Men of All Seasons Box Set

by R. W. Clinger

  * * * *

  Not far from Josh’s cabin sat Zeth’s A-frame. The coyotes were interested in his abode. The keen one that had scratched Josh’s cabin’s door growled at Zeth as he exited his A-frame to get rid of a bag of garbage from his kitchen. Obviously the leader of its pack, it showed off, arched its back, slowly moved up to Zeth’s side, sniffed his left barefoot, and decided that a war should occur between the two concerning the ownership of the property by the lake.

  Zeth immediately pissed himself when the lead coyote attacked him that night. Having no time to feel any terror whatsoever, Zeth was pushed to the ground when the coyote leaped against his chest, connecting its large paws to Zeth’s pecs. Zeth cracked his skull off a rock and almost fell unconscious. His vision blurred, and he had a deep ache in his right shoulder. Fortunately, he didn’t see or feel the coyote overtop him, chewing on his right shoulder and splay of neck, only inches away from his jugular. He did feel an excruciating amount of pain at the rear of his skull, smelled amber-coated hair against his nostrils, soot in the air, lake water, and listened to growling.

  Then he blacked out.

  * * * *

  June 13

  Zeth woke with pain in his right shoulder and neck. He blinked a number of times, surfacing from a dream world of unconsciousness. A strange bedroom surrounded him with a sharp, pivoted ceiling. One window overlooking deep woods allowed sunshine to brush inside the small room. He smelled pancakes and honey, which he thought strange. He tried to determine where he was, but couldn’t, and blinked a few more times. The rear of his mouth felt dry. He lay on what he had guessed was a bed, motionless in the morning—yes, it had to be morning because of the sun’s position on the horizon, its trespassing and golden rays spilling through the nearby woods—newness, weak for some strange reason. He felt groggy, exhausted, and unsure if he were alive or dead. Eventually, being awake for no more than just a few minutes, Zeth closed his eyes and drifted away, falling into a black dream world.

  He wouldn’t wake up for the next twelve hours.

  * * * *

  June 14

  “You finally awake, little bear?”

  Zeth looked through his eyelashes, semi-asleep. His entire body felt numb and weak. His neck and right shoulder felt as if they were on fire. To his left sat Josh Hideaway: T-shirt clinging to his chest, holding what looked like a glass of icy water, and mussed hair that resembled a windblown look.

  “What…?” Zeth grunted, unable to finish his sentence.

  “Don’t speak. You need all the energy you can muster for repair. You’re weak. Just relax. And you’re safe. I’ve got this.”

  “Where am I?” Zeth asked, ignoring the filmmaker. He stared at Josh, puzzled, unsure of his surroundings.

  “At my cabin. In my bedroom. All’s good. I know how to take care of you, guy. No need to worry.”

  “What…what happened?” Zeth blinked a few times, felt the bandage on his neck and right shoulder, and the undercurrent of pain.

  “You were attacked by a coyote. He got you pretty good. No holds barred.”

  “I can’t remember anything.”

  “Not that I expect you to.” Josh leaned forward, brought the glass of iced water up to Zeth’s lips, and coached, “Take a small sip. No reason to overdo it.”

  Zeth felt as if he were in Eden, drinking the water from God, as he parted his lips ever so slightly and took a sip. He swallowed the few drops, grunted, and took a second sip.

  After the few drops helped coat his insides, he asked Josh, “What happened? Everything is a blur.”

  Josh walked Zeth through the last thirty-six hours. “You were putting out your garbage and were confronted by a coyote. The coyote obviously didn’t like what you had to say or do, charged you, and tried to kill you. You passed out and…”

  “You found me and saved my life.”

  Josh gave him some more water. “It was all by coincidence. I knew you were in trouble. Something told me you needed my help. I decided to investigate. I walked from my cabin to your A-frame and…you were in bad shape. Blood everywhere. The coyote was at your neck, and I scared him away. He would have murdered you had I not come around.”

  “Jesus,” Zeth groaned. “I owe you everything.”

  “Never. You owe me nothing. Right now, you just have to get better. Your neck and shoulder are pretty mangled.”

  “You didn’t take me to the hospital?”

  Josh shook his head. “No reason to. I have some doctoring skills and put them to good use. I have a little bit of medical practice and education. Dog bites are very similar to coyote attacks. I had everything under control.”

  “Good…to know,” Zeth replied, closed his eyes, and felt exhausted.

  Zeth’s mind drifted as Josh talked about wanting to be a doctor before getting into movie-making. Josh attended medical school for two years, then changed his mind and ended up working for VBM Films as a director’s assistant, accidentally falling into the position because of a friend of a friend. Zeth fell into a new dreamworld, lost in sleep.

  * * * *

  A movie unfolded in his dreams…

  There were muscular warlocks of all sizes in long white capes, everywhere. Seventeen in all with narrow hips and thick shoulders. Pointed, white hats reached into the dark night. They were barefoot. Some carried candelabras, leading the coven through the woods, next to Lake Penichowaba. The high priest sported gold shoulders.

  The priest murmured, “Nomprhee bish. Tres yenfell. Um shen.”

  His dedicated followers murmured back, “Shem nomprhee bish. Shem tres yenfell. Shem un shen.”

  Zeth felt drugged by the warlocks, smelling the candles’ sage-scented flames in the darkness. He became high, numb from the aromatic flavor that combined with ginger, horsehair, and something called flywing. He followed them through the semi-illuminated night and listened to them chant, practicing their craft. The walk was slow and chilly, although there wasn’t any wind whatsoever.

  The high priest chanted, “Donimere execrated. Donimere divine.”

  The following coven replied in unison, “Shem donimere execrated. Shem donimere divine.”

  Zeth saw sixty warlocks in front of him, not seventeen. They weaved through the woods, left and right, slowly gliding. Their white robes swished about their legs and bare feet. Their murmuring continued, the priest leading in their mysterious chant. The walk became long and tedious, hour after hour. And because he was high, drugged on whatever the candles produced, an aromatic flavor that tasted like paprika at the back of his mouth, he almost lost his balance, falling to the woodsy earth.

  The high priest chanted, “Freside monicruese diendes.”

  The coven replied in unison, “Shem freside monicruese diendes.”

  Where are they taking me? Why am I following them? What’s going on? I’m so confused, high, bewildered…whatever, something. They’ve drugged me. I know they have. Why? When? Where? What? How?

  They walked for another hour into the dark woods, chanting the entire way. In the distance, some one hundred-plus feet in front of him, Zeth saw an hourglass-shaped green light and knew that it symbolized an unattainable dream and his future. The light was almost lime in color, shimmering in the distance like dancing fire or a phoenix rising from ashes.

  The high priest chanted, “Bestdue miendo. Carshenthall hillsee. Ingacia deshan.”

  The coven replied in unison, “Shem bestdue miendo. Shem carshenthall hillsee. Shem ingacia deshan.”

  Behind the hourglass-shaped green light, which sat atop a long and thin bamboo pole the color of midnight, stood a granite mausoleum. The small building was accentuated with stone gargoyles, fanged demons, and upside down crosses. Flames and hellish banshees were etched into its two front doors.

  The coven created a half circle in front of the green fire and mausoleum. They extended arms at their sides, lowered their heads in prayer, and connected hands, humming.

  The high priest entered the semi-circle and stood next to
the green light. He lifted his arms to the night’s windless heavens and chanted, “Bestole. Comgrolin. Meadin.”

  The coven replied in unison, “Shem bestole. Shem comgrolin. Shem meadin.”

  Zeth watched the green fire flash off, on, off, and on. Green, laser-like beams of light burst out of the hourglass flame and illuminated the warlocks’ chests. Balls of fire were created under the warlocks’ chins and floated above their stomachs.

  The high priest chanted, “Montide. Esperas. Unfliza.”

  The coven lifted their arms together. “Shem montide. Shem esperas. Shem unfliza.”

  The green balls of light rose into the night and hung above the warlocks inside the deep woods. Sixty or more. Eighty or more warlocks and balls. Multiplying by the seconds. Too many warlocks and balls of light to count.

  The high priest uttered his last words, “Shem lucianda. Shem mintanda.”

  And then the entire coven and balls vanished from the night, leaving him alone in the woods next to the lightless bamboo pole and deathly mausoleum.

  Zeth started to scream inside the dream and inside Josh’s bedroom.

  * * * *

  Josh bolted inside his spare bedroom to check on a screaming Zeth. Out of breath, having run from outside at the woodpile, into the cabin, his chest rose and fell. His wood-gathering had come to an abrupt end as Zeth started to scream.

  Zeth sat up in bed, sweating, panting, and wide-eyed, obviously having suffered from a nightmare. His bare chest swelled, deflated, and swelled again.

  Josh moved up to the bed and sat down. He took Zeth in his arms, being careful of the man’s bandages on his right shoulder and neck area. He started to gently rock Zeth back and forth.

  “It’s fine. I’m here. It’s okay. No one and nothing is going to hurt you. You had a bad dream. It was just a dream. We all have those.”

  “Warlocks,” Zeth muttered. “There were warlocks everywhere. I was part of their coven.”

  “You’re fine now. The warlocks are gone. Everything is okay now.”

  Zeth shook his head. “They vanished. All of them. They were having some kind of ritual. We were in a cemetery of sorts. Somewhere in the woods. There was a mausoleum, green fire, and…”

  “Calm down,” Josh soothed him, drawing in the man’s strong perspiration scent. He continued to rock Zeth, gently squeezing him, pressing Zeth against his own body. “It’s over. Whatever it was…wherever you were…it’s over now.” After finally calming Zeth down, Josh gave the man a glass of iced water, which Zeth downed in four quick gulps.

  “I was never so frightened when dreaming. I couldn’t believe how real it was.”

  Josh wanted to chuckle, but didn’t. “The warlocks are everywhere in these parts, even in our dreams. They have a lot of control over us. They own all of this land and its buildings. They want to own our souls.”

  “It was terrifying, Josh. I feel as if I’ve lost part of my mind.”

  “You’re safe with me. I’ll make sure their coven won’t hurt you.”

  Zeth looked into Josh’s eyes and whispered, “You promise?”

  “I promise. Always.” Josh winked at the man and wanted to kiss him, but knew that it wasn’t the time.

  * * * *

  Zeth found enough strength to have lunch with Josh.

  Josh opened most of the windows in his cabin, and the two sat inside the kitchen area at a small table.

  Zeth sipped very little minestrone soup and nibbled at his turkey and Swiss sandwich.

  Josh sat across from the man, and they shared polite conversation about the twin warlocks, missing babies, and strange banshee sounds in the night; both heard them within the last week, ever since Josh’s arrival from Pittsburgh.

  Josh said, “Not many people dream of the green fire. You’re special.”

  Zeth looked over his soup. “How am I special?”

  “Only the gifted dream of the green fire.”

  Zeth shook his head. “There’s nothing special about me. What does the green fire mean?”

  And then Josh mentally messed with Zeth and said, “That you’re crazy hot and good in bed.”

  Both of them laughed, and Josh convinced Zeth to eat more.

  “At least two more bites. And three sips of your soup. You’re not going to die on my shift. I won’t have that bullshit.”

  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “I would hope not.”

  * * * *

  Zeth took another long nap, but didn’t dream of the Penichowaba warlocks, the green fire, coven, or woodsy walk. His sleeping became dreamless and without any faults or wreckage. Never had he slept better.

  Although Zeth didn’t know that Josh had checked on him every fifteen minutes, he felt that someone or something was around him, safe at all times, and making him feel at ease, in a comforting world.

  * * * *

  Truth told, Josh was worried about his guest and couldn’t help himself but to keep an eye on the ranger. He felt so responsible for Zeth’s health that he called Sandra McBain and told her, “Zeth needs the next few days off. He was attacked by a coyote. I’m mending his wounds.”

  Sandra said, “You’re seducing him, aren’t you? Winter will be coming soon, and you want to hibernate with a sexy and nicely built ranger from the woods, right?”

  “This is all about his health, Sandra. Don’t make fun of the situation here.”

  Sandra ignored him and asked, “Your last name is Hideaway, right? So that’s what the two of you are doing, huh? You’re both hiding away, aren’t you?”

  He huffed, irritated with her. He knew that she had seen numerous coyote attacks in the last year and other animal emergencies. Josh knew that one woman from Rhode Island, visiting the park with her family, almost died. She was Life-Flighted out of the park by a helicopter and rushed to Pittsburgh, barely surviving. Josh was surprised the way Sandra was acting: unprofessional, disrespectful, and nonchalantly. He had guessed that never before had she taken a coyote attack as a joke, which pissed him off a little. Sandra prided herself on being professional at all times, particularly during emergencies. He couldn’t believe she was acting this way now.

  He told her, “Zeth Mandell could have died. The coyote went right for his neck. I scared the dog away from him. Otherwise, he would have been dragged off and eaten.”

  A long string of silence followed. She coughed once and eventually said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize his condition. He can take as long as he needs. I’ll cover for him. I got his back.”

  That just happened to be the Sandra that Zeth probably liked having as a coworker and appreciated.

  “Thank you, Sandra. I appreciate that, and I’m sure Zeth does, too.”

  “If I can help in any way, let me know.”

  Josh thanked her again, ended the call, and returned to Zeth’s side in the downstairs bedroom of the A-frame.

  * * * *

  Zeth sat up in bed and looked around. “Hey,” he said when Josh walked into the room. “I need some exercise. What do you say?” He saw his cellphone to his left, sitting on a night stand.

  Josh grinned from ear to ear. “Glad to know you want to survive. I like your drive.”

  “I’m thinking a short walk down to the lake and back will do the trick.”

  “And then we’ll change your bandage.”

  “Ouch. That sounds pretty painful.”

  “I’ll be gentle with you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

  Zeth winked at him, smiled. “You’re a sweetheart, Josh. Tell me why you’re not married.”

  Josh collected Zeth’s freshly-washed and folded clothes from a chair and carried them over to him. “I’m just waiting for the right guy to come along. It’s all about patience. He’s out there, I’m sure. I just haven’t found him yet.”

  Josh’s cellphone rang in his pocket.

  Zeth said, “You should get that.”

  Josh pulled his cellphone out. “It’s Andy Apple from the city. He’s my best frie
nd. We like to keep in touch with each other. I’ve known him forever and love him as a friend.”

  Zeth grinned, happy to be Josh’s patient. “You two need some privacy. Leave me alone for a few minutes. Then we can go for our short walk.”

  * * * *

  As Josh talked to his friend Andy Apple, Zeth dreamed of taking a quick shower, changed into a pair of fresh shorts and a T-shirt. Careful of his shoulder and neck, he grabbed his sunglasses from the kitchen table, slipped feet into a pair of Nike walking shoes and…

  Edward and William Penichowaba were in his kitchen, standing side by side in front of the Whirlpool dishwasher. Both were dressed in white robes, holding upside down chickens by their scrawny legs. One of them whispered caregiver love inside Zeth’s head. The other one chanted everlasting love. Zeth stared at them for a few seconds, felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, and then he blinked a number of times. Just as he was about to say something to the brothers, they vanished, leaving him alone in the kitchen, confused. Zeth didn’t want to mention seeing the brothers in the kitchen when he returned to the spare bedroom. Not that he had a choice in the matter since his face was an ashen hue and his pupils were twice their normal size.

  Josh was finished speaking with his city friend, Andy Apple, and immediately said to Zeth, “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Try two brothers.”

  Josh chuckled. “There are spooky things everywhere in these parts.”

  * * * *

  The walk through the woods and to Lake Penichowaba felt demanding of Zeth’s energy. Every time he lifted his right leg, his right shoulder and the side of his neck felt bothersome, both areas rippling with fresh pain. His pace at Josh’s side became snail-like, but needed. Aware of his unlimited pain, careful with his footing, and not trying to overdo the walk, he kept a strong head and mind to accomplish his task.

  Wind brushed against the pre-summertime leaves as well as Zeth’s cheeks and eyelids. The lake felt as it if were a thousand miles away from Josh’s cabin, but Zeth managed, pacing his steps. He stopped occasionally, enjoyed the splintering sunshine between the trees and the familiar sounds of robins, sparrows, and the occasional owl that chose not to take an afternoon snooze.