Earthshaker

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  I shrugged and nodded and chewed my spaghetti.

  Laurel's frown deepened. "And you don't remember anything that happened before that? Anything from your childhood?"

  "No." I knew it was strange, and I had for most of my life. I'd thought about it many times, usually after seeing someone's baby pictures or hearing people reminisce about being kids.

  The fact was, I had no memory of my youth. I had no record of it, either. Guess I'd always figured it was some kind of oread nymph amnesia or curse or something.

  "Whose car did you wreck?" said Laurel.

  "Duke's," I said. "He was in the car with me."

  "So Duke has always been around?"

  "Yeah." I started twirling more spaghetti. "He's always been there for me."

  "Has he ever told you about what happened before?" said Laurel. "Has he ever told you about your childhood?"

  "No." I kept twirling spaghetti.

  "Would you like to know more?" said Laurel. "I can do a reading."

  "What kind of reading?" I said.

  "I can touch your mind." Laurel folded her hands on the table, arms bracketing the plate of spaghetti in front of her. "Get a sense of who you are. Impressions of your life."

  The way she described it reminded me of how I could "read" rocks and dirt and minerals with a touch. Sounded harmless enough, but I was hesitant. Did I really want this virtual stranger rummaging around in my head?

  "Maybe some other time." I put down my fork with the spool of spaghetti I'd spun onto it. "It's been a long day."

  "I won't hurt you," said Laurel. "And it goes without saying, whatever I see stays between us."

  She seemed sincere, but who knew if I could trust her? I'd already glimpsed how immense her mind was; I was pretty sure she could hurt me bad if she wanted. "Let's eat dinner and hit the hay," I said. "Early start tomorrow."

  Laurel leaned forward. "But don't you want to know? Aren't you curious about your life?"

  I shrugged. "Not so much these days."

  "I doubt you just popped into existence behind the wheel of Duke's car." Laurel moved her hands toward me across the table. "Don't you wonder what happened before that?"

  "I might be better off not knowing." I leaned back, thinking about getting up and going away. My dark mood nibbled at the edge of me like a rat, building up the courage to gobble me whole.

  "Or you might be better off knowing," said Laurel. "Isn't it worth the risk?"

  "I'm not hungry anymore." I got up from the table. "I'm going to bed. Feel free to watch TV or whatever." Even as I walked away, I knew why I was doing it. Knew I was afraid. Whatever lurked in my past, it must have been pretty awful for me to block it out completely. For me to block out how many years? Ten? Fifteen? I didn't even know how old I was.

  And then there were my moods. The monstrous melancholy that swamped me every time I felt good for five minutes. What if all that was an echo of some repressed memory...too huge and terrible it overshadowed everything though the memories themselves were repressed? Damn right I was scared.

  But I also couldn't help wondering if she might be right. If there might be a way to make the shadows go away. Maybe I'd met Laurel for reasons beyond solving Aggie's murder.

  I carried my plate of spaghetti to the kitchen and dumped it in the sink. When I turned around, Laurel was standing in the doorway. "Please." The look on her face was dead serious. "Let me try."

  I blew out my breath in frustration. Should've asked Briar to let her stay at his place...except that would've bothered me, too.

  Laurel took a step toward me. "If something makes you uncomfortable, tell me to stop, and we're done. Okay? Or just push me away."

  "I can't deal with this right now," I said. "My best friend's funeral was this morning, remember?"

  "All right, okay." Laurel put her hands up and backed off. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just..." She shrugged. "You remind me of somebody. You know that."

  "Who?" I said. "Who do I remind you of?"

  "Someone who disappeared a long time ago," said Laurel. "A friend. A treasured friend. I keep wondering..." She locked eyes with me. "Could you be her?"

  "I see." I leaned against the counter and folded my arms over my chest. "So this 'reading' you want to do. It isn't really for my benefit."

  "Look," said Laurel. "In many ways, she was my Aggie...and I thought she was gone forever. Wouldn't you want to know, if our positions were reversed?"

  Just like that, she had me. Didn't mean I had to like it. "Maybe I wouldn't, if you were always such a pain in the ass." I pushed away from the counter and raked my fingers through my hair. "All right, all right. Just go easy."

  "Thank you." Laurel stepped forward and placed her palm against my forehead like she was feeling my temperature. "Thank you so much, Gaia."

  "Yeah, yeah." I rolled my eyes. "Glad I made all that spaghetti."

  Laurel closed her violet eyes and bowed her head. "Here we go."

  I felt nothing but impatience for a long moment. Just wanted to crawl under the covers and be left alone till my sinking feelings let up.

  Then, I noticed a tingling in my forehead, like a mild case of pins and needles. It spread out from there, moving to the sides and back of my head, then down to the base of my neck. I frowned, wondering if the tingling was normal; I was still suspicious, especially now that I'd opened myself up to her.

  My head felt warm, then hot. I only really started to worry, though, when my vision went black.

  "Laurel?" Suddenly, I was totally blind. Couldn't even see a glimmer of light. This didn't strike me as a positive development. "I can't see!"

  Laurel didn't answer. Just kept her palm pressed to my forehead. Kept making my head tingle and heat up...and throb. With each fresh pulse, I felt pressure building, felt twinges of pain like the leading edge of a colossal migraine.

  "Laurel!" I said. "Stop! It hurts!"

  Still, Laurel said nothing. And the tingling and heat and pain continued to build.

  I reached up and grabbed her arm, ready to pull her hand away from my forehead. That was when the flashes started.

  I saw them with my mind's eye, a rapid-fire barrage of images flickering past in a blur. All that registered was a general impression of light and color and motion and sound, a sense that scenes were hurtling past like cars on a bullet train, too fast to comprehend.

  And too fast to bear. My head pounded and swirled and felt like it was going to explode. I couldn't sift through the flood of input, but it was still rushing straight into the pathways of my brain, drowning them in oceans of data.

  I cried out. Tried and failed to tear Laurel's hand from my forehead. It was like she was surgically attached.

  Then, suddenly, images began to leap out of the storm. Lingering just barely long enough for me to grasp them.

  Pyramids gleaming bone-white in the desert sun. A sailing ship in a raging torrent, bucking waves as high as mountains. Three dark-skinned children running for their lives from a lion. A horse-drawn wagon crossing an endless prairie. Eskimos butchering a whale on a glittering ice floe. Japanese lanterns and wind chimes shivering in moonlit gardens. Ancient soldiers riding elephants through a mountain pass. Vast crowds cheering under red flags adorned with the yellow hammer and sickle. A dog chasing a rabbit across a green lawn. A naked man with blond hair reclining by a blazing fireplace. A man I knew.

  Just as I realized I recognized him, he was gone. I reached back, trying to hold on to that one vision, but the flood of images continued to pour forward. Started speeding up again, whipping by so fast I couldn't single them out anymore. Nothing but a fathomless blur of speed and barely discerned sensation.

  The speed rose to a blistering clip, making my head spin, making me nauseous...and then it ended. Suddenly, the flickering storm of visions stopped dead, leaving only darkness in my mind's eye. Silence and stillness and emptiness.

  I felt her hand leave my forehead. "Laurel?" Blindly, I reached for her, grasping at thin air. Then, with a f
lash of light and color so strong it hurt, my sight burst back to life. Blinking and squinting, I saw Laurel across the kitchen, bent over with her hands on her knees. Heaving from the strain of what she'd just done.

  I went to her. "Are you all right?"

  When she looked up, I saw her face was pale and soaked with sweat. "Y-yes." She was gasping for breath like she'd just run a marathon. "N-need to...sit down."

  "Come on." I took her arm and led her to the couch in the living room.

  She collapsed on it. Unselfconsciously threw herself flat on her back. "Guess I...should've ...expected that."

  "Expected what?" I frowned down at her.

  "You have so much inside," said Laurel. "Too much to handle."

  "I do?" I still wasn't sure what it all meant. The visions I'd glimpsed with my mind's eye; did they even belong to me?

  "Maybe that's why you've blocked it out," said Laurel. "Because there's just too much to stand."

  I dropped to my knees beside her. Too caught up in what was happening to remember my miserable mood. "Am I her? Am I your friend?"

  "I thought so. Now I'm not so sure." Laurel wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. "There's something different about you. Not at all like her."

  I sat back on my heels. "Who was she? Tell me about her." I touched her shoulder. "Maybe it'll trigger something. Maybe I can help you figure this out."

  Laurel shook her head. "Not yet. Not until I know more."

  "But why?" I said. "Why not tell me?"

  Laurel took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. "There must have been a reason she disappeared. It could put us all in danger if we're not careful."

  "And you have no idea what that reason could have been?" I said.

  "It was mostly a blur," said Laurel. "Do you?"

  "No." I shook my head and sighed. "Maybe it'll come to me."

  "We can try again," said Laurel. "With another reading. But not tonight." She smiled weakly.

  I smiled back at her. "No, not tonight."

  Laurel reached up and held my hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out somehow."

  I thought of the blond man who kept reappearing in my visions. The one I'd been making love to; the one who'd called me a betrayer and had said he'd kill me. "I hope you're right."

  "I hope you are her, Gaia," said Laurel. "I hope you're my long-lost friend."

  "Thanks," I said.

  "Because if you're not," said Laurel, "I don't know what you are."

  *****

  Chapter 18

  Next morning, I woke up way too damned soon after a shitty so-called night's sleep. Between worrying about finding Aggie's killer and obsessing about my secret past, I don't think I put together more than fifteen minutes of sleep at a time. So much for going into the big day well-rested.

  Did I mention Laurel's snoring? She sounded like a wart hog snorting up turnips in a mud bog, all night long—a room and a door away, and she might as well have been lying right next to me. So much for the grace and tranquility of the Allegheny Mountains. At least she got her beauty sleep.

  I thought about going for a run to snap myself out of it, but the boys showed up before I got my sneakers on. Briar and Owen rang the doorbell at precisely 5:55 A.M. They looked so annoyingly refreshed, I wanted to kick their asses...but I forgave them because they brought coffee. And doughnuts.

  "Breakfast!" Laurel bounced off the couch the second the food hit the apartment. Even in my borrowed blue flannel pajamas, she looked totally pulled together—eyes twinkling, complexion smooth and creamy, flowing brown hair barely mussed. It was like she'd just finished fixing her hair and makeup instead of sleeping on a couch for nine hours. Which kind of made me hate her. Made me think maybe I didn't want to be her long-lost best friend after all.

  But I showed her. Just as she was grabbing for the box of doughnuts in Briar's hands, I snatched it away. "Wait." I grabbed a coffee from the tray Owen was carrying and marched toward the kitchen like a monster. She would not get first pick of the doughnuts after keeping me up all fucking night.

  I heard Laurel talking behind me. "Is she always like this in the morning?"

  "Actually," said Briar, "she's usually a morning person."

  "Usually," I said from the kitchen as I tore open the box of doughnuts and inhaled a chocolate honey-glazed like it was a breath of air.

  *****

  We drove my Highlander to Clearfield County. It made sense to take something roomier than Briar's cruiser. After all, there were four of us.

  On the drive up, I was in a bad mood and didn't say much. I wished everyone else would keep it down, too, but Briar kept asking questions about Landkind.

  "You have some kind of society, right?" He turned his head to one side and spoke over his shoulder to the Landkind in the back seat. "I mean, you all knew each other pretty well back at Doc Yough's."

  "The other fellas and I are all part of Laurel's range," said Owen. "It's not like that with everybody."

  "But we do have a society," said Laurel. "We have rules and customs and traditions. We have culture and history."

  "In fact," said Owen, "we have the oldest surviving society in the world. We've outlasted every human civilization that's come along."

  "Amazing," said Briar. He had such a crush on Landkind, I could tell. It figured, the ol' rockhound. "What's the secret of your staying power?"

  "Might be because we're steadier," said Owen. "More patient than humanity. We see the big picture more clearly." He chuckled. "After all, we're tied to the land. We're part of the world. We might look like human beings, but deep down, we're very different."

  "So why do you have human sides at all?" said Briar. "What's the purpose?"

  "We think it's to help strike a balance," said Owen. "Between humanity and geology."

  "Though we don't really know for sure why we're here," said Laurel. "In that, we're much like you."

  "But we do try to strike that balance," said Owen. "We try to keep humanity from destroying itself and us along with it."

  Briar thought for a moment. "Have you ever thought of coming out of the closet?"

  "What do you mean?" said Laurel.

  "Maybe you could work directly with humans," said Briar, "using your special abilities and insight out in the open."

  Owen laughed. "Didn't we try that already, a long time ago?"

  "It didn't work out," said Laurel. "This is 'out in the open' enough for us. Working with a handful of humans like you when we need to."

  "Separation of church and state is the way to go," said Owen. "Or should I say church and slate?"

  "Well, if you ever change your mind, I could set you up with a liaison," said Briar. "Someone who knows a lot about geology and is sympathetic to your cause."

  I couldn't help shooting him a look at that one. "Geez, Briar." I said it under my breath. "Why don't you just marry them if you love them so much?"

  Briar snorted. "You should talk."

  "We appreciate the offer." Laurel reached up and touched Briar's shoulder. "We'll keep it in mind."

  Suddenly, my mood was fifty times worse. I definitely detected a flirty tone, and I did not appreciate it. Steam was coming out of my ears.

  And then I caught myself and wondered what the hell was that all about? Since when was I jealous of someone coming on to Dale Briar? Great guy, no doubt about it, and we'd been friends for what? Three years? Five? But I had zero romantic interest in him.

  He was a friend and confidant, of course. And a partner in the field for the past two years or so. Come to think of it, we did have some fun together. Maybe we had a moment here and there. But did I want to date him? Hell no! I didn't date anyone.

  And no, it wasn't on my mind more than usual since those visions of having sex with that blond guy.

  I couldn't help noticing, however, when Briar reached up and patted Laurel's hand on his shoulder.

  Which was when I suddenly gave the steering wheel a jerk, jolting the Highlander
to one side. Off went the hand from Briar's shoulder.

  I swung the Highlander back on course and blew out my breath. "Sorry about that, folks! Major pothole back there."

  I didn't bother to think any more about why I'd done it...but I did check my rear view mirror. Spotted Laurel's eyes looking back at me, calm and knowing and thoughtful. I felt like she could see right through me.

  *****

  Chapter 19

  Owen led the way to Cousin Canyon. He said he knew his way around.

  I parked along the road near a trailhead, and the four of us walked in. The woods around us were lush with green summer foliage, the trees alive with the cries of birds. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the brown dirt of the trail.

  "I've spent a lot of time up here," said Owen. "Fishing and hiking. Camping, too. Hell of a pretty place." He let his hand drift over the bark of a tree and sighed. "What a shame."

  I looked around, trying to figure out what he meant about it being a shame. So far, everything looked perfectly healthy and normal.

  "It'll never be the same," said Owen. "I can never come back here."

  Laurel, who'd been walking behind him, moved up and put an arm around his shoulders. Said something to him, I couldn't hear what—and he nodded and smiled sadly at her.

  *****

  It took us about twenty minutes to hike to the rim of the canyon. Emerging from the treeline, we stood at an overlook and gazed down at the beautiful view spread out before us.

  The rim on which we stood fell away down a steep wall studded with boulders and brush. Midway down, the angle of the wall became less steep, and dense trees took over—pine, spruce, and cedar. Far below, leafier varieties of trees lined the canyon floor, split in a winding seam down the middle by a skinny green snake of a river. Two hawks swung in lazy loops against a cloudless sky, banking and gliding along the thermal drafts rising up from below.