Generations in Agony...Texas: Chapter Fourteen

14) and speaking of the hit man’s car…


Solo sat looking at the burned out husk of the hit man’s rental car. He had made certain that nothing would identify where the car had come from, even taking the time to gouge out the serial numbers where ever he could see one.

It had been slow going pulling the vehicle with two flat tires off into the desert. A couple of times, the loose sand almost captured his Buick, but he finally managed to get to the far end of the cuts and waited for dark to fall before he set fire to it, burning out the interior, the tires, anything that would feed the flames as the gas he had poured over all of it cooked off the paint. It still smoked as day break came, but he knew that no one would see it this far out. Most likely, no one would be looking for it anyway.

Hit men do not tend to advertise where they are going with a rental car. He knew this from his own experience. If this wreck was found, it would be chalked up as one more derelict car that had been brought out here to rot. The Mulligan’s would most likely find it and haul it back for scrap.

As he drove back, he came close enough to the hippie compound to stop and say hello to his newly found son. Jesus had taken up with the hippies of late. Solo could not blame the kid…

The place looked transformed since he had last stopped by: huge white cheese cloth sheets were tented over a few acres of marijuana. Practically everyone was under the sheets working around the plants. Solo even noticed a new irrigation system that had been run—by way of heavy rubber hoses—from the big windmill and tank over by the old Newcomb house.

When he pulled to a stop in front of the old place, he sat a moment and looked at the new paint job; it was a wild array of colors, yellows, purples, pinks and neon green with flowers dotting it here and there, along with words like ‘Peace’ and ‘Love’ layered over the walls and even a couple of the windows. “Holy shit.”

His driver’s door suddenly opened and he turned to see Naked Bliss, a tall, always nude, Amazonian blond woman, smiling at him with her arms held wide. “Solo! I knew you’d come back around, sooner or later. Come and join us, brother.”

“Hi, Bliss. You know, if you get any more tan, they’re gonna have to send you to Africa or something.”

She giggled and hugged him as he stood. “I’m so happy to see you. After all, we adore your son…” She held out an open palm. In her hand rested a square bit of blotter paper with a wild design on it. “Wanna drop?”

He shook his head and closed her fingers over it gently. “No, thanks though. I gotta stay cool, you know? Not any time for me to get back into the cosmos with you guys. I’ll take a rain check though, okay?”

“Sure, Solo,” she turned and started walking him toward the tents. “Everyone is working on the crop.”

“This is quite an operation you guys have going here.”

“Thanks to your son. Jesus came up with all this in a dream one night. He woke us up and got us organized. We’d be lost without Jesus.”

“How is he?”

“Jesus? He’s the most, man. Like, he sees things we can’t see, ya know?”

“He’s quite a guy.”

“He’s more than that, Solo. He’s Jesus.”

“Right, that’s my boy.”

They ducked under the first portion of the sheeting. Once under, the world looked very different: the sheeting cooled the air under it, while allowing the plants to draw sunlight. And, the plants looked as healthy as Bliss, tall, six to seven foot high weeds with massive buds bulging from over-burdened limbs.

“My father is here!” Jesus called from a few rows away. “Welcome!”

Solo hugged his son. Jesus was in a white, loose-fitting robe of sorts. His hair had grown a good deal more, and he had a dark beard. He looked like a Latino Jesus, barefooted and tanned, with a bright white smile very similar to his father’s. “How are you?” Solo said.

“I am right with the world, father. All is right in this place.”

Solo looked closely at his son’s eyes; they were wide-pupiled, almost black. “You’re tripping, I see?”

Jesus smiled. “Yes, father. Join us, work was never so much fun.”

“I’ll pass for now. I have things to take care of.”

“Important business? I thought you were out of that line of work…”

“I am. This time, I’m fixing things left undone. It may take a bit. Please, I wanted to ask you all to keep your eyes open for anyone new that comes around.” Johnny Newcomb had walked up and caught the last part.

“New?” He was smiling, holding his hand out to shake with Solo’s.

Solo nodded. “Pretty much the way I came up to you guys a few weeks ago. Most likely, they’ll be in a suit, probably look very out-of-place.”

Some of the other hippies were a few tents away, chanting something that sounded like ‘ohmmmmm’. Solo looked over there and saw Trip Daddy, the albino hippie, sitting in the shade with at least six others circled around him. All had closed eyes and crossed legs; all were chanting that same thing, over and over. “Yeah, these guys will look very out-of-place.”

“What do we do if they show up here?” Johnny said. “Are they narcs or something?”

“Not hardly, Johnny. But, they are not very nice guys. They might act like they are, but they are not. Send word for me if you see them.”

“How?” Johnny and Jesus looked at each other. “We don’t have a phone out here.”

Solo pointed to the old, flower-painted VW microbus. “That thing run?”

“Sure does…” Johnny smiled. “We use it to get supplies and the like. Not much else though.”

“That’s good, it’ll do. I’m staying at the Doc’s house—you know where that is?”

Johnny and Jesus both nodded.

“But, I’ll be around town most of the time. If I’m gone, leave a note for me, tuck it in the handle of the screen door.”

“You got it, dad.” Jesus smiled wide. Solo liked hearing himself called by that name. Six weeks ago, the last thing he would have ever thought was that he would come out here and find himself a father.

*