1970

An army-surplus tent has been mounted to the bed of the truck, making it a modern covered wagon.  The old man has a good view from inside.  He can see both the crowd and the speaker.

The Magic Man shouts.  He prances.  He spreads his arms and they encompass the Gathering.  “Consider the vortex, friends, the black hole.  It’s out there.  It’s just over that hill.  It lives in the cities and it eats tall buildings.  You can read it in the papers, man, in the black and in the white.  The vortex is the Makers’ work.  The Makers are hungry.  They’re tired of the skyscrapers.  They’re coming for you.  They’re coming for me!”

A photograph of a young man jitters in the old man’s hands.  He reports.  “That’s Mackey out there, son.  I think his name is John.  They call him ‘The Magic Man’.  He’s a curly mane on a matchstick.  He used to be on TV.  He was the lead guy in that TV version of “Jessup”, the film about the hippy cop.  I seen him a couple of times now.  At San Luis Obispo in ’68, up in Boulder that same year, and twice in Saratoga both in ’69 and now.”

Mackey drops to his knees, draping an American flag over his head as a shawl.  “They say our movement is dying!  I say that it’s them that’s dying!  La morte, mother fuckers!  Adios!”  Nazi salute!

“He considers himself a ladies man and he probably is.  There’s a bunch of gals around him generally.  I’ve seen him with a girl named Sara Blue, used to come around here with her hand-made whistles.  Jewel Something, Missy Something.  Lately, it’s a pretty gal named Phoebe. Phoebe James has sad eyes.  She told me she missed her little girl.”

He’s back on his feet!  “If you’re feeling sick, don’t fear. The Magic Man has Magic Hands.  If you feel the Makers holding you down, pulling you down, just reach out.  The Magic Man has Magic hands.”

The photo could be of the old man’s son.  Or maybe it’s just him as a young man.  “Sounds like he can heal the sick and raise the dead.  This is getting mighty familiar, my dear boy.”

——————————————–

Mackey’s speeches nearly always arouse the libido;  couples begin to drift off into the surrounding woods.

One unfortunate pair  makes the discovery, stumbling upon the corpse of Josey’s mother, her throat slit and looking as pale as a paper doll.

This Ends the Third Cycle of  BURNT

The Story So Far