Thursday

CHAPTER 5

“Is Smitty back there with Leonard?” Sheriff Jules Thompson asked as he entered the Sheriff’s office through the public entrance, carrying a box of donuts from Tory’s Market.

“Yeah, Julie, they’re both back there.” The small tinny voice that buzzed from the three inch diameter speaker belonged to Susan Hutchins the dispatcher. She spoke from behind thick protective one way glass on the wall opposite the entrance. “Mary Hendrickson’s mother called from the hospital. Mary had her baby last night and they can’t find Frank. She wanted to know if we had him.”

“Do we?” Thompson smiled at his reflection in the glass.

“Not this time. She said he went off last night with that Jensen boy from Marion.”

“Cletus,” said the sheriff. “I’m going up to Marion this morning. I’ll stop in at the Jensen place.”

“I think he’s working across the block there for Gary Erickson on the new bank building. You might swing in there first.” Susan shifted on her tall swivel stool and leaned closer to the microphone attached to the flexible stand rising up from her console. “Are you holding for state before beginning the investigation briefing?”

“No, Susan, they’ll be along. They’re always late,” Jules spoke with a tone of impatience. “We’ll start with coffee though, can you join us?”

“Well, yeah, if you don’t mind, thank you.” Susan reached up and removed the telephone headset from her ear, placing it on the console. She lifted the hand set from its base and slipped it into the pocket of her uniform.

“You might as well come on back. It’s pretty quiet this morning.” Jules Thompson took hold of the handle on the thick steal door next to the mirrored glass. He paused, holding the donut box in his other hand. After he heard a loud buzz ending with a click, he swung the door outward, blocking it open with his foot. He carefully swung the box around and walked down the hallway to the meeting room. Lighted panels in the ceiling flickered pallid light against the pasty white block walls and the gray tile floor. The heavy door swung closed behind him with a click as Susan emerged into the hallway from his right. She followed Thompson to the end of the hall and they entered the conference room together.

 An investigator, on loan from Duncan County, had come to fill them in on his findings concerning the missing persons that the county had been experiencing over the past year.

A state patrol car eased up to the parking bumper in front of the office. A tall uniformed officer got out. He leaned against the front fender of the car and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the air. He looked around the block through his dark sun glasses.

.

Two flies had awakened with the warmth of daybreak and were flying an oval course above the kitchen table. Will watched them for half a minute. They were easy to see when flying in the sunlight shining through the window, but then they would disappear into the lesser light of the room as they completed their course. The silence would have been complete but for their intermittent buzzing.

The fire in the woodstove had diminished to glowing coals. Will stood and went into the bathroom. As he poured cold water from a small water pale into the basin, he spoke, “Anj?”  He dipped a washcloth into the water and wrung it, folding it lengthwise. “I’m getting a little scared. It’s been weeks now and you’re no better. A phone call to Sally wouldn’t hurt anything and I also really do need to call Leah.” He walked back to Angela and gently placed the cool, damp cloth onto her forehead.

She reached her hand up and held it in place as she spoke. “Listen here Will, you saying I’m sick will only worry her. She does that too much as is. Now please . . .” Angela drew in a long slow breath and pulled the cool cloth down over her eyes. “Thank you, Honey. Make yourself useful and get me some tea. Get me some of that red stuff that Hank brought the other day.”

Will gently placed a small pillow next to her head, and pulled the quilt up over her shoulders. Standing, he rubbed his own left shoulder, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “How about some oatmeal, maybe a little orange juice?” he said as he walked to the kitchen.

“I’ll try it.” Angela’s voice was weak and she had trouble enunciating her words.

 The right glass panel of the window, eased outward as Will turned the window crank over the sink. He reached into the propane-powered refrigerator, and removed a pitcher of orange juice. A gassy stink hissed into the air as he turned the knob on the cook stove. As he struck a wooden match to light the burner, the odor burned off instantly and a blue flame fluffed to life. He shook the match and pitched it into an old copper ashtray half full of match sticks on the windowsill. A thin string of smoke lifted itself from the match tip into the air and was blown apart by the breeze coming in from the open window. The transparent curtain panel lightly wafted inward and the quiet roar of wind in tree tops snuck in with the clean thin scent of pine and sage. It was cold on Will’s bare chest.

He set a sauce pan over the flame, and reached for the pump handle that rose from the base of the sink. A few vigorous pumps brought water up, as the siphon suction awakened deep in the well shaft. Cold water pulsed into a small water pail. As it filled, he stopped pumping and the stream of water slowed quickly, diminishing to a drip.

Lighting another burner, he poured water from the pail into a teakettle, setting it over the flame. He then poured the remainder of the water into the hot pan that was heating on the first burner. Steam hissed and bushed up into the air when the cold water hit the hot pan. Will stirred in a two cups of oatmeal.

Hot water, from the kettle, was poured over the red powder and chunks of root in two mugs, and oatmeal slopped into two bowls. He then poured orange juice into a couple of small glasses and placed the breakfast onto a tray, which he brought to Angela’s bedside table.

Sliding the stool next to her again, he sat and handed his wife her tea. He took one of the cereal bowls and shoveled a spoonful of hot mush into his mouth, then quickly gulped orange juice to cool the hot oatmeal before he swallowed. Angela sipped at her tea. Will pushed another heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth, and chewed.

“Will, I miss Leah.”

“Me too.” Will mumbled around the gob of mush that he was chewing. Wings flapped and chirps sounded from the bird cage.

Angela closed her eyes. “Will?”

“Yeah, Anj?”

“Did you feed my babies?”

Will swallowed hard, “Uh, yeah. Yes, I did.”

“You didn’t forget Mildred?” Angela’s eyes were still closed.

“I didn’t forget.” Will’s voice was tight. Angela opened her eyes and searched him knowingly. Will frowned with agitation as he deflected, “When do you suppose that flea condo will be getting his own food.” He gestured toward the kitchen with his spoon, “Seems half my time is spent . . .”

“Honey, you know his head wound retarded his natural cycle. He’d starve without us,” said Angela softly. “And Hank said Bear would come out of hibernation slowly. We’re lucky that gunshot wound didn’t kill him.”

“Yeah, lucky.” snorted Will, raising his left eyebrow. “Well, I’d be willing to bet that a retarded bear could get his own food if he got good and hungry. I bet we’d see us a miracle. Hunger might just un-retard his lazy butt.”

“Yeah,” replied Angela, “And he might decide he’s had enough fish and he’s going to try some old man, instead. What then, genius?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Will exaggerated an expression of being deeply wounded. He leaned back on the stool and searched Angela’s face.

“Yes. Yes I would.” Angela said resolutely, closing her eyes again with smirked satisfaction. “I’d replace you with a couple’a young stud movie stars. Maybe bring me up those guys from that doctor show.”

“You couldn’t handle ‘em.”

“Oh yes,” she swooned, “yes, I could.”

“Well, then. I get to have that girl from the news net . . .” Will’s words were cut short again.

“No you don’t. You’re already bear food, remember? Besides, that tramp wouldn’t have you.”

Will went silent, allowing her to win. He shoved another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth, and spoke with a full mouth, “I’m going to kidnap you today, baby, and haul you to town.” He mumbled, swallowing with difficulty.

“You taking me dancing at the Stomp?” asked Angela in a little girl voice. “I’ll need a new outfit. We’d better stop down to Blue's first.” The playful exchange tired her, and the sparkle left her eyes. Her smile faded. Will reached, and gently took the tea mug from her hands and her arms slumped to her chest. “Will, honey,” she said weakly, pausing to gather enough strength to continue, “I’ll eat later.” Her eyelids lowered half closed and she drifted into sleep.

Will, no longer hungry, sat looking at his sleeping wife for a moment. His hand holding the cereal bowl trembled. He set the bowl on the tray. Gently pulling the pillow up close to Angela’s face, he leaned forward and kissed her. She listed into the pillow and lightly snored. Tears etched Will's cheeks. Standing, he took the bathrobe from the daybed post, and swung it over his shoulders. Waves of sadness and worry washed over him. He left Angela’s tea and orange juice on the bedside table and carried the rest of the breakfast tray to the sink. He stood staring out the window at the lake. The view blurred as his eyes filled with tears.

                                                            .

Leah made up her bed and went into the bathroom. She turned the leaver in the shower, causing water spray to slap the tiles. Within seconds, the glass shower door was coated with steam. Potpourri, activated by the humidity of the room, fragrancing the atmosphere from a shelf on the opposite wall. Leah pulled the bedroom door closed and faced her reflection in the mirror hanging on its bathroom side. Pulling the long nightshirt up over her head and dropping it to the floor, she studied herself. As the woman staring back at her blurred to a steamy softness, she became her mother’s twin. Family and friends had told her this for years but it wasn’t until recently that Leah had truly begun to see it herself.

Light flickered in Leah’s bedroom, and then suddenly blazed, as though a thousand camera flashes had detonated at once.

As Leah stood looking into her steamy reflection, her peripheral vision caught the flash. Blinded, she staggered back a step pressing her palms to her eye sockets. She removed her hands from her eyes and blinked, testing her sight. Stars and blank spots danced before her for a few seconds. She timidly opened the door and peered into the bedroom. Nothing was out of place and all was quiet.

Pulling the door closed, she again looked at her face in the mirror. Two water drops had formed from heavy steam and were sliding down her reflection. She touched her forehead to the glass and closed her eyes. It was nothing, she assured herself. You’re a bit of a mess this morning, aren't you?

The fundamental nature of existence--of intelligence, ghosted slowly into reality in Leah’s bedroom. Quintessence of beings invisible to the eye, but felt by the heart, were merged into a glowing fog but then separated into four distinct Muha physical entities.

With a flick of her finger, the ceiling exhaust fan spun into operation. Leah turned to the mirror once more and wiped it dry with a washcloth. Her long blonde hair hung in natural curls over her shoulders but she kept it short in front, framing her face. It was now damp on her forehead. She smiled at her reflection, but her smile faded as concern for her parents again flooded her mind.

“Please make it OK. Please protect them,” she whispered. As a young girl, she had had no doubts that there was something out there to receive her prayers. However, as adulthood had overtaken her, bringing with it reason and reality, life's experiences had caused the flame of belief to all but die out, flickering to nothing more than a pilot light. But here, now this morning, she needed certain aspects of her childhood faith to be true again.

A fifth presence emptied into the bedroom and the others rapidly drifted to a corner rising to the ceiling. Light swirled and increased in intensity as a figure formed; a man with long, wavy white hair, Osiahapahnu.

Memory of a time when she was eight years old leaked into Leah’s thoughts. She examined her antique theories of the supernatural and the stories told her by Old Wolf Shoyo. She smiled at her quaint childhood belief. She had once asked her father if she could go to church with her friend Sally. He had answered, “Going in for a little metaphysical spookiness, are we? Spiritual things are spiritually discerned but the pretentiously pious are transparent as hell.”

“What, Daddy? Why can’t you just say yes or no?”

“Well then, how about,” Will had winked at his daughter and smiled, “yes.” He hadn’t often said no to her.

“Yes.” Leah winked at herself in the mirror and smiled her father’s smile. She turned and stepped into the shower.

The sound of steady, heavy shower spray behind the closed bathroom door was intermittently interrupted with full slaps of water on tile as Leah showered. Jazzy’s chirping came from deeper in the interior of the house. The old clock in Leah’s front room chimed once, indicating the half hour.

They faced each other. Pointing in the direction that they had all entered, Osiahapahnu narrowed his eyes. His order to leave was fully understood by the Muha and they responded with gyrations of protest.

Jazzy stopped singing.

The four once again blended into fading light that found egress through the wall.

Osiahapahnu remained and whitened brighter than the light streaming through the bedroom window and became increasingly more transparent, losing definition, finally fading completely away.

                                                                        .

.           Angela, I’m waiting. I have something to show you.

I'm coming. I can hear you but I can’t see you. The dust is so thick. It’s cool on the soles of my feet. It flies up between my toes whenever I take a step.

Keep walking toward the sound of my voice, Angela.

That’s such a strange sound, what is that? What is that huffing noise? Why do the birds make such a racket?

Keep walking Angela, come to me.

A bear! Osiahapahnu, there‘s a hurt bear lying here in front of me!

Yes Angela, the bear has been shot in the head. You have to help this bear or it will die. Get Will to help you. You are unable to do it alone and you don’t have much time.

Osiahapahnu?

Yes Angela?

My legs are heavy, I can’t run. I am so tired. I just want to sleep. How can I help this bear? I am just an old woman.

I’m here Angela, can you see me? Look up the path, here I am.

I see you Osiahapahnu, you are so beautiful, your hair, your gown. But, what happened to your hands? You’re burnt. Oh no no, this can’t be so. You are badly hurt. Wait, something has come between us. It’s so foggy. I cannot see you, say something to me.

I hear you Angela. Do not be afraid of it. Watch as it changes.

I don’t like this, it’s becoming a person. It is becoming . . . me!

Don’t be afraid of it Angela, it is not you. It is only pretending to be you.

But why? Why would it pretend to be me?

Do you see Will splitting wood by the shed?

Yes I do. Will! I’m over here. He can‘t hear me. He can‘t see me waving.

Run to him now. Get him to help you with the bear.

Will, the bear is bleeding from its head. We must do something right now or he’ll die. Will, the bear cannot die. Flies are buzzing around a pool of blood in the dirt where it leaked from the hole in his head. Run, run faster. Oh the stench. I am going to gag. I cannot stand the smell. Go, go, go, faster Will, drive faster. It’s still alive but we have to hurry. Did you get the cinch binders and rigging straps? We’ll need them.

                                                            .

“Go, go, go,” shouted Angela. Her eyes opened with a start. She blearily looked around the room. “Will?” She closed them and she was again sleeping.

“Anj?” Will turned from looking out the kitchen window.

Angela mumbled an incomprehensible statement and smacked her lips. Pointing to the wall, she spoke lucidly, “Up there.” Will stood listening, hoping she’d say more. Soon, she was breathing deeply and again, gently snoring.

                                                            .

I can run faster than this, let me off of this thing. My legs are not tired anymore. What is that whistling? Osiahapahnu, is that you?

No, it’s Hank.

Over here Hank, we found a bear.

nasundetehaude akoaih hagan ‘iyunde en saiki.

What did you say, Hank?

I just asked this bear, what he is doing here.

What did he say?

He didn’t say nothin’, Angela, bears don’t talk. We need to gather some . . .

What do we need Hank?

Fish. Mukua . . . from . . . from . . . You will know your own heart as you bring him from death to life. The irony is that he will be healing you because you chose to take care of him. He has chosen you.

Osiahapahnu, I can’t make sense of any of this.

I want you to be well for a night, Angela, and to not be frightened.

Well? You want me to be well? What do you mean?

Yeah, yeah, and just who do you think will be getting him his groceries? Me, that’s who; you two will run around healing each other and feeling good about yourselves, and it’ll be me who does all the running and fetching. I ain’t got enough goin’ on but now, I gotta play nursemaid to some old parasite breading ground?

Will, we have to help this bear. If we don’t . . .

If we don’t, what?

He will die.

That is not why you help. You help so you can be helped. If you don’t help, you will never understand the things you need to know in order to escape.

Escape? Osiahapahnu, what do you mean escape? Escape what?

Escape the model. There is a place where you can escape. Read the words on the rocks. As you help this bear, you will know, you will understand.

We’ll go fishing Angela.

You two go on ahead now, go fishing.