Immortality's Touchstone

by Mark Tufo

  I dove into the bed before she could even begin to roll over; women are hard to fool.

  “If I’m right, this should be about when one of the kids gets up,” I told her. They didn’t; and then, umm, they didn’t again, which was fairly unheard of on both fronts. I’ll leave it at that. We sat in bed for a good long while afterwards and just talked. We spoke mostly about small things, nothing earthshaking or ground quaking, the types of things any ordinary couple talks about: chores, the personalities of their kids, friends, events coming up. It was fucking bliss.

  More than a lifetime ago I had begged the gods to release me from my life of boredom; what I had called a rut—the daily grind of living without anything noteworthy happening. A life of waking, eating breakfast, going to work, coming home, eating, going to bed, kid doctor appointments, kid sporting events, weekend warrior activities, the occasional beer with a friend. Normal, everyday life stuff; I had it, and I’d begged to be released from it. I had it again, and I was not ever going to let go.

  How many times in our life are we told, you don’t miss something until it’s gone? A dozen? Fifty? A hundred? We’re just not wired that way. We kind of think, since I have it now, I’ll have it always. Of course, that’s illusion, but we also can’t constantly be thinking about losing what we have, even though eventually we all do. Talk about being stuck in a deep hole with no way out. To dwell on the depth of that hole would make us too afraid to do anything; it would be a vicious hamster wheel we found ourselves on. I think, in the end, if from now on my days consisted of nothing more than raising the kids and shoveling horse manure I’d be perfectly fine. I’d had absolutely enough with saving this world, and you know what was kind of funny? The gods agreed. But not in the way you’d think.

  I was worried at first, and I think so was Azile, that I would begin to develop a wanderlust. I believe she was more amazed than I was at how easily I adapted to the everyday. Not having to stick my neck out constantly was pretty nice. I took the horses and Oggie for walks; we hunted. I even dug out an area where I was going to plant the following spring. The only part that sucked about that was it had to be nearly a mile from the house so that we would not inadvertently give our location away. Although, if someone happened to stumble upon my small patch, they could conceivably lay in wait and follow me home at any point, although they’d definitely be getting the short end of that stick.

  Truly, the only troubling thing that happened those first five months was how inseparable Oggie and the damn cat had become. The babies were cherub-like, which makes all the sense in the world, considering how much the little porkers ate. I was amazed Azile had the energy to move at all with the number of feeding sessions she was forced to endure. After a particularly brutal winter which kept us indoors for the majority of days, I started to get uber-fidgety as spring began to emerge. I was very much looking forward to heading back to Denarth and seeing Mathieu and Lana. This time we were taking the entire crew, even the cat. No matter how perfect life is, there always has to be a thorn in the rose bush.

  The day we decided to head out was fairly blustery for early spring. The kids were bundled up as I put them in the small wagon I had built specially for them. Only broke my thumbnail twice and put a nail through the webbing in my palm once. I consider that a victory. I turned back to the house; a cold breeze blew past me and I got a moment of foreshadowing where I was certain I’d never be back. I was about to chalk it up to coincidence, when I looked over to Azile, she was eyeing me concernedly. To her credit, she said nothing. What can one say anyway? I can’t tell you how many times I have had a funny feeling and absolutely nothing horrible has happened. Of course, when that one-in-a-hundred time something does, we turn around and say “I knew it! I knew something bad was going to happen!” See, but the problem is, well, it’s that you can’t say you thought something bad was going to happen before it did because folks would basically get sick of your doomsday predicting. Especially since your success rate would be woefully low.

  Sure, Azile picked up on something, but it could have just been my nerves. Yeah, I’d been all over the country a number of times but I hated leaving home. I’d always been a home-body. When Tracy and I were married and I had to travel for work I would have debilitating panic attacks before I left the house each time. And now that I had a home again, it stood to reason I wouldn’t want to leave it. The outside world is where all the shit gets stirred. We were safe at home; I hadn’t so much as seen the traces of a passing human, zombie, werewolf, or Lycan, and yeah, fortunately no ravens, either. I debated if what we were doing, how we lived, was an illusion, some sort of magic trick fabricated by Azile. How could we possibly have this existence while the rest of the world was well...like the way it was? Then I’d come around and say, “Well why the fuck not?” We’d worked our asses off for our little corner to be alright, hadn’t we? We deserved it. Of course I’d come back full circle wondering when something wholly unexpected would fall from the sky and collapse the roof on our house of dreams.

  Got to admit it sucks sometimes being human, with that big old stupid brain we have. There I am having the time of my life, while simultaneously keeping a look out for the brick wall I knew I was heading for at a blistering pace. There is no other animal ever in the history of the planet that has this problem. When Oggie is playing fetch with me, he is in that moment, enjoying every second of it. In his world, there is nothing but fetch. He’s not contemplating when it’s going to be over or if he might stumble in a hole and displace his hip. He’s not thinking about chipping a tooth on a knot or having a mountain lion chase him. Hell, he’s not even thinking about the cat who keeps stealing his food. It’s unfortunate that we can’t learn this lesson from our so called “lesser evolved” friends.

  Two days we’d been on the road, the sun was shining, the kids were gurgling, burping, eating, and smiling like they always do. The cat was ignoring me. The horses hadn’t tried to toss me, Azile and I had found a little alone time under the stars, shit, I think I saw a couple of Disney princesses singing in the woods. My point being that the trip couldn’t have been anymore magically wonderful if it tried. And still I could not shake the feeling of impending doom.

  I tried repeatedly to convince myself it was because we were going to a wedding. This usually signified the end of manhood, and since it was for my friend, it stood to rights that I would feel bad for him. Mathieu and Lana had decided to postpone their nuptials, allowing all of us to heal somewhat from our war wounds, both internal and external. They’d had to push the date up a few weeks, though, when Lana realized that she was beginning to show. I’d got a kick out of that message. I’d been in the process of changing diapers, the kids had apparently not agreed with their first tasting of something that hadn’t come directly from their mother. What ended up in their diapers looked like something a nuclear waste facility might pump through their sewage system. Oggie had smacked his head against the doorframe in his haste to get out of the room quick enough to escape the toxic fumes.

  I’d tried to do the whole procedure with my breath held; it did not work to my benefit when midway through I realized I wasn’t going to be able to complete the task and had to take in three huge breaths. The air was heavy with shit molecules. It was so thick I could just about see them and I could definitely taste it. Azile was catching a good laugh as she watched me gag. I did notice she wouldn’t come into the room though, and she had her fist up under her nose. Probably had menthol on her fingers so she wouldn’t smell anything.

  “Next time you think about oatmeal, could you please make sure I’m out?”

  She backed up when I headed out with the dirty diapers; paint peeled from the walls as I passed. I was worried that if a government engineer stopped by right now he would condemn the home. I did not care that diapers were no longer disposable, these things were beyond salvaging. I dug a deep, dark hole and dropped them in. I felt bad for whatever creature encountered them. This was probably how the movie Tremors started. Normal
garden variety worms came in contact with bio-hazard human waste and turned into people eating monsters.

  “We’re probably going to have to move,” I told her when I got back. “I think I just screwed up the ground water.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yeah? I noticed how far back you were staying. Looked like you had a restraining order you were trying to adhere to.”

  “There hasn’t been a restraining order yet that I’ve paid any heed to; you should probably keep that in mind.”

  Thankfully the remembrance of that event faded as I looked upon the walls of Denarth. Banners and flags hung everywhere; throngs of people were heading inside for what was gearing up to be one hell of a party. Mathieu had said in his carrier pigeon delivered letter that he’d been working extra hard to supply enough beer. I’d written back telling him to make sure that he hid one just for us. He said he’d hid two. I knew we were friends for a reason.

  “Wow,” was all I could manage as I looked. Mathieu had been on the wall trying to pick us out of the crowd. When he saw us he waved and came down. He had Gabriel with him. After Lunos had been killed, and the werewolves rounded up and destroyed, Lana and Mathieu, along with a contingent from Denarth and Talboton, had gone back to assist Robert’s Land in their rebuilding efforts. And obviously, to reunite Gabriel with his adoptive parents. They were gone, all of them. Not a trace could be found. They’d found the camp on the island, then nothing. Lana had her men search the entire lake to see if signs could be found of their departure to somewhere else. Nothing; not so much as a broken branch. It was like they had been picked up by a spaceship. The lost colony of Roanoke had nothing on what happened to Robert’s Land, but months had passed before anyone checked on that fateful place in Virginia. This hadn’t been more than a few weeks later. Something, some sort of trace should have been found. There were theories and suspicions, including the Lycan coming to claim an easy target. But there were no signs of a struggle, no blood, nothing. They also hadn’t left in any particular hurry, either. Cooking fires had been carefully put out; that was certainly not a sign of a populace running for their lives.

  If they’d just up and moved, they had not gone back to Robert’s Land to grab what they could salvage from the town. Until the weather began to turn, Lana had kept long range scouts out in an attempt to track them down. They’d been fruitless in their quests. I was simultaneously thrilled and worried when Lana and Mathieu had decided to adopt Gabriel. It seemed to me that if anyone had the power to move a great many people into another realm it might be him, though I said nothing. No one really looks kindly on blaming a child for the fate of an entire town.

  Gabriel was all smiles as Mathieu swept him up in his arms and extended him up so he could ride the rest of the way in with Azile. I did my best to minimize contact with the kid; it wasn’t that I didn’t like him, but our first encounter had sent me spiraling away to parts unknown and I wasn’t in a rush to revisit. Later that day, Lana and Azile sat together with the two babies, discussing parenthood and the wedding. Mathieu had excused himself to check on the preparations for tomorrow. I found myself alone with Gabriel.

  “I had nothing to do with it,” he said, rather astutely.

  At first, I did not know what his words were pertaining to.

  “I’m sorry?” We had been tasked with repairing a picnic table; he was a pretty good helper, getting me tools and nails.

  “The people of Robert’s Land. I don’t know what happened to them.”

  I stopped what I was doing and looked at him.

  “I love Mathieu and Lana. They’re the nicest people I have ever met...I know that you have seen what I can do.”

  “I have.”

  “I’m learning how to control it. Touch my hand.”

  “I’d rather get a root canal.” Yet still I reached out. More than a part of me figured I was going to be flung across the room as if I’d completed a heavy duty electrical circuit. Nothing happened. Well, nothing except contact with some sort of germy goo he had coating his hands. “Oh come on,” I told him, looking at the snotty remnants dripping from my hand.

  “Lana says I have allergies.”

  I took this moment to notice the thick green goop hanging from his nose.

  “This funny to you?”

  “Mathieu says you hate germs.”

  I got up; his eyes grew wide as I held my hand out in front of me. He started running.

  “Hold still! I need to wipe this all over your shirt.” He started running and squealing for his life in a playful manner. I did finally catch him but I had already wiped my hand on my pants. Instead, I flipped him over and with my right hand gripped the large muscle on the back of his leg and told him I was going to give him a monkey bite. I’d done it to my own kids a million times; it’s an especially ticklish part of the human anatomy and he was begging for mercy as I squeezed.

  “I see you are getting along with Gabriel,” Lana said, smiling as she came to check on her charge.

  “Yeah, this one thinks he’s a comedian.”

  “Mathieu told me to!” Gabriel was laughing so hard he could barely speak.

  Later that day was the ceremony. It was very similar to weddings back in my day. I wonder why there is the need to have an audience in attendance? Maybe it’s so that when people see a woman bossing a man around others can say: “Oh yeah, I know why that’s happening, I saw them get married.”

  I was standing up at the altar with a very nervous and profusely sweating Mathieu.

  “It’s not too late, man. You could change into your furry counterpart and we could both get the hell out of here. I’ll grab a keg while you fight for your freedom.”

  “Shut up, Mike,” Azile said from her side of the dais.

  “I’m just trying to give the man options. He doesn’t quite realize how dramatically his life is going to change. Looking at your balls sitting on the mantle is a lot different than being able to wear them all day.”

  “I honestly can’t figure out why I let you out in public,” Azile hissed.

  “It’s because we’re not married. I still have my balls.”

  Mathieu took this opportunity to pipe in. “About that, Mike, when are you going to make her an honest woman? You have kids together.”

  I started stammering. “I um, yeah, I’m going to get right on that. I’ll form a committee and we’ll...yeah.”

  I was saved when someone started playing something that looked suspiciously like a guitar. I didn’t recognize the song, but its intent was clear: to announce the bride. Lana came out from underneath an awning. I almost swallowed my Adam’s apple; she was strikingly beautiful. Her golden hair was done up in ringlets; she was wearing a small tiara and her dark blue dress was shimmering.

  “Holy shit,” I said as she started coming down the aisle.

  Mathieu seemed to immediately calm once he saw her. I don’t think it was the wedding that had him riled up, but rather being in front of so many people. It was hard to reconcile the girl that had given me burlap clothes not so long ago with the woman that was now wedding my best friend. The ceremony was a little longer than we’d anticipated but no one objected, which was cool. I think Mathieu would have bitten them in half if they had. The reception was a blur. I met more festive people than I could possibly remember. I stayed close to the keg and eventually Azile had to escort me back to our quarters. As days went for me, it was a pretty great one. As far as I knew, I had not got in any trouble, I had not made any significant social faux pas, all was right. That should have been my first clue that something bad was right around the corner.

  I drank more than anyone has a right to, so it stood to reason that sometime during the night I was going to have to get up. I reached over to Azile; she was on her side facing me, clearly asleep. The babies’ crib was next to the bed on her side, both of the munchkins were fast asleep as well. I was going to do my absolute best to make sure that they all stayed in their current condition. Wasn’t going to be easy,
considering I was still roughly five sheets to the wind, it was dark as pitch in the room, and I was unfamiliar with my surroundings. I sat up, hoping that my eyes would adjust to the gloom, which made absolutely no sense, though. My eyes had been shut; wasn’t going to get much darker than that. My night vision was as good as it was going to get.

  I started weighing options, like maybe I could hold it for a few hours more, or what would be worse? Me waking everyone up when I fell over a table, or me wetting the bed when my bladder had had enough?

  “I’ll just go slow.” I glacier-like slid off the bed and had a moment of panic when my foot came up against something furry. Took me a second to realize it was Oggie, that meant Sebastian was close by, and if I so much as looked at her crossly, she would start mewling incessantly. I did not pick up my feet so much as shuffle them, figured the odds of stubbing a toe were much decreased that way. Something was niggling in the back of my mind as I navigated around the animals and headed to the bathroom. It was quiet; so quiet as to be called silent. Oggie usually snored loud enough he would wake himself up. If he was already up, he would have most certainly greeted me as I got off the bed.

  And then there was Azile; I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a lighter sleeper in my life. There were times I’d gotten out of bed without waking her, but never without slightly disturbing her to the point she would roll over.

  “I’m like a ninja,” I said, right as I plowed my toe into a table leg. “Cocksucking whore of a biscuit eater.” I waited until the initial burst of pain subsided to the dull ache of a broken toe, then I completely forgot about my newest injury and the pressing need of my bladder. Something was amiss. I’d now certainly made enough noise that everyone in this room should be looking at me with accusing eyes for disturbing their slumber. Right this very second it was so quiet I could have heard a cricket fart in the far corner of the room. Speaking of which, is that actually a thing? Can that happen? I would have dwelled on it longer, but something had me on the verge of being terrified.