Next

CHAPTER 075

Still lost, now driving through very hilly terrain, Stan Milgram squinted at the road sign emerging from the darkness ahead. PALOMAR MOUNTAIN 37MILES. Where the hell was that? He had never realized California was so big. He had passed through a couple of towns a ways back, but at three in the morning everything was closed, including gas stations. And then he was once more in dark, empty countryside.

He should have brought a map.

Stan was exhausted, irritable, and he needed to pull over and sleep. But the damn bird would start shrieking as soon as he stopped the car.

Gerard had been silent for the last hour, but now, inexplicably, he began to make telephone dial tones. As if he were calling someone.

“Stop it, Gerard,” Stan said.

And the bird stopped. At least for a moment. Stan was able to drive in silence. But of course it didn’t last.

“I’m hungry,” Gerard said.

“You and me both.”

“You bring any chips?”

“The chips are gone.” They had eaten the last of them, back in the town of Earp. An hour ago? Two hours ago?

“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen,” Gerard said, humming.

“Don’t do it,” Stan warned.

“Nobody knows, ’cept Jesus…”

“Gerard…”

Silence.

It was like traveling with a child, Stan thought. The bird had all of the stubbornness and unexpectedness of a child. It was exhausting.

They passed train tracks, off to the right.

Gerard made chugging sounds, and a mournful whistle. “I ain’t seen the sunshine, since I don’t know when-nnn…”

Stan decided not to say anything. He gripped the wheel and drove through the night. Behind him, he could see a faint lightening of the sky. That meant he was driving west. And that was where he wanted to go. More or less.

And then in the tense silence, Gerard began again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs, damen und herren, from what was once an inarticulate mass of lifeless tissues, may I now present a cultured, sophisticated, man about town! Hit it!”

“You’re pushing,” Stan said. “And I’m giving you a warning.”

“It’s my life-don’t you forget!” the bird sang, screaming at the top of its lungs. It seemed as if the whole car vibrated. Stan thought the windows might shatter.

He winced, gripped the wheel harder.

And then the screaming stopped.

“We’re so glad to see so many of you lovely people here tonight,” Gerard said, sounding like an announcer.

Stan shook his head. “Dear God.”

“Let’s be happy, happy happy, say the word now.

“Happy happy happy, try it somehow…”

“Stop,” Stan said.

Gerard went right on:

“Happy, happy, happy, happy, oh baby yes, happy, happy-”

“That’s it!” Stan yelled, pulling over to the side of the road. He got out of the car, slammed the driver’s door hard.

“You don’t scare me, buster,” Gerard said.

Stan swore and opened the back door.

Gerard was singing again: “I’ve got some news for you, and you’ll soon find out it’s true, and you’ll have to eat your lunch all by yourself-”

“No problem,” Stan said, “because you are out of here, pal!” He grabbed the bird roughly-Gerard pecked at him viciously, but he didn’t care-and put Gerard down on the side of the road, in the dust.

“It looks as though you’re letting go, and if it’s real I don’t want to-”

“It’s real,” Stan snarled.

Gerard flapped his wings. “You can’t do this to me,” he said.

“Oh no? Watch me.” Stan walked back to the front of the car, opened the door.

“I want my perch,” Gerard said. “It’s the least you can-”

“Fuck your damn perch!”

“Don’t go away mad, it can’t be so bad, don’t go away…”

“Bye, bye, Gerard.” Stan slammed the door and shoved his foot down on the pedal, driving off fast, making sure he raised a big cloud of dust. He looked back, but couldn’t see the bird. He did, however, see all the bird shit in the backseat. Jeez, it would take days to clean all that up.

But now it was quiet.

Blessedly quiet.

Finally.

The adventures of Gerard were over.

Now that there was silence in the car, his accumulated fatigue hit him. Stan began to doze off. He turned on the radio, rolled down the window, stuck his head out in the cold breeze. Nothing was helping. He realized he was going to fall asleep, and he had to pull off the road.

That bird had kept him awake. He felt a little bad, putting him out in the road that way. It was as good as killing him. A bird like that wouldn’t last long in the desert. Some rattler or coyote would make quick work of him. Had probably already done it. No reason to go back.

Stan pulled over to the side of the road, into a grove of pines. He turned the engine off and inhaled the scent of the trees. He fell instantly asleep.

Gerard walked back and forth on the dusty ground for a while in the darkness. He wanted to get off the ground, and several times he tried jumping onto the scrubby sage bushes that surrounded him. But the sage didn’t support his weight, and he came crashing down again each time. Finally he half-hopped, half-flew into the air, coming down again on a juniper bush about three feet off the ground. Standing on that makeshift perch, he might have gone to sleep, except the temperature was extremely cold for a tropical bird. And he was kept awake by the yelping of a pack of animals in the desert.

The yelps were coming closer.

Gerard ruffled his feathers, a sign of unease. He looked in the direction of the sound. He saw several dark shapes moving through the desert brush. He caught the glint of green eyes.

He ruffled his feathers again.

And watched the pack come toward him.