We came off the Interstate at Snoqualmie. I was wrong about the tourists. A lot of cars had come to see the Snoqualmie Falls. The pick-up signalled into the car park and we followed. The only space left was a dozen cars away from the pick-up. I could hardly turn the ignition off quick enough.
I sprinted back to the pick-up. There was no one in the cab. Then I saw Spike. He was crouched in front of the vehicle, examining the damage to his cattle bar. He stood up and grinned at me, showing gorgeous white teeth.
‘You look like hell,’ I said.
‘I’ve been driving all night, what’s your excuse?’
We met and hugged, and this time it was me who lifted him off the ground.
‘Damn it, Spike, I don’t know where you came from, but you’re an angel straight from heaven.’
‘Man, you know where I come from: Lubbock, Texas. And the only angel I ever was was a Hell’s Angel. Oo-ee!’ He touched the bruise on my face. Then Bel came running up, and there was a hug and a kiss for her.
‘Why didn’t you stop before now?’ she asked.
‘I wanted to be sure those chimpanzees weren’t on our tails.’
‘Are you kidding? Did you see what you did to their car?’
‘Oh, but they’ve got friends. And you folks, looks like you’ve got enemies.’
‘And not many friends,’ I conceded.
‘But we only needed one.’ And Bel pecked Spike’s cheek again and squeezed his arm. He blushed, but covered it up by wiping his face with a red bandana. He had dark eyes and greasy hair and three days of beard growth.
‘Man,’ he said, ‘I been living in these clothes.’
‘Yeah, we can tell.’
He punched me in the chest. It was a playful punch, but it hit a raw spot. I winced and doubled over.
‘Jesus, Wild West, I’m sorry.’
Bel helped me upright and explained, ‘Michael got into a fight with one of the bad guys.’
‘I see you’ve got a story to tell me.’
‘We have,’ I said, now recovered. ‘And we’ve a few questions for you.’
Spike shrugged. ‘Let’s find a bar in town, somewhere to take the weight off.’ He thought of something. ‘You didn’t swap my Trans-Am for that Nazi shit, did you? The thing’s full of bullet holes!’
I thought of an answer. ‘Let’s get a beer first.’
‘Follow me.’
It turned out that Spike knew the Snoqualmie and North Bend area pretty well.
He’d hunted out here, he had old friends here, and he’d once crashed a car here, which put him on crutches for a month.
‘Good people,’ he said in the bar, ‘but some of them can be a bit strange. I don’t know, inbreeding or something. You know they filmed Twin Peaks here?’
My face remained blank, but Bel looked interested.
‘So what made you follow us?’ I asked.
Spike took a mouthful of Rainier. ‘Figure it out. I knew you were in trouble, Wild West. Jazz told me some of what Bel had told her. I got the kid to tap back into her computer and print me the same stuff she printed for you. I knew then why you were headed for Seattle, and I knew it could get serious. These cults are bad news. I had a friend got mixed up in one. He’s still in therapy. And don’t forget, I have a Trans-Am riding on this. So I thought maybe I’d tail along.
‘I got to tell you, though, it was coincidence I was there this morning, not inspiration or anything. I hit town first thing this morning, and I was cruising up and down Aurora looking for a motel I liked the look of. I have to tell you, I passed yours twice and never even considered it. What’s wrong, man, your credit no good in this town or what?’ He sniffed and leaned back in his seat. He’d crossed a foot over one leg, showing off scuffed silver-toed shitkicker boots. Very clearly, he was enjoying telling the story. ‘Anyway, as I was going up and down I was seeing these cars with suits in them. They didn’t look like Aurora types at all. They looked like the worst kind of normal. They were checking all the motels, not looking for rooms, that was obvious. They were asking for someone. I followed one of them into an office and got to hear the description he gave to the clerk: man and woman, English, in a Vee-Dub. Well, apart from the car, that seemed to fit. So I stopped looking for a room and started following. When I saw your Volkswagen, man, I knew I’d done something right.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Bel.
‘The Trans-Am got shot up,’ I said. ‘That’s why we’re in the camper.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘A man called Kline had his men spray it with bullets. A journalist who’d been helping us was driving at the time.’
‘Is he...?’
‘He’s okay, we think. He’s in hospital.’
‘So those sonsabitches shot up my car, huh?’ Spike had a determined look on his face. It was the sort of look he got every time he picked up an assault rifle. ‘We’ve got to total them, man.’
‘Not so fast,’ I said. ‘You haven’t heard our story yet. Maybe when you have, you won’t be so enthusiastic.’
‘Then let’s get some more beers in and tell me all about it.’
We got in more beers.
‘This guy called Kline,’ said Spike, ‘I’ve got to waste him, man. I’ve never met him, he doesn’t know me from shit, and yet I just know I’ve got to waste him. I won’t rest easy till I do.’
It wasn’t just the beer talking; it was all the drugs he’d been taking on the road, drugs to keep him awake, drugs to push the accelerator harder, and drugs to hold it all together. I could see that in anywhere between five minutes and a couple of hours he was going to come crashing down.
‘I need some sleep,’ I said. ‘My brain’s stopped working. I was awake all night. Why don’t we head out into the country, find a quiet spot, and recharge a little?’
‘Hey,’ said Spike, ‘I know just the place.’
He led us out of Snoqualmie on the North Bend road, but then turned off and up a forest track. He was kicking up so much dust I thought our engine would die on us, but the VW just kept on going. The track got narrower, then narrower still. At first it had been a logging track, wide enough for a transporter, but now the trees were scraping both sides of the van, and there was grass growing through the gravel. I counted eight miles of this before we emerged into a clearing. So far since coming off the main road we hadn’t seen a single signpost, and no signs of habitation: no electricity pylons or phone lines or mailbox or anything.
But here was a big log house, fairly new and with a lawn surrounding it, beyond which lay impenetrable forest. Spike sounded his horn a few times, but no one came out of the house. We went up to the front door together. There was a note taped there, which Spike read out.
‘ “Dear Friend, If you’ve travelled this far, then you probably know us, so you also probably won’t be surprised that we’re not here. We’re in Portland for a few days and will be back Thursday or Friday. You’re welcome to camp. There’s a stream if you know where to find it. Love and peace, Marnie and Paul.” ’
‘Friends of mine,’ Spike said. There were potted plants all around the outside of the house, and he tapped a few playfully with his toe. ‘We go back a long way.’