Nirvana Effect

by Craig Gehring

  The man who saved my life. Nockwe plunged through the crowd. His wife followed in his wake. He didn’t want her to, but there would be no stopping her. They reached the front of the circle.

  He couldn’t help but think about his duel with Dook, and Edward’s intervention. He pushed thoughts of honor aside. If he were to save his village from this tyrant, he would need to wait for his opportunity. It would not be now, with village burned and his people homeless, and all of the tribe’s resources under Mahanta’s thumb.

  Nockwe watched the rhythms of the duel. Mahanta was winning. The Onge god landed a heavy blow to Edward’s face. It looked like he broke the white man’s nose. Mahanta seized the initiative, striking furiously and recovering his knife.

  Bri grabbed Nockwe’s arm. “Nockwe,” she shouted over the din of the crowd.

  He looked back at her. She sounded disturbed.

  “Look at her,” she said, pointing to a young white woman held hostage by two warriors. “That is the savior of our child. That is her. And this is surely her death.”

  70

  Edward jerked his head up. He saw Mahanta, mid war cry, coming down with the knife. He saw a dark blur that yanked Mahanta’s body to the side like a rag doll.

  Edward tried to scramble away. The poison didn’t let him. It was sapping his whole body of life. Edward only managed to drag a few feet to the side. He turned to where the blur had gone.

  Nockwe! The knife which had spelled Edward’s death was nowhere to be seen. Mahanta had rolled with Nockwe’s tackle, and the chieftain let the god get his bearings before the challenge began in earnest.

  Nockwe had intervened.

  All around Edward, the crowd was in uproar. Edward forced his thoughts inward. He had to focus. He had to stop the poison.

  I’ve got to help Nockwe. He isn’t trancing. He isn’t even in the lightness. Manassa will murder him.

  “Nockwe!” Edward yelled weakly. He could not get any force behind his voice. The poison must have moved further than he thought.

  Nockwe turned. Edward grabbed the pill from his pants and threw it at Nockwe’s head.

  “Under the tongue!” Edward yelled as it flew toward his face. Manassa lunged toward Nockwe, but the chieftain caught it in his mouth with his hand before Manassa could reach him.

  Manassa clipped Nockwe, both rolling to the ground. They bounced to their feet, circling, their fists in the air before them.

  Manassa spoke once more in traditional Onge. “Do you test the lord, your god?”

  Nockwe answered in a rage, “We shall see if you’re still a god without a beating heart. We shall see if they’ll worship you after you’re dead.”

  “Enough!” shouted Manassa. He attacked Nockwe in rage. Edward could tell that the trance had taken hold in Nockwe, but the chieftain was making the same mistake that Edward had at first. Nockwe was sticking to Onge fighting-style, rather than adapting his style for the moment. Manassa was much more fluid, much more agile, and was getting in blows. Nockwe was on the defensive.

  Manassa did not let up, refusing to give the initiative. His fists were easy to keep up with to Edward, who was also trancing, but anyone else would have said he’d sprouted eight arms - and Nockwe, too, with his blocking.

  Manassa moved in close, his fists pounding into Nockwe’s chest. Nockwe fell backwards, and Manassa tried to kick him. Nockwe managed to grab his foot and twist it. Manassa went down and rolled out. They both bounced to their feet again.

  One of Manassa’s priests stepped into the ring slightly, as though to move in front of Manassa. Manassa waved him off, his eyes still locked on Nockwe. Nockwe charged leading with his fists, but just before he closed the distance Manassa let out a vicious jab with his foot. Edward heard a rib crack. The blow propelled Nockwe backwards. Manassa followed it up with another flying kick straight at Nockwe’s head. The chieftain only managed to avoid the foot partially, the brunt of the force sending him down to the ground once more.

  Had Nockwe not been trancing, that would have been the end of that duel, but instead his reaction was merely a savage yell. It reminded Edward of the medicine man’s drone during the ritual. There was torture in his voice.

  Nockwe got up. His neck muscles tensed, his whole body flexed. Sweat and blood shook off his dark skin. Nockwe charged again.

  Manassa feinted to the right, but Nockwe read him, sending a vicious jab to the left the caught Manassa off guard. Nockwe connected ten times in the space of seconds, sending Mahanta reeling back. The bystanders had to scatter as the fight was propelled into the crowd.

  Manassa buckled under the blows. Nockwe was on top of him, whaling at him.

  “NOCKWE!” It was that same priest yelling. He was standing where Callista had been. Callista was gone. The two bodies of her guards lay in a pool of blood on the ground. The priest held Bri’ley’na, Nockwe’s wife, with a knife to her neck. Bri’s knife lay bloodied on the ground beside the fallen guards. Bri shrieked, wriggling to get away.

  Nockwe turned his head to look. Manassa scrambled back to the edge of the crowd.

  “Bri!”

  “Your wife murdered two of the warriors!”

  “Release her!” yelled Nockwe. “I am your chieftain! Do as I say!” he shouted. He had panic in his voice. The priest did not budge. “Do you dare to defy me? Do you dare to interrupt the challenge?”

  “Don’t move, Nockwe!” the priest shouted.

  Manassa gathered his breath. “Kill them!” he shouted. “They are traitors of our people, and no longer Onge. They are white lovers. Kill them!!! Then onto the boats before they stop us!” The crowd surged inward. Manassa disappeared.

  Nockwe ran toward his wife.

  Edward couldn’t see the chieftain anymore. The crowd engulfed him.

  Edward closed his eyes. He had to stop the poison. He had to get rid of it before the trance stopped. He felt the after-pain starting to set in, and with it a gut-wrenching sort of suffocation. The nirvana effect was ending.

  He did not fear the trampling feet of the tribe. The poison might kill him first.

  71

  Nockwe ran with his wife away from the shore. In the chaos, Nockwe eluded the Onge. A fight had broken out by the firelight. Some were taking Nockwe’s side.

  Nockwe held his wounded wife to him. The life was running out of her with every pulsing of her veins.

  He sat down with her on his lap behind a lean-to. There were boys running back and forth, confused, but no one saw the chieftain and his wife.

  “Bri…” said Nockwe. “Bri…my angel, you are so strong.”

  He stroked her hair for the last time. Her eyes started to empty. She managed a weak smile. Pain gripped her tense face, but there was a smile.

  “I love you, my chieftain.” Two tears ran down her cheeks. Life left her body. He closed her body’s eyes.

  “So long, my love,” he said. He held her tight. He knew it was just a body, now, it was not Bri’ley’na, his beloved. He knew she was gone now no matter how much he remembered her. She had gone on to the world after. He knew she would go to the heaven of warriors and hunters, even though she was female. He would see her there.

  He cried, though there was no time for it. He gripped her body one last time, then laid her down under the lean-to. She was a casualty of war, a war just begun. There was no time for a burial.

  For that, he hated Mahanta and his wretched priesthood even more.

  Nockwe ran back into the crowd for the white man. All were looking for the chieftain, but no one saw him. The fighting had moved even closer to the sea.

  72

  In the confusion, Edward was left for dead. He certainly looked dead. He wasn’t moving or even breathing for that matter.

  James had grabbed him and heaved him up on his shoulder, running as fast as he could with Callista leading the way. Manassa had given no order about the whites, and no one seemed to be paying them any mind. The Onge’s attention was riveted closer to the shore, where the skiffs had run agr
ound to pick up their passengers and where fighting was still raging on.

  James heaved Edward into the bed of the old red F-150 that had carried him in. Callista got into the back with Edward, lying low so as not to be seen. James started driving.

  No one noticed them as they pulled off. James checked the rear view mirror. He heard a thud and saw a blur of dark skin.

  A native had jumped onto the truck bed from out of nowhere. James slammed the brakes and leaned out of the window, frantically trying to see what was going on. Callista waved him off. It was that native that had saved Edward’s life.

  James punched the accelerator. He didn’t want any more random natives joining them. His passengers bounced violently in the truck bed, trying to hold on as best they could.

  The headlights of a couple cars flicked on. Maybe they were trying to follow them. It didn’t matter – James had gotten some distance. The Ford would outpace those cars on the rough terrain.

  73

  Callista checked Edward’s vitals.

  His pulse had slowed to almost nothing. He was breathing, but just barely. He looked as though he might be hibernating. Something was terribly wrong. She checked over his gunshot wound. He’d gotten hurt, but it wasn’t anything that should have sent him into shock.

  Then she saw his right hand. It was blue, as though the circulation hadn’t come to it in a while. His veins were discolored.

  Poison?

  She held his head in her hands. There was nothing she could do except pray. She was sure Edward could do a better job of it than her, but she would give it her best. There was no harm in trying.

  74

  Edward was aware of nothing except his cells. He could only sense the burning of his cells and the dying in his body. And of course there was the sensation of his head in Callista’s hands.

  The trance had stopped. It had run out. But then something had happened.

  He had started it again.

  It wasn’t the drug trance, it was something else, something born of necessity, the same sort of necessity that let him perceive that dart so clearly.

  As he’d forced himself to focus at Seacrest’s house, so did he force himself into trance now. It was harder. It took all of his will, and something more. But he was doing it. Having gone to that state many times, he willed himself to go there again.

  He willed himself to live.

  The poison was everywhere in his body.

  It was sending him into shock.

  He felt his body trying to neutralize it, trying to kill it off. His vitals would give out before his immune system could work.

  And yet he willed it. He willed his heart to pump, his lungs to breathe, his vitals to continue, barely.

  It was a weak poison. It was biological. It sent the whole body into shock, but it was dying. His body could handle it, if his body had time. His kidneys were slowly neutralizing it, cleaning his blood.

  He kept his body going. He kept pushing the blood through his veins. He kept pumping the air through his lungs.

  He would live.

  These eyes will open. I will see her.

  He focused on her hands cradling his head. He heard her praying.

  75

  Callista sponged Edward’s head with cool water. She dipped her hand in the basin and splashed some on her face, herself. She was tired. She’d been at it for days. She would not leave Edward’s side.

  His breathing had grown stronger and more regular. His heart was doing fine. He would wake up, soon. She wanted to be there when he woke up. She didn’t want him to have the shock of wondering if she’d survived the ordeal. And she wanted to be the first to greet him back to the living.

  James had rented an apartment near the docks that overlooked the harbor. Edward’s room had the best view. James had taken to calling it the “sick room.” Callista kept the windows open to keep the air fresh.

  She stretched and walked to the window. The door clicked open behind her.

  “How is he doing?” It was James. He’d come up and check on her now and then.

  “Fine,” she said. A couple boats dear the docks almost hit one another. She could hear the faint strains of a couple of the deckhands shouting back and forth.

  “Yeah? How are you doing?”

  “He should wake up any time. His vitals are strong.” She turned around. “Thank you for helping. I don’t know why you are, but thank you.”

  James rubbed his head. He looked tired, too. He leaned against the wall. “Sure,” he said.

  She took her seat by the bed. James had been looking at her and Edward but now was gazing out the window.

  “Callista, do you mind my telling you something?” he asked after a long silence.

  “No, I don’t think so. No, I don’t mind,” she said.

  He nodded. “Well, I just want to thank you, too. You see, well, I’m sure Edward will tell you all about it once he wakes up, but, well, you see, I’m not exactly good folk…”

  “Nonsense, James, you’re…”

  He waved down her protest. “I’m not. I’m a crook, really. It’s why I’m on this island. I used to doctor crooks, see. And it backfired. It’s why I’m here.” He sat down in the corner in one of the spare chairs. “It’s why I’m here,” he repeated. “And I’d gotten pretty low in my life, I mean real low. And I met you, and I wanted to be with you, and so you inspired me to try to be something that I used to be a long, long time ago. You reminded me. So now I’m here, and it’s not too great a circumstance, but it’s better than where I was, in spite of everything. So, thank you. That’s all.” He smiled.

  Callista opened her mouth to respond, but she did not answer. Edward’s body moved. It tensed just a bit, but it was enough to rivet her attention. His eyelids fluttered. She grabbed his hand.

  She remembered James and glanced back at him. He was already taking his leave, smiling once more and waving for her to turn her eyes back to Edward. The door clicked closed.

  Edward’s hand tightened around hers. His eyes opened. He took in her face for a long while, then frantically eyed the room. He tried to pull himself up, but he wasn’t strong enough.

  He was strong enough to lie there awake for hours as she cried holding him. He was strong enough to whisper, “It’s okay,” “We’re okay,” and “I love you,” and listen to her mumble and laugh and cry some more.

  Eventually, she fed him soup. She helped him sit up, which he managed fine, but his hands shook too much for him to reliably get his food to his own mouth. After he got some sustenance down besides IV fluid he seemed sharper. He was the same Edward, only exhausted. He hadn’t changed at all.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked.

  He looked at her incredulously.

  “Listen,” she said. “That was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life. But it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, okay? And we’re okay, okay?”

  He still looked doubtful.

  “Look, if I had died, then you could have been sorry, okay?”

  He chuckled.

  “Eat more soup,” she said, lifting another spoonful to his mouth.

  76

  Nockwe had left the city once he’d ascertained that Edward was safe.

  Edward found him at the village, sitting against the ancient rock that marked the center of Onge civilization.

  Nockwe did not react to Edward’s approach. It was as though Nockwe were expecting him.

  “This rock,” said Nockwe. “My great-great-grandparents lived and died not a thousand paces from this rock.”

  Edward followed Nockwe’s gaze. He was watching the ruins of his village.

  “Your health?” asked Nockwe.

  “Returned,” said Edward. “And yours?”

  “I have a sickness that can’t be cured.”

  The grounds of the village still smelled of ash.

  “I am sorry for your loss. Callista told me.”

  Nockwe studied Edward’s face and t
hen nodded, accepting his condolences. Nockwe didn’t look sad. He looked as though he were smoldering.

  “Do you know how I became chieftain over all Onge?” asked Nockwe.

  “You challenged three men back to back, and you survived.”

  Nockwe shook his head. “Ten years ago, when Bri’ley’na was only fifteen, she had agreed to be my wife. Our chieftain, though, would not give his blessings. His son wanted her for himself. So Bri’ley’na petitioned the chieftain directly, telling him that she would not allow herself to be married to anyone but me. He finally consented. His son grew so angry, however, that two days before the ceremony he tried to rape my Bri. She escaped because I discovered them and intervened. When I charged the son with the crime, the chieftain wouldn’t hear it.”

  “So then you challenged him?” asked Edward.

  “No, then his son challenged me. And then his brother intervened. And then their father intervened. And after I killed my chieftain, I had to kill each son or else they would kill me.”

  Nockwe stood up and leaned against his rock. He sighed. It was the closest to grief Edward had ever seen him. Finally, Nockwe locked eyes with Edward. “The only day of my life worse than the day I became chieftain was the day I lost my Bri.”

  Edward felt he had to say something. He didn’t know what to say, but he had to say something. “Your Bri’ley’na was brave,” said Edward. “I owe her a debt.”

  Nockwe nodded. “So do I. I intend to pay it. Now tell me, Edward, do you come to reminisce, or is there business on your mind?”

  May as well be direct. “I’m chasing Mahanta,” said Edward. “I thought you might want to join me. I would be grateful if you would join me.”

  Nockwe considered it momentarily. It seemed he’d already considered it. He nodded. “I will join you.” He sat back down against his rock.

  “We’ll get him, Nockwe,” said Edward, looking out at the ashes of Nockwe’s home.