by Taki Drake
Thru the Badger Hole
by Taki Drake
Book One of
The Badger Hole Bar Series
Table of Contents
Title Page
Legal Stuff
Dedications
Chapter 1 – Walk of Remembrance
Chapter 2 – Hard Landing
Chapter 3 – Exploration
Chapter 4 – Gathering Clues
Chapter 5 – The Importance of Names
Chapter 6 – More Pieces
Chapter 7 – Images and Words
Chapter 8 – Gearing Up
Chapter 9 – Small Details
Chapter 10 – This Way be Monsters
Chapter 11 – Aftermath
Chapter 12 – Hotwash
Chapter 13 – First Choices
Chapter 14 – Scouting Party
Chapter 15 – Waiting for the Other Shoe
Chapter 16 – Shoes!
Chapter 17 – Settling In
Chapter 18 – Soft Opening
Chapter 19 – On Shaky grounds
Chapter 20 – Entry and Rebound
Chapter 21 – Staff Orientation
Chapter 22 – Scout Deployment
Chapter 23 – Intrepid Explorers
Chapter 24 – Puzzle Tale
Chapter 25 – Speed Dating BHB-Style
Chapter 26 – Fool Me Twice
Chapter 27 – Brews and Brawls
Chapter 28 – Weather and Wherefore
Chapter 29 – Banker and Merchant
Chapter 30 – After Dinner Conversations
Chapter 31 – So Far So Soon
Author Notes
Author Introduction – Taki Drake
Keep Connected
Legal Stuff
Copyright © Taki Drake, All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction of any kind is strictly prohibited unless written permission granted by the editor of the anthology and the individual author.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by All Chaos Press.
Dedications
First and foremost, this book is dedicated to my husband. His support and devotion have created an environment in which I have been able to dare to extend myself into new areas with the absolute certainty that someone will always have my back. Thank you, John. Thank you for your love and support, and being there in my life.
This book is also dedicated to the great group of crazy writers at Phoenix Prime. Those supportive, encouraging, and crazy indie authors have provided guidance, encouragement, and participation in my growth as writer of fiction.
None of this would be possible without the incomparable Ds, Dorene and Diane. Editors, beta readers, cheerleaders, and a bright spot in my life.
My loving thanks to you all!
Chapter 1 – Walk of Remembrance
The day was golden, warm with light and crisp in the special nature of an early fall afternoon. It was the type of day that Madrik had always loved. He and his wife, Jenny, had married at that time of year and their daughter Rachel had been born on such a beautiful, perfect day.
Madrik stared at the piles of colorful leaves, deep red from the maples and yellows of the aspens. He remembered Rachel giggling as she ran through the leaves, before flinging herself into the huge piles he had raked. He would pretend not to see her until she could jump up and scare him, shouting, “Surprise, Daddy.”
He would do his best to act surprised and horrified. It would send his daughter into more giggles after which he would chase her around the yard as she laughed and scampered among the trees and bushes.
Madrik could almost hear her laugh again, almost feel her little arms squeezing him as hard as her six-year-old body could, communicating the strength of her love by the touch of her body. Sometimes after she had worn herself out, he would sit in the big swing on their back porch and tell her stories of fantastical journeys and incredible creatures.
It was one of the best times of his life, those moments with his daughter. Then, when Rachel’s eyes had started to droop, and her warm little body was tucked against his, he would wrap her in a blanket. There would be a time of serenity as he pushed the swing back and forth. At some point, Jenny would come out of the house holding 2 cups of steaming cocoa. He would scoot over and make room for her in the swing. Together in relaxed silence, they would sip the cocoa and rock their little girl into the safeness of sleep.
As much as he tried to hold onto that thought, that memory, he couldn’t make it last. It was like he was trying to hold onto it, but his hands and feet were numb. The harder he tried to hold on, the more that memory slipped from his grasp leaving him with a pounding headache and nausea. He knew that if he kept trying, he would find himself doubled over, helplessly retching into the forgiving landscape. It had happened too many times recently for him to doubt what would occur.
The world around him was a vivid picture of fall, filled with vibrant colors and the activity of animals preparing for winter. But that’s not what Madrik saw or felt. Instead, his eyes saw a barren plain, his emotions projected a feeling of emptiness, lifeless and deserted. He could feel a frigid wind sweeping down on him and swirling around his clothes and skin. His body reacted with goosebumps that had no cause in the real world. But in the mental world that he inhabited, that coldness and his body’s reaction made perfect sense.
It was a world without his daughter, without his wife. The joys of their 20 years of marriage were gone, snuffed out in an instant. So too was the miraculous joy that was his little girl, killed by the same drunk driver that had stolen his wife.
Even now, nine torturous months after that horrendous doorbell had rung, the numbness and feeling of cold that inhabited his soul was still there. Somehow, he had gotten through the funerals. He had nodded in acknowledgment as people told him incomprehensible, banal things. Most things he couldn’t remember, others were so insensitive that they cut on his nerves like glass under your palm as you fell to the ground. They wounded him, and he didn’t seem to get past those bleeding injuries.
“This too shall pass.” What sort of idiotic statement was that to give to a grieving husband and father? Why on earth would you say that when the loss was so new, so raw. “At least they went quickly.” Was this supposed to be a comfort? Madrik had insisted on seeing his wife and daughter’s bodies. He wouldn’t truly believe that they were dead until he saw them. The policeman had tried to discourage him, but he had been adamant. His world crumbled when he saw their lifeless bodies.
There wasn’t enough time in the world to erase the image of fear and pain in the twisted expressions on their faces. There was no way he could scrub that out of his memory, no way to forget. It may have been only an instant, but his wife and daughter had died in fear.
And he hadn’t been there. Maybe if he had been driving, his military-trained reflexes might have saved them. Maybe not, but at least he would’ve been gone with them. Instead, they left him behind. Remaining to grieve for them and still go through the motions of life.
Madrik walked the path that he had traveled countless times with Jenny and Rachel. His mind flitted back to other, happier times and the sound of his daughter’s laughter and the smell of his wife’s soft perfume. His hand could feel the warmth of theirs, slender fingers in Jenny’s elegant hand and the usually sticky and grubby small hands of a little girl that liked to play outside.
Madrik was adrift, lost in feelings of worthlessness and aching with the amputation of large portions of his life. As he had grown older, he had started to define himself by the
role that he was filling. He had gone past teenager, with its hormone driven need to explore and rebel, into that of a young adult trying to find their wings and establish themselves.
When the next stage of his life had come up, he had embraced the success of his occupation and the advent of romance and love into his life. Many years had gone by before he and Jenny were able to welcome parenthood, but they had both valued and enjoyed the challenges and the pleasures of that precious phase.
What am I now? he thought to himself. The feelings of desperation and depression left him under a cloud, one that never seemed to lift. Without a firm direction, he just continued to walk. It seemed easier just to keep going rather than make a decision to do something else. After all, that’s what people kept telling him, “Just take each day at a time, keep putting one foot in front of the other.”
Madrik wasn’t exactly sure when he realized that someone was walking beside him. For a split instant, his heart leaped in hope, and he turned his head hoping to see a familiar auburn set of curls. But instead of a woman with a ready smile and sparkling eyes, he saw an old man. I wonder when he joined me? Madrik thought.
The younger man wondered if he ought to say something. It just seemed too hard to start talking, especially to strangers. Madrik decided that since his companion had joined him by choice, it was up to the older man to open the conversation if indeed there was going to be one. So, they continued to walk in silence as the sun sank lower in the sky and the day started to chill.
“What do you see when you look at the trees?” asked the old man.
“Death and dying. Energy running away from the world and possibly never coming back.”
“Interesting. I see transformation. A time when the world needs a breather, some contemplation time. A regrouping before rest and preparation for new growth in the spring.”
Madrik gave a short laugh, ironic and rusty sounding. “Then you see more possibilities than I can. I think I’ve lost the ability to see hope and growth.”
“There are always choices, always possibilities. Look over here, see the fox and her kits? They are preparing for the winter. Their den is dug out, and they’ve pulled in debris to help insulate it. They are eating as much as they can now to make it through the lean times of winter. They have choices, and they’re exercising them. There are possibilities, and they are exploring them. The universe is about possibilities.”
The younger man closed his eyes in a spasm of pain. He used to say something very similar to Jenny. It had been another teaching moment for a parent to have with a child, but it had been far much more to him. It’d been a meeting of similar minds, his and hers. She had only been six, but she had the same appreciation for the branching path of decisions that her father had.
Madrik had never resented the fact that Jenny didn’t share that curiosity, that need to know. However, he had been thrilled to find out that his only child had shared that attitude with him. They would sit and make up fantastical creatures from different planets and tell stories about them. She would talk about all the places that they were going to travel when she was older. Her mind was already traveling there, and her father’s went with her. The bittersweet pleasure of that memory made Madrik’s voice even rougher when he replied, “Sometimes possibilities are no longer available. Sometimes, they die.”
The old man walked next to Madrik for another 15 minutes in silence. Sneaking sideways glances, the younger man was conscious of a brief flash of curiosity. Thoughts like, Who is this old man and why does he want to talk to me? ran briefly through his head.
Answers were important to younger man. He loved playing games and solving puzzles. He had been teaching some of his favorite ones to Jenny ever since they got married and Rachel had been starting to participate also. To get answers, he needed more information.
Uncomfortable with interrogating a perfect stranger, Madrik began to actively observe the older man. The stranger wasn’t terribly pre-possessing. He had a trimmed white beard on a deeply-tanned dark face. His skin reminded Madrik of an old leather suitcase he had, one that had traveled around the world many times. It had that sort of supple, partially-wrinkled flexibility that made it his favorite suitcase even 30 years after he first used it.
Shorter than Madrik’s own 6’2” height, the older man couldn’t have been more than 5’6” or so. He was moving easily, far more easily than most people of his apparent age could. No hesitation in his stride or in the way he twisted his body. Interesting, thought Madrik to himself.
The movement and the body were some indications, but the face was even more interesting. Dark, almost Indian black eyes were mobile in a flexible face. A ready smile lit up the darkness of the face when the old man’s laughter displayed his teeth in a grin. All in all, he was an innocuous picture of a friendly stranger, notable only because of the calm that seemed to radiate from deep within his core.
Why then did Madrik feel a strange mixture of anticipation and a tiny thread of fear. He had no idea. The man had done nothing to say or indicate that he was a threat. The two of them were simply walking down a known path with other people running, biking, and walking along it. They were not isolated, but Madrik felt a cresting sense of something about to happen.
Shaking his head, the younger man mentally kicked himself in the butt thinking, I need to get a grip. This is ridiculous. Just because some unknown stranger wants to talk to me doesn’t mean I have to get all paranoid. Perhaps, I looked as depressed as I feel. Maybe he’s just lonely.
The two men continued to walk in companionable silence as the bird songs increased in volume as dusk began to descend on the landscape, settling a blanket of reduced light that made everything stand out in stark relief along the path. The rustling in the undergrowth got louder as those denizens of the forest that lived their lives on the fringes of daylight began to move. Madrik knew he should be getting back home soon. If he didn’t, he was sure to have one of his neighbors start looking for him. He knew that his friends had instituted an unofficial watch over him. Sometimes he appreciated it when he wasn’t feeling irritated and crowded.
“Watch out!” the old man called suddenly.
Madrik stopped instantly and looked at his companion in startlement. Feeling Madrik’s gaze, the old man pointed with a jerk of his chin toward the pathway in front of them. Madrik followed the line of his gaze and recoiled in surprise. “Where did that come from?” he asked. Instantly feeling like a fool, the younger man realized that the warning from the older man had sounded surprised also. There was no reason to ask his companion where the hole came from because they were both on an equal footing of ignorance. Determined to understand what had created the 6-foot-wide hole in the middle of the walking and biking path, Madrik carefully eased his way toward the edge of the hole so that he could look down.
This was not a pothole. There was no crumbling on the sides and no indication that the circular pit had been there for any length of time. Madrik knew that they had been passed by bikers from this direction repeatedly and no one had mentioned anything about a problem on the path. Whatever had caused this, it had to have just occurred, but he didn’t understand how or why.
The old man walked up to join him at the edge of the hole, looking down into the depths with curiosity and interest playing across his face. Glancing up at Madrik, the older man seemed to be excited. His eyes were sparkling, and a grin was starting to emerge as he asked Madrik, “This is exciting. What you think of it?”
“I don’t really think anything of it right now. I’m just observing.”
“It’s a good thing to observe things that are strange to you. In fact, I think in general that’s a survival mechanism. Don’t you agree?”
Taken aback by this statement, Madrik replied, “I guess so.”
“Well, that implies possibilities. And in our earlier talk, you tried to tell me that you couldn’t see possibilities. I think this just proves you wrong. Someone who wouldn’t see possibilities wouldn’t be asking the same ques
tions that you are.”
Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, Madrik was forced to nod in wordless agreement. He leaned slightly further over the hole, trying to see into the strangely shrouded interior. There was a swirling mass of gray, formless fog that filled the pit starting approximately 6 inches below the lip. Thick enough that it was impossible to see through, Madrik was fascinated by the fog with its occasional glints of colored threads that would appear, move, and disappear on the waves of the billowing mass.
“It seems to me that this here hole is an example of endless possibilities. It probably conceals lots of choices too. After all, possibilities and choices go together. And somebody who takes control of their choices also can direct their possibilities to some degree.”
Only half listening to the old man’s suddenly serious voice, Madrik absentmindedly replied, “I am forced to agree. This is extremely curious, and we had better report it to someone who can come and protect people from falling into it. It would be terrible to be walking or biking along the path and suddenly find yourself falling.”
“I don’t think that this hole is gonna last long enough for anybody to really fall in by accident.”
“Well, you may be right, but it still seems the prudent and responsible thing to do.”
Madrik realized a split second after he had replied to the old man that the comment about how long the hole would last wasn’t matching to a state of ignorance. The younger man started to straighten up to question his companion when he felt a tremendous shove against his back and butt. The force of that propelled him away from the edge of the hole to hang suspended for a split second over the seething mass of fog before gravity pulled him in.
The only thing that he managed to rip out of his throat as he fell was a heartfelt question of, “Why?”
The old man’s voice followed him into the strange cloud, echoing in his ears with a power that was unexpected. “Because we have been waiting for you. Because the time is right, and this is the stage of your life where you can start to make different choices and claim possibilities of which you never dreamed.”
