The Wooden Sea

Dreampilot

Just about everything that took place after that was strange, but strangest of all was what happened immediately after Floon killed Floon. Without a word the three of us adults moved into action with the kid looking on.

I went to the car and gestured for Floon Junior to open the back gate. He unlocked it and as soon as it swung open, we went back for the body. I looked at George and said only, “Get those big Baggies.” He went into his house and came back a few moments later (followed by Chuck the dachshund) with a box of giant, industrial-size garbage bags he used when he cut branches off his apple tree. Walking to the back of the car, he pulled out several and rapidly lined the floor of the trunk with them. Not once did I look to see if anyone in the neighborhood had witnessed our goings-on in the last ten minutes or even if anyone was watching us now.

We picked up the body, awkwardly maneuvered it into another of the shiny black bags, and hefted it into the trunk. Its plastic landed on the other plastic with a clunk and the sound of a lot of crinkling while we pushed and shoved it flush into a corner. Then I slid the murder weapon in next to the bag. Obviously it would have to disappear too.

That done, I put out my hand for the car keys. There would be no debate about this—I was driving. Floon gave them right over. All four of us (and the dog) got into his brand-new Isuzu and drove off.

We rode through town in silence. Once in a while I looked around remembering how different the place looked earlier that morning when it was Crane’s View of thirty years ago. From what little I could see, the Rat’s Potato crew had put everything back in its proper place. But then again I wasn’t about to stop to check the details, what with the serious cargo we were carrying.

George and Floon sat in the backseat, the boy up front next to me. Our silence continued until I realized, hey, I don’t having a fucking clue where to go now. I looked in the rearview mirror and checked the passengers to see if they looked any less confused than I. Both were staring out the windows with their hands in their laps.

“Hey.”

Blinking, I shifted my eyes over to the kid. “What do you want?”

He just happened to be holding the famous feather, twirling it back and forth in his little fingers the way anyone plays with a feather in their hand.

“Where’d you get that?”

Saying nothing, he jerked his head toward his shoulder.

“What? What does that mean?”

“I got it from him. The guy. The guy in the baa “

“How?”

“I just got it.” Suddenly he had changed from a chatterbox into Mr. Laconic.

“Give it here.”

He didn’t. Looking full at him, I snapped my fingers under his nose. “Give it to me.”

With a dramatic sigh he handed it over. “That big stupid jerk hurt my ear inside. It still hurts.”

“I bet it does.” Glancing in the rearview, I saw that Floon was watching me. I reached backward and gestured for him to take the feather. “You’re going to need this.”

He took it, gave it a look, didn’t say a word.

“You’ve also got blood on your cheek, so you’d better wipe it off. Now listen, Floon, there’s something incredibly important about that feather but don’t ask me what ‘cause I don’t know. The thing’s not what you think it is, it’s not even from a bird. It’s just something completely different. You’ll understand that when you examine it in your lab or wherever. That feather is going to play a really important part in whatever you do with the rest of your life, so take good care of it.”

“Fra

“I just do, George, so let me talk now and don’t interrupt. Next, if you have any money, buy stock in a company called SeeReal—”

“Cereal?”

“No, see—real. Like see with your eyes, and real like genuine. The two words go together as one: SeeReal. The ticker abbreviation for it is S-E-E-R. Buy stock in that company as soon as you can and buy a lot.” I tried hard to remember what else Old Floon had told me earlier in the library but I couldn’t think of anything. Only later did I recall “tancretic spredge” and cold fusion but by then the men were long gone in the direction of their next thirty years.

“What are we going to do, Fra

“We’re going to my house to get a shovel. Then we’ll go to the woods out behind the Tyndall place and bury the body. Unless you have a better plan.”

“Someone could find it. Those woods aren’t that large.”

“True, George, but the alternative is to drive around until we run out of gas trying to decide what else to do with our body. Then we can tank up at CITGO, hope no one sees what we’re carrying in the back, and then drive around some more. Does that sound like a better plan, or do you have another in mind?”

Silence.

“All right. I say we go with my plan, hope our luck holds and no one sees us.”

“Why are you even doing this, Fra

“He is?” Floon gulped, his voice climbing way up.

“I’m doing it because I have no time left, George. That’s the only thing I know for sure now. We have to get him out of here without anyone knowing what just happened. Please don’t ask me to explain it—that’s just the way it is. I have no time left to worry about what else to do with this body. We gotta dump it, and Floon’s gotta get out of here. I may be wrong but I gotta go with that instinct. There are other things way more important.”

“More important than this, Fra

“Much more, believe me.”

The backseaters looked at each other.

“Floon, why were you at George’s house just now?”

“Because I have invented something and I need the best person in the business to write the instructions.”

I slapped the steering wheel for emphasis while keeping eye contact with George in the mirror. “You mean he came to you out of the blue today, this morning, to ask if you’d work with him?”

“Not exactly. He called yesterday to say he was in New York and asked if we could meet.”

“That’s still too much of a coincidence. This whole thing ain’t no fluke.” “What isn’t?” “It can’t be a coincidence that Mr. Floon here was visiting you today at the same time as I came to the house with him. I hitchhiked a thumb over my shoulder, assuming everyone knew who I was talking about.

A flame of pain seared across the inside of my forehead forcing me to squint my eyes almost closed. It shot to the back of my head where, for an excruciating few seconds, it flickered on and off like a blazing neon sign. It stopped. But I realized I had better not drive anymore because if another big one hit there was a good chance I would drive this snazzy new car right into someone’s living room and solve all our problems.

When I pulled up in front of our house, loud music was coming from an open window upstairs. Pauline’s room. I wondered if George had brought her home from the hospital before meeting with Floon. Despite everything I had to smile. A yellow and green summery day. Loud techno music pouring out of a teenager’s bedroom. What could be more normal and reassuring than that scene? Her mother was in the hospital but she would be all right now. There was nothing to worry about. Magda would be home soon.

I stood on the sidewalk looking at our house, loving what I saw. I knew I must get moving but give me one more minute to look and remember, just one more. How happy I’d been here. How much I would have given to spend the rest of my life knowing these women day to day, getting older, watching Pauline grow up and into a valid and interesting life of her own. Maybe if I’d had more time I would have been able to figure out a little of what made my own life tick. Maybe not, but it wouldn’t have even mattered so long as I could live it here, around these people, in this town I loved. No matter what was about to happen to me, I had no reason to complain.