, used up whatever small amount of energy he had. Trying to move a little, did the same thing. Doing both? Daring to try to think and move both? Complete heresy, and he instantly felt gears move that forced his eyes almost closed, down to slits. His brain followed suit and he went under again.

   Like every other interval, it could have been minutes… hours… or even days. No way to tell. His mind started to wake up, before his body did. Something cold and wet was moving over his face and arms. Then, his face again. Then his torso. Face again. Legs. Perhaps he was being washed for burial purposes, and that explained why he couldn't move. Nor talk. He had time though, there would be a whole day between the body washing and anointing… before he was burned on the scaffolding. He had plenty of time to murmur a few words, move a few fingers, to stop it.

   He wasn't able to do it yet, but, he had time. There would be a viewing of his body, then ritual anointing, before… well, before he was erroneously roasted alive. Best to save all your energy, and wait for the one best moment. During viewing? People will come and get close to you. That was the best time to try to speak and move, so they wouldn't accidentally kill him.

   He finally smelled… what? Smoke… not from a fire, though. Aromatic. Some kind of incense smoke. That would be some shaman. He could be trying last ditch healing, he could be instructing the spirits what to do with this one. Excellent chance here. A wise man. Lure him in…

   "Twah…"

   He heard movement. The aromatic smoke was stronger now. The wise man was close. He was so out of it, he wasn't sure if his hand was moving around or not, he hoped it was, as he thought. He finally felt what he thought was contact with the shaman's wrist. He itched his fingers on it, and could tell the orientation. When it was correct, he grabbed. He held on. The hand pulled, it dragged his mostly dead body with the tug. This might be his only chance, that he had been waiting for. Better hold on with a death grip. He tightened up as best he could.

   Without full strength, he had no chance to keep holding on. He twisted his wrist a few degrees the right way, and he heard the resounding thud crashing to the dirt next to him.

   "twah… twah… twah…"

   Someone, and probably the shaman blowing aromatic smoke over him? Screamed. This brought people. He could hear them outside the hut now. They burst in. Light? Made everything even more impossible to make anything out. He just kept repeating his mantra, "twah" and kept twisting his hand on the wrist every time it tried to move to get up. He had used up all the energy he had waited and saved up… he was going to quickly fall unconscious again, but it seemed like they knew he was alive, not to burn him alive even though they thought he was dead.

   He kept his death grip on the shaman's wrist, though. He had saved up only so much energy, and it took a huge amount of energy to think, and a huge amount of energy to move. He couldn't lose this important battle now that he was so close. Hands were on his hand now, trying to peel him off of the shaman's wrist. He almost laughed. Death grip. How appropriate a name for it, really. Perhaps? This is what it was named for.

   The shotgun Messiah was here too. He'd know Rob's voice anywhere. Rob's voice was trying to instruct everyone to quit. To leave him alone. They clearly weren't listening, and the next thing he heard was a thud of someone hitting the dirt, then another. Complaining, followed by Rob's voice. The voice he used as a last resort.

   "I swear to god, you touch him again, I will knock you the fuck out… stay away…"

   That was Rob. He was close. He was on him. He pried his fingers off the shaman's wrist, and held him down for a few seconds.

   "Yeah. There we go. He Twah'ed… you twah'ed…everyone? Is all twah'ed… all right. Now listen to me, is there some special reason you can't speak fucking English?"

   "Not… dead…"

   "No. You're not dead. Is that all you wanted us to know? Great… you're not dead. Quit going crazy."

   "Don't… let…"

   "Yes? What?"

   "Don't… let them… burn me alive. I'm not dead."

   "Hey. It's fine. We have no plans to burn you, asshole. Just go to sleep. Next time you wake up? Speak English, and quit fighting people. You're in your own camp. No one speaks fuck-sticks here… now get some more sleep… you're fine…"

   His eyes rolled up in his head, and the gears that lowered his eyelids churned, and he was back out. It was all right to sleep now. He would live to wake up. The battle to live was over, and he had won. Reinforcements had arrived. Bliss.