Heat Wave

Heat Wave

Swoosh! 

Just as the sun peeked over the sleepy horizon, Woof teleported Tood to a large butte, Flatgap.  The arid land, tumbleweeds, and cracked earth was juxtaposed to the fertile and lush fields only a two-thousand feet below.  Tood placed his goggles over his eyes, readjusted his cowboy poncho, and put on his brown wool fedora.  He held a brown worn-leather backpack in his left hand.  The sweat drops dove off the end of his pointed nose.

Woof laughed at his friend, “Can you handle the heat, Dr. Jones? Or should I find Short Round?”  

“I should never have let you watch those movies.” 

“Don’t be so sensitive.  Look!  The Ark of the Covenant!” Woof teased.

“Woof.  Stop.  This is a big deal.  I have only two days to find my brother.”

 “I know, Tood.  You’ll find him.” He scanned the desolate area.  “So this is Flatgap.  Nice for a nuclear holocaust. “

“This is the region.  The actual town is eight miles southeast on the other side of Foot Lake.” He took out his compass and pointed in the right direction. “The lake is at the base of an extinct volcano, Crown Mountain."

“A lovely trip into Mordor.  Do you have all your water and supplies?  Did you pack your colt, your rifle and your sword?  I would hate for you to get stuck out here without some protection.”

“I brought the katana, my hunting knife, and my oak staff.  Why would I need a gun?  The first town is Wingo about three miles away.  There are maybe twenty people living in rundown shacks.  I’ll be fine.”

           Woof sniffed the air. “Indy always has his gun.  I hope you find what you are looking for.  l will meet you here on Friday, sunrise.  Don’t be late.”

“I‘ll miss you too.  Oh, by the way, Mrs. Hemingway reported to me that some  Junkers have spotted a purple giant in the swamp.  Would you and Will check it out?  The last thing we need now is..”

“Ogres.” Woof growled. “You know I hate that place, but for you, I’ll do it.  For a price.”

Tood rolled his eyes. “Biggest bone I can find.”

 “You got it.”

“Keep a close eye on Chico.  I know he is up to something.”

          “Both eyes. Good hunting.”

“Thanks.” Tood turned around, put his backpack on and headed toward Wingo. He had taken about five steps when he heard Woof humming the Indiana Jones theme song.  He kept walking and smiled.

  Swoosh. Woof disappeared.

  After the first mile, he found some wagon tracks.  He checked his compass and then followed the rough road.  About half a mile down, the tracks were well-grooved.  An abandoned roadside stand reclined next to the road.  A thick layer of dirt and sand covered the empty shed and its contents.  

As Tood got closer he read, ‘Last Chance Stand’, “Last chance for what?” 

Inside the shed, he found empty bottles, a pair of spectacles with no lenses, and some papers.  When he lifted up the papers, sand drifted to the ground.  One was an unreadable shopping list.  The second was a folded map of Orlando, Florida, circa 1984.  He discarded those.

“What do we have here?”

 The third was rolled up parchment.  A small dark scorpion climbed up from the scroll and jumped at him.  Tood reacted deftly.  He dodged the attack and the arachnid fell to the ground and skittered away.  He unrolled the paper.  It was a map of Wingo, Deadfish, and Flatgap.

The weathered map indicated he currently walked Scorpion Pass.  If he stayed on this road he would go directly to Wingo.  But if he took Short Cut Road, he could bypass Wingo, and go to Deadfish on the north side of Foot Lake.  While on Short Cut, he could take No Man’s Road, to bypass Deadfish and go directly to Flatgap in the east.  He closed up the map and stored it in his backpack.  

He drank a long swallow of water from his canteen.  The scorpion returned and attacked his leather boots.  He lifted his staff and splattered it against the hardened  sand.  He closed the water up and put it back on his hip.  He put a blue scarf over his mouth as the heat increased and wind kicked up some sand.

 “Wingo, here I come.” 

For the next mile, he saw no vegetation, only the blistering desert haze.  Finally he located burned up grasses and small weary leafless trees.  Lackluster green bushes slowly grew more numerous as he approached the outskirts of Wingo.  He lowered his blue scarf when the dusty trail disappeared into a rocky road.  Sporadic dilapidated cabins at the fringes progressed into neatly trimmed homes, lawns and  white picket fences. 

 He removed his goggles to comprehend the wonders of Wingo.  Organized alleys and cobblestone streets arranged the colorful cabins, neat saltbox houses, and mansions with large white columns and lush trees and flowers.

As he meandered closer to the center of town, numerous men, women, and children played and walked both sides of the street.  They seemed friendly.  The men tipped their hats to the stranger, but the ladies eyed him suspiciously.  The kids looked at Tood like he was a new toy, but did not approach him.  Tood found Wingo to be a growing town which resembled a 19th century cityscape.  Tood expected the people to be half-starved, poor, and thirsty like his previous visit twenty years ago.  However, they appeared to be healthy, well-fed and prosperous.  The large brimmed cowboy hats and boots worn by all were the only differences from home.  

As he passed the residential districts, all manner of small businesses and companies sprung up next to the bustling boardwalks adjacent to the wider busy cobblestone boulevards.  Horses and various wagons made up the busy traffic moving briskly up and down the street.  He stood amazed at the transformation of a poor dusty village into a thriving city.  

He read a large wooden sign on the corner of Main Street and Founder’s Boulevard:  ‘All visitors must register at the Sheriff’s office.  All weapons must be reported.  Have a nice day.’     

  “Excuse me.” Tood asked a man in black suit. “Good day, sir.  Could you direct me to the Sheriff’s office?”

“Sure thing, friend.  It is another blessed day in Wingo. Thank da Lord!  Are ya new here?”

“Yes, sir.  Came over yonder from Waydownz.  Thank da Lord.  Wingo has changed like a butterfly since the last time I climbed the hill.”

“Where are my manners? I am Nicholas R. Power, I own the local bread store.  Power Bread: Fresh bread everyday.  My friends call me Nick.  You can call me Mr. Power.  Just kidding.  What’s your name, friend?”

“Fred.  Fred Z .Davis.” Tood shook his extended hand. “Nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise.” Nick rubbed his scruff. “You know a lot has changed since I was a youngun’.  This whole area was a desert with scorpions everywhere. This street used to be called Scorpion Pass.”  He pointed down the road. “Fred, walk with me, and I’ll take you to the Sheriff.”

“Thanks Nick, it would be much appreciated.” He walked with the tour guide. “Could you tell me a little more about the history of Wingo?” 

“Well, I don’t know it all.  The changes didn’t really start here, but in Flatgap. About 30-35 years ago, Flatgap, Deadfish, and Wingo, were nothing but deserted towns, no industry, no crops, no shoes, polluted water, and numerous species of scorpions.  So one day this stranger arrives in Flatgap during a huge infestation of our little desert pests.  People are getting sick and dying.  So this stranger helps cure the folks, rids the town of the stingers, purifies the water, and teaches everyone how to grow their own food.  He even changed the name of one town to Fishrock.  That stranger became the Founder.  Thank da Lord!”

A woman carrying a baby passed them and said, “Thank da Lord!” 

“Nick, may I guess the new crop?” Tood asked.

 “Go ahead, friend Fred.”

“Corn.  Along with crop rotation.”

“Righto! You must be a farmer yourself.”

“I am.  May I guess the name of the stranger?” The visitor excitedly questioned.

“I don’t know how you would…”

“Ezekiel D. Featherstone.” 

“Righto again, friend.  There is Featherstone Avenue.” 

“Do you think I could meet the Founder?”

“Alas, friend, that is impossible.  For he went to be with the Lord, five years ago.”

 “I’m so sorry to hear that.  It must have been so sad for all the people.” 

Nick put his arm around Tood. “Do not fret, friend.  For the Founder, Old Zeek, passed on his knowledge to his son, Dudley.  He lives somewhere near Founder’s Mountain.  Thank da Lord!” 

“Oh, that is so great.  Thank da Lord!  Could I meet him?”

“Yes, you could, friend.  Only if you win the Founder’s Day Race. 

“What kinda race is it?”

“That’s the fun.” Nick explained, “It changes every year.  It usually has three or four legs: One has to do with the lake, the second with riding, the last one is running an obstacle course.  The contestants also have to do some target shooting during the race.”

“It does sound fun.” Tood thought, “Shooting?”

Nick stopped walking. “I don’t wanna brag, but I am the two-time champion.”

“Really.  Good for you.” 

Nick puffed up like a peacock. “Here we are, friend, at the Sheriff’s office.”

“Thank you so much Nick.  Last question.  When is the race and how would I get into it?”

“That’s two questions, friend.” Nick smiled. “On Friday morning.  After you register, they will send you to the bank for a currency exchange.  We use gold, silver, and copper.  From Waydownz?  You have stones and jewels, no doubt?”

“No doubt.”

“Once you get your money straight.  Headover to the Bonanno Saloon.  You can register for the race there.  One founder is the race fee.  Nice to meet ya, Fred Davis. May the Lord bless ya.”  

He patted Tood on the back and walked down the street. 

“Thanks again, Mr. Power.  Da Lord bless ya.”

Tood walked into the office and a little bell rang.  He stood in line behind a short bald man holding a burlap bag.  Two deputies were helping a dark-haired brunette lady in a pink flowery dress.  One deputy handed her a leather holster with a Colt .45 revolver.  She checked the bullet chamber, closed it, and then put the holster off her right hip.

“Thanks for cleaning it for me, Jimmy.” She said to a deputy walking to the backroom.

“Anytime, Ms. Mack.” Jimmy replied.

 Tood must have stared too long, for shimmering caramel eyes stared back.  She smiled and winked at him.  He cleared his throat and looked forward. 

“Next.” The bored deputy at the desk called.

Ms. Mack purposely walked by Tood and dropped a pink handkerchief on his boot.  He ignored it until he heard the bell ring.  He leaned over and picked up the pinkness and put it in his pocket. 

“Next.” 

Tood stepped up to the window. 

“Name?”

“Fred Z. Davis.”

“Where are you from?”

“Waydownz.”

“Marital status?”

“Widower, no children.”

“Purpose for your visit?”

“Relocation.  Business.  Farming.”

“Weapons?”

Tood removed his Damascus hunting knife and katana and placed it on the counter. 

  The deputy wrote it down. 

 The visitor then removed a small .22 caliber snub nose revolver.  Tood thought “Indy never leaves his gun.” 

The deputy looked up and started laughing. 

“Sir,”  The deputy tried to control himself. “Is this a toy?” 

“No.  It is a real gun.  I use it to kill squirrels and other varmints.”

“Jimmy! Jimmy comeoverhere! You got to see this…. thing.” He gasped in laughter.

Jimmy came over, “What the flip is that? My baby sister has a bigger toy gun?”

Tood remained calm. “It is not a toy.”  He opened the chamber and removed the six bullets on the counter.

“These are the cutest little bullets.”  The first deputy joked, “They look like beebees.”

“More like babies.” Jimmy commented and both giggled louder. The other visitors were also mocking the diminutive weapon.

“Is there anything else, gentlemen?” Tood reloaded his gun, holstered it, and hid it away. “Or can I be on my way?” He collected his knife and sword.

“Yes.. Sir.” Jimmy hit the first deputy.  He controlled himself and said, “ Mr. Davis, enjoy your stay in Wingo, Fishrock, and Flatgap.”

“Thank you.” Tood turned around and walked to the door.

“Oh sir,” Jimmy called.

Tood stopped but did not turn around.

“Please do not shoot any toys while in town. The children may get angry.”

The office erupted in raucous hoots as the visitor silently opened the door and walked out. 

Before the door closed, Jimmy said, “That man is so dead.” 

Tood could still hear the laughter as he walked toward the nearest bank.  He then discretely observed the townspeople.  Men and women, boys and girls, proudly wore decorated leather holsters with a shiny loaded rifle or pistol.  Every human and most of the beasts were packing heat.