With that thought a shot rang out and creased the side of Billy's head. He staggered and turned around to see the gun drop and hear the last gasping death rattle of Bulgas Bobar, blood oozing from bullet holes in his chest. Billy regretted the thought about the psychiatrist as he felt the blood drip on his ear.
With the expert medical assistance of the pharmacist at the Eagle Pharmacy, a man named Pat from Ireland, Billy's slight head wound was quickly healed and he caught a ride to Long Beach in the truck of a chicken farmer, never for a moment forgetting the image of Lillie in his heart. Someday he would find her again, he swore to himself.
3
Billy Barker arrived in Long Beach covered in feathers and fowl excrement but without money. The driver of the chicken truck was a native of Long Beach and Billy asked him to drop him off in the part of town where charity would be second nature to the residents. The driver obliged and let Billy out in front of the First National Bank. Billy waited just outside the revolving door with his hand out.
After three hours and dozens of unresponsive bank patrons walking past him, an elderly gentleman in a white t-shirt and shorts, black socks and Reboks finally acknowledged Billy's presence. "Son, what's the problem?"
Billy gave him a look of sweetness. "Sir, I am begging. I am destitute, hungry, racked with pain, homeless and depressed."
The elderly man leaned over and pulled his black socks up to his calves and said, "I will take you to my home, feed you, give you two dollars for spending money, and teach you a trade."
Billy hugged the man with two pats. "Oh, thank you. Everything is truly for the best. If I had not been initiated into the Order of the Hoods, been in a war where three hundred young men and women were killed, shot because I wished psychiatric treatment for the all-powerful one, and been transported here in a chicken truck, I would not have met you. Please tell me, what is your name?"
"Rock Stonewall, and yours?"
"I am Billy Barker, formerly of the castle-estate of Maximillian Carmine Doobie, but I have been banished from the palatial grounds because I took personal liberties with a Miss Lillie Roberts, a most fetching young woman who I know will someday be my bride, if God be willing."
"Are you a religious man?" Rock Stonewall asked.
"Oh yes, and I have committed my life to prejudice, intolerance, bias, bigotry and violence, at least to the degree of which I am capable. At this moment, however, I feel that I have back-slidden." Billy felt a terrible pang of guilt for hiding behind the soda fountain. He should have died with the others, he thought. He looked up. "Sir, are you a man of faith?"
Elderly Stonewall said, "I am a freethinker. I form my opinions about everything independent of tradition or authority."
"And what is your opinion of God, life, and this world?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet. Now, come with me and I will feed you, give you money and teach you a trade." Stonewall took Billy's arm and led him to the white Rolls Royce parked behind the bank. Billy didn't notice the personalized license plates that read Me da Mayor.
Billy was impressed with Rock Stonewall's home--a three story fortress-looking mansion with turrets on top, the small lot surrounded by a barbed wire fence and a sign that read Posted, No Hunting Allowed. When Stonewall stopped the Rolls Royce in front of the gate, Billy instinctively knew it was his place to quickly jump from the car and open it. He did so, and Stonewall drove the car through the small opening. Billy latched the gate and ran behind the car until it stopped in front of the acropolis. They entered the house by the front door and took the elevator to the kitchen on the third level where Stonewall immediately began to fix grilled cheese and olive loaf sandwiches. He opened a beer for himself and poured Billy a glass of milk.
Billy wiped the white smear from his lips and asked, "Sir, what do you do as a way of earning a living?"
I am a politician serving as mayor of this fine city," Stonewall replied, "and politics is the trade I will teach you, the most honorable of all professions, one that commonly reflects the morality of the common people. And you seem to be a most promising young man for such a career."
"I would be honored to be an apprentice politician," Billy said, "and I would indeed strive to achieve political leadership after I am politically prepared."
"And so you shall be," Stonewall said as he served up the hot sandwiches. As Billy devoured the food, Stonewall continued. "I shall send you to Long Beach State at night for your education, and during the days you will be my aide. You will also attend political meetings, be present at the city council sessions, assist the precinct captain of our party, and engulf yourself in the grass roots process of electioneering."
"When do I begin?"
"Immediately upon finishing your sandwich. There is a box of frozen turkeys in the freezer in the garage. You will place them in the old Volkswagen you'll find there and deliver them personally to the names listed in the box. I am coming up for reelection and the recipients of the turkeys are the most influential people in town. You'll deliver the hams piled on the rear patio to the working people tomorrow." Stonewall reached into his pocket and pulled out two crisp one dollar bills. "Here, son, take this money as my investment in you to be all you can be. Now get on with your errands, the keys are in the car. Later you can get cleaned up and I'll buy you some new clothes at one of the discount stores."
There were tears of joy in Billy's eyes as he took the money, by-passed the elevator and ran down the two flights of stairs. He had not been as happy in his life, at least not since the banishment from paradise.
The final turkey was delivered to the president of the First National Bank, and as Billy was leaving the building he ran into and knocked to the sidewalk a man who was standing at the revolving door with his hand out. Billy helped the man to his feet and gasped, "No, it can't be! You!"
The man staggered back, eyes and mouth open wide in shock. "Billy Barker?"
"Reverend Roberts?"
"Billy?"
"Reverend?
The man and boy embraced each other with gentle pats on the back. "Oh Reverend sir, tell me, how is your most lovely daughter Lillie?"
The Reverend hung his unshaven face, his severely cracked plaster of Paris hair giving the appearance of a relief map of the Los Angels freeway system. He closed his eyes, turned around and sobbed. Billy followed him around and lifted his head by the chin. Finally he spoke. "Oh Billy boy, I have the saddest of all possible news."
Billy felt his right knee give way. "Is she ill? Has she been harmed by my Uncle M.C.? Please tell me."
The Reverend opened one eye and said, "She is dead."
Billy felt the other knee give way and he slumped to the sidewalk. "Dead? Lillie is dead? I know it must be for the best for life and death are in the hands of the Almighty, so it must have been a slow and painful death."
"No, sweet Billy, that is not what happened. A band of mercenaries—they called themselves the Abominables--invaded the Doobie castle-estate the day you were banished. They raped, plundered, killed, destroyed and wreaked havoc on everyone and everything. No one was left alive. I was able to escape only by hiding in the stables under three feet of hay, then quickly left town on the next available greyhound."
"You rode a dog?"
