Ceremony of Flies Read Free Page B

the gross old rope.
    “Go ahead and get up off the floor.”
    He could move a little faster.
    “You got money?” he asks as he slides into the driver’s seat. He’s moving real slow like he’s going out to cruise by the Sonic on a Saturday night.
    So that’s why he’s helping me. It had to be something like that. I guess robbery is better than the rape-and-mutilation alternative.
    “Yeah, I’ve got some.” I don’t get up. It feels safer down here. And it’s remarkably roomy. Classic cars have that going for them. I think he’s going to ask how much, but he doesn’t. I don’t have enough to get too excited about. Maybe fifteen dollars in tips stashed in the pouch tied around my waist and the credit card I nicked from the Midwestern prick’s wife when I dumped the drink on his head. That should be good for a few thousand or so. They’re on vacation, after all.
    “Hey, Kitty, you ought to get up from there,” he says again. “If you act like you done something wrong, people are going to think you did.” He puts the key in the ignition. A little gold figure with a bald head and folded arms dangles from his keychain.
    I hope that charm has some luck in it.
    He’s right though. If I’m hiding and looking scared and somebody sees me, they’re going to know something’s up. I climb up on the seat.
    The car rumbles to life and as he’s pulling out and rolling the car toward the exit, he reaches over in front of me and opens the glove box.
    Whoa, that is not a glove. A blue-black weapon of deadly destruction lies casually in the glove box like it was posing as a checkbook or an old forgotten burrito. Right on top of it sits several magazines. He reaches past the gun and grabs a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He gives them to me.
    Not really my style, but I put them on. I pull down the visor and smile at myself as he pays for parking and we roll out into the sunshine as bright as a spotlight pointed right on me.

 
     
     
    The Joshua Tree
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Yucca Brevifolia is a treelike succulent native to southwestern North America. It is found primarily in the Mojave Desert.
    The name Joshua Tree was given to it by a group of Mormon settlers who crossed the Mojave in the mid-nineteenth century. The plant’s unusual shape reminded them of the biblical figure Joshua raising his hands in prayer.
    Good morning sister Mary
    Good morning brother John
    Well I wanna stop and talk with you
    Wanna tell you how I come along
    I know you’ve heard about Joshua
    He was the son of Nun
    He never stopped his work until
    Until the work was done
    God knows that Joshua fought the battle of Jericho
    Jericho
    Jericho
    Joshua fought the battle of Jericho
    And the walls come tumbling down

 
     
     
    3
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    The desert spreads like a moonscape, unbroken in its desolate sameness all the way out to the curve of the earth. Joshua trees wave their twisted arms at the sky, like hopeless beggars grasping at the coattails of rich bastards. We fly down the freeway, riding a tiny string of civilization stretched like a high wire across overwhelming wildness.
    I do not have a plan.
    I did have a plan. I had the casino job by day, so I could audition at night. I had it all planned out perfect. I would work as a singer, use a fake name. It wasn’t like the cops were going to look for me in Vegas for something that happened in New York. I wasn’t even the main suspect. They just thought I was going to help them find Joey. Like that would ever happen. Joey and me are, were, too tight for that. Like it would even matter if they found him now. It was better to get out of town anyway. Vegas was great. My plan was great, although I should have landed a gig as many times as I tried out, but it’s shot to shit, obviously. Now I’ve got nothing.
    Damn.
    I rub my sweaty palms on the legs of the too-big jeans. A billboard flashes past.
    A CCIDENT? I NJURY? L EGAL T ROUBLE?
    I probably should call. Might as