Solstice - Of The Heart

by John Blenkush

  Okay. Change of subject. I went with the flow.

  “Was horrendous.”

  “Oh, yeah. You mean Mr. God-man’s walking you to school was horrific?”

  “No. But he did lie to me. He told me he was going home for lunch to shovel snow.”

  “Got a bit of news for you, girl. All men lie to their women at some time or another.”

  “That’s a given. He did tell me later he didn’t go home because it stopped snowing.”

  “See. And they always have the perfect excuse too.”

  “But you’ll never guess what I saw him doing in the halls.”

  “Kissing another girl.”

  “No, but now that you brought it up, he will be going lip to lip with another girl.”

  “Okay, what am I missing here? You’re not freaking out.”

  “It’s for the school play. He’s playing Romeo.”

  Cherrie chuckled. “That’s a laugh. The stud playing Romeo. You know he’ll have to wear tights and cut his hair, don’t you?”

  “They’re not going to make him cut his hair.”

  “But he’ll have to wear tights.”

  “I can live with it.”

  “So what did he do in the hall?”

  “I saw the three of them, Aaron, Beau, and Bel, walking through the halls, touching people.”

  Cherrie’s face turned somber.

  “And everyone they touched... well, they seemed to wilt, like they had lost their energy. And then later a lot of kids turned up sick.”

  Cherrie swung her legs off the bed. She came and sat down in front of me on the floor.

  “Julissa” (she never calls me that!) “you can’t go hiking with this guy.”

  I moved to the floor beside Cherrie.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but he’s not dangerous. I had him touch me in Biology class. I didn’t feel any different after he did it.”

  “No. Not that time. But what about the next time? What about the time when it’s either him or you?”

  “You’re going to have to help me out here. I’m having a hard time understanding what’s going on. I can’t even keep my head straight anymore. For god-sakes, I even kissed a teacher today.”

  “You did what?”

  “Kissed a teacher.”

  “Where?”

  “In Art class. In the back. We were building a kiln.”

  Cherrie tapped her lips and raised an eyebrow.

  I nodded.

  “You kissed Joe Leach on the lips?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t like you’re thinking.”

  “No? Like you didn’t actually touch his lips?”

  “I did, but it was more like a daughter-father thing.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Whittinghill will take that into account when they fire Joe Leach.”

  “You don’t think they will, do you?”

  “Anyone see you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Swell. Who?”

  “Kevin Staufer.”

  “Don’t know him.”

  “He’s Lindsay Richard’s boyfriend.”

  “That doesn’t help. You think he’ll tell?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if he actually saw us.”

  “You’d better think of a story, girl, or Joe is history.”

  “What can I say? It just happened.”

  “Best you can do, and I hate to bring this up, is tell them you miss your dad and you flipped so you kissed Joe instead. Act crazy.”

  “They’ll send me to counseling.”

  “Better than Joe sent packing. I like him, you know. He’s the only teacher that treated me with respect. And as long as you’re acting crazy, you tell Aaron you can’t go hiking with him. He’ll understand, because, like I said, you’ll be acting crazy.”

  “I don’t understand why. Aaron is not going to hurt me.”

  “You got that right. You don’t understand. He may not have a choice.”

  “Why? What are you saying? You’re telling me Aaron can’t control himself?”

  “Not always, I’d bet.”

  “Well, I’ll just have to go and find out.”

  Cherrie jumped to her feet.

  “Then go and get yourself killed if you want!”

  “Cherrie! What are you talking about? Aaron’s not going to kill me. Why would he do that?”

  “I just told you. He may not have a choice. He may not want to, but if it comes to him dying or you dying, he’s got to choose himself.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m dead serious. Sorry, poor choice of words.”

  I rose to my feet and circled Cherrie in order to get a better look at her face. I had never seen the look she showed. It looked cold, lifeless, the one you see on people who are facing overwhelming dread.

  “What’s wrong, Cherrie?”

  Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes watered. She shook.

  “Ah, Cherrie.”

  I pulled her in close. Hugged her. Stroked her hair. I could feel her pain.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  She put her mouth to my ear. In an almost inaudible voice, she said, “Bernard killed grandpa.”

  I pushed her back. I looked into her eyes. They weren’t lying. There wasn’t any room for deceit. I could see her soul filled to overflowing with anguish.

  “How? You mean your grandpa? Garl?”

  Cherrie nodded.

  I pulled her over to the bed and sat her down.

  “We’ll have to tell the police,” I said.

  Cherrie groaned. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Well, then tell me.”

  “When was the last time you saw my grandpa?”

  “Cherrie, I’ve never seen your grandfather.”

  “Exactly.”

  The realization came slowly, like a serpent weaving its way into my consciousness.

  “He’s been gone a long time, that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t tell anybody?”

  It was mumbled, but I heard her say “No.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t you tell someone?”

  “He told me not too.”

  “Bernard told you not to?”

  “No. Grandpa did. After I took him to the shack to die.”

  “Okay, you lost me again. Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

  “It happened last summer. A year ago. Garland...”

  “Garland is Garl?”

  “That’s my grandpa’s full name. We just called him Garl for short.”

  “So how did he die?”

  “Remember I told you Garland was one of the story tellers.”

  “Yes.”

  Cherrie pointed to the Lemurian book.

  “He read a lot. He knew a lot from what was handed down to him from the old timers. He knew JC Brown personally.”

  “And who’s that?”

  “Grandpa said JC Brown’s real name was JB Body. Few knew the history. Grandpa was one of them.”

  I looked puzzled so Cherrie filled me in.

  “Grandpa said Brown claimed he had found a hidden tunnel on Shasta while prospecting for a mining company in nineteen-thirty-four. He told grandpa and a few others, that some miles—I think he said eleven miles inside the mountain—he found a huge cave big enough to hold a village. He claimed it had streets and it was filled with all kinds of ornate things made of gold and copper including spears and glass that wouldn’t break.”

  “Sounds like a fairy tale.”

  “He also said he found skeletons. They were large. If I remember right, grandpa said they were ten feet tall.”

  “Is that why Bernard killed him because Garl was fabricating these stories about the Lemurians?”

  “No. They were friends. They’d hang out together in Billy Goat’s Tavern. They didn’t drink much. Usually. Just a couple of guys passing the time, telling stories.

  “Two old lonely guy
s, huh?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but Garland told me he and Bernard got in an argument in the bar. Garland told me Bernard tried to walk away. He defended Bernard, saying it wasn’t his fault. He said, ‘I pushed him into a corner’. Grandpa could get pretty mean after a few drinks.”

  There was something Cherrie wasn’t saying. Thoughts of Cherrie being man handled by Garland entered my mind, but I wasn’t about to ask the question. Not now, anyway.

  “Garland said he was pissed because Bernard turned his back on him. He followed Bernard out to the parking lot. Garland told me he yelled at Bernard, cussing him out for not being a good friend. He kept telling me it wasn’t Bernard’s fault. Bernard hadn’t been to the mountain in weeks. He was running low on life-force. Growing weaker.”

  I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

  “Garland said he took the first swing. ‘Nearly knocked Bernard’s jaw off’, he said. Bernard fell back. Garland reached out to stop his fall. That’s when they locked hands.”

  Cherrie stopped. She looked down. Her lips convulsed.

  “Grandpa said it only took a second or so. He fell to the ground. He thought he was having a heart attack.”

  I held Cherrie and massaged her shoulders.

  “It’s okay. Go on. You said you took Garland to a shack. Why?”

  “Yes, the next day.”

  “So he didn’t die.”

  “Not then. But he was, as he put it, beyond repair. He said there is a point of no return and he had reached it. I told him I would take him to the hospital, but he got mad. Told me if I did I’d wind up in some orphanage. He scared the shit out of me. I could see he was dying, and fast. We drove up I-5 into Oregon.”

  “Where you left him in a shack.”

  “He said it’s where he wanted to die. He went fishing there when he was a kid. Said there weren’t any shallow fish in the lake. All deep water.”

  “How do you know he died?”

  “Because I waited and watched. I saw him die.”

  “You just left him there. You didn’t tell anyone?”

  “He told me not too. He said no one knew about the shack. It’s a tiny shed tucked way back in the deep of the forest off the beaten trail. I couldn’t find it now even if I wanted to. The only way I found it the first time was he showed me. I don’t know how I found my way back out. He told me to go home. To act like nothing happened. He told me to tell absolutely no one.”

  I looked around at the basement. Not much to look at. Not even a TV or computer.

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “Don’t know. Been awhile. Try not to go up there.”

  “No one asks about your grandpa? How he’s doing? Where he’s at?”

  “Grandpa wasn’t a social bug. People don’t miss old men.”

  “How’re you living, Cherrie? Who pays the bills? I mean you got to have some money.”

  “I do. I pay the bills. It’s the one thing Garland told me to do. He said to sign his social security checks and deposit them in the bank. I’d been doing the deposits for grandpa before he died, so no one at the bank questions me.”

  “This is unreal.”

  “Yes, it is. But it’s also very real. I’m not lying to you. Bernard killed grandpa. He didn’t want to according to grandpa. But it happened anyway. Bernard lost control. That’s why you can’t go with Aaron on a hike.”

  “You think he might suck the life-force out of me.”

  “If the right circumstances present themselves.”

  “What are the odds of that happening? I could be struck by lightning first.”

  “All I know is if Bernard could do what he did to my grandfather and, if it is true like you say, Aaron pulled the LC off the cliff, made a pig come to life, and can talk to others through, what did you say? A walnut? Then he has powers beyond what any of us can understand. The question is; is he capable of controlling those powers and do so one-hundred percent of the time?”

  I thought about what Cherrie said for a minute.

  “I’m willing to take the chance.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to get to know him. I’ve never felt so excited about another person in my life.”

  “That life being sixteen years. You got plenty of life left to meet and get excited with a lot of people. Don’t blow it on this guy.”

  “You think Aaron is Lemurian?”

  “If he has the gift to be doing what he is doing, yes. Grandpa said Bernard once told him he was a direct descendant of the Lemurians and there are others and they all were born with the ability to do things us regular folk could never do. But he didn’t believe him at the time. All the old timers here in Mount Shasta tell stories about the Lemurians and the village beneath Shasta. It’s common folklore. So Grandpa dismissed it as Bernard one-upping everyone else.”

  “I still don’t see Aaron as dangerous.”

  “You don’t. I do. So did grandpa.”

  “Why? What else did he say?”

  “He said Bernard was teaching the young ones how to exploit their ability by harnessing the power to get the most use out of it. Grandpa was concerned as to where it would end. He said Bernard was on a power trip, that he was becoming a madman whose thirst couldn’t be quenched.

  I walked home dazed and confused. It’s a short walk, a few steps across the street, but I didn’t make it.

  The blow came from behind. I spun around. My head whacked the white-ice pavement. I slid down the hill as though I were a human toboggan.

  I heard voices. One was shrill, calling my name. I recognized it as Dierdra’s voice. Then all went silent.

  And black.

  13 DEAL

  I woke up to the sound of snoring. It was dark in the room. Rain pattered against the window.

  My head hurt.

  I reached up to silence the pain and felt the bandage and the bump on my temple. A tube ran from my arm, a bag of liquid hanging above. I was being fed something intravenously. It made me sleepy, disoriented.

  I drifted off.

  I found myself high on a mountain. Clouds drifted by. They were close. Very close. I reached out and pulled one in. I squeezed it into a ball, the same way a child does with cotton candy. I pushed, prodded, and punched until the cloud became the size of a tennis ball. I did the same thing to another, and another. I piled the balls up at my feet. When I had finished the sky became blue, absent of clouds.

  Out of the sky’s depth a flock of Canadian geese, flying in V formation, came directly toward me. I felt threatened, as though I knew they were on a mission to knock me off the pinnacle I stood on. I threw cloud balls at them, but there wasn’t any weight to the orbs. They simply floated out and away from the string of geese. They didn’t strike the birds at all.

  One more cloud ball remained. I waited and waited until the lead goose was but a few feet from me. Then I threw the cloud ball. I aimed for its eye.

  Again the orb flew listlessly through the air. The geese broke from formation and surrounded the cloud ball. They pecked at it, pulling the ball apart. It returned to its original self—a big billowy cloud.

  I felt a presence beside me. Far off I saw lightning. Not the kind you see as a bolt during a thunderstorm, but one of rainbow color. It stretched from horizon to horizon. I smelled the scorched air and turned.

  Aaron stood before me, more noble and handsome than I had ever seen him. I didn’t think that was possible, but the thin azure colored air with the burst of rainbow lightning flickering behind him, all contributed to his radiance. Down below, his golden locks rarely seemed to move. Here they did, waving gently from a breeze. His blue eyes told of a sense of content and happiness. They spoke love, truth, and trust, all of which I accepted at face value.

  He reached out a hand and, when I returned my hand in kind, he laced his fingers through my fingers. We were locked as one, never to be separated, so I thought.

  We walked across the mountain top to a high point.

&n
bsp; The geese, their beaks entwined in the edging of the cloud, drove it up close to the mountain as one would a car to the curb.

  We stepped across and onto the cloud.

  The geese flapped their wings faster.

  We moved forward. As we jetted onward, the billowy cloud transformed into a wave-cloud. It resembled the design on my beanie.

  I didn’t know where we were going and I didn’t care. As long as Aaron held my hand, I felt safe.

  I looked down.

  We were high, maybe a couple of miles above the ground. Everything below us looked small, a miniature form of the earth with ants crawling over the surface.

  In the distance I saw Mount Shasta. Snow covered her from summit to flank. Shastina, Shasta’s sister, was covered in white as well.

  The geese pulled our cloud to the side of the mountain. They stopped.

  We stepped off.

  The snow pack was made of deep powder, in the tens of feet, but we didn’t sink. We walked on top of it. I heard the cold crunch of snow beneath our feet.

  At once I knew we should be freezing to death. I wore a nightgown, yet I didn’t feel chilled. I didn’t feel anything except an inner burning of love. This, I felt, kept my bare feet from being frostbitten. As long as I loved, and was loved, I would not succumb to the elements.

  This was my belief.

  In the distance I heard a bell. I saw Aaron smile. He pointed with his free hand and I saw him say, “come”, for I could not hear his words over the bang of the bell.

  We traveled around the mountain toward the sound of the signal. It grew clearer, more pronounced, more musical than the thong-thong-thong we’d been hearing. Suddenly we were there, at the golden arch, the bell hanging at its apex. We slipped in through a crack of the rock, unseen even as I slid through.

  I heard a murmur, like the singing of bugs on a hot, humid summer night in Minnesota. Down the passageway I saw light.

  Aaron tightened his grip on my hand. He led me down the corridor.

  The cavity opened large into an expanding chamber. I became miniature. Tiny in comparison to the structure that held me, diminutive next to the contents it held.

  The murmur came from humans, ten feet tall, dressed in robes and sandals, blonde curly hair down to their shoulders, eyes of blue. They wore ornaments of gold and silver around their long slender necks. They spoke, but not with their mouths. The mutter came from the undulating bumps on their foreheads.