Number Nine: Chapter 16

MISSISSIPPI BLACK


FADE IN:

EXT. – MOONLIT WATERS – NIGHT

We hear the voice of Jim Morrison and The Doors singing…

You’re lost, little girl
You’re lost, little girl
Tell me who are you, dear?

Through the dark waters, just below the surface, we see floating corpses.

INT. – ST. LOUIS BAR – DAY

From above, we see the crack and scatter of billiard balls as the eight ball settles in focus.

We think that you know what to do…
You’re lost, little girl…

Fade scene.



On the passenger side of the old truck, Jake was tossing, turning, moaning and groaning. It was too much to ignore. Ruby pulled over at a highway rest stop and awakened him just outside of St. Louis.

“What is it, baby?”

A dance with the devil in the deep dark sea, something was holding him down, his arms tied behind him as he clawed and crawled toward the light of Ruby’s voice. His throat gripped tight and a fear of drowning overwhelmed him.

“Talk to me, baby.”

There is an element of the human species that would sacrifice humanity and the sanctity of life for the mere joy of observing the terror as it spread from one innocent soul to the next in a chain reaction of fear. There is a part of us all that has an endless thirst, a hunger, a dark gripping need that can never be satisfied or satiated. It cowers in shadows and avoids reflections not for fear of what it does not reflect but fear of what it does.

Jake was subsumed by the black waters of the Mississippi and only Ruby could drag him out of it. She kissed his rolling eyes and lips, wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled at his loins to awaken him. His eyes flickered open like the fluttering wings of a butterfly and Ruby pulled him in, holding him to her beating heart.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

He could only shake his head, clearing his mind and adjusting to light. He still had the sensation of drowning but it was not he, it was Ruby he saw sinking into the black. There was something in those waters that both summoned and threatened her.

“Something dark,” he said, knowing Ruby would never turn back.

Destiny was in charge and the Mississippi was destiny’s chosen path. The nightmare was a warning meant for him; it told him to be alert and vigilant. There was a darkness hovering over Ruby’s life and her soul was in peril.

They drove on with the darkness growing around them until they pulled into a Holliday Inn, booked room 909, and paid cash for the night. They would not rush to meet fate’s embrace. They would take their time and greet whatever waited with open eyes, defiant and steady like a rock.

Ruby opened the curtains and gazed at the city skyline, clustered towers and the St. Louis arch. They ordered room service and drank to the glory of life on earth, making love in moonlight on the motel floor, bathing in each other’s desires, sharing sensual dreams and lustful fantasies.

When two bodies destined to ignite, come together in the moonlight, angels dance in heaven and sirens serenade. No words could reach the divine essence, the eternal flame and insoluble mystery of love and lust at a crossroads. Their senses tuned to a collective heartbeat, they drank the warmth and texture of the flesh, taste, tongue and soul.

They feasted until the strength of their bodies succumbed to a driving need for release and rebirth: Sleep pulled at them like a stone in black water. A stone in black water.

They awoke to the clear blue skies of a bright summer day in the city of the grand arch and turned their backs on the world surrounding them. The Mississippi Queen would dock at sunset but the day belonged to them. They would not think ahead or look behind. They would live in the moment completely.

Together they explored second hand shops, cafes and bookstores in old St. Louis, buying costumes for the Queen. By late afternoon, they settled in a workingman’s bar with a couple of pool tables, a line of video poker machines, and a long bar with backless stools.

Jake had the discomforting feeling that someone was following. He could feel their eyes hiding in shadows, masked in crowds, cautious yet piercing. He was on alert until the second Jack Daniels settled in his gut and his vision adjusted to the dim light of a workingman’s bar.

About a dozen men, playing pool, drinking beer and sharing sorrows, slumping in barstools and leaning on round wooden tables, took turns looking Ruby over, pawing her with their minds, wondering how a man like Jake could be so lucky. It was pretty much a white man’s bar in a working white man’s part of town.

Only a matter of time, thought Jake.

A cowboy with a clean-cut look, worn out white plastic hat and polished black boots, approached the table, pool cue in hand.

“M’am,” he said, “would you like to play?”

Ruby liked to play and didn’t need to be asked twice.

“Rack ‘em up, cowboy,” she replied. “I’ll break.”

Crack! The sound of billiard balls in random collision rang in the caverns of Jake’s brain. Ruby damn near ran the table and finished the route on her second try.

“This time, I break,” said the cowboy.

He sunk two on the break and went on a run of his own. The game was on and the two of them got down to some serious pool.

A man at the bar with the markings of a Mescalero Apache – bola, turquoise and tan moccasins – caught Jake’s eye with a few pointed glances before wandering over to introduce himself.

“Don’t I know you?” he inquired.

Gazing through whiskey vision, Jake failed to find a glimmer of recognition and wondered what was up. This was not the kind of place where you ran into someone from the reservations. The man was pushing the limits of chance.

“Nice move, mestizo!” the man smiled.

Jake laughed and remembered the three Apaches who witnessed his defense of Ruby’s honor in an Arizona motorcycle bar. This man was one of them. It seemed a million miles and a hundred years away. What were the odds?

“What brings you to St. Louis?” asked Jake.

“A job,” said the man and from the looks of it he wasn’t lying. You can always tell when a typical man lies. He looks down or away and this man did neither. He offered his palm for a firm handshake and took a seat across from Jake.

“The name’s Wiley,” he said.

“Like the coyote?”

The man nodded and smiled like a coyote.

What were the odds?

A crowd gathered at the pool table where Ruby was prepared to make a behind the back bank shot. A collective cheer was followed by a groan as first the eight ball dropped and then the cue ball slid into a corner pocket.

“Shit,” said Ruby to a round of laughter. Money changed hands as Ruby returned to their table, followed by the victorious cowboy.

“This is Cowboy Bob,” said Ruby. “He’s alright.”

“This is Wiley,” introduced Jake. “From Arizona.”

“No shit,” said Ruby. “Small world.”

Ruby gave Jake a warm kiss, whispering that they were going out back for a smoke and wondering if he would like to join them. Jake shook his hear and watched the two of them slide out the back.

“Pretty woman,” said Wiley.

What were the odds?

Wiley ordered a pitcher of beer and rambled on about life on the Rez, the Apache tradition and the suffering of the people under two centuries of white man rule. He offered tributes to Red Sleeves, Cochise, Geronimo, Marcos and Gomez and lamented the absence of contemporary native leaders.

Jake nodded in agreement with Wiley’s sentiments though he held out hope for many contemporary leaders, like Ward Churchill, Leonard Crow Dog, Leonard Peltier behind bars in a Kansas penitentiary and lesser know tribal leaders like White Wolf. There were many great tribal leaders but few with a platform to air their grievances or inspire their peoples.

“There’s one thing I need to ask you,” said Wiley, his eyes narrowing to reveal a glimpse of his duplicity. “How is it you follow a white woman?”

Jake sprang to his feet and ran to the rear exit where the light of day nearly blinded him. He waited for his vision to clear before he found what he already knew: Ruby and the cowboy were nowhere in sight. He walked back into the bar where the coyote was no longer.

It was not the first time he had felt the sting of native betrayal. He left home some time after a man he called a friend seduced his woman with a promise of adventure. The ghost of her madness would never stop haunting him. The sight of her still, lifeless body on the side of the road, twenty paces from his and the burning remains of an old Apache motorcycle, was burned into his mind. It clung to him like Louisiana sweat. He wanted to kill or die but he roamed the land instead.

The bartender wore a quizzical look but said nothing. Jake ordered a whiskey and promptly hurled it against the wall where it shattered and bled. No one moved. No one said a word.

“I’ll never drink again,” he said to no one but himself.

He did the only thing he could think to do. He went back to the motel and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

There was something about that cowboy’s drawl – not Texan, not western but sticky and slow like Louisiana molasses. No wonder Ruby was drawn to him. He was pulling her to her destiny in New Orleans.

Ruby was no longer a Vegas babe or a woman on the run. She was a prize, a jewel, a treasure to be claimed and bartered. The New Orleans mob was in on the hunt.

It was a classic Apache double cross. Like the scouts that tracked down Geronimo, the coyote was hired by the Vegas mob to track down an Indian brother but somewhere along the path, he found Cowboy Bob and made a better deal.

Jake felt it in his bones and saw it in his dream vision: Mississippi black. Ruby was where she intended to be: On the Mississippi Queen bound for the Easy. She was there but she was no longer in her skin. She was possessed and she was losing hold of everything that made her Ruby Daulton: her freedom, her untamed spirit, her singular soul.

Jake fell like a stone in black water, deeper and deeper asleep.

EXT. – MOONLIT WATERS OF THE MISSISSIPPI – NIGHT

We see the moonlit waters of the Mississippi River as the Mississippi Queen, a floating paddleboat casino, rolls into view. We hear the voice of Jim Morrison singing CRYSTAL SHIP.

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I’d like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss

The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
Well meet again, well meet again…

INT. – MISSISSIPPI QUEEN – NIGHT

The sounds of drunken gamblers, slot machines and revelry. We see RUBY in a daze on a red velvet sofa.

Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You’d rather cry, Id rather fly

The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, Ill drop a line

Fade CRYSTAL SHIP. Fade to black