Double Blind

by Hannah Alexander

  She passed her book to him, but he shook his head and slumped down farther in his chair.

  Tanya knew the teacher would let him get by with it, because he was an orphan now. But how long could this go on? He could read. Why wouldn’t he try? Before the teacher could say anything more, the bell rang. Jamey sat where he was while the others jumped up and rushed out.

  April slapped him hard on the head when she went by. “Stupid! Why did you have to be born?”

  Tanya saw the tears in his eyes, and she reached over and rubbed his arm. It felt hot. “It’s okay, Jamey.”

  He shook his head and looked up at the teacher, who was gathering papers from her desk.

  “I know it isn’t now, but it will be,” Tanya said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because Sheila Metcalf’s mother died when she lived here, and Sheila’s doing okay.”

  “Did she have a sister like April?”

  Tanya sighed. He had her there. “Maybe April will get nicer.”

  “She’s never been nice before. Why would she change?”

  “I don’t know. People change, I guess. Sometimes.”

  Jamey looked at her. “What’s it like living with Nurse Metcalf?”

  “It’s okay. I like her.”

  “You didn’t at first.”

  “The difference between April and me is that I can admit when I’m wrong.”

  Jamey gave a slight grin, but it didn’t last long.

  “Is everything else okay?” Tanya asked.

  He shrugged, then got up. “It has to be. I can’t be sick today. Or even this week.”

  “You can be sick if you’re sick. You don’t have a choice. Why don’t you go to Blaze and have him check you out? You don’t want to have to be doing push-ups and sit-ups when you’re trying not to puke.”

  “I’ll just have to tough it out.”

  “Okay, but first I have something for you.”

  Jamey turned back. He didn’t seem to know what to think about that. “The others are leaving. I’d better get—”

  “Don’t worry, this isn’t going to take a lot of time.”

  She reached up and touched the cross that rested against her chest, then fumbled with the clasp.

  “What are you doing? Giving me a girl’s necklace?”

  She held it out for him to see. “You know who gave this to me?”

  He shook his head. “I think I should be going.”

  Tanya ignored him. “Sheila Metcalf. And you know who gave it to her?”

  He frowned at her. She knew he never liked questions he didn’t know the answer to. “Betsy Two Horses, many years ago when Sheila was a little girl, younger than us.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Well, at first I thought it was because turquoise was supposed to scare off the evil spirits, but Sheila says it was to remind her that Jesus loved her, and she gave it to me to remind me of the same thing.”

  “But you don’t believe in Jesus.”

  “She says that doesn’t matter. But I’m giving it to you, anyway. I mean, you’re a Christian and all, so it should work on you better.”

  Jamey reached up and touched the cross. Golden strands bound the turquoise and connected with the gold chain. “It’s pretty.”

  Tanya laid the necklace on the desk and pushed it toward him. “You need it more than I do.”

  “What’ll I do with a girl’s necklace?”

  “You stick it in your pocket, and when you reach in and feel the cross, you’ll remember you’re not alone.”

  Jamey stared at the necklace. “Doc’s waiting.”

  “Doc won’t be mad at you. You can get away with anything right now. Just take the necklace.”

  “If anybody sees it, I’ll be laughed at.”

  Tanya wanted to smack him. How hard could it be just to accept the stupid gift? “It’s not for anyone else to see, it’s just for you. Take the necklace!”

  He stared at her for a minute.

  “Just keep it for me, okay? Every time you look at it, remember what it means. And if you decide you need someone to talk to, remember me.” She inched it toward him. “Go ahead, take it.”

  Jamey touched the chain, then picked it up and held it in his hand. “April can’t see this.”

  “Keep it hidden. I can’t believe I ever thought she was my friend. She’s mean.”

  “I hear her crying in her bed every night, when she’s at home.”

  “When isn’t she at home?”

  “She sneaks out a lot. When I caught her one night, she said she was looking for Mom and Dad’s spirits. I told her they’re in heaven, but she’s got this weird idea that they wouldn’t leave us here alone, and even if their spirits are evil now, it’s better than not having them at all.”

  “But it’s so stupid to go out like that.”

  “I know.” Jamey slid the necklace into the front pocket of his jeans. “Thanks, Tanya. If anybody sees it, I’ll say my girlfriend gave it to me to keep it safe.”

  Tanya sighed. “Whatever.” Giving gifts wasn’t as much fun as she’d thought it would be. “Just remember what it means.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A nother one comes tonight. Still so many to initiate, and so little time left. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to continue this. Suspicions have been raised, and authorities are searching for the shooter. So far I have them controlled, but I can’t know how much longer that will work.

  The blood. It’s always in the blood, the life of the person. I am so filled with tension that my skin tingles with it. But with this night could come great power, if only the child will respond well.

  The wood chips smoke. Thick clouds of it drift past me before finding the smoke hole in the center of the roof. I inhale, spreading out my arms to catch the blessing of the smoke on my skin. I breathe deeply, the tension increasing with every breath. I must be gentle with this one. Less is remembered when the pain is not so bad.

  A whisper of sound reaches me from outside. I stiffen. That will be Jamey. It is time. At the opening, I find the boy standing in the moonlight. His immature body, bare above the waist, glows with the film of perspiration of his run from the school.

  Jamey shows no surprise at my appearance. I have already planted in his mind the route here, the things to expect.

  “Are we ready?” The boy’s voice shakes.

  “Don’t be afraid.” I hold out a hand. Jamey takes it, and I relax. The boy trusts me or he wouldn’t have come out into the desert alone to find me. It’s all going to be okay.

  “What do I have to do?” he asks.

  “You need only do what I tell you and nothing more. You must understand the importance of these meetings. They will bring great power and riches.”

  “To you or me?” Jamey has the audacity to ask.

  Losing patience quickly, I take the boy’s arm and lead him inside, where a breeze thickens the smoke from the cedar wood. The fire’s glow lights the room. At the sight of my wolf-sculpted face, the boy catches his breath, his grip growing tighter.

  “What are you? A wolf?”

  “This is my identity tonight. Come to the altar.”

  He does not move. “What kind of altar is it?”

  “Mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I am not accustomed to such noncompliance. What is wrong with this child? “This is where we pay homage to the spirit that resides in me.” I reach for a section of peyote button beside the altar and hold it out for him. “Take this in your mouth.”

  Jamey’s head comes up, his dark eyes more alert than they have been in days. “What is it?”

  “It’s something that will help you in the ritual. Don’t worry, it’s safe. I take it myself.”

  “We have to do this?”

  Foolish child! “It’s not for you to question the ancient spirits that draw you!”

  “Ancient spirits? But—”

  “Only an expression, Jamey. This is a natural, time
-tested way to increase your endurance. You want that, don’t you? As a member of the track team you want to make Twin Mesas famous so Doc will be proud of you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we will continue.” What’s wrong with the boy tonight? Why is he so inquisitive and resistant?

  “Open your mouth.”

  “But Doc says—”

  “I know more than Doc knows. I am the one you must listen to and trust. Tomorrow you will be glad you did this.”

  The boy obeys at last. I place the piece of peyote on his tongue. “Chew and swallow. It is very bitter.”

  I watch Jamey’s face screw up.

  Patience. Mustn’t move too quickly. The drug will work, given time. I prepare my utensils. I will make this as painless as possible.

  Within moments, Jamey’s muscles relax. He sways ever so slightly.

  “The spirit is coming now.” My voice takes on the low, rhythmic tone of a chant. “The spirit will take us both in its grasp and suck us up, drink us dry, then fill us with power. Let your mind flow with the spirit that guides you.”

  I reach for another piece of a peyote button. “Open your mouth.”

  With a slightly dazed, reluctant glance at me, Jamey obeys. It’s almost time. Almost. But I must not take chances with this one.

  Soon his barricade of mental defenses will weaken.

  Jamey takes a deep breath and sways backward. I smile as I reach past him for my utensil, but then he tenses. His half-closed eyes open wide and his head comes up.

  “What…are you doing? What’s happening?” For a moment his gaze sharpens.

  “The spirit is ready,” I say as I ease the boy forward. “Study the flames and discover what the spirit of the wolf is telling you.”

  “Wolf? But the wolf is evil.”

  “The wolf is the most powerful spirit in our world. He is a spirit of darkness, but will come to you through the light of the fire. He will be your power. No need to fear him, if you obey.” As my voice drones on, I watch the drug working the boy’s mind.

  “You must never reject the spirit, because if you do, it will follow you, haunt you and take every chance to harm you and those you love. Accept the spirit, Jamey. It will fill your life. It will make you strong.”

  Jamey shakes his head.

  This is not working as it has before.

  Jamey backs away from me. “I want to go home.”

  “No!” Harsh from smoke, my voice grates even more deeply than the power of the spirit that controls me. “You have begun. You can never turn back.”

  “I’ll never listen to this spirit. Just let me—”

  “No! Look into the fire. Give me your hands.” I grab his clenched fist and his hand opens. In his palm is something golden and blue. Something familiar.

  It’s as if I’ve been dashed in a snow stream. I am staring at a turquoise-and-gold cross. Sheila Metcalf’s necklace.

  But this can’t be. Does she know about me? What other reason could she have for giving this necklace to Jamey on the night he is due to see me?

  I stumble backward. Jamey is protected by the enemy! I must trust that he has enough of the drug in his system to forget everything that has happened. He will wake up in the morning, at worst thinking he’s had a bad dream.

  “Who is the spirit that controls you?” I demand.

  Jamey says, “Jesus.”

  “Get out. Take your cross with you. You are an enemy of the spirit of the wolf!”

  Sheila lay on a hard table, with a bright light shining on her from somewhere above. How had she gotten here? What was happening?

  She heard chanting, and she tried to get up, but something held her down. Smoke filled the room and drifted upward and out through the smoke hole in the center of this hogan. She knew enough to realize that someone hadn’t built the fire right, or it wouldn’t be so smoky. Dumb people.

  The room blurred around her, and she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift. She could feel herself racing through the piñons like a jackrabbit or a coyote.

  The chanting grew louder. She kept her eyes closed. A woman’s soft voice reached her, and she opened her eyes again. Across the fire, through the smoke, there was a shadowy image. A woman stood beside a doorway, her features blurred, but Sheila could see long, light hair falling over a shoulder clothed in white.

  A sibilant chant, barely discernible from the wind, reached her. It sounded oddly familiar, yet like none of the Navajo words she knew. It sounded like someone singing backward, familiar Navajo words inverted in a discordant invocation that grew louder as her breathing quickened and her heartbeat pounded through her body.

  A deep, guttural voice—she could not tell whether male or female—throbbed through the room, with the steady pulse of some hovering force that filled the hogan and spilled out into darkness beyond.

  The voice wavered and fell silent, to be replaced by a deep growl.

  Fear paralyzed her. The smoke choked her. She gagged. Rough hands grabbed her as she retched.

  She turned toward the one who touched her, terror paralyzing her lungs. The face of the wolf leered at her, long fangs bared, eyes shooting flames of hatred at her, singeing her.

  She cried out, even though she knew no one would hear.

  The wolf whimpered, then spoke softly, gently, entreating.

  Sheila opened her eyes and saw a shaded room, lit by a lamp in another part of the apartment. Perspiration filmed her skin, soaking her hair and nightgown. Another dream.

  She saw Tanya leaning over her, eyelids still swollen with sleep, long black hair tangled.

  “Bad dream?” Tanya’s voice trembled as the sour breath of a long sleep wafted through the air.

  The brisk temperature chilled Sheila’s perspiring skin, waking her as if she had been doused in a winter lake. Relief flooded her as the dream vanished. She stared around her at the faint glow of the living room lamp, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. Be calm. Recover. It’s early Friday morning, and you’re safe in your apartment.

  “I’m sorry, Tanya.” She sat up, wiping at her forehead. “I hope I didn’t scare you too badly. Was I making a lot of noise?”

  Tanya nodded.

  “Maybe we need to get you some earplugs. Do I snore, too?”

  At last, Tanya’s face relaxed slightly. She shook her head. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Most times, the relief was so palpable when she awakened to find that it was only a dream that she felt instantly better. This time, there was a lingering apprehension that wouldn’t totally leave her.

  She took a deep breath and fought a spasm of chills. “It’s gone now. I’m sorry if I frightened you.” She noticed that Tanya’s eyelashes sparkled with tears.

  The girl nodded, then hugged Sheila, burying her head against Sheila’s sweat-dampened shoulder.

  “You know how, when you have a bad dream, you try to scream and you can’t?” Sheila asked. “I make some funny noises sometimes. My husband used to laugh about it.” She smoothed Tanya’s tousled hair.

  Tanya sat back, obviously curious, but with a residue of fear still lurking in her eyes. “Are you divorced?”

  “No, my husband died two years ago.”

  Tanya nodded. “People are always dying.”

  “I know it feels that way sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  Tanya nodded. “What do you dream?”

  Sheila hesitated. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t think of burdening Tanya with the truth, but since Tanya was so terrified of this evil being, and since Sheila recalled her own loneliness as a child, she decided to take a chance.

  “I dream about the wolf,” she told Tanya.

  A quick intake of breath.

  “I’m convinced now that my dreams are connected to my experiences here long ago,” Sheila said.

  “The wolf was here then, all those years ago,” Tanya said.

  Sheila nodded. “I learned to block the dreams from my mind almost as soon as I awoke from them.”


  She found herself wondering where she had acquired this ability to forget at will the things that most upset her. How long had she been practicing this? Decades?

  “Do you remember your dreams, Tanya?”

  Moving cautiously, as if to avoid stubbing her toe in the meager light, Tanya circled the bed and climbed in on the other side. She crossed her legs and leaned back against the headboard.

  Sheila’s interest quickened. Tanya was stalling. And she was obviously too upset to go back to the sofa to sleep alone.

  “Do you have nightmares?” Sheila asked softly.

  Tanya looked down at her hands. “Sometimes.” She reached down and drew the covers up to her chest, then pulled them around her shoulders.

  “Does the wolf follow you into your sleep at night?” Sheila asked.

  Tanya nodded and pressed her lips together.

  “I don’t remember having the dreams when I was a child.” Sheila settled back beside Tanya in the bed. “I don’t remember ever having them when we lived here, but there are many things I can’t remember about the last year or so that I was here.”

  Tanya darted a brief glance at her, betraying both hope and apprehension.

  Following Tanya’s example, Sheila covered up with the blanket. The air was chilly, and it felt safer beneath the blanket.

  “What was it like when you were here?” Tanya asked.

  “It hasn’t changed a lot. When did you first know the wolf was here?”

  Tanya hesitated, cleared her throat. “About a year ago.” She shifted beneath the blankets. “Let’s not talk about it. Not now. It’s too dark, and—” she darted a glance out the window into the night “—talking about him could call his attention to us.”

  A tiny pinprick of foreboding stabbed at Sheila once more. With her heartbeat, the feeling pulsed and grew. Blood pounded louder and louder in her ears. Memory pushed at the edge of her defenses.

  Tanya’s wide eyes searched the room, the doorway, the shadowed window.

  Sheila’s heartbeats increased, then the sounds separated, as if doing double time. For a moment, she thought she was actually identifying so closely with Tanya that she could hear both their hearts.

  Then the sounds changed. Running feet. Someone was running past outside.