Stormer’s Pass: Aidos Trilogy: Book 1

by Benjamin Laskin

  Ed pointed a slimy spoon at Max’s trench. He was almost afraid to ask. “What’s that for?”

  “You,” Max said. He lay down in the trench for a measurement.

  “Me?”

  Max sat up and smiled. “Yep.”

  Ed looked on warily as Max hacked a few inches deeper.

  “Aidos showed me this trick,” he said, digging out the loosened dirt with his hands. “She taught me a lot about getting on in the woods.”

  Max climbed out of the trench and walked over to the fire. He picked up a large, steaming rock with a saucepan, carried it to the ditch, and dropped it in. He continued the procedure until the bottom of the shallow grave was covered with rocks and red-hot coals, then he covered it up with dirt. He spread a tarp on top and laid a bed of pine boughs.

  “There,” he said, hands on hips. “That ought to keep you snugly warm for a while.”

  With great effort and more painful yelps from Ed, Max helped him over to his new resting spot. After insuring that everything Ed needed was within arm’s reach, Max waved goodbye and started away.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “To check on the professor.”

  “And leave me here?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “We have to get help.”

  “First things first,” Max said.

  “When will you be back?”

  “As soon as I can.”

  “Max,” Ed called out after him.

  Max stopped and turned around.

  “You know you’re still under arrest.”

  “Right. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, your friends back in town. They’re all chained to a flagpole.”

  “So I heard.”

  “They’re disrupting the whole town.”

  “How inconvenient of them.”

  “They said they’re not leaving until they get a guarantee that you can go free.”

  Max looked pensively away.

  “You have loyal friends. That’s a rare thing these days. You’re a lucky fellow.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it.”

  “But they’re wrong and so are you.”

  “About what?”

  “Everything.”

  “If that’s so, at least you can’t accuse me of inconsistency. Are you right about everything, Ed?”

  “Let’s just say I see the bigger picture.”

  “Was the copter crashing part of that picture?”

  “I never said it was a perfect world, kid.”

  “And that,” Max said, “is the part of the picture I like best. Think about it, Ed. And when I get back, tell me about the right and wrong you find in your company of trees and stars and animals. Tell me, if you can, what part they play in your scheme of things. See if they give a damn.” Max turned and sauntered off into the thick of the woods.

  When Max returned to the other camp he opened the tent flap and found Hardy Thoreson where he had left him. “Hey, Professor. How are you feeling?”

  Hardy opened his eyes and smiled, relieved to see him.

  “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?”

  Hardy coughed and shook his head.

  “The sheriff’s dead,” Max said. “Ed’s got a broken arm and ankle, but he’ll be okay. They never got where they were going. Can you travel?”

  “Now?”

  “No, we’d never make it by dark. First thing in the morning.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Max shook his head. “I can’t keep running back and forth. If I get you to the crash site, I can concentrate on getting help. You really ought to eat something.”

  “Later…”

  “Sure, you rest. I’m going outside to play for a while.”

  “Play?” Hardy smiled.

  “Explore, have a look around…” Max said, embarrassed. He ducked back out of the tent.

  They broke camp at dawn. Max loaded his pack with as many of Mr. Thoreson’s things as he could cram in. The professor carried only his own sleeping bag and some clothes. They left behind everything that was not essential or that Max knew was already at the other camp.

  They hiked slowly. Mr. Thoreson couldn’t walk fifty yards without stopping to rest. Numerous times Max had to put his arm around the man and shoulder him up steep hills and through drifts of snow.

  “I’ve never been sick like this before,” Thoreson said dismally, resting against the big tree Max had climbed the previous day. Max craned his head and looked up at the branch he had perched upon. The tree bustled with life, its own wildlife preserve. He counted three squirrels and six different species of birds.

  “We’re not far,” Max said. “An hour or so.”

  Max was worried. The man was not well, perhaps even dying. The next few hours were painful for Max to watch. Hardy grew progressively weaker, now stopping every five minutes to rest. Max feared that he was killing him. But what choice had he? They had to move on. For the last mile, Max all but carried Hardy, dragging him at his side.

  Finally they arrived. Max laid the professor alongside Ed Boswell, who was astonished at the weakened condition of his brother-in-law, a man whose body and health he had always envied.

  Max greeted Ed with a weary smile and said, “I hear misery loves company. Company meet misery, misery—company.”

  Although exhausted himself, Max wasted no time resting but began immediately to set up camp. He pitched the tent, set out the sleeping bags, and put the professor to bed. In order to move Ed around with as little agony as possible, Max fashioned him a crutch to hobble on, and a sling to keep the movement of his broken arm to a minimum. Then he gathered a night’s supply of wood and prepared dinner.

  Ed observed Max with interest. He admired the deliberateness and care the youth put into his every action. They exchanged few words, though not out of spite. Ed Boswell surprised himself by the begrudging fondness he felt for the lad, and he even began to consider overlooking the frustration and money he believed the boy had cost him. He thought Max was too flippant and irreverent, annoyingly ironic and bombastic; but in spite of these irritating traits, Ed decided that at heart the boy was a decent fellow. He even wondered if he had a place in his organization for a sharp youngster of Max’s obvious talents and charisma. He would check into it when they got back; if they got back.

  It wasn’t long, however, before Ed realized that his good intentions were an impossible fantasy, and that the youth was incorrigible. His disappointment came after dinner when he and Max sat conversing around the crackling fire, Ed swigging from the bottle of Jack Daniels that Max had retrieved from the downed helicopter. Try as he might, Ed Boswell could not persuade Max to accept his understanding of the universe. He tried getting Max angry, but Max did not get angry. Impassioned at times, but he never lost his temper.

  “I thought about what you told me,” Ed said, between sips of whiskey. He was not ready to turn in yet, and the booze made him feel cozy and talkative.

  “What’s that?” Max said.

  “You know, about the stars and trees and animals.”

  Max smiled. “Oh, right. And…?”

  Ed took another swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn’t feel a damn thing.”

  “Too bad.”

  “No, not bad. Not bad at all. I did realize something.”

  “Well, I’m glad for you, Ed.”

  “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “You’re going to tell me anyway, so sure, go ahead.”

  “It reconfirmed my belief that all you brainless, tree-hugging nature boys are full of crap.” Ed grinned smugly into the whiskey bottle and took another drink. “Well,” he said, disappointed at not having earned an immediate retort, “what have you got to say to that?”

  “Nothing. It’s just what one might expect from a coldhearted eco-barbarian.”

  “Hey, just because I don’t ascribe to your woodsy mysticism does not mean I’m an insensitive
brute. See those stars?” He waved the bottle at the sky. “…I appreciate those twinkles. Pretty stuff. That tree…?” He tipped the bottle behind him. “Great specimen. I appreciate it too. But I’m not about to worship it.”

  “Me neither, but would you prefer to live without it?”

  “There are plenty to go around.”

  “That ‘specimen’ behind you is one of a kind.”

  “Nah,” Ed said. “One of a million, ten million just like it.”

  “Seen one, seen them all, right?”

  “If I snapped my fingers and it disappeared, you’d never miss it.”

  “And if I snapped my fingers and you disappeared?”

  Ed laughed. “Don’t you wish!”

  “Why not snap your fingers and make this whole forest disappear?”

  “If I thought I could do better, I would. A good idea speaks more sense than a bunch of green-tasseled sticks in the ground.”

  “Dollars and cents, you mean.”

  “Money is the sled of progress, son.”

  “I’m all for money and progress,” Max replied. “I just don’t want politicians, lobbyists, crony corporatists, NGOs, or self-righteous, know-nothing celebrities dictating to me what progress is. I don’t want a monosyllabic planet devoid of diversity, nor do I want conformity disguised as cool. In other words, Ed, you know where you can slide that sled of yours, don’t you?”

  Ed laughed and took another swig. “Have a sip,” he said good-humoredly, offering Max the bottle.

  “No, thanks. You might be contagious.”

  Ed chuckled again. “You’re all right, Maxxy-boy. You keep on hugging those little trees of yours. Hug ‘em like you did your Teddy Bear when you were a kid. One day when you’re older and more experienced, you’ll put them aside just as you did that Teddy. And when you do, you’ll see that big, mean Ed Boswell was not the brute you imagined him to be.”

  “Thanks, Ed, I’ll remember that. Only I never owned a Teddy Bear and you never hugged a tree.”

  56

  Promises to Keep

  The tent was not big enough for the three of them, so Max redug the trench, added more coals and hot stones and slept a snug, weary sleep.

  After keeping his ritualistic vigil of the dawn, Max returned to the wrecked helicopter to see if there was any hope of repairing the radio. On board he found a toolbox. With wire clippers, needle-nose pliers, a screwdriver, and a Bic Lighter as a torch, Max set to work. Ever since he was a kid he enjoyed taking things apart and putting them back together again. Old radios, phonographs, televisions, telephones, stereos, and toasters—he had toyed with every appliance in his mother’s house at one time or another.

  It felt macabre to have a corpse leaning over his shoulder while he tinkered away. He pitied the sheriff. He stared into his glazed, lifeless eyes and mused that everything about the sheriff was basically the same as when he was alive, only he was not alive. The sheriff possessed all the necessary equipment for life, everything, that was, but the breath to generate it. Forty-eight hours ago the man was living matter, now he was just matter—a thing. The sheriff was a verb; now he was a noun: all in the space of a single breath.

  Max pictured the sheriff as a boy, red-haired and freckled, his whole life ahead of him; unaware that in that whole somewhere was a little dot, a black hole—a hole within the whole—where one day he would tumble, lose that crucial breath, and disappear. It was inevitable, and would happen to everyone one day. Max made a mental note to tell the professor that no matter what, don’t forget to breathe.

  When he returned to camp, he found Ed Boswell squirming impatiently inside the tent. “About time,” he growled.

  Aside from a bad hangover, Ed was dying to take a dump. Max dragged him out of the tent and helped him up onto his good leg and hobbled him out behind some bushes.

  “I’m sorry you have to see this, kid.”

  “Just hurry up,” Max said drearily.

  “Okay, watch out…”

  Max groaned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this… What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” Ed said, grinning in supreme satisfaction. “But when you get to be my age, you’ll understand what is meant by the little pleasures in life… Paper?”

  Max pulled a roll of toilet paper out of his jacket, tore off a long strip and handed it to Ed.

  Max looked away towards the top of the mountain. “Where’s the hermit?” he asked, handing Ed more paper.

  “Somewhere over this ridge, I think. Why?”

  “Do you really think he knows something?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I fixed the radio,” Max said. “Someone will be here in a couple of hours.” He handed Ed another wad of tissue.

  “That’s great, son! How did you do that?”

  “It wasn’t so hard.”

  “You’re a genius, kid… Now help me wiggle back into my drawers before my pecker freezes off, would ya?”

  Max checked on the professor. He was lying awake wrapped in his mummy bag.

  “How are you doing?” Max asked, offering him a cup of hot tea.

  Hardy lifted his head for a sip. “Tell Ed he snores.”

  “So do you,” Max said. “Listen, I radioed for help. Someone should be here soon.”

  “What about Aidos?”

  “I’m going on,” Max said.

  “Max…” He saw the way the boy shook his head and knew there was no point in arguing with him.

  “Besides, they would just throw me in jail.”

  “Not now,” Hardy said. “Not after what you did for Ed. You saved his lousy life…and mine.”

  Max grinned. “Don’t jump to conclusions. You look like death sucking a lemon. Anyway, there are plenty of people who’d like to see me hang. I have to know if Aidos is out there, and so do you.”

  “I’m sorry I pooped out on you like this, Max. I—”

  “Just rest and take care of yourself. Remember Aidos, and remember to keep breathing, okay?”

  The professor gave Max a quizzical look and then offered him a cold, limp hand. Max rolled it into a fist between his own warm hands. He held it as he watched the professor drift back to sleep.

  Ed said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Max walked over to the fire, retrieved some utensils and a saucepan, and brought them back to the rucksack he was packing. He yanked the straps on his ruck and hoisted it over one shoulder. He strolled over to Ed who was sitting against a tree.

  “Taking off,” Max said.

  Ed licked his lips and adjusted his cap. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “You’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “No,” Max said. “I’m looking for a girl in the woods.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Max. You come back with us now and I’ll see to it that you and your friends all get off on probation. Everybody goes home. Back to school, back to work, whatever. Copacetic. That simple. No strings. You have my word.”

  “What about my sisters?”

  “What about them?”

  “I want them back. They live with me.”

  “That’s a little out of my jurisdiction,” Ed said. “That’s between you and the state.” Sensing Max’s dismissal, he added, “But I’m sure we can work out something. I can put my lawyers on it.”

  “And Aidos and the professor? What about them?”

  “As soon as I get back, I’m putting together another search party. I’ll get the damn marines if I have to. I’ll find her. And if she’s alive—”

  “You leave her and Mr. Thoreson alone, right?”

  Ed shook his head. “Can’t do that, son. That wouldn’t be fair.”

  Max gave the ruck an adjusting heave. “Then I gotta go.”

  “Be reasonable. It’s a good deal. You have nothing to lose. This business with Aidos, what’s it to you anyway?”

  “You can’t go running other people’s lives for t
hem, Mr. Boswell. It’s wrong.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said bitterly. “You live in a dream world.” Realizing that anger was not going to work, Ed took a breath and lowered his tone. “Look, I like you, son. I’d like to help you if you’d let me. I can see you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Maybe it’s a little warped in places and could use a haircut, but you’ve got that special something that can take you places if only you’d get out of your own damn way. Now Aidos is special too. She deserves the best and I intend to give it to her. Nancy loves that girl as much as any mother could love a daughter. And I love her too.”

  “And the professor doesn’t?”

  “Of course he does, but it’s not the same. He’s demented, can’t you see that?”

  “He’s done well by her this far as you’ve already admitted.”

  “It wasn’t him. It’s her. She’s unique and would have been so no matter how she was brought up. It’s a shame you never met her mother. That’s where she got it from. Julie had some crazy ideas, but she was a great gal—beautiful, sharp as a whip, full of life. My wife took to her immediately, and Nancy doesn’t normally take to people like her. But as I say, she had something endearing about her, something enchanting, and Aidos has it too.”

  “I think you’re underestimating Mr. Thoreson and Camelot.”

  “Camelot,” Ed spat. “Get real. She’s not a little girl anymore. Enough with the fairy tales. You know, I think you’re just looking for excuses to fail, and for other people to blame it on.”

  “Sorry,” Max said. “If I fail, it is not because I can’t live up to your expectations; it’s because I don’t live up to my own.” He stilled and directed his attention outward. “Gotta go. They’re coming…”

  Ed listened intently but heard nothing. Max offered Ed his hand but Ed wouldn’t meet it. Neither hurt nor disappointed, Max smiled and pulled down on his beret. He slipped his arm through the other strap of his ruck, turned, and started away.

  “Just a second,” Boswell called out.

  Max turned and saw Ed reach into his sling and pull out the sheriff’s gun.