TWENTY-THREE - Resurrection Song

“She was. Dead.” said Arous.

“I know,” the proprietress voice was high.

They listened to the wind pick-up outside.

“I mean, I’ve seen enough dead Momo in my day. I know a dead Momo when I see one,” said the proprietress.

One of the Desperados came to the door and banged on it.  The proprietress ignored him.

“I’ve heard . . . I’ve heard about . . . Stories. Like when you are a child. Nobody believes them. . . .  Are you a Hikeuh?”

Arous wasn’t sure how to answer.

“You look strange enough. I mean, you don’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen except on E-Wall.”

“You’ve seen someone like me on E-wall?” said Arous.

“Yeah, the First Lady.  Ephor Ricci’s Idelle.  But I haven’t seen her in awhile.  She got sick but I think something else happened.”

“That’s my mom,” Arous said. “What do you know about what happened to her?”

“Girl! You want to talk about random City celebrity Idelle gossip when what you just did . .  . what you just did!”  She was breathing heavy.
            “I need to find my mom.”

“You need to be careful!  People around here don’t practice magic or take to those who do.  And you don’t exactly look normal.”

Arous couldn’t respond.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad person or nothing. But if those boys see that Momo alive they are going to think something and you might not make it out of here. A few of them just ain’t nice.”

“The two of them, the man and woman, seemed okay.”

“Yeah, well I never seen them in here before.”

Arous jumped down off the counter.

“Can she get up?” the proprietress asked.

“Yeah,” said Arous.

“We need to get her out of here before anyone sees her . . . alive.”

Arous nodded at the Momo and she stood.  The proprietress had begun to walk to the back of the diner.

“There’s a motel right next door.  You go over there and tell those old folks I sent you.  I’ll have a couple of Sasquatch carry your hoveh over to the motel when it’s good and dark.  You don’t want to leave it here. I’ll have them take it around back. Those Desperados are mostly no good, but they don’t have anything to do with the Motel. Don’t know how they stay in business over there.”

The Momo had already walked out the back door, chainless.  She was staring up into the sky.

“Look, girl, just be careful where you practice that magic. Some people . . . some people just don’t believe in the Bowl and all that Myth. Other people just plain don’t like it. And people in the City,” she paused and didn’t finish that though. “Look, Darlin. I’m sorry if I’m the one that has to break it to you,” she touched Arous’ arm. “I’ll have a sandwich sent over to you later or something. On the house. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

She shut the back door of the diner and Arous was left alone.

Arous turned around to ask the Momo if she wanted to share a room with her, but the Momo was already running across the preamble to the dessert; her coat glistened in the moon, just like it should have.

It had turned cold since the sun had gone down.  A crisp breeze followed Arous across the lot to the motel. The colors of the lobby were muted much like those in the diner next door. The carpet matched the color of the sand outside.

 A withered yet bright-faced old man stood at the counter holding out a clipboard to her. He seemed familiar.

“Sign your name . . .”

She signed a small screen.

“Cash or dot?” he asked.

“Uh, dot.”

“Then slide your dot into this reader.” He pointed at a box with a slot on the top. She put her dot in the slot.  It chirped an amount which she verified.

“Voice confirmed.  Amount withdrawn. Thank you for your patronage.”  The dot popped back up through the slot where she could take it back again.

“We’re not fancy enough to have one of those tattoo readers. You know they keep saying they are going to make it over here with those DNA readers but I don’t think they’ve made it to Canadí yet. Maybe they won’t ever.”

He smiled and gave her a key the number 5 on it. A light timbre resounded in his voice.

“Number 5.  You’ll have to count two down from the corner. Number’s fell off the door.”

She walked to number 5 and unlocked her room.  A bright, grass green spread decorated the bed and verdant cacti coved faded wallpaper.  In the bathroom, little green soaps in the shape of cacti sat in a dish on the sink. A complimentary cactus toothbrush welcomed her from its holder. The urge to be soaking wet over-powered her fatigue.

After showering, she flopped onto the bed.  She laid back, a stiff corpse, pulling the burnt yellow blanket up from the foot of the bed. 

            She didn’t hear the door knob the first time it rattled.

            “Miguel, who’s that man standing outside her room?” asked Edalwit.  “He doesn’t look friendly.”

            “Don’t worry about that,” I said.  “She’ll soon be in REM sleep.  See if you can get in.”
            “I hate going in through dreams.  Please.” Edlawit held out her hands.

TWENTY-TWO - You Killed My Momo

The acrid smell of burning hair made Arous retch.

The Desperado was about to shoot the Momo again when the two watchful Desperados from the booth incapacitated him.

“Where’d you get that new toy, Johnny Ringo?” said one of the two watchful Desperados.

“Goodnight,” said the female one as she clobbered him on the back of the head.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” screamed the proprietress. “No lasers in here.”

The Momo was half draped over the bar and with a last fading of energy in her eyes she slumped down onto the floor.

“Johnny boy, if you killed my Momo, I swear!  I can’t keep a Momo for you guys shooting up the place,” she said to the moaning Desperado as he rolled on the floor. “What did you guys do to him?”

They tipped their hats to her and began rounding up the rest of the Desperado in the diner and throwing them out the door.

The Momo’s target was on his haunches all the way to the wall. He had seen the sparks fly when the Momo smashed her anklets like stale sugar candy.

“She almost killed me,” he said.

“Be a service to the world, you sleaze bag,” said the proprietress.

Arous had started moving toward the Momo. She jumped over the counter and stumbled.  She hadn’t realized it yet but the dry air was zapping her energy.

“She’s dead,” said Arous.

“Now, that’s the second one this month! You guys out of here. Get. Out!”

As Arous leaned over the Momo, several of the Desperados were able to get a good look at her before they were flung out of the diner.

“Don’t forget, Midas,” the proprietress said to the two Desperados still cleaning house.  The Desperada lifted him up by the scruff of his neck and carried him out.  At the door, her companion tipped his hat to Arous and to the proprietress and was gone. 

Arous was stroking the Momo’s face.

“Girl, I wouldn’t touch her, she’s dirty,” said the proprietress.

Arous had already started to sing before the proprietress even finished her sentence. The proprietress stopped, mesmerized for a moment by the song.

“What?”the proprietress said.

Arous paid no attention to her; she repeated a tune that she had heard Priscilla sing a million times.  Arous closed her eyes.  Tears began to stream down her face.

The Momo exhaled long and loud.  Arous began to sob. 

The Momo stopped breathing.

“Oh, please,” said Arous.  “I know you were trying to help me. This is the least that I can do.”

Arous continued to sing, bent down to the Momo’s face until her lips almost touched the Momo’s.  She breathed her song of life and healing into the Momo.  The shaggy chest lifted.  Color seemed to come back to her hairless face and a gold hue infused the hair on her body.

“Thank you for coming back from the Mist,” she said.

The Momo’s eyes fluttered wide open. She made a sort of mewing sound, like the soft chirp that a cat makes when it’s happy to see you. She tried to sit up.

“Wait,” said Arous. “Can you give me a glass of water for her?”

The proprietress filled a glass at the faucet.  Coming only as close as was necessary, the proprietress leaned over the Momo and handed Arous the glass.  The proprietress’ hands trembled so that she shook most of the water out of the glass. She stepped back again, a little further away this time.

“Thank you,” said Arous.

She held the glass in her hand for a minute.  Traces of fog went from her fingertips into the glass, swirling around and disappearing. She poured the water into the Momo’s mouth, helping her to drink it by caressing her face.

“Now you can sit up.”

No sooner had the Momo sat up than Arous heard a jingle of keys and sliding bolts at the door.  The proprietress had locked the front door.  She walked closer to them but kept the bar between them and her.  Arous stood up, jumped up to sitting on the bar.

The proprietress stammered, “She was dead.”

TWENTY-ONE - the Momo

“I got a place you can sleep,” he said.

“Midas, leave her alone,” said the proprietress. 

“I’m not doing nothing,” he said.

He ate a few bites of his greasy food. Arous could hear the Momo behind the counter purring. 

“Pay attention, Arous,” I told her for the fifth time.  She sat criss-cross-apple-sauce on her pillow but couldn’t stop moving and her eyes just flitted from place to place.  I wished, more than once, that she could sit as still as Edlawit who sat upright staring straight at me.  Edlawit put her arm around Arous and let her lean into her shoulder.

“Where almost done with our lesson. Stay with me just a few more minutes.

“Momo’s don’t purr because they’re happy, though it sounds like a contented, half-asleep cat.  It’s more like the rattle of a rattlesnake.”

“We don’t have rattlesnakes here.  Only the pretty ones.”

“Yes, Arous only the pretty ones.  But, you’ve heard me tell you about the snakes in the Cusp when you go out to heal that you have to watch for.  They warn you with a rattle they have on their tail.  When they shake their tail, that snake is going to strike if you don’t back up; the Momo is warning you that something’s coming and it’s not going to be pleasant.  Momos are not aggressive. Compared to Sasquatch, Momos are reluctant to use violence.  Momo’s believe that they are much more civilized, education and better company to people and the world, than the Sasquatch.”

“Why do they see themselves so different?” asked Edlawit.

“Good question and there is a long history behind it we won’t get to.  But suffice it to say, there’s some tension between the Momo and the Sasquatch even though they are related. You’ve seen -both races come to Alippiana during Jubilee. We don’t have problems with their spats and vain quarrels in Alippiana; it’s the Spirit of the Mist that reminds them of their unity.  But on the outside of the Bowl, there are major problems, tensions.  Side A doesn’t accept Side B for who they are. Side B can’t tolerate being called names, Side A feels judged. Side B brings up the past, which leads to “why did you have to bring that up again?” Then Side A calls Side B Neanderthals and Side B just stops talking or throws punches or food or whatever happens to be handy.”

“Which side is Side A?” asked Edlawit.

“They both are,” I said.

“How does it ever end?” she asked again.

“Well, it doesn’t ever resolve.  They might end small disputes temporarily and that depends on which side is which; its either aggression or withdrawal.  Momos withdraw on normal occasions but not always.”

This wasn’t a normal occasion.  The Momo continued to purr softly and throw quick glances at Arous.

The Desperado reached across the table and grabbed Arous’ hand.

“Hey,” he said.

 “What?”

“You’re Lunese aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Aw, don’t be scared.”

She looked up at him.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re valuable.  You’re famous. Right? You look like someone famous, anyway.”

“That’s my mom,” said Arous.

“I don’t mean it that way, beautiful,” he said with a crooked grin. “I mean, some people won’t like you if they see you.”

“I know,” she said.

“Then why don’t you come with me?” he said.

“Somehow,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be all that safe with you.”

He grabbed her other arm.

“Come with me.”

“No,” she said. “Let go of me.”

“Is that the ‘no’ that means ‘yes’, beautiful?”

It flashed before me.

The Desperado was in the act of yanking Arous out of the booth, when, like lightening, the Momo hit her wrists together smashing her bracelets into pieces while jumping over the bar kicking her heels together and shattering her anklets

As she began to jump over the counter, a Desperado at the bar drew his Desert Express .5 Laser and fired right at her chest.