Hi, I'm Zachariah, head of Bikers for Jesus, Sinking Springs Chapter. And
these are my buddies:
Domingo - Yo!
Caleb - Howdy!
Ishmael - Likewise!
Lobo - Ung!
Let's ride boys! Let's ride for Jesus!
We leave Montoya's Elkhorn Cafe and head for our bikes, a little groggy
from our long breakfast but anxious from all that coffee. Between the five of us we
consumed 2 1/1lbs of bacon, 3 dozen eggs, 2 lbs each of ham, sausage, pork chops and
chicken fried steak, two loaves of toast, 30 blue corn pancakes, five sticks of butter, a
half liter of syrup, 10 glasses of orange juice and 30 cups of coffee. We'll be back next
Sunday for sure. The bikes shift and groan as springs adjust themselves, our taunt
leathers creak. We are off!
Off on a mission! A mission for Jesus!
One year ago today I stood by the river, I stood there to do what a gallon
of vodka and two ounces of cocaine couldn't, chase away the flaming stars, the whiz of
shrapnel, the endless recurring Hell dream of Nam, the knowledge that no one, not friends
nor children nor lady could take what I'd become, I couldn't take what I'd become. Jump
into the river and drown, not even a great notion...not even that...and then, as I
teetered on the banks, the Reverend Dr R appeared in his long black coat, thin and gaunt,
long greasy black hair, pale thin face w/ a nasty smear of acne down one side, like a
junkie, my first thought...who's this junkie? But he came
over to me and handed me a wafer, the Sacred Host, yes, I took it without thinking, and
then I looked into his eyes, those amazing blue eyes, and then it happened, I found Jesus,
and the pain and memory disappeared, the will to drink and do drugs...Vanished....all in
an instant...and he gave me four more wafers and a bag of blue rocks, powerful blue
like his eyes...and warm, they were blessed by God, yes, warm and lucky...and so I went a
searchin' for the other four...it wasn't hard...in the dives an cesspools of this very
county I found them...Domingo, I had to pull the needle out of his arm, Caleb was on his
death bed, dying of TB, Ishmael lying in an alleyway w/ his pants down and a massive head
injury, and Lobo...well you just don't want to know where I found Lobo...or what he was
doing....
Nam vets all w/ a history of horror...but we prospered...Hallelujah
did we prosper, cured of our sins and our precious good luck, our lovely, lovely rocks.
Bikers for Jesus, we ride for the Lord...
A month ago, the worst started to happen, the rocks, they started getting smaller.
It didn't make sense, but they were shrinking...and then I noticed, no, not shrinking, but
melting, every morning they left a damp spot and a very faint tinge of
blue. We were in a panic, we couldn't have them analyzed, couldn't part w/
them, and then, yesterday morning...GONE...nothing, we made
our plans, no way could we return to what we had been. We prayed and wept, but made our
plans, today we would ride, in formation, ninety miles an hour offa Bonedead Hill...but
last night amid an awful dream of sin, the faint whine of gunships, stink of jungle, he
returned!..the Reverend Dr R..and I awoke w/ a great cry of Joy!
Take LightShining Creek Rd for two miles, turn left
at the Black Crows, another mile bearing left always 'till you get to a locked gate, walk
two more miles to an oil seep and a fallen tree and there they'll be, God's Gift! Let's
Ride Boys!
After two hours we finally found the turnoff, funny how we'd missed it so
many times before.
LightShining Creek, the Shining Light, Light to
banish the Evil One, warm blue rocks to banish our sorrows!
LightShining Creek Rd. runs through a narrow canyon up into the mountains.
The area had been clear-cut a hundred years before, fire wood for the Tannery, now regrown
but sparse, stunted. Nice houses here but funny, all new, and all made of metal siding,
including the roof. Halfway up a cliff and half hidden in the pines runs a linear ruin,
like the skeleton of one side of a long wooden town, but no side streets, continuous, it
vanishes up a side canyon. Here and there on the valley floor are these grey metal
mushroom structures, they look like vents...
Whatcha think those are Domingo?
Don't care just want them rocks!
I'm with ya!
It is getting dark, although a little after 3, weather on its way.
Suddenly we turn a corner and there, on a dirt road, is a massive flock of Black Crows.We
gun our engines and plow through them, they caw angrily as they flee before our machines..
Begone Spawn of Satan!
The road is dusty and dark and heavily rutted. Suddenly the wind picks up
and it starts rain, icy needles coming down in sheets, large chunks of thick hail.We don
our leather hoods. The dust on the road turns into a thick black mud, slick as snot, it
gums up our tires, Caleb slides sideways into an embankment.
We are being tested boys, can't let a little rain
stop us!
Finally we slip and slide to a halt before a massive steel gate, covered
with warnings and Private Road signs. A thick chain and lock, looks like someone had been
banging on it w/ a rock. But on the inside. No more bikes, now we go on foot.
Patrol formation, I'll take point! Lobo! Hunt!
Lobo hunt...
The rain has stopped, we move through a dark steaming forest, our vision a
vaporous blur. Then, a slight clearing, we step into it, wary...
SPLAT!
at my feet a white goo...
SPLAT! SPLAT!
I look up, not those damn crows? No...a flock of ducks??? We are
being shit on by ducks!
I'm hit!
I'm hit!
Ambush! White tracers shear the gloom. A tree explodes to my right. Greasy
black smoke of napalm. In the clearing a water buffalo is burning. Copters direct rocket
fire into a distant hill. I hear a sound, turn w/ a scream and a burst of fire...and
decapitate a small brown
child...............................................................................................
.......................................................................................................
.......................................................................................................
We awaken to a clear sky fading into twilight. We are lying by a large
fallen tree. Across the way what looks like oil seeps from the bottom of a small hill. And
scattered on the ground, the blue rocks. We gather them quickly and take off. No one says
a word. It's a long silent journey home...
