Of course, there was a downside too, and that was also all the privacy. It was a hassle if she found out that she had forgotten some vital ingredient for dinner, and a night out meant maybe going to the two-screen theater in town for a second run movie. Never mind the possibility of meeting someone nice to spend time with.
It was a double-edged sword for sure, but overall, Lacy preferred living out here to living in the city, which she had done as well. She would take star gazing and nature walks over people-watching and neon lights any day of the week. Even if it did get a little lonely at times.
Living here hadn’t started out as lonely, of course. She didn’t think she ever would have bought the place if it hadn’t been for Luke. Luke and Lacy, it even sounded cute, which everyone had said they were. For a while, it was true too. Then…well, things had changed, and not for the better. Now, here she was living out in the middle of nowhere, and who knew where he was.
She straightened up from weeding the tomato plants and pulled up her shirtfront to wipe the sweat off her face. Not very lady like, but who cared? It wasn’t like anyone was around. She sighed as she looked at everything that needed to be done. The garden was only half way weeded, if that. The pool needed some attention, or she’d find herself battling the bright, green algae that always seemed one sunny day away from blooming. The house needed a new paint job, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and the steps down from the back deck were starting to rot at the bottom. She wasn’t even sure what to do about that.
Still, it would all get done, eventually.
“One thing at a time,” she said aloud, which was a habit that she had fallen into over the last few weeks. Ever since Luke had done what felt like would be his final disappearing act.
She bent back to her task, knowing that if she didn’t keep up on it, the weeds would take over the whole garden. While that may not be the most urgent thing that needed to be done, she enjoyed it, no matter how hot and sweaty it made her. There was something satisfying in finishing the job. After, she would get a tall glass of iced tea, sit in a chair on the deck and look out at her freshly weeded garden and the slightly green pool. Maybe later, she’d shock the pool so that tomorrow she could jump in. Since it was the weekend, an early morning swim might be the perfect thing to start the day.
Later, she sat on her deck, hating the feel of the bug spray that she put on after her shower, but if she hadn’t, she’d be eaten alive by the mosquitoes. It was another dichotomy of living where she did. She looked out over her yard, with the woods beyond, already deep in shadow as evening came on. The fireflies glowed on and off as she watched, and when she looked up, the occasional bat flitted through the air. She smiled, wishing more of those were around. They didn’t creep her out, like they did a lot people, and she’d rather have them than the mosquitoes any day.
She raised her glass of iced tea to her lips, and froze, staring into the gloom under the trees. Not for the first time, she swore she saw something there. It wasn’t large, maybe a little smaller than her, but hunched, as if whatever it was walked bent over on two legs. She wasn’t even sure it was there, or if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It was just a shape, slightly darker than the rest of the forest around it.
She slowly rose to her feet, setting the iced tea down carefully on the arm of the Adirondack chair she had been lounging in. Moving as silently as she could, she crept to the edge of the stairs and down them, then across the lawn. This was the first time she had approached the figure. The other times she had merely stared until her eyes watered, listening to the sound of her rapidly beating heart, until the night had grown darker and the shape melted in with the other shadows. It had scared the life out of her then, and did now, too.
Her breath came a little quicker than she liked as she moved forward, and she could feel her palms becoming moist.
“Relax,” she told herself, “it’s a stump or something. You’re being stupid.”
But it wasn’t. She knew her yard well enough to know that there were no stumps, or fallen logs, or anything else like that right there. That area was a makeshift compost pile that she threw spoiled vegetables from the garden on. Supposedly, if you did that, the deer and the rabbits would find it and go there, rather than nibbling on the good stuff still growing. At least, that was the theory; in reality, she didn’t see much difference.
As she got closer, she could see that the shape was moving. Not much, but a little bit. It was right behind her compost pile and swayed back and forth slightly. Maybe it was a branch or sapling, stirring in the breeze. Not that there was a breeze tonight, but still.
She stepped on the rock when she was still a few yards away, feeling the sharp point punch up between her toes. An involuntary yelp escaped her as she danced up onto one foot. There was a sudden noise of crashing undergrowth, and her head whipped around, but whatever had been behind the compost pile was gone. Now, instead of a dark shape, she could see deeper into the woods, and there was nothing there.
That would teach her to try to sneak up on something barefoot. Next time, tomorrow night maybe, she’d be ready. With shoes on and flashlight in hand, she’d scare whatever this was away for good. Or at least she hoped she would.
Halfway back to the deck it occurred to her what the shape was. It must have been a bear cub. They weren’t common in the area, but they weren’t unheard of either. Although, if there was a cub around, then momma must be nearby too. Maybe she’d have to rethink trying to sneak up on it after all.
The morning swim cleared away the lingering remnants of the night’s scare. She was even able to smile about it as she floated in the water. Now that the sun was out and she could see everything clearly, she was certain that it had been a young bear at the compost pile. The deer may be ignoring the spare vegetables, but at least something was enjoying them.
She looked over that way again, and noticed something that she had missed earlier when she looked out the window. There was a scrap of something hanging from a branch. From here, she couldn’t tell what it was, but it fluttered in the slight breeze. It almost looked like a piece of cloth.
She slipped off her float and climbed the ladder to get out of the pool. Wrapping her towel around herself, and slipping on her flip-flops, (no rocks in the bottom of her feet this time, thank you very much!), she walked to the compost pile.
It was a scrap of cloth, caught on a sharp point that was the result of a branch breaking off. Lacy had no idea how it could have come to be there, but she reached out and plucked it off the branch to examine it more closely. It was a pale blue color, and made of cotton, like a t-shirt. One side of it was hemmed, the others torn, as if it had been ripped from a finished piece of clothing. She hadn’t seen it yesterday, but it was possible that she had overlooked it. Only…
She looked back at her garden. Yesterday, she had done all the weeding and had found several tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers that were no good. They had all gone directly into a bucket she kept by her when working, and dumped in the compost pile when it was full. As a matter of fact, she had done that twice…and hadn’t noticed this good-sized piece of bright cloth either time.
Her mind flashed back to the figure in the shadows the night before, and the sudden flight when she had made noise. It had to have been a bear, right? Except that bears don’t wear clothes.
The thought that someone, not something, but someone, had been crouched here in the shadows, possibly watching her, made goosebumps break out on her skin, and she tugged the towel more tightly around her. She turned and hurried back to her house, shutting the door and locking it behind her. From the windows, she examined the woods, eyes searching for any sign of anything out of the ordinary.
But there were only trees and undergrowth, squirrels and birds, the leaves and the wind, and nothing more.
It was times like this that she missed Luke the most. Despite the drinking, and the delusions, she wished he were here right now.
CHAPTER 4
The city end
ed eventually and at last Solomon walked along country roads, surrounded by trees, fields and the occasional farm. His way wound up into the hills, deeper into forested land, the trees growing larger and more closely packed, and the undergrowth more dense. The Hound walked beside him, and every now and then, he would put his hand down and scratch it between the ears. The first time he had done that, the dog had flinched away, but now it pressed its head up into his hand, urging him to scratch harder and to keep going.
There were lots of stares and suspicious looks from the occasional car that passed, but Solomon understood why that would be. He was still filthy, still wearing the old clothes that he had found himself in when he awoke, and was walking with a positively massive dog by his side. So he ignored the looks, and kept walking into a more and more rural area.
Eventually, he came to a fork in the road and stopped.
“Well, what do you think?” he said to the dog. “Should we take the turn, or keep going the direction we were?”
The dog sniffed at the blacktop, took a step forward, and trotted to the road cutting off to the right. It lifted its head, sniffed the air, turned back to Solomon, and barked.
“Well, I guess that answers that. To the right we go. Good boy,” he said, scratching the dogs head again as he passed.
The road led into deeper woods, and the air cooled under the leaves. Solomon relished the smell of the trees and the way the light danced on the pavement. This was better. He had yearned to be among nature again, and was becoming more relaxed as he walked along.
Suddenly, the dog gave a soft woof, and bounded off the side of the road, disappearing into the undergrowth.
“Hey,” Solomon called, “where are you going?”
There was more rustling in the weeds, and the dog popped back out onto the road. It looked at Solomon, barked at him, and ran back into the woods.
“I guess I’m supposed to follow.”
He smiled as he stepped off the road, pushing his way through the mass of weeds and bushes that lined the side of it. He had never heard of anyone becoming friends with one of the Hunting Hounds, he realized, certainly not when they were the prey. As he had been walking over the last day and a half, it had occurred to him that he must have been the Hounds target, not the young woman or her children. If that had been the case, the Hound wouldn’t have stopped when it was healed and had come back from…
From where? Where had it come from in the first place? The same place that he had lost, he suspected. Having the dog around him made the ever-present feeling of loss slightly more tolerable. It was as if he had a little piece of his home here with him. A strange piece to be sure, but nevertheless, it was something.
He followed the crashing of the dog through the woods, until it started to be drowned out by a different noise. Pausing, it took him a moment to recognize the sound of rushing water.
Solomon picked up the pace, hurrying along, until he finally saw it.
In front of him was a large stream, with clear, rapidly running water. It flowed over and among several large rocks, where it collected in pools with sandy bottoms. The dog was already in one, splashing around and sniffing at the water, the rocks and the bank.
“Good boy!” Solomon cried.
Within seconds, his few clothes were shed and he had waded into one of the pools. The water was crystal clear and icy cold, but to Solomon it felt like heaven. He sank under, his hands scrubbing at his hair. He sluiced water over his arms, his shoulders and his face, wishing that he had soap, but glad for the water at least. The current whisked away the grime as he scrubbed it off, using sand from the bottom to help scour the worst of it.
When he was done, he pulled his clothes into the water and scrubbed at them, then laid them out on rocks to let them dry. He splashed around a bit more in the cold water, climbed out, and stood shivering in the mottled sunlight coming through the trees. He looked around to make sure no one else was near, and climbed onto some rocks, near the middle of the stream where the sun was stronger, to dry.
The sun beat down on him as he stretched out, and he luxuriated in its rays. He closed his eyes and let himself doze, lulled by the sound of the rushing water. Before he was even aware that it was happening, he slipped into sleep.
There was water rushing by him, the current tugging against his body, trying to push him further downstream. It wasn’t strong enough to do so though, and he laughed as someone splashed water into the back of his head. He turned and splashed the person back, the water obscuring her face, but he could hear her laughter. Like the tinkling of bells, it was light and airy, and it made his heart soar to hear it.
The water tasted sweet and pure, and he knew that he would never thirst while he was near it. He looked up at the trees arching overhead, and felt that everything was perfect with the world. On the bank of the stream where he and the other person swam was a pile of clothes, folded carefully, with a sword belt on top of them, the sword still firmly encased in its sheath.
He looked back at his companion, but she was gone. He smiled as he dove under the water, expecting to catch her trying to sneak up on him from below, but she wasn’t there either. When he surfaced, it had grown darker, the clouds covering the sun. A wind was kicking up, and the water started to chop into small waves.
He stroked toward the side, intent on getting to his sword, feeling that he needed it. Although what good a sword would do against wind or water, he didn’t know. The current grew stronger, and no matter how hard he swam, the bank stayed out of reach.
There was a noise like thunder, and he looked upstream to see a wall of water descending toward him. There was a scream, he couldn’t tell from where, and then the water hit him. It tumbled him under, and pushed him along, dragging him deeper. Too deep, the stream couldn’t possibly reach this far down…but he couldn’t get out…
He woke with a start and a giant gasp. He was panting and his chest hurt as if he had been holding his breath for too long. He lay there, staring up at the sky, still hearing the laughter, and that scream, and knowing, again, that it was a real memory. He had swum with someone in a stream, or a pool, in some other land, in some other time.
The sun had moved across the sky, and Solomon realized that he had been sleeping for a couple of hours now. The stream was apparently remote enough that no one came to it, at least not in the middle of a weekday, a fact he was profoundly grateful for, considering his state of undress. Now that he was cleaner, he was more conscious of how it would look should someone discover him. He gathered his clothes, the shirt, pants and underwear dry for the most part, and pulled them on. He had soaked the sneakers too, and they were still wet, but he stuffed his feet into them anyway.
When he was dressed again, he looked around for the dog. It was lying on a rock near the one he had fallen asleep on, its head on its paws, snoring gently.
“Come on,” Solomon called to it. “Time to head out.”
The dogs head came up, and with a bound it was off its rock and at his side.
Solomon looked down at the shaggy, gray head looking expectedly up at him.
“You need a name. How about Fido?”
If it was possible for a dog to look skeptical, this one did. Solomon laughed. No, a Hunting Hound needed a better name than Fido for sure. Plus…a thought occurred to him and he bent down and looked.
“Guess I should have done that before, huh?” he said, smiling. “Okay, then, how about Princess Buttercup?”
The Hound didn’t even bother to acknowledge that one, but turned her back on him. Solomon laughed.
“Well, whatever your name is, you certainly are a smart one. Come on, we’ll keep thinking while we walk.”
They moved off through the woods together, side by side.
As far as towns go, it was small, and quaint. Solomon had seen it from above as they skirted a small cliff a short time ago. The road looped around and down the hillside, the forest thinned, and the houses became closer together. Soon, they were walking through pleasant su
burban areas, and heading toward the middle of the village.
There was a small park in the center of town, more just a grassy, open area, with a few benches, a few trees, and a fenced in area for people’s dogs to run. It was a quiet evening and there weren’t many people around, and he noticed that the town had that half run-down look that some get when there weren’t many people living in the area and businesses had dried up from big box competition.
He made his way to a bench and sat down on it, intending to rest there for a few moments, and then find a place where they could sleep for the night. Neither he nor the Hound had eaten at all and his stomach was starting to feel it. He imagined that hers was too. Tomorrow, he would have to make a plan to find some food, and maybe some new clothes. He couldn’t continue to wear the same thing day in and day out.
All day, as he had walked along, he had been trying to remember more of his past life, but nothing had come to him, other than the dream earlier. It seemed as if he needed a specific stimulus to remember anything, like encountering the dog. That had spurred memories of the Hounds, and knowing that he had encountered them before, but nothing else. Not when, or why.
He left the bench, walked to one of the trees, and settled down with his back against it. He really wasn’t sure if he’d be left alone or if someone would confront him and ask about his presence here, but until that happened, he wasn’t going to be too concerned.
A few people did pass him by, and there were curious glances at both him and the Hound. No one stopped or said anything however, so after a while, Solomon closed his eyes, and prepared to focus again, to see if he could force any other memories to the surface.
He had barely started when he heard the noise.
“Ahem.”
Solomon's Exile Page 3
