..

Zandra shifts in her spot on the couch to get at the sheathed lawnmower knife under her sleeve. Her body feels like it's been unzipped and stuffed with gravel overnight. The sluggishness radiates from places deeper and less familiar than she's accustomed. A hard, sharp cough rattles her joints into motion.

Chad claws at the small-link chain around his neck, gurgling in confusion. Or for help. Or something else.

What's he trying to say?

Zandra doesn't wait for clarity. She hobbles to her feet and shows the knife, despite her eyes not quite ready for the light of day. She can only see Chad and the chain.

Did Bexley finally get tired of Chad's shit?

"No, no, stop!" Bexley says from across the room, away from Chad.

Guess not.

Bexley's shouting isn't for whomever strangles Chad, though.

"Holy shit, put the knife away, Zandra," Bexley says.

Zandra rubs her eyes with her free hand. Now she can better see what's going on. A man jerks Chad up off the floor with a chain beneath the chin. He could be a copy-paste of Chad, albeit with more facial hair. Zandra sheaths the knife, taking extra care not to catch her skin on the edge. It's tricky with shaky hands.

Fuck, my ankle is hurting again.

Zandra coughs into her sleeve.

That's back, too.

"Enough, Ray," Bexley says to the man with the chain. "Don't make me mace you like last time."

"Only way to get th'se junkiesth awake," Ray says and drops one end of the chain, releasing Chad.

Chad shifts to all fours and pukes into a bowl of weeks-old cereal.

Ray laughs and kicks the bowl over. The carpet adds another stain. "That's why they call me Choke You Ray, bitch."

What the hell?

Zandra reconsiders putting the knife away.

"I'm awake, I'm awake. Fuck," Chad says in a sputter, still on all fours.

Bexley yawns and stretches.

Why doesn't she seem concerned?

"And who ith thith?" Choke You Ray, as Ray is apparently called, says at Zandra.

Zandra lets Bexley answer.

"You know that one psychic?" Bexley says.

Choke You Ray looks Zandra up and down. "I thought you were famouth. How bad did you fuck up to be hanging around my stupid ath couthin?"

Ray lisps on the S sounds. Zandra can't see his teeth. She also can't think of a comeback in her soggy mental condition, so she answers with, "You're Chad's cousin?"

"Yeah, and his healer," Choke You Ray says. He touches a hand to a gold necklace around his neck.

Sensing a pattern here.

Zandra notices a pendant hanging off Choke You Ray's gold necklace. It's a symbol she's seen before. Its swirling lines remind her of the contours of a conch shell.

The Cho Ku Rei. In reiki, the symbol focuses energy from the universe.

Reiki being the practice of energy healing.

And also the practice of taking money for tracing symbols on clients and waving hands around in the air like kneading taffy. I should've gone into that. The marks typically have more money.

Perhaps.

And perhaps Choke You Ray knows this, or maybe he doesn't, but one thing is for sure: Ray notices Zandra noticing the Cho Ku Rei pendant.

"I do energy work," Ray says.

"You sell drugs," Zandra says.

"Yeah, and I altho do energy work. I'm a healer. The drugth my method of choice," Ray says. He holds the pendant out for Zandra to see. "Look, I draw thith thymbol on my product. People get healed. Thimple."

Bexley helps Chad get to his feet and says, "We helped heal Zandra last night. Tell him, Zandra. You were walking around like that ankle didn't bother you, weren't you? I didn't hear you cough, either."

Behold, the logic that develops when bullshit is free based in its rawest form. Anyone can claim to practice reiki, just like anyone can be a drug dealer. It's not like you need to be licensed, bonded, and insured to adjust someone's chakras. Neither does someone selling drugs. Here we have the worst of both worlds. "Choke You Ray." Fuuuuck me, that's stupid.

"Hey, cuz, next time give me a minute, OK? That hurt," Chad says, now somewhat back to stasis.

"Cheer up," Ray says with his toothless lisp. He slaps Chad on the back. Chad nearly pukes again. "I didn't go hard on you. I kept it all under the chin. Didn't even touch the Adamth apple. Nah, I juth thought I'd thop by to thee who ith around, thee if they need anything."

"We're fresh out of cash, but maybe we could work something out?" Bexley says.

"No money? Aw, that too bad. I can come back another time," Ray says.

"We're good for it. Promise."

"I'll come back later. We'll talk then, work thomething out."

That'd be great if you left, Ray, but I need to ask you something first.

Zandra reaches out for the Cho Ku Rei pendant. She grabs it and feigns interest in the reiki symbol.

"This is powerful. You must've received special training," Zandra says, twisting the pendant in the dim daylight cutting through the dust of the room.

"I'm a reiki mather," Ray says.

"And did the same person who taught you how to be a reiki master give you the healing items, too?" Zandra says.

"She means the drugs," Chad says.

Thanks, Chad.

Ray yanks the pendant back. "Are you a cop?"

Zandra shrugs. "If I was, would I say I was?"

Ray turns to Bexley, exasperated. "I remember now. I thaw it on the newth. Thith thychic workth with the copth. And you two idioth brought her here?"

"No, no, it isn't like that," Bexley says. "We know her. She partied with us last night. Cops can't do that."

Ray spins back toward Zandra and sayth, "Ith thith true?"

You're asking me?

"I'm not a cop. I've also worked with the police. Both are true," Zandra says, waving away the stink rolling out of Ray's mouth.

Ray leans in closer to Zandra and sniffs. "I don't like thith one."

"Fine. Leave," Zandra says, staying in place.

Ray wrinkles his nose and stomps out of the living room, but not before slapping Chad across the face.

"Love you, too, cuz. See you at Christmas," Chad says and rubs his cheek.

There goes that lead. I'll need to find another way to unload that haul at the bottom of Devil's Hole.

It isn't all bad news, though.

Zandra slips a plastic packet twice the size of a postage stamp into the deep pocket of her purple gown. The packet is filled halfway with brown powder.

Behold, Choke You Ray, hands that get real work done. Pickpockets don't need reiki. They just need distractions.

"Well, that sucked," Chad says.

"You OK?" Bexley says to Chad.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, at least he didn't stab me this time."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

Would you two like me to leave for a few minutes?

Zandra keeps her hand in the pocket with the packet. "What was that last night? The stuff you gave me."

Chad hesitates. Bexley doesn't.

"Nothing crazy," Bexley says. "Just heroin."

Oh, good. The thing I like so much is the yardstick for addictiveness that all other substances are compared against.

"Look, my cousin's an asshole, but he doesn't sell bad stuff, like you hear about on the news," Chad says and wipes his glasses on a rag. The smudges move from one side of the glass to the other. "It's heroin-heroin, without the scary shit. Plus, it's got the reiki shit in it, so it sorta balances out."

Comforting. Thank you.

Zandra fidgets with the packet. "I liked it."

"Oh, that's so nice, Zandra. I'm glad," Bexley says. Her face beams through the filth.

Zandra shakes her head and says, "No. I really liked it."

Chad grins. "I mean, if you've got cash, my cousin can be a nice guy, too."

You're not getting it.

"Never do that again, OK? No matter how much I might beg you, never put that shit in front of me like you did last night," Zandra says.

"But you said it helped," Bexley says.

"Being helped scares the hell out of me," Zandra says.

"The reiki, though. The Cho Ku Rei. That's what did it. The universal energy comes through easier with the..."

"Heroin?" Zandra says. "Think about this, child. Are you sure it's reiki? Why not draw the Cho Ku Rei over a bowl of oatmeal if it's so powerful?"

Chad snorts. "You're not really saying reiki isn't real, are you?"

Yes.

"No," Zandra says. "But reiki—energy work—doesn't need to flow through a pipe. It's in each of us. We are the universe, child. Our ancestors were stars."

Bexley gushes. "Oh, that's beautiful, Zandra."

They get ready for the day by passing around a box of cereal Chad finds in the kitchen, followed by brushing teeth. It's not clear to Zandra where the toothbrushes and toothpaste come from, or whether they were Chad's or Bexley's in the first place, so she checks the box of oral health with a menthol cigarette instead.

Tastes like smoking minty dog hair, but it'll do.

By the way, what's that vinegar smell in here? Where's it coming from?

Zandra sniffs the sleeve of her purple gown.

Is that coming from me?

Chad and Bexley finish up with eye drops to diffuse the redness in their whites.

"We going diving today?" Chad says. He holds up a pair of diving fins. By some miracle of the flop house gods, a recent visitor either stole or forgot scuba gear. Half of it is in the dishwasher. The other half is scattered about the kitchen. None of it is in good shape.

You wouldn't catch me in a bathtub wearing that shit.

"Not yet. We need to find a buyer before we go diving," Zandra says.

"Why don't we get it first and then sell it? Makes sense to me," Chad says.

Zandra raises an eyebrow. "And bring it here?"

Chad shrugs. "Well, yeah. It's not like we'd leave it on the street, would we?"

"Your cousin walked in here and nearly killed you. It's safer for everyone if it stays in Devil's Hole until we're ready," Zandra says.

They haven't asked about the split yet. How much of what we make will I keep? How much will go to them? I know the answer to the first, and I don't care about the second.

Chad rubs his jaw in a pantomime of contemplation. "I mean, I know some guys who know guys who know guys who probably know someone with enough money to borrow to them to buy the whole haul from us. Kinda fuzzy, though. Hey, Bex, you remember that guy in the red hoodie?"

"Oh, yeah. I remember," Bexley says emphatically.

"What was his name?"

"I don't know. We always called him Red Hoodie Guy."

"Hmmmm."

I don't have six years to figure this out.

Zandra shuffles out of the kitchen and toward the front door.

"Where you going?" Chad says.

"Is downtown far from here?" Zandra says.

"Not too far. I'll show you," Bexley says, following behind.

The three take the sidewalk a few blocks to downtown Stevens Point. Normally, a pedestrian would need to wait at the crosswalks for the traffic to go by. Not this time. The downtown is quiet.

Zandra stops outside a gyro restaurant. It's closed, despite the time being a hair before the lunch hour. A sign on the door gives notice of reduced hours.

Fuck, my ankle hurts.

Deep in her pocket, Zandra twirls the packet between her fingers.

"Uh, if you want lunch, I think the pizza place down the street is open," Chad says.

"I'm waiting for someone."

"For who?"

"They'll show up. Just stay here until I'm done."

They wait an hour, doing their best not to look suspicious. It's not easy, considering who they are. They make small talk about how the streets haven't been swept. It's boring conversation.

"Hey," Chad says and pulls out a pack of poker cards. "Maybe you could finish this?"

Zandra looks down at the pack. "Finish what?"

"From our conversation? God and all that? You were going to do something with the cards, remember?" Chad says.

No idea what you're talking about, Chad. If you met God in a pack of poker cards, He must've sent you back to Earth to keep you from bugging the shit out of everyone trying to enjoy heaven. I'm not one for religion, but even I can respect that.

"We definitely had that talk, though. Definitely. It was super interesting, I think," Chad says.

"Good for you," Zandra says. Then she sees it. "Got to go."

A van pulls up alongside the sidewalk. It slows to a crawl, but it doesn't stop. A sliding door on the side opens. A pair of muscular arms reaches out for Zandra.

"I can let myself in this time, thanks," Zandra says. She hunches over to rub her sore ankle before hopping into the van.

Let's make a deal.