The Dryad's Kiss

by Scott VanKirk

  The next day, that dream overpowered all my thoughts and fears about Erik and Frankies.

  I floated to school, somehow riding above the bus and the tedium. Once I got there, the peashooter of life shot me down quickly again.

  The little darts flying my way came like this:

  “Way to go, Finn.”

  “You jerk. You got us all banned from Frankies.”

  “Pissant.”

  “Twit.”

  “Idiot.”

  It took singular talent to get on the shit list of the entire school by just standing in place looking stupid.

  During morning study period, I found Gregg, Dave, and Jim in the science lab. I sulked up to them and grumbled, “Damn, you’d think we killed grandma or had proven masturbation really does cause hairy palms and blindness.”

  I tossed my pack down with a whack and then sat with a similar thump.

  “I assume you guys are getting the same shit from everyone for getting them thrown out of Frankies?”

  Jim’s eyebrows arched, and he shook his head. “Nope, no one has said anything to me.”

  I set my gaze on Gregg with his puffy and discolored split lip.

  He shook his head, too. “Nope, got a few people telling me how much they’d like to see Parmely tossed in a deep hole, but not much else.”

  Dave tapped his pen against his notebook. “I got some shit for having a total butt-head like you for a friend, but that’s it.”

  “No way! I’m getting the leper treatment. I can’t believe I’m being singled out for this.”

  Then, my friends’ straight faces cracked as they laughed at me, and my self-righteous bubble burst.

  “You pricks! You set me up!”

  Dave laughed the loudest. “Relax, Mighty! We’re all getting the same treatment.”

  Embarrassment and relief warred to be my first response. While those two emotions were duking it out, anger tried to usurp them both, but Dave’s infectious laugh and good-natured ribbing spurred my sense of humor to victory. Finally, I laughed, too. If I had to be on Team Pariah, I couldn’t think of any teammates I’d rather have.

  Vengeance

  That night I had another especially real and intense dream of my dryad. It was like seeing an old friend. Actually, it was like seeing a hot and sexy, libido-rocket of a friend, but a friend nonetheless. It started a lot like the other dreams, but this time, when she disappeared around the tree, she actually popped out a moment later, grabbed me, and pulled me into the tree with her.

  After the initial shock of overwhelming strangeness wore off, I became aware of more than just being in a tree. The slumbering strength of the oak surrounded me; the memories of years spread through its essence and into my mind. Its vital and peaceful presence cradled me like a lover. I don’t remember much after that, but I can still recall that part of the dream clearly.

  The next morning, I got a call from my boss at the Grease Burger. My boss needed someone to close Tuesday night and asked if I could do it. At first, I said, “No,” but he kept pushing. Finally, when he offered me time-and-a-half, I gave in. I also made it conditional on closing an hour early. He agreed when I pointed out that no one ever came in after seven anyway. I talked to my parents about it.

  “I don't know Finn. It's awfully close to finals. Are you sure it wouldn't be a better idea to stay home, study, and get to bed early?” my mom said.

  I waved my hand in dismissal. “Don't worry about it Mom. I'll be home eight thirty at the latest so it won't impact school tomorrow. Besides, we'll be spending the day in review so I don't have any homework.”

  Unfortunately for me, as expected, she caved. “Well, okay, but come straight home.”

  “I will Mom.”

  Of course, I hadn’t been entirely on the up-and-up with Mom. In a small stretch of the truth, I’d insinuated that I had my class work under complete control. Actually, I’d continued having trouble concentrating, so I wasn’t feeling so good about my schoolwork. I felt a little uncomfortable not telling Mom the absolute truth, but decided I wouldn’t have spent the time studying anyway.

  I rode my bike to school that day, so I could head over to the Grease Burger after class.

  People didn’t consider Mighty Burger much of a dinner place, making the evening shift a good time to do homework or relax. It only took two of us to run it, and cleanup was generally easy if the earlier shifts had done their job. One front man ran the register, assembled the various ice cream treats, and cleaned up after the nogoodnik customers too lazy to clear their tables. The other stayed in the back, cooking the burgers and fries. That night, Effy was my back room man. He was a high school dropout, surfer dude wanna be, and dope-head about ten years older than me.

  Having Effy as my wingman always made the night easier since he worked harder than most of the other employees, and if I could get around the marijuana stench, he was pleasant company. Though, he did have a tendency to drift out of reality, he could be herded back on task with a couple of words, and he rarely burned the fries or burgers. He also didn’t mind cleaning up if you let him go out back for a “cigarette” break first.

  We had a “dinner rush” of five people around six o’clock and then a few stragglers after that for dessert.

  Only one thing marred my evening. About halfway through my shift, Erik's wing man Chester strutted into the restaurant. He only met my eyes momentarily before he did a one-eighty and split. It didn't break my heart, and I didn't think anything more of it.

  After we closed, I got the front areas cleaned up and headed back to help Effy, because running the fryers all day tended to coat everything in grease. It took a bit of effort to get the back area clean, so while we scrubbed away, I had an interesting conversation with him.

  “Hey, Effy?”

  “Finneas my main dude. What’s up?” He worked on the back wall of the fryer, using an old, gray-spotted cloth to wipe off chunks of grease.

  “I saw a ghost this weekend.”

  He stopped, and his brow scrunched—if anyone would take what I said seriously, it was Effy. “Whoa, dude! That is totally righteous. You know, those things totally exist.”

  “Yeah, this one came right out of the ground. It turned into a bear and chased me.”

  “That’s so cool. Yeah, I knew someone who died once. He said that there was this freaky light that kept blinking on and off. Then he woke up and tossed cookies all over the doctor. Do you think that’s what your ghost saw?”

  I considered this question for a moment and decided I could safely ignore it. “It came after me and ended up attacking this girl that I was with.”

  “Wow, did he, like, eat her or something?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Or, did he get down and have his way with her? That would be totally rude, ya know.”

  I shook my head and cracked a smirk. “No, it didn’t do that either.”

  “That’s good. I’ll bet you a bear is hung like a horse.”

  It was quite the vivid metaphor, but it impressed me more that he could remember that far back in the conversation. Of course, then his train of thought headed off to Effyville.

  “Do you think you can get pregnant from doing it with a ghost?” His pockmarked face lit up. “Hey, I’ll bet that’s where they got Casper! That little dude is totally radical. Got those puffy cheeks. I could totally smoke him, man.”

  I had to laugh. Effy’s mental processes always entertained me long as I didn’t spend too much time imagining what his world looked like inside his head.

  I shot a glance at my watch. Oops! Time to redirect Effy so we could get out of here.

  “Hey Effy, ya missed a spot.”

  “Dude, thanks!”

  I got him going, and he went back to work, talking to himself about Casper. I’d never actually seen the cartoon, but somehow I picked it up through cultural osmosis.

  In any event, we finished and locked up. Effy took off down the road to wherever he went. I got on my bike and heade
d home.

  The fading light made me think twice about heading through the Garnet’s wooded lot as usual, but it cut several minutes off my trip. The trail through it was bumpy, but there were no drivers dealing with the twilight to worry about. The Garnets never seemed to mind, so unaware of what a bad idea it was, I headed in.

  I made it to the middle of the four-acre lot, watching the trail ahead for low branches and broken bottles, when something knocked me off my bike. I fell into the brush at the side of the trail. The fall left me a bit stunned, and I didn’t have time to process Erik’s sneering face before Chester and Ricky had me off the ground and smacked against a tree. They split the job, one per arm.

  Erik advanced on me with a bat in his hand. Adrenalin kicked in, and I struggled hard to get free of his two goons. My panicked strength let me jerk them around a little bit, but I couldn’t break free. Erik approached with hatred painted across his face, his lips wound into a sneer, and his heavy brow was pulled tight, nearly hiding his eyes. Livid bruising and swelling on his face emphasized the hatred. The entire left side of his face was a mangled mess. Recently, someone had severely beaten him. His lip was cracked and puffy, and his swollen, red left eyelid made the malice peering out from behind it a testament of violence.

  I panicked and clawed for some way to control the situation. “No, Erik! You don’t want to do this!”

  His face distorted into an asymmetric evil grin. “Oh, yes I do.”

  “You already hit me more than I hit you.”

  “Yeah, my dad kicked the shit out of me when he found out about it. You got me tossed out of school, and now I’m going to kick the shit out of you. You’ll be lucky if you heal up enough to go back to school by next fall.”

  I eyed his bat. “No, Erik, don’t! Jesus, you could kill me with that thing!”

  He scowled at me as he wound up to take the first swing. “And wouldn’t that be a damn shame.” He swung the bat right at my head with a wordless scream.

  I screamed along with him. A burst of manic strength flowed through me, and I wrenched both arms free from the two goons. They went sprawling, and I simultaneously ducked and raised my arms up to ward off the blow. I knew that bat would break both my arms, and my adrenalin-soaked brain searched frantically for any way to stop it. When he was done with my arms, then he would start on my head.

  The terrible reality of the moment came packaged as one sweeping gestalt. It was related to the feeling you get when you are on your bike, and you hit the curb wrong. As you’re going over your handlebars, you know exactly how much of a world of hurt you’re in for, and you’d give anything to interrupt your journey to Planet Pain. I braced for the impact, for the pain. The bat connected with my forearms and the force of the blow staggered me, but it couldn’t be compared to what happened next.

  A wave of heat flowed through my entire body and the bat shattered on my arms. It didn’t crack or break in two; it shattered, sending wooden shrapnel in all directions. I staggered back and gawked at my arms in shock.

  They weren’t bloody or broken, and the pain I expected never arrived. I assumed that the agony snapped some circuits in my brain, which could reset at any moment. I braced for it. Unexpectedly, Chester had both his hands on his face. Parmely and Ricky both were stunned with bloody scratches on their cheeks and foreheads. Erik ran his hand over his chin, and it came away dark twilight red. He looked at his hand and then down at the ragged bat handle still clutched in his grip.

  Everything stopped for a moment. The hope that they might all just give up and go home flashed through me. About that time, it occurred to me that my distracted captors had released me, so I turned and ran. Of course, running away from predators is just begging them to chase you. As I sprang away, the handle of the bat flew past my head and smacked against a tree. Whatever circuits had popped in Erik’s mind had reset. He yelled at the others. Shortly thereafter, I fell face-down into the leaves and bushes.

  Ricky had tackled me, and before I could crawl any distance, he flipped me over and grabbed my arms. Erik walked up, the bleeding cuts adding texture to the rage on his face, which was distorted to the point that he barely looked human. He hauled back and kicked me in the ribs.

  Bright agony flashed from the point of impact. Nothing wrong with those circuits. I cried out, and then they beat me with a ceaseless rain of blows. I managed to pull my arms down, curl up, and protect my head against the overwhelming assault. They beat me mercilessly, and I couldn’t think through the pain. I could only curl up tighter, hoping to protect my vital organs. The blows kept coming, and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t do anything but cry out at each new impact.

  The next thing I remember is fleeing through the woods. The fear that they’d find me again added to the agony, the humiliation, and the shame, which filled my muddled brain. They had beaten me, and I had been utterly helpless. Nothing ran through my mind but the need to get home. I needed to be safe. They had broken me in more ways than one.

  It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe. Somewhere along that long walk home, the ache in my face took on new significance when I realized that the damage done to my left eye had swollen it shut. I gingerly touched my cheek and jerked back from the sharp answering stab of pain. The deep twilight made it hard to tell, but the sticky wetness on my fingers couldn't just have been tears.

  After I crossed Granville, instead of following the roads around, I stumbled home through the back woods. I fell more than once and picked myself up each time. All the while, the imperative to be home and safe pushed me onward.

  When I emerged from the woods behind my house, the sight of my oak—my strong, safe oak, dominated my attention. The need to be home changed into a need to be held in her branches. It was my safe place, my hideaway, and I yearned for both those things.

  The idea of letting my dad or mom see me like this horrified me. Broken, defeated, humiliated—no, I couldn’t let that happen, couldn't bear to see their reaction to their failure of a son. I staggered to my tree and climbed. Every muscle and bone hurt as I clambered up the tree, but I had been climbing that tree since I was a small child, scaling it was second nature. Step up, put your foot in that knot, grab that branch stub, pause, breathe through the pain, and lift your foot to the next spot.

  Tears rolled down my face as I dropped onto my branch. With the strength of that trunk behind me and the security of the bole cradling me, I finally felt safe, but the tears wouldn’t stop. I leaned back against her. A pulsing warmth radiated against my chest, and I remembered my bear.

  Frantic with fear that it had been damaged in the fight, I scrabbled to pull it out. The darkness and the tears, which filled my eyes, made it difficult to see, but to my relief, the whistle seemed intact. I dropped my hands to my lap, leaned my head back against my oak, and let go of the world.

  Be the Bear

  Two glowing red eyes stared at me through the darkness. I focused on them, and the eyes flared and grew. Their red light merged and expanded to fill my entire vision. I flinched away, but the solid oak of my tree faded and I fell backward onto the frozen ground.

  Drums played, and a man chanted. A terrible roar of anger shook the night, answered by the enraged cry of a cougar. I shook my head to clear it and tried to stand. Pain flared though my body as I staggered to my feet and took in the scene around me.

  To my right, at the far side of the clearing, Jeff stood a little behind a roaring bonfire in his ceremonial gown, wearing gleaming copper ornaments and tanned white deerskin. The way his brow was pinched in pain revealed the strain of maintaining the chant. Tears rolled down his face, and his chant brought sorrow and command as it ebbed and flowed over me.

  Memory struck a chord of fear inside of me. I turned to the battle raging to my left just in time to see a monstrous beast throw two bloody halves of Dave’s mangled body contemptuously aside. When he was alive, Dave had carried the spirit of Eagle, but now Eagle had fled along with Dave’s life. A spear of grief found its mark in my heart.
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br />   The monster was Wendigota. Half again as large as a man, he was a twisted caricature of a man with obscenely huge muscles and distorted proportions. His head bulged in strange places. It was covered in asymmetrical horn-like growths, and his skin hung loose, covered in scabrous lesions. We were fighting to destroy Wendigota, to remove its scourge from our lands. Five of us started this battle, our four spirit warriors and Jeff, our shaman.

  Gregg, wearing the form of great Cougar, screamed his challenge and threw himself on Wendigota’s turned back. Even though Wendigota towered above a normal man and was five times his strength, Cougar was twice as large as any lesser cat, and his mass carried Wendigota to the ground. Accompanied by massive spouts of blood, Gregg the Cougar’s claws ripped and shredded Wendigota’s flesh as he tried to gain hold of Wendigota’s spine with his flashing teeth.

  Alan the Rattlesnake struck from the shadows, his rattles booming like thunder. His body as large as a man’s arms could encompass, flexed, and propelled his lethal bite into Wendigota’s unprotected side. Rattlesnake struck again and again, filling Wendigota’s body with liquid fire.

  Hope soared in my breast as victory seemed possible, but Wendigota crushed that fleeting hope with a mighty heave of its body. It dislodged Gregg, and in a movement nearly too fast to see, he spun and captured Gregg in a face-to-face embrace. Cougar’s claws savaged Wendigota’s body and head, shredding the monster's ears, but the wounds closed as quickly as Cougar made them. Wendigota’s cheeks purpled with the effort as he squeezed. I cried out to Gregg as he slowly succumbed to that inexorable pressure.

  I pulled out Bear’s totem and used it to call upon his spirit. I asked Bear to fill me once more with his power, and he answered. The fiery pain of his spirit infused me, and I became Bear. As before, Wendigota seemed to shrink before me as Bear lent me his strength and rage. I cried a roar of challenge and sprinted to save my friend.