Part Twenty-three
Tossing his war bag in the back seat, he nodded and let her take his hand. Then
Benny grinned. Was this woman the one? He wanted what Mom and Carl had.
Carl. A spasm of pain crossed Benny's face. He shoved aside the cramping sorry.
Papa Bear was gone, and the big Rushkie would be the first to tell him to shut
it and get on with living. But was hard, friggin hard, when every moment was
filled with things he wanted to share, advice he needed to asked. Papa Bear, so
full of living himself, so in love with all life had to offer, now only a chunk
of scorched meat, rotting in a grave in Sandy Valley.
Like Carl always said, Shit happens.
Benny let it ride for now.
Right at this point, all that mattered was this lady at his side.
There was a stack of gelt in his chain-drive wallet, and too much time on his
hands. Money from his pay since November, money from old Sam. Benny didn't
bother to count either. Money wasn't important, a man let his old lady screw
around with bills and crap like that. Still, it made the wallet bulge under his
right buttock in an uncomfortable lump.
"Where to, sailor?"
Benny growled at her. Alicia chuckled. She squeezed his fingers.
"Home? I got the whole weekend to get acquainted with you."
She let out the clutch and the gears ground in an ear crunching groan. Benny
winced and shook his head.
"Want me to drive?"
"Would you? Dad gave me this heap. He said it had belonged to my great-gramps a
thousand years ago. I can't seem to get the hang of a standard shift."
They traded places. Benny slid the old bus into first.
"Which way?"
Alicia looked up in surprise.
Embarrassed, he said, "I came in by chopper. This'll be my first time off base."
"Oh."
Alicia pointed out the directions and had to smile when Benny didn't grouse
about taking them off of a woman. Benny was different. How different, she didn't
know, but if he had a sensitivity about everything like he did for her feelings,
maybe her grandmother would come around.
And Abuelita was very cool towards Benny at first. Until he offered to cook
dinner and then dug the old woman a garden.
Even in the cool afternoon of North Carolina in mid-January Benny sweated over
the shovel, planting early peas and potatoes under the eagle eye of la Abuelita.
He joked with her in Spanish, and after a few days, she cackled, trading ones
with him that made even him blush.
Then one day he happened to look up and a flock of wild geese drifted overhead,
their lonely cries faint to his ears.
And a restless, unnamed urge filled Benny.
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and smiled. Love was crazy. Even a
travelin' man like him felt content to stay and putter in the garden, and later
look for a part-time job. Pump jockey, maybe, at one of the truck plazas,
something to fill the time.
Glancing out at the street he saw a flash of mirror black. Something made Benny
run in a crouch to the hedges. He parted them and saw the big, hulking casterati
Cindy used as her chauffeur.
The limousine stopped by the driveway for a few minutes, then began its slow
cruising of the neighborhood.
An old, old song came to him in Abuelita's still clear voice, singing of fifty
way to leave a lover, but for the life of him, Benny couldn't think of the one
he needed to show Alicia it was time to go. For her sake, and the sake of her
grandmother, her parents, her brother who had died fighting in America del Sud,
he had to.
Benny walked down passed winter brown lawns, kicking through drifts of wet
leaves. On the next block, amid rusting hulks of long dead autos he saw a speck
of red. Benny closed his eye and groaned.
The sound of wild geese drifted on the afternoon breeze.
In his heart a voice called softly to him, pleading for him to ride free before
the chains and the slavery of the Janissary Project imprisoned him again.
The spirit assigned to the old motorcycle called to his spirit. Benny's feet
dragged up the hump of the unkempt yard and he stopped, hands thrust deep into
the pockets of his jeans, looking at her.
"She's for sale."
A beanpole of a kid about his age, maybe a year older, spoke from under the hood
of a car. Yeah, maybe a year older. Even two, but one hell of a lot younger than
he was. The kid straightened, brushing a shock of bright yellow hair from his
eyes and nodded at the motorcycle.
"Interested?"
"She's a '15 Red Sun, and she'll go like the fires a hell were on her tail."
The kid looked at Benny, a wary respect in his cornflower blue eyes.
"Had one, did you?" He went to the old Uohali and stroked the bars. "She was my
Pop's. He gave her to me last year."
"She looks like she went through a war." Benny squatted beside the Red Sun.
The kid grinned at him. "She was. Standard Marine issue. Pop kind a borrowed her
down in del Sud and never gave her back. Lots a guys did that," he said, growing
a little defensive.
"I know a man, knew him, anyway, who brought back a whole Jeep."
"No foolin'?"
"No foolin'."
Rolling a smoke, Benny ignored the kid's chatter. He made a reluctant offering
to the Veil of the Sun and the Sacred-Father on the dalonega throne beyond. A
feeling like peace came over him. Benny blew a puff around the manifold in
greeting. The old Red Sun accepted the offering like it did everything else, in
stoic silence.
"Will she start?"
"Heck, yeah." The kid fished around in his pockets for a moment and dug out a
ring of keys, pulling one from it. "Here. Take her out for a spin, man. I tell
you, she's sweet enough to take home to mama."
Benny took them. He threw a leg over the cracked and worn saddle, in silence
cursing at the snap of pain that caused in his back. Eye closed, he waited for
it to die.
She was fine, starting up with a roar that brought a smile to his face.
Papa Bear, if she were two years newer, she'd be the spitting image of yours.
He nudged her into first and she purred, arching under his buttocks, begging to
race the very winds.
He patted the battered tank. "Not today, old girl."
"Huh, you say something?"
The Uohali bounced over the curb and he was gone. Sweet, the kid had that right,
was all he could think of. She did everything he asked of and offered more. The
Native American Corporation up on the old Mohawk rez built proud machines, or
they wouldn't have named them after the spirits. The Council of Elders would
have ostracized them otherwise, and the Harpies' Council most of all. Those old
woman had people's livers removed for less.
At a crossroad that led north, he stopped and stroked the battered tank. She was
as good, if not better than, any other make made anywhere the same age.
With more reluctance than he would admit, Benny turned her and rode back to the
kid. He eased the big Uohali around piles of car parts and rolled up to the kid
and a man standing by the porch.
From the look on the kid's face, it wasn't hard to tell the man had been hard at
cussing him out, thinking no doubt the 'breed made off with the Red Sun.
Cool, he offed the man a nod, dismounted and crouched to look over the engine.
She hadn't been taken care of. Not like she deserved. Not like Carl would have
cared for her. The beer gut on the redneck spoke volumes. Benny checked over the
engine, looked at the wires and tried to outwait them both.
"She got a set of tooled leather saddle bags," the man said. He gestured to the
kid with his can of beer. "Go fetch 'em out here, son."
She was built to climb mountains and scream defiance at the elements. If she was
built for the Corp, then she was better than even Carl's, and Carl bought only
the very best.
Working his jaws around, Benny glanced at the bags. They were nice, well made by
some poverty stricken camposino in the Andes. Lamas and horses with a row of
jagged peaks behind them were the design, all in hand tooled leather and lama
wool, the colors bright behind months' worth of grease and dust.
He nodded. Relief showed in the beanpole's eyes. The kid couldn't handle the
Uohali, that was plain in his face, and he was afraid of the spirit-power behind
the Red Sun. Benny took a deep breath and asked for advice from the One the Red
Sun had been named after.
The Eagle Mother grinned.
There was a lot of miles left in her. He would need the power and the brio to
stay free to ride. Benny nodded to himself, glanced up at the kid and asked in a
soft voice, "How much?"
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