As the elevator doors slid open, I was relieved to see no one was in this parking lot. Lifting the heavy sliding doors that led to the alleyway behind the building, I could hear the sirens and radio chatter, but no one was waiting. I decided to go in the opposite direction from the flashing lights, traveling up the alley for several blocks, beyond where I was sure I was safe. Ducking back out onto the strip, I realized that in my anxiety-induced haze, I’d actually passed my own apartment. Uncomfortable about heading back in the direction to the old man’s hotel, I walked as casual as possible until I was safe at home."
Christopher pauses only momentarily before he starts speaking again, "Lune greeted me at the door with a bow; and then smelling, I don’t know, maybe the fear or blood … he ran from me and hid behind my bed. I should have known then that things were only going to get worse from there.
“Finally losing my composure, I headed for the bathroom and threw up. Only then, did I finish a total clean-up job on myself. I stripped off all my clothes. Naked, I picked everything up off the floor, including the blood-stained shirt I'd removed at the penthouse, and tossed it all into the fireplace. While that roared to life, I climbed into the hottest shower I think I’ve ever taken. I was hoping to scald away the memories of the night.”
I take advantage of the pause this time by saying, “Wait a minute though … you didn’t actually pull the trigger on anyone. What you did do, was controlled by V, through some kind of irrationality. How can you still think you’re responsible?” I listen patiently, and I try to look at what he went through unbiased … try to look at it from a law-enforcement perspective.
Continuing to try and ease the intensity of the atmosphere, I tell him, “First of all, like you said, you didn’t make that sniper do anything he was already prepared to do. The man was a killer for hire; he did just what he wanted to do … kill for a paycheck. Forensically, on a scientific basis … even if you turned yourself in, and confessed your involvement, they would laugh you right out of the precinct. I know what you saw was terrible, and what your influences led to was disturbing … but ultimately you weren’t the one actually taking a life.” I care about the kid, that is a fact, but I am not predisposed to let my feelings interfere with rational thoughts. The kid didn’t actually kill anyone.
“I hold myself responsible. How could I not? I understood exactly what my involvement would lead to … and instead of saving life, I pushed the situation right in to a bonfire. Influenced by V or not, I was the one who changed the sniper’s orders, and I was the one who pushed James into his tantrum. The worst part of that night, came after I stepped out of the shower."
"You have to understand … there are side effects to functioning with endorphins running for that long: primarily the exhaustion, when they wear off. While in the shower, I started to calm down … reasoning through the events. Would anyone identify me from the lobby? No, the few people standing around were distracted by the sound and looking at the holes in the glass, not even noticing me. Security cameras were shut off by the gunmen, a momentary malfunction while they killed me.
"By the time I climbed out of the shower, I wasn’t able to stand any longer. I managed to make it to the bed, where I collapsed. Lune climbed up next to me, obviously happy I no longer smelled scary, and curled up against my side.
"Have you ever thought you had woken from a dream, but you were still trapped in sleep … paralyzed, unable to move, panic smothering you? My muscles refused to answer; I couldn’t even roll over from the uncomfortable position I’d folded into when I fell on the bed. Within ten minutes, I could feel my hips and back starting to ache, and then I couldn’t feel anything, as I slipped into unconsciousness.
"I’m not sure how long I lay there, not moving. When the screaming started echoing in my head, at first, I thought I was having a nightmare … reliving James’s tantrum that led to his father’s death. Then the stabbing pain in my back made itself known, and my head started to pound. I was able to open my eyes and finally roll over into a better position, easing the knots in my back and side … but that was all I could do.
"Laying on my back staring at the ceiling, I cringed listening to James screaming incoherent insults at V. I realized V had no power over me, for now … emotionally, I was completely numb, indifferent, broken. When V’s question came at me through his hollow gasp of a voice, I barely had the strength to answer … what did I want to do about James? James had turned against me, and then put me in danger because he couldn’t control his temper, now he was determined to force me to injure myself. Even if that meant screaming and forcing his poisonous emotions on me forever, until I took my own life in order to stop the noise. Without even trying to sit up, I told V to kill him.
“Either trying to hide, or seek out mutual comfort, Lune wedged his head under my neck as the guttural screaming started. This wasn’t anger, or a whining tantrum … I lay there paralyzed and listened to James’s death wails, as V destroyed him. Like a cat playing with his catch, V was in no hurry to give James an easy escape.
“I didn’t want to touch either of their minds intentionally, or accidentally, so I tried to focus on Lune’s breathing and the hot air he was blowing on my neck. After, what I assume to be, about twenty minutes, I couldn’t keep the bile flowing up the back of my throat. I didn’t know when I ate or drank anything last … it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because I would have thrown it all up when I came back from the hotel slaughter. With nothing to dilute the stomach acids now entering my mouth, all I could do was turn my head to the side and gag. Slowly turning the rest of my body to the side and pulling my knees up into a fetal position, I covered both Lune’s and my head with a pillow. Listening to my own muted sobs, I slipped back into unconsciousness.”
Christopher’s expression changed into a mask: slack, pale, and tired … sweat speckled his forehead. I didn't press for any more answers; I know none will come. I walk over to the pen and place the bird in Ursa’s bowl, hoping to tempt her into eating it … she has to keep up her strength for Artemis now. As I turn back to the table, Christopher has left. Curious, I walk back and pick up our mugs, placing them in the kitchen sink, while watching him slowly slide into his room, and close the door with a soft click.
Chapter 8
Growing Pains
*Christopher*
Opening up to Michael, and exposing the fragile underbelly of my broken psyche, brings about an exhaustion that rivals the side effects of V's manipulation. I hate that I may have ruined Michael’s opinion of me. Hurting my friends seems to be the norm for me, anymore.
“Apparently, so has self-pity, Christopher.”
“Ellie, where have you been? If you had been here, maybe I wouldn’t be in the condition that I am now.” My words are partially muffled by my pillow as I lie down on the bed.
“I can do nothing to ease the pain of your choices. You have to accept them, good and bad. They were decisions that you brought into being … the happiness, as well as the pain, and the consequences are yours alone to endure.”
My eyelids are growing heavy; drained of energy … all that is left to feel, is shame. Embarrassment, over what I had allowed to happen, burn my tear ducts. I haven’t finished telling Michael the entire story. I told him how I hid from the horror of James’s death like a coward, but I neglected to tell him that I didn’t regret pulling the trigger leading to James's excruciating end. I had become completely indifferent, reduced to the sociopath that James wanted me so badly to be. Lying there, on that bed in Vegas, unable to move, unable to withdraw from what I’d seen, I realized, I had no more connections to the world outside the ethereal veil ... and I wished for a death that might return me to Ellie.
Back in Montana, before slipping into unconsciousness, I hear Ellie’s voice one last time, “Are you so ready to feed yourself to the wolves … just promise me that you’ll finish telling Michael everything. You need to tell the whole story, Christopher, and then maybe you’ll actually be able to accept that what you acc
omplished in the end was right. Maybe you will realize that you can forgive yourself … that in the end, you tried to make the honorable choice. You’re only human.”
It isn’t until her voice starts to fade that I notice she hasn't been touching me, there were no sparks preceding her words. I write it off as maybe I am asleep, or perhaps I am just imagining her voice. Luckily, Michael is going to be here until tomorrow, and then he will have to report back to work.
Thankful for his help, I let the waves of shame take me under, for now. Yes, that is what I need to do, fold myself into sleep and allow my subconscious deal with how exposed and vulnerable I have become.
**~~**
Stiff and sore, I open my eyes and take in the morning light. For a moment, I stare at the stream of sunshine flowing from the east; the rays are higher in the sky than when I woke the day before. Chastising myself for actually sleeping until the next day, I rise to get a jump start on my chores, and hopefully make breakfast before Michael has to leave. Cracking the door, I listen carefully to see if anyone else is awake. Satisfied that I might be able to pay back Michael’s kindness with at least breakfast, I hurry to turn on the teakettle, start the generator, and stoke the fire.
Cord of wood in hand, I glance in the whelping pen; Lune looks up at me, communicating that he is happy to see me up and around. To my eyes, his spirit has grown so much in the past nine months; I am in wonder that he continues to choose me for a companion. Artemis is sleeping curled up to her mother’s belly; her stomach is round and full, obviously just done with eating her breakfast. I pick her up and hold her warm little body close to my chest as I let the adults outside. Some of Ursa and Lune’s enthusiasm returns to normal as they leap into the snow banks that have blown up against the trees. Visualizing their thoughts, I know that today, they both want to hunt, stretch, and play.
Leaving them to their duties, I return to the recliners situated by the whelping pen. With Artemis still sleeping soundly in my arms, striding around the first chair, I see familiar feet propped up, and have to laugh at the awkward position in which Michael has fallen asleep. I sit in the farthest chair from the fire, adjacent to Michael. Turning the pup onto her back, I start rubbing her belly. Her head tilts back, little arms and legs hanging limp, she stays stubbornly unconscious while I tickle her. Once in awhile she flicks her paws in response to a dream, or my affection. I can't help, but smile at her innocence and sweet demeanor; she lifts the remaining weight of yesterday’s confession off my shoulders.
I lightly touch her mind with my own, and in a flash of pictures she shows me that she is chasing a rabbit through the trees. But that can’t be right; she has never been outside the cabin, and has never seen trees … or rabbits for that matter. Looking down I see the huge paws of an adult wolf, and then Lune crosses our path, racing off after the hare with incredible speed … Ahhh, she is watching the hunt through Ursa’s eyes. Warm and welcoming, I can feel Artemis turn her consciousness to my presence; she is giving me the acknowledgment, the love of a pack member.
The screaming whistle from the kitchen pulls me out of the little one’s mind, and I look up to see that it has also woken up Michael.
“How’s your neck? I can’t imagine sleeping in that position is very fun to wake up to. Why did you sleep down here, man … the bed upstairs has got to be more comfortable than that chair?”
His short hair sticks out in swirls on the side of his head, and his eyes swim while I am talking to him. He doesn’t answer; his mind is still too lethargic to think of a response, much less speak one. I hand Artemis to him and walk into the kitchen to make some black, liquid energy … and something more substantial in the energy department. After handing him a mug, I feel a smirk developing as I watch the big man with the still slumbering pup. He is just as much a sucker for her as I am.
Returning to the kitchen, I decide to make biscuits and gravy with the elk sausage I have stored away in my freezer. Searching through the cupboards, I find that my potato stash is starting to sprout, needing to be used right away, so I add them to the menu, in the form of cubed hash browns. Setting them to fry in the skillet, I add onions and diced chili peppers to the mix. Then making the biscuits and placing them in the oven, I start the elk cooking while I make the white sauce with milk, cream, flour, and the bacon drippings from breakfast yesterday.
Michael comes wandering in to the kitchen and sits down at the table, Artemis in one hand and his coffee in the other. He looks content, as he points out again, how much he likes breakfast. “Smells good. Thank you.”
“No problem. When do you have to report back to work?”
“After we eat, I’ll head back to my place and get cleaned up; I was planning on reporting in at about ten. Are you going to be okay here? I’ll check back in on you, guys, tonight. If you need me to pick up anything while I’m out, just text my cell.”
“I think we’ll be fine … I’m fine, I just needed a minute, or a day, to gather my thoughts and recoup. Sorry, I left you hanging yesterday.”
“That’s fine, kid, I understand … as long as you’re okay. I don’t really know when I’ll be able to get back, but I’ll try tonight … if it’s too late I’ll check in tomorrow.”
I can see the truth of his statement forming in his head: he really does want to keep an eye on us. He is more concerned about me than he is willing to let on, and he feels comfortable here … it surprises the hell of him, but he is comfortable here. I can also see that he is bogged down at work, and is expecting to return to a mountain of paperwork.
“Michael, don’t worry about us … just catch up on what you need to do, and let me know if I can help in any way.” He nods over the top of his mug.
It feels good to get back to business as usual and put yesterday behind me. I know I am going to eventually finish telling my story; I feel that I need to justify myself to Michael, even though he doesn’t think any less of me. I know Ellie is right though; I need to find some sort of resolution.
Eating in relative silence, I can feel the comfortable peace resting over us. I’ve only know one other person that made me feel this comfortable ─ my grandfather, and his thoughts were as honest and pure as Michael’s. Befriending their minds gave me glimpses at the untainted possibilities inside every man … right when I thought I had lost the ability to appreciate humanity’s potential. If I hadn’t had my grandfather in my life, I doubt I would understand how grateful I should be to have found a friend, a mentor that shares Grandpa’s ethical strength. Both men have not only seen, but conscientiously chosen, to fight amoral influences. They would never claim to be innocent, or even remotely perfect. Both have been victims to their anger and passions, yet they take on everyday as a new opportunity to try and protect innocence. Michael takes great pride in protecting the land and its animals, building relationships with people in the area, and providing support whenever possible. My grandfather served his country in the Marines, and then helped raise his oddball grandson, while also being a philanthropist, donating his time and money to many worthy causes. If I could just remember to listen with more than my skepticism, I might be able to learn that we always have a choice, mistakes are made, and life goes on. Maybe, I’ll even learn to forgive myself.
Daydreaming about Ellie, while sitting in the safe embrace of my grandfather’s memories: I can see her in front of me, our last day together, explaining the mindset of a survivor. “There are worse things in this world than someone taking your life, and after you have lived through that realization, you savor simple pleasures, and treasure loved ones.” Ellie’s philosophy reminds me of a story that my grandfather told me about Jewish prisoners in a Nazi concentration camp. When the Americans liberated the camp, they came back telling stories of physically broken human beings exhibiting more strength than the American soldiers had ever seen, or will ever see. Men and Women, some walking, some carrying others, they were naked and starved … they didn’t move to take revenge on their captors. They didn’t really even care to take cloth
es or boots from the German guards, because those kinds of amenities weren’t nearly as important as their dignity. Heads held high, carrying a menorah they had made out of nails from their barrack’s floorboards, and caring for one another, they walked out of that camp gracious and proud. Had those prisoners committed atrocities while under the guards’ thumbscrews? Yes. Did they give up that one last little bit of their humanity? No. Their strength came from hanging on to the realization, even if the price for that comprehension was their life; they understood freewill wasn’t about physically resisting. Physical resistance isn’t always possible … it is mentally, emotionally, and spiritually withstanding the pressure to forget humanity’s potential for kindness over cruelty. Choosing to accept consequences while still holding your head high, vulnerable and naked … you are stronger for the pain.
Ellie had lived through England standing on its own, cut off from any allies during World War Two. She had not physically survived the bombing of London; yet with what she had left, as an ethereal spirit, she chose to share compassion and love for humanity in general. She has a consideration for her fellow man; friend or foe, that she rarely witnessed in her former life ... Ellie’s empathy gives her the gut-wrenching gift of understanding the feelings of even her enemies. I feel like an idiot, feeling sorry for myself, and letting my mind be crippled by guilt. Even berating myself now, is an insult to the memories of my grandfather and Ellie. Time to pick myself up and start living again … the time will come when I have to finish my story, but that time isn’t now. For now, I need to care for my little family, and try to give back to the world that has given me so much.