Consequences

  Trying to conceal an involuntary gulp, I mentally berate myself for jumping to conclusions about our odd visitor. I don’t want Ann to think that her world is too much for me. I’m becoming attached to her; and I never want her to think, I can’t handle being a part of her life.

  Having my own reasons for not mentioning what I saw, doesn’t stop me from wanting to know more. “How do you know that wasn’t V?”

  “Simple … you could see it.” I scoff at her matter-of-fact tone. She is right; maybe being alien to her world has its benefits.

  Shaking my head at the irony of my inadequacies actually being helpful, especially when I’ve never felt more helpless, I walk into the cabin, so that I can put Lune to bed. Ann follows close behind, placing the bag with Lune’s pills on the table. Without looking at her, I can tell she is studying me. After releasing my burden onto the pillow closest to the wood burning stove, I scratch behind his ears and go to the kitchen to find something to make him more comfortable. Grabbing the paper sack off the table, and the jar of peanut butter off the counter, I prepare Lune’s medicine, and try to avoid looking directly at Ann’s probing eyes. Hiding two tablets in a spoonful of the gooey paste, I return to Lune and casually scoop the treat into his mouth. He thumps his tail on the floor as a show of thanks, while swallowing the glob of peanut butter whole. Standing up, watching him try to lick the last little bits off his lips and the roof of his mouth, I stretch my arms and try to rub the soreness out of my biceps. In the intensity of the moment outside, I hadn’t noticed the strain of the big dog’s weight … now though, I am starting to ache.

  “Here, let me help you with that … I was wondering how long you could hold a hundred pounds of awkward dead weight, before it took its toll on you.” Ann motions for me to sit at the table with her.

  As I take a seat in the chair across from her, Ann pulls my arms out in front of me and starts to gently dig her thumbs into the muscles of my forearms. It feels good, and my arms start to loosen up relatively quickly, but I still avoid looking into her eyes. I think that if I give into the questions on her face, she’ll become insulted and leave.

  Questions hang in the air: why are you suddenly so withdrawn? Why did you scoff outside, did I say something insulting? What did you see out there, anyway? What aren’t you telling me? How can someone diplomatically say: your world is driving me nuts, and I believe that I'm starting to hallucinate -- because being exposed to you, and your kind, would drive any sane person into the loony bin. No; I am not going to say that to her. So I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of her fingers touching my skin.

  She must have understood that my reaction means I don’t want to talk, because she doesn’t ask; even though, I can still feel the questions dangling between us. Ann’s soothing massage must have been unwinding more than my arms, because when Christopher surprises us by opening his door, neither of us responds by jumping.

  Coming over to the table, he flops down in one of the chairs, and casually drapes his arm over the back. No matter what he is trying to project in his forced, relaxed posture … we can easily see the strain on his face. He glances over to the sleeping dog, and sorrow crosses his expression, “Lune? Is he going to be okay?”

  Ann is the first to answer, and explains everything in detail. Christopher nods seemingly pleased … I can see the relief washing over his tense shoulders. Today, he only has to deal with losing one friend … and what a loss. For a moment we all sit sobered, looking at the giant husky as he sleeps peacefully.

  Without saying a word to Christopher, I get up and raid his freezer, looking for frozen soup broth. Finding what I am after, I dump it into a pot on the stove … he is going to eat whether he likes it or not. Giving the broth a chance to melt and warm through, I think it will be a good time to ask what we are going to do now. Apparently, I am not the only one that sees this as the opportunity to plot our next move.

  As I move back toward the table, I notice Ann pushing out the fourth chair in such a way that I am sure she is offering the seat to Cassandra. I am caught in the middle of the feeling of belonging to this unusual family, and the discomfort of being the odd man out. Ann must have picked up on my uneasiness, because I hear her voice echoing on the inside of my eardrums, “Sit, we need your input, your unique insight … I’ll speak for her, like before.”

  I nod and retake my seat, thinking how incredible it feels to be needed and wanted by this unlikely threesome. Christopher snorts and starts to shake his head, “Michael, man … you kept me alive so that I could fight another day … not only do we need and want you, we won’t be able to survive without you. I believe that, with every fiber of my being … so please, stop thinking that you’re an outsider, because frankly you’re depressing me.”

  I join in on his snicker; looking into his sunken eyes with their red rims, the sarcasm about me depressing him, is an irony that almost reminds me of the old Christopher ... almost. The light I’ve seen in his eyes, when he and Artemis found Ellie in their dreams, is almost completely gone. Instinctually, I recognize in him, a character trait that scares even the most hardened, law-enforcement official … he wholeheartedly believes he has nothing left to lose. And a man with nothing else to lose is extremely dangerous, to everyone around them.

  Everything suddenly becomes very clear as I look at his sullen expression … he woke up out of his comatose condition and came out of his room for one reason: he is going to avenge Ellie. When he said “we won’t survive”, he meant Ann and Cassandra; his survival isn't even on the table. He thinks he is already lost, not suicidal necessarily, just mortally wounded with only enough energy left to do one last thing … hunt down those responsible for Ellie’s murder.

  He is reading my expression as intently as I am analyzing his, and as I come to my conclusion, he nods his head. In some way, we have struck an agreement: I am to look after Ann, protect her … while he disappears. I don’t agree with that contract, and I emphatically shake my head in response. He smiles weakly, and I remember his immediate need for sustenance. Silent discussion abandoned, I get up to fill a bowl with soup, and grab a couple pieces of bread.

  Setting the food down in front of Christopher, I turn to ask Ann if she would like some, too. “No thanks … I would take another beer if you have one.” Then with a sly look, sliding her eyes between Christopher and me, she continues, “If you two are done flirting … could we, please, discuss what happened today?”

  Throwing her a look of mock insult, I break into a snort at the innocent expression on her face. Grabbing a couple beers from the fridge, I sit down and hand Ann one. “All right, back to business … first things first; do we think that V is going to return?”

  Christopher is only picking at his food, and in response to my glare, he shovels in a huge bite. Looking at me with a devious grin, Ann mutters something about being worse than a mother hen.

  While still wearing her smirk, she answers my question. “After seeing the damage that was inflicted … I don’t think V will ever be a problem again. If he survived … he’s curled up under a rock somewhere praying to fade away from the pain and humiliation.” I cringe a little at the elation in her voice … but it is understandable. I doubt anyone in her position could restrain their happiness over not being tortured again.

  Looking at the chair where Cassandra sits, I ask her opinion, being an impartial witness … then wait for Ann’s voice to enter my thoughts. “I’ve seen more powerful creatures waste away with less serious wounds. As long as he is unable to replace his lost energy, I cannot see him surviving his injuries; no.”

  “Then we are in agreement that any immediate threat has been eliminated?” I am trying to hide my own relief and excitement from my words … but the giddiness in Ann is contagious.

  Looking around the table, Ann speaks for herself and Cassandra with an enthusiastic “Yes!”, and Christopher simply shrugs while he focuses on the bowl in front of him. Ann, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, stares at Christopher … and I
can tell she is communicating with him.

  He slams his fists down on the table, and growls, “Out loud, Ann! I don’t care about V … he was a nuisance! Now, he’s no longer a problem. I took every bit of fight out of him … absorbed every bit that I will need to use on the Symboulio. I’m sorry to turn this into a bittersweet victory, but there is no time for a respite … V was only a very small piece of what is waiting for us. We’ve been stupid, Ann; Cassandra’s presence proves it. The immensity of her world … we’ve been so stupid to think it wasn’t any bigger than what we have seen thus far.”

  He shifts his accusing stare onto me, “You knew though, didn’t you? You have had an idea of the size, from the minute I told you about all this… the beauty, the horrors, all the potential … you’ve known, or at least suspected … didn’t you?”

  “Maybe, I did have an idea … or at least an impression of how vast and ancient their realm is. I never kept my awe from you though, Christopher. How can any of us understand that this is, possibly where we originated … they surpass time in folklore, did we create them … or like the stories foretell: did our consciousness, our souls, start there? Maybe, Christopher, instead of fearing what’s on the other side … or here for that matter … how about we accept that we are all part of the same primordial soup; we are all stardust. We are all capable of tremendous horror, and incomprehensible beauty. Perhaps if you look at it that way … you’ll let go of hate and accept that this is just another part of life.” Voicing my thoughts helps pull together my ideas, and seems to take some of the combativeness out of Christopher.

  Thoroughly surprising me with a smile that touches his lips, and then flows into a very strange laugh, he chokes out, “You sound like Ellie. When we first met she went on and on about an unconscious connection inside everyone and everything ...” still laughing with a bizarre desperation “…God, she would have loved you!”

  Ann places her hand on top of his and squeezes his fingers. In response to the affection he pushes his bowl away, crosses his arms, and puts his head down on the table, where he sobs quietly. Ann doesn’t let go of his hand, and we all sit, trapped in an uncomfortable silence, watching Christopher mourn.

  Muffled slightly, talking into his sleeve, he finally speaks … but without any of the previous rage, “I have to go where she died. I have to see if I can feel her … to say goodbye. I have to find the people that are guilty of doing that to her … I have to kill them.” No anger, no resentment, no overreaction … he is calm, making a statement based entirely on fact.

  “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I want to go with you. I know, I’m not talented like you or Ann … but I think I can help.” I am not requesting … I just know that helping Christopher is the right choice. At my brother's side is where I need to be … apparently on the frontlines of a one-man war. Well … two-man, now.

  Ann confidently adds her voice to our little army as well, “Cassandra wants to go home, and I may be able to give us some influence … being a member of the American council. We’re in, too … whatever you need, wherever it takes us.”

  Christopher rolls his face toward the sitting room where Lune and Artemis are resting. Artemis perks up as eye contact is made; she rises, slowly walks toward him and places her head in his lap. I hear him say, “So, I guess you want to come, too?”

  He raises his head and lowers his hand to her ears; Artemis lifts her nose and presses upward, covering the distance between them, finally making a connection with Christopher’s touch ... and mind. He sighs deeply as she enters his thoughts, and smiles again as he scratches between her ears. “All right, all right … let’s go outside and get some fresh air.”

  Christopher deliberately avoids eye contact as he stands; he has no intention of acknowledging our offers to join him. He walks stiffly over to the front door, opens it for Artemis, and follows her outside without another word to us.

  We all continue to watch him stupidly, waiting for him to recognize us, even as the door closes with a soft thump. Looking back at Ann, I ask both her, and Cassandra, what we are going to do if he doesn’t want our help … if he outright refuses us?

  I am getting used to the transition between Cassandra’s mute mouth speaking in my head using Ann’s voice, and watching Ann form her own thoughts on her lips. I don’t exactly know why I’ve accepted these people, or my role here, so thoroughly that I am willing to leave my life in Montana behind … but, I do know there is more than my infatuation with Ann at play. I have a need to protect this miraculous world, and the secrets that it contains … a compulsion I know all too well. It's the same as the one that has led me to such a healthy respect for nature, when I strove to become a warden as a younger man. Now that I understand a more complete reality, I can see this is exactly why I’ve been studying folklore for my entire life. I belonged here, I was always meant to be here, and nothing is going to stop me from fighting to keep it safe.

  “Michael? Are you listening?” Ann sounds concerned. Her silent inquiries from earlier are still bothering her, and she must have decided now is a good time to air them. “What has been bothering you? Christopher never should have brought you into this … he knows better!” I can imagine Cassandra nodding her head in agreement. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve seen, and been exposed to … but even if I could take it all back, I wouldn’t. Michael, if it wasn’t for you, Christopher would be dead, and I would be lost as to why. We need you … I need you … to help me figure out what to do next.”

  She knows my response, and reaction, toward what I’ve witnessed since I’ve met Christopher. Without waiting for me to explain myself, she has answered my thoughts concerning my own confused perceptions. Without her knowing for sure what I’ve been puzzled by, in particular what I think I saw in that strange wolf, she knows it is my worth and ability that I’ve been questioning the most. There is no need to skirt around my fears of insulting her; she saved me from inserting my foot into my mouth. I still don’t think I am able to see things as clearly as someone born to their world, with special talents … but I am ready and willing to embrace what I do know, without skepticism. So I nod, and ask what she thinks our next move should be.

  “First, I’d like to know what you think about Christopher’s state of mind. How much of a threat is he … to himself, and us?” She is all business again, and since she is speaking out loud, I'm pretty sure this is only a concern to Ann.

  “I think that a man, who feels he has nothing left to lose, is delusional and dangerous.” I state it as a matter of fact, not an insult; and Cassandra voices her agreement with my observations.

  In a mildly defensive tone Ann says, “Assuming that is what Christopher thinks … then we have to break that mistaken belief and force him to see that he is not alone. I think that we should stick close to him from here on out. We need to remind him that he has a family … and we need to protect him from himself until he finds a way to heal.”

  “That will be harder than you think … no one has absolute control over someone else’s soul; if he doesn’t want to mend, there is no way to force him. At this point, it would be like bringing life back to the dying; he has to find a reason to live. Christopher’s soul was freely given to Ellie, and she took it with her. The only person that could possibly heal him would be Ellie. We may never be able to provide enough support to someone who is as badly broken as Christopher is now.” I have been trying to find a way to identify with what Christopher has been through, and ultimately I keep returning to Lilly. Knowing that she is out there, alive and well, never to be with me … but alive; I can find comfort in her existence and the possibility of seeing her again. But, if she was killed … especially murdered … I’d be heartbroken and haunted forever. My attachment to Lilly is only a small degree as powerful as Christopher’s connection with Ellie … and I fear that he may be shattered beyond repair.

  “We can’t give up on him.” I can hear the pain in Ann’s voice, begging for me to give her a different answer.

&nb
sp; “I’m not saying we should give up on him … I’m just saying, be realistic. He may not want us around; because he thinks that we will interfere with his plans. Maybe we should just take it slow and talk with him first … let him believe that we have no desire to stop him from doing what he needs to do. We are just going to help him accomplish whatever it is, even if that means he plans to …”

  I let the thought hang there, because it is against my nature to finish saying it, so Ann finishes it for me. “… Even if that means he plans to kill himself afterwards.”

  I nod, and silence settles over the table like a thick blanket of clouds. We are in agreement, our silence binds our decision … and we all know it. This is what I wanted -- I hold an undeniable place in their world now … God, I hate it.

  Chapter 21

  Disbelief

  Our stillness created a spell that is broken by Lune stirring. With the pain killers in his system he isn’t uncomfortable, but his mobility is hindered by his drugged brain. I understand almost immediately that he must need to go outside.

  Leaving the ladies to continue their somber contemplation, I walk over to Lune. He doesn’t really need to be carried, but for the sake of convenience and speed, to avoid an accident, I pick him up and take him out into the night air. I can hear the soft rustle of Ann moving behind me … it appears that she needs some fresh air as well, or maybe, just a reason to move away from our last conversation.

  The bite of fall greets us with a cold breeze that cuts through my shirt. As my eyes adjust to the night, with the help of the soft light spilling from the front door that is still ajar; I can see Christopher standing about fifty feet away. He is watching Artemis run happy circles around his legs. Our bright furry friend seems to glow in the moonlight … her coat demanding attention as it glimmers in the gentle wind. The moon is peeking out and then hiding its face momentarily as wispy clouds drift past. It is almost full … casting radiance from the west, throwing long shadows, making everything seem hazy.