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Eduardo Hernandez, better known as Boo Slim, another Suspicious Activity musician, would have gladly obliged, being a Santeria priest. And that was one of the least strange things about him.
I found myself enjoying AGAB’s music as they played. Sinking into the rhythm helped pass the time and sometimes I found it hard to believe I actually got paid for this strange but fun job, surrounded by such colorful characters, where there was never a dull moment.
Before I knew it, a couple hours had passed by. The recording had officially concluded, and the band was just about ready to leave when, in anonymous unison, all our phones went off at the same time. That sort of thing ensured doom in many movies, so we all took a cautious glance at each other before looking down at our screens. Suddenly the AGAB band members were no longer the scariest thing in the room.
All our phones were lit up with bright blue light cutting through the screens. The same message was displayed on each of them.
ATTENTION
In view of the latest wave of Coronavirus cases, the City of Seattle is implementing a
lockdown effective at noon tomorrow and lasting until further notice. Any citizen
caught breaking the mandated lockdown without good reason will be arrested on sight
and secured in a correctional facility, for their own safety, until the conclusion of the
lockdown. Have a nice day!
“They can’t do that, can they?” AGAB’s vocalist asked, looking dubious.
“Have a nice day, my ass,” their guitarist grumbled.
“The can and they are,” Sven said, with the weary amusement of someone who had seen some shit.
“We can challenge it!” the vocalist shouted, so loud I thought he might strain his precious vocal cords.
“Indeed, you can try, you rebel,” Sven said, “but have fun in prison.”
Before the black-clad behemoth could respond, all our phones went off again, AGAB’s drummer dropping his like it was hot.
“Geez, man,” the bassist admonished, as he retrieved his phone.
“It’s just a text from Seth,” Sven said, reading the one that had been sent to his phone. “He wants everyone to meet at the Suspicious Activity headquarters for an emergency meeting.”
Chapter Two – Adam
The soft metal of my guitar lingers beneath my fingers like water crashing sand, the universe that created these rhythms dancing into my soul like waves on water. The cloth of the blindfold caressed my eyes as the tones danced.
Conscious thought was no longer needed, and my muscle memory was in full control, striking what needed to be struck in perfect time. That was one of the advantages of plying a trade for nearly twenty years.
The final note resonated through the small practice room, and then light returned to the world as the blindfold was removed. Once the bass was gently returned to the stand, I flicked off the amp and vacated the premises until the next time I felt the necessity to play. The mood struck me four or five times a day.
I went into the kitchen to cook breakfast, driving bass pounding from the speakers as I blasted music to give me a beat as I danced around the kitchen. In between doing so, a rather lovely Denver omelet came into being, seemingly out of nothing.
Once my belly was full and my spirits were high, I ventured out on the town, following my Tuesday schedule to the letter. My lack of a day job was no reason for slacking. There was always something that could be done.
Stairs creaking underfoot, I was delivered into the lower pits of the city, where normal people dared not tread. Not in the least because of the deep darkness. Though there were also other reasons that were less easy to explain.
As soon as I stepped into Shadow Realm record store, the owner greeted me happily.
“Adam, long time no see.”
“Hey Ana, how are you doing?”
She had been attacked a while back by religious nuts who thought she was a witch or demon for selling Metal music. And for practicing Wicca or some other sort of modern-day paganism.
“Better, I think.”
“You think?”
“The nightmares have stopped.”
“Well, that’s definitely a good thing.”
“Now I don’t dream at all anymore.”
I couldn’t say I didn’t envy that, but it didn’t seem the best time to tell the truth. A comforting lie might be the much better alternative.
“It will get better, just give it time.”
“It’s been over a year.”
“It takes more time than that, I should think.”
I wasn’t great with anguish, but I still did the best I could to find and say the right words. Ana wasn’t just the owner of my favorite record store, but she was also someone I could almost call a friend.
She’d been through a pretty rough time of things, almost being burned alive and all. It was easy to see why it might take her some time to get better. Experiencing a very horrible near-death experience is not something that can be quickly forgotten.
