by William Cali
Pent laughed. She had a point. “Alright, let’s get tore up then. Might be the last night of our lives, after all.”
Hanar raised his mug. “Here’s to that!” He took a long draw from the mug and then gasped for air.
“Easy there, man.” Pent drank slower from his own mug. The liquor burned like fire all the way down. “Oh god, that’s not easy to drink. Wish you guys would have figured out how to make beer first.”
Lyle chuckled, hiding her smile behind her mug. “It’s an acquired taste.” She took a large gulp and cringed. “And I don’t think I’ve acquired it.”
They all laughed together. They drank quickly at first but slowed as the night wore on. Hanar tried to share his music with them, and they both politely listened, though they made faces at each other whenever Hanar wasn’t looking. The music wasn’t refined yet, and the horn still needed work, but it was beautiful to each of them in their own way.
Lyle decided they needed something to go with the drink, so she cooked a meal for them. Pent hadn’t realized how hungry he had was until he smelled the pork-like meat searing over the fire. It smelled delicious, and he couldn’t help but think of a barbecue place in his home town he used to visit.
“This is too much, Lyle. You made a feast. How are we gonna finish this between the three of us?”
“Eat what you can, the rest can go to the animals.” She gazed at her plate, filled with cobs of corn and links of sausages. “Too much food, that’s the least of our worries right now.”
They both regarded her nervously as she stared at her food in silence.
Pent put his fork down slowly. “I feel you. It’s scary not knowing how this is all going to pan out.”
“Of course, the pending conflict with Gilbrand and his men is wearing on my mind.” She stared at Pent, a sullen look on her face. “But that’s not all. There’s just a… heaviness to all of this.”
“A heaviness?” Hanar asked.
“Dear brother, please don’t take offense, but it will be hard for you to understand.” She seemed to struggle for the right words before continuing. “I feel sometimes that all the weight of Somerville is resting on my shoulders.”
“You’re not alone,” Hanar said. “You can rest assured of that, we all stand with you.”
“I know, but there’s something beyond standing together. We all do what we can for Somerville. But everyone here looks to me. They look to me to be a leader.” She gnawed on a sausage link. They waited for her to finish before continuing. “Even the chief, now. He speaks of his age, more than I have ever heard him speak of it before. Someone needs to lead this place, but I wonder why it has to be me? Sometimes I wish I could just break away from it all, just go on and find a new life somewhere out there in the wilderness.” She met Hanar’s eyes and smiled. “I envy you in that, brother. I envy your freedom.”
“Oh ho.” Hanar laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Is it envy I’m hearing of? That’s a first for me. It’s usually a matter of pity that accompanies my name.”
“Pity?” she said. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love you too much to pity you, dear brother.”
“It’s true. In the deepest part of your heart, you know that it’s true. You know most everyone here pities me for the very same thing you just wished for.” He pushed his plate forward, done with the meal, and grabbed up his mug, finishing his liquor in one last swig. “And if we’re all sharing bold truths, I’m the one who lives in a sea of envy. Lyle, there is not a soul living in Somerville who doesn’t see you as crucial. Everyone speaks of the value you bring here, of how things could not be the same without you. And it might be a burden but look at the alternative.” He pointed at himself. “I’m of no importance here, one step away from being completely forgotten. Living on the outside of everything that’s been built here, alone. And if things fall apart here? If Yozer, or Gilbrand, or whoever comes and ends it all, what will I do?” He laughed again, softly this time, staring into his empty mug. “You make it sound romantic, sister. But wandering, forever alone, with no place to call home… Who could wish for such a thing?”
They all sat silently for some time. Pent mulled over the words that Hanar had shared. The perpetual outsider. Pent had never felt that way in his youth. Only when the rest of his friends had moved on to bigger and better things, leaving him alone to mull about in his crappy hometown, had he come to feel like an outsider. While he stayed where he started, living to care for his mother and not developing at all, not moving for growing. For seven long years, he wasted away. After all that time, he had been forgotten by the world.
Pent laughed humorlessly. “I can sympathize with getting left behind.” Hanar and Lyle were both staring at him. “And I definitely feel like an outsider here, ever since I first rolled into your town.”
“I’ve tried to be as accommodating as I can,” Hanar said. Lyle nodded her agreement.
“It’s not that. It’s almost like… I’ve just been on a different wavelength with everyone else in my life no matter where I go. Everyone moves in one direction, and I go a different way.” He swirled the mug in a circle and watched the contents whirl slowly around and around. “I mean, damn, just before I got here, I was in a bar with my friend Greg. He’s just about the only friend I even have left. And he was telling me some mess about my potential. How I’m just squandering it all bagging groceries. And even my moms was upset about it. I don’t get it. All I ever wanted to do was the right thing. Be better than my dad was to me. But whether it’s your world or mine, doing the right thing seems to get me burned.”
A young man face down on the ground. Blood pouring from his eye socket.
“Maybe it’s just the booze,” Pent said, running his hands through his hair, “but I’m feeling real nostalgic all of a sudden. I need to tell y’all something.” Pent turned to face Lyle. “You remember when you asked me about violence in my world? And we talked about how things are generally safe?” He turned to Hanar, “And you remember my ‘magical’ device? The thing I scared the hell out of you with when I first showed up here?” They both nodded together, their eyes wide and probing. “I need to tell you about my friend from way back. When I was fresh out of high school. I need to tell you about James.”
* * *
Just saying the name aloud was enough to fill Pent with dread. Things were so different back then, he was so invincible. And James was too, a fellow linebacker, one of those guys most would cast aside as a bad influence from the start. Pent was sympathetic. Something about being a huge black dude in this America. They cheer when you’re on the football field, and then paint a target on your back when you take the jersey off.
The two of them weren’t the closest of friends, but Pent enjoyed hanging out with James. He was a funny dude, and way smarter than anyone gave him credit for. It happened on a Tuesday in October.
Pent and James were at a house party. It was the summer after James’ graduation; Pent had already been out of school for a year. A few remnants of the football team from Pent’s year were still bumming around before they decided to get on with the rest of their lives. The party was raging for a while, but the host had made the most glaring of errors in planning. “Not enough beer.” James had his older brother’s ID, and he tagged Pent to join him in restocking their supply.
It was a windy day. Cold and windy as fall began to give way to winter. It was only a few blocks to the nearest gas station, and a case of cheapo beer would be enough to hold them over.
“Cold as hell here, man, I can’t wait to go down south. The real south, you know?” James had said. He had gotten accepted to the University of Miami, and not on a football scholarship. “Florida winters are the best! You should come visit me sometime.”
Pent had laughed and slapped James on the back. “Sure, man. Whenever I figure my stuff out.” He had told anyone who asked that he wanted a year to himself, to just sort everything in his life out. But, even back then, he felt like he was falling behind everyone around him.
> They spent the walk talking about James’ future. How he was interested in traveling, how he wanted to see the world, and the things he would do to improve it.
Pent didn’t carry the gun with him, then. He always wondered how life would have been different if he had been carrying when it happened.
James noticed the car first. Pent hadn’t thought anything of it, but when James pointed it out, it did seem to be moving slowly towards them. “Don’t like the looks of that,” James had said.
Before Pent could tell his friend to quit worrying, the air exploded with rippling gunfire. The driver of the car yelled something out as he sped by, but Pent couldn’t hear. He dropped to the ground and covered his head. Everyone had some kind of advice or tips on what to do in this kind of situation after the fact. But in the moment, all Pent could think to do was to bunker down.
He waited until the ringing in his ears subsided, as the car sped down the street. Most of the houses in the neighborhood had their lights off. They started to light up one by one, and their doors began to open as inquisitive neighbors popped out to see what the commotion was.
“Man, good thing we didn’t get the beer first. Don’t think the cops will be chill about the underage drinking,” Pent said. His voice sounded muffled to his own ears, and he wondered for a moment if they’d been damaged by the noise. If he couldn’t hear himself, he wouldn’t be able to hear James at all. He turned.
James was missing half his face. Steam rose from the bullet hole where his eye socket once was. Pent stared at the gore for what felt like forever before he turned away. He sobbed and tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat. He was frozen in place next to his dead friend, vomiting and crying until the cops came.
* * *
Pent opened his eyes slowly and rubbed at the wetness that had welled up in them. “That ain’t easy to talk about, guys.”
Hanar gripped his mug tightly. He struggled with his words. “Forgive me, my friend. But why? Why was your friend killed in such a way?”
Pent shook his head. “No reason. No reason at all. Just an innocent bystander. Just one good dude on the right path, unable to defend himself.” He reached up reflexively for his shoulder holster and pulled his hand back when he realized it wasn’t there. “They found the shooter a few months later. Gang stuff. They thought me and James were hustling in their territory. So stupid. Dude was on the wrong street.
“I’ve been packing heat since. I don’t ever want to get caught slipping like that again. But damn, damn if it doesn’t wear on my soul. Somebody like that could just up and get killed for no reason. And meanwhile, I’m over here, twiddling my thumbs going nowhere with life.” He knocked on the table with his knuckles. “Ever since that, I’ve just been spinning my wheels. Wasting time with the only knucklehead friend I’ve still got. Or I was… That was all before I landed here.”
“Perhaps...” Lyle looked pensive, unsure how to best share her thoughts. “Perhaps this is an opportunity for you, Pent. You haven’t been able to find a way home, but you surely haven’t been wasting time either. You can craft a new life among us, or at least refine yourself here. Your friend James is gone, his passing surely a tragedy. But you still live, and you can live a fine life one day at a time.”
“That’s if Gilbrand doesn’t kill us before the week is out,” Pent said.
“Indeed.” She pressed her hands together, locking her fingers. “I recall when Gilbrand attacked the village. Attacked me. I spoke harshly to you then, but you can’t know everything that will happen as a consequence of your actions. Your actions are the only thing you can control, so doing the right thing is just about the only thing you can do.”
“What’s this I hear about your only friend?” Hanar said in mock outrage. “I knew that my hut was small, but I didn’t think you would hold a grudge against me for it!” He laughed, leaning forward to grab the container of liquor and pour another drink. Lyle halted him by grabbing his wrist before he could pour.
Despite it all, Pent laughed too. “I was just talking about all of my friends in that world. When you’ve been to two different worlds, maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from.” He pushed his mug forward, having downed the contents. “We’re tighter than I ever was with Greg, believe that, man.”
They all laughed into the night, and as the drinking slowed, so did their talking. The minutes became hours, and eventually, Lyle stood and called the night done. There was still so much to do in preparation, and they had already spent a good part of the night drinking and talking like old friends. And so, they all split off, going their separate ways to rest and prepare for what lay ahead.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When Pent rose the next day, he felt anticipation and panic welling in his chest. He had drunk a lot and went to bed with his head spinning, but it was something else that was tugging at his nerves as he rose. This ain’t a hangover. There was an electricity in the air and breathing it made Pent’s hair stand on edge.
As he patrolled through the town, he watched the villagers who were in motion and active all around. The electricity had to be contagious; Somerville hadn’t been so panicked since he fought with Gilbrand in the town square. He hurried his pace, searching for the only person he could share these unexplainable thoughts with.
“Hanar! Hold up there, man!” Pent spotted him walking to the entrance of town, a pack slung over one shoulder, a bow and quiver on the other. He seemed pensive and thoughtful, a look that Pent had not seen on him before.
“Pent, my good friend. I was looking for you earlier.” He stopped and let out a dry chuckle. “I tried to wake you hours before, but you were as sound a sleeper as ever. I had hoped I would run into you when you awoke.” He stared at the ground, scratching his beard. “I do not understand why, but I have a feeling deep in my heart. I feel as if the time is at hand.”
“You too, then? I think it’s just a bit of nerves going around, but I’ve been a little jumpy myself.”
“Truly? I thought I was the only one. But if we’re both… it could be anything, I suppose,” he took a deep breath, his eyes unfocused, and said, “I cannot shake this feeling. I believe it is my time to depart.”
Pent looked the woodsman up and down. Hanar had a lot on his mind, for sure, and he was maybe a bit jumpy. But he stood strong, determined, his posture as straight as an arrow. At that moment, Pent thought he looked like the most reliable person he had ever met.
“Man, when I dropped out of nowhere into this world, you held it down, you looked after me. Just make sure…” He choked up and tried to catch the words caught in his throat. “Just be safe, man. Be safe out there, alright?”
Hanar smiled. There’s that goofy look after all. “My friend, I believe you are the one who should heed those words. But I will certainly keep them close to my heart.” He spoke as if he read Pent’s mind. “I know this is not the end for us, Pent. I know we will meet again.”
“Damn straight.” Pent stepped forward and embraced Hanar, who returned his hug in kind. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Of course.” He turned to make his way out of town and then turned back suddenly. “I cannot believe I forgot. Do you still have that device from your world, the one that can create fire?”
“Uh, my lighter? Yeah, for sure. What’s up?”
“May I borrow it? I have an idea. I could make use of it.”
Pent forked it over without a second thought. “Sure, man, just hold it in your hand like this…” Pent demonstrated with the lighter. “Right. Flick it down with your thumb and hold it. Yeah, you got it.”
Hanar smiled as he slipped the lighter into his pack. “Thank you, I will be sure to return this to you as soon as I can.” He held his hand out awkwardly, imitating the motion he’d seen Pent make. It seemed so long ago, now. Pent reached out and firmly grasped Hanar’s hand in his own. The two shook hands solemnly. “Farewell, for now.”
He walked off without saying another word. Pent watched him leave
until he was out of sight and then marched on to the town center.
* * *
Hours passed, and the day went by without an attack. The town bustled with activity, and soon enough the sun went down. The chief called on everyone to meet in the center of Somerville, and the villagers cautiously heeded the order.
Chief Pohk had taken his place in the town square, Mother Lyle by his side. She carried a lit torch in her hand, and a bundle of cloth had been placed at their feet. When the chief saw Pent approach, he waved him over.
“Come, stand next to me.”
There was a lot of idle chatter: Pent overheard people speaking of their chances, of their weapons, of the number of people who would attack. The crowd was heavy with tension. The chief raised his hands in the air.
“Please, everyone. Listen to me.” The villagers studied him, still and silent. “The time has come for us to challenge whatever fate has in store for us. By now, Gilbrand has surely made his way back to his castle. He has had ample time to assemble his men, and I believe we can expect them to be on us any day now. I was, at first, very cautious of taking this kind of action. I believe first and foremost in the safety of this village. That is what is most precious. But you have all conferred with each other, and it seems we will take another course.”
He kneeled down slowly—Pent heard his back and legs crack as he dipped down—and unraveled the bundle, revealing it to the crowd in a flourish. It was the same flag that once flew at the top of the chief’s home. Gilbrand’s flag, with the black and yellow cross.
The chief gestured to Mother Lyle, taking the torch from her hands. “I have lived a long life, and it has been a joy to live it. It has been prosperous and peaceful. But it has also been a life of strict rules and defined boundaries. I have been living as a pig in a pen, happy with my lot, but forbidden from expanding beyond.” He raised his voice, yelling to the crowd. “Those days are no more!”