The Real

by James Cole

  “Now what?” Tavalin whined.

  “Don’t be a girly man, Tavalin. It’s not time for class yet. I believe you said as long as I got you back in time for class. I want to see what those people are doing way out here at two in the morning. If you’re not up for a little recognizance mission, you could always wait for me in the car...”

  “I should never have agreed to come,” muttered Tavalin. “When will I ever learn?”

  *****

  “Now it’s an adventure,” Jeremy affirmed as they negotiated the slick logs, underbrush and stinking mud that lined the lake shore, their only illumination provided by the crescent moon, pasted like a smile on the backdrop of the starry sky.

  “These mosquitoes are tearing me up,” Tavalin whispered.

  “If I were you, I’d be more worried about snakes.”

  Tavalin chuckled and replied, “That’s why I let you lead. I figure if anybody gets bitten, it’ll be you.”

  “And don’t forget about the alligators,” added Jeremy, not to be outdone.

  “There’re no alligators out here.” Tavalin spoke self-assuredly, but when Jeremy didn’t answer, he asked, “Could there be?”

  “You never know.”

  Jeremy didn’t know why he enjoyed antagonizing his friend so much, but he did.

  After thirty miserable minutes of tedious progress the noise in the woods was now plainly identifiable as music intermixed with voices. It sounded like a party.

  Jeremy still had not told Tavalin the primary reason they were here, why he had been so dogged determined to struggle through the forest at night. Yes, he had initially been curious to identify the noise in the woods, but his new motivation was Monika, his little angel with the raven hair. That was her car and he had to see what she was up to.

  Finally they emerged from the muddy hell to an outcropping of land beyond which a narrow ribbon of sand tied the water to the forest’s edge. On the far side of the secluded beach, about a quarter mile in the distance, a large bonfire burned. They had found the revelers.

  “Would you take a look at that!” Tavalin exclaimed. “That’s wicked!”

  A group of perhaps ten silhouettes danced energetically around a huge bonfire, their movements in perfect synchronization with each other but a half-count out of time with the music because of the distance from which Jeremy and Tavalin observed.

  “They’re having a party, mystery solved. Can we go now? I’m freezing.” Tavalin turned his back as if he were about to hike back to the car.

  “Hold up, Tavalin. After all that I’m not going to just turn around and leave. I want to see what they’re up to.”

  “Why?” asked Tavalin obstinately.

  “Let’s just sit down and rest for a minute.”

  “I don’t know who died and made you boss,” muttered Tavalin.

  After a few minutes, Jeremy said, “You know, it looks like some kind of primitive mating ritual, like something you might see on the Discovery channel, wild pygmies in the jungle or something.”

  “Not exactly a meeting of the Sticks River Chapter of the Satanic Devil-worshipers, is it?” Tavalin asked, not a little smugly.

  “All I said was it sounded a little like satanic chants, but I guess it was just a weird effect of the wind and the music,” Jeremy replied, and then added in jest, “although, maybe they used up all their favorite devil-chanting CDs at the beginning of the party.”

  The water reflected just enough starlight for Jeremy to see Tavalin roll his eyes into the white.

  Jeremy still wanted to verify if Monika were here or not but there was no way to recognize anyone from this distance. “Why don’t we sneak in a little closer, get a better look,” he suggested.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Jeremy. What if they see us?”

  “We’ll just have to be careful that they don’t.”

  They crept deliberately along the interface of the woods and the narrow beach, hugging the bushes. After ten minutes of stealthy approach they had closed to within fifty yards of the blaze, almost within its outermost circle of light, close enough to positively identify Monika if she were here and too close to suit Tavalin.

  “All right already,” urged Tavalin. “This is close enough.”

  They crouched behind the trunk of an ancient cedar tree, mesmerized by the unique and unusual circumstances of the night: the rhythmic oscillations of young bodies with the music; the complex patterns of shadow and moonlight on the luminescent sand of a secret beach; the black void of the lapping bay on one side and the rustling forest on the other; and the flames, a tiger that lunged time and time again toward unreachable prey, the pale-white crescent moon.

  One of the young bodies, Jeremy recognized. Monika was here, just as he knew she would be. “I’m going to move in a little bit closer,” he said.

  “What?” asked Tavalin, and in his wide-open eyes, fear and the fire’s reflection danced together. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Jeremy ignored his friend and crawled, belly down, like a Marine in the sand. Twenty yards later, he stopped at a low row of prickly plants, so close to the fire that he imagined he could feel its faint heat.

  Fascinated, Jeremy watched Monika’s every move. She moved with uninhibited passion and grace and, despite the proximity of the others, she danced alone. Or, more aptly, her partners were the fire, the lake and the late-rising moon. She danced with the world.

  The music ceased suddenly as did the writhing-dancing. Though his position in the shadows had not changed, Jeremy felt exposed. Without their previous preoccupation with the music and the dancing, they might be more likely to roam. What if one of the revelers needed to relieve him- or herself? The low bushes that concealed Jeremy might make for a convenient bathroom. He knew well enough that people who party in the woods pee in the woods. The extension of that thought ushered in a new concern: What if somebody had already tinkled over here? What if he were lying in it right now? As unpleasant as that might be he reminded himself that there were worse things than crawling in urine – like getting caught, for instance.

  Just as he feared, the group mulled about, some drifting toward the lake side of the bonfire while others scuttled away toward the woods. The latter individuals reappeared after a few minutes of privacy, presumptively with relaxed bladders. Jeremy wondered if the party might be over.

  After a few minutes the group began to coalesce nearer the bonfire. They talked to each other in voices too low for Jeremy to comprehend, but he interpreted the tone as one of hushed anticipation. When Monika reappeared, the others in the group settled into a semicircle facing the bonfire. Their conversations died and all became silent, save the crackling of the fire, the steady drone of the night insects, and the swish, swish sound of the miniature waves breaking on the sand.

  Monika stood before them and began to talk.

  “First of all,” she said, “I want to remind you that nothing we do or say can be spoken of to anyone outside our group. Remember your vow of secrecy.”

  She paused, letting her admonition sink in.

  “Now, a question: If you could become more than you are, more than you ever dreamed you could be, would you? Do you want to truly live? If you do, I can show you the way. Now is the quickening, the time of preparation during which we must band together for this common cause. We must not be afraid to dream or to dare to believe in the supernatural.”

  Monika spoke fervently – like a revival tent preacher – emphasizing, pausing, stretching out words and phrases in all the right places with a delivery as smooth as homemade ice cream. Captivated by her charisma, Jeremy wanted to believe in her and what she said even though he had no earthly idea of what she spoke.

  “Something big is coming down, something awe-inspiring, something you all will be ecstatic to be a part of.”

  “I’m feeling pretty damn ecstatic right now!” cried one of her subjects. “Right here, right now!” The assembly clapped and whooped it up in hearty agreement.

&
nbsp; Jeremy wondered if any of those ecstatic feelings sprang from the effects of Monika’s drug of choice, the Unreal.

  “But what is it?” an impetuous female voice asked. “Please, please tell us!”

  “I can’t say,” answered Monika. “Now is not the time. Have faith that what I say is real and true and be patient in the knowledge that it is coming soon. Those of you who prove your loyalty to me and to the group will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.”

  So powerful was the intrigue of Monika and her words that Jeremy had to fight back the urge to rise up and run to her. He wanted to show her that he could be the loyal one to stand by her side. Despite the peril and despite what he risked losing, he desperately wished to join Monika and her circle of friends.

  More than anything else, he wanted her.

  It was then that Jeremy glimpsed movement on the forest side – the darker side – of the bonfire. He strained to make out several – five or more –shadowy figures creeping out of the forest toward the bonfire. Monika and her crew, positioned as they were on the lake side of the fire were ignorant of their approach. What if it were a pack of wild dogs or wolves or- For the second time tonight Jeremy thought of Grady’s devil dogs, and the notion raised to full staff the flag of his fright. He could not know if Monika and her friends were in danger, but he could not simply sit back and allow them to be ambushed.

  But what could he do? Run screaming and waving his arms at the creatures, hoping to scare them away? If these were aggressive animals, that action might only provoke them. Or maybe he could yell out a warning, something like, Watch out everyone, here come the devil dogs! Jeremy imagined that any such warning that included the devil dogs moniker would only confuse and distract, not assist.

  Helpless in his indecision, Jeremy watched as the shadowy figures moved into the outermost ring of light. When the moment of recognition arrived, Jeremy could not believe his eyes. It could not be, but yet, there they were: young children, barefooted and dressed for summer, despite the chilly November wind.

  Without a word or pause, they filtered into the midst of Monika and her gang.

  Stranger still, not one in Monika’s group acknowledged the children in any way. It was as if Monika had so hypnotized her followers that they were oblivious to every other thing. Neither did Monika plainly respond, though Jeremy thought he heard a hiccup in her spiel when the children first burst on the scene. Of that, however, he could not be sure. She continued to speak while the others continued to listen. No one seemed able to even perceive the children who sat and stood silently among the members of Monika’s group.

  Just when Jeremy thought the strange procession settled, an additional visitor walked into the light to stand with Monika. Unlike the preceding children, this person was old – a woman with wispy gray hair and tattered clothing – but, as was the case with the other late-comers to the party, no one, save Jeremy, took notice.

  Jeremy tuned in again to Monika’s words but maintained his close scrutiny of the uninvited guests.

  “Where I am going,” she was saying, “where I want to take you is just like heaven. Once I locate the Source, we can all learn an alternative way – Claire’s Alternative Way. All you have to do is trust me and believe.”

  Wrapped up as he was in the unfolding scene before him, Jeremy had all but forgotten about Tavalin, who had remained behind at the old cedar tree. With a CRACK! as loud and sharp as a rifle retort, he remembered. Every face snapped around, their features distorted in the shadows cast by the bonfire.

  Jeremy clung to a meager hope that they still might not be found out. He put forth arguments, not only for his own peace of mind but also for Tavalin’s.

  They can’t see us. It might have been anything, a deer, a beaver, a falling limb. Just sit tight, my friend, and, whatever you do, don’t panic.

  Tavalin panicked. Off he ran at full gallop down the beach the way they had come.

  Someone from the bonfire congregation stood and yelled, “Hey you! Stop!”

  There was nothing for Jeremy to do but divulge himself and follow. He sprang from his hiding place, trying as best he could to keep his face diverted from the fire’s glare and the prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was for Monika to recognize him.

  He and Tavalin sprinted down the beach in record time, the panic-induced adrenaline shot as effective as any synthetic, performance-enhancing drug. At the point where the sliver of beach merged into the woods, Jeremy paused and stole a look back. Three or four of Monika’s minions were standing, hands on hips, halfway down the beach, apparently having given only token chase. Tavalin neither paused nor spoke, but continued his pell-mell flight, crashing noisily into the thick underbrush.

  As Jeremy followed his friend into the thicket, a thousand questions cascaded through his mind. Why clandestine meetings in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night? What were these things Monika spoke of: the quickening, the supernatural, big things coming down? What is Claire’s Alternative Way? What was this thing she was looking for, this so-called Source?

  And what to make of the children he saw?

  The answers quivered forebodingly, like agitated wasps ready to drop from their nest to deliver their stinging revelations.

  At some point Jeremy was able to catch up with his spooked friend and persuade him to slow down. The greater danger came not from those they had left behind at the beach but rather from a collision with an unseen tree or a tumble into a hidden gully.

  When Tavalin finally spoke, he delivered what might have been the understatement of the year. “Well, that was interesting,” he said.

  Jeremy laughed. “You could say that.”

  “Could you hear what that girl was saying?” asked Tavalin.

  “Just a little,” replied Jeremy. “What I did hear didn’t make much sense.”

  Jeremy waited to see if Tavalin would mention the weirdest part of the whole experience – the barefooted children and the old woman that everyone else ignored.

  When Tavalin didn’t right away say, Jeremy asked, “What could you see?”

  “I saw the same thing you did,” Tavalin replied, “people having a party on the beach.”

  “How many would you say there were?” asked Jeremy, still beating around the bush.

  “I don’t know, ten or twelve.”

  “And you didn’t see anybody or anything else come up?” asked Jeremy.

  “No,” replied Tavalin. “Did you?”

  “I thought I heard something in the bushes, that’s all.”

  With less mud and fewer mosquitoes, the inland route was slightly less unpleasant than had been the shoreline approach, but the forest offered no landmarks to guide them back to the car. When they emerged onto Sticks River Road, they found themselves to be a good half-mile from where Jeremy’s car was parked but were, nonetheless, relieved that they were finally out of the woods.

  Jeremy felt exposed in the openness of the roadway and more than a little worried that Monika’s mob might come looking for the two party-crashers. Certainly they would have a good idea where to look since there was only one way in or out – Sticks River Road. Repeatedly, Jeremy turned to check for any vehicles that might be approaching from behind, imagining he heard the soft purr of a car engine or glimpsed the flash of approaching headlights. Despite his paranoia, not a soul passed their way and, in due time, they arrived back at Sticks River Landing.

  They surveyed their bodily damage under the interior dome light of Jeremy’s car. Mud, sweat, scratches, and ripped clothing were standard issue. Pimply splotches dotted Tavalin’s face due to a mild allergic reaction to several mosquito bites. Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You know,” Tavalin began, “I was perfectly content back at my apartment –comfortable, clean and safe.” Tavalin strained to remain straight-faced in spite of his gripes. “Now look at me: I’m muddy, bloody, tired, I itch all over, my clothes are torn, my head hurts and there’s grit in my mouth. And, I’m still expecting some hal
f-crazed, techno-music maniac to jump out of the woods and kill us both. So please tell me, Jeremy, why? Why me? Is your sole purpose in life to make my life miserable?”

  “Come on, Tavalin. I just gave you an adventure you will never forget. We’ll be a hundred years old and still talking about tonight.”

  “At this rate, we might not live to see graduation. Now, for the last time, will you please take me home?”

  Tavalin did manage to extract a measure of revenge via the mud smudged on the passenger side seat, floorboard, door, dash, windshield, and sunroof and on the knobs of Jeremy’s expensive stereo receiver.

  The last thing Jeremy did before retiring for the night was look up an unfamiliar word Monika had used. There was no listing in an online dictionary for the word quickening, but the third definition listed for quicken seemed to fit: to begin a period of development; come to life.

  Chapter 19

  Friday, November 21

  Not surprisingly, Tavalin did not make it to their eight a.m. organic chemistry class. Jeremy attended, although he had only managed three hours of sleep and was exhausted. As the professor droned on, Jeremy slouched in his chair, using the wall behind his back-row seat as a head rest. He fought mightily to hold open his eyelids over the duration of the lecture and certainly would have lost that battle except for thinking about the excursion of a few hours ago.

  Jeremy was not altogether surprised to find that, more than ever, he wanted to see Monika again. Though her spiel had certainly been strange and largely indecipherable, she mentioned nothing of a negative connotation. Like the others at the bonfire, he wanted to know what it was Monika spoke of. What great event was on the horizon?

  Even more intriguing, if he heard correctly, was Monika’s reference to Claire’s Alternative Way. Several questions sprang to mind: Is this Claire the Claire Wales of hippie queen fame? If so, what is Monika’s connection to Claire and to this great thing coming? What of the coincidence of Monika’s and my own common interest in the hippie queen?