Ronin

by Tony Bertauski

  Nicies mugged for the camera. “We’re going to hurt them.”

  A few minutes later, Ryder scored a touchdown. He only wished there was a close-up of Kraig’s face.

  “You were intense.” Cut to John and Jane.

  “I don’t like to lose,” Jane said. “Neither do you.”

  “Because I don’t lose.”

  The two debated the following plays then went silent when the flea-flicker happened. Ryder was too fast.

  “He’s a ringer,” John said. “We weren’t ready.”

  “You think that’s why BG came back?” Jane asked.

  “Nothing he does is an accident.”

  The stream focused on Soup crying tears of hysterical joy. The shoving started in the background. The nicies surrounded Arf, and Ryder was running toward them. Kraig pushed Arf with two hands just as Ryder leaped.

  “We shouldn’t have cancelled the game,” Jane said.

  “Little man gave us no choice. If he hadn’t attacked Kraig, we would’ve won. How many times were they going to run the same play?”

  Ryder rubbed his jaw as Kraig’s elbow slammed into him.

  “That’s what you get,” John added.

  He paused the stream. It didn’t look as bad as it felt, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. He bounced the stream back several seconds and played it again. All the attention was on Kraig leaning into Arf. The other nicies were egging him on. Except John.

  He had been watching Ryder approach.

  His lips were moving as he got closer. Ryder played that snippet over ten times before he figured out what he was saying.

  Here he comes.

  He wasn’t warning Kraig. He was updating him. Kraig turned at the last second and drove his elbow into the side of Ryder’s face.

  It was a setup.

  “We’re sore losers,” Jane said.

  “We’re competitive. That’s why we play the game. There are consequences. Hurt one of us and we hurt you back. And if you jump on Kraig, there’s a lesson in that too.”

  Ryder went over Kraig’s back, catching the elbow and bouncing in a puff of snow. And then the four-wheelers were crossing the yard. An earlier cut of the naughties’ snowball fight was followed by nicies walking through the woods.

  “When’s the last time we hiked like that?” Jane said.

  The last time we hiked?

  Scenic shots panned across the valley and down through the trees, the breathtaking visuals that made the stream so popular. There was no roar of an animal or the obsessive pursuit. It looked like a wonderful day in the trees. No mention of anything that had happened after Ryder was body slammed.

  Like the game was cancelled for a hike.

  Ryder replayed the incident three more times. He stopped just as the four-wheelers roared out of the barn. The final frame captured a blurry figure standing in the breezeway. His cowboy hat was turned toward the mountains.

  This wasn’t about football.

  They had been ready to roll. The four-wheelers had been lined up and waiting. BG had smiled and nodded when the animal roared.

  He shut the laptop and leaned back. It was hard to remember much of his life. No one remembered anything when they were little, but Ryder couldn’t remember most things.

  He was trying to forget his life.

  A torn edge of paper curled from beneath the laptop. He hadn’t seen that before sitting down. He laced his fingers behind his head and looked up.

  Bradley Cooper was watching.

  Ryder sat forward and opened the laptop again, sweeping the note into his palm. He waited a few minutes before holding it against his chest. The drone didn’t move. He didn’t bother taking off his shirt, simply glanced down. The note was written on the back of the same red wrapping paper with golden bells and green holly leaves. He cupped it like a poker player.

  WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?

  He had to read it again, pulling it closer to make sure he was seeing it correctly. There was some mistake. The first note was slightly cryptic, mostly threatening. This one was stupid. Ryder wasn’t hiding anything. If anyone was hiding something, it was everyone at Kringletown.

  “Ready?”

  Ryder actually yipped. He spun around and crumpled the note in his palm. Jane was in the doorway.

  “Impressive day yesterday,” she said. “I didn’t know you were that fast.”

  He tried to say something. Sweat was on his forehead.

  “You ready to talk?” she said.

  “About what?”

  Her smile grew wider. “Introspection? You were supposed to meet us ten minutes ago. Come on.”

  She waited for him to put on a sweatshirt. He pretended to check his pockets, shoving the note to the bottom. Later, he would tear it into tiny pieces and throw them in three different trash cans.

  ***

  “Merry Christmas!” Jane waved at naughties looking out from their rooms. “Remember the door contest, everyone! Supplies are in the craft room. The winner with the most festive door gets to draw twice from the tree.”

  The naughties watched him follow her off the wing like the prisoner of a county fair beauty queen. The music changed as they turned the corner. Old-fashioned Christmas music filled the halls. Garland hung from the ceiling along with ornaments and endless strands of lights. Jane sang along as her sharp shoes tapped the hard floor.

  “So you’ve never played football?” She hooked her arm around his elbow. “Amazing what talents we hide.”

  “Where we going?”

  “A chat, that’s all. I don’t know what the others told you, but it’s not going to hurt, I promise. You look nervous.”

  She squeezed his arm and pulled him closer. Their drones floated ahead, green eyes aimed back. This charming shot would make tomorrow’s stream, and he didn’t want to see it. Everything they did went through the filter of how it was going to look. All this space and he felt more trapped than any house he’d ever lived in.

  What are you hiding?

  They made several turns down halls Ryder had yet to see, doors that were closed and probably locked. He wasn’t sure he could find his way back. They ended up somewhere near the front of Kringletown. He recognized the foyer. Jane opened the office door, where he’d arrived on the first day.

  It looked the same—the pictures of BG, the glassy-eyed looks from stuffed heads—with the addition of blinking lights and a fully dressed Christmas tree.

  “BG is camping.” Jane pointed at the empty desk. “We’ll see him at fireside tomorrow.”

  “You mean hunting?”

  “Not like that.” She glanced at the drones, a discussion that wouldn’t make the stream because no one heard the howl. The viewers thought they went on a hike. “We like to know what’s out there. Don’t you?”

  Jane went to a door on the right side of the office. Despite the festive decorations, this one was plain and empty. She stepped aside and gestured. There was a large fireplace with a roaring fire. Shelves lined the walls with old books. In the center, there were three fat chairs.

  John in one of them.

  Jane took his hand. The drones didn’t follow. She stood behind one of the empty chairs. Ryder didn’t move. The lighting was as warm as the room, contrasting with Arctic-themed paintings on the walls.

  “BG is a little obsessed with the Pole,” John said. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

  Ryder was looking at the books, not the paintings. There were so many of them. He wondered if any of them had been opened since they were put there.

  “Please, sit.” She patted the chair. “I promise, we’re just going to talk. Maybe not even that.”

  “What are we doing?” Ryder asked.

  “This is an opportunity to know yourself,” John said. “We all have physical needs, which BG provides. But we also have emotional and spiritual needs that can only be fulfilled by our own selves. The world is changed one person at a time. Introspection starts with you.”

  “Then why do I need you?�
��

  “We’re guides, that’s all,” Jane said. “Please, sit.”

  Ryder eventually sank into the soft cushion. The arms hugged him from both sides. The fire popped an ember against the steel curtain.

  “Water?” Jane got up before he answered and put a bottle on the table. Then she opened a small container that looked like it might hold an engagement ring. “These are readers. They’ll record your brain waves. We find it useful to see how you experience emotions.”

  They were white discs the size of dimes. Jane stuck one on each of her temples.

  “See?” she said.

  “No.”

  “Trust us, Ryder. We’re here to help.”

  “Like during the game?”

  “Sometimes help means to challenge,” John said. “Growth requires pushing you into places you don’t want to go. This isn’t a vacation, Ryder.”

  “You mean like slamming my head on the ground.”

  “You charged Kraig. You can’t put your hand in fire and not expect to get burned.”

  They were hiding something, not Ryder. And they want me to trust them?

  “It’s all right.” Jane put the readers away. “We don’t have to use these.”

  Ryder watched her slowly sink into the chair, realizing his chair had slowly formed around him. He wiggled about and the cushion adjusted to a new position. It was the most comfortable thing he’d ever been on.

  Jane and John rested their hands on their laps in a funny way. The backs of their left hands lay flat and their right hands on top. The ends of their thumbs were touching. They looked at Ryder, not smiling. Not blinking. Very relaxed, very patient.

  “What are you doing?” Ryder said.

  “Just being here, that’s all. Take a deep breath, draw deeply through your nose.” Jane demonstrated an inhale and let it leak out. “Try it, Ryder. You can keep your eyes open if you want.”

  They continued deep breathing. Ryder looked around for drones or any sign of a recording device. He did not want this on the stream. Jane pursed her lips on the exhale.

  “Don’t be anywhere but here,” she said. “Sink into who you are.”

  They took two more deep breaths, and Ryder went along with them. If this was all there was, it was no big deal. He could breathe.

  “If a memory presents itself, let it be there,” she said. “The self has amazing wisdom. You don’t need us.”

  In.

  “Let your own self move you. You don’t have to speak. Just be here.”

  Out.

  “Be with it.”

  Ryder felt himself sinking into the chair while they continued. The fire popped a little louder. It felt like he was sitting closer to the heat. Their eyes were closed. He was feeling a little sleepy. If he closed his eyes, he might catch a nap.

  How would they know I was sleeping?

  “I’m seven, I think,” John said.

  The words jolted Ryder. The chair adjusted to the tension rippling through him.

  “I’m wearing... footy pajamas,” he continued. “I think I’m too old for them, but I like them. They’re red and fuzzy and my big toes stick through holes. My throat is sore.”

  He swallowed.

  “My sheets... they’re too thin for winter. I can hear a pot stirring and go into the kitchen. My nana is making spaghetti. My papa is at a small table. He’s eating tamales. I sit in the chair across from him. It’s hard against my back. He shares a tamale with me. The sauce is...” He licked his lips. “It’s tangy. I eat with him and count pennies and help him wrap them.”

  John’s voice was shrinking. It was small and frail. A twitch pulled the corner of his mouth.

  “Mom’s at the door. Papa talks to her, and I stand behind Nana. She holds a big spoon, sauce dripping on the floor. They start yelling, and I’m holding onto her muumuu...”

  He clawed at the armchair fabric. Shoulders tensing. Legs shaking. His breathing was shallow. Minutes passed before he took a deep breath, letting it flow through pursed lips.

  “Thank you, John,” Jane said quietly. “Do you need anything?”

  He shook his head. Their eyes were closed. They didn’t turn to Ryder or ask him to share or come up with something. Ryder was buzzing with comfort. John’s relaxation invaded the room. They took several more breaths.

  Ryder was dripping into the cushions.

  The chair held him. The fire rocked him. The breathing soothed him. He remembered how good it felt to be buried in blankets on a winter night. There was the time he stayed at Aunt Fran’s house. She wasn’t his aunt, but she didn’t want to be called foster mom.

  Aunt Fran kept the house cold at night. A glass of water would have ice crystals near the window. Ryder loved it, though. He would climb under the couch cushions and breathe through a little opening. Sometimes Aunt Fran didn’t know he was there and sit on him. She’d let out a laugh and he would too.

  Everyone laughed when Aunt Fran laughed.

  On Wednesday nights, she would go bowling. Jesse was queen of the house on Wednesday nights. She would put Ryder to bed and talk on the phone. She was too old to be living at home, Aunt Fran would say.

  One night, Ryder snuck out of his bedroom while she was in the shower and snuggled into the couch cushions. She came out wearing a robe and almost sat on him. He was going to scare her, when someone knocked on the door.

  Aunt Fran didn’t like David.

  He wore T-shirts and ripped jeans and wouldn’t amount to anything. Ryder could smell smoke and saw them on the back porch. He was going to run for his bedroom when they came back in. He could hear them breathing heavily.

  He curled up and hugged himself.

  He was almost asleep when Jesse started crying, and David was yelling. Something broke. He got louder and another thing broke. Then Jesse fell.

  Ryder jumped out.

  There was weird stuff on the table that smelled funny and pieces of a glass on the floor. David was sweaty and his eyes were big. The white parts went all the way around them. His mustache twitched. Ryder was in trouble.

  So he ran.

  “Get back here,” David yelled.

  Ryder ran into the backyard and crawled under the bushes. There were footsteps behind him and bad words. The streetlight wasn’t working. It was dark behind the bushes. Ryder ran around the barn and squatted behind a stack of hay bales. The moonlight cast his shadow on the ground.

  The woods weren’t far away. The trees reached for him with crooked arms and dark faces. There was a fort in there, but he’d never gone to it at night. It was better if he stayed there until Aunt Fran was home.

  “Ryder,” David sang, “come out, buddy.”

  A phone light swept from side to side and stopped before coming around the corner. David was looking through the window. If he went inside the barn, Ryder would run for the fort.

  Then a tree suddenly broke.

  It sounded like a branch exploding or a tree falling. The light swung toward the forest.

  “Ryder?”

  There was nowhere to go. David would see him if he ran now. He felt frozen, trapped. Helplessly, he watched the light come around the corner. At the same time, a warm breeze blew down on him. It was humid and grassy.

  A shadow blotted out the moonlight.

  David came around the corner. The phone tumbled out of his hand, light flickering up his body, and the look on his face—

  “No!” Ryder jerked out of the chair’s embrace.

  Panting, sweat trickled down his cheek. His eyes were wide open. He was seeing books and paintings and walls, not the barn or the trees or David.

  “It’s all right.” Jane leaned forward. “You’re safe, Ryder.”

  He couldn’t get enough air. The room was too small, too constricted. He wanted to run and hide.

  “Whatever happened,” she said softly, “let it go. It doesn’t own you. The memory has presented itself. It’s in the light.” She brushed his hair. “Let it go.”

  Ryder didn’t know if it wa
s a memory. It seemed so real, but how could he forget something like that? He remembered Aunt Fran and Jesse and even David. And the reason why he had to leave the house. It had something to do with that night. They’d found David with all those broken bones.

  What happened?

  Jane gave him a bottle of water. He drank half of it. She sat down and watched him settle. They didn’t ask him to breathe deep or close his eyes. They just sat in the room until all was normal.

  “Time’s almost up,” she said. “You’ve recovered a part of yourself. You know more about your true nature and your purpose.”

  Purpose?

  They held out their hands. Ryder allowed them to pull him up. His legs were weak. He wanted a hug but wouldn’t admit it.

  “Do you want me to walk you back?” Jane asked.

  He shook his head. It would be better if no one was with him. Besides, he could take his time and get to a bathroom. He didn’t want to cry in front of anyone.

  Especially the drones.

  They said goodbye and thanked him. He left without a word and got lost. Bradley Cooper showed him the way back. The perspiration on his brow had cooled. He wiped his forehead to put his stocking cap on and felt something strange. His temples were sticky and tender. He felt a spot on each one.

  They were about the size of a dime.

  8

  The sun hangs like an ornament.

  The rays sparkle on the thinning ice shelf where frisky reindeer prance. The youngsters duck their heads, budding antlers clattering as they fight for a broken strap. Bells ring as Dancer and Cupid tug until Dunder crashes between them.

  They give chase.

  Dunder’s belly swells up. His stomach gurgles like a coffee machine, gathering helium in a specialized bladder. He leaps over the herd, clearing them by ten feet or more.

  Gallivanter watches from an open lead.

  He sits on an icy ledge, swishing his feet like paddles in the frigid ocean, chunks of ice swirling in the eddies. He strokes long braids dangling from his chin. Thick brows shade his eyes as the littlest of the herd picks himself up and shakes off the snow.