Life Will Have Its Way

by Angie Myers Lewtschuk

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are free to go,” he repeated. He looked to the ground, still refusing to look directly at me. I picked up my things and left the room without looking back. My chest swelled with feelings of both relief and annoyance. I spun through the lobby doors and emerged on the other side. The wind blew sheets of rain across the entryway, giant drops hit at angles and splattered on the sidewalk. The streets were nearly deserted with the exception of a few people dashing from overhang to overhang, pausing under each awning, waiting for the right moment to dash across to the next, crouched and scurrying as if trying to avoid sniper fire. One poor woman, dressed unusually formal for a weeknight evening struggled to stay steady, the wind pulling at her umbrella like the sail of a boat, she fought against it, teetering on red leather heels, too tall, and never meant to be worn in the rain.

  A cab pulled against the curb, the driver leaned into the passenger seat, rolling the window only low enough to yell out, “Get in. No fare, no fare,” he shouted.

  I shook my head then waved to thank him. The rain felt good, completely drenching me as it washed away the ugly stench of the police station.

  Chapter 15

  By the time I got back to my building I was soaked. I slogged down the hallway, passing Anja’s door, feeling too nervous to knock, afraid no one would answer. The keys slipped from between my fingers and hit the ground with a jingle. The door behind me opened and 1D stepped into the hallway, arms folded, head tilted to one side. She was wearing a ratty pink housecoat over a short, satin nightgown, a cigarette dangled from her lips. Her over-bleached hair was piled in a messy bun and her eyes were smeared with day old mascara.

  “Hey,” she said in a dry, rough voice, “what was all that over here earlier?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I replied wearily.

  She took a slow drag on her cigarette. I watched as the long, thin clump of ashes tried to decide whether to continue to hang or drop to the floor. “Who were your friends?”

  “They weren’t my friends.”

  “Ohhh! Well then,” she said hopefully, smoothing her bangs with one hand, before giving up and pushing them behind her ear, “who were they?”

  “You know who they were!” I snapped.

  To my surprise, she actually seemed a bit confused. I wondered if there was a chance she hadn’t realized who they were and immediately regretted having been so short with her. I turned my back while I undid the lock, the nature of our relationship prevented me from apologizing or continuing the conversation and I slipped behind the door without saying another word.

  My apartment was freezing, the heat hadn’t been on all day and the cold of the floor permeated my shoes and crept up my legs. The long walk in wet clothes had chilled me to the bone, I cranked the thermostat and started a hot bath. I had originally planned to change and go straight to Anja’s, I was dying to know what happened, I was dying to know if they were even still there, but I knew better than to race next door with 1D so suddenly eager to talk.

  An hour passed. Then another. I tapped gently on the wall that separated the apartments. The sounds reverberated through the room, through my head, and I feared throughout the entire building. I cringed and stopped my hand before it had the chance to connect with the thin wood paneled surface again.

  My tapping didn’t get a response. I tried to create an explanation in my mind for what must have happened. Okay, okay, it’s not that bad, maybe they’re just in the other room, they probably can’t hear me. My heart started to race. Or maybe it is that bad, I thought, maybe the police did take them. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go see what had happened. I had to know. I could walk out to the mailboxes, there was nothing suspicious about that, if someone was there, I would just check my mailbox and come back to my apartment. It was something I had done a few hundred times without ever having given it a second thought. I took several deep breaths as I tried to work up the nerve to go out.

  I swung the door open with as much confidence as I could muster and walked out into the hallway, there was no one there. The mailboxes were just inside the front doors, I would be able to get a pretty good look at both the landing and the sidewalk under the guise of checking my mail. The street was empty with the exception of one solitary figure. He strode quickly in the direction of the building. His head was down to shield his face from the rain, his hands pressed deep into his pockets. He turned to look up at the entryway as he neared, as if he were expecting there to be something to look at. Our eyes met. My head swelled with a quick flash of terror. He kept walking.

  I tapped lightly on her door then leaned closer pressing my ear against it to see if I could hear anything. I was sure someone was watching me, I was all but certain they were watching me. The couple across the hall was probably huddled together behind their door, a sinister laugh shared between them. I leaned back to the door and whispered that it was just me. I thought I heard scurrying. Deep in a pool of paranoia I couldn’t tell if it was coming from the door behind me or the door I was leaning on. I waited anxiously to feel the clawed, lanky fingers of the old woman in 1B reaching out to grab me.

  Anja finally answered, “I’ll be right there.”

  With the exception of being slightly flushed and breathless, she answered the door in her usual way, I looked around her apartment, I was relieved to see that nothing had been disturbed or put out of place, but the girl wasn’t there. Anja took me by the wrist and led me to the guest bedroom. She switched on a small lamp in the corner, it did barely what was required and filled the space with tall, ominous shadows. Anja pulled me farther into the room where a large wooden armoire stood. Here was where Anja stored off-season clothes and a random assortment of other things that only had in common the fact that they weren’t stored anywhere else. She opened both doors and ran her hand up the inner edge until she heard a popping noise. The giant piece of furniture suddenly became weightless as she swung it out, away from the wall and into the room.

  Chapter 16

  The adventurous spirit of a child that grows up outside the confines of a city is as vast and expansive as the star filled sky that covers their nights like a heavenly blanket. They knew it was wrong to cross the meadow but they were ill equipped to fight the urge that pulled at them, that pulled them through the waist high grass and blossoming clover, under the low branches of the Maidenhair and over the banks to the irresistible sound of rushing water.

  They loved the way it felt when the icy cold crept up their legs, as their pants became saturated and their boots full and sloshy. Even more, they loved the way it felt to be doing something they’d been told emphatically not to. Their parents had warned them it wasn’t safe, that things were different once you got past the meadow, that there were many dangers, beyond and including the river, but most especially the river. The children were told they should never get near it, that they just wouldn’t be strong enough to resist its pull, and that much was certainly true.

  It hadn’t happened overnight, a few seasons earlier, they’d grown bored with the forest. They’d crept to its edge and tried to decide what dangers might be lurking under the field of green that covered the ground in front of them. They studied the meadow during many visits, one day observing a stray cow as she crossed, slowly, carelessly, stopping to graze on the grass that begged at her as she wandered. They watched her, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. Realizing there wasn’t anything to fear they eagerly stepped across the border that separated them from where they had always been to where they had been told never to go.

  They spent an entire summer in the tall grass, mashing it down, making forts and tunnels, resting on the soft piles of bent stalks and warmed by the golden yellow of the sun. The following summer they returned, eager to reacquaint themselves with their old friend. But time had changed them, time had changed the meadow. It was no longer the place they remembered, the place they had dreamed about all winter when cold, icy snow had covered the ground.

  But the river was
still there, and she called out to them, beckoning in the distance, water churning over rocks, flowing, falling, pushing loose limbs along her path. They could see the river from where they sat and swore to one another that they would never get nearer. But that was before the cool bits of moisture followed the breeze and begged them to come closer, wearing down the very little resistance they had left.

  In the beginning, they dared only play in the puddles that pooled at the edges. But with time they got to know the river, they became familiar with her rhythm, they grew to respect her, and they knew she would never hurt them. Every chance they got the boys would return to her banks. They played for long hours, throwing rocks, splashing, floating leaves and small boats they’d carved from sticks and pinecones. They built damns and created waterfalls and challenged each other to see who could hold his head under longer.

  But much to their disappointment, when the leaves of autumn covered the trees, the water levels dropped and the excitement it created when it rushed past branches and crashed on boulders was gone. In its place was a river that flowed casually between obstacles, a boring, lazy river. The excitement had left the river in the same way it had left the meadow before it.

  So one day soon after, the day Evie turned up missing, without discussing their plans, the boys crossed the river and kept going. This new, uncharted forest looked the same as their forest and they wondered why their parents had told them it was so dangerous. They stayed close to the bank, walking in silence, not daring to wonder aloud what might happen if they should be caught where they knew they didn’t belong. Rusty-gold colored leaves fluttered on their branches, squirrels scampered between the trees and birds filled the air around them with a drowning collection of noises, each competing for a free bit of space to fill with their song.

  “Listen,” whispered Lukas, “I think I hear Petra.”

  “Nah, can’t be, she’s always with Evie.”

  They stopped to rest in the shade of a mangled oak. The bottom half of the tree looked as though it were dead, the trunk was cracked and withered, bugs burrowed at the base and into the bark that fell to the ground in rotted, grey chunks. But somewhere between the roots and the branches the tree had decided it would not accept fate and continued to produce leaves that were curiously thick and shiny. A rustling sound in the bushes near where they sat sent Lukas pushing himself closer to Erich, he grabbed hold of his arm and held it tightly. “What was that?” he asked nervously.

  “What was what?”

  “That noise.”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Lukas leaned into the direction of the sound trying to get a better listen, insisting he’d heard something. A sharp crackling noise came from somewhere below the leaves. Lukas backed all the way behind Erich, still clutching his arm.

  “That. What about that? Did you hear that?”

  “Stop it!” Erich yelled.

  A low, angry, grumble grew out from behind a thicket of branches followed by snorting and a jerking struggle. A dirty brown snout poked its head through the underbrush.

  “Run!” Erich shouted, trying to break free from Lukas and at the same time pull him along. They ran as fast as they could not daring to look back. Dry, rotting leaves crumpled under their feet as they pushed deeper into the forest. Lukas stumbled, catching his pants on the sharp, jutting edge of an old sheepherder’s fence. The boar lunged angrily toward him as Erich yanked helplessly on the pants. Lukas screamed and braced himself, covering his face with his arms as the wild boar smashed itself into the fence that separated them. It stood back for a second, then charged ahead again, hitting squarely into a post hidden beneath a mess of tangled nettle. The boar squealed loudly then retreated, teetering as it trotted away, disoriented and defeated.

  Erick bent at the waist, grasped his knees in his hands and took deep dramatic breaths before collapsing on the ground in a fit of laughter. “Now that… was a close one!”

  The boys soon realized they were farther from home than they had ever been, but instead of turning back, Erich argued that the day was still long and insisted they keep going. After nearly two hours had passed, they came upon the bed of a small stream, it was mostly dry except for pockets of mud where the water had pooled after the last storm, and they agreed to follow it, certain it would lead them back to the river. Lukas looked to the sky, he pointed overhead and using the position of the sun as his guide, tried to calculate the time with his finger. “We should probably start back soon,” he said, hoping Erich would listen.

  But Erich was convinced it would be more fun to see where the stream started, since they already knew where it ended. Lukas lagged behind, he fought with his conscience the same way he always did when Erich suggested doing something he didn’t think they should do. They walked in silence until their path ended abruptly at the mouth of what appeared to be a small cave cut away in a low lying, grass covered bluff. Erich kept walking, stopping only when he realized Lukas was no longer following.

  “Hurry up! What are you doing?”

  Lukas shook his head, “No way am I goin’ in there!”

  “Why not?”

  “There might be a bear or something.”

  “There ain’t no bears in these woods! And besides,” Erich said pulling his shotgun from its strap and hefting it into the air, “I can handle a stupid bear.” He held the gun to the opening, and pretended to shoot it, pushed back by the imaginary recoil he stumbled and fell to the ground. He hadn’t been intending to fall but it made Lukas laugh which in turn made him laugh. He got up and wiped the leaves from his pants. “There are no bears. Really. I promise.”

  Erich turned and kept walking toward the entrance to the cave, Lukas, afraid of being left alone in the forest, went after him.

  Chapter 17

  Three figures emerged from the dark space behind the armoire. Their unexpected presence startled me. I gasped and jumped back. Responding to my quick movement, the tallest one jerked what looked like a shotgun from behind his back and held it uncomfortably close to my face.

  “Erich!” Anja squealed, pushing the barrel toward the ground.

  “I’m sorry ma’am,” he said shyly, “it’s not loaded or anything, she just startled me.”

  Startled was a good word. I could agree with him there, yeah, I was definitely startled. My chest felt tight, and my throat full. I thought Anja could have done a better job preparing me for what I was about to encounter. She motioned for the boys to come out into the room. They, like their sister, looked as though they’d just stepped out of a photograph from the forties or fifties. Both wore plain flannel shirts in muted colors, thick canvas bottoms and ill-fitting jackets, one a little too big, the other quite a bit too small. The taller of the two was topped with a small cap that barely covered his head, the other had closely cropped hair, pushed up in the front and slicked on the sides.

  Still feeling anxious, I jumped when a pair of tiny arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I looked down to see the girl, her head tilted back, she was staring up at me, her eyes, wide and sparkly.

  “Have you seen my bunny?” she asked.

  Still shaken, I had to think for a moment about what she was asking, “I have, I have,” I said as I pulled it from my pocket and presented it to her.

  She held her hands to her mouth and inhaled, emitting a tiny, excited squeak. “Bunny!” she whispered as she reached out slowly to take it from my hand. The balls of her cheeks rose up and her eyes squinted as her lips formed the same fairy like smile she’d had the first time I met her. She squeezed the stuffed toy between her hands and brought her arms tight against her chest, her eyes closed while she lost herself in the joy of the reunion with her cherished bunny.

  I, on the other hand, felt speechless, I had just walked into what I had formerly only known as a guest room expecting to see the girl sound asleep on the bed. Instead I was confronted with an actual, real life hiding place and a pair of gun-slinging teenage boys I’d never seen. I held my hands up, a finger di
rected to each boy, I wanted to ask Anja or the girl who they were, where they came from, but the words wouldn’t form. The girl looked toward me, knowing that I wanted to say something, waiting for me to say it, I could tell that she was analyzing my face, reading my thoughts.

  “My brothers came to get me,” she announced proudly. “This is Lukas,” she motioned toward the smaller of the two. He looked to be about nine or ten years old. His eyes were dark and serious, far too serious for a boy his age.

  “And this is Erich,” she said as she pointed to the other.

  Erich was tall, I would have guessed him to be at least sixteen or so based only on his height, but his face was still quite boyish, making me certain he couldn’t have been much more than about thirteen.

  “I ran across these fine gentlemen in the garden,” Anja said finally. ”They were looking for their sister Evie. Evie!” she repeated. “Her name is Evie!” We both smiled, sharing the satisfaction of finally knowing the girl’s name.

  “As it would turn out,” Anja looked at me knowingly, “our little Evie here went missing yesterday.”

  “Missing from where?” I asked.

  “Well, here’s the thing,” she said, the look on her face made it seem as though she were preparing to tell me something I might find impossible to believe. “They all live in a small, a small,” she looked to the kids for reassurance, “settle… ment?” Erich shrugged and nodded, it seemed he didn’t know what to call it either but thought her choice of words was good enough.

  “They live in a small settlement in the forest,” Anja finished.

  A settlement in the forest. Really? Anja wasn’t acting like she thought it was a strange concept, she wasn’t acting like the idea was strange at all. As a matter of fact, she was interacting with these children like she had known them all their lives. I wouldn’t have been shocked to learn they were her grandchildren visiting for the weekend. But I had an entirely different opinion, for me, the last two days were starting to feel like a dream, and not just a regular dream but the highly surreal kind, vivid with color and brought to life with fantastically blue, deep churning oceans. The kind of dream that might include animals that have no logical relationship with one another outside of a zoo and where people from all different segments of your life converge and interact with one another.