Distinguishing Features Part 4/8

That happened a week before Matt’s first visit to Notstalgia. Matt’s next visit was on Trivia Night. Jack, a monthly contender, lounged next to teammate Austin with a sour expression and little to contribute.

            Matt wore his ‘Parry Pounders’ t-shirt that night. It was blue with white print, from an odd-lot specially manufactured in Micronesia. On the front it had a tall vertical bar with a downward-facing crescent on the very top, and beneath, the phrase ‘Parry Pounders’. In small print across the upper back of the shirt it said: ‘Toodling Since 2020’, but that was no help in figuring what the damn shirt was all about. No one; not his friends or anyone in Notstalgia that night could place it. Rings and watches with AI would hum and squeak when pointed at it, but little else. Did the Parry Pounders intend to pound Parry? Or did they pound for Parry. Or did the group consist entirely of people named Parry Pound? Julie averred that the logo and title referred to pounding a parry in hand-to-hand combat and that the slogan on the back was a red herring. Her theory ended all debate, and thus was the most accepted. And that is one mental measure of Julie.

            Matt drifted over to the trivia table with the lowest morale and he, Julie and the anarchist twins talked a bit about his collection. He described to them a shirt that he didn’t dare wear there. It was a shirt celebrating the advent of the Benson-Jillett Hellraiser Missile.

            Julie floated off and Jack asked Matt:

            “Are you ready to join us tonight?”

            “For what. To rescue this John Doe?”

            Austin wondered what Jack was talking about. News was that John Doe was now ambulatory but still unresponsive otherwise. He’d been transferred another facility.

            “Nah,” Jack grunted authoritatively. “Just some general guerilla activity.” He glanced at his ring and growled a bit; then,

“You’ll profit if we’re successful. Question is: You got the grapes?”

            Matt looked down as if searching for grapes. Then he understood the gist.

            “I got the grapes.”

            “Lez go!”

The trivia entry fee was abandoned to the kitty and all three ditched Notstalgia, which perhaps was best for all concerned. On the way out, they were required to run the ‘tough question’ gauntlet. In this ritual, the answers weren’t considered nearly as important. Austin stayed silent, as did Matt, although there were many comments about his delightfully obscure ‘Parry Pounders’ t-shirt. All three slapped on their LED caps and Jack took the fore, fielding the verbal challenge thrown from the group outside.

            “Are you bringing positive change to the world?”

            Jack snarled. “Change starts with oneself. Tonight I change from the inside out.”

            Mum and walking quickly, Matt listened carefully. Austin gave them a: “Thank you!” from over his shoulder as they headed down the wide, pebbled sidewalk. “No further questions…”

            “Changing from the core!” Jack muttered loudly, stomping past the pair.

            Austin wasn’t sure that they should even be venturing out into the world, with Jack leading the way in such a mood. He had no idea what his friend was up to, and how Matt would work out. They walked through the warm, dusty May eve, into the spirit realm.

            Some could be seen just past where the mall ended at 5^th street, although their exact affiliation (i.e. good or evil) couldn’t be distinguished from that distance. The quality and tone of the light emanated- that nuance didn’t register yet. But location was a good indicator. The three walked along the post office side, where the crowd was thinner. The floating pillars of light there were clearer and brighter. On the periphery of the bus station across the street there were ruder reds and blues. Inside it, seen through the large windows, was a mixed grill.

            Now they encountered the bouncing pillars, close. They could just distinguish the order bracelets on arms thrust out or hanging, self-lit, and hear the benign benediction. A male voice.

            “Pleasant evening.”

            No challenge there as to what our boys were up to. Matt made out a shock of short blonde hair bobbing above the group, through the glare of the light. A tall female.

            “That way lies purgatory. Think I know that tall one.” Jack said, leading them south and out of earshot of the spirits. Matt gave off a loudish snigger, surprising the others.

            Austin thought that he might well have the grapes, whatever those are. It could be a profitable evening, indeed. There were now sirens coming from the east.

            Matt was certainly game, but he needed more. He asked Jack what could be revealed about the mission. Jack looked straight ahead as he marched and said,

            “Gonna score some wheat.”

            “Sounds good,” Matt whisper-barked. He was tired of corn meal and rice. Austin spun, matching Jack’s pace, backward. Matt hoped that he could live up to the attire. Now it was that floppy jungle hat and a rugby shirt with yellow and blue stripes, not tucked into those khaki shorts.

            “Not exactly stealing,” he told Matt, and Jack gave him an annoyed glance. The worrisome whine continued from the east. Matt just chuckled, dismissing the concern of the others and Jack and Austin loved it. They paused next to a church at the corner and saw light flashing down the street from the left.

            “Hm.” The other two waited for a suggestion from Jack.

“Split up, but shelter close?”

            Matt walked back three meters, ran up a short flight of brick steps along the side of the church and knelt near the top. He ducked a bit as he saw, along with the flashes, roving laser sights. He didn’t miss seeing, though, Austin walking slow around the corner and Jack darting in a mercurial sprint, working his own way along the front of the building. They’d both gone further toward where the mess would be when it arrived. Matt stayed put. He peered over the top slab of the steps and heard the purr of engines and the hiss of tires. He was reminded that there is always someone crazier.

            Namely, his two new-found friends, but not just them, It was a Commotion Crew leading glory the wrong way down 3^rd avenue, with a municipal escort bringing up the rear. You see, this crew had acquired some things recently and intended to make use of them. An automobile, gas-o-line and weapons. Matt saw the red burst of a laser sight on what had to be a groggy pigeon startled from its perch; then it was a crumbly shadow falling onto the intersection lit by the bright herald of the rest of the macabre parade.

            Someone appeared at the corner wearing a bee-keeper’s veil and a short skirt. A fortune cookie shot out of the phantom’s hand and burst against the strut of the derelict street light. The laser chaff floated about, then downward, with air supremacy over the entire intersection. A laser sight sliced across this absolutely mad someone on the corner and he sent another brittle, palm-launched cookie in the same manner as the first. That was the chaff meant for the crew’s frienemy drone (there’s one in every crowd). Matt was less dazzled and more aware, and, as he thought to duck, he heard a handful of cracks across the bricks and cried-

            “Jesus!”

            He slip-sprawled down the steps along the building wall and heard the chaff greet the drone like burlap in a blender. The laser sights went every which way at once. Hearing the cruisers approach, he climbed back up to the top slab with his head cocked, as if he could spare the right side, and watched the vehicle accelerate through and out of the bright! laser cloud made by the reflective chaff, and then the phalanx of cruisers, and then the municipal drone, damn the burlap.

            It was taking chances, but Matt was intrepid. He hopped off the steps and walked back to the corner. Austin was grinning just the other side, rolling up the brim of his boonie hat. Then Jack popped up and came down the sidewalk toward them both. He raised his arms.

            “Now they’re distracted!”

            “No,” a voice said. “You’re distracted by the world around you.”

            Matt knew that he didn’t say that, but Jack and Austin were looking at him. He spun around to face the glow.

            “Always contrary,” Jack muttered behind him. Now, a whine. “Are not. Are so. Are not.”

            “Something for you, Matt.”

            Matt reached into the glow and accepted one of the slugs that had been fired. It was still hot.

            “What’s tonight’s mission?” the spirit asked him.

            “Don’t know, rightly. But I’m sure itt’l be good.”

            They could now distinguish three in that glowing group, but Austin was still distracted. He was swinging his head about, watching the spirits and scanning the ground around them all for more slugs. The spirit leader continued.

            “Always take, never give.”

            Jack stepped alongside Matt.

            “What we take would be wasted otherwise. Wouldn’t that be against one of your…aphorisms?”

            “Fair enough.

The spirits then conferred. Austin stooped to the ground with an ‘oh!’ and plucked a slug from the grass nearby. Meanwhile, another spirit took the fore. A rarity.

“A parting platitude!” Jack piped up. The spirit giggled. Jack gaped into the glow.

            “Ez!”

            A hand shot out from the glow with a finger raised.

            “Yes.” She then half-laughed: “For every drop of jam that falls, a donut grows.”

            “Esmeralda,” Jack issued her name with a deep, loud sigh.

            The three spirits departed in the direction from whence they came.

“I heard she was under the weather,” Jack shared with Matt, and Austin, who was holding his cap light close to the grass, scanning for slugs like a crane looking for a mislaid minnow.

            “Eh, Austy?” Jack found little appreciation from Austin, so he turned to Matt.

            “You should see her when she isn’t wearing the LED belt.”

            Matt snuff-chuckled. Jack waved a beefy palm, half involved in Austin’s search, but still defending his sudden enthusiasm.

            “Then you can really see her. Admire perhaps. Where ya goin’?”

            Matt stopped mid-stride at the corner like the ‘walk’ symbol on the sign nearby when it was working. He turned his head.

            “Johnnie’s.”

            “Wha’d I tell ya!” Austin cackled, joining Matt at the corner. “He’s onboard.” The crime-fightin’ identity concealin’ laser muting mesh still flopped a bit from the brim of his hat, over his left eye, giving him a trashy mystique.

            The three looked both ways before crossing the one-way street.