Pillars of the Moon

by French, B. J. ;

  "Wow!" I screamed, my heart racing a mile a minute.

  Without waiting for the light to change, I stepped on the gas and squealed my way through the intersection passing them. Glancing in the rear view mirror, I saw the black sedan do a U turn and follow us in pursuit. Zipping by the bus station, we zoomed over to Douglas Street and headed south toward the park. The rain had cleared the streets of any pedestrians, so we were clear to drive at a good pace. In the rear view mirror, I caught a glimpse of weaving headlights several vehicles back and wondered where the best place to try to lose them would be. Feeling the pressure of the moment, with a wounded and bleeding man in the back, my palms began to sweat, and I could feel my skin become clammy from the humidity in the car. The urge to head right for the police station kept tugging at me, but without knowing the consequence of the action along with the uncertainty of the prevailing circumstances; patience. Controlling my fear, and holding back the stress as best I could, I looked in the rear view mirror to Shawna,

  "Are you sure there is nowhere to go?"

  "These guys have been trying to catch Peter since Friday, and we have had to be very careful where to go here in Victoria. They have already hurt several of our friends trying to locate him. I thought you were one of them till just a few minutes ago. Peter had mentioned you at the museum in Vancouver, but was not all that sure that you weren't one of them."

  "Oh!" I replied a little insulted. "You know, it appears they have been following me as well. I am not sure exactly how long, but I think from before I left Vancouver, to come here. The guy we left back there in the alley, was on the ferry ride over and almost ran me off the road near Sydney on the way down town."

  'Now there's a thought.' I whispered to myself, wiping the condensation accumulating on the windows. Looking in the side mirror to catch a view of the cars behind us, I was just in time to see the big sedan pulling up beside us. With a quick pull of the steering wheel to the left, the pursuing car veered to avoid the collision and bounced off the curb of the oncoming lane. Stepping on the gas, with tires spinning on the wet road, we did a four-wheel drift around the corner onto Dallas Road. With the car back under control, the road was all clear ahead of us, and a chance to gain some distance. But as I looked in the mirror, the pursuing car had the same advantage and overtook a car that had pulled in behind us as we made the corner. The sedan closed the distance and was again at our tail, nudging us along with no more than several feet between our bumpers. Noticing the entrance to a parking area to the right side overlooking the strait, I prepared to pull to the right giving the car chasing us no option but to straddle the low curb dividers to the individual parking spaces. Timing it just right, I gave a quick pull to the steering and cleared the dividers. Sparks flew from the under-carriage and lower wheel yokes as to pursuer car scraped the cement curbs.

  "Good! With any luck the car will lose its oil pan and we'll be in the clear relatively soon."

  Swerving back onto the main road, I made a quick left up Moss Street and turned at the next corner, and then again at the end of the block. Back onto Dallas Road, we traveled further east to dark and ominous Ross Bay, as Tall waves crashed over the beach and smashed against the break-wall sending plumes of water and spray high into the air. The walkway and road had inches of water on them as the waves washed back toward the shore over the pavement. I slowed down to avoid hydroplaning over the surface and hoped we had lost the black car following us. Looking in the rear view mirror, I caught a glimpse of the car quite a distance back and wondered whether it was they; under the well-lit roadway along the shoreline, we were sure to be seen. Once through the wash area and approaching the winding hills of Crescent Road, I speeded up into hopeful obscurity. As we rounded a corner and crested the hill, I slowed down just in time to watch in my rear view mirror as the sedan started to hydro-plane out of control and get hit simultaneously by a wave as it washed over the guard rails and road.

  "Yes!" I screamed, slamming my palm on the dash. "Alright! We are free!"

  Turning the defrost fan on high to help with the condensation build up on the inside of the windows, I felt a weight lifted from me. Continuing down the dark roads by the shore and further reaches of Beach Drive, we continued out to Oak Bay.

  "How's he doing Shawna?"

  "I don't know. He is shivering and cold. We really should take him somewhere and get his wound seen to."

  She reached up and grabbed me by the shoulder. "Do you know of a doctor we could take him to who would look at him without reporting it?"

  Thinking for a moment and wishing to be on the main land where I knew several who would help in a moments notice, I could offer nothing.

  As we passed the old Victorian Oak Bay Inn, I could not help but think of Vincent and the fact that he knew of some of the goings on of the First Nations in the area. And I knew he was familiar with the Royal Museum here and worked at the University here in Victoria. Perhaps he would be of some help.

  "Have you ever heard of the name Vincent DaLima? He lives a short distance from here. He may be able to help us.

  Shawna thought for a moment and replied, "The name rings a bell, but I cannot honestly say I have. I don't think I have ever met him."

  I glanced in the rear view mirror at her and caught a set of headlights behind us. Feeling slightly panicked, I thought to myself 'It couldn't possibly be them'. Proceeding on at an even pace, we continued along Beach till we came to Haultain, where I turned left. The car followed behind us as we continued west. The roads were wet, and the reflected lights of oncoming traffic made it difficult to see anything clearly. Becoming frustrated with my foggy side mirror, I rolled down the window to wipe it clean. As we drove by Shelburne Avenue, I got a good look at the car, and sure enough, it was them.

  "Well, we have our friends back." I sighed to Shawna, who strained to turn her head and peer through the rear window. "They seem to be content with doing nothing at the moment other than following us. But one thing is for sure, we will have to lose them, and soon. This is starting to bug me."

  Easing my foot down on the gas a little more, we quickly proceeded to Cedar Hill Road, up to Hillside and out to the main highway to the Ferry. Trying to think of the best way to get rid of them safely, with no harm to us, the back roads of Elk Lake seemed the best. I had been there once or twice, and had found it quite delightful, but got lost. Speeding passed the little shack by the lake with the canoes, I pulled into the roadway by the gas station to drive around the back. Slowly, I eased the old Beemer around the building and out past the front by the pumps. Sure enough, they had followed me around the rear and were now out of sight behind the building. Shutting off my lights, we quickly headed down the small paved highway away from the gas station and the main road. Over the hill and out of sight in the dark, I watched in the mirror as they pulled up and stopped by the edge of the station. Not knowing which way we had gone, they just waited. A little relieved that my trick had worked, I began to wonder where the road was and came to the conclusion that in theory it had worked, but in the pitch dark, it was not at all practical.

  "Shit! I have to turn the lights on."

  On came the lights and in a flash the sedan was in pursuit once again. But now the roads were not only wet but also narrow and hilly; I had a sports car and a general idea as to where I was going.

  The way was dark and foreboding, with little for reference to indicate where the roadside ended and the gravel shoulder began. All that marked the way to success, or sheer disaster was an occasional tuft of grass or bit of rock. After several moments of roller-coaster riding and screeches from the back seat, the road seemed to smooth out to an open stretch with steady rain. The headlights in the rear bobbed up and down as the large sedan followed, but at a safe distance. With the end of the road coming up fast, I had to decide, Beaver Lake, or Prospect. Racking my memory, I tried to remember which would be the more promising. Prospect was a more dismal place at this time of night and would afford a better cha
nce of escape, but more treacherous roads headed back up to Brentwood past Butchart Gardens.

  "Prospect Lake it is!" On to the highway and an almost immediate right and we were on our way. As I drove along, I was hoping to see more to facilitate our escape, but every time an idea came to mind, I'd miss the corner almost ending up in the ditch, or sliding past the exit with all fours locked on the wet pavement. Speeding through the hamlet of Brentwood, I remembered a small road we had previously turned off on to go scuba diving in the Bay. By this time the persistence of our pursuers, close behind, was driving me to desperation.

  "Hang on Shawna. There is a small road up here that heads down to the water. I remember it from several summers ago."

  Locking all fours, I slowed down and allowed our followers to come right up to our rear. Stepping on the gas again, we pulled several hundred feet in front of them.

  "If I can time this right, they will be speeding up just as we make our turn. Hang on!"

  I cranked the wheel just as they were ready to ram us. Down we flew, only it wasn't as wide a road as I remembered it. Slick with mud and covered with cedar boughs and roots, it was very rough. Unable to stop on the steep mud decline, we shot down bumping up and down till the shocks were hitting bottom. Trying my best to stay in control, I got a glimpse of headlights coming after us.

  "Idiots! They must be nuts."

  "Yeah! You're the one that's nuts. They weren't the ones who turned down here. This isn't a road, it's a walkway."

  "Oh God!" I sighed looking ahead as the headlight illuminated the up coming event as if in slow motion. With nowhere to go, we sailed down toward two trees that lined the path on either side.

  "We're not going to make it." Shawna moaned from the back.

  Centering the car in the path as best I could, I took my foot off the brake and let it glide. Squinting my eyes just before impact, I prayed and watched helplessly as the advancing trees got larger and larger. Clutching my hands on the vibrating wheel and pushing my head back till it hit the rest, I took a breath and watched in slow motion as the front of the car bounced and tilted sideways. I heard a ripping noise and watched the mirrors disappear from my doors and a tug as the rubber trim came flying off the rear bumper. In shock, I watched as the bottom of the hill came racing up toward us, and at the last minute slammed on the brake and turned the wheel. Coming to a skidding stop, just feet away from an embankment heading down to the shore, we sat motionless. The sound of a loud thud and crashing, thundered down at us from up above. Shaking myself out of my stupor, I opened the door and eased myself from the seat and stood to face the hillside we had just maneuvered. About thirty yards up the slope, remnants of the front of the black sedan were strewn down the hillside with chrome pieces of headlights still bouncing at my feet. One headlight still intact illuminated the muddy path up to the lodged car. The dome-light in the sedan exposed two well-shaken individuals, slowly trying to mobilize inside the crumpled wreck. Turning back to my car, and ripping the remaining rubber from the bumper dangling loose, I climbed back in and started off slowly, down the shore road back toward Brentwood. No one said a word as we continued to the other side of the peninsula and Vincent's house. At one moment, I had an uncontrollable urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but remembered the plight of Peter in the back.

  "Is he OK?"

  "I don't know. I think he was the lucky one."

  Shawna just stared out of the window as we drove down the back road close to our destination. Pulling into a service road two drives down from Vincent's, it would be far enough away, that they would have a difficult time searching for us should they find the car. Reaching back into the rear seat with my arm around Peter’s back, I gently lifted and pulled him from the back seat. Within several moments, with Shawna lifting and pushing him, we were along the dark paved road. I supported Peter over my shoulder and half carried him along the way. He mumbled and staggered along semi-conscious. Shawna carried the green bag.

  SEVEN

  The driveway leading to the house was well lit from the spotlight mounted beneath the eaves of the garage. Silhouettes of the tree branches overhanging the driveway, reached toward us like fingers trying to clutch us and bar our way. The gravel crunched and rustled beneath our feet as we walked further up the drive closer to the light. Shawna, struggled to hold onto the slippery, green garbage bag, while I dragged Peter along, holding him beneath his armpits. He had lost a lot of blood and looked deathly beneath the strands of black, wet hair matted to his forehead. He was delirious and kept mumbling about the bag and how cold he was. Luckily, even with the dreadful trip in the car on the way here, the bleeding had stopped. Without knowing the safest place to go at the time of the night, Vincent’s seemed the best under the circumstances. All I'd hoped was that we could find a doctor willing to make a house call at the late hour and in these rainy conditions.

  We continued down a darkened path beside the garage to the back of the house and up onto the large cedar deck. A wooden lattice, and the stringy remains of hanging plants, obscured our view of the walkway for the most part. As we skirted a three-foot planter box, and stumbled up a second set of steps, the lights came on automatically to light our way. Through the window, we could see Vincent standing beside the fireplace; leafing through a book, he took no notice of the torrent outside. The family room looked warm and inviting compared to the extreme weather-conditions we experienced on the deck. By his feet, Lilly sat patiently, her head tilting from side to side as we approached the back door; even with the loud sound of the rain thundering on the roof, and then running down in torrents onto the deck, she was still able to hear the shuffling of our feet. She barked furiously as the lit doorway exposed us through the glass. Shawna tapped lightly on the pane while Vincent, realizing someone was on the back deck, edged his way past the furniture to the window to view 'the sorrowful threesome' outside. Standing drenched beneath the vine arbor, he recognized me after a few glances and opened the glass door to let us in.

  "Brian! What on earth are you?" He stopped short seeing Peter slumped over and semiconscious, his hand upon a pink-stained cloth at his side.

  "I know this man. What happened? Come sit him down over here." With a wave of his hand, he directed us toward the couch. Realizing the seriousness of the circumstance as we edged Peter to the couch, "I'll call for a Doctor."

  I raised my hand as if to stop him, but he already knew.

  "It's alright. He is my neighbor and just lives several houses down."

  Nodding my head in approval, as if there was ‘a choice’ in the matter, I looked around to see what there might be to help Peter get warm. Grabbing a loose blanket folded on the back of the armchair, I gently eased Peter down. Shawna removed his shoes and managed to ease him out of his soaked jacket, then laid him down and lifted his feet up on the end of the armrest to keep them elevated. He was holding his side where the bullet had hit him and gave a grunt as we shifted him to wrap him in the blanket. Lilly sat in the corner peering from beneath her wispy brow; she didn’t utter a sound and watched as Vincent donned his coat, raced out the back door and then across the deck and out of sight. Vincent had barely left when June came rushing into the room in her housecoat and slippers, a little dazed at the commotion and the sight of the three of us.

  "Where's Vincent?" she asked slightly panicked.

  "He has gone to fetch the neighbor." I replied calmly pointing in the direction across the deck he had disappeared to.

  "Who? Larry!"

  "I would presume so, a doctor." I said with a smile.

  "Oh yes! Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked in a bit of a tizzy.

  "No June, thank you, everything should be alright."

  Embarrassed at the condition of her floor, water lying in pools on the reddish clay tiles where we had stepped, I watched sheepishly at a diminutive puddle growing beside the plastic bag. "I am so sorry about all of this. There was nowhere else to go, that we could think of, and I desperate
ly needed to talk to Vincent."

  "Oh that is alright, Mr. Alexander. We were sure we would see you again, but not so soon!"

  I could feel the color come to my face as she smiled, and I was convinced we had made the right decision. "Thanks, June." I looked to Shawna, who was holding Peter’s hand, on his chest.

  "You're welcome," June replied. "Now, allow me to get you some dry things and we will clean up some of this water." As she cleared the archway to the open kitchen, she turned back, "I'll put the kettle on for a hot drink." Lilly scurried after her. June was back within a moment distributing towels, fleecy cotton shirts and multi colored shoulder blankets, and gone again as if a mini tornado had done a swirl in the room and blown right back out dropping its refuse as it passed.

  Shawna, sitting beside Peter, lifted the wet blouse and sweater from her body in one sweeping motion, dropping them to the floor without a notion to her exposed nakedness. I hesitatingly took her wet things that lay at her feet and handed her a large white sweatshirt and the shoulder wrap. She looked up at me and smiled in appreciation as she slipped the sweater over her head, then turned her attention back to Peter. I turned away, a little embarrassed at her candid indifference and helped with cleaning the water that trickled between the cracks of the tile.

  On my hands and knees with rag in hand, I worked my way from the couch toward the door in a sweeping motion to where the green garbage bag lay. Feeling a little faint from the exhaustive activities of the day, I stopping and closed my eyes, right there on all fours. A scene flashed before me of glaring headlights of cars with people milling in circles about them. Tremendous clatter and yelling almost deafened me as I walked through the center of the calamity. I feared for my life.