Manco peered into the truck. “You sure? Somebody’s been into that trunk.”
“Whaaat?” Cruz jumped into the back of the truck. He ignored the struggling, sputtering parrot. “Oh, mierda.” The two of them started pawing through the furniture, tossing pieces out the back of the truck, not caring if they broke on the unyielding pavement.
Two hours later they sat staring out the back of the truck, forced to admit defeat.
“I don’t understand,” Cruz was muttering disconsolately. “How the hell did they get out of the truck? It was still locked when that cop and I opened it up. How did that skinny bastard get out?”
“Maybe the animals chewed their way out?”
“I didn’t see no hole in the roof.”
Cruz dropped his head into his hands. “What are we going to tell them in Vegas?” He was running his long fingers through his straight black hair. “That a college kid and some trained animals made off with forty kilos of coke from the back of a locked truck?”
Manco looked wistful. “I got relateeves een Cheeleh I ain’t seen seence I was a keed.”
“Terrific. Except we ain’t got no money for airline tickets and I forgot to renew my Visa. How about you?”
“Just a few bucks for expeenses. But thee man doesn’t know when we’re supposed to show. We’ve got a chance to get away.”
“Without money?”
Manco gestured into the truck. “We steel got that beeg talking parrot. We can sleep eento Vegas and sell eet for plenty, then go straight to the airport.”
Cruz perked up slightly, turned to gaze at the bird in question. It stared back at him with an alarmingly intelligent eye. “What if we can’t get it to talk? We aren’t animal trainers like that kid.”
“Hell, it’ll talk. I know a leetle about birds like that. Give them some food, you can’t shut them up. Thees one ought to be worth a fortune.”
“It sure as hell can say more than polly wanna cracker. Maybe we get out of this yet.” He slapped his compadre on the back. “All right, Manco. We go to Vegas, dump the furniture at some pawn shop and sell the bird. Then we take the first Aeromexico south. I’ve always wanted to see South America.”
“That’s thee spireet, mon.” They rolled down the back door and ran back to the front of the truck, ignoring the spitting and struggling of the big green parrot who represented their ticket to safety.
X
IT WAS A beautiful beach, the kind of pure white sand beach that exists only in travel posters and, oddly enough, in the middle of New Mexico. Gypsum sand, powdery and canescent as sugar. It climbed unmatted ten feet from the water’s edge before the first palm trees appeared. Beyond the beach the water was as transparent as the lens of an eagle’s eye. It lay like glass over submerged beach until finally giving way to deeper water and the distant spray of surf on a barrier reef.
Jon-Tom looked down at himself. He was intact and unharmed. Mudge and Weegee embraced nearby while Cautious had squatted to inspect an empty shell. Eventually the two otters separated.
“Where the ’ell are we, mate?”
He was staring up the beach. “Far south of where we escaped from the pirates, I’m guessing. Of course, we could be on the other side of the world, but I’d say we’ve moved about as far as we moved in the back of that truck. Time of day’s different, too. Tonight we can check the stars.”
“I wouldn’t worry about no remaining pirates.” Cautious tossed the shell aside. “They won’t stop running ’til they get back to their boat, you bet. I don’t think it much matter anymore. Kamaulk was brains and Sasheem the muscle. Others pretty well lost without those two.”
“Then ’tis about time we ’ad a rest.” Mudge was stripping off his shorts and vest. Weegee matched him item for item, throwing her shoes at him and beating him into the water. Jon-Tom watched as they swam and dove with the agility of a pair of furry porpoises. Mudge rolled over onto his back with a sinuous motion no human could hope to match and shouted back toward shore.
“Come on in, mate. The water’s swell. Fresh is better, but this ain’t bad.”
Jon-Tom hesitated. He’d been skinny dipping with Mudge before, but Weegee acted almost human. Cautious was already trotting down to the water. Now the raccoon looked back.
“I understand. You humans, you shy because you ain’t got no fur hardly.” Then he plunged into the shallow lagoon.
Hell, Jon-Tom thought. It took him a few minutes to strip. The water was warm and refreshing, wiping away the sweat and dirt of the past several days, washing away the memory of the pirates and the tribefolk who’d captured them, relieving some of the stress that had built up during their trek south.
“Odds are that he sinks,” said Weegee, watching the human’s clumsy attempts to emulate the otters’ agility in the water.
“Not ’im, luv.” Mudge lay on his back, floating, letting the sun warm him. “’E does all right for a ’uman, the way ’is arms an’ legs are arranged notwithstandin’.”
They spent the whole day cavorting in the lagoon. The palm forest was full of tropical fruits and when they desired something more substantial, it took the otters only minutes to produce armfuls of edible shellfish. One particularly tasty mollusc was available in such quantities it threatened to permanently expand Jon-Tom’s waistline. Mudge called it a seckle. It was flat on the bottom and full of blue spines on top and when toasted tasted just like abalone. Cut and polished, the shell would make beautiful jewelry. That led him to thoughts of Talea, and home, and induced a melancholy the otters understood and did not comment upon.
It was evening and they were sitting around a fire Cautious had built on the sand. Recognizable constellations shone overhead, indicating they had indeed returned to the world of the otters a number of miles south of where they’d entered the cavern. Jon-Tom had tried resinging the alien song, to no effect. Clothahump had warned him that such special spells often worked only once. He wasn’t going to get back home that way.
Their clothes had been washed and now hung on a palm branch nearby.
Finally Mudge could stand the silence no longer. “Wot’s ailin’ you, mate? Thinkin’ about your ladyluv?” He pulled Weegee closer to him. Together the otters regarded their human companion.
“I wish she were here.”
“’Ell, she’s better off back in the good old Bellwoods. Clothyrump will watch over ’er. I wish we were back there. Ain’t no ’arm goin’ to befall ’er.”
“I’m not worrying about harm befalling her. I’m wondering if we could find that cave again.”
“I don’t see why not. Might take a bit o’ ’untin’, but I’m sure we could find the inlet where our playful seagoin’ friends anchored their craft and then work our way south from there. Why?”
“If it’s the permanent gate between our worlds that I think it is, it means I can go home anytime I want.”
The otter stirred the fire with a stick. Something that looked like breadfruit but tasted like sugared tangerine was roasting on the coals. “If that’s the case, why go all the way to this Screaming Kitty Muse place?”
He shrugged. “We might run into trouble trying to find the cave again. If so, I’d like to have an operational duar with me. Also, I’m kind of interested to see if I can make magic with it in my own world. Or just great music. But Talea’s my main concern. I love Talea and I. …”
