L.A. Trippin’

Tiko sat upfront, right behind Louis, staring out the window with the stupid smile on his face. Apart from Buddha and Batman’s arch-enemy the Joker, the only guys constantly grinning that I knew of were the Alzheimer’s patients who sometimes visited my parents’ restaurant. Deep inside I still wasn’t quite sure if we were doing the right thing. After all we just wanted to leave home and travel to L.A.  I hoped our trip wouldn’t turn into some kind of nightmare. The others didn’t seem to mind though. Nudjia was leaning against a window, watching the town slide by. Lucy sat cuddled in Mark’s arms, probably dreaming of her and Mark - definitely in that order - becoming Hollywood hotshots, chasing gangsters and fighting thunderstorms.
We were lucky we didn’t know what we had coming, because if we had, we probably would have chosen another way, beginning with skipping the police, which from what I know now wouldn’t have been the brightest idea. But what is there to say, after all we weren’t psychics or anything.
We simply didn’t know any better, so we were all so excited as the lonely house came in sight. In the morning light it looked a bit like half of the famous Hopper painting of the house by the sea, except for this one was as close to any sea as I was to some quiet days with Nudjia.
Half of it was missing. Well, maybe not really missing. It just happened to come apart or rot away. Louis stopped the bus in front of what once might have been called a garden. Some dried out tomato plants stood scattered between two bent-over trees. Connecting them was a hammock filled with a rather limp looking body. As Louis cut the engine we could hear loud yelling and shooting in the house. It wasn’t for real - just the TV-set. Probably one of those surround speaker systems where you sit in the middle with the shit hitting you from every corner - in mega-stereo.
Louis got out first. We followed. The guy in the hammock must have been unconscious or something. Normally that level of noise would get anybody jumping. Lucy and Nudjia even covered their ears although they were still outside. Louis tried knocking.
Nothing. Except that the door almost fell out of its hinges - and the noise, of course. I thought I knew the scene they were watching, but I couldn’t think of the movie.
Louis’ heavy fist had made the door open in itself. We went in. Compared to the garden, the hall looked almost tidy. Not that it was clean, just less messy, almost as if someone had tried putting an order to things. It was filled with sagging shelves bursting with reference books of all sizes. Most of them were books with quotations, like ‘Quotations of famous Film Stars’ or even ‘The unspoken words of Ronald Reagan’. I wondered what that one had left unsaid, with all the shit he’d had coming out of his mouth. Anyway, someone obviously had taken the trouble of filling a book with it. Different strokes for different folks.
We were in. Because nothing moved and the noise kept thundering from the room to the right, we decided to start there and entered. What we witnessed then had us nailed.
I wouldn’t go as far as to call my sister nor me neat, but compared to what we had here we were the clean team. If ever I saw a mess, this was it. The room was overflowing with empty cartons, beercans and bottles. Clothes thrown over worn-down coverless armchairs with springs poking out of the seats added to the cozy athmosphere. A portrait of some local politician with the sun coming up behind his stupid face was hanging from the wall. In the middle of it all, in front of this huge blaring TV-set, six tiny loudspeakers shooting highest decibels at his eardrums, a guy in his late fifties sat staring at the screen, hair down to his belly in a striped undershirt and shorts. Now I remembered the movie, it was ‘Heat’.
“Oh - uh, hi there,” he said stroking his mane, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. “Care for a donut or something?”
Robert de Niro and his gang were blasting themselves an escape-route from a fucked up bank heist, Al Pacino close behind, chasing them. A truly great movie. Our policeman, or whatever he was, was on Al’s side - of course. Shadowboxing in his armchair, occasionally spitting towards an empty paint can - and missing …
“Sir, sorry to disturb you sir,“ Louis yelled, trying his best to keep his sarcasm at the lowest possible level. “Am I right in the assumption that this is the Police station?”
The guy slightly turned his head and without breaking the stare to the screen said: “Yeah, you’re right about that, son. The sign is missing. But there’s nobody here to notice except for some local Chinamen. My partner and I wanted to saw-out a new one but we haven’t decided where to put it, yet.”
Louis took three steps over to the man, squatted next to him and yelled so loud into the guy’s face that his fake hairdo almost slid off his head: “Sir! We had a few problems with some Russian pimps who seem to be harassing the whole county, Sir. And Sir, with all due respect, Sir, I think you should be doing something about that.”
Louis’ roaring organ must have hit the guys’ brain cells like a bomb: he spit out most of the half eaten donut, pushed the remote, freezing Al, then stared at us with the scariest face I could imagine.
Then he got up from his chair, straightened his shirt and yelled: “WHAAAAT!? Russkies, here in MY town? I HATE fucking Russkies. And Greeks, too! We already have to cope with all these Chinamen running around the place, dressed like stepping right out of a fucking RICE field. But you know what? They raise CHICKEN! Can you imagine, chicken right here in my desert? I always told my men NEVER to trust them Chinamen.”
“Sir, never mind the Chinamen Sir, this time it’s the Russians posing the threat,” Louis said.
I held Nudjia tight.
“Don’t worrry love, I’m fine,” she whispered.
The guy tried straightening the wig. Somehow it didn’t stick so he threw it to the screen.
“Oh, fuck the disguise,” he said to nobody in particular.
Who the hell did he want to mislead?
He went over to the open window and with his red head almost bursting, yelled:  “QUOOote!” so loud that those of us who had not covered our ears heard the guy outside fall from his hammock. Quote came running like Speedy Gonzales.
As  he opened the door to see what the fuzz was all about, he stammered: “Sir, the very hairs of your head are all numbered, St. Matthew, chapter 10, verse 29”.
These people had obviously run out of mirrors. The guy’s own face looked like a kicked-in trash can, with hair on it.
“Oh, Quote, forget the hair. Get me my uniform and my guns. We got a job to do!”
I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t for real – not another one of those fifties B-movies.  As far as I could remember we already starred in ‘Attack of the Amazons’.  But this one was by far the worst.
I turned to Nudjia and said: “Please pinch me so that I know I’m not dreaming.”
“Let me handle this,” Louis said to Mark, holding him back.
“Sergeant,” he said, straightening his shirt and with his left hand scratching the first layer of stubbles that had appeared on his head, as if giving the cop the impression he’d be the one in charge. “Sergeant, Sir, what is it you plan to do about the problem?”
“Well,” the man said, also straightening his shirt. “The way I see it, you folks want to play detective, right? You -  big guy, you look as if you’ve seen worse. What was your rang?”
I knew Louis as this peaceful guy driving the bus and listening to Solomon Burke. Sure, he did kill that Russian guy yesterday, but I’d seen that as just a sudden outburst of uncontrolled anger. Now, with the cop adressing him this way, I suddenly felt less sure. Maybe Louis had a past I didn’t know anything about.
“I did ten years in the army - Special Forces. Mostly Vietnam, South America. But that’s a long time ago. I like it best not to be remembered.”
“That’s all right with me, son. But let’s face it. If we want to do something about these motherfuckers - sorry about the language, ladies – we need to combine forces. And uhm, by the way, you just call me Sarge from now on. Easier to remember.”
It was as if by ridding himself of the wig the cop had completely changed of character.  Somehow he had found a way back to his original role. Still I kept wondering what the hell he needed that wig for? Was it a trophy of some kind? Maybe he thought he was starring in a western …
“Well, then I suggest we get to know each other,“ Sarge said. “First let me introduce you to Quote, my ever faithful assistant. We share a long time together. I stood next to him as he got hit in the head, way back in Nam. Also got him out. The bullet’s still stuck in there somewhere. They said it wouldn’t do him no harm. He’s changed a little since then, though. Just speaks in quotations, that’s why the name. His mind works like a catalogue.
Seen those books in the hall? They’re his bible. He reads them constantly. Doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you’re often in for a treat. Sometimes it’s even practical; you get to learn stuff.”
“Here’s looking at you kid, Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, 1942,” Quote said while grabbing Lucy’s hand.
Wow, another freak-show, I thought. And Louis having served in Vietnam. This day sure was full of surprises. I wondered what would be next.
“Enchantée,” Lucy replied, obviously delighted by the courtesy, and then to Tiko: “it’s all just a question of manners.”
Guess what, Tiko grinned. Apparently he’d lost interest in chasing women. Buddha had him in a tight grip. Still, I hoped that with time his apetite would grow back to the dimensions Lucy was hinting at. I preferred him the natural way. After all one can grin and be for real at the same time.
I used the moment to introduce the others.
Although it didn’t take me very long, Sarge soon got uncomfortable. Apparently he was very serious about the assignment. He walked over to a huge trunk behind the TV-set and with one fast move wiped off the entire junk-collection that they had put there so meticulously. He opened the lid and tore out a perfectly ironed uniform. Under a chest full of decorations I could make out the nameplate: Sgt. John McGuilles. Louis had been right, the guy was a Sergeant. Maybe army folks can smell each other’s rang.
The moment Sarge put on the uniform he’d once again turned into a different man. Quite a change. Just a couple of minutes ago we still had this fifty-something yelling and shouting at the TV-set, whereas now he looked as he’d be taking Elisabeth Taylor out to dinner. Maybe the cruise missile-proved helmet would have to stay home, but I guess you get the picture.
“Why do we deck, why do we dress for such a short-lived happiness, Lucidus, by Aphra Behn, 1688,” Quote said, making us all burst out laughing.
“Oh shut up, Quote,” Sarge said. “This ain’t no time for jokes. We got some serious business ahead. You think I wanna go chasing those damned Russkies in my undies?”
He definitely had a point there, although I wasn’t sure which outfit would have been the most effective. But I sure was happy he didn’t look like one of those slick TV-warriors. You know, the guys holding the press-conferences, telling people everything’s under control, pointing at some unrecognizable video-footage explaining viewers how one more chemical plant or whatever had been taken out. Not that anybody ever could tell the difference between the blur and the Toys ‘r Us next door. I often wonder, do they really know what they are talking about, have they even been there and looked into the dirty evil face of war?
You could tell Sarge had. I’m not saying he wasn’t crazy – he was, but we’ll get to that in a second. He had class. Sure, he was a fighter - but fair. He’d take care of his men as he’d done with Quote.  I’m not sure if we’d have made it without him – but, as I said, more on that later.
Sarge grabbed Quote and said: “Quote, get these folks some guns.”
See, I told you he was crazy. Before anyone could protest, Quote walked back into the hall, tearing me along. The others followed. At the end stood a giant cupboard containing an incredible collection of shotguns. The mere sight of it had my heart stop instantly; my throat felt like bursting. It was more than enough to supply an entire platoon with. Not that I knew much about guns. I was just familiar with a few from watching movies and stuff. This was whatever I could think of, and more.
“But Quote, we thought we wanted to end this peacefully. Besides, none of us is able to handle a gun,” I said. “And I think I’m speaking for all of us when I say that we prefer to keep it that way.”
“Good men are scarce, English proverb, early 17th century. But we have to fight fire with fire, English proverb, mid 19th century,” he replied.
Good answer, I had to say, although I didn’t share his point of view.
Louis came to my help: “Friends, it’s time to make a decision.”
“Gouverner, c’est choisir, Duc de Lévis, 1812,” Quote said.
“Yeah, right,” Louis replied. “Now y’all listen to me carefully cause I won’t be repeating this. As far as I can recall, you had decided to get rid of these Russians. Only you forgot to think about the how. Up till now I more or less excluded myself from the discussion. But because of the guy I killed over in the desert I’m too much involved anyhow. What I’m saying is, though it’s very honorable of you to come to the help of others, you won’t be able to finish them off just by being enthusiastic about it.”
He walked over to the cupboard and asked Quote to open it.
Then he took one of the guns on display, aimed it directly at me and said: “What now, Damon?” making me jump back five steps.
“See? Now what would you do if someone sticks a gun up your nose? Quote wasn’t completely wrong, you know. It’s his way of looking at things. On the other hand we do have that problem Damon was talking about. You’re a bunch of bloody amateurs. Sure, us three could give you all some quick lessons in the handling of guns, but turning you into snipers would take a lot longer than we can afford. Still, I think we may have other options. But you have to decide which road you wanna take. Although it’s brave to want to solve the affair in a peaceful way, I bet my head the Russians won’t give a damn. If they are as tough as I think they are, they’ll be a hard nut to crack. We won’t succeed without the necessary hardware.”
He lowered the gun. Tiko stopped grinning.
“Here’s my suggestion: Let Sarge, Quote and me handle the guns, while you do the talking, all right?”
“But Louis,” Lucy said, “you don’t need to take over our part, you know. You’re doing more than enough already. We ask these guys for help because we thought it their duty as policemen. I never expected them to include us in their plan in this way, let alone hand us their guns. It’s not that I would want to quit. Just give us a bit of time to grow into the situation, o.k.?”
He said: “Hey, anybody wants to quit, no problem with me. Nobody will think you a coward. However, if you decide to go on with your plan, for which I truly admire y’all, showing this much courage and acting up in favor of people you barely know. As I  said, if you do decide to take on from here, I expect you to do as we say. We got the experience. You don’t. Every team needs a leader and I believe we found a good one in Sarge. You can trust him. In combat, it’s essential to be able to rely completely on your comrades and to know they’ll be there when you need them. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
I sure hoped he knew he did. As far as I could remember this Sarge sat yelling at a screen wearing just his undies and a wig only five minutes ago. And now Louis expected us to trust him with our lives.
“We all deeply respect your opinion, Louis,” Mark said. “Nobody wants to quit. After all we just decided we would want to do our part in ending this reign of terror. We can’t allow this girl-trafficking to go on forever. We have to end it now. I don’t think any of us would have a problem with you, being the experienced soldiers you are, as our guides. There’s just one thing I’d like to ask. I’ve never held a gun. I’d like to try it. Please show me. We still have time before we’ll get to L.A. I’d like to see for myself if I can be a part of your group.”
Lucy, standing next to him, fetched his arm.
“But Marrk,” Nudjia said, tthere is no need forr you to do this. The brrotherrs arre so dangerrous. I vouldn’t vant anything to happen to you.”
“I didn’t say I would try to replace Dirty Harry. I just want to know what it feels like to hold this kind of power in my hands. Maybe I like it, maybe I don’t. That’s all.”
I hoped he wasn’t trying to impress my sister. But from what I’d seen so far that wasn’t his thing. Still, it was as if suddenly something inside of him had changed, as if someone had pulled a switch somewhere deep inside his brain. It was so unexpected and it reminded me of other sudden freaky changes we’d survived over the past few days, like the thunderstorm or whatever it was that had tried to pull me under in the tub. Whatever bug had stung him, I still thought his behavior extremely stupid and irresponsible.
“Wow, what was it I just overheard here?” Sarge said, his hand resting on Mark’s shoulder. “Let me show you some of my babies,” he said, taking two heavy monsters from the cupboard.
He pointed at the right one: “Pump gun.”
To me it looked more like a giant black banana with a wooden grip.
“It won’t take you long to learn how to handle one of these. Give me a week and I’ll turn you into a pure pro. But if you don’t mind I’ll let Quote take over from here. Louis and I still have some planning to do over in the living room.”
As they were halfway down the floor Sarge turned and said: “Uhm, and Quote, the little Indian guy stays out. He ain’t ready, yet.”
“Sometimes I sits and thinks, and then again I just sits, Punch, October 24th 1906,” Quote replied.
„Yeah yeah,” Sarge said while entering the living room. „I know you’re not as dumb as you look. I just wanted to make sure.”
We’d definitely be in for a treat over the coming days. Tiko didn’t seem to mind he got excluded. He appeared to be deeply sunk in some kind of amnesia. But at least the stupid grin was gone.
Louis shut the door behind them so he and Sarge could hold their powwow in peace and quiet.
You could tell Mark was thrilled. His cheeks were cherry-red. Not that I didn’t understand him. With the heavy artillery he was holding, he could blast holes twice Louis’ size into any wall. The only guys I could think of who’d use such a monster were heavy gangsters and maybe Special Ops. Yet, looking at him holding the gun, I asked myself if he - or maybe even us all - were still acting out of pure commitment or if this new-found power had just awakened  revenge for what happened to Tiko and the girls.
“Look friends,” I said.  “I don’t know how you feel about all this, but I need to tell you what  goes on in my head. Mark, in a way I feel sorry for what I’m about to say, cause I really like you, but what you’re doing right now makes me want to puke.
“I am angry as hell, just like you, maybe even more. After all, these guys mistreated and hurt the girl I love. They nearly killed Tiko, they humiliated the people living in the region and if it were not for us, nobody would care about the situation. BUT - and this is a huge ‘but’ standing in the way - I am not willing to blast them to pieces. It’s not that I’m holier than the pope or anything, it’s just that I think this is getting too big for us. Mark, you can’t be sure you wouldn’t be hitting some other innocent guy while trying to finish off the Russkies. Simply because you can’t shoot. That is, I can’t, I’ve never tried and I never will. Even if they’d force me, it wouldn’t do any good. This ain’t self defense. We are planning an assault on these freaks. Louis and Sarge are responsible for the tough part. They’ll deal with the brothers and as far as I go that’s it. Not that I am afraid to stand up against them - otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here today. I just don’t want to be the one blasting them into oblivion.”
“O.K. Damon, no offense taken. I can see your point. So what do you propose?,” Mark said, slightly shaking his head as if trying to get rid of the ideas he had growing inside.
I was so glad he didn’t feel insulted. Maybe one day Lucy would also be able to handle criticism this way.
“Just think twice about what you’re about to say before you do,” I said.
“Mankind must put an end to war or war will put an end to mankind, John F.Kennedy in his speech to the U.N. General Assembly, 25th September 1961,” Quote said.
“Yeah, that’s it! He’s right,” said Mark.
Wooow! What’s going on in his brain? This is some scary shit we’re dealing with here!
“You were so right, Damon,” he said. “Seeing all these guns, I suddenly lost control. It was as if someone had taken over inside of me, I don’t know.”
Now that didn’t make things less scary, but on the other hand, it didn’t sound too weird either, after all that we’d been through lately. But what if this is just the beginning, what if things would be getting worse, if we would really lose control over our senses?
“Quote,” Nudjia said, “vhy did you show us the guns in the firrst place?”
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, English proverb, early sixteenth century,” he said, smiling slightly.
“Sure, he doesn’t know any better,” Lucy said. “And with Sarge around, he isn’t just getting the best vibrations.”
I wanted to get this over with once and for all and said: “So am I right in the assumption that now that we’ve come to the conclusion that we won’t be swinging any guns around, we’re ready to work out a different plan?”
Quote put the guns back into the cupboard and closed the doors.
Nudjia, holding onto me from behind, said: “But Sarrge just sait he and Louis vould be doing that.”
“That’s right Nudjia,” Mark said, “but I think we should at least try to come up with someting of our own. To show them we’re capable of more than just follow orders.”
“He’s right, love,” I said. “We insisted on solving things our way, so it’s only logical that we show them we’re serious about it and not just waiting for them to settle things for us.”
Nudjia, her arms still around my waist, whispered: “I’m scarred Damon. You don’t know vhat these men arre up to. We neverr met these two. They could be totally rreckless, vorrse than theirr brrotherrs. They might even be rready to hunt and kill. Please don’t go afterr them, it’s too dangerrous.”
But there was no turning back. We had made up our minds and told the others we would be doing things our way. We couldn’t back off now, no way. With Sarge’s and Louis’ help we would hunt down the Russians. Not that we weren’t afraid. After all we knew from what they’d done to Tiko that these people were more than dangerous. But we really wanted to put an end to the suffering. And also we just didn’t know any better ….
So I took her face in my hands and while she closed her eyes - she guessed what she had coming - I explained her why I needed to do this. We had all agreed and that was it.
She looked at me with her big brown eyes and said: “OK Damon, I know I cannot stop you. And I vill not question yourr decision. I’ll go with you thrrough thick and thin, even if it means going back thrrough hell. Just prromise me one thing: listen to me vhen I tell you to get out, because then things will rreally get nasty. Then therre vill be no otherr way out Damon. Prromise me. Believe me, I know.”
I promised and we kissed. For a moment we were so tight that it almost felt as if we were exchanging souls …
It didn’t make us come up with a plan, though. We still didn’t know where to look for the guys nor if they worked on their own or had a whole bunch of freaks protecting them. Maybe things were even worse and they were just one tiny cell of a worldwide operating gang. Lucy’s idea of looking for Russian names in the L.A. phone book was out of this earth.
Nudjia and Mark suggested we’d ask girls on certain streets for help. Quote was reading  ‘The collected mumbo-jumbo of W.C.Fields’  and Tiko had started grinning again. After I came to the conclusion that our collective thinking didn’t get us any closer to a workable plan, I walked over to the huge double doors, knocked twice and entered.