Fantasma del Diablo

Untitled Part 1

She came straight out of the burning train, walking toward me.

I use the rangefinder on my Olympus to close the distance; not a scratch on her. What-the-hell.

I put down the camera and the distance distortion catches me by surprise. She's way closer than I thought. Smooth steps crunch the gravel, but I feel the intent in those rolling hips. Definitely something about her.

"You must be the one."

What a voice. A pretty smile beams out from under dark locks and aviator sunglasses.

"Huh? The one what? What the hell happened over there?"

She leans on my window like she's ordering a malt shake. Despite my caution and the strangeness of it all, I'm open for business.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, handsome. Smoke?"

The mystery woman shakes two Lucky Strikes loose from a soft pack. My hand hesitates but then takes one after pressing the truck lighter by reflex. I quit eight months ago. Dammit.

"Shouldn't even be smoking these."

The lighter pops out and she laughs, leaning toward me to puff hers alight. Her scent fights tooth and nail through the cloying tobacco smoke.

"You know what Bukowski says about that, handsome?"

"No, what?"

"Find what you love and let it kill you."

"Wow, that's a little fatalistic."

She shrugs. "There are days when I understand it."

"Is today one of those days?"

She smiles. "Are you saying you love me already?"

I smile back. "If I do, does that mean you're gonna kill me?"

We share a laugh as she peers over her sunglasses.

"What's your name?"

"Rick Springfield."

We shake hands.

"Well, Rick, I'm Barbara Kicking Bird Orencia."

Wow. Yep, figures. We keep on smiling and share an electric stare. I realize I'm still holding her hand and let it go. I know I'm going to regret this, but...

"I'm gonna ask if you need a ride now, okay?"

She opens the door and slides in. Great legs, beautiful skin. The wonderful scent of a woman fills the cab. I try not to stare.

"Thank you, honestly. You know I had a dream about this, about finding three things today."

Here we go. My brain is flashing red alert, but my heart tunes it out. I take a drag off the Lucky Strike and fiddle with my Seabee ring, but then I start the truck and justify her words.

"You look American Indian. That's a shamanic thing, right? Your religion and all?"

"Well, sort of, but I'm Catholic. My mom's Mexican, so yeah. I just have these dreams and they guide me."

"So what are they?"

"Huh? Oh, the three things. Now don't laugh. Sometimes they seem weird or crazy until they happen."

"Okay, I've gone along with this so far. Lay it on me."

Barbara drags deep on her cigarette. She's squirming, quite different from the cocksure mystery woman I met moments ago. My brow is knit and my jaw is clenched. She clenches her jaw too and breaths out.