The Continuing Saga of:
”ICICLE BILL and Tommy Two-Head”

Chapter Twentythree: Desert Harvest

She had a degree of control over the allure she could transmit, but if a guy didn’t have any restraint over his animal desires, it was out of her hands. She thought it was pathetic how they were slaves to lust, it showed weakness. She sensed the young one’s eyes on her and she was aware of Bumperjack’s attention on him. Bumperjack was the jealous type, violently so. She pretty much had control of him, but there were moments when his temper was boundless. Rage and jealousy are dangerous when not carefully tempered; add heavy doses of testosterone, lust and greed, and you’ve got yourself a hellfire.

Molly determined it probably wasn’t a good idea to test Bumperjack’s restraint right now. Occasionally she’d flash the witch eyes to a stranger and they’d come wagging their tail and sniffing around. Bumperjack had the bulldog in him though and a touch of the wolf, he watched over her like a lioness over her den of cubs. She knew her charm could cause damage, so she was careful of it. Even a little dose of flirting might mean severe harm being done, she’d seen it happen several times. The first time had been an accident and she was completely unaware of what she’d done.

Molly had been a young girl still living with her mama in the fortune teller trailer of the traveling carnival. She had hopes of one day becoming the star attraction, to have the crowds cheering and applauding for her daring performance. Everyone in the carnival was always attentive and ready to teach the talented Molly any of the performer’s trades. She rode ponies in the opening number, walked the lower tightrope even as a baby, did acrobatics on elephant back...her dream however was to fly the trapeze. Just like her deceased father, she wanted to fly. He’d died before she’d known him and any time his name came up the conversation was quickly hushed and topic changed. What made the mysterious memory of her father even more tantalizing to the impressionable Molly, was that no one would teach her the trapeze. It was forbidden by Apollonia and no one dared to go against her mama’s edict.

Molly had heard the storied rumors that it was her own mother who had been her father’s murderer. How she’d chopped up his body along with the whore snake charmer who’d seduced the handsome husband of Apollonia and made a witches’ brew of them. She remembered the oils and potions but to her they were merely skin and hair treatments. Who could possibly argue with that conclusion? Even after days and weeks in the desert sun, Molly’s skin was soft as rose pedals, she never burned. Her hair was thick and shiny and soft, just like her mother’s. And look at her mama now. Even after all these years it seemed Apollonia never aged. She looked as young and beautiful as Molly remembered her as a child when she’d sing and chant the verses to her as she bathed her in the potent concoctions she made from exotic ingredients. She remembered the chants and stories. They were always about hypnotizing and charming men. How to subtly weave control over them without them even knowing. It became second nature to Molly as she grew, while other girls played with dolls and were interested in pretty dresses, Molly was developing other skills and pursuing far different interests. Her mind and spirit and essence were being honed and nurtured under the tutelage of the powerful Apollonia. There was something else there as well, something Molly avoided thinking about...a bloodlust. At times a heated flow of adrenaline would arise in her that seemed only able to be salved by the most brutal aggression. She didn’t like the feeling, she fought to keep it hidden and at bay. Yet, she knew it was there and it was terminally powerful and evil and brutal. It was her secret...and her own private curse. Molly had an intuition from where the curse had come.

The very first person Molly had exercised her powers of persuasion on was Stiffy the Clown. Stiffy was an old hand around the tents and he knew all the arts. When Molly flashed those fiery eyes at him, he agreed to teach her the trapeze, but only if she swore an oath on death that she would never tell Apollonia it was he who taught her. She’d sneak out in the wee hours and meet Stiffy in the big tent while the others slept. She took to the high wires like an eagle to soaring. After only a couple of weeks she was flying solo and jumping without fear. Then tragedy struck. By fate or misfortune or treachery, too much gunpowder was used when Stiffy was scheduled to fill in being shot out of the cannon. He flew through the roof of the big top over a hundred feet and landed directly in the lion’s cages. That was the first time Molly began to realize how much animals hated being caged up, because they seemed to take out all their pent up aggression on Stiffy. There was nothing left of him by the time they got there, nothing but his bloody clown hat. Apollonia was the only one that didn’t cry over Stiffy’s fate, and Molly thought it was a show of strength, but thinking back, perhaps it was something else.

Later, when Bumperjack’s motorcycle gang rolled through, Molly left with them. She was still young but felt it was time to strike out on her own. The only thing she’d ever known was the carnival, and even now she felt her horizons were limited. All she’d experienced since had been the strip bars Joe had her dancing in, and the little mountain or desert towns they’d travel to on a regular basis when Joe made drug runs. Sometimes they’d stay in the hotels of the Stateline Casinos and Molly always rented movies. She loved the escape of the movies. She always thought she could be a movie star. People were always looking at her and telling her how pretty she was. When she was younger she was self-conscious about her small stature, the other kids would tease her and call her a midget. Later she realized that it made her unique, people doted on her and everyone was in awe of her extreme and unusual beauty, especially guys. Therein lay the crux of her dilemma and the source of her glories and woes. How to balance the incredible power and not leave a trail of sorrow in its wake. She was only beginning to realize there might be a moral responsibility to consider. In the beginning it had been easy and everything was for kicks. Like a yearling thoroughbred pony exhausting itself chasing butterflies Molly would flex her gift for amusement. One time at a rest stop she was annoyed at Joe for his constant hovering. She never had a moment’s freedom with him watching her every move. When he disappeared in the restroom briefly, she tossed her hair ever so slightly and gave the eye to a passing trucker.

When Joe came out of the restroom he panicked when he saw Molly exiting the rest stop in an eighteen-wheeler. He didn’t even go for his bike, just broke out in a dead sprint for the truck. As it pulled onto the highway, Joe jumped onto the back. It didn’t seem like such a good idea after the truck gained speed and Joe found only a one-and-a-half inch foothold and the rails that served as door locks that he was desperately clinging to were so closely mounted to the trailer doors that he couldn’t wrap his fingers around. That meant he was barely able to hang on by the fingertips while having to position his feet sideways. In this precarious position he clung to the back of that diesel truck trailer as it sped down the highway at upwards to seventy-five miles per hour. When they’d encounter a small dip in the roadway, Joe’s feet would actually lift off the tiny ledge. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t make any maneuvers at all or else the tentative fingertip hold might slip. All he could do was try and not lose focus and just hang on.

By luck or fortune, the trucker turned off after a few minutes. Joe was stiff and shaking when they finally slowed enough for him to jump off. He regained his control momentarily and pulled the trucker from the cab as he was easing up to some gas pumps. Joe was torn between beating the guy to death, dousing him with gasoline and lighting him on fire, or tying him up to the back of his own truck and dragging him back to the rest stop. As he was pummeling the innocent stranger, Molly reminded Joe that the trucker was their ride back to Joe’s bike and unless he knew how to drive a big rig, maybe he ought to let the guy survive. From that moment on, there was little doubt who was in charge of the relationship.

Laying under a blanket of stars, Molly sometimes wondered where her life would take her. She didn’t know if she could stand Joe’s intense jealousy for the long run, or if the smalltime was her destiny. Other times she couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than being just where she was. The clean air of the desert, complete freedom and the open sky for a roof. Where would it all lead? Maybe it was time for a sincere mother-daughter talk.

As Apollonia stepped from the trailer to take in the night air, Molly approached and slipped her arm through her mama’s. They both took in full gulps of the desert air and gazed up at the endless sky. It was good to be with someone who had unconditional love for you, it was good to know there was someone in the world who felt that way for you no matter what.

”What’s to become of me mama?” Molly began, ”Sometimes I feel like there’s no limit to my heart, and other times I think I’m pure evil.” She told Apollonia about the violence she’d been a witness to in her life and expressed concern because she was willing to stand by and allow it to happen.

”You’ve seen a lot in your young years my daughter, you don’t react to it because you’re above it and those things don’t trouble you. You’re still learning and your nature is too wise to trouble yourself with things that are going to happen no matter what. There’s much sorrow in the world, you’ll have much more to see of it.”

Molly listened and thought. ”Why are men so violent? Why is there only sex and drugs and power that rules their hearts?”

Apollonia smiled. ”Men are children my dear. Drugs and sex and alcohol and power and money offer a false sense of well-being in them. It gives them the illusion of control and masks the pain of the deep need within their soul. Most will never find true meaning. Only by honest, deep and clear-headed inner searching will one find peace of mind and tranquility. It’s too difficult for most. Only when you know yourself will you find all you’re looking for.”

”I don’t understand that mama.”

Apollonia took Molly in her arms and stroked her hair. ”Yes my daughter, I know. But someday you will. In time you will.”

”There are other things mama.” Molly didn’t know when she’d have another chance to speak with her mother of this matters, she wanted more. ”I cheated. I was with another man.” As she spoke, Molly wasn’t sure if she was guilty or just expressing curiosity at her actions. ”His possessiveness is like being in a cage sometimes. I’m not even sure why I did it. I’d never seen a man with two things before, I was curious.”

Apollonia wasn’t judgmental. ”You make mistakes sometimes, everyone does. Besides, he doesn’t own you. You’ve made no vows or promises. You’ll experience many things and make many mistakes my dear, it’s life. Don’t live in the shadow of your past mistakes, learn from them and resolve to do better...move on.”

”It was my fault Joe left him to die mama. Tied to the tree for all the desert to feed on him.”

”Don’t blame yourself my daughter! He didn’t die. It wasn’t his time. If not for you he might have. And don’t speak of that place! It’s a haunted, evil place. Why do you think it’s the only tree in the whole desert that’s growing there? There’s no water there. How does it survive? It feeds on the blood of the evil doers that are buried all around it. Its life is from the death of the wicked. Only vultures and snakes and scorpions dwell there, you stay away. It’s a cursed place that Vulture Flats. You go there once too often and the restless spirits that roam the world in search of their killers will possess you in a way that makes your lover’s jealousy seem like a kitten’s purr. You’re a good girl my daughter, the people that come into your life are lucky to have known you. Their lives are longer and more fulfilled for even being in your presence for a moment.”

In the darkness and just out of earshot of Molly and Apollonia, Blinky Mo wrapped a worn blanket tighter around his aching shoulders. He’d been sleeping in the car the past two weeks, waiting for Heavy Griz to get well enough to travel. He watched the women as they gazed skyward. The beauty of the glorious canvass of stars was lost on him. He had been hitting the dope sack progressively harder and hadn’t slept in three days. He was keeping the car doors locked and winced at every tiny movement, real or imagined. He was certain that Bumperjack Joe was out to get him, the way he eyed him like a vulture focused on a lame goat gave him the willies. What was even worse, he’d begun to imagine that Gangster G’s restless ghost was roaming around outside of the car every night, clawing and scratching at the rooftop trying to get in.

G wasn’t his first kill, not by a long shot, but he was the only homeboy that Blinky had ever done fatal harm to and that fact haunted him. Blinky Mo didn’t lay claim to an overly introspective conscience, mulling over deeds done, good or bad. The way he figured things, he did what he did as he saw fit at the time and why try and relive it? G was a rat and he got what’s coming to him. Well, he was pretty sure he was a rat. Blinky flinched wildly, ”Who’s there? Who’s out there’?”

The first few days out in the desert he was cool. He spent the daylight hours daydreaming about how he and Heavy Griz would spend the hundred-grand they had come up on in Vegas. He figured they could buy just about anything anybody could ever want with that money. The fact it was blood money, paid out to ransom Ganster G’s sister never crossed his thoughts. Plus, they had a huge bag of premium crank they could turn into more cash, if there was any left. But hanging around in the sand and sun so long was wearing on him.

How the hell could it be so hot in the daytime and cold as ice cream at night? Then you got this evil looking biker dude that never talks, just gives you the stink eye all day. There’s the enigmatic gypsy woman that somehow brought Griz back from the dead after Blinky was sure that his heart had completely stopped. Blinky still didn’t understand that when Griz went into what appeared to be a heart attack, and soon after was still as a stone, he knew he was dead. He’d seen enough dead guys in his life to know what death looks like, and Griz was as dead as they get. Then there was Molly. Eyes that bore through you like drill bits, hips that swayed like palm trees in an ocean breeze. Many times over the past days he’d fantasized what being close to Molly would be like...

In the desert darkness his vivid imaginings took over his body and mind and Blinky’s dreams became his reality. It was suddenly unbearably hot and steamy in the car and he discarded the blanket, then his shirt, then the rest of his clothes. The last thing Blinky let go of was his last little bit of sanity.