Pure Iron Metal Head

Chapter 5 Gig was off to computer camp for three days; computers, canoeing, hiking and seminars- it was somewhere up in the Napa Valley. Not my thing, but I was really going to miss him; just as we were getting the metal band off the ground. I had recently ordered a magazine subscription called, Ground Metal. My first magazine showed up today, and it was really cool. All kinds of techno-gadgets, secret “pull-offs” and “metal riffs.” I decided I would immerse myself in “Metal Studies,” while Gig was gone. Yep, this would be a great way to spend the time. I was sitting against the headboard on my bed, and looking around my room. I did have a few sparse metal posters. Man! Were there some great ones to order out of this new magazine? It was about 11:45 p.m. when I decided to shut it down for the night. As I turned out the light, I thought I heard something outside my window. I put it out of my mind and went to sleep. For some reason, I kept thinking about Dahlia’s remark about Crazy Charlie. Why is she so lame? I was drifting off into a nice sleep when away off somewhere, I heard some tapping and somebody whispering, “Snake… Ooh Snake.” I kind of woke up, and realized someone was outside my window. I got up and looked out, but didn’t really see anything. I cranked open the window and said, “Who’s out there? Speak up or get out; I’m calling the police!” Just then Dahlia stepped out from behind the huge cedar tree. “Gabe, I couldn’t sleep. Why don’t you come out for a while, and we can talk about plans for an opening concert.” I was obviously very surprised. For some reason, Dahlia looked different than I had seen her before. She had a new shirt on; had pulled her hair back, and was wearing make-up. I am known to have very few weird quirks, but one of them is I like to swim in our Dough Boy pool just before going to bed (and often I would fall asleep in my swim suit). Dahlia just kept staring, and getting that stupid smile of hers. “I’ll be right out, just give me a second.” I threw on my clothes in the dark and snuck out the back door. It’s amazing how quiet and still everything is late at night. When I went out to the backyard, Dahlia was sitting on a picnic bench and putting on lip gloss. She spoke up, “Hi Snake, how about if we go for a little walk and discuss the future of metal?” “Dahlia, I don’t think that it’s such a good idea; without Gig and everything.” Dahlia tilted her head and spoke up again. “I talked to Gig tonight, right after dinner. I ran some ideas passed him, and he was the one who suggested it.” I felt like she was lying, but I thought it probably made sense for me to at least hear her out. We walked through the gate into the alley, and back up to the road. I noticed she was wearing some jewelry that I had never really noticed before, and she also had on some perfume. I asked her what it was, and she said that it was called, “White Shoulders.” I really don’t care for the smell of perfume, but I thought hers smelled really good. “So where are we going to go to discuss the future of Santa Del Mar’s premier metal band?” I asked. “Well, if you don’t mind, I thought we could walk down to the old trestle. It’s kind of pretty down there in the moonlight and all, and there are no real houses around or anybody to interfere with our thoughts.” “Dahlia, how about if we just sit in your backyard? Nobody’s going to care that much, and I don’t think anyone is going to interfere with anything.” Just as I said this, Dahlia reached down and laced her fingers around mine. “It’s summer… and it’s a great night for a walk, Gabe-darling.” This was definitely getting weirder by the minute. The alley shortly turned onto Miller road where I lived. It was a very short block that only had about seven houses on it. At the end of it, was an old railroad levee that was about 12 feet high. If you walked up to the top of it and turned left, you would eventually run into an old railroad trestle about a half mile down. The old trestle was pretty much an abandoned railroad structure, which very few people traveled. For one thing, it was in disrepair; was covered with weeds and small critters. For another, it butted up against one of the oldest pioneer cemeteries in the west. There was a gated access road that ran along Slocum’s Brook on the west side of it, but the gate was never locked; even though there was a “no trespassing” sign posted nearby. Some people claimed that the trestle was haunted. I had personally caught many reptiles there as a boy (in the daytime only; I had never been there at night), and had never noticed anything unusual. A lot of people have too much time on their hands, or worries I guess. Even though the old trestle was a little bit hideous, there was something kind of cool about it. I guess my curiosity was up, because I really wanted to see what it looked like in the moonlight. I must admit I really enjoyed holding Dahlia’s hand, and especially smelling her perfume. I did keep thinking about Gig; that was creating some confusion and... I asked Dahlia, “So, have you ever been here before?” Dahlia just looked at me; smiled and said, “Listen.” An old barn owl was hooting off somewhere. Dahlia spoke up, “I want to be one of the most famous people in the world when I get older. I want to be really rich too, but I figure if I get really famous first, riches will follow.” I didn’t really know what to say to this. My mom says that an awful lot of rich and famous types have terrible lives. “I think getting rich and famous is alright, as long as you’re happy.” I said. “Oh, I’ll be happy alright. I’ve got it all worked out. I am going to be a famous manager and publicist for you and Caulder. I’ll probably go on “The Phil Donahue Show;” then write a book… maybe star in my own TV show. I‘ll show you something when we get to the trestle.” I noticed for the first time that Dahlia was wearing a backpack. On the back of it was an embroidered butterfly, and the name, “Dahlia F. Jones.” She must have brought something she wanted to show me. As I looked back up at her, I felt the need to clarify my point. “I don’t know if I really have my whole life planned out like that. I think I just want to play music and see what happens. If somehow we get to be a big success, I’ll just go with it. You know, I kind of think that, because of my parent’s divorce. I’m afraid to put my hopes too much into something before it happens. I think it will somehow jinx it or...” Just as I said this, we came upon the first part of the old trestle. I must say it looked really cool in the moonlight. It was in a very old part of town, and all of the houses and trees looked very old. Well, I should clarify; all of the houses were far off in the distance. Most of them were the old two story western types on big parcels. Some of them still had a windmill type pump house, and a couple of them for some reason still didn’t even have electricity. One of the most run-down and litter-strewn properties in the far distance was quite famous with area kids. It belonged to a bunch of bully, teenage boys called the Riley’s. The Riley family had moved to the Santa Del Mar area from Mississippi back during the dust bowl. If any kid (and even most grownups) saw them coming, the rule was immediately turn tail and get out of there. They were absolutely vicious. Some kids were once playing catch by the Riley property with a baseball. The Riley’s thought they were “messin” with their Guernsey. The Riley boys ran the kids off with typical “Riley vocabulary,” and were shooting at them with their pellet guns. One of the boys was hit in the face. The kids were told if they came back, they would be getting a full load of buckshot. Well, surely this late at night, there wouldn’t be anybody to bother us or anyone else. I sat down on the east side of the trestle, and stared at the little brook that ran undernea