February 7, 2011

Except for the first few paragraphs of each chapter, I took Dead Ginny off the net in 2005 but if you want to read and/or listen to the sucker for free, click this. Thanks. G.


Gerard Jones

Chapter Fourteen
La Honda

La Honda's a little backwoods mountain town halfway between San Francisco and Santa Cruz. Cassady dropped himself off up by Kesey's and Ginny and I rented a cabin by a steamy blacktop road across from a vast, primeval redwood forest, bought a bag of groceries, and each took a single small speckled orange pill. It was late afternoon. The sun was about to go down. Nothing happened for awhile. The bed in the cabin was soft and springy. Ginny's Buick was the only car in the lot. What sunlight came through the small dusty windows was filtered by overhanging fir trees. There was a hooked rug on the floor. I put the groceries on the night stand beside the bed. The first thing I noticed was a tingling little itch in my throat. But deeper. Like somewhere down inside the autonomic nervous system of my esophagus. Ginny and I looked at each other. She must have been feeling the same tingling itch. Then nothing much else happened for another little while.

We went outside, across the steamy blacktop road and into the redwood forest. It was still warm. The end of a day that had been hot. Insects became more noticeable, was the first indication I got that something was up. Flies and gnats had always left little, like, vapor trails behind them in the air, but the vapor trails I was beginning to see seemed to be lasting a bit longer than usual. Hm. The itch in my esophagus had extended to my chest and was working its way down into the pit of my stomach. The last of the sun's rays showed spider's webs covered everything. That wasn't unusual, either. In the woods, just before the sun goes down, spider's webs do cover everything. But these spider's webs were thicker than usual. They were, like, replicating themselves as I watched—and pretty soon the whole forest floor was half an inch deep with spider's webs, sparkling like snow. Now, that wasn't usual; that was sort of unusual, in fact. The floor of a forest on a warm day in the middle of May doesn't sparkle like snow. Something was definitely up.

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Gerard Jones
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