The Feet of God

 33 - A GRAND EXIT

As we pushed our hand trucks down the corridor Ma suddenly stopped by a huge Wheezer freezer unit.  She opened the top and grabbed a couple’a frozen turkeys.  “Gas money.”

We continued a few hundred yards when I spotted natural light up ahead, filtered through leafy bushes near the opening of the tunnel.  Parked not far from our exit was another pink Cadillac, only this was a convertible.

Ma pulled a set of keys out of the folds of her gown and popped the trunk.  “Load ‘er up, and be fast about it.”

I started loading the cases of scotch.  “How many Caddies you got stashed?”

“The Master said there are times we need to rely on luck.  I picked up a few of these beauties for almost nothing at a Mary Kay overstock sale.  Never pass up a fantastic deal, I always say.”  She squinted toward the exit.  “The Loud Enlightened One also told us to leave as little to chance as possible, so always have a strategic way out before things get too fucked up.”

I was beginning to appreciate how shrewd and cunning Ma could be.  In a flash I’d loaded the car and we buckled up.  The old woman dropped the top down, gunned the engine and put the pedal to the metal.  We busted outta those bushes like a fox before the hounds.  Behind us and on the right I could see Moses Remington’s militia spotted our movement, and they targeted us with their howitzers.  Ma zigged and zagged her Caddie in evasive maneuvers avoiding shells exploding all around.

Not one to go quiet, Ma leaned on her horn and yelled:  “Motherfuckers!”  We disappeared under the cover of tall trees.

Her feathery bandana flew off in the wind like a wounded bird.  We tore up that dusty road, a bolt of pink lightning, fishtailing from side to side on every curve and throwing up chunks of gravel along the way.  Moses and his men vanished in the rear view mirror, and they’d have a hard time trying to catch up with us now.

“There’s smokes in the glove compartment, light me one,” Ma asked me.  I dug around the drug paraphernalia, old lottery tickets and a loaded 9mm pistol until I found a pack of filtered Camels and a lighter.  It wasn’t the clove variety of cigarette, thank goodness.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked, lighting two cigarettes at once, handing her one.

“I’m sorry about Bob,” I offered sorrowfully.  “I know she was one of your favorites, and she was always good to me.”

We smoked our cigarettes in a respectful moment of silence.  The old woman took a last drag then tossed the butt over the side.  “Bob had potential.  But the little lamb had her blind spots.  She gave her whole heart to Rufus and would have strayed from The Path.”  After a pause Ma added, “Rufus was a real dick.  But dicks can have their charms, I have to admit.  And he was easy to look at…a lot like his father...a long time ago.  Too bad he ended up just like Moses.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t no big fan of him either.  But I guess I’m sorry about him too, since I don’t wanna speak too ill of the dead.”  I tried to reassure Ma, “Maybe it was all for the best.”

“Who knows?” she shrugged bony shoulders.

“Must be pretty terrible having your house blown to bits like that,” I commiserated.

“Who cares?  That place was foreclosed on and abandoned.  I just occupied the farmhouse and basically squatted there.”  She shot me a sidelong glance.  “It’s Gorda Fortuna, nobody cares.”

“But ain’t you gonna miss the publishing business you established?”

Ma was scornful, “Who reads books?  Besides, I moved everything to a secure Web paysite a long time ago.  Gotta keep up with the times.”  She heaved a sigh.  “I will miss all my children who believe I’m a divine soul and bring me offerings and gifts, though.  Oh, I’ll miss that part.  But things will work out along The Path.  They always do, one way or another.”

“So, whattaya think happens to all the Reapers you left behind?”

Her mustache twitched.  “Oh, the ones who survived will be all right.  They were taught to take care of Number One, so that’s what they’ll do.  Once a Reaper, always a Reaper.  They just need to remember to ask, What Would Merman Do?”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m off to a town in southern Arizona called Bisbee.  Word is Bisbee’s where old hippies go to work a new angle.”  She took her eyes off the road to look me in the eye.  “But I work solo.”

I understood her meaning, but I hadn’t given much thought about where I was headed next.

“Sure, you can just drop me off by any on-ramp near the freeway,” I said.  “I never meant to overstay as long as I did.”

We drove on in silence.  After a few more miles we come up on a lonely set of ramps, one leading West and one leading East.  Ma pulled over, “I guess this is it.”

I unbuckled, “Yup, the famous fork in the road.”

She reached down under her seat and pulled out a pint of O Promise Me premium scotch whisky.  “One more for the road?”

She knew I couldn’t resist temptation.  We passed the bottle back and forth for a couple’a rounds. “Think our paths will ever cross again?” I asked her.

Ma swallowed hard.  “Wherever there’s a charity giveaway, I’ll be there.  Wherever there’s a runaway pulling a five-finger discount, I’ll be there.  Wherever there’s a youngster doing a food stamp scam, I’ll be there.”

We both broke out laughing.  Then she shocked me by plunging her hand down the front of her dress and pulling out a small crumpled wad of bills.  “Here’s a little something for your time.”  She shoved the cash at me.  I reaped the money and tucked the shortdog in my boot.

I climbed out of her Caddie and stood by in mute witness as the Grande Bodhisattva, the Avatar of Avatars, the Shemama of Shamans, Karmi Sri Boomrambis blazed down the road.

“Keep on plucking!” I heard her shout with raised fist.  And just like that, she vanished.

Moments later I heard a strange, loud noise overhead.  When I looked up I saw an aerial drone appear above a ridge with the letters T.I.T.S. emblazoned on its sides.  It swiftly flew in hot pursuit in the direction of the westbound highway, and I prayed for Ma’s safe deliverance.