Our Love Will Go the Way of the Salmon (13 page)

“I’m a healer now,” Andrew says.

“A healer in a hearse? Shit, you are crazy.”

Andrew opens the passenger-toting rear of the hearse, slides the coffin back there halfway out, and throws it open.

The coffin is full of snakes.

Jesse jumps away.

Probably shits himself.

Probably maybe.

He shouts, “Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell is the matter with you?”

“They’re medicine,” Andrew says, an emotionless expression on his face, his eyes downturned as if gazing into the snake-filled coffin but seeing right past it.

Jesse puts a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, fear giving way to concern.

“You a Satanist?” Jesse asks.

“The snakes are medicine,” Andrew says.

“I asked you a question. Now are you a Satanist or aren’t you?”

Andrew slams the coffin shut and turns, emits some words from between fixed rows of sharp teeth: “I’m no goddamn Satanist.”

“THEN WHY IN THE DEVIL ARE YOU DRIVING AROUND WITH A COFFIN FULL OF SNAKES? JESUS MAN, YOU’RE LIKE SATAN’S DELIVERY SERVICE.”

Andrew removes a flask from his back pocket, hands it to Jesse.

Jesse takes a long drink, then another.

Andrew takes a nip then replaces the flask.

“Here’s the deal,” Andrew says. “The hearse and the snakes are separate. Do not think of them together. I needed to lift a vehicle to haul the snakes. Not any vehicle would do either. I needed a vehicle with an enclosed storage space. You know, so the snakes didn’t get out.”

“And a coffin was the first thing you thought of.”

“Right.”

“So why in the hell did you need to haul the snakes? Are you a reptile man now? Don’t tell me you’re a reptile man.”

“Sick people need medicine,” Andrew says. “I supply their supplier with the source.”

“Snakes.”

“The venom from the snakes in that coffin could save hundreds of lives.”

“Shit, when did you start caring about saving lives?”

“When I looked behind me and realized the road was paved with blood.”

Jesse points at Andrew’s boots. “Still is.”

Andrew looks down, exhales a prolonged noise like someone’s just played a very good prank on him and he’d be impressed and amused if he weren’t so pissed.

He’s standing in a puddle of the policeman’s blood.

Andrew says, “Those were new boots.”

“Anyway, that’s a long way for some blood to leak,” Jesse says.

“You’re right, it is,” Andrew says, then marches over to the cop’s charred corpse and stomps the skull in, muttering obscenities.

Jesse looks on, the mortified expression on his face betrayed by a glimmer of excitement in his eye, as if he’s missed this.

When Andrew’s boot breaks through the cop’s chest cavity and praying mantises spill out, Jesse turns and walks inside.

Some men are just so full of insects.

***

Andrew enters the farmhouse, bare-footed.

Jesse pours him a whiskey, tops off the glass in front of himself.

“So’s the pay good at least?” Jesse asks.

“Let’s just say you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I’m making.”

“Suppose that’s why you had to steal a car. ’Cause you’re loaded.”

Andrew takes the whiskey bottle and pours another three fingers’ worth, drains that one too.

“Money’s not mine yet,” he says, exhaling fire breath. “Paid in full upon delivery. This’ll be my first.”

“I wish the best of luck to you.”

“It’s getting lonely on the road, though.”

“That why you came here?”

Andrew leans forward, serious, locking eyes with Jesse, and says in a low voice, “I could use a partner.”

“What’d that cop wanna pull you over for anyway?”

“Speeding. Ten over.”

“Motherfucker. I should’ve known.”

“What do you say? You in?”

“Myrtle and me’re settled down now. We’re getting married.”

“There’d be a lot of money in it for you. Enough for you not to worry about money for a long time.”

“Give me a figure.”

“I’ll give you half of what’s coming to me for the trouble.”

“What’s coming to you?”

“How’d you like to feel up a seven-figured beauty?”

“You asking me how I’d feel about boinking a woman with, like, random mathematical angles pokin’ out of her, like she’s some kind of circus freak,” Jesse says. “Is that what you’re asking me. And if it is, are we talking seven tits or seven knees, or are these just weird growths or something.”

“Money, jackass. I mean money. Seven figures.”

Jesse is counting.

Andrew says, “Seven figures is a million. We’re talking a million dollars. Half for me, half for you and Myrtle. If you come with me.”

“All for droppin’ off some snakes?”

“It’s a long drive. It’s dangerous. But these people need their medicine.”

“What kind of illness do they got anyway?”

Andrew refills their glasses with whiskey and says, “You ask a lot of questions for a man about to make a lot of money.”

Jesses pushes the whiskey away.

“I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m not your man.”

Andrew slides the whiskey back in front of Jesse.

“I wouldn’t be here if you wasn’t my man, Jesse.”

Jesse seems to mull this over.

Snakes.

Money.

Love.

Death.

Whenever faced with a tough decision, Jesse’s father would tell a little story. He’d say in the center of the earth there’s a grinning angel, and if you ever chance to meet the grinning angel, she’ll show you that all life is precious, then as your eyes balloon out, filled with the knowledge of all that is holy in life, the angel will rip your heart out and eat it in front of you, grinning all the while.

And you have to ask yourself, is it worth it?

That’s the question to ask in times like these.

The million dollar question.

Is it worth it?

Jesse thinks it is. “I’m in, but only under one condition. Myrtle comes along.”

“Hell no,” Andrew says.

“Then I’m out.”

“You were never in.”

“Now I’m double outs.”

“Fine. Myrtle can come, but the profit split remains fifty fifty.” Andrew raises a toast to Jesse. “To partners.”

“To partners. And five-hundred motherfucking thousand dollars.”

***

Car lights shine through the window.

The police cruiser has finally burned itself out.

Andrew and Jesse are playing a song on guitar and harmonica, crooning in harmony, drunk as all get out, as Myrtle walks in through the front door.

“Looks like you boys started without me,” she says. “The save-the-dates turned out just fabulous.”

Myrtle tries to show the save-the-dates to Jesse, but he waves them away.

“Myrtle,” he says, “we’re gonna be millionaires.”

“Beg pardon.”

“Well, okay, not quite millionaires. But thousandaires, for sure. We’ll never worry about money for a long, long time. You can have a brand new wardrobe. Anything you want, you can have.”

Myrtle pours herself a glass of whiskey and shuffles through the save-the-dates, her forehead creased in concern. “And how is this, my sweet love?”

“I’m helpin’ Andrew with a little job. A big job. We’re partners again.”

Myrtle shoots Jesse the no-you-just-didn’t glare.

“I thought you’d put that life behind you, Jesse,” she says. “Shame on you, Andrew, for tempting him.”

Andrew twists the harmonica around in his fingers, as if nervous. “I apologize for treading on your turf, Myrtle. Really, I do. But this is a big job.”

“Half a million each,” Jesse says, “half a million.”

“Jesse’s right. And I want to let you two in on it.”

“Why?” Myrtle asks, suspicious.

“Because Jesse’s always had my back. He and I, we’ve always come out of everything alive.”

Myrtle nods, admitting this truth. “So what’s the job? Hauling dead bodies? Drugs?”

“Snakes,” Jesse says.

“Snakes?” Myrtle pretty much shouts.

Andrew nods. “Medicinal snakes. For sick people.”

“These snakes are worth a fortune. I saw ’em with my own eyes. All we gotta do is…well, you tell ’er, Andrew.”

“We deliver the snakes to the doctors, and then you two drive on home, half a million dollars richer.”

“Why are doctors ordering snakes from you?” Myrtle asks, still sorting through the save-the-dates, as if she can’t get over something, some wrong feeling.

“I’m just the delivery boy,” Andrew says, and then he grins. This is the question he’s been waiting for. “You see, there are some very sick people in this country who need a lot of help, but the government don’t want them to get better, so some very kind-hearted doctors have taken it into their hands to heal these sick people.”

“With snake venom,” Jesse says.

“With an antidote made from snake venom, yes. That is correct,” Andrew says.

Myrtle wants to know what it is about sick people needing snake venom. How come she’s never heard of them before? Is this sickness that’s got people needing snakes widespread and time-tested, or is it something new?

And Andrew, he has all the answers. “From what I hear it’s pretty localized, up in the Pacific Northwest. The government is very hush-hush. They won’t allow a single word about it to be mentioned in the news. Now I can’t tell you specifically where the dropoff will take place, but just so you know I ain’t bullshittin’, I’ll tell you it’s in Oregon.”

Jesse snaps his fingers. “Maybe that’s it. The disease—snake venom cures it ’cause they don’t got no snakes up in the cold weather states.”

“They have snakes in the Pacific Northwest, you nitwit. Just not these snakes, and these snakes is what they need.”

“Will we have to get near the sick people?” Myrtle asks.

“Absolutely not,” Andrew says. “We deliver the snakes to a perfectly sanitary medical facility and they fork over a big check. Simple as that. I figure we can drive to Oregon in two, three days tops, barring unforeseen circumstances.”

“Like what?”

“Come on, Myrtle, quit with all the questions,” Jesse says.

Andrew’s unperturbed, though. He says, “Like if the government is cracking down on folks trying to bring these medicinal snakes into Oregon.”

“Oh god.” Myrtle is just so astonished. “I can’t believe they’d keep the sick people from their medicine.”

“You know our government. They’d piss in their neighbor’s toilet after fucking their neighbor’s wife, but they wouldn’t spare a drop of piss to soothe the burns of a man on fire.”

Jesse leans forward. “So, Myrtle. What do you say?”

She finally sets down the save-the-dates and smiles the smile that set Jesse’s heart aflame when they first met. She says, “When do we start?”

“As soon as we sleep off this hangover,” Andrew says.

“Hangover? Maybe for your pansy ass,” Myrtle says, and she pours them all another round of drinks.

***

Good morning, sunshine.

There’s a knock on the bedroom door.

Jesse and Myrtle stir in bed.

Pained, squint-eyed expressions cross their faces as the knocking recurs, shave-and-a-haircut style.

Andrew calls from the other side of the door, “Time to get moving. Up and at ’em.”

Jesse sits up, shakes Myrtle. “Let’s go, little honeybee. Time to get rich.”

Myrtle pulls the covers over her head.

“Did I get hit by a train last night?” she says.

“That was just my penis, baby.”

“If I had a dollar for every time you said that.”

“You wouldn’t be half as rich as you’re gonna be. So come on, get up.”

***

Andrew and Jesse are in the living room, looking through the window at the hearse.

Myrtle is in the bedroom, packing for the trip like they’re going on vacation.

“Isn’t a hearse just a bit suspicious?” Jesse says.

Andrew frowns. “You got a better idea?”

“Yeah, actually I do.”

***

The garage door opens.

Inside: an ice cream truck.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Andrew says, stepping inside the garage.

“Bought it off some bean for next to nothing. He was in a hurry back to Mexico. I been fixing her up. Built a new engine and everything. She runs real good. Fast as hell.”

Andrew throws open the back doors of the ice cream truck, inspecting the space, weighing his options.

“You got the pink slip?” he asks.

“Sure do. It’s even insured.”

Andrew nods approval. “More than I can say about the deathmobile back there. Alright, let’s load the coffin and hit the road.”

Jesse, stoked, climbs into the ice cream truck. Andrew climbs in the back, shuts the doors, and Jesse backs the truck out of the garage, backing up to the rear of the hearse.

They hop out and proceed to attempt transferring the coffin full of snakes from the hearse to the ice cream truck.

Their attempts are met with failure.

“These snakes sure are heavy,” Jesse says.

Andrew grunts his agreement. “I hear their venom weighs ten times more than water.”

“Fat ol’ legless venom hogs. Shoo-wee.”

Finally, they give up.

“I’m gonna go find Myrtle. She’s got these workout videos. Damn things have made her stronger than an ox.”

Andrew wipes the sweat from his brow. “You do that,” he says, panting.

“Myrtle,” Jesse calls as he steps onto the porch.

Myrtle appears in the doorway, her face done up all pretty, her stockinged legs rising up into a sea-foam green dress like two candles stuck in a birthday cake. In each hand she holds a rectangular suitcase made of leather that’s been cracked and beaten by time.

Myrtle smiles at Jesse and instead of asking her to come help move the coffin full of snakes, Jesse says, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says. “Now what is it you need me for.”

“It’s the snakes. They’re heavy. Venom weighs more than water.”

Myrtle purses her lips into a smile. “It does, does it?”

Together, the three of them get the coffin loaded into the ice cream truck.

Andrew retrieves his single bag from the hearse and Jesse loads the two suitcases into the back.