Volume Eight
Chapter
Seventeen
A
Fond Farewell
In which Dodger bids goodbye to a
miracle or three
The
chief and his men were seated around the buffalo, exchanging words with the
ladies in hushed tones. It took a moment for Dodger to realize that the Sisters
were speaking in Ute, not English. Since the SCWAK Boxes were designed for an
English output, he was left to wonder how the ladies managed it. He supposed it
had something to do with their accelerated learning, combined with the doc
tinkering with the Boxes. Not that he claimed to understand it all, but it did
make some sort of sense. Dodger eased into the teepee, trying not to attract
attention to himself, and failing miserably.
No
sooner had he lowered the flap than the buffalo spied him.
“Welcome
back, Mr. Dodger,” Clotho said.
The
gathered men turned to stare at him. No, more like glare.
“We
knew we would see you again,” Atropos said.
“It
is good to do so,” Lachesis said.
“I
hate to interrupt,” Dodger said. “I just wanted the envelope I was promised.”
“Envelope?”
Clotho asked.
“What
envelope?” Lachesis asked.
“The
one the chief has been hanging on to,” Dodger said. “Rex left it for me. We
were told that once we settled your condition, we could have it.”
The
Sisters looked as one to the chief, demanding an answer in Ute.
The
chief turned a new shade of red as he whispered a few words.
“We
understand now,” Lachesis said.
“It
seems you were duped,” Clotho said.
“There
never was an envelope,” Atropos said.
“I
don’t get it,” Dodger said. “Why would they tell us there was one?”
“They
needed leverage,” Clotho said.
“And
you must admit,” Atropos said.
“It
did indeed work,” Lachesis said.
Dodger
shook his head in disappointment at the natives. “If y’all thought the doc
wouldn’t help you without reward, then y’all don’t know him very well.”
The
ladies nodded, then translated for the Utes.
Embarrassed,
the men looked to the ground, with nothing more to say on the matter.
“Am
I interrupting something?” the doc asked as he ducked into the tent.
Ched
joined them, tight on his heels.
“No,
sir,” Dodger said. “We are just about done here.”
“Tell
them that Jones should be all right,” the doc said. “Well, he has lost a few
fingers, but he will keep his life.”
Ched
translated the lot to the natives.
The
chief rose from his seat and went to the doc. He took the professor’s hand in
his and said, in clear English, “Thank you. For everything.”
The
doc started in surprise. “Oh my. You’re very welcome.”
Chief
Atchee nodded as he gave the doc’s hand a firm shake. After this, he motioned
to his men, and each stopped to repeat the ceremony as they left the teepee,
one by one.
“What
an honor,” the doc said.
“Honor,
shmonor,” Ched said. “You desherve more.”
“Really?
I imagine that was intended as a show of highest respect.”
“Reshpect
don’t pay the billsh.”
“For
once, I agree with Ched,” Dodger said. “You kept your end of things, but they can’t
keep theirs.”
“Whatever
do you mean?” the doc asked.
“There
never was an envelope. Rex didn’t leave us a damned thing. No envelope. No clue
as to where he is hiding. Nothing.”
“We
never said that,” Atropos said.
“We
said there wasn’t an envelope,” Clotho said.
“We
never said Rex didn’t leave you a clue,” Lachesis said. “You’re just looking for
it in the wrong place.”
“Where
am I supposed to look?” Dodger asked. “In the ICE machine? In the forge? This
entire reservation is far too vast to go traipsing about, looking for something
as convoluted as a clue from a complete madman, and you three meant you know
the answer, don’t you?”
The
buffalo nodded and said as one, “We always did.”
Dodger
was a man of some years, and he had seen and done his fair share of foolish
things. He once tried to drink a well-known outlaw under the table before trying to take the man’s head in for payment. Instead of winning the bet and collecting
the head and his bounty, Dodger ended up dead drunk and handcuffed naked to a
hitching post in the center of town. Once the sun rose, the entire town of Red
Mudd was treated to the sight of Dodger’s bare ass getting one hell of a tan.
But even that little faux pas did not compare to the utter foolishness that
settled on him now. The buffalo knew the secret of finding Rex’s compound the
entire time.
Hence
the reason Rex left the clue of employing the SCWAK Boxes in the first place.
“Son
of a bitch,” Dodger groaned. “Okay, then, where can we find Rex?”
“Don’t
you know?” Clotho asked.
“We
are surprised you don’t,” Lachesis said.
“We
told Hieronymus yesterday,” Atropos said.
“What?”
Dodger shouted. He spun about to stare the doc down. “Doc? What are they
talking about?”
The
doc chewed his bottom lip. “Oh dear. I may have forgotten about that bit.”
“I
can’t believe this.”
“Am
I the only one not shurprished?” Ched asked.
Dodger
growled. “Did they tell you or not? Sir.”
“Yes?”
the doc half asked, half squeaked.
Dodger
waited. He knew better than to wait, but he waited. And as he waited he grew
more and more irritated. “Well?”
“Well
what?”
“What
did they say?” Dodger shouted at his gentle-spirited boss man.
With
a squeak, the doc glanced to the buffalo, as if beseeching a way out from under
Dodger’s sudden wrath.
“The
little one knows what you seek,” Atropos said.
“Little
one?” Dodger asked.
“The
child of slumber,” Lachesis said.
“The
one plagued by nightmares,” Clotho said.
“Susan,”
Dodger said. “But she’s catatonic. How are we supposed to get information from a
sleeping child if we can’t wake her up?”
“You
glean it from her dreams,” the ladies said together.
Dodger
glanced to the doc for an answer to that.
“I
may have a way of peeking into others’ dreams,” the doc said. “It is extremely hazardous,
and of course, Rex knows just how dangerous it is, for both the dreamer and the
viewer. The horrid little mutt.”
Dodger
should’ve expected the answer to be so close.
What
he shouldn’t have done was gotten sidetracked by the worries of the reservation
when so much was at stake on a personal level. He shouldn’t have left the doc
alone, shouldn’t have gone creeping off in the dark after problems he had
nothing to do with, and shouldn’t have put himself in a position to run into
Tyler Crank. Looking back on it, he supposed it was all another test, a series
of coincidences contrived by Rex as further examination of Dodger’s spirit.
This
made him wonder if he’d passed or failed.
“I
apologize for artificially extending our stay,” the doc said.
“No,”
Dodger said. “It’s my fault, sir. I got wrapped up in all the drama of the
moment. If I had stuck by your side, where I should’ve been, then we could’ve
gotten our answer and moved on hours ago. But I had to go ignoring my real job and
poking my nose in other folks’ business, where it had no right bein’.”
“Mr.
Dodger,” the doc gasped. “I must protest. You uncovered a plot that threatened
the entire reservation, as well as assisted in avoiding a diplomatic disaster.
If you consider that as ignoring your real work, then I am not only pleased to
be your ignored employer, I am quite proud to be your ignored friend.” The doc
scratched his beard as he reconsidered his choice of words. “Oh dear, that
didn’t come out the way I intended it.”
Dodger
grinned. “I got the meaning, sir. Thanks.”
“You’re
quite welcome.” The doc slipped past Dodger, taking up a place amongst the
buffalo. “Now, all there is left to do is wait, I suppose.”
“Wait,
sir?”
“For
sunset.” The doc patted one of the ladies on her flank, to her delighted
giggles. “I wish we had longer to talk-”
“Professhor,”
Ched said over the doc. “We can’t shtay.”
“We
most certainly can,” the doc said.
“Sir,”
Dodger said. “We got what we came for, and wasted nearly two days getting it.
We need to leave, or we might not make it in time.”
“We
have almost a week and a half left,” the doc said. “A few more hours here won’t
strain our schedule.”
“I
heshitate to dishagree, doc,” Ched said.
“I
doubt that,” the doc said.
“Sharge
is right,” Ched continued over the doc. “We don’t know what kind of trapsh or
tricksh Canish Rexsh hash shet up for ush. We might need that whole week and a
half. Maybe more.”
“But,
but, but …” the doc stammered. “I don’t want to leave. Not yet.” His eyes grew
damp as his voice wavered. “It’s too soon. They need me.”
“You
need to go,” the buffalo said together.
“You
have done all you can for us,” Clotho said.
“We
appreciate your help,” Lachesis said.
“But
it is time for you to leave,” Atropos said.
“No!”
the doc shouted between tears. “I won’t abandon you. Not again.”
Dodger
cocked his head at the odd choice of words. He knew the doc had grown an
unusual attachment to the Sisters, but this suggested something deeper than
just a fondness for their intelligence.
The
doc pressed his wet face to the snowy flank of Clotho. “I won’t leave you to
die alone. Not this time.”
“We
were never alone,” Clotho said.
“We
always had each other,” Lachesis said.
“And
the memory of you,” Atropos said.
“Take
our blessings, dear Jupiter,” they said as one. “And fair thee well.”
The
doc collapsed onto Clotho, hugging her tight and openly weeping without shame.
Dodger’s
eyes welled in sympathetic sorrow.
“Come
on, Sharge,” Ched said, pulling at Dodger’s elbow. “Let’sh give him a minute to
shay goodbye.”
Dodger
sniffled as he followed the driver from the teepee. The early morning sun stung
his tear-laden eyes. He wiped at them with his sleeve for a moment before Ched
offered him a yellowing handkerchief. “Thanks, but I’m good. It’s just the sun
in my eyes.”
“Shuit
yourshelf, but there’sh no shame in tearsh. Not at shuch a shad shite. If it
weren’t for my condishion, I’d be bawlin’ like a babe.”
“I’ve
never seen him so tore up. I hate that he got so attached to them so quickly.”
Ched
eyed Dodger. “You don’t know, do you?”
Dodger
shook his head. “I guess I don’t.”
The
driver glanced behind Dodger, to the tent, then lowered his voice. “You
remember when the professhor shaid he had been run out of show many
countriesh?”
“Yes,”
Dodger said. “By his last count, I think he said it was forty-seven?”
“He
wash thirteen the lasht time he shet foot on hish native shoil. But that wash
by choish.”
Thirteen.
The same age Dodger’s world went to hell too. “What happened to him?”
Ched
struggled to explain, as if the tale was filled with his own personal pain. “He
had three shishtersh …”
“Oh
no.”
“Tripletsh
sheveral yearsh younger than him. Sheemsh they shuffered from a shevere blood
dishorder. One that not even a thirteen-year-old geniush could cure. Not for
lack of tryin’, though, that’sh for shure. The worsht happened, ash it alwaysh
doesh.”
“They
passed away,” Dodger said, finishing the story for the driver.
“Aye.
Worsher shtil, the doc wash out of town at the time, touring shome fanshy
univershity or shomethig. Not hish fault, jusht luck of the draw. He never
forgave himshelf for not bein’ there when the final moment came. In fact, from
what he shaysh, he never went home again.”
“Poor
man,” Dodger whispered.
“Yeah,
like all of ush, he’sh got more than one shob shtory, but that one probably
topsh the lisht.”
“Tops
any of mine. No wonder he grew so attached.”
“I
reckon he sheesh thosh buffalo ash a chansh at redempshon. After all, the three
fatesh ish what he ushed to call hish little shistersh.”
“Ah,
no wonder the buffalo called him Jupiter.”
“What
doesh that have to do with the prish of eggsh?”
“Because
Jupiter was the father of the gods.”
Unimpressed,
Ched gave a hollow chuckle. “Shometimesh I forget how much you don’t know about
all of ush.”
“What
am I missing?”
“Jupiter
ish the doc’sh middle name.” Shaking his head, Ched walked off, leaving Dodger
feeling more than a little foolish.
Behind
him came the lowing sounds of the buffalo paying the doc farewell in their
native tongue.
The
doc—eyes swollen with grief—ducked out of the teepee, carrying the three SCWAK
Boxes with him.
“Are
you all set?” Dodger asked. “You can take more time if you-”
“No,”
the doc said as he started walking toward the line. “I’ve tarried long enough.
We need to set out right away.”
Dodger
caught up with the man in a few easy steps. “I see you’re taking the talk boxes
with us.”
“Yes.
The ladies asked that I remove them. I spoke with the chief about it earlier
today. He was disappointed but compliant. I didn’t realize I would have to
remove them so soon, but there we are. We can’t leave them for Rex to exploit,
and we can’t-” the doc paused in his step as his voice caught in his throat.
Coming
to a rest beside his boss man, Dodger laid a hand on the doc’s shoulder. “Are
you sure you’re ready to leave?”
Tears
began to stream down the doc’s face once more, disappearing into his scruffy
beard, but he nodded all the same.
With
the excitement of the government men’s visit and Jones’s near coup behind them,
the crowd of natives had long since broken apart and returned to their everyday
lives. They milled around the camp, taking no heed of the weeping professor or
his troubled bodyguard. The pair of men stood at the border of the reservation,
surrounded by the lives of such ordinary people, sharing a quiet, sorrowful
moment.
“I
don’t claim to know what you’re going through,” Dodger said. “I can’t say I
understand or that I feel the same or any of those things, because I didn’t
lose what you lost, or how you lost it. I’ve suffered plenty in my time, but
mostly by my own stupidity and by my own hand. But still, for what it is worth,
my heart is with you, sir. As hired help and as a friend.”
The
doc looked up to Dodger with a beatific smile that seemed to cut the man’s
grief in half. He reached up and patted Dodger’s hand. “That is worth more than
you can imagine, Rodger. More than you can possibly imagine.”
As
they made their way back to the Sleipnir, where the rest of the family waited
to share the sorrow and heap their condolences on the doc, Dodger hoped the old
man found a bit of closure in his the meeting with the Sisters. It wasn’t every
day you got a second chance to be there for someone who needed you, or the
chance to say goodbye before the worst happened. Dodger knew that well enough,
considering his recent reconnection with his own mentor. Rex may have intended
the whole stunt out of meanness, but he indirectly opened and healed an aged
wound in the doc’s soul. Dodger was also forced to wonder at the long road
ahead of them, and all the questions left unanswered. Could they keep up their
pace without getting so sidetracked again? Or better still, did he really
possess the wherewithal to take on the next task at hand?
That
of sneaking into the dreams of a little girl.
****
The
End
****
NEXT UP
VOLUME NINE
THE PRINCESS AND THE PEAK
In which Dodger finds danger in the dreams of a child
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