wildcard

la rumeuse, the shaman, 350

(author's note - my formatting is for speech in italics, but it did not come through. Speech is mostly marked by a dash, however.)



Martha located RJ Sublime. He was easy to find. Tracks in the snow. She thought he probably knew she was looking, and did it deliberately. Maybe he just didn’t care who found him. She found out some things about him before she made contact. He was a loner, but in the game, who wasn’t? But no partner. No Boss. No brother. Nobody. Like her.

She wondered if Karl was still part of her team.
She found out RJ had worked with the General recently. Knew Karl had. The two men had met, and she wondered what this RJ had thought of Karl. Well, that was the reason for finding him, wasn’t it? Better news of Karl.

She arranged a meeting.

He picked the place, she chose the time. A park bench, noon. Martha walked up from behind, to study him. She liked his style. He wore a black greatcoat, longer in the back, cowboy boots, pencil thin villain moustache.

He turned and rose partially, a gentleman.
-I expect you must be Martha. RJ Sublime, at your service. A little too polished.

-RJ Sublime. She walked over, sat down, waited for him to follow suit. Are you from Atlanta?

-Near enough. She could lick his Southern panache out the air, it was so thick.

They sat without speaking, playing a game of silence and who would break it.

-Mister Sublime-

-Call me RJ, I insist. You don’t have a last name that I know of, so it’s not entirely fair.

-RJ, then.

She didn’t trust him, but she did find him agreeable. She wondered what his lovers thought of him, if he had ever made love to a man? Strange thoughts.

-Pardon me, Martha, but I have been waiting for you for a spell, and I need to visit the little boys room.
He walked towards the small generic structure. She watched him as he walked. Cocky. A little. He was probably a good dancer.

She felt someone slip onto the bench behind her. A man. If he wanted her dead, he would have killed her before moving in. She pretended not to notice. He sat, unmoving. She could feel the eyes on her back.

-LuvRay Chose.
She turned after she said it.

-Martha. La Rumeuse

-Both times correct. I suppose.

He closed his eyes, flared his nostrils, and smelled her in a long slow pull.
- You suppose?

-La Rumeuse is not real. She is a fiction. I did that once, confessed to a murder to a Catholic priest so that he would report it to the Papacy. I transmitted a message through a code to him. She looked at the small pond in front of the bench.

-Sentence was too long.

Wow.
She explained it more slowly. Now someone spreads rumours, or pretends to, and makes it look like I did it.

-I am not care, he said.

-Pretty direct, aren’t you?

-Tell me why I should let you live.

-Why would you kill me?

He looked through her.

-You aren’t here to kill me and you know it, she said.

-No. I am not here for this. Unless you make me believe you die is good thing.

-I won’t, trust me. She relaxed. She had been pretty certain he had not wanted to, but he was very wild, and his motivations were hidden from her. Power. Sex. Almost all men responded to one of these. She could read it in the walk and the speech.

Not this man.

He might be more dangerous than an M-E. But that was absurd.

-Does the General want you to kill me?

-Don’t know. He cannot make me. He wanted that I find you. He knows I will not kill you.

-Have you met the General?

LuvRay nodded his strange nod.

-What is his plan?

LuvRay looked perplexed.
-Ask a Juniper brother. They know much more than me.

-Not the details. His motivation. His driving force. He hides it from them. By misdirection.

-From me, too. I know the thing you speak. I cannot see the General’s. He likes to war, but that is not highest.

-I suppose he would. Sublime had left a bag of breadcrumbs to feed the pigeons. She picked it up, threw a few bits on the ground. Pigeons flew in.

-He killed Juniper.

-Old news. What about the Sergeant? Can you tell me something to save my life if he tries to kill me?

-Do not fight him. There is nothing I know to beat him. Avoid him if you think this thing. He waits for you, now.

-What? He’s here?

-He will not kill you. I am certain.

-Why did you tell me to avoid him if he is here?

-Future.

That made sense.
-Will that happen? Will he try to kill me later?

-I do not know.

-Why do they want me now?

LuvRay somehow looked at her and at the space around her simultaneously. He didn’t respond.

-LuvRay?

-I do not have answers. That is not me. Everyone thinks so, but it is not true.

-Can you help me?

-Help you do what?

Good question. She didn’t know, really. She was just reacting to events, hoping to keep Karl alive.

-Help me protect Karl.

-Yes. I do this without you ask. Are you ally with M-E?

- No. No one. How is Karl?

-He is happy. He enjoys to be alive.

She closed her eyes, breathed in and back out, slowly.
-I’m glad.

-Why Catholic church? They do nothing.

-What? Oh, you mean the La Rumeuse priest thing. Years ago. Not true. They do not intersect your life, LuvRay, but they still influence a mass destiny. An easily manipulated male hierarchy.

-What does mean?

-Men. Lots of followers.

-I see. No matter. It does not affect me.

She had an odd thought.
-Can you tell if something in this milieu will affect you?

-What does that word mean?

-Yeah, right. Um. Environment.


-What they call the game?

She smiled. Yes. The game.

-What do you mean?

-If I say ‘Seeker’, for example, do you know if you will deal with him?

-Mostly, yes. I know what will pass me by.

-That would be nice.

-It is. It allows me to be here and be not crazy. This world is always storm.

-Yes, she said.

-What name do I need know? Out of the blue.

-The Benefactor. The unthought answer.

He nodded.

-He is deeply hidden, behind many layers of power and subterfuge.

-Can the M-E’s see him?

-I think not. He seems to understand how to cloud information in a way that brings them to wrong conclusions.

-‘Cloud?’

-Muddle. Intentionally confuse. The Benefactor misleads the M-E’s. He seems to have some information space, a Juniper place, of his own.

-Will you try to escape the Sergeant?

-No. It would be pointless.

-Goodbye, Martha. He probably did not use a lot of names.

He stood, swept his head in a slow, smooth curve as he smelled the air, then walked away. She had the sense that he did not think about her, or their conversation as he left.






Rodney O’Nicah was well liked even though he never would have believed it. Not that he had some kind of inferiority complex, he simply knew he was a goof. He had been called that too many times to deny the relative truth. Rodney had the odd heritage of an Irish father and a black mother and had been born in Harlem, New York City. He had pale skin, almost a light tan, really, freckles, red hair.

He had always been dorky, although, or partially because, he was tall. Six foot-three, not a giant in that part of the world, but tall. Rodney had always wanted to play basketball. Unfortunately, when he tried he managed to get his own elbow in his eye or wind up face flat on the tarmac. He was capable of getting hurt easily, wasn’t really tough like some of those guys.

Rodney went on a road trip once, with some other dork buddies, less pronounced than him. They went to Atlantic City and he met an Indian who dealt blackjack.

-You’re a Shaman.

The way the Indian said it. Simple. Just the way it was. No big deal.

He laughed too loud out of fear of the truth of what the man had said, not out of genuine hilarity. Rodney heard the words and knew he was a Shaman.
He slept that night better than he had ever slept, though excited when he lay down. He had his first dream experience. A talking pig who told him to watch TV, listen to the radio, read billboards, get truth from anywhere. Messages would be there.

Since that time Rodney hadn’t worked in dreams very much. He studied with a Shaman and tried to do the Shaman thing, taking potions and drugs. Nothing ever happened. He thought the Shaman was a fraud and went to say so, but before he could, the Shaman looked at him, and said I am not a fraud, Rodney, but I am not your teacher.

Impressed, he had gone looking for his teacher.
He looked for two years, finally gave up. He met him soon afterwards.

A bum looked at Rodney as he passed by on the street. The man was not drunk, far gone, or on drugs. He was just sitting there in the street, not begging. Rodney felt it. Felt the tug in his guts that told him here was truth, reality near him. The bum stood up, leaning over, slouching. He crossed in front of Rodney and pushed right into his face, smiled and said, I’ve been waiting for you. He had white hair, and Hispanic features.

Rodney was paralyzed with fear. He could only ask,
-why?

-Well, said the old man, I probably have been waiting all my life because I think you are the reason I am here on this earth.

His name was Alvaro Jaime Ramirez. He was from the jungles of Chile and learned shamanism from the tribe of his birth. He told Rodney that he needed to find his own way. The traditional paths had the proper meaning for only those who grew up with them, and if Rodney tried those ways, he would block his talent.

-And you, my friend, are a very powerful shaman. He had a heavy Spanish accent.

-The most simple thing es le muy profundo You only need to tune into the message. How do you make yourself the sensitivo?

-I don’t gets it. Sensitivo?

-Si. When you know the, for me, the gods, for you, I do not know. When it is ready to speak to you.

-Basketball. I loosen up, get the blood moving. Basketball.

-Excellente. You know. You savez. This a very good thing. How do you get messages?

-In a dream, a pig told me to watch tv.

-A pig? Not so good. But not so bad. We can believe this pig, I think. Although message from the farm animal, she is not so good.

-It was a wild pig. With tusks. Rodney held up his fingers to simulate tusks.

-This is much better. You play the basketball when you wishes, then watch tv.

-He also said listen to radio and music, find it wherever I can.

-Then do so. But especially listen after the basketball. See me again one time, when you are ready.


Rodney did. A friend asked his advice about whether or not to ask a certain girl for a date. Rodney thought about it, and after basketball, he heard Daffy Duck tell Elmer Fudd, Suffering succotash, you’ll like a fool, man.

He told his friend not to, but he asked the girl anyway. She humiliated him in front of a group of people. He told Rodney, thanking him for trying to save him, and Rodney knew he had struck gold.
He told Jaime.

-We are done then. I was only needed teaching you heart. Other what I know does not help you. Here, for you. Jaime gave him a carved wooden boar, very similar to the one in the dream.

-Where did you get this?

-I carve this week. Goodbye, Rodney the shaman.

-Goodbye. Rodney wanted to buy him a bottle of alcohol as a present.

-I no drink.

He gave him $200 instead.

His friend began asking for more advice. Rodney offered excellent suggestions from Erkel, Martha Brady, or the weatherman. His friend told people and soon enough Rodney O’Nicah was the neighborhood fortune-teller. Old ladies loved him.

One day he thought about what he could do with the gift. After basketball one day, Big Bird let him know.

-Something immense is going to happen. Can you say immense?





The Sergeant appeared in front of Martha, pointed a device at her.

-Are you going to go without a fight, or do I use this kooky thing? I don’t even know what it does, to tell you the truth. He smiled.

-I’ll be good.

After they exited the park, he dropped the device into a mailbox. As he turned back towards her, she brought her hand up, drawing a fingernail across his wrist. A thin line of blood leaked out.

-Nice trick.
Inside his guard. A signal, don’t count me out. He wouldn’t.

-I’ve heard some intriguing things about you. You’re a player. I like meeting the Named. They’re interesting, they make my life interesting.
The Sergeant got her in a black Mazerati.

-Where are we headed?

-Headquarters.

-How far?

-1200 kilometers.

-Why not fly or take the train?

-Gotta stay on the down low. The M-E’s might deal in and I need high security, low visibility. I control all the variables in this car. Off their radar.

-You can do that?

-Right now I can. I need Trident and Juniperland combined to pull it, but I can do it. For now. Juniper’s death made them pull back. They probably have a spotty picture of my movement, but they don’t know what I’m doing, really. Or why.

-You don’t think me, or RJ, or even LuvRay would be tracked by them. They could know we are here, now.

-Good point. Let’s go.


-Why did you tell me that back there? That you can hide from them?

-Won’t matter by the time we’re done with you whether you know that or not.

- What does that mean? LuvRay said you wouldn’t kill me. I presume torture is out as well.

-No. I mean yes it is out. By us. On you. They just know it already. Their M-E’s. They went defense.

-How long will it last?

-Trident? What do you think?

-Not much longer. You took Martha.

-‘The Deeply Named comes forth.’ He glanced at her and give her a quick double nod.

-Where did you hear that?

-Your wildcard name? Everybody knows it. He slipped onto the freeway and started moving fast. She checked. 350 kilometers per hour. He was shifting lanes frequently as the cars knifed past in reverse at 250.

-You’re really playing with the power, huh? Going to war with the M-E’s?

He laughed.
-Hell, yeah. Kind of fun, isn’t it, taking on the gods?

She had expected him to be more uptight and close-lipped. He seemed almost playful. He was a boy, physically, and that might explain it.

-I thought you would be pretty straight, some soldier’s hard edge.

-Hmm, maybe. Sometimes. I feel pretty good, right now. To be honest, I find you very attractive. My hormones are in overdrive.

She knew already. Fourteen or fifteen year old body. His body probably wanted anything in a dress. Interesting way to diminish her advantage there. By stating it. Still…

-Could I use that against you?

-I can’t tell you that, but if you could, you’ll know before I will. If I see a way it could be used against me, I would prevent it.

He turned and looked at her, sped up a bit. Unless I fall in love with you. He made comic moony eyes at her, then turned back to the road.

The sexual power was almost nullified by his acknowledging it. She was glad of it, had never liked using it. It made her feel sleazy afterwards, even when it seemed necessary, even when it was used to protect. She had other tools. Much better ones.

-Still, he said, I am fourteen, in some sense, and get a hard-on if I see if I see cats screwing.

-Interesting betrayal of a weakness.

-Sure. Know your weaknesses. Let your opponent know you know and aren’t afraid to show the weaknesses openly. Powerful message. ‘Here is the hole in my armour, try to hit it. I am not afraid.’ Why not?

-Somebody could use it to kill you?

He laughed. Big deal.

-Big deal if you die?

-Yeah, who cares. I don’t care if I die.

-What? I don’t believe that. That’s impossible.

-Not at all. You have to die sometime. Probably soon in my position. I was gene-modified to not care. I care more about accomplishing the mission than living though it. Although I do want to live to accomplish the succeeding mission as well.

-You don’t talk like a fourteen year old.

-I’m actually eleven. Accelerated development.

-You talk even less like an eleven year old.

-Deep acceleration of mental/emotive development. Karl has the same thing, slightly less sophisticated, though. Earlier cloning tek when he was made.
Obvious statement.

-Also, intensive schooling and training. I tracked the first Sergeant frequently. I rode missions with him by a visual/auditory link. I actually operated as him, making and registering choices real time which he could ignore or do whatever he wanted with. Later we compared his decisions to mine and he taught me.

-Aren’t you afraid of the cops going this fast?
He laughed. Afraid of cops? Are you kidding? He slid onto the shoulder to pass two cars filling the lanes.


She slept a few hours, woke up at a gas station. They pulled back onto the expressway.

-You would die for the General? You’re that loyal to him?

-Loyal. Interesting word. I suppose in your definition of the word, I am.

-Do you like him?

-Not particularly. Not much at all.

-Do you love him?

He popped his head back a few centimeters, pursed his lips.

-Good question. I think so. Like a brother who annoys me. Also, a soldier’s love for a commander, definitely. Amazing mind, he has.

-I think you know each other too well.

-Quite possible.

-What does he think of you?

-I would not say he loves me in the same way. He is loyal to me as a function… and more than that to be honest. I am the one irreplaceable in his life. The Sergeant, I mean. Another trained biopid of me could replace me, but he needs a Sergeant. I bring insights, I see details he misses.
And, he knows he can always trust me. That is beyond value.

-Can you trust him?

-Oh, this song blazes. Turn it up. He bobbed his head, tapped his index fingers to the rhythm. Of course I can trust him. Since my entire strategy is to fulfill his plans. It’s a tautology. He would have to sabotage his own plans deliberately for him to betray that trust.

-You said deliberately. You could distrust his orders, his judgement… in a battle, perhaps. Not a deliberate…reversal of his plans, but not the best course of action. Something that will work against them.

-Well, that’s a rule of battle. Things go wrong, it’s just the way it is. There’s no way to tell if another course of action would have gone better since it never took place. Trust competent command. I demand it, I give it.

He turned into a tunnel, pushed it past 400. A door closed behind them. 6 minutes later, they emerged into the light again. A small chateau. On an island.

-Home, sweet, home, the Sergeant said.