by Dennis Yates
He remained still and watched. A few breathless moments passed before there was an enormous explosion and the sides of the crevasse caved in, bringing down with it the bundle of dynamite yet to be ignited. But just before he turned to avoid the impending explosion, Robert heard a voice speak to him from some distant place:
We may need to live in the dark when it is absolutely necessary, but we must always return to the house of light after we’ve completed what was needed…
He ran back to the cave. Nugget growled at him, but when he got closer to her he reached out and she nosed his hand cautiously. Something had changed since he’d left to take care of the chopper, in ways that he himself was unaware of. Peggy was sitting up now and when she glanced at his face he saw it there to, her fear of him. Only when he crinkled his eyes and smiled at her in his secret way with her could he be sure she realized who he was, that he was still the man she loved.
“Don’t worry baby, I’m still me,” he said to her softly. He lifted her up in his arms and the entire party hurried deeper into the cave before the second explosion brought down a thundering avalanche of snow.
CHAPTER 65
They were walking on the beach, looking at things left behind by a crashing high tide they’d heard while still in their beds early that morning.
Robert kept in front of Peggy and Connor so he could turn and watch the excitement on their faces as they played a game of who could find the most sand dollars. Nugget quickly caught on to what they were doing and began to swipe the shells off the sand before they could reach them.
“That was mine thief!” Connor yelled. Nugget looked up at him and crunched the shell between her teeth, then turned to go find another. Connor ran to keep up with her, laughing as they fought for the next prize. Peggy tried to distract Nugget with a throwing stick, but the dog seemed too intent on munching shells.
Without these wonderful beings in his life, Robert felt he could have easily given up. It was their love that had kept him from surrendering to the cold arms of the void. They were the buoys in the fog who continually reminded him of who he was, who kept him from drifting off course.
Together they’d survived another nightmare. After they were flown back to Portland, Robert spent a week in the hospital being treated for his injuries, where the doctors were only cautiously optimistic he’d be able to fight off life-threatening infections. His fever caused him to slip into coma and it was hit and miss for several days before he regained consciousness. And yet he still wasn’t completely free of trouble. The fact that a police officer stood outside his hospital room told Robert all he needed to know.
On the day the doctors released him, Robert was loaded into an unmarked county car and driven downtown to appear before a grand jury. After spending two days answering questions he was finally acquitted of murder and released from jail. Then the press swarmed in, and Robert and his family packed in the middle of the night and left for the coast.
CHAPTER 66
Some days were still harder than others, but they seemed to be growing fewer with every passing week. Although the wounds on his body had mostly healed, the scars were like fading roadmaps of where he’d been, and sometimes if Robert happened to stare at them too long in the shower or when he dressed he would be seized by a profound anxiety. Sometimes the fear his family might be in danger was so real that he would search frantically in the cabin or out onto the beach for his wife and son and he would only calm down once he’d made certain they hadn’t been stolen from him again.
But he was getting better. He was certain now the storm had gone back out to sea and died like it should have the first time, after he and Will had rescued Robert’s father in Mexico…
He hadn’t tried using any of his powers again and he didn’t even care if he still had them. Nothing could change the profound understanding he now had of the world, and yet it seemed like he’d had glimpses of it throughout his life—brief partings of the fabric separating a reality he had grown cynical of, to a recasting of that same reality in a light that renewed his sense of wonder and awe.
The first had been going off to college. Later it was having Peggy and Connor come into his life. And now it was the sea where he felt it the strongest, far away from any red mountains…
CHAPTER 67
Back when he lay in the ice shrine receiving the secret knowledge from an unsympathetic ghost named Charlie Maynard, he’d gone far back into the chain of power, hundreds of years before Oman’s great grandfather was even born. It wasn’t like a simple filmstrip playing in Robert’s head but more lifelike in its holographic completeness, for it included all of his senses as well. He could spend as long as he wished in each place he visited, even several lifetimes trying to learn all he could about what had been imparted to him against his will. Yet after all his careful searching for a way in which he could rid himself of it he still found nothing that could help him.
He learned how the power had always resided in the island where Maynard learned the ancient craft, even before the tribe he’d lived with for many years first wrecked upon its shore. In fact it went back to the days before the molten crust of the earth began to cool, to the time when creatures fell from the sky in a meteor-sized ball of flame and how they’d melted into the liquid rock that would one day form an island…
Who they were, he did not know. But the consensus amongst all the shamans who’d traveled this far was that they were powerful spirits of energy. Shiva-like in their ability to create and destroy, they were neither good nor evil, but the essence of nature so concentrated it had drawn together a body, then later a single body divided into many bodies—like a rose with a billion fine petals, each one formed against the other, and meant to one day scatter on solar winds. This rose had traveled a long way through the void to find earth, and the question as to whether it been released from the hand or talon of some cosmic being would remain unanswered. Had it been a gift or a curse to humanity all depended on how the power was used.
The original tribe that washed ashore found the island bountiful in food and fresh water, and it was several generations later before the hidden power of the island had seeped fully into their bloodstreams. By this time their community had grown into the size of a small village. Some members who possessed the power began to use it toward darker ends, especially when warding off outsiders or committing acts of revenge against their own.
Problems arose when frightened tribes from other islands began to grow concerned about the threat of their neighbor. Stories spread quickly, mostly wildly exaggerated, and they had the effect of raising the overall panic to hit a boiling point. In a preemptive effort to protect themselves from what they considered to be an impending danger, many banded together and went to kill the entire tribe, sparing no one, and within a month’s time, the island appeared to be wiped clean of the hated “devil people.”
Unknown to their enemies, however, many of the so-called “devil people” managed to escape the island on the night the slaughter began. But they couldn’t leave in their longboats, for their attackers had already split them apart with axes. Driven instead by faith in their holy man’s promises, they gave themselves up willingly to the sea. Under a moonless night they’d walked together in one arm-linked mass beneath the crashing waves—a reef of humanity, at first drowning before realizing later they weren’t truly dead, waiting until memories faded throughout the chain of islands before some were able to rise from the surf and return once again to their land.
And that’s where the sea came in. Why Robert’s connection to it had greatly deepened. This was also behind the reason why he and his family had been renting a cabin for several weeks with no end in sight.
CHAPTER 68
They were sitting on the beach one evening when Peggy had first brought up the idea. Connor and Nugget were playing down by the water’s edge as the sun was setting behind a cottony bank of clouds. The air was chilly and smelled faintly of wood smoke and brine.
“We’ll stay as long a
s you want,” Peggy had told him. “Even if it means we enroll Connor for school down here this fall.”
“And what do I do about the shop?”
“You could drive into town a couple of days a week and check on things.”
“It wouldn’t be enough. There’s too much to keep track of...”
Peggy had put her arm around him and pulled him close beneath the blanket they’d wrapped themselves in.
“Just listen to me. While you were in the hospital, Will asked if I thought you might be interested in taking on a business partner.”
Robert stared at her, surprised.
“Will’s not interested in the shop. That must have been the morphine talking.”
“He’s serious, Robert. He’s come into a little money. He says he has a few ideas that could bring the place more business.”
“It’s not doing that bad…”
Peggy frowned. “But you know it could be better. Sure it pays the bills, but it won’t let you get away from it much.”
“But it’s where I’ve spent most of my life. I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t needed there all the time.”
“Your family needs you too. And you should be reaching out for your dreams again instead of feeling guilty about it.”
Robert thought about what she’d said. She was making sense. Even if it made him feel uneasy.
“Then I wonder why he didn’t say anything before about this?”
“I guess he was nervous about it.”
“Will? Nervous?”
Robert couldn’t deny the fact he already liked the idea. He’d known for a long time he needed someone else around to attract more customers, and Will had the magnetic quality that Robert desperately lacked. If he could free up some of his time, perhaps Robert could start reading more, maybe think about finishing his degree or take up painting...
Now that’s a wild idea to think about…
In his heart he didn’t know if or when he’d ever want to live in the city again. He didn’t want to stop listening to the voices he heard in the waves. Maybe some day he’d understand them. But he knew it would take patience and lots of time…
CHAPTER 69
The rescue patrol was amazed they were still alive when they dug them out two days after being buried by the avalanche. For one thing they weren’t even close to being dressed for it, nor did they have any food or essential tools to stay alive below ground for all that time.
Their rescuers weren’t offered any specifics as to how Robert and the others managed to survive, and their desire to ask questions wilted as they were overcome with the feeling something completely weird had just occurred. Why were their clothes so dry? Was that a healed gunshot wound in the woman’s back? The space inside the chopper suddenly began to feel constricting. No one talked much as they flew toward Portland.
****
A wave broke and speeded onto the beach. Robert, too lost in thought, was struck against the ankles by the foaming cold water before he’d even had a chance to react. He took a few quick steps inland before he knew he was too late. His shoes and pants were already sopping wet.
The greenish wave retreated, overturning rocks and shells beneath it. After the water had completely receded, Robert’s sneakers decided to squeak like a rusty hinge. But there was also the distinct sound of joy, and when he raised his eyes he saw Peggy and Connor doubled over, dropping sand dollars as they made no effort to rein in their laughter.
Stepping toward them Robert began to imagine himself as a circus clown. He lifted his knees high and made both of his shoes fart and squirt seawater. He didn’t stop until he and his family had collapsed on the sand laughing, until their sides hurt and Nugget ran over and shook water on them. Later, while they sat around the fireplace drying out and sipping hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, Connor took up his colored pens and captured the joy they’d felt on the beach that afternoon.
CHAPTER 70
There was something about the man that put him on edge. Was it the wry smile on his blistered lips, or the pale gray eyes working hard inside their notches of sun damaged, wrinkled skin? And then there were the hands to consider. The man’s hands were dyed with blood and his fingernails were blackened and chipped back to the quick.
Robert watched him remove another limp fish carcass from the gore-crusted pickle bucket. Slime ran down from the ragged piece of flesh and onto his wrist before disappearing beneath the sleeve of his threadbare flannel shirt. He carefully hooked the meat inside the crab trap and the disturbance caused several of the flayed fish already there to sway briefly with life. A stomach-churning stench rose from the trap like a small toxic cloud, and when it hit Robert and Connor their eyes watered and they had to turn their heads away to keep from gagging.
The man stood up, tall and bony like a scarecrow. He lifted the crab ring and set it in the small boat with Connor and Robert.
“Thanks.” Robert said. He revved up the small motor behind him.
The crab-baiter grinned and lit up the stub of a cigarette he’d been saving in the corner of his mouth. “One day you’ll get used to it too. If you’ve done it as long as I have.”
Robert looked into the man’s eyes once again. Whatever he’d seen there earlier was gone. Just a harmless old guy whose job was to bait the traps for the tourists, someone who probably snuck off when things were slow in the afternoon, to a place where he could drink a couple beers and catch some sleep. Someone who may have once lived in the city as Robert once had…
He didn’t have many bad days anymore. He spent hours each day combing the beaches with his family. Gradually they learned about the secrets only the locals knew, like the best places to fish from the jetty for perch or what kinds of storms brought to shore the most treasure. Some mornings after Connor had gone to school and Peggy was busy with projects of her own, Robert and Nugget would go exploring the entire day.
He learned to enjoy his time alone with his dog. He spent much of it meditating on the currents and waves, until it felt as if some primal part of him was finally in sync again after having spent so many restless years feeling disconnected, like a clock that’s forgotten its purpose of telling time.
He felt himself becoming whole once again. He’d made peace with the young man he’d been forced to abandon at college long ago, the one who’d been drawn to the world by a deep fascination and thirst for knowledge. When he watched the harvest moon rise over the coastal mountains to the east he was not afraid when he saw the ghostly shape of a red mountain swelling above the rest, as thin as a giant silk scarf billowing in the storm-scented breeze from the north.
Robert called Nugget to his side and together they walked off the beach, through the small town and into the dark woods that lay beyond.
THE END
About the Author
Dennis Yates (born 1963) is an American writer of novels and short stories. He is a native of Portland Oregon, and a fan of long road trips. He often dreams of the red canyons of the Southwest.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2011 Dennis Yates. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the
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ISBN: 978-1-937387-93-8 (eBook)
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