Stormer’s Pass: Aidos Trilogy: Book 1

by Benjamin Laskin

  “I want to thank you again, Max, for all your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Don’t mention it. It was fun.”

  Hardy chuckled. “We did have some laughs, didn’t we? How’s your back?”

  “My back is fine, but I think you should consider getting a new ladder.”

  “Where did you learn to fall like that?” Hardy asked.

  “The ground and I have an understanding. Three years of Steve tackling me a hundred times a week in football practice might have something to do with it. I’m horizontally challenged. Knock me down, I bounce right back up.”

  Hardy laughed. “Maybe you should consider becoming a stunt man.”

  The honk of a horn announced Ms. Winters’ arrival at the front of the cabin. Max hurried over to open the car door for the old librarian. She stuffed a bag of groceries into his arms.

  “Can you stay for dinner, Max?” Mr. Thoreson asked, strolling up and relieving him of the bag.

  “Thanks, but I have to get going.” He helped Ms. Winters out of her car. “How ya doin’, grandma?”

  “Oh, Max, did you hear? It’s awful.”

  “Hear what?”

  “Coach Dubbs. He’s dead!”

  “What?”

  “Randy found him in the boys locker room. He hanged himself. There was a note.”

  “Jeezus,” Max said. “How’s Randy?”

  “Shaken up as you might imagine,” she said, shaken herself. “The whole town is. And they’re blaming you.”

  “Max?” Mr. Thoreson said. “That’s ridiculous. You just said it was suicide.”

  “They’re blaming his suicide on Max, because he quit the football team. The town thinks he forced the others to quit with him.”

  Mr. Thoreson said, “If that’s not the stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

  “What did Kohl say?” Max asked.

  “He’s the one who is saying it. He said he had you, Coach Dubbs, and some of the team in his office, and that he tried talking sense into you, but that you were uncompromising, and even resorted to violence. His secretary, Mrs. Jones, said she saw you attack him. Did you, Max?”

  “It was more like self-defense.”

  “She said you tried to break his arm.”

  “If I had tried to break his arm, I would have.”

  “He has a splint on his finger.”

  “Did he say anything about firing the coach?” Max asked.

  “He said he had resigned of his own free will.”

  “He had no free will left,” Max said. “And we all witnessed Kohl fire him.”

  “Kohl had the papers in his hand,” Ms. Winters said, “and Mrs. Jones saw the coach come in and sign them. The suicide note didn’t mention anything about being fired, only that you had destroyed his dream.”

  “Well, Max,” Mr. Thoreson said, only half joking, “if you need a place to hide out you can always stay here.”

  “The way people are talking he just might have to,” Ms. Winters said. “A lot of the kids’ parents are demanding his expulsion. They say their own kids have been acting very strangely lately and that he’s a bad influence on them.”

  Max shook his head in disbelief. “I had better get home before someone starts throwing rocks through my windows and scares the girls.”

  He went into the house to grab his jacket. When he returned, Hardy and Virginia were talking about Aidos.

  “You said three weeks at the most,” Ms. Winters said. “It’s been a month. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “But how will you find her?” Ms. Winters said, on the brink of tears. “Look at those woods. They go on forever. She could be anywhere.”

  “I’ll find her,” he said.

  “Call the National Guard or somebody,” she pleaded.

  “No, I’ll find her on my own.”

  Max said, “I’ll go with you.”

  “Yes, Max,” Ms. Winters said, “go with him.”

  “What about school?” Mr. Thoreson said.

  “What about it?”

  Hardy nodded. “Right. Can you be here tomorrow morning?”

  “Is sunup good enough for you?”

  “I’ll prepare everything we need.”

  “What about Beowulf?” Max asked.

  “We’ll take him with us.”

  “Where is he anyway?” Ms. Winters asked.

  Hardy pointed across the meadow to the edge of the woods. “He’s hardly moved since she left.”

  The sight of the lonesome dog staring into the woods where Aidos was last seen summed up the dread and sadness they all felt.

  “The ever-faithful dog,” Hardy said.

  “Poor thing,” Ms. Winters moaned.

  Max headed over to Beowulf. The dog lay outstretched, his large head resting on his two front paws like a forlorn and lugubrious sphinx.

  Ms. Winters turned to Mr. Thoreson, her eyes swimming in grief. “How did things ever get so messy?” Her hoarse voice sounded like cracking ice. “Everything I love and cherish is slipping away…” She held out her thin, bony hands and looked at them as if she could actually see the world crumble between the wedges of her fingers. “Where is it all going? You are losing Camelot and I’m losing my library. Max is in trouble and Aidos is gone. And I don’t even know if you’ll be around a year from now, and this town is changing so fast, and I hate it. I just hate it. I was happy. For a minute, I was happy…”

  Hardy wrapped his arm around the old woman. They looked on as Max sat down in front of Beowulf and set the dog’s big furry head on his lap and stroked him behind the ears. A pronounced hush fell over the meadow as a dreary, moist blanket of darkness rolled in. A gentle sprinkle turned to drizzle, and hard rain was in the offing.

  Hardy and Ms. Winters turned to enter the house. The screen door creaked open. Beowulf scrambled to his feet, his ears perked in attention. Out of the darkness came a whoosh, followed by a dull, twanging thud. Startled, Hardy and Ms. Winters leaped back from the doorway. The screen slammed shut.

  Beowulf danced in anxious circles, yapping wildly. He started for the woods and then to the house, back to the woods, and again towards the house. Max wheeled and peered into the dark woods, and then back at the cabin. He dashed for the cabin but Mr. Thoreson’s soul-wrenching cry stopped him in his tracks.

  “Aidos!” Hardy shouted, rushing into the middle of the open meadow. “A-i-d-o-s!” He turned desperately in every direction. “Aidos!”

  Max spun and looked back towards the woods. Beowulf was gone. Max sprinted into the forest’s edge. Soon he was deep into the woods, lost in a tangled maze of shrubs and pine. He stopped to listen and heard a rustling ahead. He pursued.

  It was night in the woods, and drizzle turned to a downpour. Max ran deeper and deeper into the forest. He swatted madly at the branches in his way, stumbled and tripped. He wasn’t sure whether he was looking for Aidos or Beowulf. Out of breath, he stopped and wiped at his forehead. He tried to listen over the noise of his own heart and heaving chest, but all he could make out was the patter of raindrops. He ran and ran calling out their names. He stopped to listen again. He walked a few hopeless steps and then halted. He wiped at his forehead and felt woozy. It was no use. Slowly his wits returned to him like scattered bees to a hive. He looked dumbly and blindly around and wiped at his forehead again.

  “Beowulf!” he called out. “Here boy! Beowulf!” He waited.

  Nothing.

  Self-conscious and feeling almost silly, he said, “Aidos? Is it you?”

  Max tramped ahead a few more steps, tripped over the roots of a large pine tree, stumbled, and smacked his head hard on the side of a tree. He steadied himself and again wiped at his forehead. He leaned his back against the tree and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nostrils. The air was pitch thick and sweet with the smell of wet pine and juniper.

  He suddenly felt very weary, as if he could stay leaning against that pine forever and not mis
s the world at all. Queerly, sleep not only seemed like an overpoweringly good idea; it seemed like the gentlest and most reassuring of answers.

  A tickling sensation about his nose interrupted his dreamy meditation. He twitched his nose, but the tickle didn’t go away. He gave it a lazy swipe with his hand. Vaguely curious, he looked at his fingers. He wiped again, this time at the whole right side of his face and above his brow, which was tender to the touch. He licked his fingers and laughed. “Wow,” he said. “Blood.”

  He didn’t care. The gash above his eye was something alien. The blood that oozed copiously from the torn flesh was not his own, but belonged to some creature who only called himself Max.

  He found the train of thought amusing. He slipped slowly to the forest floor. “I bet I could sleep here,” he said to no one. He patted the tree like an old pal. “You’ll keep me dry, won’t you big guy?” Max reclined fully into the tree, head thrown back, his eyes shut. He smiled, absently pleased. He lapped at the blood which continued to trickle plentifully past the corner of his mouth.

  …He floated down a long, winding river on a cushion of clouds; his face lunar side up, his toes wiggling in the air, streaming to his private delta. All was calm and peaceful. Birds soared high up in the air between the canyon walls, the current gently sweeping him away. The moon shone full and brilliant through the crystalline blue of night, dragging wisps of clouds behind it.

  As he watched, the moon began to morph. The wispy clouds lengthened and changed from white to smoky to black. The luminescent orb shimmied and grew alive. He now found himself staring into the benign, glowing face of Aidos. Speechless, he gazed at her radiant beauty. The girl’s sympathetic smile filled him with succor and delight.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hello, Max.”

  “You’re back.”

  “No, I can’t stay.”

  “Whattaya mean?”

  “I have things to work out yet, Max. But you, you must go home now.”

  “Oh,” he groaned. “This is better than home. I just want to float and dream you forever…”

  She kissed Max on the lips and then pulled away. She was no longer just a face, but a whole being kneeling beside him.

  “You came here to be worked upon, Max,” she said. “You have chosen a great path, and although it is often lonely and hard, you are not alone. Here—” She removed the silver band from her finger and ran a shoelace through it. She put it around Max’s neck. “There are two things within you that you must strive to know,” she continued. “One you create; the other you discover. As you weave, the pattern emerges. As you chisel, the sculpture takes its form. You mustn’t give up.”

  “I see,” Max sighed. “What a pain in the ass.”

  Aidos smiled and kissed him again. Max made a move to kiss her back and felt a tongue lap across his lips. He opened his good eye and lurched back in surprise. “What the—!”

  He spat and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Oh, man.” He looked around to orientate himself. Everything was dark, wet and strangely very real. He remembered something and clutched at his chest. He buried his hand into his soggy shirt and felt around but came up empty-handed. “Too weird…” Max wiped his forehead on his sleeve and yelped in pain. “Come here, you,” he said. “It’s all your fault, you crazy pooch.”

  Beowulf plowed into Max with playful affection, yipping and yapping. He pinned Max to the ground. They rolled and tussled, Max yapping back tit for tat. He laughed, coughed, and winced in pain.

  “What’s this?” he said. He buried his fingers into the dog’s thick, wet pelt and retrieved a shoelace. From it dangled Aidos’ silver ring. “No way…” He shoved the big dog off his lap and clambered to his feet. “Come on, Beowulf. Home, Beowulf. Show Max home.”

  When Max returned to the cabin, he found Mr. Thoreson escorting Virginia to her car.

  “Max!” Mr. Thoreson shouted. “I thought you went home. What have you—”

  “Max!” Ms. Winters shrieked as he entered into the porch light. “My God, you’re a bloody mess!”

  “I am?”

  “Look at you…” She gasped. “Your eye!”

  “I must have run into a branch chasing after Beowulf.”

  “My boy,” she commanded, “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. You need stitches. Lots of them.” She withdrew a folded handkerchief from her pocket and told Max to hold it against his gash.

  Mr. Thoreson said, “You’ve been gone three hours, Max.”

  “Really?” He chuckled.

  Ms. Winters said, “He’s delirious. I must get him to a doctor. Come on…”

  “Okay, okay.” Max turned to Mr. Thoreson. “I’ll be back before sunup. Don’t dare leave without me.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Mr. Thoreson said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Mr. Thoreson turned and walked back towards the door of the cabin. A few inches from the hinge, stuck in the wall, was an arrow. He yanked it out and showed it to Max.

  “It’s Aidos’,” he said. He reached into his shirt pocket. “She attached this to it.” He unfolded the note and handed it to Max.

  Dad,

  I’m not ready to come home yet. I still have much to think about and to do. Please don’t worry, and please don’t come looking for me. I am not telling you this in person because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from you again. I miss you and love you, but I am determined to complete fully what you and mother started. But I need more time. Give my love to Virginia and Max and Beowulf, and to all the Olympians.

  Love, Aidos

  “I’m telling you it’s crazy,” Ms. Winters said. “She’s talking about spending another month or more out there. It’s absolutely mad. It’ll be winter soon and she only left with a few things on her back.”

  Max said, “I think she has been preparing for this for a long time.”

  “Come on,” Ms. Winters ordered. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. You’re a hideous mess.”

  “If you change your mind, Professor, you know you can count on me.”

  “Of course. Thanks, Max.”

  “Let’s go, grandma,” Max said, “I’ll drive.”

  “The heck you will, you one-eyed punk. Get in before I crack you one…”

  42

  Rip

  Mayor Fitch, a red flag in his hand, stood atop a bulldozer and boomed through his megaphone, “And so, good citizens of Pinecrest, the momentous day has arrived! As always, your wish is my command. Therefore, I want you all to raise your voices in unison and give me the word that will signal a new era of pride and prosperity for the fine, deserving people of Pinecrest!”

  The mayor waved the flag over his head. Five hundred hooting and whistling townspeople cheered. Stationed among the woods, donned in orange fluorescent vests, stood a dozen chainsaw-wielding men. They waited for their signal.

  “Now,” the mayor continued, “when I say ‘Let her,’ you say, ‘rip!’”

  The crowd whistled some more.

  “Are…you…ready?” the mayor shouted.

  “Ready!” Pinecrest hollered back.

  “Okay, let her…” The mayor brought the flag slicing downward.

  “Rip!” cried Pinecrest.

  A roar of buzz saws filled the air. The people cheered and a thousand balloons floated up to heaven.

  “Did you hear that?” Max shouted over the racket.

  “I heard it,” Mr. Brodie grumbled. “The sound of death.”

  “No,” Max said. “A cry of an eagle.”

  “There hasn’t been an eagle around here for thirty years,” Mr. Brodie said, skeptical.

  “There it is again!” Max said.

  “I can’t hear anything over those damn buzz saws.”

  “Me neither,” Steve said.

  “Dad,” Regina said, tugging on her father’s coat pocket for his attention. “Look—” She pointed up at the sky.

  “By God, it is an eagle.”


  “It’s beautiful,” Regina said.

  “It’s doomed,” Mr. Brodie said. “This whole mountain is doomed. The ungrateful sons of bitches. Sons of bitches!” he hollered, shaking his fist in the air. They stood at the edge of the crowd, and with the roar of the saws none of the townspeople heard him.

  “Tell me you didn’t hear it that time,” Max said.

  The others exchanged glances and shook their heads.

  “Really?” Max said, bewildered. He watched the eagle circle high above and fidgeted at his chest in discomfort. He reached into his shirt and yanked out the ring he was wearing around his neck.

  “What’s that?” Regina asked, taking the ring in her hand to examine it. “It’s really warm.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Max said.

  “Weird,” Regina said, dropping it back onto his chest.

  Steve said, “Let me see.”

  “Where did you get it?” Regina asked.

  “Aidos gave it to me…sort of.”

  A big cheer went up as the first tree smashed to the ground—a tree that was already two-hundred years tall when the first settlers founded Pinecrest.

  “Come on you kids,” Jason Brodie growled, disgusted. “Let’s get out of here. I’m inviting you over for chili. I’ve seen enough.”

  The group of friends piled into the back of Mr. Brodie’s pickup. He peeled off toward the main highway, his tires spewing gravel behind him. The youths sat with their backs to the cab to block the cold November wind and watched the tail of dust fan out in their wake.

  “Your dad is pretty pissed,” Steve remarked.

  “It’s this construction,” Regina said. “He hates it. When he first heard about the plans for Moonridge he hit the ceiling. He calls it Doomridge.”

  “There’s nothing more powerful than the briefcase,” Max said.

  The truck bounced off the dirt road and onto the highway.

  “What’s the matter, Regina?” Steve asked. “You look depressed.”

  “I feel so helpless. It’s our town too, you know? How come we don’t get a say in anything? Nobody cares what we think and there’s nothing we can do about it.”