There were so many of them running across the field. So many. We hid in the drainage tunnel under the road. They had dogs. That was us, in the darkness, looking from one tunnel exit to the other and back for hours, hearing voices and barks echo down the curved metal walls. I don’t know how long we were down there for. A day? Two days? It smelled like death in there. I even drank some of the water. You ate rats. Remember that? That must have been day two. I watched you turn from from buttoned-down hostess into this hideous creature smeared with rat blood. Coming out of there our clothes stank so bad. We lived out in the desert for a few more days after that. We made a little oven out of some corrugated metal and slept in it at night when it was cool enough.

I started wishing I’d eaten those rats too. I’d hallucinate these rabbits hopping giant hops across the scrubby desert. Almost like they were flying, silhouetted against the sun. We should catch some of them rabbits, I told you. You gave me this face. What the fuck are you talking about?

The RABBITS! We should catch some and eat them! Instead of rats!

Where are you fucking seeing rabbits? That’s when I stared at you and realized the heat and starvation was getting the better of me. Because the rabbits were everywhere, crawling and hopping all over the place. So when the Captain showed up I didn’t believe in him either. If he hadn’t shown up there is no doubt in my mind that we’d both have eventually charred to death in that oven.

Instead we were back on the highway, stowed in a container his truck was pulling. We both got a set of woman’s clothes -mine were way too tight. Yours looked good that way. The captain took us all the way to Massachusetts, tossing us bags of fast food now and then and we gradually got our strength back. He dropped us off by a strip club in Revere and we both got jobs there. I got the better job- mopping up the place at the end of the night.

We crashed in a closet in the back of the place until we had enough money for an apartment. When we got a little more money and had guns again we hit the road.

After all these years I can’t believe you never got busted. I’ve been in and out so many times it’s just about normal now. But you never got busted once. When I went straight you still had about another five years in you. Seeing you now in that parking lot with your kids and your Mercedes SUV I wonder what it would take to bring back the old Chrystal, the one I knew when we were teenagers. The one who scared the fuck out of me on more than one occasion. Where did that girl go?

Now I lie on my hammock and drink coffee and read the news on my phone. If I woke up in the middle of the night screaming I’d tell my kids I’d just had a bad dream. I told my son Robbie, Don’t ever play with guns. Of course, kids never listen. Now I got no kids to speak of.

But tell me about this new leaf you turned over. I’d just love to hear a happy ending to all this, I really would.

I stood completely still in the moonlight behind silver foliage, staring at the clearing. There was a rustling and a scraping and hisses and whispers and the nymphs dragged another human body to the crack in the ground and then gently nudged him into the abyss. Just like the first time, they laughed and teased each other before disappearing again into the forest. This time though, one of them stopped to inspect a leaf full of nectar that I had left there. When the others were gone she sat on a log and sniffed the nectar, sampling some with her greenish tongue. She appeared to look directly at me before taking the leaf and spinning off into the shadows.

I went to where the crevice had been and the ground was solid under my feet. Packed dirt. I took a long dagger from my boot and dug in the earth but found only more dirt. What are you digging for? The tall silhouette of my mother loomed above me. Get back on the wagon, she said. I clawed at the dirt with my fingers but there was nothing. Then I stood and brushed past my mother, pulling myself up into the covered wagon where my siblings were all fast asleep. I heard my mother’s hoarse whisper through the canvas, We leave in the morning –so get some sleep!

But in ten minutes I was out there again, staring at the clearing from my usual vantage point. The wind got cold and I heard howling. Then I saw them slowly emerge again from the trees all around. This time their flowing nymph silks were replaced by blood-stained, tattered rags and their eyes were black and sunken. Two moved quickly towards me, mouths gaping open with nine-inch fangs dripping blood. When I felt thin fingers with rough skin encircle my throat I couldn’t move. Before long I’d fallen and the grass and dirt and twigs scraped across my face as I was pulled into the clearing like all the others. I could see the crevice again, a widening blackness, and just as I slid into the void I looked back toward the wagon, seeing my brother swaying there in his nightshirt. In a second he was gone and I disappeared into the earth forever.

You and I used to float for hours, submerged in the barrel of the syringe in the blood and morphine, not needing any air. Then Marvin put his rig into a tight little bundle and back into his grandfather’s medicine bag and swore he’d never touch it again.

I’m back in the room. Someone has a chainsaw going, out on the roof. It must be Walter making his furniture smaller. The dog is lying on the dirty floor, staring at the door.

I started out as the guitarist but now I’m the singer playing bass. Charlie can really play bass we should get him but he’s sick now and I actually think he’s gonna die. He’s not responding. We put Mark on drums. He watches British football and plays Chinese checkers with himself. Or sits running sand through his fingers for hours –when he’s not drumming.

It’s my dog so I have to feed it all the time. That’s why when we don’t get paid I get pissed and fuck shit up. You would too. When are you coming here? I thought you said you and that guy broke up. What was his name –Hiawatha, right? So come on down. I’m actually wondering when/if people ever pay for their sins?

Let’s go outside. Come on. Come on Marvin. Marvin and me walk down to the gas station. We walk down the tracks all the way. Once we saw some serious shit on those tracks. But I’m purposely averting my gaze and honing in on the gas station. I don’t want to see anything today.

Inside the gas station the aisles are at weird angles. I told Marvin but he doesn’t believe me. The shelving looks like it’s about to tip over. Careful! CAFEFUL!!! Marvin is honing in on his purchases and ignores me. A little old man walking his cat on a leash comes in. I can’t even look at him. Come on WHEN are you coming out here? These scrubs are making me crazy! Remember when we built that tree-house in the park? And like lived up there for a week? There aren’t really any parks around here but we could still build something. Come on out and we’ll get some old wood and some nails. Maybe an old door with the paint peeling off and old windows with cracked glass. Build a fucking little shack out by the train tracks! We’d watch the kids go by in the dining car through our busted up old window. We’d watch the ticket-taker watch us as he goes by so fast.

We could have a little box with our food in it. Sleep on a couple of old boards. Play the radio. Write some songs.

I can tell you something else. My old man died. They found him in his kitchen, dead for days. I wrote a song about it. We just played it for Marty. I was jamming and remembering how we’d go down to steal shit from rich people. My Dad used to get so mad. He made me take it all back on Good Friday.

Now I’m waiting outside the gas station. I can’t believe Marvin is still in there. What the fuck, Marvin? You’re keeping me waiting but I gotta get back and get the dog this food. He’s been hungry for days and finally I stole enough for a big full dog meal. I wish that shit could make me happy. I don’t even like food. I don’t like anything really, except music. Music and you, if you’d ever come back, you fucker. Now you’re really pissing me off.

Me and Marvin are back from the gas station trip. I’m sitting here writing a song on Petey’s guitar. It goes something like this: Dad’s dead for days; you ain’t here Purple Haze… That’s all I have so far.