Shaman, Healer, Heretic (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman)

by Green, M. Terry

  He had learned in other camps that as long as you didn’t bring the cops, molest anybody, or steal from the other residents (much), you could stay if there was room. As the light faded, he leaned back with his head upslope and took out his bottle. It was something strong tonight, something he’d found in a trash can near a bus stop. Lately, those were the best cans.

  He took a long swig and looked downslope. There were no fires and the camp was getting dark fast. The last thing local cops would tolerate was a fire. He took another swig and was watching a couple argue down by the chain link fence at the bottom of the slope when he saw something moving at the edge of his vision. He’d thought he was as far up as you could go and turned to look. Maybe somebody was coming down from above.

  It wasn’t a person, though, it was a dog–a huge one. On his way up he’d noticed that some of the people in the camp had dogs. In fact, some had multiple dogs. They claimed it helped with the begging when people saw you had a pet. This dog didn’t look like any of those. It looked too good with its fluffy grey coat and vibrant white highlights.

  Below, all at once, the dogs in the camp started to howl. Even with the din of the freeway he could hear it. As he watched, the great dog lumbered down the slope, off to the right. There was a commotion below as some of the residents decided to scurry out from under the overpass. Sometimes animals went nuts before an earthquake and these people weren’t going to take a chance. They hadn’t seen the big dog yet.

  The dogs that weren’t on leashes had pulled free of their owners and were running away to the left. The others jerked frantically, half choking, half howling as they strained against their ropes and chains. People everywhere in the camp were starting to get up but nobody seemed to see the big dog.

  As he watched it, he realized what it was and sat up.

  “It’s a wolf,” he shouted, pointing at it. “A wolf.”

  No one turned to look at him, though. Nobody had heard. The howling and yelping dogs and the freeway were drowning out all other sounds. No one was looking upslope either; everyone was watching the small dogs.

  He stood up and waved.

  “It’s the wolf,” he shouted again, cupping one hand to his mouth.

  Again, no one took notice–except the wolf. As he pointed at it, he saw it turn its eyes on him, red eyes that were lit from within. It had stopped its descent down the slope and was looking directly at him. He dropped his hands.

  Slowly, it started coming back upslope, head low, staring at him. Then, it began to trot. It went right past a couple of other people as though it hadn’t seen them. The other dogs were going insane. The newcomer started to back up but sat down immediately, dropping his bottle, as his heels dug into the slope. The dogs below were snarling and snapping at their owners, desperate to escape.

  The wolf moved at incredible speed and, as it launched itself at him in an arching jump, it laid back its ears and bared its teeth. He screamed as he brought up his arms to cover his face but his scream was cut short. The giant jaws opened and snapped down around him. But instead of meeting flesh, the savage teeth passed right through him. His vision seemed to jerk sideways for a second and he felt a moment of nausea. His vision was darkening but he looked up just in time to see the last thing he’d ever see–the wolf, clutching a transparent yellow version of himself in its jaws. His body fell back with a dusty and muffled thud.

  As the wolf looked back downslope, chewing and swallowing, the dogs began whimpering. Slowly, it turned around and walked into the side of the hill, disappearing. As the dogs quieted, the camp residents started to settle back down as well. A few altercations started but mostly people drifted back to their places. Owners alternately scolded their dogs, comforted them and then argued with them, but nobody looked upslope, to the darkest part of the overpass.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  AS SHE LEFT her apartment, Livvy realized she had been hoping to see the kachina waiting in the hallway but it was empty. Although she had slept in the afternoon, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Weird dreams, one after another, had featured him or, more specifically the search for him, but to no avail.

  She exited the building and closed the metal gate behind her, hearing the lock click into place. The night air had become cool. She zipped her jacket up to the chin and kept her hands in the deep pockets. It looked like a full moon, she thought, gazing up as she headed for the bus stop. Nacho hadn’t shown up either, not that he always did, but his absence worried her. She decided to take a shortcut between the buildings to the next block to see if he might be in the alley.

  Still thinking about the kachina and Tiamat, and looking for Nacho, she hadn’t noticed the three punks who had followed her.

  “Shaman scum,” came a voice from behind her.

  Without stopping, she turned to look. They had just passed a street light and were backlit. There were three dark figures who looked to be teenage boys. She picked up the pace. The street was still half a block away. The backs of the apartment buildings that lined the alley had carports and trash dumpsters but no path between them that would lead back to the main street.

  She heard footfalls behind her now, running. She did likewise. A loud rattling and scraping sound started and, running hard, she glanced back to see one of them on a skateboard.

  As she ran past the carports she looked from one side to the other searching for an escape but there were no paths leading out. Suddenly, there was a shooting pain behind her left knee that almost sent her tumbling and she heard the skateboard clattering against a wall. The guy had launched it like a missile and although she was still on her feet, she had lost ground. She could hear their footsteps nearly on top of her and it was clear she wasn’t going to make it to the end of the alley.

  “Get her,” hissed a voice from further back, as a hand grabbed the back of her jacket.

  She jerked free but again lost ground. Someone grabbed her arm and she swung her bag around in that direction and felt it connect. She heard someone cursing but they managed to snatch the bag, which was still looped around her torso.

  She writhed as she tried to free herself from it but her arm became tangled and then she slammed into the ground, on her side.

  As she struggled to get up, she realized that she was helping their cause as the three of them managed to jerk her completely off the ground. Quickly they moved over to the darkness of the nearest carport.

  “Help!” she screamed. “Help!” she managed a second time before a hand grabbed her face, covered her mouth, and forced her head against the stucco wall with a crunch. A whiff of ozone was the only remnant of the static spark that had been smothered just below her nose.

  They were almost in complete darkness, under one of the carport overhangs, in a narrow space between the wall and a car.

  “Shaman scum,” hissed one of the boys, all of whom had shaved heads and were taller than her. “We’re sick of your kind, white witch.”

  He was breathing hard and Livvy could smell alcohol and cigarettes.

  “Just do her,” said one of the other ones.

  There was one on each side, pinning her arms to the wall.

  “Hurry man,” said the other.

  The one with his hand over her mouth gave her a crooked smile. A gleaming gold cap over one of his eyeteeth glinted in the dimness. With his other hand, he unzipped her jacket. She tried to jerk away but the other two had tight grips. She managed to get off a kick but it glanced off the one in front of her. Someone stepped down hard on that foot.

  “Come on, man, hurry,” said the first one.

  “Shut it,” growled the one in front of her, glaring at the guy on her left. “You’ll get yours.”

  When he moved his head, Livvy could see a small red light flashing on the dash of the car behind him–a car alarm.

  He grabbed her shirt and yanked it up to get to the top of her jeans but as his hand shifted she opened her mouth and bit down hard, tasting blood. He yelped in pain, taking his hand back and backing u
p. His two accomplices were as surprised as he was and for the few seconds she needed, they loosened their grips. She kicked desperately between the guy in front of her and the guy to the right and landed a solid foot on the car, setting off the alarm.

  “Filthy witch,” yelled the one in front, as he landed a quick punch to her mid-section.

  The air escaped her in a rush as she doubled over. The guy on her left let go and she swung sideways without equal support, coming down on one knee. The car alarm was blaring in the confined carport but she was barely hearing it, barely hanging on to consciousness as the pain of the blow sapped the rest of her body’s ability to move.

  “Hey!” said one of them. “Somebody’s coming.”

  The other hands let go and she started to sink, sliding down against the wall, until a hand around her throat stopped her.

  “I’ll be coming for you shaman,” he said, breathing in her face as he squeezed his fingers tighter. “You better not be here when I get back.”

  He shoved her head back and it hit the wall with a thump. As she slid to the ground, she saw their feet retreating before her eyes closed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  BY THE TIME the paramedics arrived, she was able to sit up. As they approached, the woman who had helped her stood up and rejoined the small crowd that had assembled in the alley. Livvy tried to stand up as well.

  “No, just hold on for a second,” said the paramedic in front, as he eased her slowly back to the ground. “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Livvy,” she said, grunting as she sat down. “I mean Olivia.”

  “Good, Livvy, do you have a last name?”

  “Lawson.”

  “Olivia Lawson,” said the paramedic. “Good. Can you tell me where you live?”

  A police car slowly rolled into the alley and came to a stop in front of the crowd.

  She gave her address.

  “Are you in any pain?” asked the paramedic.

  Livvy recognized him then.

  “You’re the guy from the hospital,” she said, weakly.

  He smiled a gorgeous smile.

  “That’s right,” he said, still smiling but moving his hands down her arms feeling for any broken bones. “Your memory’s all right.”

  His partner put a pressure cuff around one of her arms and inflated it.

  “How many fingers do you see?” said the paramedic.

  “Two,” she said.

  The police officer came over with her bag and a clipboard.

  “Real good,” said the paramedic.

  He took a small pen light out of his pocket.

  “Follow the light for me,” he said as he pointed it between her eyes and then moved it off sideways. “Good,” he said, going back to the center. “Again,” he said, going in the other direction.

  “Blood pressure and heart rate are normal,” said the other paramedic. “No sign of concussion?”

  “No sign of concussion,” said the first paramedic, who looked back down to her. “Do you want to try standing?”

  She nodded yes.

  “All right, let’s have you sit on the edge of the ambulance for a bit. We’re going to help you up, so try not to go too fast. We’re going to take it nice and slow.”

  As she stood up, she wobbled for a second or two, but with one paramedic under each arm, they helped her over to the back of the ambulance and she sat down on the bumper. There was an even larger crowd now. She looked at them nervously, wondering if the punks were still here, but she didn’t recognize anybody.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” said the police officer.

  She recounted the story and the police officer asked questions but there was little information she could supply in the way of descriptions. Then, when she got to the part where they had called her “shaman scum”, the police officer’s attitude cooled noticeably.

  As the officer made notes, the paramedic took her pulse again.

  “Looks like you’ve got a bump on the back of your head and bruising on your throat,” he said. “You know, you’re lucky it wasn’t worse than that. Much worse.”

  The officer tore off a carbon copy of the form he’d been filling out and handed it to her.

  “Walking down an alley at night in this neighborhood is asking for trouble,” he said.

  The second paramedic packed up their boxes and put them into a side compartment on the ambulance. It felt like getting tossed out of the hospital–except for the fact that her attackers could be around the next corner.

  “They said they’d be back,” she said, as she took the paper and stood up. “They might know where I live.”

  “I doubt it,” said the cop, handing her bag over. “They left your wallet, your phone, and that pair of goggles in there.”

  He held it out like it was diseased. She took the bag, as the second paramedic came around to the back.

  “All set?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah,” said the cop, as he folded up his clipboard and turned toward his car, without a glance at her.

  “I guess so,” said Livvy as she looked through the bag.

  Everything was there, of course. They hadn’t intended to rob her. As she watched the cop go back to his car, she wondered if the report would even get filed. He got in and drove away, dispersing what was left of the crowd as he did.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” said the paramedic, after they’d watched the cop drive away.

  It made Livvy laugh. It hurt her stomach but she laughed anyway. She looked at him and, even in the dimness, she realized that his skin was olive colored, his short hair jet black and straight. His dark eyes were smiling but focused on her with an intensity that made her feel suddenly shy.

  “You should try that more often,” he said. “That whole smiling laughing thing looks good on you.”

  She was glad for the relative darkness now, since she knew she must be blushing a bright red. The engine on the ambulance started up, distracting him. When he looked back he was serious.

  “Are you headed home now?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she lied.

  “Good. Just stay out of alleys okay?”

  “Promise,” she said.

  He stared at her for a few moments.

  “All right, I’ve got to go.”

  He looked as though he wanted to say more.

  “Please be careful,” he said.

  “I will.”

  As he walked back to the ambulance, Livvy headed for the street. A few stragglers watched her warily as she passed. As she slung the messenger bag over her shoulder, the ambulance rolled past her and she saw the paramedic looking at her through the window. He gave a quick wave and then was gone.

  Livvy hurried the remaining distance to the sidewalk. Not only did she want to get out of the alley, she was now at least an hour late for her appointment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  THE WOMAN’S GOGGLES buzzed to life in the dark room. They weren’t tuned quite right but the imbalance wasn’t a problem. After all, she didn’t have to wear them. The buzzing was annoying, not lethal, especially not for the creatures that would be using it.

  The woman sipped her margarita from a tall crystal highball glass with a wedge of lime at the edge. As she waited for the rest of the electronics to warm up, she tasted the salt at the rim.

  “Good,” she said, nodding.

  She padded around the new condo, very pleased as her toes dug into the thick carpet. Maybe tomorrow she’d do more furniture shopping or get a bread maker for the kitchen.

  Unfortunately, there was no view from this room. Not only had she drawn the vertical blinds closed, she had taped cardboard over the glass. From the bedroom, you could see the lights of the city stretching out to the distance and eventually the ocean. In the living room, she had to be careful.

  As the electronics warmed up, the buzzing got louder. She went back to the table where the goggles lay and tweaked a small knob on the side. They were almost completely disasse
mbled. Instead of the black molded plastic that looked like bulky sunglasses, the components and wires were spilling out. The thin multicolored leads went to a small box, about a foot square and three inches deep on the table next to the goggles. It had a home-built look, plain grey metal with pre-cut holes that could be punched out. Most of the openings had small toggle switches and dials in them. Others had LED indicators of various colors.

  When the buzzing didn’t stop, she reached over and adjusted one of the controls on the housing, turning it ever so slightly as she sipped.

  “Come on,” she said, coaxing it.

  It quieted down.

  “Good,” she said.

  As she watched, the first small bulb flared on. She turned away again, skating a slow and wide arc through the living room.

  She glanced back and saw that the second lamp was on. On the other side of the makeshift controller, a bunch of wires that were tie-wrapped together ran off the end of the table and then along the floor over to the nearby wall.

  At the baseboard, the cable split into two equal bundles that went right and left. Then they both shot straight up to the ceiling about eight feet apart. There they made reverse right angles and met again in the middle at a much smaller metal box. It had no switches or controls but it had LEDs, and the first one was on. A faint luminescence began to grow on the wall below it, eventually filling most of the frame created by the cables. She looked back to the goggles and saw that the lenses were glowing. The dark glass coverings had been removed, the mirrors reversed, and the prisms repositioned such that symbols on the tiny movie screens inside bounced off the mirrors and were projected on the wall.

  The second of the three control lamps brightened on the table. When she looked up, she saw the LED there had turned on as well.

  “Let the show begin,” she said, as she took a seat in an overstuffed leather chair, the ice cubes tinkling.

  Finally, the last indicator on both boxes blazed to life as did the animated projection. She watched as the iconic symbols of the transition between worlds floated like giant amoebas. The reds, yellows, and oranges weren’t as intense as when wearing the goggles but they were still there, morphing and changing, becoming indistinct.