The Torn Soul (The Sheynan Trilogy Book 3)

by Dylan Birtolo

“Is there anyone else you know of who could possibly take better care of himself?” She shook her head. “I didn’t think so. He’ll be fine. There’s just no way of knowing how long it will take.”

  “Well, then we need to figure out what we’re going to do in the meantime. He took the truck, and it’s almost an hour to town with it. We need more food. I was thinking of visiting Omba and asking if he’d drive me into town. If not, I have no idea what we’ll do.”

  “Why don’t you go check with him? I’ll take care of getting more water and chop some wood while you’re gone. Check the snares and see if maybe we got lucky.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Darien snagged his jacket and hustled out of the cabin. He shrugged into it as he made his way across the clearing and down the trail leading to the main road. About halfway down, there was a fork off to his left, leading to the edge of Spirit Lake. That was where Omba had his own cabin.

  They met him by chance during one of their trips to Packwood. He happened to be driving in as they were driving out, and they were forced to backup past the fork so that he could pass. After that, they introduced themselves and had shared more than one meal together. They mostly kept to their respective cabins, but it was nice to have a friendly face nearby, even if it was one you rarely saw.

  Omba was like them, living away from the hustle of the cities and trying to live in relative isolation. He never told them his story, and Darien never thought to ask. If Omba wanted to share, he would. It wasn’t as if he or Susan was willing to share their tale any time in the near future.

  While under the trees, Darien reveled in how alive the forest sounded around him. The birds overhead did not stop their singing when he walked by. Even animals in the brush ignored his presence as he passed near them. It never ceased to amaze him how much the animals, all of them, treated him like he was one of their own. That was a gift that he could still cherish and appreciate, even if he was hesitant to take on their forms.

  After taking the turn towards Omba’s cabin, the path climbed down at a steep angle. Once the snow and ice came, there was no way that Omba would be able to get his truck up this path. Even if he was willing, relying on Omba’s generosity was only a temporary solution at best. The winter weather might still be a few weeks out, but it would be best to be prepared.

  Long before Darien could see the cabin, he could smell it. An aroma of spiced meat penetrated through the ever-present scent of pine and caused Darien to lift his nose and inhale. It brought to mind the image of a grill party on someone’s backyard deck. Darien’s mouth watered and his stomach rumbled, despite the fact that he ate only a few hours ago.

  As he turned around a bend in the path, Darien saw the source of the aroma. Omba stood in front of a large green egg that was a couple of feet tall. It was some type of grill, and Omba was in the midst of flipping hearty pieces of chicken on the iron grating. He picked up the pot resting on the table by his side and spooned out sauce, slathering on generous helpings that dripped into the flames underneath and sizzled.

  Just beyond Omba was his cabin. It easily dwarfed the one that Susan and Darien shared. This one was at least twice the size and much more sophisticated. While Omba might have loved living in solitude, it was clear that he appreciated comfort as well. Darien was willing to bet he had running water. A small path ran from the cabin to the edge of the crystal-clear water the lake was named for.

  “Omba! Hello!”

  The large man finished checking on his chicken before he stood up straight and turned around. When he saw Darien, his face broke into a grin that threatened to split his face in half. He laughed a couple of times, a sound that filled the entire space between them. He had a large scar that ran down the side of his face and disappeared past the neck of his shirt, another mystery Darien had never wanted to ask about.

  “Darien! Welcome! You’re just in time. Almost finished this batch and trust me when I say it’s gonna be a good one.”

  Omba reached out smacked Darien hard on the shoulder, causing him to take a few steps to recover. Darien smiled through the wince, knowing that was just Omba’s way. He was the only person Darien knew who was larger than Richard. But where Richard was corded steel, Omba had a softness to his strength and shape.

  “Actually, for the first time, I’m kind of sad to see you cooking. I was hoping you could give me a lift to Packwood so I could get some groceries. We’re running low and Richard left with the truck.”

  Omba nodded as he turned back to his food, taking another sample from the sauce pan.

  “I heard when he crashed down the trail a couple of nights ago. I thought maybe one of you guys got drunk or something and decided to go on a joyride. Was worried I might need to start picking bodies out of the wreckage or something. Glad no one was hurt. Is Richard gone then? Not coming back?”

  “I don’t think so. Or at least, I don’t know when he’s coming back. It kind of caught us by surprise. We didn’t have a chance to stock up before he left. I thought it would be good to make a run to town before the weather gets too bad. But I didn’t know you were busy.”

  “It’s true, if I left right now, it would ruin this batch. And that would be such a waste; a crime against the grill gods. We can’t have that now, can we?” Again he laughed, finding his own joke more amusing than anyone else possibly could. He looked over and saw that Darien offered a weak smile in response. He shrugged and continued on. “You can just take my truck and bring it back when you’re done.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

  “Not a problem. I know you’ll be back. Besides, there’s barely a quarter of a tank in there, so you’ll need to fill up when you get to town. Consider it your payment. Keys are in the small dish right near the door.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

  Darien grabbed the keys from the cabin and went over to the beaten down truck parked next to the side of the building. It was an old Ford, colored blue but faded to the point of gray with more rust spots than original paint on it. He was pretty sure the truck might be older than he was, but it still got the job done. The door creaked as Darien opened it to climb inside. The interior had a musty smell of old leather and sweat. It was warm enough, so Darien rolled down the window to help alleviate the odor.

  As ancient as the vehicle may have been, it still rumbled faithfully to life when he turned the key in the ignition. He could feel the tremors through the seat and they made his entire body vibrate. It was a good thing he’d learned how to drive on a manual. It had been a few years since he had one, but the muscle memory came back quickly. Soon, he was hurtling down the path towards the main road, jerking the wheel back and forth to swerve around the bends and not smack into a tree.

  The path he was on finally broke out on the side of the state road. There was no gradual transition from dirt path to pavement. In fact, the first few times he took a trip to Packwood, he missed this turn on the way back. It was hidden enough on the edge of the road that if you didn’t know what you were looking for, it was easy to drive past. That was part of the appeal—living in solitude wouldn’t be helpful if anyone could find their way randomly up to the cabin.

  The state road was empty as he drove towards Packwood. That was not much of a surprise. Not many people came up into the mountains this time of year, and definitely not in the middle of the week. It felt strange as he drove into the town and saw people walking around on the streets. The flesh at the base of his neck began to crawl and he felt his shoulders tighten as people turned to watch him drive past. It still felt like he was being watched. He reached up his hand to run it through his hair and tried to shake loose some of the tension.

  He parked near the store, in one of the several open spots. There were only two other cars parked in the lot, one truck and an SUV. Both of the vehicles were ones that he had seen before on his previous trips. It was a small town, so even with his limited visits, he was getting to know a fair number of the people who lived here. They did
n’t ask a lot of questions and had come to accept him as another one of the semi-permanent residents, like Omba.

  The store was mostly empty except for the people working at the checkout stands. Darien saw a couple of people that he recognized, but didn’t know them more than in passing. As he turned the corner to the cereal aisle, he almost slammed his cart into a thin woman with long dark hair. She jumped back to get out of his way and apologized profusely. Darien recognized her and interrupted her apologies before she could get too far.

  “It’s all right, Anne. It’s my fault. I was the one whipping around the corners. Just in a bit of a rush to get back to the cabin I guess. Sorry I almost ran you over. Are you okay?”

  Anne smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. It seemed like whenever she wasn’t apologizing, she was smiling. She was one of the first people to provide a genuine welcome to Darien and his crew on their first trip to town.

  “It’s all right. I’m not so old that I can’t dodge a shopping cart now and again. Although, you might want to consider slowing down just a bit, for your own sake.”

  “I’ll take that under consideration. Getting your weekly shopping done a little early?”

  Anne turned around so that she could walk next to Darien while they talked. They walked down the aisle, with him picking up a few boxes and adding them to his cart.

  “I wish that was the case. I’m just getting some things to help Cole when he wakes up. He had another one of his episodes last night where he got stuck at the bar too late and started raving about wild animals. I wish they’d stop serving him. But, at least enough people know that they can drop him off at my place and I’ll make sure he’s taken care of. Better than freezing outside, if you ask me.”

  “You’re a saint and far too nice for your own good. You know that don’t you?”

  “I know. I just want to make sure that he’s going to be okay. If I don’t do it, who will? I’ve seen him sleeping on the street before. I just can’t let that happen again. Especially when it gets cold outside and starts to snow.”

  Darien just shook his head, but he had a smile on his face when he did it. “He’s very lucky you look after him.”

  “Speaking of that, I should finish up and head home so I can start making him some tea. It helps with his headaches. You take care of yourself, and say hi to Susan and Richard for me when you go back.”

  “Will do.”

  Darien finished up his shopping, collecting a mounded cart’s worth of groceries that should last him and Susan for a couple of months. As he was putting his groceries up on the conveyer belt, the pinprick sensation at the base of his skull started up again. It had begun to fade when he was talking to Anne and was surrounded by people that were at least familiar. Now it was back with renewed force. As he lifted the bag of flour up to the belt he looked over his shoulder, scanning for something or someone that did not belong.

  The store was still relatively empty, but he did see a few people that he didn’t recognize. Two of them were a young Asian couple talking to themselves in hushed voices as they walked up one of the aisles. They were dressed in classical outdoor gear, down to the hiking boots. Neither one of them seemed to even look in his direction.

  The other one was a woman dressed in jeans and wearing a leather coat that was zipped closed despite the heat in the store. She stood in front of one of the checkout counters, scanning the magazines. She picked one up and began to thumb through it, scanning over the pages as she turned them. How long had she been standing there? Darien couldn’t remember. He could almost hear Richard’s voice admonishing him for not paying attention to his surroundings. Was she actually reading the magazine, or peering at him over the edge of it?

  Maybe he was being paranoid. Darien shook his head and continued to unload the food and supplies from his cart. He helped to bag them, hoping to expedite the process. It took all of his mental effort not to run out the door with the cart after he paid. Instead, he maintained a brisk walk to his vehicle, turning back to look over his shoulder and see if any of the people followed him. The one woman was still looking through her magazine while the couple had just gotten up to the front to check out their armful of snacks.

  Darien relaxed a bit as he loaded his bags into Omba’s truck. The tension in his shoulders was still strong as he got back on the road, heading towards the cabin. Once he passed the last speed trap, he sped up, trying to put as much distance between him and that sensation of being followed.

  Chapter 3

  The sun was setting as Darien drove back down Highway 12, already turning the sky from grey and blue to a combination of red and orange. He was about halfway back to the turn off when he noticed the glare of lights coming up behind him. They maintained a steady distance, but would always show up in his rearview mirror shortly after turning a corner. Darien eased off the gas and slowed down, curious to see what the vehicle would do. He didn’t want it to be obvious if he pressed on his brakes.

  The car quickly caught up to him and was soon almost against his bumper. After about half a mile on the narrow curving road, the driver of the vehicle flashed his brights at Darien. In response, Darien turned on his hazards and pulled to the edge of the side road as much as he possibly could. The other car swerved around him and sped away.

  Darien let loose a sigh and forced his fingers to uncurl from the steering wheel a few times before he made his way back onto the road and continued to head towards the cabin. He was probably just being paranoid. Being around people that he didn’t know, or even people that he did know for that matter, always made him nervous. The only ones that he could relax around were Susan and Richard. Even Omba put him on edge sometimes, like he was being a bit too friendly.

  If nothing else, this was a good reason to stay in isolation for a while. All of this paranoia couldn’t be good for him or Susan. It would be better to just be away for a bit. The debatable part was how long qualified as “a bit”.

  The turn was coming up, so Darien slowed down, trying to make sure that he didn’t miss it. Up ahead, he could faintly make out the tail lights of the Oregon driver who passed him. Otherwise the road was dark and empty now that the sun had dropped below the horizon line. Darien began the slow, jostling drive up the trail to the cabin.

  When he had gone about a quarter of a mile, Darien saw a flash of light flicker in his rear view mirror. At first he wasn’t sure that he saw it. He stopped the truck and turned around, staring intently into the darkness behind him, but saw nothing. After several breaths, he resumed his trip. Another flash danced across his vision, and he was pretty sure it was headlights.

  It wasn’t paranoia if someone was actually after you. With that thought in mind, Darien turned off the truck and killed the lights. He crawled out of the cab and crouched over as he ran to the side of the trail. Once he felt like he was far enough away, he skulked back along it, towards the lights that were following him. His breathing picked up, and it had nothing to do with the quick dash.

  Before too long, Darien saw the telltale twin beams of light bouncing around as a car navigated the mountain path. Darien dropped to the ground, flattening himself and taking cover behind a couple of trees. He peered around them, trying to get a good view of his pursuit. It was a small sedan, but beyond that, he couldn’t see anything because of the blinding glare from the headlights. As the vehicle passed him, he saw the familiar Oregon plates of the other driver on the highway.

  Darien froze, waiting to see what the driver would do when he saw the abandoned truck sitting in the middle of the trail. It was not possibly wide enough for someone to go around. And besides, it was pretty clear that the driver was following him. Otherwise, he would’ve turned down this path long before Darien did.

  The car slid to a halt with the scrape of dirt and rocks as the brake lights bathed everything in a bright red glow. Darien held his breath, trying to sink lower into the dirt and be unnoticed. Both the driver’s and passenger’s doors opened, and the couple that he saw in the gro
cery store stepped out. He looked closer, paying more attention now.

  The man was tall and lanky, dressed in jeans and wearing a flannel shirt with a windbreaker jacket over it. He had a knitted hat pulled tight over the top of his head down to his ears. As he stared at the car, he rubbed his hand over the top of his head. The woman was a bit shorter, with dark hair pulled into a ponytail that came just to the top of her shoulders. She leaned on the car with one arm and her jacket pulled up when she made the motion. She wore a holster of some kind on her right hip.

  “Where do you think he went?”

  The guy spoke in a loud whisper, hissing his words to his companion. Darien was close enough that he had no trouble hearing them over the sound of the engine. The woman didn’t respond. Instead, she turned, peering into the woods surrounding them.

  “He must have a cabin up here somewhere. There’s no other reason he’d turn down this road. He couldn’t have known we were following him.”

  The woman held out her hand and turned her open palm to the ground, silencing her companion. She made a quick gesture with her hand in a circle and the man nodded. They both reached into the car and pulled out flashlights. They moved away from each other, fanning out and searching the woods on either side of the path. For a moment, Darien hoped he would get lucky and they would search up the trail, away from him. Unfortunately, it looked like luck decided not to favor him as the woman—the one on his side of the path—turned in his direction. Branches cracked underneath her as she walked forward, making no attempt to hide her approach.

  Each second brought the woman closer and narrowed his chances of escape. Darien looked around, trying to figure out how he might be able to get away without shifting. She hadn’t drawn her gun yet. If he got up and ran into the woods, he might be able to get far enough away before she could get a good shot on him. The other option was to slink away and hope that she wouldn’t hear him moving. For a moment, he froze, not sure which course of action would increase his chance of success.