Page 17 of Mouse Trapped

Halfway through the visit he opens yet another can of coke, I’m still drinking my second. “Your bike’s a bit better than the one you started on,” he observes.

I chuckle. “You could say that.”

“Where the fuck did your grandfather get it from?”

“The scrap, I think.” Which makes him laugh.

Yeah, that would have been believable. Grampa had known I was getting restless without some form of transport. He couldn’t afford to buy me a car, so he picked up a heap of metal that was barely recognisable as a motorcycle. My eyes glaze as memories take me back.

“What the fuck is that, Gramps?”

He glares, but doesn’t correct my language. “That, my boy, is your new way of getting around.”

Throwing him a look as if he’s crazy, I walk around the pile of junk, leaning heavily and precariously on its stand, looking like a breath of wind would topple it. I kick the two tires, bare in places, what remains has hardly any tread at all. “Looks more like a death trap.”

“Just needs a bit of love and attention,” the old man says. Then, putting his hand on my shoulder, he continues, “We’ll do it together.”

That’s exactly what we did. New tires, brakes, exhaust, and we rebuilt the engine. At last it was finished, and I was able to ride. From the very first time I sat astride it, I was completely and utterly in love.

We hadn’t bothered about the aesthetics, it still looked like a rat, but went like the wind.

“Thought I was going to come off, first time you took me on it.” Billy looks over with a wide grin. “Thought you were going to pay me back for putting you on that horse.”

The corners of my mouth turn up. “Thought about it,” I admit, then smirk. “Especially when you screamed.”

“Did not.”

“Did.”

His wife, who’s nursing their youngest child, looks up. “You sound like a couple of kids.” Her voice drips with amused scorn. One of the older children giggles. I enjoy the visit, enjoy hearing about Billy’s life on the Rez, while he relishes in hearing about mine with the Devils. Sitting here I feel completely at home and relaxed. Life in Tucson seems a million miles away.I’m not ready to go back yet.

I promise to visit again soon, then take my leave of Billy and his family, and go back to my bike to ride home. While we used to be neighbours, when my mom and gramma moved, it put a fair distance between us.

A sudden gust of wind takes me unawares. My bike stays steady, but the strangeness of the breeze blowing up out of nowhere gets to me. Despite scoffing at myself, I look in my rearview mirror, half expecting to see a coyote lolloping after me.Mouse, you’ve been listening to too many stories.But still, as I ride on, I keep checking behind. What seems impossible in Tucson isn’t inconceivable here.

Laughing at the feeling of relief I get when finally I draw up, unmolested by a skin-walker, outside the hogan, I put down the stand and am conscious of my phone vibrating in my pocket.Trouble?Could be.

“Mouse,” I answer without thinking, expecting it to be Drummer.

“Er, I wanted to talk to Tse?”

“You got him.” Hardly anyone apart from my family calls me by my government name. I grow cautious. “Who’s this?”

“You might not remember me, but my name’s Drew. Andrew De Souza. Mariana’s brother.”

Mariana.The girl I can’t get out of my head.The girl, last night, I dreamed about.“What’s happened?”

A noise which sounds suspiciously like a sob reaches my ear. “She’s been arrested.”

“What for?” I ask sharply, while clenching my fist.Someone was after her. The authorities.My dream had been right to warn me.

“I’m not sure, she rang me, but we didn’t have long to talk. I didn’t know who to call, but you’d left your number. The card was stuck to the fridge. Shit, Tse, I’m sorry. I just… There’s no one. What should I do?”

“Slow down. Take a breath. What did they arrest her for?”

“She was stopped at a red light. Someone ran into her.”

That isn’t a crime. What’s going on?