Chapter 1 "Should we go in there and break it up before somebody gets hurt?" "No need. They were having a bite together and laughing. So either they patched things up or one of them is an alien imposter and needs to be turned over to Homeland Security." "Well, I''ll keep an eye out for tentacles," I said, and the smart part of my brain jumped in front of the stupid part of my brain before it could say especially the hentai kind because no way was I going to try to explain that one to Vaughn. Instead I started to apologize for being totally fucking useless during the festival fight, but he waved it away like it was nothing, wouldn''t even let me finish. "You know what I''ve decided?" he said. "I''ve decided most people are morons." "Okay, maybe a bit broad--" "The reason they''re morons is they spend years, decades, hell, their whole lives regretting or apologizing for things nobody else even remembers.
They carry those things around like bags of sand that keep them from going to all the places they could''ve gone and would''ve gone if they hadn''t been so busy thinking about the goddamn sand. "You want to go around hauling sandbags, that''s your business, but don''t do it on my account, because I never thought twice about it. We''re in this together, we do what we can when the moment comes that we have to do it." Then he smiled in this kind of embarrassed way and shook his head. "Damn, sometimes I sound old even to me. But I''m not. I''m not that fucking old. I''ve just given it all a lot of thought.
" "Is that why you kicked in the money to get us into the festival?" He shrugged. "I had it, they didn''t. Not a big deal." "I''m just surprised you were carrying around that much cash." He looked at me for a second, like he was making a decision. Then I guess he must have made it because he stood and said, "You want to see something I''ll bet you''ve never seen before?" He led me into the empty bus, reached under his seat to pull out one of the two suitcases he''d brought on board, snapped open the latches, and pulled out a bag slightly bigger than a shaving kit. Unzipped it. Inside, shoved in tight, were stacks of hundred-dollar bills bound with rubber bands.
Given the size of the bag, I clicked through the numbers and came up with a figure somewhere between fifty and sixty thousand dollars. "Aren''t you worried somebody''ll steal it?" "Nope. Besides, under the circumstances it''s not like I''ll need it to live on during my yes-okay- now -I''m-that-fucking-old age. Hell, technically it''s not even mine." That part caught me by surprise. "What''d you do? Rob a bank?" "Something like that," he said. "Point being, I had the cash to spend, so I spent it and I''m glad and I''ll do it again if sufficiently provoked." Then he saw the rest of the group headed our way, zipped up the bag, and put it back in his suitcase.
"On the other hand," he said, "I''d rather not have Lisa find it and use it to buy the world''s biggest ball of string." "So why''d you tell me?" "Because I trust you, and if anything happens to me before we get where we''re going, I want to make sure this ends up with someone who''ll do the right thing with it." He shoved the suitcase back under his seat, then gave it a little kick for good measure. "I like the way you think, the way you talk to the others and look after ''em. My wife used to have all these terms for different sorts of people, like she was some kind of street-corner zoologist: users, losers, takers, martyrs. bunch of others. and saviors, guys who spend their lives looking for birds with busted wings that they can save. A savior, that''s you.
" "Thanks." "Don''t thank me," he said. "That was the kind she had the least patience with. Said it was self-indulgent. As for the fight, like I said, don''t give it another thought. Yeah, it got messy, but it''s the kind of thing that makes you feel alive, you know? Which is pretty funny, considering the circumstances." "I bet that kind of thing must''ve happened to you a lot over the years." "No, not really," he said, and left it at that as the others piled back onto the bus.
AdminMark We hit the pickup point in Des Moines, Iowa, well ahead of schedule. I''d gotten emails from about half a dozen prospects in the area, but since a lot of people have flaked out on us I emailed everyone to say we''d be doing group pickups to make sure at least one or two show up and we don''t waste time chasing our tails. While everybody else got out to stretch their legs, I took Dylan aside to talk about what happened at the rave. I reminded him that this wasn''t the first time he''d come out swinging in a difficult situation, and that we could''ve gotten out with a lot less trouble if he''d played it cool. He can''t keep pulling this shit because it puts everybody at risk. He promised he''d do better going forward, but I''d heard that before and it wasn''t enough for me anymore. I wanted to understand why he kept doing it so I''d know for sure whether or not he was going to keep on doing it despite his promises. At first he didn''t want to explain, but I kept after him and though it was really hard for him, he finally told me the whole story.
I can''t go into details about it because it''s uber-private and I never had him fill out a release form. I didn''t even think about it, which was my mistake; I figured he''s the driver; the story is everybody else . Should''ve known that would change once we got on the road. I could ask him to sign one now, but a) it''s kind of late in the day, b) I don''t think he''d sign it, and c) if he said no, it''s not like I could find another driver to step in at this point and I don''t want to back myself into a corner. So all I can do is take his word for it when he says he''ll try to be more mindful when the urge hits him to Hulk out at exactly the wrong moment. The main thing is: I get it. I understand. Shit, if I''d been through something like that, I''d react a hell of a lot worse.
I''d never get over it. Gotta go. Newbies should be here any time now. Hi, I''m Audio Recorder! Tap the icon to start recording. MARK ANTONELLI: Hey, hi, what''s your name? VOICE 11: Theresa. Theresa Caldwell, I wrote you-- MARK ANTONELLI: Okay, yeah, but who''s this? VOICE 12: Jim Atwater. VOICE 11: My boyfriend. LISA: Fuck me.
MARK ANTONELLI: This isn''t a passenger bus. VOICE 11: We know. MARK ANTONELLI: Nobody should be on here unless they intend to-- VOICE 12: We are, both of us! VOICE 11: My father said that if we didn''t break up he was going to disinherit me and call the cops on Jim because he''s black and I can''t take it anymore and neither can he and we''re done, okay, we''re just done with people and this world and my family and-- LISA: This is bullshit. VOICE 12: Hey, you can''t judge us, we''re just as serious as you are. LISA: Talk to the wrist, the hand''s not listening. TYLER: It''s a valid point. KAREN: Tyler, come on. TYLER: I just don''t know if we should be judging how serious other people are or their reasons for-- DYLAN: Mark, we should go, I don''t want to stay here too long, we''re exposed.
MARK ANTONELLI: Okay, we''ll sort this out later. Here''s the release forms, grab a seat in the back and sign them. Who are you? VOICE 13: Theo. Theo two two five seven at gmail dot com. MARK ANTONELLI: Last name? VOICE 13: None. Just Theo. I travel light. MARK ANTONELLI: Right, here you go, sit wherever you want.
You? VOICE 14: Shanelle Rose. Shanelle at-- MARK ANTONELLI: I got you. Go on in. Anybody else? DYLAN: Not that I can see. MARK ANTONELLI: Okay. DYLAN: Wait, hold on, we got one more coming. VOICE 15: (INDISTINGUISHABLE) MARK ANTONELLI: Open the door. VOICE 15: Thanks.
TYLER: Dude, take a breath, that backpack''s bigger than you are. DYLAN: Are you okay? VOICE 15: Yeah. I''m Zeke. I''m on the list. MARK ANTONELLI: Right. Here. Okay, that''s the last of them. Let''s go.
Jesus Christ. END RECORDING LIsa This is the second time I''ve tried to write about what happened at the festival. I spent most of my first attempt blaming Crazy Lisa, writing about how she''s acting out and getting more and more reckless. Sane Lisa never would''ve let someone she didn''t know handle her drink, but Crazy Lisa did it because like I told Karen she thinks she''s way too smart to fall for something like that so the drink couldn''t be drugged and even if it is there''s nothing left to lose, so why the fuck not? And everybody had to pay for her choice. So yeah, that''s what I said and that''s what I wrote, and it''s bullshit. I need to accept that there is no Crazy Lisa and no Sane Lisa, no Loud Lisa and no Quiet Lisa, there''s Just Lisa. Having "her" to blame for my stupid choices made it easier to live with whatever shit followed. It''s the lie that helps me keep going.
Well, we''re heading for the end now and I don''t want to keep lying anymore. The truth is that I''m fucked up. I''m making bad choices. I''m out.