Roadside Bodhisattva Part 1

Roadside Bodhisattva.

Paul Di Filippo.

For Deborah: The road goes ever on ...

And to the spirits of two.

Roadside Bodhisattvas:.

Henry Miller & Charles Bukowski.

Roadside BODHISATTVA.

One.

The fat geezer in the suv ditched me in the middle of nowhere.

"Sorry, kid, this is as far as Im going." He jerked his thumb left at a long shady gravel driveway with a fat plastic mailbox staked at its edge. "My place is about a mile down there. Brand-new vacation home on a sweet little lake. More gla.s.s than walls, two fireplaces, sleeps ten." He got a nervous look, like hed said too much. "I put in real good security, since Im only there on the weekends. Motion sensors and an automatic dialup to the local cops. And my brother and his family are due along soon."

What a f.u.c.king jerk, sitting there in his Casual Friday office drone clothes, too stupid to know that his rugby s.h.i.+rt and Dockers were just a different days uniform. All panicked that I was gonna follow him maybe on foot after he abandoned me, and rip him off. Like he had anything I wanted.

I already had the front pa.s.senger door of the suv half open, the straps of my pack in one hand, but I paused just long enough to make sweat break out on his forehead, despite the suvs air-conditioning going at full blast.

"Yeah, thanks for hauling my a.s.s all those miles. Golly, was it ten or twelve? Want any money for gas?"

He mustve been totally deaf to sarcasm, because he actually took me seriously. "No, no, thats quite all right." He squirmed around in his seat like a dog with worms, then said, "Well, good luck getting wherever youre going. Do you need directions?"

I stepped out, keeping the door ajar for my comeback. "Dont go to any extra trouble." Lame. What else could I say to make him squirm? I rummaged around and came up with something that just made me sound like a drifting loser. "I cant get lost anyhow, because I dont know where Im going." Then I slammed the door as hard as I could.

He didnt bother to answer me, but just drove off. His hopefullyrollover-primed tires kicked up a roostertail of pebbles, and I noticed a "Free Tibet" sticker on his b.u.mper. Yeah, right, like he even gave a f.u.c.k.

I looked around. Nothing but trees as far as I could see, more trees than I had ever personally experienced before. Hot narrow ribbon of asphalt without even a yellow stripe for variety, stretching off to faraway unknown places. But the weather was pleasant, pure summertime, and the sun was still pretty high. Lunch still sat nice and solid in my stomach, a couple of burgers, some onion rings and a large c.o.ke. I started walking in the direction me and Droneboy had been driving.

I was really gonna have to work on my ironic tone of voice.

My pack wasnt all that heavy. Or so I had thought when I first shouldered it on the way out the door of my folks house. All I had in it was a couple of paperbacks, my iPod, and my best Skechers. I was wearing my second-best pair. Plus a few clothes, like an extra pair of jeans and three tee s.h.i.+rts, some boxers and socks. But by seven oclock that night the straps of the pack were cutting into my shoulders like two dull knives. My feet ached, my legs throbbed and I smelled pretty ripe, like a crate of cabbages in a dumpster. My throat seemed to be made out of the crudded-out cardboard of a day-old pizza box. Pizza. That was really something I could enjoy right about now. Just a hot, greasy slice or three and a tall icy soda.

But this landscape was about as far away from civilized things like pizza as I could imagine. How many miles had I walked in the past five hours? At least a hundred, probably. And still there was only forest, forest, forest. Not a single car had pa.s.sed me in either direction. Why had anyone ever bothered to build a road through this f.u.c.king wilderness anyhow? All I had seen since I started walking was two or three driveways leading, I had no doubt, to other exclusive a.s.shole hideaways. Where did these people go when they wanted to rent a dvd?

At last I admitted to myself that I wasnt going to find any supper tonight or a good place to crash, like a bus station or an all-night diner. So I started thinking about calling a halt to this sweaty marching and curling up under some tree. I figured that maybe I could make some kind of Boy Scout shelter out of twigs to stay warm.

After about another ten dozen miles, I scoped out my best bet so far. This tree was huge, standing all by itself, and its curving branches came down to about the height of my head, like an umbrella half opened. It was set back a dozen yards or more from the road in a field, so Id be less likely to attract attention or get woken up all night by the nonexistent traffic.

I left the road and cut across a strip of land where the gra.s.s and wildflowers practically came up to my waist. As I got closer to the tree, the gra.s.s and flowers gave way to clear ground packed soft with about a million years worth of dead leaves. Nice mattress, I thought.

With the sun sinking and the living leaves on the trees branches thick as discarded scratch tickets on a sidewalk, the s.p.a.ce under the trees canopy seemed dark as a janitors broomcloset to my eyes. I got a little spooked and slowed down. What kind of animals lived out here? Bears? Cougars? Did they like to hang out under trees?

I stepped forward, past the first branches, and waited for my eyes to adjust.

"Howdy, friend."

I jumped back like I was yanked on a string. Maybe I would have run if I wasnt so tired. Looking back on things, maybe I should have. But I didnt. Instead, once I felt like my voice wouldnt shake, I spoke right back "Whos there?"

"Just a bone-weary fellow traveler like yourself, pardner. Come on in."

I hung back a minute longer, letting my eyes get used to the gloom. A gentle sunset breeze was making the leaves whisper and breathe in a soothing way, and the air caught close beneath the branches smelled nice. Suddenly, for no real good reason, I felt peaceful and relaxed. That feeling, plus my tiredness, won out over any fear or caution, and I stepped forward.

Now I could see the guy who had called out to me.

He sat crosslegged and loose-limbed at the very base of the big trunk, his b.u.t.t nestled in a knot of roots. He was a slim, wiry, tough-looking older guy. I couldnt really guess how old. Once people get past twenty-five or so, they all start to look the same age to me.

He was dressed nothing special. Jeans cuffed up above some ratty hiking boots, belt with a big buckle, denim s.h.i.+rt. His hair was a little on the longish side, and slicked back with some kind of gel or mousse. Or maybe it just hadnt been washed lately. His face was the most startling thing about him. Pockmarked with old zit scars and craters, nose a messy sprawl, lips kinda blubbery. Patchy gingery whiskers sprouted here and there across his lean cheeks and chin, like weeds in a deserted lot. A little scary looking, overall. But his eyes, as far as I could read them in the evening shade, were lively and friendly.

He didnt get up right away, and for a minute I had this wild idea that he was glued to the tree, or part of it, or something else crazy like that. But the next minute he unfolded himself easily and stood up. He stuck out his hand and said, "Im Sid."

We shook hands. "I, uh, Id like to remain anonymous for now."

Sid cracked this wide rade grin. "Anonymous, huh? Okay if I call you Anon? Of maybe youd prefer Kid A?"

Maybe withholding my name was stupid. But I wouldnt go back now on my impulsive decision, and I wouldnt let him get a rise out of me. "Whatever."

Sid stepped back and looked me up and down. "How old are you, Kid A?"

"Eighteen."

Sid snorted like a cops horse with its nose in the feedbag. "You come from some planet where they use a different numbering system? That mustache youre cultivating has about six hairs in it."

That p.i.s.sed me off. "So what? Your own beard looks like you started to get electrolysis and then changed your mind halfway."

"You got me there, Kid A. But that doesnt change your age. I say youre sixteen, tops."

"What if I am?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I just dont like to be lied to. Why hide what you are?"

Maybe he had a point. "Okay, youre right. I am sixteen. And a half."

Sid clapped one rough hand on my shoulder. Usually I hated when people did that, because it always felt phony. But for some reason this time, I didnt mind.

"Okay. Now weve got a basis for communication."

"How old are you?"

"Fifty-two." He took away his hand and slapped his own tight gut. "Looking pretty decent for an elderly guy, huh? Still got basically the same waistline I had when I was not much oldern you."

"I guess thats cool."

Neither one of us said anything for a minute. I waited for Sid to ask me the most obvious questions. What was I doing on the road? Where was I heading? Had I run away from home? But he never did.

"Thinking of camping under the tree for the night?"

"Well, yeah. Unless you need the whole s.p.a.ce here, or just wanna be alone."

"Far from it. Company is good. You thirsty?"

"Yeah!"

"Theres a creek a few yards in that direction. Need a cup?"

"Um, sure."

Sid moved to the base of the tree. I hadnt seen his pack in the shadows till then. He went to it now and opened it up. It was some kind of retro-looking army-surplus pack, green canvas with a built-in metal frame, lots of grommets and side pockets and rope ties and cracked leather straps. He dug out a plastic cup and tossed it to me.

"Oh, and one other thing."

A roll of toilet paper came flying through the air.

"Just dont s.h.i.+t too close to where we both have to drink. One of the prime tenets of civilization."

I smiled for the first time since I had met Sid.

"h.e.l.l, cant argue with that," I said.

When I got back from the stream, Sid had moved around to the far side of the big tree and was kneeling down. He was busy arranging rocks in a circle around a patch of ground cleared of leaves down to the dirt. Beside his boots rested a decent-sized pile of twigs and branches, snapped to short lengths.

"We can have a small fire over on this side, and theres less chance anyonell spot it from the road. No sense drawing busybodies wholl sic the authorities on us. If its one thing I hate, its being ha.s.sled by the cops."

"They looking for you?"

"h.e.l.l, no! Do I appear to be some kind of wild-eyed fugitive to you? Im clean as a virgins panties. But I dont own a home, I dont pay taxes, and I dont drive a car. So of course Im instantly an object of suspicion. You too, for that matter."

I needed to wrap my mind around that concept for a minute. Just by stepping away from my old life, I was considered a potential criminal? Leaving behind the things I didnt want anymore, the people who didnt want me, made me a menace to society? Even without doing anything illegal? Where was the justice in that? Finally I managed to think like a cop and see myself from their point of view. But I didnt like it any better.

"Okay, I bow to your superior experience. Secrecy rules."

"d.a.m.n straight."

Sid constructed a smaller circle of stones inside the bigger one. Then he got the fire going with absolute efficiency. I got a kick out of watching him layer the tinder and twigs and branches. It was like watching a DJ scratching or someone drawing a beautiful chalk picture on the sidewalk. No wasted moves, artistic. He lit the pyramid of wood with a disposable lighter, then sat back on his heels.

"I got a can of beans and a can of Chef Boyardee in my pack. I intend to mix em all together, heat em up and dish em out. Any objections?"

My mouth was already watering. "No sir!"

Sid rousted the cans out of his pack, along with two plastic margarine tubs with lids and some plastic spoons. The cans came open raggedly under an attachment of his pocket knife. He fetched out a battered aluminum pan and filled it with beans and spaghetti.

"Go fill these empties halfway each with creek water."

I did as I was told. The last drips of light were being squeezed out of the sky, and I had to really watch my footing coming back across the rough ground.

Sid sloshed the water around to get all the residue out of each can, then poured the water into the pan. He rested the pan on the inner ring of rocks, and before too long the makes.h.i.+ft stew was bubbling away.

My gut rumbled, and I could practically taste the food.

Sid tucked the cans away in his knapsack. "Pack it in, pack it out. Another good rule to live by."

I felt easy enough to make a joke. "You related to Smokey the Bear?

Sid glowered at me, and I thought I had overstepped some kind of boundary of politeness. But then I read his scowl as a put-on, and his next words confirmed it.

"Smokey? I fathered that hairy b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

We both had a good laugh. His was loud and deep down in his chest. Pretty soon the stew was ready. Sid used his s.h.i.+rt tails for a potholder, and poured some for each of us.

I had never tasted anything so good.

"Whend you eat last, Kid A?"

"Lunch. But that was about a hundred hours ago."

"Been walking all day?"

"Naw, just since early afternoon."

"Long enough. Sorry theres no cheesecake or pumpkin pie for dessert. But this should hold us till the morning. Well take it from there. Somethingll turn up. You got any money?"

I stiffened right up. "Um, a few bucks ..."

The dancing firelight made Sids face waver. But there was no mistaking his expression of sad disgust. And this time he wasnt faking any emotions.

"Kid, if I had wanted to rob you, I would have coldc.o.c.ked you the first time you turned your back on me, and you never wouldve even seen it coming. Let me tell you my rule for dealing with people. Its really simple, and Ive never known it to let me down. I start out friendly, and see how the other guy responds. After that, based on what he does, I follow t.i.t for tat. So I give you supper and expect at least some plain old respect back. But things can go down from here any way you want. If you dont trust me, you can take off and find some other place to hole up in for the night. Or Ill do the same. Your call."

I swallowed whatever was in my throat, while I tried to figure out what to say. I realized I had been acting just like the geezer in the suv, frightened for no real reason. Worried about someone who looked a little weird. At last I got out an apology.

"Im sorry, Sid. Its just that Im new at this kind of life. You wouldnt want me to act like some kind of sucker about things, would you?"

"Not a sucker, no. But not fearful and cynical and always expecting the worst. Thats a sure recipe for getting exactly what you least want."

"Okay. Now I know."

Sid stuck out his hand. "No hard feelings, then? Shake."