Fate’s Peak

by Scott Volentine

  As William surfaced out of his sorrow, he knew he needed to lay the wolf’s body to rest before he could climb the mountain. He felt better when he turned his attention to the task of preparing a grave, picking himself up and going to the pile of rubble blockading the road at the base of the mountain. He found a place where a layer of rubble had filled in between two wind-scarred columns that had toppled over, and he started clearing the rubble out from between the columns, building up a sweat as he hollowed out a hole in the pile.

  William retrieved his sack and unwrapped it to find it filled clay shards. I broke the pitcher… how can I go on without water? He groaned, dumping the shards on the ground and unfolding the cape. He walked to the wolf’s body and spread the stained, white cloth out next to it, then he lifted the furry corpse onto the cape and wrapped it around the wolf. Hoisting the bundle up in his arms—the wolf’s legs dangling out of the wrapping—he carried it to the ruins and set it inside its grave. He brushed a tear away from his eye as he looked at his departed companion. “Thank you, boy… You were a gift from above. I would not be here if not for you… You sacrificed your life so I could fulfill my mission.”

  A sob wracked through William’s body, aggravating all his aches. As the tears dried up, he continued, “The loyalty you showed… I will try to be like you. Though I lay your body to rest, I swear you will always live in my heart.”

  William proceeded to cover the grave with rubble, lingering a moment before he sealed it; all he could see within the grave was the wolf’s paw, concealed by the shadows. After he set the final slab over the grave, it blended into the whole pile of rubble. He turned his back on the grave, picking up his sword as he started hiking up the mountainside.

  As William climbed higher, the earthen slope brought him to a protrusion of stone that angled sharply upward. He paused to catch his breath and looked up the craggy mountainside; the rockface rose a dozen meters, separated from the succeeding rockface by a narrow band of dirt. An earthen trail led up the slope along the edge of the rockface, so he resumed his hike up that path. As he climbed, he cut back and forth to follow the trail of packed dirt around the inclined rockfaces. His progress slowed as he felt an acidic burn in his hamstrings and he had to pause to catch his breath, leaning against a boulder wedged between opposing rockfaces. When he continued, he established a pace his body could handle—a step when he inhaled, a step when he exhaled.

  William felt his recent sorrow shed off his back as the physical exertion forced him back into the Moment, dimming the light on his memories. As he ascended past a crag of black rock, he felt a jolt and it was like a spotlight shone through his mind, illuminating the field where he and the wolf had spent an afternoon—the wolf galivanting through the rain, barking up at the clouds, and William responding with shouts of his own. Remembering the happiness he had felt then, his spirit started rising to the challenge his body faced.

  William increased his pace but only climbed ten meters before his lungs felt ready to burst. Ahead of him, a flat ledge projected from a rockface, so he stumbled over to it and slumped down, gasping for breath. So much for overcoming my body’s limitations. As his breathing calmed, he shifted his attention outward and saw the ruins stretching out to the plain below him. The view gave a clearer idea of their organization pattern; though it had been altered by the collapse of the city, he could intuit the circuit it had once formed.

  The rubble was densest in the center of the ruins, where huge buildings had collapsed into mounds, and avenues spread outward from this sector like the spokes of a wheel. These avenues cut through roads that curved in concentric circles through the ruins, and they led all the way to the fringes where the rubble was minimal—the avenue leading to the mountain the one exception. William layered his pseudomemories of a city over the ruins below to conjure an image of what it had looked like when the buildings stood tall and people scurried back and forth along the streets. The sea of Life that had swirled through the city frightened him, but he thought it must have been marvelous.

  William breathed easy again so he turned his attention back to the mountainside, trying to judge the best path to follow. Thirty meters to his right, he saw a clear path that zig-zagged past the various stone outcroppings, leading up the mountainside as far as he could see. He picked his way across the slope, careful not to lose his footing as he traversed a steep rockface, and stepped onto the path. He hesitated a moment, noting how the trail was worn down as if someone passed this way frequently, their boots compacting the dirt. But, without water to refuel him, he had to conserve as much energy as he could, leaving him no choice but to follow the trail. He flexed his fingers around his sword’s hilt as he resumed the climb.

  The ruins fell further away, the mountain’s shadow stretching over the rubble as the Sun sunk through the sky. As William rose higher, his throat became scratchy, his tongue felt like a dried slug and his chapped lips started cracking. He craned his neck to look at the storm swirling around the peak and cried, “Where is the rain?”

  William caught his breath as he heard the sounds of Life floating down from above him. He came to a halt and strained his ears to take in the sporadic melody of a man’s abandoned singing. How can anyone be merry in a place like this? The singing persisted in stops and starts, and a curious glow filled William’s gut. He scampered towards the melodious voice like a bee to nectar, letting his guard drop as he drew nearer.

  A wooden shack appeared above a jutting rockface, nestled against the mountainside. William followed the path up to the shack and saw a rickety porch spanning its front. A window hung open, from where the song flowed, but the door was shut. Without thinking, he walked up to the door, the porch creaking under his feet, and he knocked. The singing ceased, replaced with grumbling and shuffling. William leaned his sword against the shack, and a second later the door flew open, missing his face by centimeters. A scrawny man with short, unkempt hair and stubble on his dimpled face, his jeans worn down and his T-shirt stained with dirt, stood at the threshold with his arm extended into the air.

  EIGHTEEN

  The hermit pursed his lips as he studied William. “Well, what took you so long, man?” he grumbled. “Come inside; can’t keep the door open forever.”

  William stepped inside the shack and the hermit slammed the door shut, rattling the bare walls. He scurried past William to an oaken table pushed against the side wall and picked up a bottle. “Want some rum?” he asked over his shoulder.

  William stepped closer to get a better look at the bottle. The liquid within it had an amber hue in the dim light of the room, and it kept sloshing against the sides of the bottle as it swung in the man’s hand. Why is he moving so much while standing still? The hermit cleared his throat, so William nodded his head.

  The hermit filled a glass on the table and handed it to William, who took a whiff of the rum: sharply sweet, almost sour. I doubt this will quench my thirst. “Water?” he rasped. “I need water.”

  The hermit grinned at William. “So you can speak. Righto, water you say? I got you covered, man.”

  He bustled through a door in the back wall and the next room lit up fluorescent, revealing white laminate flooring and cabinets along the wall. William heard glass clinking and the sound of running water. What is this place? He scanned the living room: light from the kitchen fell over a floor littered with dirty clothes and discarded bottles, and the floorboards that were visible were covered in dirt; across from the oaken table, a red couch and a blue chair that were draped with dirty clothes were set around a coffee table that was crowded with more bottles, half empty, and crusty glasses; and a stone fireplace dominated the far wall, a stack of logs within it and the hearth covered with junk.

  The hermit walked back into the living room with a cup of water and laughed at the look on William’s face. “Yeah, man, didn’t your tour guide tell you?” He handed the cup to William, who started gulping down the water. “I know my home doe
sn’t look so amazing on the outside, but, man, you gotta come inside to see what it’s all about!”

  “Where did this technology come from?” William asked when he had drained the glass.

  “Man, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you!” The hermit laughed but then his face grew sober. “I salvaged most of this junk from the city, refurbished it up here. Flies don’t come up this high. As to how it works, the stone at the heart of the mountain conducts an electrical current up to its peak, so I rigged a system that taps into that energy. That’s how the whole city used to be powered. But that stuff’s boring, man. Come on.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I used to live in the city! God dammit, man.”

  “Are you… are you a god?”

  “Fuck that shit, man! What does it matter anyway? I’ve been all around, believe me. It’s all bullshit!”

  William staggered back and took a moment recomposing himself. “Could I have more water?”

  “Hell yeah, man, help yourself to as much water as you want!”

  William wandered into the kitchen and glanced around to get his bearing. A refrigerator hummed in the corner and a counter stretched away from it, covered with dirty dishes, some growing mold. A microwave with its door hanging open sat on the counter near the sink. He fiddled with the faucet until he spotted its knob, and when he twisted it a spout of water flowed into the sink. He filled his cup and chugged it down; setting the cup on the counter, he turned off the water and returned to the living room.

  William found the hermit sprawled out on the couch, but his attention gravitated to the glass of rum he had left on the oaken table. Is that why he was singing? Retrieving the glass, he picked his way across the cluttered room and slung a shirt off of the chair. When he sank down into it his whole body seemed to sigh. The hermit started snoring on the couch, and William knew he could fall asleep where he was. What am I supposed to do here?

  “Excuse me!” William said.

  The hermit jerked awake with a yell and tumbled off the couch into a heap. He peaked over the rim of the coffee table, a wild glint in his eyes. “Who set off the alarm?”

  “I do not mean to disturb you… but I need to ask you some questions.”

  “You disturb me… no, man, it’s like… yeah! What was I thinking, this is the time to be awake.” The hermit frowned at the coffee table, but a smile returned when he looked up at William. “You haven’t drunk your rum yet.”

  William stammered an apology and raised the glass to his lips, swallowing a mouthful and sputtering as his throat caught fire. The hermit laughed and laughed, rocking on the floor. “Say! I know you and me haven’t formally been introduced yet.” He grabbed a half-filled glass from the coffee table and drained it in one swallow. “But we already shared drinks.” He belched. “Keeps the flame going. Drain your glass, man!”

  “The flavor…” William grimaced. “What is this drink?”

  “A sign of friendship. Drinking it is like signing a seal of comradery…” The hermit’s eyes misted over. “I know the shit really hit the fan, but god dammit, man, I tried. And I’m still here! And now you’re here! So let’s drink to the ghosts, hey! Let’s drink to the flies! What say you, friend?”

  William steeled himself and gulped down his rum, feeling its warm tendrils tingling down to his stomach.

  The hermit cheered and clapped his hands. “Listen to this, man. I’ve been cooped up here for so long. I can’t even remember the last time I had any guests (not that I can remember yesterday, thank God) so, man, I don’t think I ever planned for this, but I probably did. Who knows? Listen to me rambling on. What I’m trying to say is like, this is inevitable, you know, that we’ll be friends, or whatever!”

  William nodded. “I could use—”

  “You and me, drinking together! There’s no use denying destiny, man. Oh boy, I can tell you about that. It’s like, you step outside after a hard rain, you slip and slide through the mud, hurtling at, let’s say, ten meters a second. Pretty damn fast, man. You could slide faster if you took a running start. Not that I’ve tried that before. Doesn’t rain much around here, not even with that weird storm up there. But, let me tell you, it would be fun to slide through the mud.”

  “That’s destiny?”

  The hermit’s head cocked upright. “Shit, yeah, man! It is what it is. You just have to do it.”

  “I… think I understand.” William scratched his head. “If there is no rain to make a mud slide…”

  “That’s beside the point, man! But close enough. Whew! Now that’s out of the way, let me introduce myself. Let’s see… I think my name’s Tim. I’ve had so many, I don’t really call myself anything anymore. Trying to remove myself from that scene. But, you know, it was more like they removed me. Total bullshit. Of course, they had a different name for me. But that was the old me, so let’s just stick with Tim. What’s your name, man?”

  “William.”

  “William! Let’s have a toast!” Tim leapt to his feet and grabbed a half-empty bottle of clear liquid from the coffee table. “Vodka,” he said as he filled William’s glass. Tim refilled his own glass and perched on the edge of the couch, raising his glass to William. “Here’s to new friends!”

  William raised his glass, tears sparkling in his eyes. “New friends… so soon.”

  Tim clinked his glass against William’s. “So late.”

  Tim sighed and tried to conceal it by gulping down his vodka. William took a sip and found it went down easier, the liquor glowing brighter in his stomach. He took another sip.

  “It’s getting dark in here,” Tim said. “Let me get a fire going.”

  Tim stumbled towards the fireplace and sat on the hearth, groping around until he found a brass key. He inserted the key into a slot and twisted it, then he unscrewed a jar and pulled out a book of matches. Striking a match, he tossed it onto the logs and a blue flame whooshed up, settling down into an orange glow that poured out over the room.

  “I never could build a fire,” William said.

  “Shit, man,” Tim said. “You should take one of these with you everywhere. Electric fire! Imagine what you could do!”

  Tim sealed the matches back into the jar and leapt over the coffee table, kicking a bottle onto the floor as he landed on the couch. He squirmed around to face William. “Nailed it!”

  “Did you mean to do that?”

  “Mean to do what? Hey, man, the party’s starting! Haven’t been to one in years… You ever meet that fellow who wanders around down below?”

  “Is Death your fellow?”

  “Hey, don’t get so glum. Take a drink and liven up!”

  William gritted his teeth. “He killed my companion.”

  “Bum luck, man, but more reason to get drunk! You need to loosen up. Don’t make me do all the talking.”

  I wonder how much trauma he has experienced in his life. Are these drinks medicine to dull the psychic pain? William recalled the haunting beauty of the song Tim had been singing before he knocked. Is that how he vents his trauma? The melody of his words had called to his spirit, promising an escape from the horror of his brief life. He wanted to build new memories as a defense against his past, so he decided to follow Tim’s lead.

  William drained his glass as Tim grabbed a different bottle from the coffee table, the liquor within sparkling golden in the firelight, and filled his glass. William held his out to be refilled and a grin sparkled in Tim’s eyes as he filled the glass to the brim. “Better not spill any o’ that whiskey. Shit’s been running sparse. Listen to this, man—no, listen, god dammit. Will! Let me tell you what it’s all about.

  “I’ve been operating this smooth business, you know, call it reclamation. You saw the ruins down below? Think they’re just like, a pile of rocks ’n shit? But what you don’t see, man, what you really don’t see, is underground. Get it?” Tim
hooted with laughter and William sipped his whiskey to avert his eyes. “Who else but ol’ Tim would think to look in the basements? Whole mazes of shit down there, man, you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve found. Gotta admit I’m a certified genius, like one hundred percent. Are you following me?

  “Well it doesn’t matter but god dammit you better be listening to this, man, cuz it’s the secret to my success. Hard to maintain a standard of living after… y’know. Ragnarök really sneaks up on ya. Like, you hear about the shit hitting the fan, but everything’s still groovy. People’re like ‘Not my problem.’ Then a couple years later the whole shebang’s gone rotten.

  “Should’ve listened to me, man. You know what it’s like, tryin’ to talk about the rot of the golden years. Everyone thinks you’re mad. God dammit, man, I was just tryin’ to help, but I guess in the long run it worked out because that left all this rum ’n vodka ’n whiskey ’n you-name-it for me. Like I said, in the god damn basements, man. You never woulda looked there, but I did. And damn good thing. Otherwise all this shit woulda gone to waste.”

  Tim leaned back into the couch and took a sip from his glass. “But, man, shit’s changed down there. The other day I went on one of my reclamation trips, and you wouldn’t believe it but, man, ran into a fucking tiger down there. How weird is that? I was thinkin’ like, first animal I’ve seen in forever, not counting all those flies. Man, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you about those god damn flies. This is where shit gets real so you better buckle up, man.

  “Those little fuckers, man, they’re like the grand unification principle in effect, y’know? The first thing anyone should know is everything’s bullshit. What is bullshit, though, man? It’s like the nectar to the flies. But there ain’t any bulls left to shit. So what keeps drawing them out? You gotta admit that they sure like eating bullshit, those flies. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen that, but trust me, man, that shit will start a riot.