Holdin' On for a Hero

by Ciana Stone

  Wyatt felt a cold like that of the grave take hold of him. His skin prickled and he shivered violently. “No.” He shook his head. “It isn’t true. I never had a brother. I would have remembered that. It isn’t true.”

  Chance pulled the quilt from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around him. “Listen to me. I’m not lying to you. You did have a brother. That’s who is inside you. Walker is the Warrior and he’s trying to take over.”

  “No!” he shouted and threw off the quilt as he bounded to his feet. “Why are you doing this to me, telling me these lies?”

  Chance tried to take his hands but he pushed her away. “I’m not lying. You have to think back. Try to remember. You’re six years old. You’re in the first grade and you and Walker are riding the bus home from school. But you don’t go home. Instead you—”

  Wyatt felt something prick his mind and mentally retreated from it. “No!” he whispered harshly. “No, it isn’t…” Memories of a day long ago began to take shape in his mind and he cried out, putting his hands over his face and sinking to the floor. “No, I don’t want to see. I don’t want to…”

  The memories bloomed in his mind and his voice failed. Caught up in a time that had been buried in his mind he lost touch with the present.

  Walker nudged him in the side. “Hey! Want to get off the bus at the next stop? Bobby told me that Winny Holling’s fishing at his uncle’s lake. The private school’s out today. We can sneak up on him and scare him.”

  Wyatt thought about it. Walker loved to pick on Winston Holling III, or Winny as he was called. Wyatt wasn’t sure why. Winny really wasn’t all that bad. He was a little stuck up and always bragged about how much money his dad had but aside from that he was okay. And Wyatt felt a little sorry for him. Winny was a couple of years older than he and Walker but he was pretty much of a sissy. He was fat and his skin was so white that whenever he got out in the sun he turned a bright pink. He couldn’t climb trees and run and swim like most of the other boys and he didn’t have many friends.

  Wyatt really didn’t enjoy picking on Winny but he knew if he told his brother that, Walker would give him the business, so he came up with another excuse. “We’ll get in trouble. You remember what Dad said. We can’t pick on Winny anymore. His dad gets all mad and causes trouble for everyone.”

  “Chicken!” Walker elbowed him again. “Bock, bock!”

  “I’m not chicken!” Wyatt protested.

  “Are too!”

  “Am not!”

  “Are too!”

  “Am not!”

  “Prove it!”

  “I will!” Wyatt was angry at the way the other children were laughing, hearing Walker calling him chicken. He felt like he had to prove he wasn’t afraid.

  Walker laughed and put his arm around Wyatt’s neck, rubbing his knuckles on Wyatt’s head. “Atta boy, Wyatt! Me and you—the Wolfe twins. We’re not real Cherokee like grandpa ‘cause Dad’s father was Choctaw. But we’re still real people anyway. And since our name is wolfe that means we’re just like those guys mom read us about. You know…what were their names? The ones that were raised by the wolf?”

  “Romulus and Remus,” Wyatt replied. He had never liked that story. Walker only listened to the part about how the brothers had been found by a wolf and had grown up to be the founders of Rome. Wyatt remembered something different from the story. How Romulus had killed Remus.

  “Yeah, that’s the ones!” Walker smiled again. “Hey! This is the stop. Come on!”

  They got off the bus and wandered through the woods to Wilbur Johnson’s place. Walker tossed his books down behind a tree and started sneaking around toward the pond. After a moment Wyatt followed him.

  Just like Bobby had said, Winny Holling was sitting on the bank of the lake, holding a brand-new fishing rod and drinking a bottled soda.

  Walker motioned for Wyatt to follow him. He led Wyatt to the creek that fed the stream and dug up a fat crawdad. Stuffing it in his pocket he giggled. “Come on, let’s give old Winny the business.”

  Wyatt didn’t really want to scare Winny. He had nothing against the boy. But for some reason Walker hated him. Wyatt thought it was because Winny was rich. Walker insisted it was because Winny was too prissy.

  They snuck up behind Winny and Walker pulled the crawdad from his pocket. He grabbed Winny by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back, dropping the crawdad right on his face.

  Winny screamed and swatted at his face. “Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!”

  Walker let go of him and fell back on the ground laughing. Wyatt leaned over and plucked the crawdad from Winny’s face and tossed it into the pond. Winny sat up with tears streaming down his red face. “I’m gonna fix you, both of you. When I tell my dad you’ll be sorry. Your old man’ll be outta work and your mother will lose her job. You’re gonna be sorry.”

  Wyatt and Walker looked at one another. They both knew that money was tight at home. Without Sarah’s job teaching it would be hard to make ends meet. John was a carpenter and his work wasn’t always steady.

  Winny stood and Walker jumped up in front of him. “You ain’t telling nobody nothing!”

  “I am too!”

  “No, you’re not!” Walker shoved him.

  “Stop it! I’m gonna tell!”

  Walker shoved him again. “And I said you won’t.”

  “Try and stop me!”

  Walker grinned and shoved Winny again. This time the shove sent Winny stumbling back into the water. “You better stop!” he yelled. “You’re gonna be sorry.”

  Walker laughed and dove onto him. Winny went down underneath him and Walker held on. When Winny tried to raise his head to get a breath of air, Walker shoved him down farther.

  Wyatt realized that Walker was serious. He was going to drown Winny. He ran out into the water and tried to knock Walker off Winny, but Walker hit him in the mouth, splitting his lip. “Chicken!” he taunted.

  “Walker, stop! You’re gonna kill him!”

  Walker laughed and pushed Winny down harder. Wyatt tried again to dislodge his brother but once again Walker lashed out. Wyatt felt like he was in a bad dream. Winny was flailing around a lot slower. If he didn’t do something he would drown.

  “Walker, stop it!” he shouted. “I mean it. Let him go!”

  Walker smiled and pulled an old knife from his pocket. “Or what?”

  “Put that down!”

  “Put it down!” Walker laughed. “Well, okay.”

  Wyatt screamed as he saw the knife flash down. A moment later a red stain blossomed in the water. Winny’s arms quit waving and Wyatt knew he had to save him. Without thinking he dove at his brother, knocking him off the drowning boy. Walker grunted as Wyatt knocked him into the water. They both went under and came up sputtering. Walker made a swipe at him with the knife. The tip caught on his right jawbone, slicing the skin. Wyatt cried out in pain and moved back but Walker just laughed and came after him.

  Seeing his brother coming for him with the knife made an anger rise inside him. He stopped retreating and faced his brother. “Stop, Walker. I mean it. Stop.”

  But Walker would not stop. He kept coming. Wyatt screamed as he felt the knife cut into his arm and he jumped on Walker. They both went under, kicking and hitting as they fought for the knife. Wyatt felt his head getting dizzy. He couldn’t breathe. But Walker would not let him rise to the surface. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he felt like his lungs were going to explode.

  Just as the dark spots began to coalesce into a solid shroud, Wyatt felt a burst of energy. Using every ounce of strength he had he pushed Walker down under him and put his feet on Walker’s back. Pushing hard he propelled himself up.

  Air rushed into his lungs and he gulped greedily. After a moment it occurred to him that Walker hadn’t come up. Thinking that Walker was trying to scare him into thinking he was hurt, he kicked at him under the water. Walker still didn’t surface so Wyatt ducked back under the water and grabbed him by the jacket
and pulled him up.

  Walker’s face broke the surface of the water and Wyatt screamed.

  Chance put her arms around Wyatt as he screamed. It was more the howl of pain and fear than a scream. When the sound died he slumped in her arms. She hugged him in silence, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart.

  After a long time he pushed her back to arm’s length and looked at her. She searched his eyes and saw a haunted look in their depths. “Wyatt? Can you talk to me? Tell me what you saw.”

  He didn’t reply for a moment then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I did have a brother.”

  “Yes,” she agreed as he opened his eyes. “But he died.”

  “No, he didn’t just die. He was killed. By me. I killed my brother.”

  Chance took his hands and pulled him to her. “It wasn’t like that, Wyatt. You and I both know it. Walker killed the Holling boy and you tried to stop him. Then he tried to kill you.”

  “But I killed my own brother.” His voice sounded old and weary.

  “You only tried to survive. You know that. You can’t feel guilty for living, Wyatt. That’s what Walker wants. He wants you to carry around that guilt—that’s the power he has over you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that the thing you’ve been fighting is not some nameless spirit. It’s Walker.”

  “My brother? You expect me to believe that my dead—that Walker wants to take control of me?”

  “No. He wants much more than that. What Walker wants is to take your life—completely. Wyatt, your brother wants to be you. And he wants you dead.”

  * * * * *

  John had just turned off the television for the night when the front door burst in. The wood frame splintered as the loud crash sounded in the quiet night. For one moment John froze in surprise. Then he went for his shotgun, propped beside the fireplace. Unfortunately his one moment of hesitation put him one second too late to reach it before the men rushed in and attacked him.

  He lashed out at the first one, dealing him a glancing blow to the jaw. The second man jabbed him twice in the kidneys and John staggered in pain. By then the man he had hit had recovered and returned a blow of his own.

  John’s head swam from the punch but he did not give up. It took several minutes for the two younger men to overpower him but at last they managed to do so. A third man stepped up in front of John as the others held his arms immobilized. “I know you,” John spat blood at the man before him. “You’re Les Turner’s boy—Hank. What do you want?”

  Hank smiled smugly at his friends before responding. “Well, Mr. Wolfe, it’s like this. You’re gonna do us a little favor.”

  “You think so?” John asked sarcastically.

  “Oh, I know so.” Hank sounded cocksure as he puffed up his chest and hitched his pants up a notch over his ample belly. “See, you’re gonna call that son of yours and tell him to hightail it on over here.”

  “Why would I want to do something like that?”

  “Because you don’t wanna die, old man.” Hank’s smile disappeared.

  John shook his head. “Sorry.”

  Hank belted John in the stomach and laughed as he wheezed and doubled over. The men holding him jerked him upright as they laughed and Hank moved closer to look down at his face. “Like I said, you’re gonna call your son.”

  “Go to hell,” John rasped.

  Hank looked at the other two men in indecision and one of them spoke up. “Maybe we should rough him up a little…change his mind.”

  “Or maybe we should call Gre—” The second man’s words were cut short by Hank punching him. “Goddamn, Graham, why don’t you just blurt it out, you dumb shit!”

  Graham flushed and looked down. “Sorry, it was an accident. But I still think we should call and see what he wants us to do.”

  Hank looked from Graham to the other man and lastly to John then he walked across the room, picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds he spoke into the receiver. “Hey, it’s me, Hank. We’ve got old man Wolfe but he won’t ‘xactly cooperate. What do you want us to do?… Yeah, got it. Okay.”

  He hung up the phone and went outside. When he returned he had a coil of rope in his hand. He crossed the room to stand in front of John. “Well, seeing as how you don’t wanna make that call for us I guess we’ll just hafta do it ourselves. Tie him in that chair over there, boys. I don’t want him getting away while we’re talking to his boy.”

  John struggled against the men as they pulled him across the room and lashed him to a straight-backed wooden chair. Hank pulled a chair over in front of him and set it down with its back facing John. Straddling the chair, he rested his arms on the back of it. “Okay, boys, now here’s what we’re gonna do. Graham, you’re gonna place the call. You tell Wyatt that we’ve got his old man and he better get his ass over here.”

  “And what if he says no?”

  Hank smiled at John. “Then we’ll just have to let his daddy convince him to change his mind. Now, make the call.”

  * * * * *

  Chance was sitting quietly, watching Wyatt as he stood by the window under the loft, staring silently into the darkness outside. He hadn’t spoken a word since she told him that his brother wanted him dead.

  Wyatt wasn’t even aware she watching him. His mind was caught in the memory of what had happened the day his brother died. He remembered how horrified he was at what he’d done and how afraid he was to go home and tell his father.

  His mom and dad had gone back with him to the pond after calling the police. It was bad enough that Wyatt had to see the look on his parents’ faces when they saw Walker, but when the police arrived it got worse. Winston Holling arrived with them and as soon as he got a look at Winny he made a beeline for Wyatt. If John hadn’t stopped him, Wyatt was sure Winston would have killed him.

  Now that the memory had returned, Wyatt could remember the grief and sadness that followed that day. His parents had believed what he said when he told them what happened, but that didn’t stop them from crying over and missing Walker. Wyatt did too. Walker was more than a brother, he was like part of Wyatt. Wyatt really didn’t know how to function without him so he did the only thing he could do, he made believe that Walker wasn’t dead. It took a while, but in time he convinced himself that when Walker’s spirit left his body it entered him. Now he and Walker were one and no one could ever take his brother away from him again.

  Wyatt never told anyone about it. The Walker he thought he had created in his mind told him not to. Walker said that it had to be their secret or he would go away and never come back. Wyatt promised not to tell and he didn’t, at least not for a couple of years.

  Tsa’li had begun teaching him the history of his people, and Wyatt couldn’t get enough of the old stories and legends. Inspired by the stories and wanting to appear special in Tsa’li’s eyes, he told Tsa’li about Walker. Tsa’li didn’t say that he believed or disbelieved what Wyatt said but told him to go home.

  As soon as Wyatt got home he went to his room. That’s when Walker came out. He told Wyatt that he was going to make him pay. Wyatt had broken his word and now he was going to be sorry. Wyatt begged him not to leave but he never got a reply. Walker was gone.

  But he was never with me, Wyatt tried to reason with the child inside him, the little boy who had wanted to believe that his brother had been with him. It was just childish imagination.

  Then another memory demanded attention, a memory of that long-ago mission when two of his men ended up mutilated and murdered. He mentally walked through the mission, once more experiencing the sights and sounds and smells. As always his memory contained a gap. He saw DJ and Fish with the woman, DJ’s hand holding the knife to the woman’s throat while Fish raped her. He saw the look of terror and helplessness on the woman’s face and the blood that ran from the cuts on her face.

  Then—nothing. No, not nothing, his mind told him. What about the rage?

  Wyatt closed his
eyes and allowed himself to sink into the memory of the past. He remembered the way he felt. His chest felt like it was about to explode with rage and his eyes burned like someone had poured acid into them. Then—

  His eyes flew open as the memory began to come back to him. Blackness closed in around him, blocking his peripheral vision. A coldness accompanied the dark cloud, cold that seeped into the bones and numbed the mind. Then he saw it.

  The shrill ring of the phone snapped him back to the present. He turned as Chance picked up the receiver. “Hello?… Yes, could you hold, please?”

  “Wyatt? It’s for you.”

  He walked over and took the phone from her. “Yeah?… Who is this?… Put him on the phone. I want to talk to him … All right… Yes, I understand. I’m on my way.”

  Cradling the receiver he turned and walked out of the room. Chance followed him to the back of the house. He entered his studio and knelt down beside an old trunk. “What’s going on?”

  After unlocking the thick padlock on the front of the trunk Wyatt pushed the lid open. “They have my dad. I have to go to him.”

  Chance threw herself down beside him and he reached inside the trunk. “Wyatt, no! We have to call Tom—Sheriff Smith, I mean. You can’t go alone.”

  “I have to,” he said as he pulled a long knife in a black leather sheath from the trunk. “They’ll kill him if I don’t.”

  “Then call the sheriff and have him meet you there. If he catches the men responsible he can put them in jail!”

  “I don’t have time,” he said as picked up a gun then changed his mind, returned it to the trunk and stood. “I have to go.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No!” He took her by the arms. “You’re not.”

  “Yes, I am!”

  “Chance, don’t push me on this.” He tried to speak calmly even though the rage was beginning to bubble in his belly.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go alone. I’m going with you.”

  “I said no!” he barked, unable to restrain the anger. “Do as I tell you!”

  Chance’s eyes were wide as she looked up at him. “It’s happening, isn’t it? Right now. I can see it on your face.”