Mundahlia (The Mundahlian Era, #1)

by RJ Gonzales

  Touché, Marine George. Touché

  “Fine. But only once.” I took a deep breath and cupped my hands around my mouth to mimic George. “Aouuuuu!” I called, panning the forest.

  Just then, a tiny grey headstone—hidden in cluster of distant shrubs, caught my attention. “What’s that?” I pointed and moved behind George as if something menacing were in front of us.

  “Dunno. Let’s check it out.” George walked carelessly over to the headstone as if it were merely a ball that a child had kicked out of bounds. I followed close behind, catching the back of his heels a few times by accident.

  “Sorry.”

  As we neared, the dirt-encrusted words engraved into the grey, misshapen, and corroded stone became clear enough to read:

  Zunicio “Zuni” Sarantos

  “Little Warrior”

  “What’d ya’ know.” George said, kneeling down to clear away some of the grime. The headstone was bare and secluded, as if it had been forgotten. No flowers or anything. Weeds had grown tall enough to cover it, and the grass had started forming over the stone itself. It was like no one cared for it anymore.

  “Well Rini, I don’t see any wolves around here,” George said as he got up and brushed the dirt away from his knees. “Nothing, but a headstone.” He looked around the forest then back to me, “We’d better go, it’s getting late and usually forest and darkness don’t mix without spookiness.”

  ...

  That night, after a hot shower, I lied awake with my book open on my chest and the volume of the TV as quiet as a whisper. I left it on to mask the noises of the cabin settling. I figured I’d rather hear the mumbles of dialogue on a show instead of creeeeaaaak! from the floorboards, scratch, scratch, from the branches outside, and Bummmmmmmmmmm! from when the air-conditioning unit started up again just outside my window.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. No wolf was out there. Nothing but a forgotten headstone. Maybe it was just a dog like George had said. The lone stone clouded my mind. Why would someone just forget it? Had it been a vile person, no one would have even bothered engraving it. Little Warrior? What on earth does that mean? I had school in the morning and the clock was lit neon red with the numbers that made up 1:13 am. I set my book and bottle of water aside and turned out the lamp. It took a while to fall asleep and enter my dreams. However, when I did, I could of sworn a soft howl sounded from the distance. And I heard it every night for the rest of the week. It was almost like a routine. Take a shower, turn on the TV so the scary noises won’t make you shiver in fear, sketch your outfits for class, read a few pages of a book, turn out the lamp and get ready to sleep. Then, knockout after hearing the howl of a wolf.

  ...

  By the time Saturday morning rolled around, I had practically known Sarah’s entire life story. Literally. I found out Chansile Cafe was owned by her family and they have several chains in a few more cities across Texas. She even said they were looking for a waitress. I figured the extra money wouldn’t hurt so I told her to tell them I was highly interested. Then, she told me about all of her favorite things. Hot guys, pizza, hot guys, music, hot guys, movies, Hot Topic, swimming, and did I say hot guys? I found out many things over this past week. She’s quirky, like I predicted. But funny, friendly, and just plain awesome too. The things she says sometimes are just precious. She’s a total breath of fresh air after hearing jabs or getting ugly faces and smirks from the stick who made my first week adjusting to the new school pure hell. I swear she intentionally tripped me on Tuesday as I was heading into Design and Sew. Nobody’s foot would be that far out past the desk just as I was struggling and had my attention diverted to the vibrating phone in my purse. Bottom line? I fell, people laughed, I got up and held my head high—then cried to myself when I was alone, and got over it by Thursday.

  I woke up at about nine o’ clock in the morning. The sky was what-the-hell? grey like cement, and I stepped into the bathroom to brush the morning breath away with minty toothpaste that tingled even after my teeth were squeaky clean. From my closet, I pulled a simple white tank top and short denim shorts to change into and made my way over to the backdoor of my cousins’ home with the key they had given me. George and Celeste were nowhere in sight and the lights were all off. I checked the living room—nope. I checked outside the front door—both cars were still there. I even went up the stairs to check the nursery, and nothing. The air conditioner inside started, and I heard a creak from their slightly open bedroom door as the newly flowing air pushed it open a little bit further. That’s odd.

  I tapped the door—wishing only after it was open, that I hadn’t. George was over Celeste and they were both sweating and—“Oh my god!” I shouted, immediately covering my eyes at the explicit scene. Celeste and George were doing it! And I had just walked in on it. They both looked over at me, the unintentional viewer, in shock.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Celeste shouted, flinging a nearby pillow at the door. I was already ahead of them, dashing down the stairs and into the kitchen in shock myself.

  Half an hour later, the couple walked into the kitchen and found me standing over the stovetop, cooking eggs. I had decided to cook breakfast for the family. It helped distract me by giving me something to do. George went to the fridge to grab two bottles of water and helped Celeste onto one of the stools in front of me. They both sat—staring at me. I was quiet, and focused my attention only to the eggs in the pan. Celeste uncapped her water and took a sip.

  “Tough workout?” I said, keeping a serious face. Inside I was bursting into laughter. From the corner of my eye I saw George smile as he took a sip from his bottle.

  Celeste looked like she was about to spit out the water, before swallowing it and wiping her mouth, “Rini, stop it!” she demanded in a low voice.

  “Okay, geez.” I turned off the heat and placed some slices of bread in the six slice toaster. When they browned nice and crispy, I buttered them up and divided them amongst three plates alongside the eggs, handing both of them a plate and keeping mine in front of me. I, then fetched a dish of freshly cooked breakfast sausage and offered some to them. George took three slices and cut them up on his plate with the side of his fork. I moved over to Celeste, who looked at them and scrunched her nose up in disgust.

  “What’s the matter? I thought you liked sausage in the morning.” I joked. Again George smiled.

  “Unbelievable!” Celeste threw her hands up and took her plate to the table where she ate angrily and quiet. The silence didn’t aid the already awkward situation. My cellphone vibrated to life in my pocket.

  New Text Message

  Sarah (10:03am) : Hey Girl! you got the job! Not that you had to doubt that you wouldn’t get it. You start 2morrow. I’ll be by to pick u up at about 6:00am sharp, send me the address. Lol.

  You (10:05am): Thanks!!! The address is 1509 Garett Lane. Save me plz!

  Sarah (10:08am): Cool Beans! Let me just put it on this map thingy to print out the directions. Por que? what happened?!?!?

  You (10:10am): Cuz I just walked in on my cousins having sex and now it’s all awkward!

  Sarah (10:15am): Dayyyumm you live in the outskirts?! And ewwies :x

  You (10:17am): I know!! My cousin is REAL mad now. Lol.

  Sarah (10:18am): Lmao!

  You (10:22am): Ugh! I gotta go now cuz she wants to talk to me…

  Sarah (10:23am): Good luck Rini!! C ya Mañana! Lol

  You (10:23am): I hope so....

  I slid the phone back in my pocket and headed over to Celeste who appeared as though she were practicing her speech in her mind.

  “What you saw-” she began. Here we go.

  To save an hour of going on and on about something that made me uncomfortable—I interrupted, “Was just a normal part of life that all people experience with their lovers. Blah, blah, blah. I get it, you both have needs and urges, all right?”

  “All right,” Celeste agreed. “No more of your little jokes about it, okay?”

  “Fine,”
I said. “No more little jokes.”

  After the talk, I exited the backdoor and headed for my cabin.

  Spotting a bed of freshly bloomed flowers from Celeste’s garden—I paused. The multicolored silky petals were glittered with drops of fresh dew. Would it be crazy if I put flowers on a stranger’s grave? I thought to myself. I recalled how bad in shape the headstone was, nearly covered and forgotten into the earth. How could someone just forget about a headstone? The thought of mommy Gloria’s headstone being in the same bad shape unsettled me. I would never let that happen to hers and I’d want someone to tend to it when I wasn’t able to. With a swift yank, I ripped off a few of the different types of flowers—forming them into an arrangement. They were already off the plant, so I might as well do it. No sense in letting the beautiful flowers wilt for nothing.

  Inside the cabin, I set the flowers in a small bucket—along with an old toothbrush, a pair of gloves, and a small bottle of water. I went out the back of the cabin and walked diligently into the lush forest, taking a few quick looks back at my home as it distanced with every step I took. The search George and I had done had proved that there were no wolves in the forest. Which was good, but just incase, I left a note saying where I’d be so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting bitten or mauled and dragged away to my death and not being found and given my own headstone.

  I wandered around for what seemed like ages before I found the same cluster of shrubs I had spotted the headstone in before. Sitting on the floor Indian-style, I began sprucing up the stone. A twig snapped somewhere close. There was nothing around me when I snuck a quick glance. Okay? I shrugged it away and put on the gloves.

  Only a few scratches kept the headstone from looking like new once I’d de-weeded it and scrubbed the letters as hard as I could to get them nice and cleaned. There were a few words damaged beyond repair, but it was still legible. My wrists hurt, but the sight of the polished stone made it worth it. I hope whoever Zunicio “Zuni” Sarantos is—or as the stone now read: Zunco Zui Saran, is looking down on me right now and smiling—appreciative of what I’d done for him. Hell, if I were able to see someone doing this for me when I’m gone, I’d make sure they got something in return. An extra day on earth. A gentle shove out of the way of a careening vehicle that was skidding toward them—a crisp hundred dollar bill that blew over to them by the wind. Come to think of it, where would I get the hundred dollars from? I’d be dead.

  I threw the gloves into the bucket and grabbed the bouquet by the stems. “Crap!” I stammered as a drop of blood plopped to the dirt. A thorn from one of the roses in the bouquet had pierced my thumb. Sucking on another forming drop of blood from the wound, I used my palm to move the flowers into place. Done. Phew! Another twig snapped behind me, only this time—husky growls followed. An electrifying sensation shot down my spine.

  I turned and found myself face to face with a brown eyed wolf. Looking at me with voracious eyes as its pink flat tongue curled around its snout—snarled up into a devilish grin that protruded rows of glossy, razor-sharp teeth. Oh shit! I thought. This is how you repay me Zunco?! By sending a fucking wolf to kill me?! Game over. I could feel my heart pounding in both my throat and ears as the rush of panic overtook me.

  The wolf backed a few steps away—still keeping its eyes and teeth on me as I got to my feet slowly. Trying as much as I possibly could to not make a sudden movement that would entice it to attack. It shifted low into a hunch—a single trail of its dark brown fur stood—erected like a razorback, going down its lengthy spine that lead to its bushy tail. It was ready to attack. “Nice wolf,” I said slowly. “I’m not going to hurt you. So, please, please don’t hurt me.”

  We circled each other as though we were in a daring game of musical chairs. Only there was no chairs—just dirt and trees. And there was no music cue—only me and a wolf—each unaware of the other’s intent. I dared myself to take a quick glance at my cabin—nothing but a small brown dot in the distance. Should I make a run for it? I asked myself. The wolf hunched deeper and let out another menacing growl that made my heart skip a beat.

  Yes! Go, go, go! I burst into a run for the cabin, leaving the bucket with the supplies behind. I ran as fast as I could. My legs—shaking with each forceful stomp after the other. I felt a knot forming in the back of my calf ready to contract at the slightest clench. Not now! Please don’t cramp on me now! I threw my head around my shoulder and snuck a glance. The wolf was far behind, smelling the headstone then peering over to me as I made my way through the edge of the forest. “Good!” I sighed with relief. It wasn’t following me.

  Bam! I shut the backdoor, locking both locks, and ran down the narrow corridor to my room. “I knew it!” I said aloud as I jumped onto the bed to fetch my charging phone. I was just about to dial George’s cell and tell him of my encounter when a thought lingered its way into my mind. Why didn’t the wolf follow me?”

  Later that night, I ate in silence at the table—which shocked both Celeste and George. Especially since I was usually the talkative one at dinner. George gave my cousin a look that said, ‘she-sure-must-be-traumatized-by-what-she-saw-us-doing-earlier.’ All she did was shrug and wipe her mouth with a napkin.

  “So what did you do all day?” Celeste asked, poking her fork through a piece of lettuce in her Caesar salad.

  I wanted to tell them of the incident earlier, but I knew that it would sound farfetched to them. Not only had George proved to me that there were no wolves—but why did I feel compelled to fix up the headstone? And I knew if Celeste had heard that I had spent my afternoon fixing up a headstone and nearly getting killed by a vicious wolf, she would more than likely send me back home—or an insane asylum. On top of that, she didn’t need any added stress. I didn’t want her to go into stress-induced labor on my account.

  “Somethin’ wrong?” George asked, taking a spatula to go back for seconds in the tray directly under the hanging fixture that emitted a yellowish-orange light against the already golden walls.

  I must of seemed a bit off.

  “No. I’m just tired, I guess.” I twirled a fork around the remains of my lasagna. “I got a job, though,” I changed the subject.

  “Really? That’s great. Where?”

  “At Chansile Café. Sarah’s parents own it and they needed a waitress, so-.”

  “Oh, Sarah’s the girl you were talking about earlier, right?” Celeste covered her mouth as she talked while she chewed. “When do you start?”

  “Tomorrow. She’s going to pick me up in the morning.”

  “By any chance, is this Sarah the waitress girl that served us last weekend?” George asked.

  I laughed, “Yeah, that’s her. We have English together.”

  “Who is your English teacher, by the way?” Celeste interjected, putting her glass of water down after taking a sip.

  “Well had you stayed, it would have been you—my beloved cousin.”

  “Really?” she said, as though it sounded odd. “So, how’s the permanent sub? Is he or she a hard-ass?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s actually pretty cool.”

  Celeste nodded, “Oh, well that’s good news. I wouldn’t want my students ending up with someone that was one of those jerk teachers for the rest of the year.”

  George took a bite from his fork and silence made its return.

  “So. Any ideas on your son’s name yet?” I asked. I was so used to eating dinner in my room while watching TV back home. I didn’t even think families actually eating at a table was still around.

  Celeste tried to speak, but finished chewing before she said, “Actually we’re still thinking. But, what names do you have in mind?”

  Me? “Why me?”

  “Just wondering. I just want to hear some of your thoughts.”

  I thought of all the names I could possibly think of before selecting one that I favored. “Jackson,” I finally said. Figuring the nicknames Jack would be adorable for a baby, and maybe Jay for when he was in high school. And e
ven so, it was a unisex name incase something happens and this boy they were expecting ends up being a girl. I’ve heard about it. The doctor tells a couple they’re expecting a boy, then in a bout of joy they go out and buy everything blue and other things deemed “boy-ish.” Then, a few months later they go from naming the baby Joseph to Josephine because at the last minute they found out all this time it was a girl.

  “Hmm,” Celeste pondered for a while. “I guess I’ll throw it into the ones we’re thinking of already.”

  “Which are?” I crumpled up the paper napkin I used to wipe my hands and set it on the plate.

  “Ryder, Jonathan, Nathan, Cruise, Colton, and George Jr.” Celeste counted off her fingers as she said each one. I added George’s last name Bell to the ends of each of the names. Jackson Bell would sound perfect. Like a name ripped straight out of a history book.

  I smiled at both of them, “I can’t wait to see my second cousin.” They exchanged a look, then turned back to me.

  “Rini, you know you’re like a little sister to me,” Celeste said earnestly, lowering her fork to the plate.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well, we were sorta thinking that maybe instead of a second cousin, you could think of this little baby of ours as your nephew.”

  “You mean-”

  “That’s right,” George cut in, “You’d be Aunt Rini.”

  “Oh, um. I don’t know what to say, you guys.” If I could, I probably would of said, say what? but instead, “I’m honored,” slipped from my mouth.

  The idea of being an aunt had to settle with me. For the most part, I absolutely loved the idea of having a nephew. Something I knew as a single child I was never going to get. I had a sister. She would have been about five by now. Unfortunately, she died shortly after birth. My mom never really got over it. And my dad, well, he was different after it. It was around the time I went through a whole dark, poetic phase.