The image of the wolf’s bowels spilling at my feet brought my lunch to my throat. I turned to throw up, embarrassed in front of Jacques, and could feel the sweat pour down me as I emptied all the contents of my stomach on the ground. When Jean and Pierre returned they noticed my predicament, but were more concerned for Jacques. Pierre tore his sleeve off and wrapped it around Jacque’s leg. I went over, took off my shirt and applied pressure to the wound. He growled and cursed at me and my mother. His leg was still bleeding profusely and soaked my shirt through pretty quickly. I grabbed Pierre’s hand and told him to hold down the shirt. Then I ran my hand up his inner thigh, trying to find the main artery. My first thought had been a tourniquet, but I remembered that my Boy Scouts leader taught me that tourniquets could often do more damage than good.
“Mon Dieu,” he cried. “What are you doing?”
I pressed down with both hands on what I hoped was the femoral artery, or whatever it was called. I was hoping that this would slow down the bleeding to his calf.
“Just trust me, this will help,” I responded.
I hope.
After what felt like forever, the bleeding finally slowed down. We then wrapped my shirt more efficiently to keep the pressure on it.
Jean went to gather the sheep and take them to their pen, while we helped Jacques to the house. Slowly we made our way along a footpath. As we neared the house we could hear laughter from inside that quickly quieted when Isabelle spotted us. She came running out and grabbed onto Jacques and insisted that she help him inside. Then she looked into his face and said, “Thank God you are alive.”
Everyone else in the family, along with some of the other kids from the neighborhood, had spilled out into the yard by now and they were all asking questions at once.
Then it was almost like déjà vu. Ailey came running up to me and, completely ignoring Jacques, demanded to know if I was okay. I realized that I must have looked awful with all this wolf blood on me.
“I’m okay, I’m fine,” I told her. “This isn’t mine.” She looked relieved and then looked at Jacques. “What happened?”
“Wolf,” he said softly. Just like when Jacques had first spotted the beast in the meadow. I guess around here that was all that was needed.
“Where’s Isolda?” I asked.
“She’s in the garden. I’ll go get her. You sit down,” she commanded as we walked in the house.
I sat down on the floor of the house. Actually, all I wanted was a bath and some clean clothes. The pants that Jean had shared with me were disgusting. They smelled foul and were drenched with sweat and blood.
The women brought Jacque inside to lay down on the bed. At Isabelle’s orders, Jehanette brought water to clean off his leg. In the back of my mind I hoped it wasn’t bacteria ridden.
Pierre just sat in the kitchen, looking a bit stunned, but then he got up and came over to me. He put his hand on my shoulder, smiled warmly and then walked out the door. He probably had to take care of other things now that his dad was wounded. I thought about going out to help him.
Isolda came rushing into the room, her arms laden with produce from the garden. She threw the vegetables onto the table and then ran over to me. “Are you okay? You look terrible. What happened? Ailey said Jacques’ leg looks awful. Will he be able to walk again?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, about the leg. I think he’ll be okay but he bled a lot out there.”
“Oh,” she said and looked down at my pants. “Here, let me help Jehanette with the water, then I’ll bring you something clean to wear, okay?”
“Sure.” After a moment I said, “Maybe there is some alcohol that can help clean Jacques’ leg. I guess that would be good, I don’t know,” I added, my head swimming.
“Oh, good idea,” she replied.
I closed my eyes and tried to ward off images of the partially eaten lamb and hacked wolf. To avoid those images, I pictured the cliffs at Ailey’s house and how Isolda and I had laid on the ground that night, talking. My mind went over and over the parts of the conversation that I could remember. Even though it had only been a few months, that night seemed long ago. I remembered my mom making breakfast the morning that we disappeared; almost as if she’d never had leukemia. I could hear her laughter in my mind and could see my dad swinging on the porch swing, drink in hand, lost in thought. Tears sprung to my eyes and I tried to hold them back. I suddenly felt weak.
Why are we in this God forsaken place? I had this urge to throw myself off a cliff in an effort to wake myself up from this nightmare. To wake up to fresh sheets, in a bed, with a bathroom with running water. Where you went to the grocery store to get food and called animal control when the raccoons got into your trash cans. For the thousandth time I questioned how to get out of this incredibly long and impossible dream; I was going insane.
I stood up. I had to get out of here. Right. Now. I ran toward the door and Isolda and Ailey turned to watch me. Isolda reached toward me. “I’ll go get the clothes now. Just hold on a sec.”
“No,” I almost yelled. Everyone in the room turned toward me.
My head ached and I could still see myself hacking away at that wolf while fur and blood flurried about me like snow. I forced the bile back down my throat and told myself to calm down. It wasn’t the end of the world. Things like this happened often enough in this place. The image of the light dimming in the wolf’s eyes flashed before me, sickening me.
“I’m okay. I’ll just be… I’ll be back. I just need a minute.”
“No, wait, Tristen. I’ll go with you,” Ailey protested. Isolda seemed inclined to want to run toward me.
“No, it’s okay. They might need you.” I nodded toward Jacques. “I’ll be all right. Really, I just need a little bit of space.” I hurried to run off so they wouldn’t follow me. Although they hid it well, I could tell that they were still having a hard enough time accepting this new reality. It wouldn’t do for them to see me having a breakdown. I ran in any direction my feet would take me. I ran so hard that my lungs burned and still I continued on until my feet began to feel like lead. I stopped to catch my breath and found myself in the middle of town.
Dang it. Not the best place to have a meltdown.
I bent over, huffing and trying to stop the burning in my lungs. I was nowhere closer to figuring out why we were here than the first day we arrived. My mind turned and reeled.
Okay, this had to be a dream. Really, it was impossible to believe that we were actually in this century where they didn’t even have outhouses yet. The stench of their waste sickened me even more. I looked around, there had to be a place where I could end this. Maybe somewhere high, where I could jump. I had had dreams of falling before and had always woken up before I landed. I looked up, squinting from the sun, and found a house that was high enough and with a roof that seemed sturdy enough to hold me. Now, how to get up there?
I looked down the road a bit and could see a rudimentary ladder leaning against a wall. I ran down, trying to act normal. There was no one around the ladder so I picked it up, pretending it was mine. Confidence was how you got away with thievery, right? Not that I was stealing, just borrowing. By the time I was done with it, I would no longer be in this dream and the owner could have it back.
I went around to the side of the house, leaned the ladder against the wall, and climbed up. When I got to the top I tentatively put my foot out, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t put a hole in the roof. It was sturdy enough. I crouched down, not wanting to attract attention. From here I could see far off, past the edge of town. This dream was beautiful with its greenery and forests full of life. I would miss it, especially what Isolda and I had begun here. But this place wasn’t real, and I could start over with Isolda, I just knew it.
I crouched down and swung my legs down over the ledge. I leaned over to peek over the roof and my stomach dropped; it sure seemed real enough. I closed my eyes and imagined myself waking up in my bed. Maybe I would make my mom breakfast this morning.
I opened my eyes, took a deep breath, looked down at the street. And as I readied to jump, I looked right into the eyes of Mr. Becker.
CHAPTER TEN
I never really noticed that Mr. Becker had hazel eyes. Now they were staring hard at me. At first I thought that he had appeared in my dream, just like the others, but his look of concern was a lot for even my imagination to dream up.
“What are you doing up there?” he cried out loud enough for me to hear but not too loud as to attract attention.
I looked around me. Yes, the street was still the same, the smells were all the same, and I was still sitting on the edge of a roof, almost ready to jump off. I looked back down at him. “Me? What are you doing here? How did you get here? What is going on?”
“Here. Get down. I’ll answer your questions, but get down first.”
Immediately, I felt relief. This still might be a dream, but this twist might bring answers without me having to jump off a roof. I scrambled off the roof and onto the ground. Unlike me, Mr. Becker seemed to fit into this little village. His lab coat was gone and, although he still hadn’t quite tamed his hair, he wore period clothing. He also didn’t seem to be going into shock. On the contrary, he was as comfortable here as he did in his classroom. The only thing that was out of place was the digital watch he still wore on his wrist.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Tristen?” he demanded.
“Sir?”
He eyed me up and down. I still didn’t have a shirt on and my pants and shoes were bloody. I’d completely forgotten about the events in the field.
“Oh, yeah. I had a little trouble with a wolf,” I mumbled, then focused on the fact that it was odd that he was here. “Wait. What are you doing here?”
“Yes, well I’m here looking for you.”
“You are? How did you know? I mean, how did you know we were here? And how did you find us?”
“We?” he responded. “Who is here with you?”
“Isolda. And Ailey,” I replied.
“Isolda is here with you?”
“Yes. And Ailey. I’m sorry, sir, but can you please explain to me what’s going on? I’m very confused and worried about everyone back home. Is this a dream?”
“No, I’m afraid not. This isn’t a dream.”
I took a moment to let that settle in. Thank heavens I didn’t jump off that roof. As if he could read my mind he asked, “Why were you on that roof?”
“I thought this must be a dream. I wanted to wake up.”
“I see.” He stared off into the distance. “And how long have you been here?”
“A couple of months.”
“A couple of months? Oh my, I really am late.”
“You are?”
“Oh yes, I’m very late. But let’s not worry about that now. The timing can be very tricky. I’m just glad I wasn’t here too late.”
“Timing?” I asked. “Okay, please explain. Why and how am I… are we, here?”
Mr. Becker held up his hand and thought pensively.
“First, let me ask you to give me a rundown of how you got here and what’s happened since you’ve been here, and then I will answer all of your questions.”
“Okay.” I started my explanation with the girl in the garden and how we were all in the fields behind my house. I described how Jacques and Isabelle had let us into their homes, the meeting by the tree, and how we’d worked hard to assimilate. I told him about the reaction of the priest to us, which seemed to concern him, but he didn’t comment on it.
I omitted the parts about how scared we were and about Isolda and my budding relationship. I doubted that he’d approve, because he was so concerned about it before. When I was done, he looked around thoughtfully.
“Tristen, when you walked out into your backyard, did you have anything with you? A book, or maybe your backpack?”
“Yes, I had my backpack. In fact, I’d left it outside and went out there to go get it.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” After seeing the expression on my face, he hurried to add, “Although not to you.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, Tristen, I’m going to try to explain this to you, but it might seem a lot to understand right now. It may take a bit to sink in, okay?”
It was my turn to breathe in deeply. “Okay, shoot.”
“First, let’s look at where you are right now. You are in the middle of a village in the fifteenth century where everyone is speaking French, if I’m correct?” He looked questioningly at me. I nodded in agreement.
“This is very strange and odd to you. You’ve somehow been transported from your backyard to another time and place, and the only things that you have are your backpack and the clothes on your back. But, you bring two women with you, who happen to be with you when this happens, right? Can we both admit that there is something very strange, very odd going on? You think it is a dream, but you can’t wake yourself up from it – although I’m assuming this was your first attempt to jump off a cliff or a roof, right?”
I keep nodding, this was nothing new.
“Okay, the reason why I’m summarizing this to you is so that you can admit to yourself that this is different. Something that you’ve never experienced before, so there must be something going on that you’ve never known about before and never experienced before. Okay?”
I thought for a moment, not sure what he was leading to.
“Yes, okay, I’ll agree that there is something very strange going on. And yes, I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay. Tristen, listen to me very carefully because this is very important. There is a whole world that exists within our world that is unknown to most people. And inside this world there are people who can do extraordinary things that ordinary people have only imagined doing. For instance, how many people have imagined that they could open a book and travel to its pages? To be there, smell it, feel it, and to actually live in it?”
I stopped to think about it. Although it sounded like fun, I didn’t like where this was going.
“You can do this, Tristen,” he continued. “And not in your imagination but actually really go there. You can interact with time and space. You can talk to the people, grow plants, feel sand beneath your feet and even affect people. The things that you do will change them and they will change you. Did you ever imagine such a thing could be possible?”
I stood there, dumb, trying to process what he was saying. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine it. It wasn’t that hard. It looked like something that I had been living day by day very recently.
I realized something and opened my eyes. “Wait, you said a book. You can open and book and travel to it. What do you mean?”
“Exactly. A book. You open it and go to where it takes you. You want to be in the rainforest in Brazil, go to the library, check out a book on the rain forests of Brazil and step inside that world. Want to know about the monarch of England, find a book about them and step inside. Of course, what the book says and what actually exists inside the actual reality of that time period may be two different things because when you are inside a book you actually are there, experiencing it.”
My head was spinning but I kept myself steady.
He took a deep breath. “Tristen, you are a Seeker. A Warrior.”
I laughed, until I realized that he was dead serious.
“You have the gift of being able to find things,” he continued. “You can find the truth if that’s what you need. You are destined to find the Tingui and keep them from destroying our world. You are drawn to them, whether or not you want it. That’s what you are. That is why you showed up here without any effort on your part. There is a reason you need to be here. It’s as if something pulled you into that book of its own accord and that is what your gift can do.”
“Me? A Warrior… Seeker? No, not me. You have me confused with someone else.”
“No I don’t. You, Tristen, are a Seeker, you always have been. You have no idea what kind of power
you hold.”
“You’re right. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sorry, I’m going too fast. Okay, as I said, there is a whole world that exists within our world that very few people know about. And the two of us, yes, you and me, we are part of that world, but we don’t know it right away. Our parents may be part of that world, and they pass it down to us. Although sometimes it doesn’t always pass down to us though genetics, it just depends. That’s rare though.”
He stopped, took a deep breath and began again. I was glad that we were in a secluded part of town. The few people that were around ignored us. “Okay, let’s call it Magic, because that might be more understandable. There are people who can perform magic. They have gifts that allow them to perform these things. And there are different things that they can do with these gifts. When I say magic I don’t mean pull a rabbit out of your hat. I mean some truly amazing things that science cannot explain right now.”
“You, Tristen, are one of these people. You have a gift that allows you to travel through books. You can do it on your own if you want. And sometimes it takes you to where you need to go in order to help someone.
“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure you would get the gift, so I’ve been watching to see if you would become a Seeker.”
“I have this gift? And you’ve been watching me? And I can travel through books?” Disappointment was swelling in my chest, this was really a dream after all.
Mr. Becker sighed patiently and put his hand on my shoulder. It felt real. “Yes. I’ve been chosen to help you and so it was necessary that I watch you to be available in case you needed me. And that leads us back to the fact that I’m late. I really am sorry for that.”
He stopped and waited for me to catch up. I thought back to that day in the field. I did have my book with me — my history book in my backpack. And then I’d dropped it and Jehanette disappeared. When I bent over to retrieve it, we were back again. Amazing. I reflected even further, considering the cotton material I found in my fist that night. Now that I thought about it, every single time I’d had the dreams, I’d always had my book with me. I often fell asleep doing my homework, and so there my book was, lying on the bed like an innocent stuffed animal, when really it was a powerful object just waiting to steal into my dreams to transport me to other places. Understanding dawned on me.
The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN) Page 16