by Mark Boliek
Chapter 6
The children sat looking at me with an excited silence - or maybe it was a perplexing nervousness, I really couldn’t tell. It was hard for me to make sense of Billy when I first learned about him too. I mean, a spirit guide? A mysterious being that controlled some alternative, manmade world called Bruinduer? How could this be?
I really hoped they would understand him and what his role was. There was still a lot of story left, and Billy was at its center.
The children looked around the house in amazement, and I paused the story for a moment. I could see in the turning of their heads that they were trying to visualize JT sitting where they sat; maybe on the same rug or on a chair near the fire. You could practically quantify the excitement – mixed with a little fear - by the twinkle in their eyes and uneasy spring in their movements.
Two of the little boys, who had a tendency to fidget through the story as I told it, looked up at the massive heads of deer, moose, and other animals that were mounted on the wall behind us to the North. When they caught sight of the thick, bushy mane of the lion just behind them and saw the animal’s penetrating eyes, opened jaw and blazing fangs, their bodies shook with fright. A very girlish squeal shot through the gathering, reminiscent of an unsuspecting shiver down the spine on a cold day.
A little girl raised her hand. “May I go the bathroom?” she asked, and I felt a little relieved because I too thought it was time for a break to collect my thoughts and allow the children to settle. I was still very excited to be telling my tale and as usual, I did not want to miss a thing. Old men’s memories tend to slow and fade with age.
Some children stayed behind and continued to look around the great hall while others went to the restrooms. The most curious peered down a couple of the hallways, careful not to venture out of the reach of their parents’ hands as they pulled them along.
I got up and stretched my legs. I walked past the great fireplace, went to the huge French double doors and flung open the long, green curtains. The afternoon sun had begun to disappear behind dark, ominous clouds. The wind picked up and danced through the tops of the ocean swells, turning them a foamy white. A few moments later, without so much as a warning, the rain started to come down in thick sheets that swayed back and forth like ghosts in the night lit by bursts of lightning.
Though their power is immense, I loved evening storms; being in the great mansion gave me a sense of safety as nature unleashed its fury.
I had just felt a small smile begin to dress my face when the lights suddenly flickered throughout the house and went out. As silence slammed down you could’ve heard a pin drop. Then quickly, screeches ripped through the quiet. The children and their parents, some forgoing their need for the restroom, hustled back and gathered in the big hall on the rug by the roaring, safe light of the fire. I plopped back into my big leather chair with some sense of urgency in hopes of trying to continue my story. The younger children were in a frenzy, and the older ones chattered and looked about, not knowing what to do next. I let out a massive whistle and the room hushed. My audience looked at me with alarmed eyes that sparkled in the glow of the flames.
“Just to let you know,” I stated to my group to focus their attention to me as my grandson vanished through the west corridor to see if he could fix our little power problem.
The children’s eyes widened and I continued the story without missing a beat. Acting calm during this most unfortunate circumstance seemed to be the right thing to do. “I don’t want you to think that JT and Michael weren’t a little scared at what had been happening to them or at the prospect of what might happen later. Strange feelings and tingles shoot through us when events start to unfold that we don’t fully control or understand. During these calamities, we are called to make a decision, sometimes very quickly. With courage, you can accept what is happening to you and face it; with fear, you usually run from it (much like the lights going off around us).
I tend to believe that Michael tried to weigh a similar set of options in his predicament. On one point, he wanted to run from Billy and his unfolding destiny. I have concluded, however, that his will wouldn’t let him. His internal pride propelled him forward to face the manifestation of his fear. The human species is best when it is under pressure. I think he just needed a little help from JT. You would have to agree that there are some things in this world you can’t do by yourself, and I have to believe that facing an unconventional character such as Billy in your dreams is one of those.”
The children became still. They appeared to have temporarily forgotten about the power failure, even as the weather outside turned worse. The rain trampled so hard on the tile shingles of the massive house, its stampede echoed off the walls of its many rooms, including those of the great hall. My story began again with JT wrestling to fall asleep after his run-in with the trembling, exhausted Michael.
“JT closed his eyes and tried in vain to go to sleep. He was plagued by worry about meeting Billy again.
He stared at the dark ceiling trying to think of how to approach the creature if he came in his dreams. Should he be tactful, or should he be blunt? His heart hammered in his chest and he felt his blood course through his veins as the anger he projected toward Billy began to consume him. JT had found a temper he didn’t realize he had, and now it only surfaced when he was close to or thinking about Billy. He felt it in the barn as Willy told his Vryheid story. Now it bloomed fresh as he thought of the prospect of facing the guide in his sleep. He had never remembered himself having such a temper, and though this emerging anger could be seen as a negative, it made him feel alive. It gave him a purpose - a purpose to find answers about his past. This was all brand new to him.
He rubbed his feet together and gritted his teeth. He slammed his body back and forth to try to find some position of comfort. His temper was hot and his anger boiled, and he assumed that the combination of rage and excitement that he was experiencing couldn’t be good. Over what seemed like a lifetime, he forced himself to calm down and fell into a deep slumber.
Just as he became peaceful, he drifted into a dream and found himself draped in darkness. He stood barefoot on what felt like a wooden platform carefully notched together.
Suddenly, the platform broke way and JT swayed back and forth with the regular up and down tempo of the bobbing sea. The dream was very real. It was even more real than the dream he had had two nights earlier, lying in the horse barn; then he heard a burly voice laughing and persuading him to push open a door.
JT floated through the darkness, its blanket illuminated to a thick, gray, choking fog, then separated like melting sheets of ice on a river at the start of spring. Above, he glanced at five large canvas sails fluttering in a faint wind. Stars started to poke through the thinning fog like pinholes, and the faint moonlight that escaped through the vapor cast uneven shadows over the large ship where he stood.
JT’s heart jumped. ‘Wow!’ he thought as his mind searched for another term to express the experience. He saw the remnants of a little brass placard fastened to the ship’s wheel a few feet in front of him that read: ‘The Mary Maid.’ His senses were heightened. He could not tell if it was fear, anxiousness, or a mixture of both that now gripped his insides - it was impossible to express how he felt.
He heard the heavy creak of footsteps on the wooden paneled deck behind him growing louder until he felt someone’s breath on the back of his neck. His hair pricked and his spine tingled. Then all became quiet. He wanted to turn around, but the assortment of feelings coursing through his body and his inability to take an even breath rendered him petrified. What was over his shoulders? Would it be the little barefooted boy Willy with the blonde hair from the farm standing on some kind of pedestal, or would it be the creature he thought the child was turning into?
JT gathered his nerves and sucked in a mountain of air. He only flinched for part of a second, and then he whirled around. Standing in front of him, practically nose to nose, was the old man he remembered from the picture in the
journal he had studied earlier that night. His grandfather stood rigid in his military uniform. His flowing white hair wisped in the cool breeze, and the jagged line of a smirk was visible beneath his salty beard. Ol’ Captain Luke hid his smile and opened his mouth to speak. Just before he could utter a syllable, the ship bellowed violently. The sky swirled about and opened into a menacing, black hole that howled like a large vacuum.
‘What on earth? Noooooo!’ JT screamed as he reached for his grandfather, who went upside down and twirled toward the vortex.
Everything around him - the ship, the sails, the clearing night air, the pinhole stars, and his grandfather - was sucked into the hole and vanished with a smattering pop. Silence and dark slammed down like a hammer, and JT heard the big, booming laugh he remembered fading away in the horse barn. This time, it was coming closer and getting louder. Adrenaline shot through JT and his palms became clammy. He knew that the spirit guide, Billy, was about to make his presence known.
‘Hello, boy,’ a low, burly, dark voice echoed through the darkness. JT gazed around the darkness and two huge, red, burning eyes opened in the distance. Their pupils were darker than anything JT had ever seen. The only thing he thought could have survived in them was gloom.
JT panicked - his breath became shallow again, and the back of his throat went dry, but his temper grew. He decided to be blunt.
‘I don’t know what you’re looking at!’ JT stuck his chest out and hoped he would appear tougher than he felt. ‘I may have been a boy then, but I’m a man now.’ JT immediately felt like a fool, but he couldn’t let the monster get the best of him.
There was a huge burst of laughter from the eyes, which twitched with each chuckle. ‘Ha! You’re still a boy to me.’
‘What do you want from us?!’ JT yelled back at the big eyes. Wind began to howl through the darkness. JT stood as firm as he could.
‘Seems to me you’re the one that has a - what did that scared little rabbit tell me - oh yeah, a couple of bones to pick with me?’ There was another low snicker.
No matter how solidly JT tried to stand, his toughness was meaningless when confronting those awful red eyes. He really didn’t know how real this vision was. He hesitated before he became all out vengeful toward Billy. ‘Um...,’ he started, his voice trembled. He didn’t know if lashing out totally to those hideous eyes would cause irreparable harm to himself. That thought lingered for only a second; JT’s temper had won. He launched at the monster. ‘Michael’s had enough; I’ve had enough; what do you want?!’
The creature behind the eyes coughed. It then growled like rolling thunder to clear its throat. ‘Michael’s just a scared little man, but he was first and - he has the power.’ The eyes scanned back and forth and started to move around JT, studying him like a scientist studying a rat. They were probing, peering, jarring eyes that blazed through him. JT followed them trying to return the intimidating stare, but he was more comical than threatening.
‘I told you. You forgot about me and I don’t like it. It’s time to come back. I’m tired of waiting for you. I want this over so I can have control again.’ JT felt the deep bass of Billy’s voice, each vowel vibrating, penetrating his insides.
‘What’s that supposed to mean, he was first and you want control?! Control of what - US? What’s this all about?!’ JT demanded. The more he stood there facing those eyes, the more confident he became.
‘Stop asking questions, boy. You know, but you just don’t want to know. All these answers you seek. The answers you think you’re owed. Come back. Come back to Bruinduer. Find out for yourself. Don’t be such a spineless wimp. Don’t be like the rabbit.’ The deep chuckle and condescension of Billy’s voice started to irk JT.
‘Just leave Michael alone!’ JT yelled out, his temper exploding through his voice. ‘And fix Gregory’s tree!’
‘Ha! Always the little hothead; taking up for that little rabbit when it comes to me; when it comes to Bruinduer. He just can’t let it go. Why do you protect him so?’ The huge eyelids shut and the big eyes went dark. The wind fell flat. ‘Only if you come back - then maybe- I might leave the little grub be.’ JT was somewhat taken aback by the now gentle tone of the monster’s voice. ‘But it’s too late for the tree,’ said Billy.
JT jumped straight up and woke from his sleep. His lungs were flooded with air, his heart clobbered his ribs, and his body was logged with sweat.”
“JT sprang from his bed. His injured knee buckled and the intense pain shot through him like lightning. He paused to let the pain settle and then reached for his cane. He looked at the wood and ivory very differently than he had before Michael, Billy, and the story of the Vryheid breezed into his life. It was more than just a walking cane now. It was a piece of a story he could not fathom at the moment.
He remembered he dreamt about it being from another place, a far-off world, throwing it in the air and twirling it about. He knew every inch of the ebony staff and ivory handle, including the deep, cracked groove that started from the top of the skull down the back. He felt guilty of his recklessness - his tossing the cane about without regard.
Now that he had proof that the cane was from a fantastic place, it was fragile, important, worthy of his protection. He was afraid to put weight on it as he staggered down the hall to Michael’s room, but even though he was now aware of its significance, JT still needed it to move around.
JT was awake earlier than usual, although every day was an early day on the farm. The darkness outside was fading into white as he cracked opened Michael’s door. He remembered how Michael was bunched up in the corner of the room just hours before, trembling and sweating. He was relieved when he saw Michael sleeping comfortably, snuggled under a down comforter with a look of gentle peace upon his face. He dared not wake him. JT knew he was dead tired and needed his rest.
He really wanted to chat with him about his confrontation with Billy the night before. He wanted answers to even more questions. What was the meaning of Michael being the ‘first,’ and what did the monster want control over? He also wanted to tell Michael that he was correct in that Billy was a nasty bugger.
‘Maybe Billy is giving me some time,’ JT thought as he shuffled down the stairs and through the back door of the kitchen. It seemed to JT that Michael had been sleeping for more than just a few minutes. Billy was leaving Michael alone, at least for the moment. He then thought that it was probably just a foolish hope. Billy seemed to do what he wanted when he wanted. JT did not get the impression that Billy cared too much for his time.
Gregory and Louise were not up yet, and JT knew it was very early. He was never up before them. He went out the back door quietly onto the grounds of the farm that had been passed down through Gregory’s family and peered over the vast property. It was quite peaceful and chilly. The frosted dew thawed and dropped from the green blades of grass as the sun peeked over the horizon. The animals on the farm, ducks, chickens and cows, ambled around in their pens. He heard the rustle of leaves and felt the breeze as it cascaded through the mature oaks around the house, and suddenly he came to a realization. He knew that this was his last day on the farm. He had to go back to Ol’ Captain Luke’s house with Michael. JT was amazed at how clear it all was. He had it easy there with the Shorts, but his brain bubbled with thoughts he couldn’t comprehend. He felt an overwhelming responsibility to protect the stranger that had come to him the day before. Though it was hard to admit, Billy was correct. The only way he could truly find out about his past, his elusive childhood, was to go back.
JT hobbled down to the horse barn, which was clean. All of the floors were swept and the tools were in their proper places. There was nothing left for him to do. He met George the horse and patted him on his moist nose.
‘I’ll miss you big fella. Maybe I’ll get the answer one day on why life is the way it is, but until then, your silent advice makes the most sense. Goodbye old pal.’ JT also gave a quick, sweet goodbye to Gracie, and George grunted with indifference as he went back to eati
ng his oats.
JT limped along the grounds, his mind racing. Though he concluded that it was time for him to move on, a voice planted itself behind his ear and repeated to him that it would still be OK to stay. He had had a passive life here. He went past the Ol’ 22 and stared at the big, old, oak tree in the middle of the field blowing in the wind like a big hand waving goodbye. His experiences on the farm replayed before him as he burned the memory of this place he called home into his soul. He would never forget it here.
He hobbled to the tree, looked up at the menacing letters Billy had burned into it, and then patted it gently. He started the tractor that had been left the day before, traveled down the service road, and went back into the house. There, Gregory and Louise were in the kitchen eating breakfast.
‘You up early, son. Heard you come in with the tractor. Thanks for remembering to get that,’ Gregory stated, flipping the pages of the newspaper.
‘Yup,’ JT gulped. The room felt different. ‘Can I tell you somethin’?’ JT was looking up at the cabinets, but the question was intended for both Gregory and Louise.
‘Of course, JT. What is it?’ Louise answered as she placed a piece of jelly toast in front of him.
‘I gotta go,’ JT said, his eyes starting to squint as though he were in pain. He braced himself for the Shorts’ reaction.
‘Go where?’ Louise asked, setting down a cup of milk that quivered in her hand. A drop of the white liquid splattered on the table beside the toast.
‘Gotta go where he’s gotta go,’ Gregory answered, turning a page of the newspaper. He peered straight at the page as though JT’s statement did not faze him; however, the slight crack in his voice betrayed his emotions.
Louise didn’t say anything else or ask any more questions. She covered her face and fumbled out of the kitchen. A sense of dread engulfed the room.
‘I’m sorry - I can’t explain what’s going on - I don’t - I don’t think I even believe it myself,’ JT said with a touch of sorrow in his voice. He slouched down in his seat and tapped the piece of toast on his plate. ‘But I can’t find out what I need to or what I want - here.’
‘No need to explain,’ Gregory replied. The edges of his newspaper quivered, though the straight tone of his voice remained unchanged.
JT looked toward the living room where Louise had rushed.
‘Don’t mind her,’ Gregory said. ‘She knew this day would come. She said she would be ready, but just like anything, you think you’re ready for somethin’ until it really happens. Then all bets are off on how you think you’ll act.’ The big, jolly man went slowly into the living room and consoled the crying Louise by wrapping his teddy bear‑like arms around her. Although Gregory felt very mixed, happiness rushed through his body as he continued to hug Louise. He had hoped JT would make this decision on his own, and, he thought with pride, he did (Of course, the events that happened during the last couple of days had certainly helped in his choice).
JT lumbered past the living room; the only sound was his cane tapping the wooden floors. He did not want to see Louise crying or watch her in pain so he quietly crept up the stairs. He hobbled to Michael’s room where he found the bespectacled, rejuvenated man packed and ready to go sitting on the edge of his bed as though he were about to spring through the ceiling.
‘I guess you know I’m goin’ with you,’ JT stated as he looked at his excited visitor. He turned, shook his head and went back to his room to pack his things.
‘Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear,’ Michael smiled, chasing JT from the room, his cheeks aching. Finally, he had gotten some sleep. Most importantly, he wasn’t leaving alone.
‘Don’t forget your jacket! It’s getting chilly!’ JT heard Louise yell up the stairs as he shut his suitcase, her voice cracking but seemingly calm. He poked his head into his closet and saw his black jacket hanging there. He had forgotten to pack it.”
