Awake Asleep Dreaming Dead by John Siwicki Read Free Book Online Page B

pack were pulled by raw power roaring under the hood. The old truck in front was beat-up, covered in mud, and had a skull and cross-bones painted on the hood. The one hugging its bumper was a new decked-out, chrome-wheeled, shiny toy. The driver of this new oversized Christmas tree ornament was Joe Conrad. He was a good-natured guy, unless there was a reason not to be. He used his truck to go fishing, camping, or occasional road trip. In the box of each truck, sloshing and banging around in steel cattle troughs, was a cargo of ice, beer, and other beverages. Both trucks drove up next to the river bank and parked. The drivers turned off the engines leaving only music blazing through the trees battling for the ear.
    How’s it going birthday boy? Joe asked in his mellow, woody baritone as he stepped out of the truck. Joe was an unstoppable hulk. When he played football in high school he tackled like a boulder rolling down a mountain. A gentle giant always ready to help. Sam was glad they were friends.
    Great! Thanks for coming, Sam said.
    Where’s your girl, birthday boy?
    She’s down by the river. We just got here.
    How does hitting the big 3-0 feel?
    Just another day, Sam said. Older for sure. Wiser, I’m not sure. Let’s head down to the river.
    The driver of the dirty skull covered black Ford was Spratt. He ran a popular watering-hole in Four Corners called The Cutlass. A sinewy and scruffy guy with long locks, and ragged beard. His arms were covered with tattoos of skulls, and he was always chewing on a cigar. He draped and decorated his bar like a pirate ship. There was ornate bogus treasure spread around the bar, an array of swords hanging on the walls, and a Jolly Roger waving out front atop the door. His family moved to Four Corners when he was a kid from parts unknown, and had been friends with Sam ever since. Along with the bar, he owned some land with his girlfriend, Sue. They had an organic farm, and he was one weird wonderful figure selling fresh vegetables at a farmer’s market on weekends.
    Hey, birthday boy, wait-up, Spratt yelled, then jumped out of the truck sporting a grin trailed by a cloud of cigar smoke. How does it feel to be an old man? They shook hands, and took turns punching each other’s shoulder like they always did. Let’s have a beer, he said, and fished out a couple of cans from under the cover of the metal trough.
    Here, catch!
    Hey! Sam yelled, surprised as the can flew toward him, and landed in his open hand.
    Good catch.
    Good throw.
    They held the cans up, clanked them together, then guzzled, and tossed the empties in the truck.
    Bring a lot of this stuff? Sam asked.
    Don’t worry, we’re not running out, he said, and let out a wild howl. Then everyone nearby delivered wails of agreement to news of an unlimited supply of booze that would flow all night long.
    Spratt held out another beer. Here, one more before I fire up the grill. Bottoms up.
    A caravan streamed into the park, with more horns blowing, people hollering, engines revving and roaring. A crowd of more than fifty friends, and relatives, showed up for the river barbecue birthday party at The Forty that day. Some of the older folks and relatives stayed a few hours, a few left early, others spent the whole day. The diehards were there all night howling at the moon.
    The music blared as a guy put on a show juggling cans of beer, and for a penalty, drank the ones he dropped. Free beer was too good a deal to pass-up, and people who had no idea what was happening showed up, joined in, and partied under the moonlight and stars.
    Sam’s windows were rolled down to let in the cool evening breeze, and all around voices lingered in the trees. The river rambled under a full moon, and reflections from it beamed romantic signals to anyone in close proximity through a silent and mysterious language. Tones hovered on a familiar sweet waft of Cheech and Chong as sporadic spirited shrieks of guys and girls broke between roaring engines of