Chapter Seventeen

The first week at the monastery passed slowly. Hep and Scroat began to get into the pattern of daily life, not without some protest. Although Hep had no trouble waking up at five o’clock in the morning each day, Scroat complained at great length about it every morning. There was oatmeal for breakfast every morning, some variety of rice and beans for lunch every afternoon, and a simple dinner each evening.

Since Hep and Scroat weren’t really researchers, and weren’t really able to fervently believe the world was going to end today, they mostly just hung around and tried to stay out of the way of the monks who were busy researching and fervently believing. There were a few simple tasks they were able to do for the monks, but cleaning and running errands are not to most engaging activities for a pair of gods. Once again, they found they were hopelessly bored. Hep wished for a book of knots and a couple lengths of rope. Scroat wished for a bar and a stash of porn.

On the morning of the 8th day of their stay, after breakfast, Hep said to Scroat, “Maybe we should go for a ride today.”

“That’s the best fucking idea I’ve heard in a week,” Scroat said. “Let’s go right now.”

Hep left a message for Brother Larry, just saying that they’d probably be back late, and not to wait up for them.

The bikes were exactly where they’d left them, but were now covered with a fine layer of dust. Hep felt somewhat ashamed at this, but Scroat barely noticed. Dusty or not, the bikes both started immediately, and the two of them were on the highway in a matter of minutes. They decided they might as well ride East, since they’d already seen what laid West of there.

It was a sunny day, and the temperature was perfect. The roads were in good shape, so Hep and Scroat didn’t spare the throttle as they rode. Winnett was rather run down, they discovered. They stopped in front of a house that had apparently fallen sideways into it’s foundation. “Free” was spraypainted on the front of the house.

“You want a free house?” Hep asked Scroat.

“It’s probably better than what we’ve got right now,“ Scroat said.

“Yeah, probably,” Hep said.

“So what the Hell are we doing here in Montana, anyway?” Scroat said.

Hep thought about it for a minute. Really, they’d been unusually passive ever since they found their house burning down. It was someone else’s idea that they sail with Poseidon. It was someone else’s idea that they head to Montana and hang out with a bunch of secretive monks with one of the stranger philosophies he’d heard. Who the hell was driving their lives right now, anyway?

It was easy to excuse his own passivity when Ares showed up while their house burned down, After all, finding the house engulfed in flames was a bit of a shock. And there really wasn’t much they could do once they were on the boat in the middle of the ocean unless swimming seemed like a better option, but now? Now there was nothing stopping them from going where ever they wanted, or from doing whatever they wanted. So why hang out with a bunch of monks?

“I don’t know. Recovering, maybe? Maybe we needed a week of quiet. But I think we should probably get out of here. Tomorrow. We’ll pack our things up tonight, have a last bowl of oatmeal with our hosts, and go someplace else.”

“Vegas?”

“No! Let’s track down Inktomi and find out what he knows. Maybe stay in his house and eat all his food for a couple of weeks before we drag him back to the desert and make him help us rebuild.”

“Now you’re talking,” Scroat said. “though I have to admit, blowing off some steam somewhere between Inktomi’s house and rebuilding ours might be a good thing.”

“We’ll talk about it when we get to that point, OK?”

“OK.”

They heard footsteps to their left, and turned to see who was approaching. It was a man who looked to be about sixty years old, wearing a green plaid shirt, worn jeans, and work boots.

“How are you guys doing?” he asked them.

“Just fine, thanks,” Hep said. “Just stopped to take a look at this house. It’s not something you see every day.”

“No, it sure isn’t. It’s kind of funny, and kind of tragic. They moved that house here from some other place, and screwed up when they set it on the new foundation. It fell in crooked like that, and they couldn’t figure out how to get it out again. Sort of a waste.”

“Yeah, seems like it. What happened to the people who moved the house here?”

“Well, they moved somewhere else,” the man said.

“Someplace here in town?”

“No. I figure they took a look around here, and figured that if their house went in crooked like that, well, maybe this town wasn’t where they were meant to be. Of course, there aren’t too many people who figure this town is where they’re meant to be. There’s just a few of us left.”

“What happened here?”

“Aw, they found oil here back in the forties, then it dried up. Then the farmers left and now there’s just a few of us that liked it so much we thought we’d stay here.”

This guy seemed like he was content to just stay there and talk all afternoon.

“Now we pretty much just cater to a few hunters that wander through, and travellers like you guys who just happen to end up here.”

“Sounds like it sucks,” Scroat said.

“Nah, it’s pretty nice. There’s plenty of good hunting around here, and we’ve got a nice laid back lifestyle.”

“Cool. So have you got a bar?” Scroat said.

“As a matter of fact we do. Just down the road here you’ll find the Kozy Korner. They’ve got beer and wine, though between you and me, I’d stick to the beer. They’ve got good food, too, if you’re hungry. I’ll probably head over there myself, later on.”

“That sounds pretty good. I think we’ll go check it out,” Hep said.

“Tell them Jim Halver sent you. They won’t do anything special for you, but they’re going to ask you sooner or later. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“All right. You have a good day,” Hep said.

He and Scroat started their bikes and rolled away from the curb. About two blocks away, they found the Kozy Korner Bar & Cafe. They parked next to a couple of pickup trucks that looked like they had survived several wars, and had the scars to prove it.

“We could have just walked,” Hep said.

“Yeah, but what fun would that be?”

The walked into the Kozy Korner Bar & Cafe, and took a look around. They immediately spotted the bar, and walked up to it. It was worn, but clean. There were a couple of men sitting at the far end of the bar who looked up with some interest at Hep and Scroat. Hep nodded to them.

After a few minutes, the bartender came out of the back. He saw Hep and Scroat, and eventually made it over to where they were standing.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“I’d like your largest, coldest beer, please. And if the kitchen is open, a bacon cheeseburger, medium rare, with fries,” Hep said.

“OK. We’ve got Budweiser and Bud Light, what’s your pleasure?”

“Budweiser will do just fine.”

“All right. How about you there, partner?”

“What he’s having,” Scroat said.

“Sounds good. I’ll get your order in to the kitchen right away, it’ll be just a few minutes.”

The bartender vanished again for several minutes. When he came back, he started pouring their beers.

“So what brings you guys to town? And how did you find us?”

“Jim Halver told us we should stop in here. As for us, we were just out for a ride and thought a beer and a burger sounded pretty good,” Hep said.

“Yeah, Jim’s in here almost every day. So far as I can tell, that guy doesn’t ever go home until he can’t avoid it, and I can’t say I blame him. His wife’s kind of overbearing. Luckily, she doesn’t come in here too much.”

The two guys at the end of the bar chuckled to themselves.

“That’s too bad,” Hep said. “He seems like a decent fellow.”

“Yeah, Jim’s all right. So, are you guys on your way anywhere, or just cruising around under the big sky?”
“We were staying with some friends a little ways away. We’re heading East again in the morning.”

“Are these friends of yours anyone I might know?” the bartender asked.

“I kind of doubt it. They’re a bunch of monks.”

The bartender had been cleaning glasses, but he stopped and looked up at them. “The Order of Patmos guys? I don’t know them, but of course, I know of them. There aren’t a whole lot of people out here, after all. Are you religious folks?”

“Not as such,” Hep said.

A bell rang somewhere. The bartender set down the glass he was drying.

“That’ll be your burgers. I’ll have them right up,” he said. He disappeared once more. When he came back, he had two plates overflowing with french fries and a couple of beautiful cheeseburgers.

“Do you need ketchup or anything?” he asked.

“No, this will be fine,” Hep said.

“How about a couple more beers?”

“Hell yeah!” Scroat said.

Hep and Scroat ate their burgers with the kind of enthusiasm you only see in a man who has been eating monk’s rations for a week. The burgers were charred, and juicy and greasy and perfect. The bartender brought a couple more beers, which vanished quickly.

Before long, Hep and Scroat were friends with the guys at the end of the bar, and kept making new friends as more and more of the locals wandered in.

While Scroat was hitting on a blonde woman, Hep was engrossed in conversation with a farmer about the best way to get a gummed up tractor running again. They were debating the merits of just dumping a bottle of Seafoam in the fuel versus pulling apart the carburetor and giving it a thorough soak in solvent when Hep heard voices raised in anger. He noticed the bartender was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

“What do you think you’re doing with my wife, little man?” an angry man with a brown mustache and a red trucker’s cap said. He was standing directly in front of Scroat, and his nose was about an inch away from Scroat’s.
“Who are you calling little man, Pinnochio? Anyway, I’m not doing anything with your wife, yet, since you had to go and interrupt me before I could give her the best night of her life.”

“What did you say?” the angry man said. His face was now bright red, and he was shaking with rage.

“Oh, crap,” Hep said.

“I said if you hadn’t shown up I was going to bend her over my motorcycle and fuck her until she sang Ava Maria, and then I was going to fuck her some more until all she could do was make crazy monkey noises. Nice going, cockblocker.”

Scroat looked away and finished off the rest of his beer. He set down his much and said, “And then I was going to ask her if she has a sister.”

Her husband swung a wild fist at Scroat, who ducked it and punched him in the gut. The man doubled over as the air whooshed out of him.

“Come on,” Scroat said, “we don’t have to be like this. Let me buy you a beer.” He looked around for the bartender. “Hey! Bartender! Where did you go? We need a couple of brewskies out here!”

He turned back in time to see the man lunging at him. They knocked over a couple of bar stools on the way to the ground. There was some confusion as several people tried to get away from the fight, while others gathered around to watch.

Scroat boxed the guy’s left ear, which distracted him enough for Scroat to get both hands free. He pushed the man off of him and stood up, then kicked his attacker in the side. “Are we done?” he asked.

The man groaned and stayed where he was.

“Dammit anyway. Here I was just trying to have a good time and some fuckhead has to go and start a fight.” Scroat dug out his wallet and left a couple of twenties on the bar. “Let’s go, Hep.”

Hep looked around at the crowd, who looked like they were about to get violent any minute.

“Yeah, OK,” He said.

They went outside, and had just gotten their bikes started when the crowd spilled out and came towards them.

“You can’t come to our town and cause shit like that!” one of the locals said.

Hep put his bike in gear, said, “Yeah, sorry about that. He’s been kinda cooped up,” then grabbed a big handful of throttle and hauled ass away from the Kozy Korner. Scroat followed close behind him.

They got back to the monastery shortly afterwards. Hep glared at Scroat.

“Oops,” Scroat said.

“Yeah, we just gave our hosts a bad name in that place.”

“That’s OK. Sounds like they probably don’t go there too often,” Scroat said.