Page 30 of Road Refugees

Tobiah crossed his arms in front of his scrawny chest. “Oh yeah? Guess what, geardo. I’m the one who does the financials. I’m the money man. I’ve flown down to meet with plenty of sketchy people just to get paid so you can eat avocado toast.”

Wolf crossed his arms too. It looked like they were about to topple each other with hip bumps. “Oh, it’s real manly to sit behind a desk typing, you fucking Krelboyne! And I don’t even like avocados!”

Lytton inserted himself between the two warring men. I’d seen plenty of disagreements like this over in Syria, especially between incapacitated broke dicks who’d seen combat, men getting stir crazy in their hootches. Me? Never. I was too in control. That was my problem.

Lytton held his hands up high. “You two aren’t even supposed to be in the same room together. Tobiah, give Town the cabin key. Wolf, follow him and Crybaby up to the cabin, scope it out for suitability. Passwater, can you go up and give them more intel?”

Lytton stepped out to talk to Passwater, and the two poindexters snarled at each other. I had no idea what their history was, but it was in my nature to soothe and mend frayed nerves.

I said, “Wolf. Our dogs haven’t had their lunch yet. We should feed them at the new house. Kind of make them feel welcome.”

Wolf knew I kept dog kibble in my sidecar—I think he kept some in his saddlebags—but it was funny the way he instantly stood down from the nerdy accountant once dogs were mentioned. “Yeah, good idea! You’ve got to see this place, buddy. They used actual pine logs to make the banisters.” He described the scene with his hands. “The plate glass windows look out onto a private lake. There are fucking heads on the walls.”

Tobiah wouldn’t give it a rest. “They’re called mounts, peckerhead.”

Wolf spoke from the corner of his mouth. “Shitstain. Yeah, Town, follow me. It’s just a straight shot up Lake Mary Road.”

“Right behind you,” I said, already starting the march to our rides, Linus trotting at my side.

We rolled together up the undulating mountain highway. Wolf rode point as we leaned into the curves in formation, Crybaby riding sweep at the rear. Already we felt in sync, in tandem, in cahoots with each other on a spiritual level. I didn’t want to sound like my parents, but there was some higher power at work, blessing our venture.

Wolf had trained Beetle to sit one up behind him, his paws on Wolf’s shoulders. It looked dangerous, but Wolf had explained it was actually safer in case he had to lay down his ride. Beetle could easily jump free of the accident. I considered it—it looked danged cute, too—but decided against training Linus for that. I wanted my angel Heaven sitting one up behind me, Beetle in his proper sidecar with goggles and helmet.

Wolf wasn’t kidding about the cabin. It was some outstanding structure, two shining stories of solid pine logs festooned with wrap-around decks. Elk must’ve eaten all the grass around the house because it looked mowed, all the way down to the lake. Everyone took off their lids in awe, and Linus had to bark to remind me to let him out of the seatbelt.

Crybaby ran his fingers through his feathery hair. “Holy mother. How many bedrooms?”

“Five,” Wolf said with pride.

Passwater said, “You guys’ve got it made.”

“Yeah,” agreed Wolf. Our two dogs leaped on one another, joyful at their freedom. “The master bedroom has ceilings two stories tall.”

“This is just a cabin to these guys?” asked Passwater as we headed for the front door.

“Oh yeah,” bragged Crybaby. “You should see what Lytton’s old lady calls a ‘rock’ on her finger.”

Wolf held out the keys to drop them into my palm. “Captain Spiro. Lead the way.”

So I did.

Living as I’d been in hootches or tiny condos, the log cabin felt more like a palace. I held my breath, wanting to thank the author of my existence for bringing me to such a place. Was this my reward for quitting drinking, yanking myself up by my bootstraps, and finding Linus to complete my life? He ran about excitedly, snuffling the dazzling wooden floorboards as though rooting out a rat. He led us into the kitchen, again all pine with a butcher block island and an old mint green Edgewood stove. Wolf went directly to the fridge as though he knew there was a paper-wrapped hunk of meat in the freezer and tossed it onto the counter. Linus sat, alert, like he’d just been looking for some frozen hamburger.

To be honest, I pictured cooking with Heaven in that room. Not having her cook, but cooking with her. I used to like making dishes, back in the days when I ate. Now I was working out again, I needed nourishment. So did she. She truly seemed to enjoy some of the tasks, such as working with the land and animals. She was the type to never stop moving about.

“Dog food?” I asked.

“Hell no! People food. I overheard Tobiah complain the last renters left some meat in the freezer. I was all over that. There’s a built-in barbecue out back.”

Passwater shifted some little packages around on the counter. The house was lit by so many skylights the tiny Ziplock baggies were clearly stuffed with dried mushrooms. “I figured we’d do a little test drive on these while I examine your fruiting chamber.”

“Right on!” cried Wolf, practically grabbing them from Passwater’s fingers. “Lay it on me, baby!” He scooped up the wrapped meat and clomped in his engineer boots to the sliding doors, dogs on his tail.

Crybaby was a little more hesitant regarding the hallucinogenic. “I guess we should know what we’re talking about, and trip at least once.”

I said, “I promised someone I’d take it with them.” I flipped the little baggie back and forth between my fingers before opening it to inhale deeply. Fungus. Definitely fungus.

“Who?” asked Crybaby. “Lytton?”