Editor’s note: The following story is from the book, “The Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker, In Memory of Indian Larry and Doo Wop Music,” by Derrel Whitemeyer.
For Chapter 13 Click Here
“Roll with the mystery. Life’s uncertain, just be comfortable with that…why fight it?” –Indian Larry
“It’s the size of a Volkswagen, it probably ate my M90, it’s guarding your Raider, and I’m not going near that thing without a bazooka.”
“We’re already,” laughed Larry, “more than near to that thing, I doubt it ate your M90 and I doubt we’ll find any bazookas nearby, so stay cool. Spiders are known for their bad eyesight which means it likely hasn’t seen us and will move on. If we can’t find your bike we’ll ride double on my bike.”
Throughout the night Larry and I had lit each pile of furniture on fire, clockwise from left to right. We’d wait for one pile to burn down to near ashes then we’d light the next. We’d completely burned our circle of ten piles by the time the sun rose over the top of the buildings.
“Are you two,” the spider shouted over to us, (so much for spiders having bad eyesight) “going to stay on that bandstand all day? It’s ok; I don’t bite. Well actually I do bite but I won’t. Name’s Bartlett and we need to talk. I was going to say that if you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours but I didn’t want to gross you out any more than you probably are after seeing that I’m a giant spider. Point being, no matter how we define the problem, you’ll never leave this Borderland until I get what I want. We need to cooperate.”
Bartlett’s James Bond ‘shaken but not stirred’ voice had come across making so much sense I found myself thinking why not go talk to him. Larry must’ve found him making even more sense than I did because he left the bandstand and started walking towards the platform.
“Are you,” I yelled after him, “insane?”
“Probably, but I’ve a feeling if we’re ever going to get out of this Borderland it’ll be with Bartlett’s help.”
Larry’s feeling must’ve been contagious because I soon found myself walking along beside him. Except that upon closer inspection what we had thought to have been a round eight foot platform was really an eight foot round cover covering an eight foot hole in the ground. The cover had been moved revealing the edge of the hole’s opening.
Thick web more matted than woven formed a five foot funnel that exited from underneath the cover and ended just behind the spider. The funnel was entwined with pieces of debris. More than a few of the pieces were parts of my M90. Wedged between two of the pieces was a human skull.
“I’m as addicted to solving riddles as you are prisoners of this Borderland,” said Bartlett who sounded like the actor Sean Connery. “Help me solve my riddle and I’ll help you leave. This hole leads down to another Borderland.”
Larry pointed to the skull, “It looks like your last visitor wasn’t very good at riddles.”
“Hey, what can I say, a guy’s got to have dinner. Unfortunately my guest,” and Bartlett gently touched the skull with his back leg, “arrived at dinner time. It wasn’t personal; in fact if I hadn’t been hungry I probably would’ve let him go. To his credit he did quite a good job pleading for his life. He almost had me convinced until…”
“Until,” interrupted Larry, “you realized he’d be just as fresh of a guest if you put him in a to-go container, I mean cocoon, and saved him for later.”
“Why,” I asked and at the same time I pointed to pieces of my Suzuki M90, “did you destroy my bike?”
“It was an accident. When I exited my lair, this hole this morning I bumped into it. I mistook it for a threat and instinctively tore it apart. If it’s of any consolation I’ll replace it with another,” and Bartlett gently touched the skull again with his back leg. “I’ve been using his motorcycle as a counter weight to move the cover. It’s suspended on my web about fifty feet below. It looks like that one.” Bartlett then pointed his front leg towards Larry’s Yamaha Raider.
“So what’s,” I asked, “your riddle?”
“Tell me the secret of the web, you call it a dreamcatcher, you throw at what threatens you. I’m a master weaver and thought I knew all defensive designs, but not this one.”
“We’ll do better than that;” said Larry, “we’ll let you make a copy of it…but there are conditions.”
“Anything,” said Bartlett.
“We have only two conditions. The first is, and I say this as much for your safety as ours, do ‘not’ attempt under any circumstances to harm us after you’ve woven a copy of our dreamcatcher. The second is that after you have woven your copy you lower both of us and the two Yamaha Raiders down the hole and into the other Borderland.”
“That’s it, that’s all you want in return for letting me copy its pattern is for me to lower the two of you and your motorcycles into the other Borderland? Deal, I must admit you drive an easy bargain.”
Bartlett was smiling, well I think he was smiling if giant spiders can smile, as he effortlessly removed the cover, picked up Larry’s Raider, attached it next to the other Raider then lowered them both down the hole. He then began weaving two seats for us to sit in. At the same time he motioned with a free leg for us to come closer.
“We’ll give you our dreamcatcher to copy once you’ve lowered us down to the other Borderland.” said Larry as he walked to the edge of the hole. “As skilled a weaver as you are you’ll have it copied in a couple of minutes then you can drop it back down to us”
“Then have a seat,” said Bartlett at the same time he completed the weaving of the two seats. “I’ll have you and your motorcycles lowered down to the other Borderland before you know it. Once you’re down I’ll lower a strand of web and you can attach your dreamcatcher for me to pull back up and copy. I see no reason why we shouldn’t trust one another.”
As soon as Larry and I climbed into the seats Bartlett began reeling out the strand. With his back legs he lowered the two of us and our two Yamaha Raiders down the hole. The bikes were on the same strand of web and about fifty feet beneath us. That Bartlett was able to hold the combined weight attested to his tremendous strength. A hundred feet below the bikes there was light shining out an open door highlighting the bottom.
Where the light was coming from was a mystery.
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When Larry and I had been lowered to where the two Raiders had just reached the bottom and to where we were still about fifty feet in the air we were jerked to a stop.
“Why,” I yelled upwards, “did you stop?”
“I’m out of the body fluid I need to make more web. I’ve just enough left to make the strand I’m lowering to you to attach your dreamcatcher. Once I’ve gotten it I’ll then eat the funnel behind me and digest it into the fluid I’ll need to make a copy of the dreamcatcher and the strand to lower you the rest of the way down the hole.”
“Larry shouted, “Like you said, we have to be able to trust one another. Lower the strand and I’ll attach the dreamcatcher. I’ll also cut you free,” Larry reached down with his knife and cut the Raiders free, “from our two bikes as they’re already on the bottom.”
“Thank you for relieving me of their weight and here’s the strand,” Bartlett shouted down and at the same time he dropped a strand of web for us to attach the dreamcatcher. Without hesitation Larry attached it to the strand and signaled with a tug for Bartlett to haul it up.
Once Bartlett had it he immediately began to weave. Above us, traced across a blue sky, we could see where Bartlett was quickly weaving a copy of our dreamcatcher large enough to cover the opening of the hole. Within minutes he’d completed the task.
I twisted in my seat to face Larry, “How’s he able to weave a copy of our dreamcatcher if he doesn’t have anymore fluid? He didn’t even eat the funnel that would make fluid.”
Larry didn’t answer me but shouted upwards, “Throw us our dreamcatcher and lower us the rest of the way down and we’ll overlook your little no harm, no foul lie.”
Bartlett instead of responding began pulling us upwards.
“Bartlett, don’t do this,” shouted Larry. “We trusted you; don’t break our deal. Lower us down now and you’ll still be safe. If you don’t I won’t be able to protect you from what’s about to happen.
“Bartlett, the dreamcatcher you’ve woven by copying ours will protect you from things that attempt to harm you; however it won’t protect you from what it will do if you attempt to harm others.”
“Nice try at frightening me but I’m the master of the webs I weave, not their slave,” Bartlett shouted as he continued to reel us upwards and at the same time he dropped our dreamcatcher down the hole but out of our reach. “The webs I’d weave to ride upon shadows to spy on or digest whoever became ensnared in them were controlled by me. They gave me information as well as nourishment. You two were always on the menu. I just needed to find a way to separate you from the dreamcatcher that would have defeated me and I have. I made a copy of it, I control it; its power is mine.”
Bartlett’s web, which was in the shape of our dreamcatcher and not to be confused with Charlotte’s web, was getting closer. We were fish being reeled in for dinner. The dreamcatcher’s design now that we were almost under the web was unmistakable.
“It’s not too late,” said Larry, Larry didn’t have to shout anymore, “to save yourself.”
“Save myself, save yourselves; bon appétit my friends.”
Larry twisted in his seat to face me, “This will go only one way and I mean literally only one way…”
“What do mean by only one way?”
“One way means Bartlett’s about to be cut in half and we’re about to go on a one way trip to the bottom. How fast we descend depends on how fast the spinneret muscles in Bartlett’s abdomen relax.”
Bartlett was cut in half almost before Larry had finished saying, “relax.” Bartlett’s web, an eight foot in diameter replica of our dreamcatcher, had contracted around him cutting him into two pieces. Spider insides rained down. The abdomen, the half holding us, hung on one side of the dreamcatcher. Bartlett’s head and thorax, thankfully facing away from us, hung on the dreamcatcher’s other side.
“As the spinneret muscles in his abdomen relax our weight will pull the strand of web holding us out of his body. Let’s hope it’ll be pulled out at a slow enough speed so we won’t splatter when we hit bottom.”
As Larry predicted the strand of web holding us began to be pulled from Bartlett’s abdomen. Our speed was slow for the first fifty feet; past fifty feet we were suddenly, apologies to Tom Petty, free falling…and then just as suddenly we were slowing down. Something was slowing our descent and by the time we landed on the bottom we were going no faster than you would’ve been stepping off an escalator.
“What saved us from falling…what…?”
“Bartlett,” answered Larry at the same time he looked upward, “Bartlett saved us. Why’d you do it Bartlett?”
“That’s impossible,” I said. “Bartlett’s over a hundred and fifty feet above us. He was cut in half.”
And then I felt the drops of blood or whatever passes for spider blood on my forehead and I followed Larry’s gaze upwards. Bartlett or what was left of him was hanging ten feet over our heads. That he was able to reach out after being cut in half and grab the thread holding us and keep us from falling seemed impossible. That he was then able to lower the upper half of his body down to where we were was a miracle.
“I’m sorry,” said Bartlett, “what can I say, I’m sorry.”
“I’m surprised you can say anything after being cut in half,” said Larry. “You saved our lives; what can we do for you in return?”
“I’m dying. When you leave take me with you; take me into the garden beyond the door. It’s my home.”
Because of his size moving even half of Bartlett would be impossible let alone getting him through the doorway.
“It’s impossible,” I said, “for us to move you. “Plus you’re too big to fit through the doorway even if we could.”
“I’ll become smaller, my normal size if you can just move me into the sunlight coming through the doorway.”
“What if,” said Larry, “we can move the sunlight to you?”
Larry’s idea of moving sunlight could only be done if we aligned the two Raiders so their rearview mirrors reflected sunlight from outside back through the hole and onto Bartlett.
“Park that Raider,” said Larry pointing at Bartlett’s recent dinner guest’s Raider, “just outside then move its rearview mirrors so they reflect sunlight back in here…hurry!”
Our newly acquired Raider not only had its key in its ignition but it started on the first try. In gear and slowly inching through the tunnel leading out of the hole had me seconds later outside and in a beautiful sunlit garden. Parking the Raider next to the opening, I twisted its mirrors so they reflected sunlight back through the tunnel.
Larry had in the meantime moved his Raider so its rearview mirrors could catch the sunlight being reflected through the tunnel and onto Bartlett. The effect was immediate. Bartlett, as near to death as he was, turned to bathe in the light and immediately began to shrink. In seconds he was half the size of my hand and a light purple in color. And then Larry did the strangest thing; he walked to where our dreamcatcher lay in a crumpled pile, picked it up, brought it back and covered Bartlett.
“It’ll finish killing him!”
“Or heal him; it almost killed him when he tried to harm us. Let’s see if it can heal him now that he’s helped us?”
Larry had gently covered Bartlett by making a small protective pocket in the dreamcatcher’s folds.
“A minute later a very grateful Bartlett with a new abdomen crawled out from under the folds.
“Where’s” asked Larry, “home?”
Bartlett climbed up Larry’s arm and onto his shoulder, “Home’s the wooden fence across the garden from the outside of this tunnel. I lived in the flowers growing on top of the fence. You can’t miss them; they’re the same color as me.”
Ten minutes after exiting the tunnel we’d ridden our Raiders to the wooden fence. Covering the fence was wisteria the same color as Bartlett. Bartlett was home.
Once we parked Bartlett scampered down Larry’s arm then onto the Raider’s rearview mirror. From there he jumped onto the fence and then into the wisteria. As his body was the same color as the blossoms he quickly blended out of sight.
“Bartlett,” said Larry into the wall of wisteria, “are you going to be ok?”
“Yes. And thank you for saving me. I realize now the dreamcatcher was made to protect me from harm not allow me to harm others. The belief I could control a Borderland by force was foolish. I became seduced then so bloated by that belief I became too large to return to my garden. You saved more than my life.”
We had to go. Larry’s eyesight was keen enough to see Bartlett; mine was not, so I waved goodbye to the wisteria.
One last look in the direction of where Bartlett would soon be spinning webs to catch flies not men and then I followed Larry on down the garden path. After a few minutes of slowly winding our way through groves of fruit trees and vegetable patches we pulled our Raiders to the side and stopped.
“Do you recognize,” said Larry with a knowing smile on his face, “where we are?”
“It looks familiar. I feel I’ve been here before…but the place I’m thinking of was destroyed.”
“It was,” said Larry, “and the only way it could’ve been created again is by the ones that created it in the first place, and that’s only if they were rescued by Hilts.”
Now I was smiling, “It’s Ma n’ Pa’s garden…we’re back in Ma n’ Pa’s garden! Hilts must’ve flown to the top of the cloud, downloaded the essence of Elvis and brought Ma n’ Pa back so they could recreate their Borderland.”
Now that I knew where we were I knew where to look for Ma n’ Pa’s tree house. The path leading to it wound its way through the parts of the garden Larry and I had worked helping Pa with his chores. And the closer we rode towards their house the more anxious I became. Would Ma n’ Pa be there, would Hilts be there, and what had become of Charon?
[photo 4948]
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Click here
“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend,
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie…
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and…sans End!”
–Omar Khayyam
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