“Sadly my garb hath disappeared,” Hatchet said. “These wrinkled old folk have a mischievous side.”
A helicopter buzzed the beach and disappeared behind a rock-strewn hill topped with a clump of trees. The beach party looked like it was winding down. The band was packing up, and the tiki hut was no longer serving drinks. Some of the partiers were sprawled on the beach, soaking up the last of the sun, and the rest were standing in small groups talking. They were still naked, and none of them were getting any younger. I saw a lot of gray hair, no hair, and skin cancer. The ravages of gravity on the human body over the years was sobering.
Several people waved to Hatchet when we crossed the beach to get to the helipad.
“Hey, Hatchet,” one of the men yelled. “How’s it hanging?”
“Yoo-hoo, Hatchet honey,” a little white-haired lady called out. “Come over here and show us your sword.”
“They be a wild and rowdy crowd,” Hatchet said.
We reached the helicopter, and Hatchet got in first, giving us a view of the Grand Canyon when he bent over to take a seat.
“I’m not sitting next to him,” I said to Diesel.
“Me, either,” Glo said.
“Me, either,” Josh said.
Wulf reached in and yanked Hatchet out of the helicopter. The pilot wiped the seat down with hand sanitizer and sprayed the cabin with air freshener.
When we lifted off, Hatchet was on the ground, waving to us and shouting farewell.
“Will he be okay?” I asked Wulf. “He has no clothes and no money.”
“He’s quite resourceful,” Wulf said. “He’ll be fine.”
—
It was dark when Diesel and I got home. We let ourselves in and went to the kitchen. Cat was on the counter, gnawing on a chicken potpie. Carl was eating peanut butter out of the jar with his finger. Cabinet doors were open and cereal boxes were on the floor.
“Looks like Carl made dinner,” I said.
Carl looked over and smiled.
Diesel put the skull in the microwave for safekeeping. “First thing tomorrow we’ll visit Nergal.”
“I’m not sure we’ll learn anything of value,” I said. “This guy’s been dead for hundreds of years, and the real task we have now is finding Martin Ammon and relieving him of the stone.”
“You never know,” Diesel said. “It could be interesting. You said you had to pry the stone out of his hand.”
A chill ran down my spine at the memory. “It was creepy. I broke off two of his fingers!”
My clothes were still damp and caked with sea salt. My shoes squished when I walked. And I was starving. I made a cheese sandwich, told Diesel he was on his own, and took my sandwich upstairs with me. I locked myself in my bathroom and peeled my clothes off while I ate the sandwich. I stepped under a scalding hot shower, closed my eyes, and thought I was in heaven. I opened my eyes when Diesel stepped into the shower with me.
“Hey!” I said. “This is my shower.”
“Not anymore,” Diesel said. “Now it’s our shower.”
Diesel poured some of my shower gel into his hands and worked up a lather.
“This smells nice,” Diesel said.
“It used to smell like lemon, but now it smells like cookies baking. How do you do that?”
“I don’t do it. It just happens.”
He ran his soapy hands over my shoulders and down my arms.