Eleven

“I’m just gonna make this a thing.  Just a cool… you could have it.”  Dave murmured as he rummaged through the food cooler.  The glory of the campfire’s ignition and the ensuing discussion had faded.  His role in the camping trip for Billy ebbed back into his nervous system.  He was high, but he had a purpose.  He tore the cellophane off of the steaks.  He hunted for the cooking tools.  He turned his attentions to the camp-stove.  “Fucking thing won’t start.  It needs some kind of more... fuel.”

            “Just like the sun.”  Billy said.  “The fire is just like the sun, here in the land of the sun.  Whoa, think about it dude, I’m leaving the land of the sun.”

            “The land of the sun?”  Rich tried to anchor his scattering attention on Billy’s words.  “Is this the land of the sun?”

            “Well, when you die, where the fuck do you go?  Wherever you’re going do you think the sun goes with you? Of course not.  It stays here. So... this is the land of the fucking sun.  It makes perfect sense, doesn't it?”

            “Sure… no, well… shit, but the only way...  Does the sun have a fucking soul?”

            “You’re starting to feel it.”  Billy’s gaze remained steady on the campfire. “It’s starting to happen.”

            “Hell yeah.”

            “Oh, the sun is setting.  We gotta hike up to the cliff.”

            “We gotta hike up there,” Rich echoed.  There were so many things going on.  There were so many things to be worried about but they came and went so fast.  There were so many things to see and they too were happening so fast.  There were so many things to say or not say.  There were so many things happening; all new, old, different.

            “We gotta go up there.” Billy commanded.

            “We gotta go up there.” Rich confirmed. 

TEN

The couple with the bikes and the Subaru gamely tried to ignore the boozy, juvenile taunts from the three of them.  Dave’s work with the stove and campfire continued.  He sloshed the kerosene and lighter fluid to and fro.  Soon the campsite was awash in accelerant.  The fumes hung in the air.

    “I am the god of hell-fire and I bring you…”

    “FIRE!!!”  Everybody joined in a rousing chorus of the Arthur Brown song as Dave tossed a flaming book of matches on the flammable-soaked firewood.  There was an audible whoosh and bright orange flame.  Dave, Rich and Billy stepped back from the fire pit, silenced by the spectacle.  They stared at the flames and wood, listening to the split and crackle.  They stared on and on, unaware of each other’s presence or their location.  They were consumed.

    “Whoa, it’s hot and bright.”

    “It’s orangey.”

    “When did you do that??”

    “Do what?”

    “Start the fire.”  Rich said mechanically.  He repeated himself, unsure if he was the one who asked in the first place.  “When did you start the fire?”

    “When did who start the fire?”  Dave wrestled with the meaning of each word in Rich’s question but couldn’t find enough.  “Who started the fire?”

    “You started it man,” Billy jumped in.  “You started the fire.  A man… you, started the fire.”

    “Are we talking about this fire here?  I started it, but I didn’t… wait,” Dave raced to catch up to his words.  “You weren’t asking me about fire, right?  Just this one?”

    “Fire’s fire,” Rich said.  He smiled his broad smile, “and this is a fire, and also the fire.”  His voice broke up in choking laughter.  It caught on with the other two.  All three of them wheezed with laughter.  This was fire.  It was also a fire and additionally, it was the fire.  Pretty simple stuff, really.  Pretty simple, highly amusing stuff. 

Nine

Dave complied with Billy’s request.  He distributed blotter tabs to his two friends, took an additional belt off the bottle of Dos Guzanos and began to indiscriminately pull camping gear out of the Jeep.  Very quickly, he returned to the picnic table smoking a cigarette and carrying canisters of fuel for the camp stove. 

    “Hey losers! I’m gonna totally cook us up a feast. You all should set up the tent before things get crazy around here.”

    “Losers and winners, prey and predators,” Rich walked back to the Jeep.  He picked up the storage bag for the tent off the hard clay ground.  Dave had tossed it there along with the accompanying poles in his strung out search for the stove and its fuel. "Bullshit. Come on Billy, this is the fucking U.S.A., you can be anything you want here if you work hard enough.”

    “Yeah, and having the right parents and friends doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    “It means you’re a bigger loser than we are, dude.” Dave interjected.  He was distractedly trying to do two things simultaneously that safety would dictate one do separately and with one's full measure of attention – start a fire and set up the camp stove.   He was definitely the most fucked up of the three from the early goings, but still up and about, still making a contribution to the proceedings.  “You come from a family with money… winners, but you decided to try and be a rock star, sooooo... here you are”

    “Here I am?”

    “Yes,” Dave and Billy responded.

“Fuck no, mi hermanos!”  Rich worked steadily at erecting the tent.  “Nobody here is any of that shit Billy’s talking about.  We’re brothers, man.  The rest of it doesn’t matter.”

    “The rest of it never matters to winners.”  Billy had finished his cigarette but made no move to help either Dave or Rich.  “Don’t worry dude, I still think you’re cool.”

    “Yeah, we won’t make you go eat some kinda freeze dried bean curd with those two dykes over there,” Dave stood up from his work and waved a piece of firewood above his head in the direction of the neighboring couple, “right ladies?”

    “That’s a man and a woman, dude!”  Rich corrected him.

    “Could’a fooled me.  With all that stupid bicycle gear on they look alike.”

    “YEAH, WE'RE TALKING ABOUT YOU!”  Billy stood up from the picnic table and shouted at the couple.  He grabbed the bottle of mescal and nosily gulped down another swallow.  He whooped like a Sonoran bandit and shouted at the couple again, “DON’T WORRY SKIP AND MUFFY, WE DIDN’T BRING OUR GUNS!”

Eight

The mile marker campground was nearly deserted.  A single car, a newer model Subaru wagon with expensive looking mountain bikes attached to the roof rack was parked in their favorite spot. A man and a woman in tight fitting biking attire were efficiently setting up camp.

“Shit, who are those people and what are they doing in our spot?” Dave stuck his head into the front seats of the Cherokee between Billy and Rich.  He had risen from his nod.  He was rallying.

“Give me that, Billy.” Rich pointed at the travel bullet. “I need some of that.”

“Looks like we’ll have to share the campground with those folks,” said Rich.  He parked the Jeep on one of the designated campsites a respectful distance from their unexpected neighbors.  He shut off the engine, stepped out of the front seat and waved at the man and woman. 

“Goddamnit, don’t do that!” Dave hissed.  “If we get all buddy-buddy with those two yuppies we’ll have to hide the tackle box!”

“Yuppies.  They’re not yuppies.”  Billy had climbed out of the Jeep, fired up a Marlboro light and sat down at the battered picnic table chained to the fire pit.  He leveled his stare at the man and the woman in the neighboring camp.  “They’re winners.”

“What?”  Dave and Rich simultaneously responded.

“Hey, what’s that make us? Dave added, still too drowsy to deduct the obvious answer.

“Losers.”

Rich emerged from the back of the Jeep with a large, red Coleman cooler.  “I’m no loser!”  He opened the cooler and pulled out a bottle of Mezcal, took a liberal swig and hoarsely whispered, “I brought it to wash down the blotter.”

“Well, maybe you aren’t and maybe you are.  I know I am.”

“Am what?” Dave took a swig from the bottle Rich handed him.  He passed it to Billy and turned back to the Jeep and his tackle box.

“A loser.  That couple over there look like real winners… well, at least to me.  Hell, practically everybody’s a winner, compared to me.  I lost a lot of shit, hundreds of jobs, places to live, guitars, cars, dogs…"

“Two wives,” Dave interrupted and stuck out his tongue.  There was a small square of white paper on it.

“Yep, two wives and a bunch of girlfriends, some of them were real nice.”  Billy took a deep drag from his cigarette.  His eyes were fixed on the two athletic looking people who by now had noticed the tanned, skinny man in the tank top at the picnic table, smoking and watching them intently. He exhaled, “And soon, I’m gonna lose my life.  Ebb and floe man, easy come and easy go.  Where’s my blotter?” 

Seven

There was no Black Sabbath, only Alice Cooper’s ‘Killer’ on disc. Billy stuck the disc into the car stereo. They were nearly there. The Jeep began to pick up speed on the dirt Forest Service road after a law-abiding creep through the streets on the northeast side of Show Low.

YOU COULD BE THE DEVIL/YOU COULD BE THE SAVIOR/WELL I REALLY CAN’T TELL BY THE WAY OF YOUR BEHAVIOR/I’LL TAKE YOU OFF THE BOAT/PUT YOU UNDER MY WINGS YEAH/YOU COULD PULL MY LEG OR ANYTHING/YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OH YEAH!

The volume on The Alice Cooper Group climbed higher the further they got away from the paved roads and traffic. When “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” began screeching and pounding on the speakers Rich and Billy did a toot from Dave’s travel bullet and began take in the surrounding forests.

“Summer!” Rich beamed. They were making headway to the campground in the White Mountains. Billy looked up from the travel pack of discs he had occupied himself with for the last bunch of miles. The shadows of the thin ponderosa pines and late afternoon sun strobe lit Rich's wide grin.

“Summer?”

“Summer, bro. You know man, shit. It’s just good we’re here right now, getting out in the summer one more… again. Right? This song always fucking reminds me of summer."

“It’s SUFFER, man! He’s fucking singing SUFFER”

“what, huh?” Rich’s smile slackened a bit. “I always thought it was ‘summer’.”

“Fucking Alice Cooper? It’s This is Alice Speakin’! SUFFER!! YEAH!”

Now Rich was intrigued. He glanced slyly at Billy and grinned again. “Oh shit, man. It’s because Alice is fucking evil?”

“Of course he’s fucking evil, it’s not Kiss shouting about teenage pussy.”

“SUFFER, YEAH” Rich shouted at the top of his lungs. Billy pumped his fist as he took another hit off Dave’s bullet.

Six

Rich did not heed Billy’s advice. Shortly before they reached the junction with State Highway 79, he pulled the Cherokee on to the shoulder and fucked with Dave’s nod. He got out of the jeep and walked around to the right rear passenger door. Rich lifted the latch and opened the door. Dave’s limp body started to fall out of the seat. Rich had to catch him before he made it all the way to the ground.

“Wake up, asshole.”

“What are you… whoa… hey man, what’s up?” Dave’s voice was distant and lazy. His body was like a big noodle. Rich pushed him back into the passenger’s seat and reached for the tackle box.

“What’s inside here that will wake him up?”

“Why do you wanna fuck with his nod, man?” Billy protested.

“No self control,” Rich complained. “You guys have no self control. That’s why nobody wants either of you in their band. This is going to turn into another Amsterdam!”

“Amsterdam,” Billy repeated and chuckled to himself. “Remember that luche libre mask I brought? Remember that whore in the window down by the canal? Oh man, the look on her face when she saw me coming back again with that mask on!”

“Where’s that cocaine?” Rich had the tackle box open on Dave’s lap and was sorting through various baggies of pills, powder and marijuana.

“Leave it, leave it alone.” Dave made a feeble attempt to shove Rich’s hands out of the tackle box. “I’m fine, dude. I’ll totally make us dinner when we get to Show Low.

Rich looked up from the tackle box. A bit of color had come back into his friend’s face. Dave weakly patted him on the shoulder.

“Stop fucking with my nod and get on with the driving. You do your job and I’ll do mine.”

Five

“Hey Billy, maybe we should stop in at the penitentiary so you can catch up with your old buddies?”  Rich cracked himself up as they drove past the grim looking town of Florence and the walls of the state prison.  He took his eyes off the road for an alarmingly long stretch of time, waiting for some kind of reaction.  Rich reached over into the passenger side of the jeep, grabbed his friend’s shoulder and shook it.  “Whaddaya say?”

            “Nothin’, I don’t say nothin’ about that shit.”  Billy stared out the window at the empty buildings crumbling into dust racing past them as they drove on. 

            “Armed robbery, dude.  Possession of Schedule 1 narcotics, dude.”  You were a menace!  Looking at you now, it’s hard to believe.”

            “Hard to believe what?” Billy said as he turned away from the highway.  "Don't ask about that kinda shit.  That's all it is, man.  Just stupid shit.”

            “Hey come on, bro.  I was only…”

            “No man, you weren’t.  Wanna know something?  Here’s a little bit of advice from your junkie, ex-convict friend before he fucking keels over and dies.  The world is full of two types of people, predators and prey.  Yeah, that’s it.  Just like in those fucking nature shows on T.V., predators and prey.”

            “What?  What the hell are you…”

            “Yeah man, and like, you’re looking all confused and thinking ‘what the fuck is he saying’ but deep down you know what I’m talking about and you’re afraid.”

            “Afraid?”

            “Hell yeah you’re afraid and you wanna know why?”  Billy grinned, giving Rich a close up view of his grayish, plaque encrusted teeth.  “You’re afraid because you don’t know which one you are, the predator or the prey.  HA!!”  Billy punched the roof of the Jeep in triumph.  Suddenly he snatched Rich’s travel pack of discs off the dashboard.  “You got any Black Sabbath in this thing?”

            “Hey Dave, did you hear this bullshit?  That’s gotta be the dope and pain meds talking.  Right Dave?”  When he got no response, Rich turned down the car stereo and glanced in the rearview mirror at the right rear passenger seat.  Dave was slumped in the seat, leaning against the safety belt.  He had a stringer of drool hanging from his mouth and he emitted a wheezy, rattling snore.

            “Oh shit, he didn’t… DAVE, ARE YOU OKAY?  WAKE UP, MAN!  ARE YOU OKAY?” Rich tried to steer and reach back to shake Dave at the same time, causing the Jeep to swerve back and forth on the road.

            “Quit fucking with his nod!” Billy reached out and punched Rich’s outstretched arm.  "He snorted Oxy back at the Circle K, don’t fuck with his nod, dude.”