Bear Caves Complete Series: A Bear Shifter Box Set
Page 49
“What are you up to this morning?” she asks. I respond with a shake of my head, meaning ‘nothing worth reporting.’ It surprisingly satiates her, though the excitement in her eyes and the childlike glint don’t fade a bit.
“Thanks for the food,” I tell her and slowly close the door, which makes her take a step back. There’s a bemused expression on her face, which I conveniently ignore though I feel a pang of guilt in my stomach.
I leave the food on the kitchen counter and return to my meditation, but even before I have shut my eyes, the bell rings a third time. I get up droopy-shouldered and with lazy and defeated steps, crawl to the door, and open it.
It’s not Jessica, nor is it Warren or Ashley. In fact, it’s no one I know.
“Hi, how can I help you?” I say to the tall woman, who is dressed in black leather pants, a red, deep V-neck top, and heels that make her tower over me like a giant. She’s slender, has blonde hair, and looks like a professional model. I’m at a loss of words wondering why she would be standing at my doorstep.
She takes her time in responding and flashes a grin that belongs on television.
“Hi, I’m Sarah,” she says, but the name sounds way too tame for a woman who looks like an Elvian princess from Lord of the Rings. Something more elaborate and embellished like perhaps Eliyana would suit her more. I snap out of my head and the lore that I’m imagining the girl to be a part of.
I cock my head at the woman because I can’t think of a single reason why Sarah should be introducing herself to me right now.
She takes the hint. “Right,” she says. “I’m new in the neighborhood, so I was wondering if we could grab a coffee sometime and get to know each other.”
How friendly is this neighborhood? That’s my first thought. Why would someone like her want to hang out with someone like me? That’s my second thought as I become aware of my own unkempt appearance.
“I would love to, but I’m in the middle of something important,” I say and shut the door for the third time that day. A deep sigh of relief leaves my throat as I notice my anxiety lowering the moment I’m alone. The high-strung buzz in my head, the constant stream of thoughts finally begins to ebb. This is why I need to meditate more frequently, I remind myself. I need to meditate as often as the masters who taught me the skill. Their sternness and contempt instantly find their way to my head. If you don’t master your mind, everything else is just failure.
I walk back to the spot where I meditate and like a shy schoolgirl hesitate to get back into the seating position. A part of me is awaiting another ring of the doorbell, one more unwanted guest. When my social anxiety reaches its height, the paranoia crescendos. It turns into a demon I can’t tame, and I know that meditation alone will not help me now. Sitting quietly as I hear that demon growl and grow inside of me, feeding on my fears and emotions, I wish myself well. Faith quietly grows inside of me, faith that it’s not as bad as it feels right now. With that faith, I close my eyes gently and notice my breath and the tightness in my chest and abdomen. The string is about to tighten like a noose when I feel a faint brush of warm sunlight on my face. I open my eyes to see the sky clear up.
The darkest of clouds pass. Don’t brace yourself against your fears so much, I tell myself, and as my shoulders ease, I get up to eat Jessica’s food. I’m done meditating for the day.
Chapter 5 - Sebastian
I wake up in the middle of the woods, groggy from last night’s alcohol as the headache ricochets in my brain from one side to the other. Everything smells of dirt, mud, and rain. I squint my eyes as the sunlight makes its way through the canopy overhead. The gentle touch of the heat makes me forget last night entirely. Nature is truly a gift. I’m constantly amazed at how engaged staring at tall, green trees keeps me. Or the sound of the river water as it passes over pebbles, or the incessant noise of the ocean as the waves crash against a cliff. Nothing about what excites me or makes me feel alive suggests that I was born to live with humans. It’s true that isolation is the killer of all joy, but the kind of happiness I’m talking about is what the wisdom of ancient men speaks of. Find that universe within yourself because surely there is one.
I snap out of my morning philosophical soliloquy and make a move. The bartender informed me that if I talk to Joshua, who is the alpha of the clan in this bear village, he might be able to help me. He might even offer me a place to stay here, the guy at the bar said. I have long stopped believing in the goodness of people, so I responded with a particularly snarky remark as the guy poured my drink. For my sake, let’s hope I’m wrong and he’s right.
I find the man’s house with relative ease and wait at his front porch after ringing the bell. I stand upright like a diligent schoolboy and wonder why I feel this pull towards this village. There’s a magical quality to the place that makes me want to stay; it makes me feel like there’s no need to rush because I have arrived and can rest now. It’s a stupid thought that I brush aside when Joshua answers the door.
“How can I help you?” he asks.
“I’m Sebastian,” I say. “I’m on a trekking trip through the woods. I know it’s a bit much to ask, but I was wondering if you would have a place where I can stay before I continue with my journey? I’ve been traveling for days now, and I would like to make a pit stop.”
Joshua listens to me patiently with a look of suspicion on his face. “Warren told me about you,” he says.
All of my hope goes flushing down the toilet, and I’m about to turn around and leave when he stops me.
“There’s always space for guests in the village,” he says with a sense of duty. “I can’t turn my back on you. Though I’m not sure that I’m very happy about your visit, either.” He sighs, then goes back into the house and returns with a key in his hand. “I’ll show you the place. But try not to cause trouble, alright? Taking advantage of our hospitality will not serve you well.” He speaks like an alpha, in the same mindless droning of a tone that I remember my own alpha speaking in. Oddly enough, he and Joshua look somewhat alike too.
We follow the same path that I’d come and reach the edge of the village where the houses are more sparse and somewhat rundown. The lawns in the area aren’t as well-maintained as the ones around the rotunda. I catch myself assessing the neighborhood as if I’m looking to buy real estate in the suburban part of the town to live the end of my days with my wife and kids. What do the lawns have to do with me?
“The neighborhood’s quiet, and we basically get no criminal activity in the village,” Joshua speaks in monotone as if he’s bored by our interaction. “We’d like to keep it that way.” He gives me an unwelcome scowl, trying to put the fear of God in me or something. He seems to be older than me by seven or eight years, at least, but I wonder if there’s anything in my appearance otherwise that invites people to give me unnecessary instructions.
“I’ll be good,” I reassure him, but he doesn’t look convinced.
We enter something of a cul-de-sac where half a dozen houses are built along a semi-circular arc. These don’t have cave tops like the houses on the other side of the rotunda; these look normal. We walk up the porch of one of the houses, and Joshua opens the door to a sparsely furnished place. The smell of dust hits my nose as soon as we step in.
“You can take care of the cleaning,” Joshua says and hands me the key. I scan the place and like the fact that it’s massive. After the cabin, this is a welcome upgrade. “Any timeline on how long you’ll be here?”
I shake my head, busy gaping at the wooden roof, the wooden walls, and the wooden floor until I notice the hearth of the fireplace. It has a fireplace.
“Just making sure we’re clear,” says Joshua. “Don’t stir anything up, or there will be consequences.”
The man finally has my attention. I’m wondering how commonly he threatens people. “Do you always treat visitors with disrespect?”
“No, I don’t, but we don’t usually get visitors who have an alcohol problem and a criminal record.”
Self-respect is almost too expensive for someone like me. I can’t afford it.
I don’t speak, and the man leaves after scrutinizing me for a few more seconds, giving me his version of a mental frisking, and yes, I do feel violated when he’s done.
I leave my bag on the floor to do a quick scan of the place. The sun is up in the sky now, and it’s a surprisingly hot day for the month of October.
The surroundings seem quiet, and in the attempts to gauge the kind of people that are around, I peek into the house next to mine. An old man walks by and sees me. He stops and stares at me with the same suspicion as Joshua, and when he doesn’t move along for the next thirty seconds, I go up to him to see if I can help him somehow.
“Are you lost?” I ask him, harmlessly.
“Are you?” he asks as if he has already decided that I’m a perpetrator. Why is everyone in this village so hostile?
“I’m new here, but no, I’m not lost,” I say in a polite manner out of respect for the man’s age.
“I’m the village elder. Joshua told me about you.”
“Nothing good, I presume,” I say and roll my eyes like the leader of a clique.
“No, nothing good. I’m Eli, I live down the street. Hope to see you around, Sebastian.”
There’s the hint of a threat in the man’s voice, and for some reason, it’s more daunting than Joshua’s. I curl inward at the encounter and walk away without another word. The village doesn’t seem very appealing anymore.
I shut the door to the house and slump to the floor as my muscles ache from all the backpacking. My shoulders have been sore for weeks now. I’m not as athletic as I once used to be.
As the crippling awareness of being in my own company hits me, my mouth goes dry. There’s only one way I know how to quench that thirst. I’m already ashamed at the thought, but I know it won’t stop me from breaking my measly ten-hour long sober spell.
Chapter 6 - Maya
The woods are alive and breathing like they have a mind of their own. I do my daily training in a spot sufficiently removed from the village, far enough away that no one will catch me here. No one, whether from the village or elsewhere.
Being on the lookout for intruders was too distracting while I practiced in the backyard. Besides, there’s not enough space for target practice there.
The sun is hidden behind a thick veil of clouds today, and the gloomy weather has now started to get on my nerves. Everything is just slightly melancholic with a sense of foreboding that I alone cannot erase. It reminds me of home. Way up north, the sky was always this gray. Perhaps, sunlight is just not in my stars.
I brought my bow and quiver with me today; it’s been a while since I last used them. I wouldn’t want to get rusty with my aim. The weapon has been sitting carelessly with my belongings, waiting for me to pick it up and start practicing. So today has been much awaited.
I hold the recurve of the wooden arm and run my fingers lightly along the length of the bow; the touch is electric immediately. There are a great many things I hated about home, about fighting, about being a weapon myself, but with a bow in hand, it was never about a battle or a fight. The bow and I are companions; it gives me meaning as I give it aim.
I pull the string taut on the edges of the staff and pick one of the arrows from the quiver. Of course, I would never use such a primitive weapon on missions, but knowing how to aim is a whole other ball game. I’ve been practicing since I was seven.
The altercation with Lee yesterday revealed exactly how rusty I’ve become. If someone else finds me, I’m as good as dead.
A deep breath and I focus on every inhale and exhale like I do when I meditate, holding the bow up to shoulder height. The woods smell like rain and the upcoming winter, the scent filling my lungs with deep, calming breaths. My eyes lock onto the target about thirty yards away. It’s a mountain ash tree, especially thick and stout, as compared to the rest of them. I steady my shoulders and place the arrow in position. With laser-sharp focus, I draw the arrow with a deep inhale. The string touches my lips where my hand is steadily holding the arrow’s end. A slow, deliberate exhale, and the arrow goes flying, cutting through the air, making a quiet hissing sound as it does.
I snicker at the outcome; the arrow is jammed right at the center of the tree trunk, and its end wags like a dog’s tail for seconds after it hits the mark.
So I haven’t quite lost the flare.
There’s a snap of a twig behind me that catches me by surprise. I turn around instinctively but find nothing moving. The sound was there, it was real. I pull the arrow up in defense, and the sound of something snaking over dead, dry leaves comes again. It’s a crisp sound, but there’s nothing in sight that could be making it. For a split second, I entertain the idea that I’m hallucinating, but the sound comes again, and it’s too real to be a lie. The hair on my body stands on end as I crouch and move toward the tree from where the sound came. One more step, and I think I see a shadow moving. It sends electric shocks down my spine. I’m alert, but I know my body is short-circuiting; it doesn’t know how to handle threat anymore.
I whirl around when another sound comes from behind me, but it’s nothing, and the sound of footsteps comes again from up front. I’m disoriented from the rush of blood, but I will myself to stay sharp. I’m inching closer until I’m just around the tree where the sound last came from. The trunk is thick enough to conceal a human behind it. Did Lee rat me out after all? I mentally prepare myself. Ready yourself to spill some blood, Maya.
I allow the meditative calm to settle amidst a cacophony of alarming anxiety, the bow quivering in my hand as my fingers quake in fear. Weakness is slowly taking over me, and I don’t have much time before I pass out, so I leap to the other side of the tree, getting a clear view of the back. My arrow searches for a target, but there’s nothing there. The sound comes again, and this time there’s no question that it’s there. My eyes follow the source down to the ground, my hand guiding the weapon along, and then silence falls for one second until a faint chirp finally crackles.
I drop the arrow as I watch a canary with a broken wing trying to lift itself up.
I sink to the ground, my hands going numb as the adrenalin wanes and my good sense returns. My head is spinning from the overload of an imminent life threat, my heart is beating out of control, and my legs won’t move for a while. I remain stationary, and as my vision fades, I let darkness come though it’s not all-consuming. My body needs to rest, so I put my head on the ground and curl into a fetal position, lulling myself like one would pacify a child who had a rabid dog pounce at him on the street. In front of my eyes, the canary struggles to crawl, making pained noises as she does.
It takes me a while to regain control of my body and mind. The bird stops needlessly propelling itself into fight or flight. When I’m fine again, I pick myself up and then the canary and swing the bow over my shoulder to walk back home. I could do some first-aid on the bird; she’d be able to fly in a week or so. Funny, I think to myself, how full of possibilities life always is. Then why am I stuck in this loop of constantly being afraid for my life? Why am I still fighting? Why am I still running? Is this going to continue forever?
The questions plague me on my way home, and no amount of pushing them away curbs the repulsion that comes with them.
It’s dark by the time I come home, and there’s another threat waiting for me once I reach it. The house that’s next to mine has its light on which is problematic because, as far as I know, no one is supposed to be living in that house.
Chapter 7 - Sebastian
There’s a searing thirst in my throat, and alcohol is the only liquid that can quench it. Sobriety keeps me on edge, and though I quite dislike it, drowning myself in alcoho
l will get me kicked out of the village, which is a cost too hefty to pay. I don’t want to be subjected to any more forest trodding for hours on end without a human in sight or a bear shifter for that matter. I love nature, but I’ve been immersed in it too much these past weeks. The comfort of a warm bath is what I need right now; that, and a firm mattress before my back breaks.
Getting my priorities straight, I draw a hot bath for the evening. I almost drool at the thought of letting my sore muscles soak in tepid water for an hour or so as I add soap to the water. So much for thinking I belong in nature. Serious terms and conditions apply to that evaluation. I belong in nature for short periods of time until I start missing convenience and technology, at which point I exclusively, and solemnly, belong to the realms of mankind.
The bath water warms my skin, cleansing the days' old dirt and muck and algae, stripping me of the dissatisfaction of parting with alcohol, albeit for a very short period of time as I soak in the tub, letting my worries melt away.
I come out after an hour, standing in the middle of the hallway with nothing but a towel around my waist. I retrieve my phone from the pocket of my jeans. There are texts coming in that Code Blue sent a few weeks ago, but I’m only now receiving them because I’ve finally been able to charge my phone and connect it to the cellular network. The ease of normal human life makes me gleeful; I feel like a child who got handed a secret present from Santa.
My phone buzzes, and its screen lights up, but I don’t understand what happens next. There’s a thud on the window and the sound of quick, nimble footsteps coming my way. Before I can blink an eye to see who or what is making those sounds, there’s a sharp edge of a blade to my throat. I can see it shining under the light overhead from the corner of my eye.