Jynx watched a cartoonishly ominous condor turning lazy circles above the distant salt flats and swished the last few swigs around the bottom of her bottle, regretting that she hadn't thought to bring more. Even another two miles into town, sweating under the oppressive sun, was probably enough to risk serious dehydration. The sky was the right color blue, and so deep that Jynx felt she could easily fall upwards, out into it as if it were a pool of water.
But the sun pinned her feet to the asphalt and the coarse canvas of the coveralls chafed and clung to her in myriad uncomfortable ways so that she might as well have been trudging across town in a space suit. Squinting down the soft, straight slope northwards, running parallel to the town itself, she saw the mirage pooling like mercury in the distance. In cartoons, anthropomorphic animals were always fooled by that wavering quicksilver distortion. Tourists out on the salt flats sometimes fell for it, too, driving across the desert to catch an elusive pool of brackish water and running out of gas, finding themselves in need of a rescue.
A drop of sweat dripped from her brow to the lens of her sunglasses, a tiny liquid magnifying lens trailing a warped tail behind it like a comet, it dried away to a salt blur in a few moments. As a child of the desert, she was familiar with the illusion and knew it to be a result of air density differences due to heat, just like Mr. Englehorn’s floating paper lanterns. And it did look like water; the promise of relief beckoning, but still clinging stubbornly to the horizon. She checked the water bottle again, estimating how long she would have until she should knock on some random stranger's door for a refill. Taking a tiny sip, just to wet her tongue, she licked her upper lip and tasted the heavy salt.
In the distance, she heard the damaged exhaust systems of the other cops, the big guys that had overrun the town about the same time as those other three fools, but it was obvious that they weren't working together. They didn't even like each other much, it seemed. She hoped that Moondoggie and his friends' failure the night before would prevent the big guys from poking around the shop too much before she could get back there. She found some comfort in the sound of their exhaust. At least she could tell that they were still moving around and still looking. She picked up the pace a little anyway. Almost speed walking, and a little bit conspicuous in the pink coveralls, she didn't hear the white Aerostar minivan turning onto the street a few blocks behind her.
She knew that there was no guarantee that the little palm-sized chip did anything. Just because a monkey has a can opener doesn't mean it can open anything, much less start a car. Maybe the old guy picked up the alien equivalent of a stale French fry from under the front seat, and all she had was a dehydrated space snack. For just a moment she wondered if she should put the little disk in her mouth and taste it, just in case, but thought better of it. Meanwhile, the minivan crept closer, presumably giving Dr. Vickers time to plan his approach.
Jynx recognized the familiar sport-tuned glass pack muffler rising from the arhythmic cacophony of the others, but couldn’t tell which direction she was moving, or even whether she was drawing closer at all. As much as she quietly hoped that Ashley might swoop on her and pick her up, the chances of that were slim so long as she was still in the Arroyo Viejo neighborhood. There was no reason for her to be back there, and she was probably just on her way to work or something. Still, like a pet listening for its companion, she tracked the groomed exhaust growl of Mr. Ouija through the adjacent streets until she was confident that it was getting closer. Turning down a newer street, Jynx found sidewalks again and felt comforted by the open yards and some activity.
The white Aerostar minivan trundled up the street behind her, startling her a little. As intently as she had been listening for the obvious exhaust sounds, she had completely ignored the street traffic. Rolling up to the curb just a few yards ahead of her, Dr. Vickers leaned out the driver’s side window to call to her. “Ah, Ms. Nash! Rixy, er, Richard told me that you stopped by! I was so sorry to have missed your visit!” Stepping eagerly from the driver’s seat, Dr. Vickers completely skipped thanking her for finally waking his brother, looking slightly flustered but overly friendly, and just a little sweatier than usual. “Quite honestly,” he continued, perhaps recognizing that he might look slightly disheveled and therefore unnecessarily alarming, Dr. Vickers took a moment to smooth his hair back slightly and give his waistcoat hem a slight straightening. “I had been hoping to continue our discussion from yesterday.”
Just about every abduction scenario that Jynx had ever seen played out as a warning video started something like this. A creepy middle-aged man pulling over to the side of a secluded suburban backstreet in an unmarked and windowless white van with an invitation to continue a casual conversation raised just about every red flag. She slowed her stride only slightly, sizing him up. If he knew she had the chip, he couldn’t possibly attempt to take it from her, at least not out in the open like this with potential witnesses. “Hey, Dr. Vickers.” She glanced around the neighborhood, hoping to catch the eye of one of the neighbors, perhaps, looking for a witness. “Yeah, I saw your brother.” She nodded her head. “He seemed nice,” she shrugged. Hands stuffed deep in her pockets, she stopped short of where he stood; well outside of his reach if he attempted to grab her or something. She felt the tiny disk in her pocket, the coin that looked like aluminum slag but rested in her fingertips like a lead slug. She felt the cool sort of living hum of it and felt better just having it. Now, like one of the puzzles on the little shingle, she just wouldn’t feel right until she had brought them all together at last. She just wished that there were some ways to disguise it, to put it on a string and wear it, just in case he managed to catch her and rifle through her pockets. “Yeah,” Jynx said, squinting up toward the sun, “your brother pretty much answered all of my questions.” She shrugged and smiled, increasingly confident that the tiny disk was, in fact, the key.
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Although she seemed to lean back casually, Dr. Vickers could sense that she was coiled to spring if necessary. Abandoning his attempted line of polite banter his face grew slightly more serious. He was, after all, some figure of authority in her life, and for lack of a decent father figure, should suffice to command some respect. “I know that you have it, Miss Nash. You either have it, or you know where it is.” He removed his glasses and cleaned them, letting slip a long, slow, disapproving fatherly sigh as he did so. “If you take me to it immediately, I won’t bother to report this obstruction to the investigators with whom I am working quite closely.”
Miss Nash dared to roll her eyes at him. He detected the slightest hint of a smirk, even. She cocked her head to the side slightly, as if she were listening for something beyond the insipid noise of those damaged exhaust systems. Announcing its arrival, Mr. Ouija’s exhaust system snarled. The sleek black shadow materialized around a corner at the end of the block behind them, tires screeching like the tenuous call of an inquisitive and deeply protective harpy. “Yeah, we saw them last night,” Jynx smiled. “When you do see them, remind them that they owe Jeremiah beer.”
This time, when the glass pack growled, it was as much a predatory warning as it was to compression brake out of the turn, like hitting the retrorockets upon re-entry. Mr. Ouija careened menacingly down the block in just a few moments, streaking straight up to the curb beside them with a snarl and a few dramatic backfire crackles. From the open passenger side window Sir Pugsley sprang gracelessly, ejected as if a particularly vicious, but generally unthreatening overstuffed torpedo, who upon hitting the sidewalk in an enthusiastic run, turned a slightly twisting tumble, and then gaining traction, he barreled straight on towards his target, the duly terrified Dr. Vickers, who had never before been attacked by an angry pillow. The passenger door launched open, carried by the last bit of momentum. “There you are!” Ashley called leaning over the center console. She sounded only slightly annoyed.
Jynx, recognizing her ride, didn’t waste another moment, but scooped the snarling Sir Pugsley from the sidewalk and slid into the passenger seat. Ashley stomped the accelerator and feathered the clutch to lay down a fairly thick cloud of burnt vulcanized rubber smoke and a pair of thick patches of it on the asphalt as well, gaining traction herself and slamming the passenger side door shut with the acceleration. “Buckle up, hon.” Ashley checked her lip gloss in the rear-view mirror as if she might have just finished applying it, and swiped through applications on her cell screen, finally thumbing a map of Arroyo Grande with several little blinking beacons flashing on it. “What’s this?” She asked calmly, tapping the screen with her elaborately decorated fingernail, indicating a pair of blinking beacons flashing together, moving along the animated navigation map.
Jynx inspected the initials under the blinking beacon, “AN” and the blinking initials under a few others. “Is that me?”
Too preoccupied with losing the Aerostar, Ashley leaned back in her seat, adjusting the rear-view mirror as she skirted a tight corner at nearly thirty mph. “Yes, and me and we are here together, go on…” she waved for Jynx to carry on what seemed an obvious predicament.
“Why are you tracking me?”
“Well, obviously, for situations just like this.” Ashley continued to check her mirrors as if Dr. Vickers might still be on their tail. “What if you were kidnapped or something?” She screeched around a corner faster than her GPS map.
Jynx felt her stomach lurch with a strange vertigo as the navigation map lagged around the corner. “I'm fine!” She protested, even if Ashley's driving was making her a little sick.
“No, Jynx, you're not. You are clear the hell out here in Arroyo Viejo whilst Austin plays footsie with that little tart Becca DeWeiss.” She skirted a corner a little faster than the last, seeming to pick up some speed. “And at 'Common Grounds' of all places? That mini mall wanna-be franchise sells milked-down lattes calling them damn venti cappuccinos!”
Jynx glanced over her shoulder, confident that they had lost the minivan, although Ashley wasn't slowing down.
“That’s not a cappuccino, Jynx. I don’t think that’s even a latte anymore. That's a cup of hot milk with a splash of burnt bean juice!”
If Ashley was aware that she might have just saved Jynx from a somewhat freaky situation, she didn’t show it. Instead, she seemed a little preoccupied with the milk content of various caffeinated beverages. “Well, thanks for the ride anyway,” Jynx said, pushing Sir Pugsley’s eager tongue away. She reached between her sneakers for one of the half-filled water bottles tumbling around the floor of the passenger side. “Wait, are you stalking Austin, too?”
“I activated both of your tracking chips,” she shrugged, “in case we had to use them as homing beacons.”
Jynx drank deeply, just because she could, and shook her head. “I still have no idea what that is, Ash,” she confessed.
“That is totally unimportant,” Ashley said. “What is important right now is the artistry of the hand-pulled espresso shot and the lightest, fluffiest, frothiest fucking velveteen milk foam that the town of Arroyo Grande has to offer. I mean, does he not appreciate the artistry of the freakin’ pull or what?” accelerating out of the next corner, Jynx watched the heads-up digital speedometer display 45 mph on a residential street. “They push buttons, Jynx. That’s all they do; they just push buttons. It’s an automated flavored milk bar, that’s all it is.” She slammed her palm against the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “We’re one step away from being replaced by robots, the whole lot of us.”
For a brief moment, Jynx contemplated the fact that Ashley’s hair was in a mess, her make-up smeared as if she had been crying. She was in an old pale blue Arroyo Grande High hoodie and sweatpants. This might very well be exactly what she had been talking about, ex-boyfriend turned one-night stand redemption attempt. Whatever Ashley was upset about, it probably had nothing to do with steamed milk to espresso ratios, and probably more to do with some desperate need to reunite Austin and Jynx. Trapped in the passenger side of Mr. Ouija as Ashley made her way to the far corner of the Arroyo Grande neighborhood to start her gauntlet, Jynx only started getting nervous when she thought she heard Ashley stifle a quiet sob under the roar of the sport-tuned and glass-packed aftermarket V6.
As Jynx clutched at the seatbelt, to pull it on, she realized that she still had the saucer token clutched in her hand. Buckled in and crouching deeper into her seat, she readied for Ashley to officially announce that she had chosen to run the gauntlet. Opening her fingers slightly, just to peek at the tiny object that had caused the unexpected fuss, Jynx discovered that sometime during her conversation with Dr. Vickers, the little opalescent metal skipping stone had somehow developed a perfect hole, directly in its center.
