Strange Adventures Of Rangergirl

Skull Cracker Marzi leaned on the counter and watched, with dread twisting in her belly like a knot of rattlesnakes, as Beej trudged up the stairs. The worst of the morning rush was over and Hendrix was in the back watching his thirteen-inch portable TV, so Marzi would have to wait on Beej herself. He was talking to himself in a dreamily pleasant tone, which was somehow worse than mere ranting, and Marzi heard her own name several times in his otherwise incomprehensible monologue. Beej had always been a slob, but his hygiene and dress sense had deteriorated completely over the past few weeks. His carrot orange hair hung in greasy clumps around his face, and his ever-present black leather jacketwhich must have been stifling in this heatwas smeared with mud and bits of grass. Marzi wondered if he'd lost his apartment or something; if he was sleeping outside. Beej still came into the cafe every day, and Lindsay said he was still attending art classes, but clearly something had come catastrophically loose in his life. Marzi had seen heroin addiction in action, and it looked something like this, but she didn't think drugs were Beej's problem. Something in his eyes, the way they seemed to roll around loose lately, made her think he was having problems inside his head. Beej clumped up to the counter, grinning at her, showing teeth that had gone too long without cleaning. He dropped a handful of coins, a few bottle caps, a beer can pull tab, and several pieces of a shredded photograph onto the counter. "Lemon tea, Beej?" she said lightly. "No. A mocha." He gripped the edge of the counter, his hands visibly shaking. "I found the shrine of the earthquake," he said. "I followed the path that leads to waste and hardpan. The god of the earthquake has accepted my devotions." "Uh-huh," Marzi said, turning to the espresso machine to start his drink. "How have you been sleeping? You don't look so good." He didn't smell good, either; like mud, and ashes, and old carpets. "I don't need to sleep anymore," he said. "My god gives me strength. But Marzi . . ." He frowned, then shook his head. "What?" she asked, wondering why he'd been saying her name on the steps, if she should be worried. He often flirted with her, awkwardly, and she had a fondness for him despite his social deficiencieshe was always polite, and a talented collage artist and photographerbut she questioned if he was becoming obsessed. "Nothing," he said, not meeting her eyes, taking his drink and heading for the Cloud Room. Beej liked that room the best. He said the castles in the mistcertainly the most soothing of the several room-spanning murals in the cafemade him feel peaceful. Marzi was about to drop his coins into the register when she noticed there was an Indian head penny and a buffalo nickel in the mix, in addition to a Sacagawea dollar coin. She pocketed those, making up the difference with cash from her own pockets. She didn't collect coins, but that mix of change had a distinctly Old West feel. She'd never thought much before about the way icons of the West appeared on currency. Maybe there was a story in thatsomething about counterfeiting, or magically transforming natural resources into cold cash. It seemed like more of an Aaron Burr story than an Outlaw one, but that could be goodshe hadn't done much with Burr in the past few issues of her comic. A scream, raw with shock and pain, erupted from the Cloud Room. Marzi came around the counter fast, holdinPratt, Tim is the author of 'Strange Adventures Of Rangergirl ' with ISBN 9780553383386 and ISBN 0553383388.