The Right-Wing Riot is proud to be serializing "The Fire This Time," Roy M. Griffis' prequel to his novel "The Big Bang." Click here to read Part One. The story continues in Part Two, below.
First he needed a plan, hell, even a clue, and it turned out that Mrs. Dominguez had provided that. Looking for spare change to buy breakfast, he was digging through the wad of papers in a dirty briefcase on the Bug’s floor boards when he came across the document that his former manager had given him on his way out and down. “Do You Think You have a Drinking Problem?” it asked him.
He’d spent nearly a year destroying himself (“suicide, one sip at a time” a guy in one of Those Rooms told him), and it took longer to rebuild a life. That rebuilding got him a mercy deal on the trailer surrounded by friendly goats and noxious weeds. He needed a job, though, and through the kind offices of another friend of a mutual friend named Bill W., he got a night job working security out at one of the big Indian Casinos on the east side of Tucson. It was nearly 60 miles to drive, but he didn’t mind. It was cooler at night, anyway, hardly any traffic on the I-10. He’d do his rounds (as only one of a few token palefaces at the Apache-owned and run business), then he’d read a certain big book he always brought along.
It wasn’t an impressive life, as these things went, but beat the hell out of living in a car that was almost as old as he was. And he might have stayed with the goats and the weeds and the little trailer for a long time except the Big Bang happened, and his world was once more grabbed by the ankles, hoisted upside down, and given really thorough shaking.