A Few Excerpts
Chapter 1 - December 1976
The second time Lou arrived in Eugene it was well past midnight and, like the first time, he didn’t know what to expect. He trudged up to his shared second-floor rental, squeaked open the door, and flicked on a living room lamp.
The place looked unchanged—Malcolm’s dark navy peacoat on a chair, a bowl of tortilla chip remnants next to the rotary phone, the aluminum pot still catching that slow drip in the corner—yet something felt off. Lou shed his scruffy orange backpack, lighter now in content, heavier with miles. Was it the air, somehow different than before? He caught his pack in the crook of his arm and lowered it onto the aged, worn sofa. Or had Malcolm found a new roommate already? Lou dropped his wide-brimmed hat on top of the backpack, scratched alive his matted dirty blond hair, and unsnapped his jacket. That’s it, a new smell in the air.
A small voice spoke.
“Hello.”
Lou jerked his head around. A petite woman of about his age, twenty-three or four, stood at the foot of the short hallway to the bedrooms. She wore granny glasses, a long nightgown over her pajama bottoms, and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.
“Hello,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lou. I live here.”
“I’m Anne. I live here.” She snugged her nightgown tighter. “Well, goodnight.” The woman turned and disappeared down the hallway.
Lou nodded with a gentle grin. So, Malcolm had found a roommate. Not a great surprise, given the drift of life in Eugene. People came and went, changed and vanished. And what’s next for him? Lou donned his hat again, hoisted the backpack onto one shoulder, and headed to his small room and the unmade futon. For now, a notion of protracted sleep. Later, clarity.
Purpose of Life...
At the final door in the hallway, Lou decided to knock first. No answer came. He opened the door to a dim room. Candles along the edge of the floor cast a fluttering light on the walls. Different scents arose from a blend of burning incense: cinnamon, rose, lavender. On the floor sat eight people, cross-legged or on their knees, encircling a lone figure lying shirtless on an Indian rug, hands folded upon his chest. The prone man, eyes shut, long hair fanned out beneath his head, intoned a prolonged hum.
“…mmmmmmmmmmm.”
The room became silent. Lou noticed Honeysuckle sitting with the others, now wearing a circlet of flowers instead of the cat mask. He realized he had seen most of them around the house, these young female devotees of Ram Jam Bliss. Not knowing what was coming next, or if it was okay to speak up, Lou chose discretion. He entered the room, eased the door closed, and drew near Honeysuckle. He stopped when one of the followers spoke.
“Guru Ram Jam?” The young woman paused, waiting for acknowledgement. Everyone waited.
“Ram Jam listens,” said the man on the rug. Only his lips moved.
“Guru Ram Jam, what is the purpose of life?”
More waiting. Lights fluttered. Scents rose. Lou froze, his breathing stilled. Everyone was motionless. The loudest sound was that of the flickering candles.
Ram Jam Bliss took a breath. “The impeccable purpose of life…” All bowed forward to hear. Hearts paused. The candles held their tongues...
Who's Billy Shears?
“Listen up. My name is Roscoe Driscoll, Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have probable cause to believe that a federal fugitive is in this building. (He shot a glance at Blitzman.) All of you are wearing makeup and in disguise. So, let’s make this easy before it gets hard.” Driscoll raised his voice. “Which one of you clowns is Billy Shears?”
Headley called in his patrolmen from the other room. The clowns fidgeted and frowned, their playful nature crushed by Driscoll’s hard scowl. Lou stood at the end of the line, his heart pounding, droplets of sweat smearing down his greasepaint. He looked at the other clowns. Their broad, happy smiles appeared macabre over their anxious faces.
“Five seconds to step forward, or you’re all going to jail! Who’s Billy Shears?”
The patrolmen positioned themselves behind the lineup.
Lou gulped. He couldn’t let anyone else suffer for his actions. And he hated the prospect of getting locked up. Especially not now. Not if Jax was waiting for him. But what about Billy? Had he given his innocent friend enough time? Too late. Time had run out.
Lou tried to swallow through his dry throat. He took a breath. He closed his eyes. He lifted a ridiculous shoe and began one step forward.