RAIMONDO THE KING
25 June 2009
by Caitlin Myer
“...post-apocalyptic world, right? And there are killer androids – no, wait.” Kyle pushed his glasses up on
his nose and scrambled up the slope, waiting at the top for Ray to catch up. “...killer mutant cyborgs, and
we’re like the only humans left, and we have to hide from the cyborgs, right?”
Ray was out of breath, looking back down into the valley. His mom had told him to stay out of the
foothills, Remember that jogger that got ate by the cougar, she said.
“It’s only a little ways from here,” said Kyle, “So, okay, we’ve got these laser guns, and that’s the only
thing that can stop the mutant cyborgs, you know, pkyoo pkyoo, vweep vweep,” Kyle shot his imaginary
laser gun at the sage, hitched up his pants, and disappeared around the bend.
Ray raised his own laser gun finger, closed one eye, aimed at a black rock in the path. Pkyoo. He wasn’t
fast, like Kyle. The cyborgs would’ve already gotten him by now. Dead meat.
“Over here, Ray!” Kyle’s voice came through the wind.
Ray wasn’t really Ray. He was Raimondo. Way back in first grade, the teacher read off his name, first
day of class, standing on one foot, the other hooked around her ankle, “Raimondo – it’s Ray, right?” she
looked up at him from the roll, and he wanted to say No, it’s Raimondo, just like it says, but she looked
like she really wanted it to be Ray, and in that second he couldn’t say no to her, she was too little to be a
teacher, she looked like she might break, so he nodded, and that was it, he was Ray ever after, even his
sisters, even his mom and dad called him that now.
Ray came around the fold in the hillside just in time to see Kyle crouching down, glasses flashing sunlight
back at Ray, before he dropped out of sight.
Ray was puffing when he got to the spot where Kyle had been, and even then he didn’t see the hole right
away. He squatted down, straining his eyes into the dark.
“C’mon,” Kyle’s voice came from deep inside, impatient, echoing. Ray sighed, then hoisted himself down,
feet first, dirt sliding all around him, skidding on his butt down a slope, he could feel darkness opening
out around him, the ground leveling out, his feet under him again, he stood up in a big space, the light
from the opening not reaching the far wall.
“The mutant cyborgs won’t ever find us in here,” said Kyle.
The words on Kyle’s black t-shirt glowed in the dark of the cave, Iron Maiden in spectral green.
“Yeah,” said Ray.
“It goes way back,” Kyle was already off, already walking into the dark, Ray trying to keep him in sight,
the light from the opening behind them now, just picking out Kyle’s hair, grainy like an old black and white
picture, “I haven’t even seen the whole thing.”
Maybe it was better he was just Ray for everyone else, slow Ray, quiet Ray, doing anything Kyle says,
Raimondo his secret name, the name of a king, his mom said that their people were kings, a long long
time ago, before the Spaniards came, looking for El Dorado. Better to be Ray, even if he was sometimes
Fay Ray at school, but Raimondo was all his, the retards at school couldn’t tell the difference between a
Peruvian and a Mexican, didn’t even matter his family had been in Los Angeles longer than most of theirs.
Alone in the dark, he was Raimondo.
Ray’s steps slowed down, not sure if he could still see Kyle’s hair or just remembered it, but he could
hear his friend’s hand dragging along the wall, knocking dirt and little rocks loose, feeling his way deeper
and deeper into the heart of the hill.
Then Ray heard a cacophony of rocks and dirt and Kyle’s body hitting ground and then nothing for a
second.
“Ray?” Kyle’s voice echoed, bouncing off walls Ray couldn’t see, he couldn’t see anything at all, not the
hand he waved in front of his eyes, not his new digital watch, nothing.
Kyle had fallen down a deeper hole, they would never get out of here. Ray didn’t remember which way
the opening was, if he could only find it, if he could get out and find someone, find the sheriff, somebody
with a flashlight, and they could come and get Kyle, and Ray could go home and warm a tortilla on the
bare burner on the stove, heat glowing through red where the coil was worn, his mom slapping at his
hand, Use a pan, act like a civilized person, Dad scratching under his shirt, the bathroom heavy with
hairspray and perfume, his sisters jostling in front of the mirror.
“Ray!” Kyle was farther away, the echo deeper and bigger. He didn’t sound scared. Something else.
Curious. Awed.
Ray felt his way toward the voice, his feet testing each patch of ground before he put his weight down.
The ground pitched sharply down and Ray sat down carefully, his hands braced on either side, inching
himself along slowly, and maybe it was a memory of light, or he imagined it or wished it, but he was
seeing a difference now, when he blinked it was warmer and definite now, it couldn’t be imagination. It
wasn’t daylight, it was something else.
Ray’s foot dropped into a hole, nothing below, the light was coming through there, he thought for half a
second of falling, of starving in a deep hole in the ground, never seeing his room with the stars and
planets sheets again, but it was only a second, Ray knew what was down there, he knew it wasn’t just a
hole, it was what the Spaniards had been looking for, what his people knew was always there, but it was
theirs, not for anyone else, it was El Dorado, the land of gold, so much gold it gave its own light, soft and
warm, and his people, silent and slow-moving with the weight of their pride, he would find them at last and
take his rightful place, this was who he’d always been, Raimondo the King, and he let himself fall.
A writer living in San Francisco, Caitlin Myer blogs at Chemical Billy.
25 June 2009
by Caitlin Myer
“...post-apocalyptic world, right? And there are killer androids – no, wait.” Kyle pushed his glasses up on
his nose and scrambled up the slope, waiting at the top for Ray to catch up. “...killer mutant cyborgs, and
we’re like the only humans left, and we have to hide from the cyborgs, right?”
Ray was out of breath, looking back down into the valley. His mom had told him to stay out of the
foothills, Remember that jogger that got ate by the cougar, she said.
“It’s only a little ways from here,” said Kyle, “So, okay, we’ve got these laser guns, and that’s the only
thing that can stop the mutant cyborgs, you know, pkyoo pkyoo, vweep vweep,” Kyle shot his imaginary
laser gun at the sage, hitched up his pants, and disappeared around the bend.
Ray raised his own laser gun finger, closed one eye, aimed at a black rock in the path. Pkyoo. He wasn’t
fast, like Kyle. The cyborgs would’ve already gotten him by now. Dead meat.
“Over here, Ray!” Kyle’s voice came through the wind.
Ray wasn’t really Ray. He was Raimondo. Way back in first grade, the teacher read off his name, first
day of class, standing on one foot, the other hooked around her ankle, “Raimondo – it’s Ray, right?” she
looked up at him from the roll, and he wanted to say No, it’s Raimondo, just like it says, but she looked
like she really wanted it to be Ray, and in that second he couldn’t say no to her, she was too little to be a
teacher, she looked like she might break, so he nodded, and that was it, he was Ray ever after, even his
sisters, even his mom and dad called him that now.
Ray came around the fold in the hillside just in time to see Kyle crouching down, glasses flashing sunlight
back at Ray, before he dropped out of sight.
Ray was puffing when he got to the spot where Kyle had been, and even then he didn’t see the hole right
away. He squatted down, straining his eyes into the dark.
“C’mon,” Kyle’s voice came from deep inside, impatient, echoing. Ray sighed, then hoisted himself down,
feet first, dirt sliding all around him, skidding on his butt down a slope, he could feel darkness opening
out around him, the ground leveling out, his feet under him again, he stood up in a big space, the light
from the opening not reaching the far wall.
“The mutant cyborgs won’t ever find us in here,” said Kyle.
The words on Kyle’s black t-shirt glowed in the dark of the cave, Iron Maiden in spectral green.
“Yeah,” said Ray.
“It goes way back,” Kyle was already off, already walking into the dark, Ray trying to keep him in sight,
the light from the opening behind them now, just picking out Kyle’s hair, grainy like an old black and white
picture, “I haven’t even seen the whole thing.”
Maybe it was better he was just Ray for everyone else, slow Ray, quiet Ray, doing anything Kyle says,
Raimondo his secret name, the name of a king, his mom said that their people were kings, a long long
time ago, before the Spaniards came, looking for El Dorado. Better to be Ray, even if he was sometimes
Fay Ray at school, but Raimondo was all his, the retards at school couldn’t tell the difference between a
Peruvian and a Mexican, didn’t even matter his family had been in Los Angeles longer than most of theirs.
Alone in the dark, he was Raimondo.
Ray’s steps slowed down, not sure if he could still see Kyle’s hair or just remembered it, but he could
hear his friend’s hand dragging along the wall, knocking dirt and little rocks loose, feeling his way deeper
and deeper into the heart of the hill.
Then Ray heard a cacophony of rocks and dirt and Kyle’s body hitting ground and then nothing for a
second.
“Ray?” Kyle’s voice echoed, bouncing off walls Ray couldn’t see, he couldn’t see anything at all, not the
hand he waved in front of his eyes, not his new digital watch, nothing.
Kyle had fallen down a deeper hole, they would never get out of here. Ray didn’t remember which way
the opening was, if he could only find it, if he could get out and find someone, find the sheriff, somebody
with a flashlight, and they could come and get Kyle, and Ray could go home and warm a tortilla on the
bare burner on the stove, heat glowing through red where the coil was worn, his mom slapping at his
hand, Use a pan, act like a civilized person, Dad scratching under his shirt, the bathroom heavy with
hairspray and perfume, his sisters jostling in front of the mirror.
“Ray!” Kyle was farther away, the echo deeper and bigger. He didn’t sound scared. Something else.
Curious. Awed.
Ray felt his way toward the voice, his feet testing each patch of ground before he put his weight down.
The ground pitched sharply down and Ray sat down carefully, his hands braced on either side, inching
himself along slowly, and maybe it was a memory of light, or he imagined it or wished it, but he was
seeing a difference now, when he blinked it was warmer and definite now, it couldn’t be imagination. It
wasn’t daylight, it was something else.
Ray’s foot dropped into a hole, nothing below, the light was coming through there, he thought for half a
second of falling, of starving in a deep hole in the ground, never seeing his room with the stars and
planets sheets again, but it was only a second, Ray knew what was down there, he knew it wasn’t just a
hole, it was what the Spaniards had been looking for, what his people knew was always there, but it was
theirs, not for anyone else, it was El Dorado, the land of gold, so much gold it gave its own light, soft and
warm, and his people, silent and slow-moving with the weight of their pride, he would find them at last and
take his rightful place, this was who he’d always been, Raimondo the King, and he let himself fall.
A writer living in San Francisco, Caitlin Myer blogs at Chemical Billy.
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