To this day, I don’t understand my reluctance to share my confusion with my parents, just that I felt I couldn’t possibly let them know how sitting in my tree overnight and being cradled in the arms of a dryad had healed me. Things might have been easier, harder, or just different, if I had told them. I guess the fear of losing my parents’ trust and esteem outweighed all my other considerations.
“Finn, don’t go all macho on me. That blood didn’t come out of you for no reason,” pointed out my mom. “Remember, I saw your shirt and pants this morning.”
I nodded without meeting her eyes.
Cha-clink. My dad tossed the car keys in his hand. “Okay, then let’s go.”
When we reached the police station, we sat down with a clerk and related what had happened. He took my information in a fast and matter-of-fact process. I tried to downplay the bat and the beating, but stuck mostly to the facts. He didn't seem to care one way or another. I wonder what he'd think if I had been his kid.
He took my statement, a couple of pictures, and my dad’s request for a restraining order. In no time, we were headed back home.
After we pulled into the garage, my dad asked me about my bike. I told him that I had left it where I’d been jumped, explained exactly where it should be, and he left to go retrieve it. Though I wanted to go with him, he insisted I stay home.
Concentrating on my reading for English class proved nearly impossible as I waited for dad to return. I just couldn’t get the words through my brain. After reading three pages with no idea what I had read, I put the book down. I couldn’t face the idea of homework or watching TV, so I lounged around thinking about everything that had happened. When I saw my tree nymph in my dreams again, I’d ask her about my freakish healing. It’s not that I wanted to hurt, but my lack of pain and broken bits threatened my faith in a physics-based world.
For as long as I can remember, my dad has insisted that we live in a mechanistic universe. He scoffed at the ideas of various religions and any suggestion of the supernatural. Physics was his faith, and he saw no need for anything else. I inherited his views through osmosis. From time to time, I have certainly wished there were something more, but I knew that I would be deceiving myself if I chose to believe it.
You can imagine then that everything that happened to me recently, seriously disturbed my peace.
Dad had the bike with him when he returned. It surprised me that it didn’t seem any worse for the wear. Of course, it hadn’t been in sterling shape before, so a few more scratches would be hard to pinpoint. He parked it in the garage and then came into the kitchen where Mom was making dinner. Normally, Dad cooked Thursday nights, but Mom had volunteered to take over so he could look for my bike.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully with no rules of physics obviously being broken. I headed to bed early, and of course, when the dreams of my dryad did inevitably come that night, they were like most dreams and just followed their own logic. The daytime questions I'd wanted to ask never entered my sleeping mind, and I simply chased after her retreating form through the woods. When I finally caught her, she spun around in my arms, pressed her bare chest to mine, and wrapped me in a deep kiss. Her lips were warm silk, and every part of her felt hot against my skin. That’s when I realized I was naked too. She pulled back from me, and I wasn’t strong enough to stop her. For a moment, I met her deep green gaze, and then she smirked wickedly, looked down at my crotch, turned, and fled. I followed her glance down and was amazed to see a particularly large, uh, indication of my feelings. I mean really large. I know it was a dream, because I could still walk and I didn’t even blush, I just whooped and sprung after the fleeing nymph with my little diving board flopping in front of me.
The chase continued right to the moment a giant black bear rose up in front of me. I screeched to a halt and stared up at the massive dark shadows. Suddenly, the pleasant sunny woods was gone, and I stood in a shadowed, dark, cold place. The bear's red eyes regarded me with displeasure. I quailed before it. There was something it wanted from me, something important, but I didn't know what. The bear cried out a sound full of despair and longing, then came crashing down onto all fours and disappeared, leaving me in a dark woods staring at an ominous, dark hill.
Thursday morning I woke up tired, but not exhausted. I really didn’t pay much attention to school that day and couldn’t tell you what we went over in my classes. My classmates and my teachers spent most of the day giving me strange looks. You don’t see someone beaten black and blue wandering the school too often—especially with a large grin on their face. The day passed in a haze, but during lunch hour, I told my friends what had happened with Erik. (No way was I telling them that dream.) Appropriately and gratifyingly, my whole ordeal shocked them.
Gregg wanted to be supportive, but was skeptical when I told him about the bat shattering on my arm. I had to agree with his sentiment—even I found it hard to believe.
“Yeah, it was downright weird. The last thing I remember thinking was that I would give anything not to have that bat hit me.”
The implication that had previously escaped my conscious mind suddenly hit me, and I bit my lip in worry. It wasn’t possible. Just wishing hard could not cause a bat to explode against my arm.
“Holy shit!” I said. “The whole idea of a bat shattering on my arm is pretty absurd, isn’t it?”
Gregg nodded solemnly while chewing on his bite of sandwich. Everyone else reflected his doubt to varying degrees.
“Crap! I wonder if I just dreamed that part.” I scowled at my own sandwich sitting on the lunchroom table in front of me. “That would explain why he didn’t break my arms!”
Jim, who had been sitting silently until then, grimaced and nodded. “That’s some scary stuff, Finn.”
I suddenly felt lost. Was it really possible that I was losing my marbles and hallucinating? That certainly would make more objective sense than being healed by a tree or shattering bats on my arms. Both Gregg and Jim saw it too, I could tell by the look on their faces. A nice warm-up to how I was going to feel when I got home that evening.
As usual, I got home before my parents. I kicked off my shoes, poured myself a bowl of corn flakes and milk, and sat down in front of my computer. My homework was piled, up in my bag, but I just couldn’t get myself to crack a book. I pulled up World of Warcraft aka WoW, and played with my friends online until my parents arrived on their bikes an hour later. I shut down the game and went down to say, “Hi.” They came in, and my mom gave me a hug.
After dropping his things on the kitchen table, my dad turned to me. “Son, I have some bad news for you.”
“Oh yippy-yay.” I said, not taking him seriously.
“Erik and his goons have claimed that you jumped them.”
“What?”
“They told the police that you jumped them with a bat and beat Erik up. They said they only fought back in self-defense.”
I tried to let this sink in, but it just wouldn’t. I kept expecting Rod Serling to come out while do de do do, do de do do… began playing in the background. He would say, “I present to you the strange case of Ian Finn Morgenstern, an average, inoffensive, nerdy high school student, beaten with a bat by a group of bullies. Finn has just unwittingly struck out… in the Twilight Zone.”
No one could believe that ridiculous story… could they? “Dad, that’s the dumbest thing I have ever heard!” I thought for a second and added, “I forgot! When Erik jumped me, he was already pretty beat up. He said his dad beat him because he got expelled from school, and he was just passing it on.”
Dad half shook his head. “Damn, that’s bad. We’re going to have to see if there’s something we can do for him, maybe call social services, after we make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”
I absolutely agreed with that last sentiment—especially if that “anyone” were me.
“Anyway, the deputy told me about Erik’s allegations today when I talked to him. Said the boys showed up at the hospital e
arly this morning pretty beat up. Two of them had gashes and cuts on their faces where they claimed you attacked them with the bat after you broke it on Erik’s ribs.”
It wasn't me who was going crazy, it was the world. “Dad, that didn’t happen! I didn’t even get a single punch in! They had me down and were beating me and kicking me before I could do anything!”
“We know Finn.” My mom had obviously heard everything from Dad. “Unfortunately, the police are taking them seriously. Like you mentioned earlier, Erik came in beat up pretty badly, but both the other boys did too. All of them had injuries that may have been caused by a bat.”
“They didn’t come in until this morning! They beat me up two days ago! How do they explain that?”
“I asked that myself. They said they were afraid for their lives and that they had been hiding all day.”
“Dad, Mom! No one is going to believe that. These guys are douche-bag, lowlife scum. They get in fights all the time!”
Mom flinched. “Finn, please don’t call them that. We know that their story is false, but there are three of them, and they have been severely hurt. The police have no choice but to look into their claims.”
Since I had nothing to say to that, my dad let the other shoe drop.
“Finn, the police have requested you come down to the station this afternoon and give another statement.”
I pulled out a kitchen chair and collapsed onto it. “Oh my God, I’m going to go to jail!”
“Finn, don’t be ridiculous,” my mom said. “Things will all turn out okay. They usually do.”
I gawked at her. “Apparently, you don’t watch the news much. There are three of them, Mom. They’re going to get me thrown in jail!”
My dad’s lips thinned with tension. “Finn, don’t you speak to your mother like that.”
I flushed, dropped my eyes to the floor, and said meekly, “Sorry, Mom.”
She bent over and gave me a hug to let me know everything was all right between us. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”
I had a hard time believing that.
The Dream Police
On our way to the police station again, my dad said, “I called in a favor with a detective I know. She’s going to look into it and interview you, Erik, and the others.”
From the back seat, I asked, “Where did you meet a detective?”
“She’s the daughter of one of the Shawnee I worked with back before I met your mother.”
I threw all my sparkling wit into my answer. “Oh.”
I’d sort of known my dad had worked with some Indians, but not much else.
“Dad, what did you do for them?”
“I worked on some geological claims for them.”
“Oh. Do you think there is any way Hatzer might let us go back to the mound, just to sort of dig around?”
“What? Why? What made you think of that?” He sounded surprised, but there was something else in his voice that I couldn't pinpoint.
“I don't know, I guess I just really want to go back there. I know there is other stuff we can find.” Hm, talk about your weird brain farts, where did that thought come from? I shook it off. “Never mind. Just a random thought. Maybe I thought about it because you mentioned the Shawnee.”
When we walked into the detective’s office, I didn’t meet the frumpy middle-aged woman I had been expecting. Instead, a tall, lean, twenty-to-thirty something with jet-black hair and supermodel features met us. She kept her hair pulled back in a tight bun with a few stray strands falling around her shoulders and cheeks. Her face had the exotic look of someone with a fair amount of Native American heritage in her blood, and she had lean, expressive lips and big brown eyes. A man could drown in those eyes if he could tear his own off how suggestively her body filled out her uniform.
Of course, I just stood there, stunned, unable to move past the door.
“Vicky! Good to see you!” said my dad.
She smiled at him and stood. Her melodic contralto voice did tingly stuff to my toes. “Jack! It’s been too long!”
My dad walked up to her and gave her a big hug. Jealousy is an ugly thing, especially when you’re jealous of your own father. In that moment, I fancied I knew how Hamlet felt. (I was a little fuzzy on the classics.)
My dad turned to me with an arm outstretched in introduction. “Detective Victoria Hunter. I’m pleased to introduce you to my son, Ian Finn Morgenstern.”
I crept into the room, and she offered her hand with a polite smile.
“Mr. Morgenstern, I’m pleased to meet you.”
I hesitantly took her hand, afraid that touch might give away my infatuation. “Detective Hunter, I’m pleased to meet you, too.”
She had a firm handshake, which I tried hard to match. She indicated a chair, and I sat down.
“Can I call you Ian, or would you prefer Mr. Morgenstern?”
“Uh, Finn is fine,” I squeezed out. Inspiration hit me. “What should I call you?”
“I find that 'Detective Hunter' works best when pursuing police business,” she said.
My wild fantasies about midnight assignations with this woman crumbled. I really wanted to be on a first name basis with her.
She added, “Any other time, you can call me Vicky.”
I brightened up immediately.
“First, let me explain that I’m looking into this case as a favor to your dad. Since I’ve known him for so long, this could be construed as a conflict of interest. I’ll have to precede every report I make with that admission.”
I nodded uncertainly. “Okay.”
“That being the case, I’ll have to make my reports as neutral as possible and confine myself to facts. The main thing I can do is help expedite this investigation and get it over with as quickly as possible. I’ll get the case in front of the prosecutor and make sure you don’t fall into any administrative black holes.”
She grinned at her little metaphor, and I smiled back, even though getting the case in
front of a prosecutor sounded ominous.
“Sounds good to me.”
She pulled out an iPad from her topmost desk drawer. “Do I have your permission to tape the interview while taking notes?”
I mutely nodded my understanding, and she began.
“Finn, tell me what happened to you last Tuesday evening. Please leave nothing out.”
I related everything to her that I could remember while trying to appear as sincere and honest as possible. We talked for at least an hour, going over every detail. I even told her about the bat and then shared the doubts I had since raised. When I rambled to a stop, she poked at her tablet for a moment, sucked in her lower lip, and chewed on it a bit, then leaned on her desk and caught my gaze.
“Finn, your testimony is a bit unclear in places, especially about the bat. Did Erik hit you with a bat?”
“Well, I'm not sure.”
“Do you remember him hitting you with a bat?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, do you remember the bat shattering on your arm?”
I nodded.
“Can you please answer me verbally?”
I nodded and then belatedly said, “Yes... Yes, I remember the bat shattering on my arm. You know that feeling you get when you're going over the handlebars of your bike, and you know how much it’s gonna hurt?”
“I think I can imagine it.”
“Well that was what I was thinking.”
It wasn't the most coherent explanation on my part, but she managed to glean my meaning. “You were thinking how much it was going to hurt?”
I nodded then hurriedly added, “Yes.”
“Close your eyes and remember the event for me.”
I did as she asked.
“Now, tell me everything you noticed when you were there.”
“Um, well, I remember how big his arm muscles were.”
“Okay, good. What else?”
“I remember his face. He was all beat up, but he
was so full of hate.”
“Go on.”
“He screamed when he swung the bat at me.”
“What did he scream?”
“Uh nothing, it was just a scream.”
“All right, anything else?”
“Just how terrified I was. I knew he was going to break both my arms.”
“What happened next?”
I swallowed trying to hold off the panic I felt at the memory. “I put my arms up in front of the bat. I closed my eyes. The bat smacked into my arms, and I heard it crack. When I looked up, Erik was holding half a bat and Chester was screaming about his face...”
She interrupted me. “Okay, move forward, what happened next?”
“I tried to run, and then I tripped and fell and then they were kicking me and...” my voice started to crack.
“You don't need to go any further Finn.”
I sat there shaking with the remembered fear and pain of the encounter.
Officer Hunter looked at me with her lips pursed in sympathy. “One more thing, are there any gaps in your memory from when they jumped you till you tripped?”
“No, I don't think so. There's a big gap after they started kicking me.”
“That's what it sounded like to me too. Finn, I don't think you dreamed the bat and somehow wove it back into your memories. If you had, I would have expected there to be some sort of jump or hazy part to it, but it seems like a continuous memory to me, and you did wake up the next day beaten and bruised so we know it wasn't just a dream.”
“Oh, but...”
“I don't know how to explain it Finn, just that it seems likely it happened. Both parties here have a version of a bat being broken against them, we even have the bat handle in question, but neither side has injuries consistent with that story unless the bat was already cracked, termite ridden or just a fake.”
I brightened at that thought. Maybe the bat had been damaged by termites. That would mean I wasn't crazy!
She saw my change in expression and chose her words carefully. “Unfortunately, none of those theories bore fruit. The handle of the bat shows no evidence of termites and its condition is not consistent with a single crack. It looks more like it exploded. Now, don't panic, sometimes, there are aspects of a crime that seem inexplicable but turn out to have mundane causes. I think that is what we have here.”
The Dryad's Kiss Page 11