JPF Home Page Forums Creative Arts Forums Creative Writing Forum "One Night In Paradise"

4. GREENIES, ORANGIES, AND DRAGONS!

Tinunh veers to the left, along the wall along the dock. I see what looks like a... like... a flea market!

It's a broad cavern, going back into the stone. Pillars hold up the roof at regular intervals. It seems to be tiered, another level about a yard higher, and another one a yard higher than that. The lower tier seems to be where most of the activity is. Glowing strips on the low ceiling brighten as people move among tables and stalls full of... all kinds of... stuff! There seem to be clothing on hangers and packages wrapped in the gray hornet's nest-looking paper. Lots of arm-waving and murmuring. There's an... oily smell. Laughter bursts out somewhere! The voices rise and fall.

Down the front edge a cop team, one male, one female, dark blue uniforms, seems to be telling a woman she can't have stuff across the threshold onto the dock. She's moving stuff in, grumbling quietly about it. They move on.

Whoa! Tinunh turns to face us at the edge of the opening into the market. Eenunh stops. I stop. They converse. Tinunh turns, goes ahead, and about a third of the way along the dock, she turns up an aisle. Tables seem to be arranged so the sellers can walk up and down between two rows of tables, selling on both sides. Eenunh lingers, then, touches my arm to go, goes on by me. She passes the aisle where Tinunh has gone, on past another two-table setup and turns up the next aisle. I follow. I can see Tinunh as she seems to shop, stopping and eyeing things on that side, this side. She looks at me, irises flicker, and grins. Then her face becomes blank and she moves on. I think she... deliberately... blanked... her face. I don't know. I don't know why I think that; but I do. She finally stops where the table on her left is filled with tools, wooden handles, metal... everything. That's a definite hammer, wooden handle up, standing like a small sledge hammer. There are others in various sizes, different shapes. There are long screwdriver-looking things, pliers or something with two symmetrical 'handles' and a central rivet. There's stuff hanging from a line overhead, sheaths, handles sticking out.

I look away, deeper into the cavern, across the market to my right, at people, strange faces, often catch them looking at me. They smile and look away. I begin to nod. Some nod back. They smile and go about their business. Some mimic the nod, nudge companions and continue to look. They seem to nod again, as if to see if I'll nod again. I'm suddenly very aware of my hair parted on the right, thankful for my ballcap. All of them part it in the middle, no matter how long they wear it, men and women. Faces can be unique, but hair is very much the same. My hair's different, straight, getting long, and I part it on the right. My beard... none of them wears a beard. I... stand out in a crowd.

When I look again Tinunh is handling what looks like a corn knife or long meat-cleaver, a machete. She and the person at the table seem to engage in rapid exchange of short communications. He waves his arms, touches his chest, his belly. Tinunh turns the knife and hands it back to him, handle first. He puts it in a sheath and hangs it on the overhead line. There are others hanging there. Tinunh points. He takes a larger one off its hook and unsheathes it, hands it handle first to her. She looks at the handle, points at something there, shows it to him, examines the blade, passing it close across her face. She points to what may be nicks in the cutting edge, points them out, one after another. There is arm-waving, on his part. Tinunh stands still. She then spreads her right hand, palm up, and her left, holding the knife at the same level. She stands still. Arm waving; him. A staggering move. Touch the chest, the belly. He drops his hands to his sides. He looks out where the... water-trucks float. And he hands her the belted sheath. Tinunh sheathes the blade and tucks it atop her bag. I look away again.

Eenunh has moved up to the next table. There are lots of leather garments there. She's handling them, holding them up. Just brownish rough leather, pullover shirt, no collar, high at the neck, front and back, long-sleeves. I come closer. I want to keep an eye on Tinunh. This place is bedlam, noisy, scary, the kind of place, if Humans ran it, they would scheme and scam in, where children aren't safe! Where adults aren't safe.

Eenunh pulls on my left shoulder, spinning me to face away from her. Damn! She's strong. Gentle enough, but strong! She has a leathery garment in her left hand and spreads it across my back, with her right. She takes it away. I start to turn but she's taken another one from the table and lays it across my back. When she takes it away I turn my head enough to see she drapes it across her arm and pulls up a pair of leggings, like chaps, I think. No! They're just front and back pieces sewn together, leaving chap-like flaps at the seams. Eenunh holds them to my waist, from behind. Her foot kicks around the back of my feet, something about the length I assume. I spread my stance. I'm being... fitted; outfitted.

Now... she's... wrapping the waistband of the pants... around my neck! What the...? She takes them down, adds them to her armload. I think I'm getting outfitted! For what, I don't know. I turn. She grins at me, touches my shoulder. She pulls off my ball cap, adds a straw hat, puts it on my head. It must fit. She leaves it there. I tuck my ball cap inside my shirt, on my right shoulder. She has leather gloves. I offer my hands. They fit; thin brown leather. Comfortable fit, loose. They're kind of worn, used, but nice, flexible. It's a flea market. Uh oh! I think I'm going to work! She converses with the man beside the table. They smile, nod their heads once, make a little bow. He's making marks on a yellow-orange pad, makes marks on a second sheet, hands it to her.

When I look over for Tinunh she is not there! Before I can panic I hear her voice and turn to see her grinning up at her mother. She pats her pack-bag with her right hand in a 'mission accomplished' gesture. She grins at me. Her left hand clutches a handful of metal tools, knives, a trowel, atop the corn knife and sheath, atop her bag. Eenunh turns me and pushes me, to pass Tinunh and turn back the way we came. I lead them out, stop on the dock, look left and right. They pass me by, leading left, on down the dock. I follow. People are working at the back of most of the... water-trucks, on what look like gray sheet metal bins, hammering gingerly at what look like sliding lids, prying at hinges on others with lids that flip open. Minor repairs I think. The bins look like they've seen some work, some use

The interiors of the trucks... boats? Water-trucks? ...are white, like the outsides. I see those bins racked all along both walls, white racking, sheet metal gray bins, some stacked loosely in the floor. Each truck's a little different. Different stuff. I can't tell what it is; just bundles, stuff. There is a cabin at the front, glass windows all around, shiny brown wood, two seats, an opening in the middle. There's a definite bow, like a boat, in the front. But... tires, floating.

They've stopped. Eenunh opens the doors of a water-truck. It's like the others, white, the bins on both walls, some on the floor. Eenunh pulls open my pack-bag, puts the leather pants, shirt, and gloves in. Tinunh drops in her handful of tools. She folds the belt of the corn knife and puts it in, almost too long for the bag, strap to strap.

There is a rise in the cacophony of voices! I look around. People are getting into their trucks. Doors close with a slam or a click. The water-trucks begin to... hum! A low hum. Engines starting?

Eenunh points in to me, right hand, head toss. I go in, only need to duck a little below the high roof. She follows, pushes, points to the front. I feel the truck... the... boat, bob in the water with my weight, her weight. There are seats, like the chairs in their kitchen, the ones in the pub, 'leaners' I've come to call them, but thick, leather cushions are on the seat and the back. Same nappy brown leather as the clothes she just got me. There's a wheel, like a truck steering wheel, wooden. I step to the passenger side floorboard, sit. Shiny wood trim on the white dash. Nothing fancy; just brown wood, like the spindle doors, her coffee table, but with a shiny... maybe a varnish finish. Everything else is white. Eenunh gets under the wheel. Tinunh stacks two bins and straddles them in the middle, her hands on the backs of both our seats. They converse.

Eenunh flips a lever, slides her window back. The air comes in, cooler. I look at my side and my window would slide open too, but I don't. I study the structure. Levers. The roof is a hatch. I think it would unlatch here by my right arm and go up, gull-wing style.

Eenunh eases the water-truck away from the dock, into line behind others, and patiently forward. I think the wheels are turning underneath, the sound, the water churning a little. The pilot of another vehicle lets her go ahead. She lets others into line. If there's space everyone lets another one in. I can see blue sky through the opening, a big spindle door right on the water, broken white clouds, sunshine, blue sky. No lightning! I don't hear any thunder! I heard thunder, sporadic, when we woke up this morning. Now, none.

We come out facing the rising Sunstar. It is very red, low on the horizon, east. The red light reflects off the blue water, paints my green companions red. Their hair looks like fire! They are just as beautiful red as green. Such faces! Eenunh takes the... boat... out a ways, cuts right, to starboard. S-T-A-R-Right. Mnemonic.

Whitecaps on the water show the wind. I think we're on the side of the stony mountain opposite where her apartment is. We must be. East. Sunstarrise. The Sunstar sets in the west, shines into the pub. I loved looking at the red sandstone hive from the camp, the setting Sun behind me, everything red-painted, green cacti, the red sandstone mountain inflamed!

I look to my right and see where I would expect the slope up to a level I imagine is the patio, like over on our side. The water comes right up to the cliff face now, obviously flooding the patio and lower level of the complex. There are openings, other pubs I assume. The patio must circle the mountain. Small waves break where I think the edge of the patio would be, and go on in to break and shush against the base of the cliff. Pub openings are at regular intervals in the cliff face, and, yes, balconies up. And window... holes. I count five levels; five floors in the hive. It's... it's not a hive; it's an apartment building! A... city... carved into stone!

Truck-boats... boat-trucks... ahead of us go off in random directions, some in a hurry. There are teams, man-woman teams in blue, in boats just kind of cruising, like theyre not going anywhere. Eenunh veers to the right, starboard, just circling the mountain. I watch the cliff face for some clue of where we are. There's a series of big round glass windows, all along the south end of the stony mountain... the... rock. It seems all the same after we turn northwest. No! Wait! I... I'm pretty sure that's... our pub... barely a couple feet above water level, her balcony, two window holes. She veers left; 'port', four letters ending in 't', just like 'left'. Mnemonic. We're in the morning shadow of the sandstone mountain. We're heading west. I see the low horizon of the distant mountains I'd seen from the ore pits.

We pass an island. I think it's the hill that was near the camp! Some of the rock shapes at the top look familiar. Angelo and Briggs and I walked up there one day, Briggs prospecting, Angelo and I armed. Those things that snarl and smack in the night are out there, out here, somewhere.

I see no sign of the camp. The barracks-pod was sealed. It would have floated away. The mine strip, rip rap piles, are somewhere underwater. I don't know if I'm even looking in the right place!

I feel a little forlorn, stifle it, determine to deal with what is, not what I wish it was. What do I wish? I wonder.

We drive a boring while, turning north, west, north, west and south. I think we're searching for a random island. Water. Islands, some small, others larger. I see a water-truck ease up to the shore of one, and drive right out on the land on those white wheels! Amphibious! I never saw them driving them before in the desert. I wonder why. We go on, south, the Sunstar rising on our left now. On other islands there are people out on the ground near their trucks... doing something with bins. I wonder where we're going. And what we'll do there. The Sunstar is up! It's getting warm. I slide open my window. Yes, that's better.

Suddenly Eenunh and Tinunh are buzzing!

I'm... calling it buzzing; it's really not. I'm still trying to let go of that 'insect' analogy that took hold in our imaginations before I knew any of them.

Their voices have kind of a... nasal twang, lots of words that sound like a... a hum... hence 'buzz'. It's that 'unh' sound in their names.

They sound excited! There's an island ahead, not very big, or very high out of the water. She goes around it,to starboard; all the way around I think, both of them studying it intently, commenting, pointing. It's longer than it is wide, the angle we approached giving the impression it is small. But it's fairly long, maybe stretching, peninsulas, in three directions. As Eenunh comes full circle at the south end she eases in to the shore; stops with a slight bump! She shifts a lever on the steering column, backs out. They buzz. Tinunh points and Eenunh turns a bit to her left, port, L-E-F-T, four letters, ending in T, P-O-R-T, four letters, ending in T, mnemonic device. She approaches again. This time I feel the wheels hit the ground and spin, and up the 'beach' we go! She finds a place more level than others and stops.

Tinunh is up and to the back. She has taken her two-bin seat with her. She stacks them noisily with others loose on the floor. I hear the doors open. Eenunh opens her gull-wing hatch. I open mine. She pulls her dress up her thighs, throws shapely legs over and slips out over the side and disappears toward the back. I feel less agile, my side sloping uphill, and simply rise and stagger through the back and out the big doors. I jump down onto the red sand.

Tinunh reaches in on the floor for her bag and hands me the large sheath, the wooden handle of the big knife sticking out of mine. I pull the... machete... out. She takes it from me, lays it back in the bed. I see a splinter of the handle has broken off, leaving a space about half an inch long. That's what she was looking at when she got it, pointed out to the seller. I see nicks in the cutting edge. She wraps the belt of the sheath around my waist, takes it off, makes an adjustment, tries again. It fits. I watch her slip the end through a buckle with two prongs. The holes in the belt are metal rivets, like military gear back... home. I take over, tighten it to suit myself.

She reaches into the water-truck bed and hands me the corn knife. I put it back in the sheath. She hands me my pack-bag,offers to put it around my neck. I take off my straw hat. She reaches in the bag, hands me, wooden handle first, a sort of shaving razor knife, square on the blade end, a leather loop on the handle end. And then she hands me a knife with a tapering, serrated blade, like a drywall knife but smaller, leather loop. She points to my bag. I put the two knives back in it. She reaches in her bag and hands me a pair of the pliers-like tool. I examine them, flex the two sides, put them in my bag. And... a small hammer, like the people on the dock were using, making repairs. And a trowel. I don't know if we're farming, feasting or laying block!

Eenunh steps up, looking at me, golden irises flickering, looking at Tinunh. She is similarly outfitted, a corn knife belted around her waist, her bag on her shoulder. Tinunh is pulling things from her bag, leather garments like the ones Eenunh was outfitting me with. Mine are laying on the floor in the truck. I see they're both tossing the leathers into the bed of the water-truck, atop mine. Apparently we don't need them. Why do we need a big corn knife? I hope we're harvesting corn. Sugar cane maybe. They keep their gloves. Eenunh hands me my gloves. They put on straw hats, push them to hang from a chin strap down onto their backs. Aren't we a trio? I take my ball cap out of my shirt, toss it in the truck. I push my hat off my head, let it down on my back, hang by the chin strap.

They each climb in, one after the other, take a pair of bins from the boat, out of the wall racks, one from each side. I reach in, take two of the loose ones on the floor. Apparently the wrong ones. They talk. Eenunh takes them, steps up into the water-truck, puts them back on the floor. She takes another two out of the walls, very deliberate action, eye contact, slapping her right hand on one from each side, top row, front end of the racks, talking and looking at me. I realize that's what they had done, one from each side, top row, front. Why? She steps out, points me in. I go up into the... boat.

I see a difference in the bins. One has a sliding top in one end of the sliding part, with a wire handle. I tug at the handle and the slide opens, a 'locking' device on the inside giving, then snapping back to hold it closed, securely. Okay. Why? The other one from the top rack, other side of the boat, is hinged, flips up, the same 'snap' device to hold it closed. Both have more substantial handles, begger than the little ones on the slider and the hinged door, on each end.

Eenunh's nodding, motions for me to bring them and come out.

I follow where they lead up toward the higher part of the island, not far, stop at some red sandstone rock outcroppings, and sit on that ledge. The rock looks... eroded, like water comes up this high sometimes. They open their hinged bins, position them on the ground, on their right, with the hinge opening up and back, the opening toward the rock ledge. The one that slides open on top is on their left, with the slide toward the water. I set up the same way. They unsheathe and lay their knives on the ledge beside them. I do the same. Hey! We're all right-handed!

And we sit. And we sit. And we wait. And we wait. I wonder what for.

Suddenly they're looping the two knives on their right wrists, dangling down! Something's happening! Eenunh shows me she can flip first one knife, then the other, by the loops, into her hand. She drops the razor knife and flips up the serrated knife. Drops it and flips up the razor. I try it. I get both handles in my hand at once. Try again. She does it efficiently, getting the 'other' knife every time. I'm about fifty-fifty for getting one or the other knife in my hand. I have to look to see which one. Same one or the other one. I keep practicing.

So I'm looking around, and we're sitting there, and suddenly it feels hotter. I think the Sunstar has reached that height where it gets really hot toward midday. They pull on their straw hats so I pull on mine. Drifting clouds have changed the heat a little, varying with an offer of some shade, and then the brutal heat comes back, then shade, but...

Suddenly, up out of the water, come these brown crawly things!
Multi-legged centipedey about eight or ten inches long!
And not just one or two! There are dozens of them! Then more and more!
Scares the crap out of me!
There are so many of them! And they keep coming! The water's edge is kind of churning with them! They wriggle right up the beach at us!
I ain't afraid! I'm scared shitless!

Eenunh hands me my leather gloves. I put them on quickly, wishing there would be no reason why! She shows me her razor knife. I get mine in my hand
The girls begin picking them up; some kind of worm or eel or slug or... something! They use the razor-knife to cut off an end, a head I guess!
Then they use the serrated knife to put in the headless end and split the brown skin down the length of it! They peel the skin off, drop it.

What's left looks like... what I ate!
The green 'vegetable'!
It wasn't a vegetable!
It was these... things!

She opens the slider bin and tosses it in.

Eenunh catches and shows me one, points with her gloved finger at a green dot on the brown head. It wriggles! She processes it, beheads it, skins it, opens her hinged bin, tosses it in, closes the lid to keep live ones from getting in, I think, and picks up another one, shows me an orange dot on its head, opens the little trapdoor on the bin to her right, and drops it in live! They throw these live into the bin through the little door on top. What the hell? I think I ate one of those too! I'm hoping some meatballs come rolling up! Those are good!

I begin to do what they do. I'm creeped out at the feel of the wrigglies wriggling over my shoes, but... this is food... I guess. The greenies stop wriggling when I cut the head off. The skin is thin, easy to cut, to pull off. I catch an orange dot, open the little door, pitch it in, close it. Grab another one, check the dot color and proceed as necessary. The ones we don't catch go back under the rock ledge. I bend and look under and watch them disappear into little well-worn holes back there.

Eenunh and Tinunh are fast! Tinunh skins wrigglies as fast as her mother! I try to be fast, careful but fast. These knives are sharp. Soon I feel at least halfway competitive with their speed.

They've filled their first two bins, lifting the bins into their laps, reaching in and arranging the... greenies to fit more in. Eenunh checks mine, not quite full. Eenunh quickly rearranges my... greenies to lay crossways, likely to get more in the bin than chaos style. They take theirs by the handles to the water-truck and come back with empties, start over again. I finally fill mine. Eenunh inspects, nods, points to the boat. I pick them both up by the handle on one end. They're heavy! Eenunh and Tinunh made it look easy, lifted them with what seemed to be ease, carried them, put them back in their slots in the walls, top row, front. I'm banging my knuckles, damn near dropped a bin. I bring back more bins, and catch more wrigglies. The routine is both relaxing, mindless, just hustle, and tedious, annoyingly repetitive and... I like it.

Some time in the afternoon we've filled numerous bins. We're pulling bins from the next to the bottom rows.

The Sunstar is long past noon. It's hot, but clouds keep blocking out the direct light for long periods. The straw hat helps. The air gets very muggy, humid. The wrigglies keep coming. I look at the girls. They're sweating like I am!

I see Eenunh assess the sky, shading her eyes with her gloved hand, clouds thickening into a more solid overcast. We keep working. Finally we're taking empty bins from the bottom rows. Late that afternoon we begin using just a couple of the loose bins on the floor. Did we fill all the ones from the walls? I don't know. I think so. These bins are all hinged so we don't collect any more live ones. I feel a little pride when mine is full shortly after theirs! I add "Greenie Wrangler" to my resume'... edit it to 'Wriggly Wrangler'.

The Sunstar is far to the west, behind us, hot on my back, just a bright spot in the overcast, which is starting to look solid... but turbulent that direction. It's coming our way, fast.

It begins to rain in the distance, to the west! I can see rain falling, a haze against the distant mountains. I worry about the lightning! Surely they wouldn't have us out here if a storm like yesterday is coming!

The wrigglies... stop coming! Late arrivals come on up, disappear under the rock. Some seem to turn back, go back into the water. Soon nothing's moving. I see great piles of brown wriggly skins where we have worked. I take satisfaction that my pile is pretty good, I think as good as theirs!

They go to the edge of the water, rinse their knives, come back, pick up everything, tools, sheath their corn knives, making me wonder why we needed them close at hand! They pick up their last bins, move to the water-truck, put them in on the floor. Each of them goes along the sides, closes the gull-wing. They come to the back, bring out the leathery pants and torso garments. We all dress in them. They're heavy. It's too hot for leathers! The top is a long sleeve pullover. The leather is uncomfortable around the back of my neck, and my throat. I turn up the collar of my shirt. Hot, but better. The pants fit over my jeans. I put my straw hat back on.

Tinunh is stretching what look like seat covers over the seats in the cabin. She comes out, stopping on the thresh-hold, reaches to take my hat off, tweaking at the chinstrap, and lays it on the floor with theirs. They close up the water-truck back doors. The rain runs down into the neck of my leather pullover. 'Not the best rain gear', I think. My heads soaked! Their hair hangs down, wet. They're still... beautiful.

Eenunh motions for me to follow Tinunh. Tinunh leads along the beach, past the bow of the water-truck, down the other direction from where we've been working. She has her corn-knife out in her right hand. She steps cautiously, stalking I think, sometimes stamping her right foot lightly. She raises her left arm, like a right turn hand signal! A military halt signal.

Eenunh passes me, has her corn knife out, close behind the child! Tinunh edges left, toward the water. I get my corn-knife out.

I don't like the feel of this! What the hell are we...

The sand erupts!

A large black lizardly thing pops up slinging sand all around! It's frickin'... big as me!

I want to run!

It spits a mouthful of brown and green and orange out with a horrifying sound like vomiting 'Orrrrgggghhh'!

The rain begins to pour heavily!

Tinunh springs in front of it, waving her arms, shouting, seeming to keep it from going toward the water!

'Let the son of a bitch go!' I shout in my head!

Eenunh hops over its back to the other side, turns midair, lands on her feet! It whirls toward her!

She waves her arms, shouts, sidesteps downhill! It turns uphill away from her!

The rain is getting in my eyes! I'm freaking out!

It turns toward me in a flourish, sand flying, and flares a short frill around its head! The frill turns very red!

My life flashes before my eyes! I don't have time to watch it!

Tinunh leaps on it, right on its back! She hacks down on the left side of its great neck with her corn-knife!

It flings her off! She lands on her feet! There's red blood in the rain! It turns toward the water! Tinunh regains her position ahead of it! It turns back up the hill!

Eenunh springs on it, seizes the frill, lets go, hacks at the neck behind the frill, to the left of the head, twice, then to the right, twice, great, long, violent swings arcing overhead! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Violent! Red blood squirts and splats on the sand, runs away in the rain!

It flings her off! She lands on her feet! It gambols sideways toward me! I hack toward its head, strike it in the middle of its snout! Blood runs! Its mouth snaps open at me, a loud smack! The mouth closes, snaps open again with a loud smack! I jump to my left! It turns away from me, jumps up the hill!

The tail flips and hits me, in the legs, tripping me! I struggle to stay on my feet, fall, slamming my right shoulder against the rock ledge beside its big head! My left leg falls over its back! I bounce off the ledge, pulling my right leg in under it! It twists left and right, up on its hind feet, chest against the rock ledge! I wrap my legs around it! It claws at my calves, the leather pants! I attack its neck, hacking, once! Twice! Three times! I'm not hitting very hard, not... hard enough!

It rears up onto its hind legs, tries to mount the rock ledge! I throw my left arm around the neck, hug the great head to my cheek, hear a great green eye blinking at me! I hear it! I fear it! I hack in at its throat! Not hard enough to break the skin! It falls sideways, and thrusts its head under the rock ledge! It spins and claws toward the water, great legs throwing sand!

Through the rain I see the girls positioning themselves between it and the water! It turns again to try to mount the rock ledge! It lifts me, straining but strong! I hang on, try not to fall off! It seems weaker, struggles against my weight, but is weaker! I run the corn knife in the shallow gash I've inflicted under its throat, above my left arm! I seize the blade in my left hand, drag the blade across its throat, with force, push it back, pressing into the flesh!

Hot blood flows over my left hand, wrist, forearm where my sleeve is pushed up! I feel the heat of it at my elbow through the leather! Some stings at my wrist!

I feel its heartbeat! It stops moving, raises slowly up, lays its forelegs on the rock ledge, inhales and exhales quickly, tumbles back, falls on top of me!

It rolls off! I scramble to get up, struggle!

I don't have my knife! There it is! On the ground! I snatch it up! The beast doesn't attack! It drags itself toward the water. There's a gurgling sound. Red blood streams toward the water's edge, just in front of it, reddens the waves crashing there. I lay my left hand on its back, feel its heart beat! I lean on its back on my left knee. It stops moving. I feel the heartbeat stop. Now I feel my own. It inhales, a shuddering, sucking sound, exhales, inhales, exhales... and stops. I hack again at the back of the neck. The body jumps with the force of my blow! I fear it is a last attempt to get me! Raise my blade again! But it isn't. Just the force of my hack made it jump. It doesn't move.

I let go, stagger back. It rallies one last, feeble movement with its left front leg, throws one last handful of sand against my shins. I take hold of its tail. I don't want it to get away now! It doesn't respond. The girls have come up on it, on both sides. They're laughing! Crazy-assed... I can see golden irises flickering, looking at me. They're laughing! I don't see nothin' funny! I stagger back to the rock ledge, sit, leaning, hands on knees, corn knife gripped in my hand, still.

They drag their knives around its neck. The head finally comes loose from the body, lays still on the sand. I sit on the rock ledge and try to regain my sanity. I'm gasping for breath, realize it and calm myself, taking deep breaths. The cool rain is welcome. I look at the red blood on my left sleeve, my wrist, my glove.

They systematically butcher it, cut legs off, the tail. They're fast. They know where the joints are. They know how. Eenunh rolls the remaining torso onto its back with her foot, right leg. She runs her corn-knife from the throat to the anus, exerting herself to cut through a thick yellow belly hide. Tinunh pulls from one side, Eenunh from the other! I hear it rip open! Tinunh practically hops, long hops, left foot, right foot, left, back toward the water-truck. She comes back with two bins. Eenunh has cut various organs loose. She carries them to the edge of the water, rinses them, brings them back to the bins.

Soon a gut pile is laid aside, rinsing in the rain, not much in it. They must use almost everything. Eenunh lifts the torso, takes it in knee deep and rinses it in the water, brings it up and lays it on the rock ledge where I'm sitting. She's grinning at me, touches my shoulder. Rain runs down my face. She laughs, talks.

'We... are not amused' yet.

Tinunh rinses the legs, one by one, stacks them two by two on the torso. I go down and take hold of the head, drag it into the water, rinse it, bring it back to the rock ledge. It's heavy. The great green eyes stare without seeing. The girls converse, laugh, look at me, flashing golden irises, grinning perfect white teeth.

I'm not laughing! 'You bitches think this is funny?' I indulge in a little anger, put it away. Damn!

Now... now I'm laughing. They look at each other, grinning, but don't converse.

In that moment of calm I listen to the rain, hissing on the water, splattering on the rock and sand. Steam rises from the corpse of the beast. I smell it.

Eenunh and Tinunh remove their leathers, go into the water, rinse them of blood, standing in the water. They toss them to the beach. Their leathers and clothes aren't very bloody. Mine are. The blood got under the leathers at some point, up my arm, at my throat, at the end of my left sleeve, down in that glove.

Tinunh pulls her dress over her head. She's wearing what look like boxer briefs, shiny white underwear with short legs, and that short sleeveless upper garment. I see her navel. She goes further into the water, dunks under, comes up dousing her dress in and out of the water, wrings it out, swings it out over her head, around and around, slinging out water. She comes out of the water, pulls it back over her head, struggles with the wet fabric sticking to her skin. I reach for the fabric, help her. Her bushy hair clings to her beautiful little head, a lovely shape to her skull. I lift it out of the neck of her dress. She turns to me, smiles, grins, irises a'flicker, slaps me on the bicep with her right hand, pats me on the chest with her left. She's talking to me, grinning, looking closely into my eyes. I fake a smile, grin. It feels like a grimace. I begin to relax.

Eenunh goes in, pulls her dress over her head as she gets to deeper water, does the same thing. She has an upper undergarment, and the same style boxer brief underwear. I like... her... shape.

I pull off my leathers. I empty my pockets, lay things on the rock ledge. Wallet's wet! I drop my pants and shirt on the beach at water's edge. I go into the water in my underwear, regular briefs. I dunk under, shake my head in the water. I feel the sticky, stinky blood come out of my hair, off my face and neck. It's an oily sheen on the water, dappled by raindrops. I come out, get and rinse the leather gear, again and again. I can still see blood on my left sleeve, but I'm worn out. I take it to the beach, get my clothes, the one leather glove. I go back out, dunk under to get the feel of the lizard blood off. It doesn't all come off. I wipe at my left wrist and more comes off, but the red color is still there. It's... oily. I rinse the gloves, turn the left one inside out. I drag my shirt back and forth in the water, swing it overhead.

Water gets in my mouth. It tastes salty. I wonder if it's the... dragon blood. I step a little further out, dunk again. Still salty.

'Damn! These... people... are crazy!' I think.

I chuckle, then laugh out loud. I hear the girls laugh. I pull on my jeans, put my shoes back on. I look east, out across the vast stretch of water, and laugh! I feel like I'm recovering from the trauma of what we've just done. Damn! They could have... no... they couldn't have... warned me. If they could I would have been sitting in the water-truck waiting for them to get it done. Crazy! Who attacks giant lizards with corn knives? Is this how they... make a living?

Tinunh is going toward the water-truck. I pick the leathers up, come out of the water. I can see blood still in the leathers, in my shirt. I walk up, lay my clothes on the rock. I look west. The overcast is getting darker. The Sunstar is completely hidden, but there's light sky far off to the east. Eenunh's stopped in the middle of pulling on her dress, watching me closely. Our eyes meet. Golden irises flicker. She grins, says something. She finishes pulling on her dress onto her shoulders. Her underwear cling to her. I look until her head pops out the neck hole. I step closer, help her get the dress down her body. There's a... moment... standing, looking into each others eyes.

Tinunh comes driving the water-truck up the beach, goes into the water, turns it, backs up to the lizard. Eenunh gives a loud. shrill... chirp. Tinunh stops. I dress.

I decide to give a ritual of gratitude for the lizard's sacrifice. They step up beside me, Tinunh laying hands on two legs, but stopping as I reach out and touch them, right hand on one, left hand on the other. Eenunh has laid hands on the torso. She stops as I touch it with my left hand. They drop their hands to their sides, stand still. I look up into the rain, and speak aloud,
"Thank you for living, and now, dying. We simply need what you have been, that we may continue to be."

It's not... something I've ever done before, just a... moment's inspiration. I'm... happy... to be alive.

I take my hands off the leg and torso and stand still, head bowed. I just want to go home! I just want to go to sleep!

They load the lizard. Seeing they've left the head I go get it and put it in the bed of the boat. They shake their heads negatively, point at the head, speak to me about it. I don't know what they're saying. Eenunh reaches in and picks it up, tosses the head unceremoniously out on the beach! They get in, gesture for me to come on. I don't know why! I pick up the head, take it back up to the rock ledge and sit down. I'm pouting! I don't care! I tell them, "I want the head of this damned thing! It's a trophy! I want a picture of me with my head in its mouth!" I sit there. They look at me, converse.
"We killed it!" I say. "We killed it! And I want everyone to see the damned thing we killed! We killed it!"

They laugh and both come out in the rain. Eenunh takes me by the hand, pulls at me, but I resist. She doesn't force me to stand. I think she's strong enough to, if she wants to.

"To kill," she says. Says it again taking the buzz out of her voice, sounding like a human woman. I look in her eyes, say, "To kill." She grins, pats me on the shoulder. "To kill a mockingbird," she says, a little imperfectly.

They converse. Tinunh picks up the lizard head and grins at me, takes it down the beach, sets it in on the floor. She climbs in and goes to the cabin. Eenunh tugs at me, and I relent. We go and get in, close the doors. Tinunh's in the driver's seat. Eenunh squeezes into the passenger seat with me. I make room. We all shiver. We leave the windows open a crack. We stink of dragon blood. I do anyway.

Night falls on the water. Soon I see the lights of the stony mountain, dim balconies, dim light in the continuous row of windows at the top floor. I wonder who lives up there... in the penthouse.

Eenunh is asleep on my bicep. I hang my head, rest my eyes. I relive the day. Remarkable. Wild west.

What in the hell? What in the... in this world?