Flying Car Island : Page 6
Bodaway took risks with trust backed by his own visceral instincts.
When he awoke Bodaway found himself lying prone on a haybed in a barn. His head throbbed as though he had been drinking all night. He looked down at the delta of veins along his forearms expecting to see rope or handcuffs but instead saw only his wrinkly skin which grew taught eventually like sailboat lines running up to his hands. He breathed out and watched as a waving cloud of powdery water vapor evacuated his mouth, betraying a dark, unbrushed and cavity riddled bison breath in the cold barn air. Wind rushed along Bodaways worn deerskin pants and his ash stained hemp coat. He could see stripes of light and pinstars coming from between old boards and punched out knots respectively. He scrunched up his nose, two times, and he could smell the distinct blend of rabbit and horse manure, he smiled at his long time ability to discern this detail both in barnyards and in human enclaves.
Bodaway careened his aching head around to his left and glanced into a dark corner of the barn.
He heard a creaking sound, a sharp, creeeeeeeee! Then he saw a match light up an oval face, a cut and carved, chiseled roughly, face of the man who knocked him out with a pin. "You!" Bodaway shouted, his back deciding, with that trumpeting blast, to remind him where most of his pain dully lie.
"You remember me Bodaway? You remember anything?" The man lit a foot long pipe-stone ceremonial pipe.
The scent of tobacco filled the room, Bodaway thought he smelled red willow too. It was the man who introduced himself as Blue Manitou.
"We think we've figured out who you are, so you know, we won't have to kill you." A cloud of smoke circled this large man's face, he smirked clearly revealing his bluff to Bodaway. "How long have you known Nico?"
Relief washed over his body and and a certain rapport seemed to fill the tepid air of the barn room. Bodaway took risks with trust backed by his own visceral instincts.
As if by telepathic order, Blue Manitou gestered to two women hiding behind some nearby boulders. "These are our nurses and medicine women..."
"I've known Nico since before the earthquakes and volcanos so you know, we go way, way back. We converted a Mercury Marquisse to bio-diesel when we were kids. It was like a giant deep fryer on wheels."
"I can see it. Were you running low on water when you had the Vimana this week?" He asked looking at his contorted position laying on the floor.
Blue Manitou walked over to Bodaway and reached out one hand to help him up. "Want to sit?"
He reached for his hand, "Thanks. I had plenty of water, why?"
"We noticed your hydrogen intake tank was empty. You might have been able to ditch that government vehicle if you would've at least spit in the thing once this week, haha!" He laughed from the belly as he handed Bodaway a piping hot cup of coffee. "This will get your spine in order!"
He sipped the coffee, as both men positioned themselves on two wooden chairs at the only table and window in the room. Bodaway looked out over the blue sky and asked the inevitable, "So where and the hell am I and who and the hell were all those people on their giant white balloons?"
Blue Manitou drummed his fingers on a dusty sun beam on the table, and drew from his pipe. "So many questions? How about first, you share a puff? It'll help your back, promise."
"Well sure why not, a friend of Nico's must be guided."
"The balloon people..." he laughed, "...as you call them, are just regular survivors like you and I! But they fly with the benefit of good old fashioned hot air lift, from a super conducting heater in their packs, it can be redirected and used as a jet, but mostly, they blow in the wind like dandelion seeds. Sort of the sloths of the flying car world. It's a great way to see the Ogallala wetlands." Blue Manitou handed Bodaway the peace pipe.
He drew in a breath and the stew of flavor that entered his lungs was all at once bitter and with wafts of honey. "The Wisconsin half of Ogallala is my home, we had to move north after the flood from Nebraska and Iowa finally headed towards Wyalusing. How long did you stay? Why didn't I see any of those balloon riders there?"
"Too many questions old Bodaway, lets get you to a hot spring!" Blue Manitou smiled.
"Really?" an hour ago Bodaway thought he had met his Grim Reaper, now he felt a strange kinship with the man, beyond their shared tribal namesake.
Bodaway and Blue Manitou walked outside the barn. Immediately Bodaway noticed a giant oval shaped pond a few feet from the barn. Maybe another football field away was a giant half-glass green house. It must have been the size of a high school, but made out of a patch work of old boards and twisting whole trees.
"That's and impressive building." He pointed to the green house.
"That's our farm. You'll see it in a bit."
Bodaway looked down at the boiling water with trepidation and thought to himself, I wish there were women here.
As if by telepathic order, Blue Manitou gestured to two women hiding behind some nearby boulders. "These are our nurses and medicine women. They're here to give you a hot mineral massage."
Both woman were dressed in hemp colored pants and shirts. Both woman smiled politely. The taller of the two, a fine boned woman with a Spanish looking set of cheekbones, reached out and handed him a towel. "Take off your shoes and enter the spring."
Bodaway obliged quickly, stumbling a little comically as he sprinted to rip both his shoes off. As he entered the hot spring, his buffalo and coffee odor surrounded the unlikely party like a dark cloak. Blue Manitou wafted his hand around, "let's hope there is enough power in this spring for the onerous smell of Nico's friend." Again this giant of a man laughed as Bodaway felt the unnerving volcanic heat of Beringia Island's only hot spring.
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The saboteur, looking at Bodaway's gesture, measured him as a friendly one.
- Flying Car Island: Page 4
Bodaway dodged and weaved his Vimana, zig-zagging along the coastline, trying to shake the other black vehicle. The turbulence along the coast was great and terrible creating unseen vacuum pockets and updrafts...
- Flying Car Island: Page 3
Eventually the black Vimana disappeared out of sight. Bodaway floated like a hovering oak leaf down upon the refueling station. He reached over and grabbed the ethanol nozzle and inserted it into the side of...
- Flying Car Island: Page 2
The return of the short-faced bear was a remnant of the roaring 2020's. The old man had quickly adapted to the monstrous scavenger. These
- Flying Car Island
Fuel leaked onto his hand. He felt the cool evaporation of ethanol quiver quickly along his arm hair. He trembled pouring the reserve tank and tiny