by Kirk Watson
Dr. Mosely closed the bedroom door and waited in the hall.
“Oh, John,” Sharon cried, “I’ve lost the baby.”
John tried to choke back his own tears. “I know, Sharon. It’s okay. I’m here.”
She smiled sadly. “It was a girl. Just like you wanted.”
John nodded, smiling back and fighting to restrain his own tears. He clasped her paw. His throat swelled and his voice quivered. “You need to rest, Sharon. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll be right here.”
Sharon placed a paw on his cheek. “Did the doctor tell you? About me, I mean…”
John’s eyes dropped and he nodded, no longer able to hold back his sobs. His breathing grew short and his chest heaved. He clung to her paw tightly.
When he looked back up, tears were running down his cheeks. “Please don’t leave me, Sharon.”
Sharon’s heart broke to see her husband in so much pain. Summoning all her courage, she choked back her own tears and lifted his chin up, looking him in the eye. “Breathe, John.”
John took a few sputtering breaths, but his body was still wracked by sobs.
Sharon pulled his head to her breast and stroked his fur. “Shh… Easy, John. It’s okay. Just breathe.”
After a few minutes, John’s weeping subsided. Sharon continued to caress his head, running her fingers through his fur.
“That’s better,” she said. “Just breathe. Everything’s going to be all right.”
John looked up at her with tears in his eyes. “I don’t think I can make it without you, Sharon.”
“You can, and you will. You have so much yet to give to this world, John.”
“No, Sharon. Without you, there’s nothing. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. Let me tell you a story.” She brushed a tear from his cheek. “A long time ago, there lived a little girl in a big tree. She had everything money could buy: the best schools, fancy clothes, expensive jewelry. But despite having it all, that little girl was very unhappy. Do you know why?”
John shook his head.
“Because she didn’t have love,” Sharon said. “Then one day, that little girl was walking through her garden, wearing a white sundress and her stepmother’s gardening gloves, when out of nowhere, a newspaper came flying over the hedges and hit her in the head. When she looked up, she saw the cutest little boy peeking over.”
John smiled apologetically, and Sharon chuckled.
“The little girl was furious,” she continued, “demanding to be compensated for her pain and suffering. The little boy was so scared. He could have run away, but he didn’t. Instead, he offered her the only thing in this world he owned—his bicycle. And do you know why?”
John smiled weakly. “Because he loved her?”
“That’s right. And right then, that little girl knew that boy had so much love to give. And you know what? When that little girl grew up, she married that boy, and they started a family together.”
“I’m so sorry, Sharon. Your father was right; I should have stayed away from you. None of this would have happened if I had just left you alone. This is all my fault.”
“Nonsense. Before I met you, I was miserable. I may have been smiling on the outside, but I was empty on the inside. But then you focused all your love on me, and my heart overflowed. I felt like the luckiest squirrel in the world. I have no regrets, not a single one; every day we had together was a blessing. You saved me, John, you really did. But now I need you to focus all that love elsewhere; you can’t just let it die. You always said you wanted to change the world, to make a real difference, and I know you can, but only if you first let the outside world in.”
John shook his head. “I don’t want to change the world, Sharon—I only want you; I need you.”
“And I need you, John. But we’ll be together again someday. I promise.”
“When?”
Sharon smiled. “No one knows, but soon enough. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
John choked back a sob. “I don’t think I can wait that long. How about I come back tomorrow?”
Sharon laughed softly, coughing as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “No, honey, tomorrow’s no good for me. You take as long as you need.” She placed her paw over his heart. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
John buried his face in her neck. “Oh, Sharon, tell me what to do.”
Sharon closed her eyes and laid her head against his. John held her tightly, refusing to let her go. He prayed, pleading for just a little more time, but despite his prayers, he could hear her heartbeat slowing.
She took one last breath and whispered in his ear, “Live, John Grey. For me.”
And then Sharon was gone.
Chapter 20
THE THORN BIRD
If grace be a woman, all the harder the fall from her side.
John blinked at the bright sun filtering through the pine branches overhead. The dull ache in his shoulder was accompanied by a growling in his stomach. With a groan, he pulled the tarp off his sweating body, sat up against the tree, and rubbed his eyes.
I had the strangest dream…
“Good morning,” Rollie said. “Or should I say afternoon?”
“Afternoon?” John asked. “How long was I out?”
“A day and a half.” Rollie handed him a berry.
“Thanks. I don’t suppose you have any coffee.”
Rollie laughed. “You know, I went looking for a coffee shop but couldn’t find any.”
“Maybe this would be a good place to open a franchise.”
“Sure it would, if you don’t want to be bothered by those pesky customers. I haven’t seen so much as a bluebird since we came here.”
John chomped on the berry as he surveyed the forest around them. Rollie was right; the entire valley seemed to be uninhabited. The silence was eerie, as if the forest were some unnatural construct of the haakönen.
“It’s a shame, really,” John said. “This is such beautiful country.”
“Yep,” Rollie said, looking at the sky, “if you don’t mind the neighbors, that is. How are you feeling? You gave us quite a scare.”
John worked his shoulder in a circle, wincing at the pain. “A little woozy, but better. You should have wakened me earlier.”
“No, he shouldn’t have,” Lisa said, walking up from the forest. She held a paw to his forehead. “You needed to regain your strength. If you were to fall again, you could turn an ankle, or worse. Then we’d really be up against it.”
“Yes, mother.”
Lisa placed her paws on her hips and frowned at him.
John sighed. “You’re right, Lisa. We can’t afford any more injuries out here. Any idea where here is?”
“I think we’re getting close to the X,” Lisa said, unfolding the map. “We still might make it today. That is, if you feel up to it.”
“Let me have a look.”
She handed him the map and he spread it out on the ground in front of them.
The river runs right down the middle. We already got past that, and then some.
“We must be around here,” John said, pointing to a spot between the river and the X.
“What do you think these squiggly lines are?” Lisa asked. “More mountains?”
John looked at the bizarre cross-hatching surrounding the X. “No, I don’t think so. The mountains are to the west, and whoever made this map didn’t bother making any of those squiggles there. Only one way to find out, I suppose. We’re getting a late start, but we still might make it before nightfall.”
“What are we waiting for?” Rollie asked. “Up and at ‘em, soldier!”
John groaned as Rollie helped him to his feet. He tucked the map into his jumpsuit and brought out the compass.
“Right,” he said, holding the compass in front of him. “This way.”
The squirrels broke camp and continued to the southeast. The beaming sun provided some comfort against the cold; under bett
er circumstances, John thought, it would have been a rather nice winter day.
They traveled until dusk and reached the edge of the forest, where before them stood a meadow filled with a massive tangle of brambles that stretched as far as they could see. The brambles intertwined tightly, each as thick as John’s waist and covered in thorns. Passage through the briars would be impossible.
“I think we’ve found our squiggly lines,” John said, looking down at the map. The X was right in the middle of the brambles.
“Oh no,” Lisa said. “How are we going to get in?”
“There must be a way. Maybe a break in the brambles somewhere. Come on, we better hurry before the sun sets.”
They approached the towering wall of thorns before them, leaving the cover of the forest behind. John glanced up at the open sky, feeling rather exposed.
“We’ll follow the brambles’ perimeter,” he said. “Keep an eye out for the entrance, and another for the haakönen.”
The squirrels began running along the edge of the brambles, but the entrance remained hidden to them. The relative safety of the forest fell further behind, and nightfall was quickly approaching.
John was contemplating turning back when a screech pierced the air. The squirrels stopped in their tracks. For a moment, the sun seemed to dim as the long shadow of a haakönen passed directly over them. They looked up; it was coming straight for them.
Lisa pointed at the haakönen. “I knew it was a trap!”
“Run!” John shouted, and the squirrels took off. John spotted a small pocket in the thorns that didn’t look quite as dense as the rest.
“In here,” he said, and the three squirrels dived into the hollow. They scrambled to get as deep as they could into the briar patch, climbing and ducking their way through the dense thorns. They soon reached an impasse.
The blue haakönen, Alvíss, swooped down after them, but the opening was too tight for him to squeeze through. He became entangled in the thorns just a few feet away from the squirrels.
“Ooh! Ow! Ah!” Alvíss said as he cut through the thorns with his beak. “Hello again, dear friends. Sit tight. I’ll be with you shortly. Ooh! Ow!”
The squirrels pushed to the rear of the hollow and put their backs against the wall of thorns.
“We’re trapped!” Rollie said.
The haakönen’s head broke through the vines, just inches away from the squirrels. His face was scratched from the barbed brambles. “Damn thorns,” he said. “Ah, there you are. Now, was that really necessary? Look what you’ve made me do to my beautiful feathers. I look like I’m molting! I’ll never hear the end of it from Geirleif. But there’s no reason for any more bloodshed. Why don’t you come out peacefully, and I’ll take you home, safe and sound?”
“I know the rules,” John said. “You can only take one of us.”
“Yes, yes,” Alvíss said with a scowl. “It’s a shame, but those are the rules. So, who’s it going to be?”
Lisa looked at the other squirrels. “I’ll go.”
“No way, Lisa,” Rollie said. “You can’t!”
“It’s okay, Rollie. Remember your promise. Remember Violet.”
“You should listen to the little girl,” Alvíss said. “I have you squirrels cornered; there’s nowhere to run. Surrender her to me before anyone else gets hurt.”
“Like hell I will!” Rollie said. He picked up a broken branch and swung it at the haakönen’s head. “Eat bramble, you blue bastard!”
“Ow! Hey, quit it!” Alvíss said, flinching as Rollie struck him repeatedly to little effect. The haakönen grabbed the branch with his beak and shoved Rollie to the ground. “Fine,” he said, spitting out the branch, “if that’s how you want to play, we’ll do this the hard way. Say goodbye to your fat friend, squirrels. Let’s see how you like the thorns, tubby!” He bit down on Rollie’s leg and began to pull him out of the hollow.
“Help!” Rollie cried. “He’s got my leg!”
“John, do something!” Lisa implored.
John grabbed the discarded branch and prepared to swing it at Alvíss’s head. “Let go of my fat friend, you feathered freak!” He closed his eyes and brought the branch down as hard as he could.
A loud explosion rang through the valley, followed by a billow of blue feathers that slowly misted over the squirrels. Alvíss’s beak let loose of Rollie’s leg, and his head slumped to the ground. The back of Alvíss’s skull lay wide-open; blood ran from the gaping hole, dribbling past his lifeless eyes and puddling in the dirt.
“Nice swing, Johnny-boy!” Rollie said as he scrambled back to his feet. “Though that ‘fat friend’ remark was really uncalled for…”
John spit out a blue feather and stared at the branch in his paw. “I don’t think I even hit him…”
“You didn’t, squirrel.”
Behind Alvíss stood a rabbit with a smoking shotgun in his paws. The grizzled old cottontail wore an eyepatch over one eye, and one of his ears flopped back limply, no longer able to hold itself upright. His grey, threadbare jumpsuit bore a faded number zero on the back.
The rabbit broke the shotgun open and caught the ejected shell before it hit the ground. He placed the empty shell in his pocket and loaded a fresh one, then snapped the gun shut with a flick of his wrist. “Damn haakönen,” he said, spitting on the ground.
The squirrels exchanged glances, then slowly raised their paws in the air.
“Put your paws down, you idiots,” the rabbit said. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
“Who are you?” John asked.
“The name’s Cecil. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to arrive. Though truth be told, I was hoping there’d be more of you.”
“Likewise,” John said. “We lost two on the way. What are you doing here?”
“Why, I live here. Or at least I have for the last several years. But I’ll explain later. Those haakönen are sure to have heard that gunshot; they’ll be here soon. Best follow me if you want to keep on living.”
The squirrels exchanged fretful glances.
“You have a better plan?” Lisa asked. “Then come on, let’s go.”
They followed Cecil out of the hollow and back into the clearing. They had only traveled a short distance along the edge when Cecil bent down to pick up a loose branch, revealing a hidden passage into the heart of the briar patch.
No wonder we couldn’t find it, John thought.
“Ladies first,” Cecil said, holding the makeshift door open for Lisa. She curtsied and stepped into the tunnel. John and Rollie climbed in after her, and Cecil replaced the bramble behind them.
“What is this place?” John asked.
“A safe haven,” Cecil said. “But come quickly, there’s no time to talk.”
He led them down a long, twisting passage through the brambles. Occasionally he would prompt them to watch their step or duck their heads as they squeezed their way through the narrow passageway. After a difficult hour of walking, they stopped at a hole in the ground.
“Here we are,” Cecil said. “Hole, sweet hole.” He hopped into the burrow and disappeared into the darkness below. After a moment, he called up, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
The squirrels looked at each other.
“No way,” Rollie said. “I’m not jumping into some stranger’s hole.”
Lisa laughed. “Oh, come on, just imagine it’s toothless Lenore.” She turned and jumped down into the rabbit hole.
“What’s she talking about?” John asked Rollie. “Toothless Lenore?”
“Must be some new slang the kids are using,” Rollie said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’m not going down there.”
“This is the spot on the map, Rollie. We came all this way to find it.”
“Well, you’ll just have to go on without me.”
“Suit yourself,” John said, giving him a smile before jumping down into the hole.
Rollie shook his head and crossed his arms. “No, sir. Not for me.” The dis
tant screech of a haakönen soon changed his mind, however, and he promptly jumped into the hole.
Cecil lit a lamp, lighting the gently sloping tunnel. He led the group down the passageway until they came upon a small chamber. The rabbit hung the lamp from a root breaching the dirt ceiling and beckoned the others inside. The humble burrow was not much more than a hole in the ground; there was no furniture to speak of, though an open crate and a cedar chest rested conspicuously against the back wall.
“Say, nice place you have here, Cecil,” Rollie said. “Maid’s day off?”
Lisa elbowed him in the ribs.
“Please, have a seat,” Cecil said. “You must be starving.”
The squirrels sat on the ground as Cecil pulled three cans from the crate. He offered a can of peaches to Lisa, a can of apricots to Rollie, and a can of pears to John.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any silverware,” Cecil said, handing a can opener to John.
“That’s okay, I brought my own,” Rollie said, pulling his lucky spoon from his pocket. He turned to Lisa and whispered, “Told you it would come in handy.”
Lisa rolled her eyes.
John opened the can of pears and passed the can opener to Lisa. He reached in and pulled out a pear slice, still dripping in juice. He popped the slice in his mouth and savored its sweet, grainy texture; it almost melted in his mouth.
No pear has ever tasted so sweet…
He pulled out another slice and quickly devoured it. When there were no more slices left, he drank the juice straight from the can.
“Thank you, Cecil,” he said. “We haven’t had much to eat these last few days.”
Cecil pulled out a pipe from his jumpsuit and lit it. “You’re lucky you came when you did. A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have had much more to offer you than a few grub worms. But I’m afraid I already ate all the carrots.” He pointed to an empty pile of cans in the corner and chuckled.
“You’ve been down here for years?” Lisa asked, wiping the peach juice from her chin.
“That’s right,” Cecil said. “Since the haakönen’s thirty-second Spring Chase, I suppose. There have been many hunts since, but you’re the first to ever make it this far.”