12. The Ties that Bind, Part Two

They came up and took the roll away bed, and all of herves bandages that were lying all

over the floor.

“I went down to the casino floor to wait until they were done, and while I was waiting”

for the room to get cleaned up, I spotted a payphone and tried Jerry again. He'd just gotten back from getting dinner at Arby's. It was great to speak with them. Since I was downstairs, I got some dinner. I didn't know when I was going to get sick of the stakes sandwiches from Chris Kringles,

but tonight wasn't the night. People stared at me in the restaurant, since it was just takeout, I could handle it. I was happy not to have to go outside to get dinner. To tell you the truth, I was nervous about running into that mad man out there again.

The first time I'd seen him and screaming at a door downtown, it was around Christmas,

“and my mother explained that around the holidays, people often go a bit crazy.”

Maybe their kids weren't coming home for Christmas. Maybe they had no family, and were all alone, she said. Back in my clean room with the sandwich in front of the TV, I felt a lot better. It was like I had the place to myself again. I finally got a good night's sleep.

No weird dreams. No red dot keeping me awake. With a clear head, it occurred to me that my presence here and everyone knowing about it, and the sheriff being on the news, might force the culprit or culprits to keep a low profile until we found them.

“Another kid could go missing any time, but just being here might be helping to prevent”

it. Getting breakfast to go was not the same as getting a sandwich to go. So today would be my first foray into the Casino's included breakfast. On the way to the breakfast room, I walked through the Casino floor. There weren't many people around.

The smoke must have been taking a toll on business. There was one old lady on one particular Santa slot machine, she'd been there last night.

I think she'd always been here.

With a whole floor seemed somehow cleaner, someone was actually dusting the giant plastic Christmas tree in the center of the floor. The breakfast room was in the basement. There were no windows, but the aroma was great. One of the dining rooms in the Casino served a traditional western Christmas dinner every

night. At Turkey, also beef tenderloin, prime rib, and the breakfast room all decked out with Holly and Missile Toe had a day after Christmas theme, and the food was mostly leftovers from the big Christmas dinner. Framberry sauce for the waffles stuffing on the side.

What I wasn't expecting was how full the place was. There didn't seem to be many people in the Casino, but there was a long line for the waffle maker down here, an elf showed me to a table, an older Santa brought me some black coffee. There were a few tourists, a few scruffy news people. I'd been expecting a bit more media scrutiny so that wasn't shocking.

There were also two deadheads with tied-eyed t-shirts. They were a couple of tables over and they were interfering with the great smells of the Christmas leftovers. Most disconcerting, there was a group of what looked like very serious kiss fans. Dressed all in black with big black hair, makeup that made their faces pale, black lipstick.

One had an upside-down cross hanging from her neck. I knew these people weren't here for the Christmas theme to casino. They were here because of that news broadcast out of Las Vegas, and the things the sheriff

But I would like to divert the public that some of the markings we found out the crime scene

“and some of the evidence does suggest that a satin mystical called maybe operating in the”

area. I pushed all that aside for the moment and made a mental note to think about it later. It was time for breakfast and retreat to my room to write some notes. It looked like a calm day for me. I got in line behind a couple of the satanic rockers.

The two deadheads got in line behind me. I couldn't help but over here with they were saying, "No, they'll cover it up. If it's real, they would cause too much instability. They won't allow it to get out." And they both looked at me.

But I was just some over-thirty jerk waiting in line for the waffle machine. I shifted to make sure my Smith and Wesson wasn't too obvious. The deadheads though had overheard.

And then you go into that lake today.

The rocker's just giggled. "Okay, give me a call when you grill up." So weirdos were flocking to the area and planning to descend on the lake of fire out in the desert. Then the big Santa stormed into the breakfast room and walked straight up to the deadheads

behind me. "Excuse me. Can I see your room keys?" "I forgot mine in the room. You?"

"Yeah, I forgot mine too." "What room are you in?" "One, three, one, three." "There is no room, one, three, one, three."

“"I believe one of my colleagues already warned you to leave."”

"I don't know what, I think we were staying at the other hotel.

We just got lost and came in here by accident." "You're trespassing." "And you've been warned. We're oppressed in charges." They looked at each other like they were going to run.

The big Santa took a menacing step forward. "Don't even think about it. You're standing right beside an FBI agent." Shocked. And saddened.

I looked at Santa. The rockers looked at me. The deadheads looked for an escape route. There was no way out. I wasn't going to be getting any waffles this morning.

"Agent Coots, would you do me a favor in escort these two to the sheriff?" I almost told him it was my day off and that I didn't care if these guys stole a turkey sandwich and some leftover cranberry sauce. But of course, I didn't. "Let's not make a sin guys watching my badge like I was an undercover foiling a hit job or

a major drug deal. The deadheads gave up." "Set up like a booing pin." And just like that, I wasn't getting any breakfast. And my breakfast room cover was blown forever.

I walked the deadheads up the block. "You guys have a car?" "You know a lot of hotels don't mind if you grab some breakfast. That guy's really touchy." The sheriff's really touchy too.

Do me a favor. Walk a few blocks up the main strip here and try to catch a ride west to Salt Lake. There's police and firefighters all around that lake. It's roped off so you won't get anywhere anyways. It's just a chemical spill.

The media's blowing it all at a proportion. What do you say?

“How about just getting out of town for some reason he was staring at my shoes?”

Listen guys, you were trespassing. You want me to take you under the sheriff's pants off. But right at that moment, I realized I didn't have any handcuffs. They'd gone into the lake with clay. I wasn't about to pull my gun on these goofballs out on the sidewalk.

They must've been thinking the same things since one of them poked the other. And then they both took off running up the street. There was no point chasing them. I looked around. It didn't seem like anyone had seen.

I walked around in the dark for a bit, thinking about my next move and also killing times so that the Santa, if I saw him, would think I'd had enough time to take the dead heads to the sheriff. My plan was to spend the morning writing 302s and mining my own business. If there were weirdos in the casino planning to scow out the pond though, who knows how

many others there might be out there planning the same thing. The sheriff seemed held bent on fermenting hysteria about that lake, but that was the last thing I wanted. For one thing, it would interfere with my investigation into the missing kids and might even overshadow it.

And the lake was dangerous. I couldn't have members of the public wandering around out there.

No apple pie, no caty may, no breakfast waffles.

“I'm awful coffee from the machine in my room in a small box of cookies from the minibar.”

Since I needed to get my car fixed again and since I needed information, I called McCree and left a message for him to meet me a Bruno's shop. Then I got in my car and drove over there. Bruno said it might take him a couple of days to straighten out the front end and McCree might be shortly after.

So Harvey, man, I talked to those guys on the way over here and they were at a dead show in Reno a while back. They were following them to their next show over in Durham. Then they heard there was like a lake of fire in the desert and they took a detour. They said they were hitching a ride out of the pond.

The hell is that me? I should have known McCree was a deadhead himself. You talked to them when? Yeah, just a couple of minutes ago, man. Let's go.

We drove around a bit but couldn't find them. Damn it. Sorry McCree, we have to go out to the pond.

“Hey, you're dime dude, Uncle Sam's dime, I suppose that makes it my dime, right?”

For the second time in 24 hours, I was on my way out to that burning lake.

We pulled on to 233 and left sunny side behind us. I was almost getting used to the blanket of dark melancholy in the sky. If the grateful deadhead had a concert in Reno, how can the next one be in Durham, North Carolina? Because the dead are like me, man. They don't know where they're going and can't remember where they've been.

Trucking. The deadheads really just hitchhike all over the country. What if they get stuck? Yeah, the deadheads are like a big family, the ties that bind, you know, man. They rely on each other and help each other out, man.

It's a beautiful thing, really. We crested the ridge and I could see the fires glow in the distance.

The telephone poles passed by my window.

I looked up with the wires and wondered how many calls, how much good news and bad news

“and sad news was flying past us through those wires.”

Right past the lake of fire and off into the rest of the country. Oh, man, I don't know, I don't feel too well about you, man. It's the fumes, I think. I was feeling it again, too. The pit in my stomach dropped another 10 feet when I saw, up ahead, along the side of the

road, three more news vans. We passed them and I saw that they were from Salt Lake City, Boise, Idaho Falls. They wouldn't have passed through sunny sides, so it's no wonder I hadn't seen them. We stopped in front of the vans. There was no one around and the nausea grew as I realized there were at least three crews

with cameras out there filming that lake. I got out, no fire trucks, no deputies cars. You don't have to come with me. I don't know about you, but I'm not staying here by myself. And he got out too.

We followed the trail. The lake had risen even more and the shoreline wasn't where it was last time. Some brunt rabbits crossed in front of us. But the hell is that? It's the fumes.

They make you see things. His face was aghast. But you did see the same thing, right, man? Wasn't in my mind, the rabbits? Yeah.

I did. So you're saying we're having the same trip, fumes, my ass. Come on. We got as close as we could without being pushed back by the heat. McCree was speechless and so was I.

With all the smoke rising from the slow flames, it was impossible to see the other shore and it looked like the fire just went on forever. I walked down the shoreways and saw, ranged along the edge of the fire, the news crews. They were filming. A hot breeze came off the water, and the wisp inside me almost blew away.

A man stepped out of the black and foliage not far from us. He had a big VHS camera, an amateur camera man. Almost in slow motion he brought the camera to his shoulder and pointed it at the flames. I forced myself to walk over to him, feeling like I was walking through mud. Hey, he looked right at me.

It's not safe. Our eyes locked. He was older in his 40s with a beard.

the same seconding black feeling of mourning.

“His face was contorted as mine probably was.”

Apart from the blackness, there was almost nothing inside of me. Looking at this stranger though, the last remote shred of humanity felt only compassion for what I knew he felt. There's no law, but I can film here. He was right.

I just walked back along the shore to where McCree was standing, transfixed by the flames. McCree, come on. Everything seemed to stop, the ground trembled.

The sound froze all of us in place.

I didn't have to look around to know that everyone had heard it. I knew like everyone else on that shore that something was coming. We were all struck dumb, then slowly it came across the flames.

“A dark figure I couldn't see was moving on the waters.”

An unnaturally wide wicker hat covered the face, and the face I couldn't see was pure depths under the hat, and he had a staff used to push the raft he was on over the waters. The raft jerked forward as he pushed the stick into the water. Black stars seemed to spin around his figure, and I hated looking at him. It moved towards the shore at a distance from all of us.

A shuddering sadness blew off the water and overwhelmed the black feelings I'd had before. No one moved. A girl, maybe 14, walked to the edge of the flames. A dark figure rode over the meter. The thing extended its hand to her.

I should have run to savor, I just stood there and watched. She was far off what I could see every feature of her face. I knew she had died, she was dead.

“She had a mole on her cheek, and she had on an orange shirt, and I knew she'd been wearing”

when she died. She stepped onto the raft with the thing under the wicker hat, and he pushed off with his staff, none of us moved. We felt some deep chanting tones, but no one could move. As the raft drifted one jerking push at a time into the smoke, the girl grew fainter,

I couldn't make any sense of what I'd seen. Somewhere a small voice of reason tried to tell me that it really was the fumes. My imagination, what I knew we'd all seen the same thing. I turned back to the camera man, and it was like talking to someone underwater. Two hippy kids, did you see them around here?

He shook his head and I struggled down the shore to ask the other news crews. No one could say anything. They looked to me for answers. I tried to sound authoritative. You've all got to leave, this area isn't safe, the fumes are toxic.

They were packing up anyways. I got back to McCree, his face was just falling ashes. I grabbed his shoulder and he turned towards me. Let's go. Back on the road, McCree sat in the car and stared forwards.

I stood outside and watched as the news crews packed up and drove off. I had to keep my hands on the car. I felt like I was falling into some black pit. I did my best not to hear the giggles. I couldn't do anything about the news cameras.

Whatever was inside me just felt burnt and gone, and all I wanted was to get away. I barely remember getting in the cab. As we drove off, I felt the bile sticking to me. I felt permanently unclean. McCree didn't say a word.

I watched the telephone poles passing and I wished I could scream out through every wire out at the every part of the world about what I'd seen. McCree pushed the Cadillac hard to get away. We drove on and flacked by flack the feelings abbed slowly.

Finally I felt like I could look up at McCree.

Oh man, I don't know I got a daughter.

“It must be about 14 now. I don't even know where she is now with her mother somewhere.”

I looked back at the window as the telephone poles passed.

Thank you.