He thought of Tommy, the surrogate sun, and cursed his lack of wisdom that had made him a failure.
In his own bed again, wondering, he listened to the wind, heard faintly the cry of the dead calling for death.
And in the morning, after he had seen the brothers off to the village to notch another day at the tavern bar, after picking up after himself in bedroom and bath, he stood in the back yard and waited as Tommy ran awkwardly through the snow to him, dragging a sled still shining with varnish. Mars smiled, adjusted the peaked cap that covered the long blond hair, pinched the rounded cheek with his glove, and led the boy into the woods, up the slope to a narrow plateau where freshly cut stumps pockmarked the ground.
A makeshift shed euphemistically called a cabin stood bleakly at the far end of the clearing. It was missing a front wall, served as a storage area for the logs Mars cut twice each winter. Tommy scrambled from stump to stump, climbing, daring Mars to spill him into the snow. The old man smiled, encouraged the boy to play on his. own while he pulled a tarpaulin from a handmade toboggan and began loading the split wood, strapping each layer from front to back, finished with the canvas strapped side to side.
It was noon, and he was sweating, gasping, but not yet ready to give in to the aching that stretched his muscles and pounded through his lungs. He pointed out to the boy the peak where three hunters had lain wounded when a local man had gone berserk one evening in the tavern, escaped from the sheriff, and had done some hunting of his own. They had endured the freezing night unprotected except for their clothes, only one surviving to testify at the trial, dying shortly after in the county hospital.
"They saw the wolf," Tommy said solemnly, and Mars laughed, cuffed him on the back of the head.
"You never did tell me how that works," he said, deliberately light.
Tommy rubbed a black mitten across his nose and sniffed. "I told you. The wolf comes when somebody's to die."
"But no one's been killed, much less even scratched, round here in a hundred years. By a wolf, that is."
Tommy looked up into the old man's face. "The wolf doesn't do it, silly. Father says the wolf . . . I don't know. It just comes. I don't know what it eats, but it causes, not does."
"You know, maybe I should get to know your father better," Mars said, taking hold of the unraveling gray rope that was tied to the ends of the sled's steering bar. He waved the boy on, and they moved up past the cabin. "I haven't seen him in nearly two years to talk to properly. I hope he doesn't think I'm unfriendly. I just never got around to it somehow."
"He works in the city," the boy said proudly. "He comes home on weekends and sleeps most of the time. He's very tired."
Mars nodded.
"Mommy's sick all the time."
"I know, son. I heard about it in the village."
"She can't sit up like us. Her back hurts all the time."
"I know, son."
Tommy jumped off the sled, and Mars sighed gratitude as they trudged in tandem toward the run they had made the week before.
"You know something, Mr. Tanner, I think my father's trying to scare me with the wolf story. He said it comes all the way from our home in . . . in . . ." He stumbled silently, mouthing the name and trying to give it voice. Mars has learned early not to help him. Czechoslovakia was the boy's private problem. One of these days, Mars thought, he'll pronounce it right and we'll have a damn big party.
The snow crackled beneath them as they turned around, hissed like scrapping glass when Mars lay on the sled, Tommy climbed onto his back, and they raced down to the clearing.
Grinning and shouting, Mars sideswiped a log and spilled them both into a wave of snow that seeped down their necks like traces of ice. Lying with his face up, Mars squinted at the impossibly bright clouds, widened his eyes as a shadow darkened them, and saw the laughing boy hugging his face.
"Mars, I think I need you."
"My God," Mars said and clasped the boy to him, closing his eyes to keep them from emptying, opening them to see the wolf.
It was white to its tail, with glittering beads of snow and ice clinging softly to its unmatted fur, swinging as it moved silently around the edge of the clearing. Breath in turbulent rivers of misted gray snorted from its nostrils while it turned around and faced them, its ears upright, its head slightly cocked. It stalked, slowly, and Mars rocked, still chuckling in his throat, keeping the boy's face pressed to his chest. The white wolf circled, and Mars twisted on his buttocks to keep the animal from getting behind him. Snow flecked from the sky, veiling but not hiding the green eyes that were deep close to black in the creature's magnificent head.
A ghost or a god? Mars thought as he pulled his legs from underneath him and struggled to stand without releasing Tommy.
"Hey," the boy said. "You're hurting me."
"Maybe," Mars whispered, "but you're tough. You can take it."
"Sure," Tommy said and squeezed harder, laughing.
The wolf backed away when Mars steadied himself, watched as man and boy sidled toward the toboggan. It bobbed its head once, whipped its tail, and trotted off without looking back.
Tommy began coughing.
"You got a cold?"
"Same one I had last week."
"Come on," Mars said, swallowing to keep his voice level, "I'll get some warm soup into your craw."
"What does that mean?"
"It's a foreign word, son. Foreign to you, that is."
"I know a lot of foreign words, too."
"Good. Maybe someday you can teach them to me."
"When, Mars?"
"I don't know. Someday. Soon, I guess."
With the runners freshly waxed and the slope working with him, Mars had little trouble hauling the load of lumber down to the house. Tommy pushed from behind, calling out every few feet to be sure Mars knew he was helping. And when they parted, Venus handing him a pot of stew to bring to his mother, Tommy waved, stepped into the road, and was nearly struck by the car that raced out of the village and into the driveway.
"Goddamn it, you idiot," Mars shouted at Carter. "Why the hell can't you watch where you're going?"
Carter heaved his bulk out of the car and stumbled past silently, muttering nothings and leaving a waft of mixed beer and liquor.
Mars grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him around. "Where's Jonathan?"
Carter shrugged, shook the hand off, and staggered into the house, brushing past Venus without taking off his coat.
Cursing, then, his own thoughtlessness, Mars spun around, but Tommy was already on the first step of his own porch. He turned and waved, and Mars wanted to call out. He lifted a hand instead and sagged into the kitchen. Despite Venus's proddings, he remained silent throughout the evening meal, wondering what would have happened if Tommy had seen the green-eyed specter. It was a miracle he hadn't, and Mars was moved once to laugh at his suspicions of the divine. That he was frightened he wouldn't admit, not even to himself.
Jonathan was returned by two of Mars's friends just before midnight, and the three of them carried the unconscious son into the bedroom, making little attempt to keep their voices low since Carter was already asleep and would not awaken until his stomach decided it was time to empty.
The fireplace, then, and the aroma of burning pine while Venus went to work on some knitting of hers: a scarf she had started the winter before but hadn't the patience to finish when its perfection eluded her clumsy fingers.
"What is it, Mars?"
He looked away from the fire.
Thinking: McKenzie.
"I saw the white wolf today."
"You didn't." She set the yarn at her side and leaned forward with her arms resting trembling on her thighs.
A bubble of sap boiled.
"Bigger than life and twice as heavy. Damndest thing I ever saw in my life."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"We didn't believe there was such a thing, remember?"
"You saw it," she said. "It must be so. You ne
ver did have much imagination, Mars."
Thinking: three men bleeding.
"I think I was trying to get the boy to look at it."
Venus hummed nervously, then left her armchair for the sofa and curled her legs beneath her as she rested against Mars's unmoving arm. "Now you are imagining."
"You just said I never did, but maybe you're right, I don't know. I was thinking, though, that this thing, whatever it is, was never around before the Dovny people came."
"You saying maybe they brought it with them? A pet of some kind?"
Mars didn't know. From the time he had returned to the house from the clearing, he had been seeing movement in the corners of his eyes that escaped when he turned his head, white movement speckled green.
"O'Brien," he said without realizing he had spoken aloud.
"Hush that talk," she said, gliding a hand against his mouth until he kissed it and carefully placed it between his own. "All those men were just bums, flops, failures, and I don't mourn their passing. And that wolf is just a wolf and had nothing to do with them."
Sleet began exploding like glass against the house.
"One of these days it'll move out to the city."
"Into the city?" She laughed, gasping, incredulous. "Come on, Mars Tanner, can you really see that beast walking the streets of a big town? With no one doing anything but staring or running scared? In a city, Mars?"
He thought: as he had left the clearing with Tommy, one backward glance had been sufficient to note that the snow where the wolf had been pacing was clean. There were no depressions to indicate an animal of that size had walked a warning.
"Mars, you're frightened, aren't you?"
He watched the sparks like fire-rain raise up into the chimney. "Venus," he said, "we've done bad by our children. One we drove into the army, the other we just drove. I don't think we ever really knew how to be parents."
"We did the best we could."
It was a tired argument, one that usually left them not speaking for hours.
"I should have cared more, I guess, been more ambitious, but the store was good enough for me."
"They went to school, Mars. They learned things."
"Yeah," he said, scratching his stubbled jaw, "and blamed me for not doing the same."
A commotion on the steps forestalled her answer, caused her to straighten as if her sons would have been affronted by their parents' intimacy.
They came down into the foyer carrying suitcases and already wearing their overcoats. As Mars strode angrily toward them, Carter lifted a hand. "Don't say it, Pop, but we have to go. It's no good here, and you were right yesterday."
"The dear captain's going to get me something at the PX," Jonathan said.
"But why now?"
"Listen, Pop, there's no sense in our making it any harder on any of us. Some folks got the touch to do things right, and some don't We don't"
"What's the matter with your eyes?"
"I been drinking a lot in case you hadn't noticed. Just let us go quietly, and maybe one of us will write when things get settled. When we get the time."
Venus remained on the sofa, tilting her cheek to her sons' kisses, brief and without even momentary affection. And they were out the door before Mars could think of an appropriate farewell to forty years.
"Samantha," he said, his back to the room, "don't ever let anyone tell you that I didn't love you."
Suddenly there were shouts, and Carter came running back inside.
"Your rifle, Pop, where is it? Never mind," and he snatched at the weapon cradled in the wall rack in the hall. Mars hurried to the door, but Carter brushed past him, answering with a wordless shout the urgings of his brother.
"God," he said, stopping long enough to pull a box of cartridges from a breakfront and stuff the magazine. "You should see that animal, Pop. Biggest damn thing in the world."
"Oh, my Christ!" Mars said and ran into the kitchen, grabbed his coat, and slapped on his hat. Venus he pushed back into a chair as she tried to follow, and with a muttered "Samantha" rushed outside, nearly colliding with his sons who were standing on the edge of the porch. Jonathan had the rifle to his shoulder, sighting, waiting until Mars saw the white wolf trot unconcernedly from behind the spruce in the center of the yard. His son fired; the bright star flared from the barrel, and a puff shattered from the snowman's head. The three men descended to the walk when it was obvious Jonathan had missed.
"Never could shoot worth a damn," Carter said, grabbing for the stock, being pushed roughly aside.
"That will make a hell of a coat," Jonathan said, stalking now as the wolf padded from the yard to the slippery road. Immediately, lights in the Dovny house blinked on sporadically until the grounds were lighted with squares of pale sun. The front door opened and Tommy stepped out
Mars watched the progress of the wolf, unable to speak, dizzy from the cold that lanced at his face in droplets of sleet Tommy called out, waving, and began to climb down from his porch. Jonathan swung the rifle and fired again.
"The boy!" Mars shouted. "Goddamn it, Jon, watch the boy!"
"Shut up, Pop," one of them said.
Tommy had reached the bottom of the steps, was angling across the front of the house when the wolf broke into a run toward the corner nearest him. Tommy sprinted after it, and Mars, unthinking, ran across the road toward him.
Someone shouted and the wolf halted, gray now beyond the light.
Tommy clapped his hands and shouted encouragement as Jonathan moved to the center of the road and took aim.
The wolf moved, placing the boy between it and the rifle.
Mars, arms spread and mouth open, flung himself into the air.
Jonathan fired.
And in the silence echoing from flake to flake as sleet turned to snow, Mars sprawled on the ground, twisting his head from side to side as if searching for a door into a room without pain. He gasped as Tommy roughly rolled him onto his back, heard the careless shriek of tires as a car skidded, straightened, and bulleted toward the village. They'll never make the turn at the railroad, he thought
Distantly, he heard Venus screaming.
Into the snow he opened his eyes and saw Tommy kneeling beside him.
"You never ate the chocolate I gave you," he said through the sparks that wouldn't leave him be. "Probably threw away the stew, too." He arched his back and gasped. "Don't suppose I could get a second chance, could I? I could do better."
Tommy shook his head. His left arm nestled in the ruff around the neck of a white wolf. His right hand stroked the head of another. He bent his face closer to peer into Mars's face, and Mars saw the glimmering green in his eyes, feeding on his failure before he died.
"Daddy's home," the boy said. "You said you wanted to meet him."
Tales from the Nightside Page 23
