Rewrite Redemption

by Walker, J. H.

  And when I looked up, this hard muscled Indian was standing there just staring at me.

  Talk about a rock and a hard place.

  With no place to run.

  My dad was gone when I stumbled to the kitchen the next morning. A note on the counter told me to go to school and to call at lunch. To tell the truth, I welcomed the promise of high school monotony after all the drama I’d experienced in the last, well, a heck of a long time. Had my life ever been normal? I couldn’t remember.

  I stopped by the office to see my counselor about the absences. But when I saw the look of pity on her face, I knew my mom had called her already. If she were in the middle of a tornado in the middle of a desert being chased by a pack of wild hyenas; my mother would still be responsible.

  Too bad I didn’t inherit that gene.

  I got by with skipping Monday afternoon since it coincided with the accident. Someone had turned in my backpack, and the counselor handed it over apologetically. She said she’d discussed my situation with my teachers which I appreciated since I hadn’t done any homework. Plus it gave me a free pass for less than stellar behavior for a week or so. No one would make me answer questions, pay attention, or even show up for every class. I grabbed my excuse, said thanks, and went to homeroom.

  I couldn’t sense A.J. and that scared me. I kept hoping she was just late, but I didn’t feel her all morning. Time flowed glacier slow. By fourth period, I was as tense as a guitar string. People bitched at me twice for tapping my foot and once for drumming my pen on the desk. Yeah, I was making friends left and right there at Boulder High. I was the first person to arrive at room 217, where I waited anxiously.

  Two seconds before the bell rang, Lex wandered in looking like she’d just come from a funeral. She was dressed all in black. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and it looked like she hadn’t combed her hair. She dropped into her seat with a thud and immediately laid her head on her arms.

  “Lex,” I said softly.

  She didn’t move.

  “Lex!” I repeated.

  She lifted one elbow and peered at me from underneath it. “Leave me alone!” she hissed back.

  “You okay?”

  She ignored me. I nudged her with my shoe. She kicked my foot away.

  The teacher started conjugating verbs on the board. She noticed Lex’s head down on her desk and tapped her on the shoulder, asking her to join the class. When she caught a look at Lex’s face, she did a double take but didn’t comment.

  Lex sat stoically, her arms folded across her chest and her swollen eyes half closed. The teacher didn’t bother her again. Only a fool would do that.

  Enter the fool. I wrote her a note.

  I passed it to her when the teacher turned to the blackboard. She scowled, sighed heavily, scribbled something, and tossed it back without looking at me.

  A tear ran down her face. She brushed it off angrily, staring at the front of the classroom. This was going to be harder than I thought. I was wiped out. She looked even worse. My next note was more to the point.

  She turned and glared at me like I was crazy. “What do you mean?” she mouthed.

  “A.J.,” I mouthed back to her. “I know she’s gone. I know the secret.”

  She looked at me for a few seconds longer, irritation turning to hesitant curiosity. She nodded. “Lunch,” she whispered.

  I gave her the ok sign and slumped in my seat, stretching my legs into the isle. We pretty much ignored each other for the rest of class. I sat there thinking about what to say to her, trying to come up with a good opening line.

  Finally, the bell rang.

  I bolted from the room before the teacher could launch into any kind of sympathy speech about my brother. Lex followed on my tail. By some unspoken agreement, neither of us talked until we’d cleared the building. We crossed the lawn, drawn to the maple like it had been prearranged to meet there. We dropped our stuff and she sat down.

  I touched the tree and paused for a moment, closing my eyes. It was a great tree…old, deeply connected. No wonder A.J. hung out there. I could feel a trace of her essence lingering around it. “Give me a minute,” I said to Lex.

  She didn’t question it.

  I put both palms flat on the bark. I leaned into the tree as though I was going to push it over. I reached deep into the tree’s core. Once I connected, I let the energy flow through me, filling me with calm. It wasn’t as good as A.J.’s energy, but it was still a relief. After about a minute, I held out my hands, shaking the dissonance off my fingertips.

  When I opened my eyes, she was just standing there, staring at me. My guess was that she’d seen this before. My guess was that what I’d just done said it better than any opening line I could have come up with.

  “So you’re like her,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Pretty much,” I answered. It wasn’t the time or place to go into the Shadow explanation.

  “Can you help me get her back?”

  “I can’t promise anything, but probably,” I said. “I think so.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t fall. She gave me a long, heavy look. “You better not be screwing with me, New Guy.”

  “Cross my heart.” I made the motion across my chest. “Let’s get out of here.” I pulled her to her feet and grabbed both our packs. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, let’s go to our place.”

  This time I nodded, and we set out silently for the place where I’d been spending half my nights since I’d been in Boulder. At least this time, I’d get my foot in the door.

  The Indian just stood there, head cocked; scanning me as if he wasn’t quite sure I was real. Lowering his bow, he slowly moved closer and gave my knee a tentative poke. My mind exploded, grasping frantically at possible actions, coming up empty.

  His muscled body blocked my exit, but I was too stunned to attempt escape. I just stared back, trying desperately to stop the panic, trying desperately to stop shaking, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t going to hurt me.

  My eyes locked on his but on the periphery. The knife in his belt grabbed my attention like a neon sign. My scalp tightened, adrenaline prickled from my torso down my arms, and I felt beads of sweat between my breasts. I waited for him to grab me or at least yell for the others.

  But he didn’t.

  After an hour-long minute, he knelt on one foot. Dropping his bow and watching my face, he reached out and gently lifted up a slipper. When I didn’t protest, he shifted his eyes to see the bottom. I crouched on one foot, trying to keep my balance as he ran his fingers along the ridges and traced the star on the heel. Then he set my foot back down and grabbed one of the Velcro straps, giving it a swift tug.

  It made that frrrrpppp Velcro sound, and he grinned, his dark eyes crinkling. He did the same with the other strap, this time laughing softly, grinning at me like we’d just shared a really good joke. Then he stared at me…like…questioning or something.

  I took a ragged breath and stared right back. He was big and powerful. But there was a…a kindness in his eyes…and a curiosity. I took an even breath this time and attempted to smile. Then—

  “Chief!” a rough voice startled both of us.

  The Indian stood quickly and backed away, eyes lingering on my face. He held out his hand, palm down, and shot me a quick look…like “be quiet” or something. And before the cowboy got close enough to see around the rock, the Indian turned and walked back to the campsite. The cowboy followed.

  “So whadaya think, friend? How far to the yellow rock?”

  “Half day,” the Indian answered in a low, melodic voice. “Camp here. Leave first light.”

  “Well then, how ‘bout you take that bow and arrow of yours and shoot us something to throw in with the beans?”

  The Indian just grunted. Apparently, he wasn’t going to nark on me. I hoped he’d help me. I hoped my read on him was real. I felt like we had a moment there with the Velcro thing and all. It remin
ded me of that trip when I was five. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. I was still scared, but no longer shaking. I could do this. I could get through this.

  I had no choice but to try.

  I sat back, hand against my chest, trying to slow my heartbeat with deep, even breaths. The Indian took off through the trees with his bow on his back. I stressed that one of the cowboys would walk my way for a bathroom break before the Indian came back. Luckily, they seemed content for the moment to sit around my fire, drink whiskey, and talk about the whores they’d buy when they struck gold. It was revolting—they were revolting. And the way they were talking about women put the fear of God into me, that’s for sure.

  I stroked my key, holding it for luck. Then I just crouched there, making sure not to move, making sure not to even breathe loudly…wishing hard that the Indian would return.

  I focused on the cowboy’s conversation, trying to keep from thinking about getting caught. I had to extrapolate from bits and pieces of broken banter, but it seemed that the Indian had been trading with them for a while…furs. They’d been selling the furs to another trader, who took them east, so that they could buy supplies to continue their hunt for gold. While dropping off a load of furs, the Indian had seen them panning for gold. He told them he knew where to find more of the “yellow rock” and was taking them there. And now they were making plans for what they’d do when they were rich.

  A bath would be a good idea, I thought.

  After about twenty minutes my legs began to cramp. I stretched out slowly, trying to change positions without making noise. A stick cracked and I jerked reflexively. Joe and Edgar stopped talking for a moment. I held my breath, waiting.

  Then buzzzzzzzzz!!!!

  Oh, no, no, no…! Lex’s phone alarm! I jerked and knocked my head against the rock, lurching for the backpack. Ignoring the pain, I frantically rifled through the pack, grabbed the phone, and hit off. The abrupt silence was more startling than the alarm.

  I heard them scuffle, probably going for their guns. “What the heck?” one of them hissed. “What made that racket?”

  “Over there,” said the other.

  I clutched the backpack, frozen with fear. I had no way to explain the phone. In movies, when people got caught with tech from the future, they always got burned at the stake—especially if they had red hair. My hair wasn’t red, but it was auburn—close enough. A particularly gruesome scene flashed through my mind. Shaking uncontrollably, I flung the pack out of sight in the bushes. Then I inched back between the rocks as far as I could squeeze. I dropped my face to my hands, and waited, holding my aching head.

  I heard a cackle and then a grunt. “Well, looky here,” one of them said.

  When I looked up there were two shotguns pointed my way.

  This wasn’t a movie. This was real.

  Once again, we walked in silence. What we had to say was too important to be said on the run, as though the air had ears and could carry our words in the wind. We shared a secret that was so big; we were instantly connected. When we reached the car, she got in beside me and laid her head back against the seat with her eyes closed. I just drove and let her have her space. We reached A.J.’s place in record time.

  She didn’t seem to notice that I knew the way.

  The old Victorian was shabby in the harsh, noonday sun. Apparently, no one had been to the front door in years; the path to the porch was completely grown over. Only the side path showed signs of regular traffic. I pulled up in front.

  Lex opened her eyes when I stopped. She looked out the window, and then she looked over at me. “Been here before, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said, hoping she didn’t get pissed off. Why play games? It would all come out at some point anyway. We got out and headed for the back.

  “I suppose you have a good explanation?”

  “I do,” I said. “At least I think it’s a good one. I didn’t mean any harm, if that matters.”

  “It does,” she said, “elaborate.”

  “I just needed to know where she lived…long story.”

  “Let’s get inside,” she said, pushing open the gate.

  In the dark, the tree house had impressed me. In daylight, I was blown away. The place was incredible. Lex eyed the back door warily as we tramped through the yard. Watching for A.J.’s dad, maybe? She scrambled up the ladder, motioning me to follow. We stepped up onto a porch, and she pulled out a key and unlocked the door. “A.J.?” she said softly as she pushed it open. She let out a loud breath when there was no answer.

  We walked inside, and she dropped her stuff on a coffee table made of some kind of exotic wood. She stood there for a moment, watching me look around. “New Guy,” she said, “I want answers. But first I really need to pee. So get your oohs and awes over with, and I’ll be back in two minutes. When I do, be prepared to spill.”

  “This place has a bathroom?”

  “I wish,” she as she walked out the door and across the bridge.

  I tossed my backpack in a corner. I was prepared for the thrill of being in A.J.’s space no matter what it looked like, but the inside blew my mind. The room was split in two by the trunk which acted as a kind of room divide. To the left was a brown, leather sofa. A big TV hung on the wall across from it. Above the sofa, books traversed long, inset shelves that reached to the ceiling. The floor was polished hardwood, worn smooth from use. The whole place had a really comfortable vibe.

  The other side had a kitchenette across one wall. Opposite that were a long, built-in desk, three chairs, and three computer stations. Shelves and cupboards were built in everywhere. Like a high-end, yacht galley, no space went unused.

  The planked walls and floors were old and worn with a soft sheen like finished mahogany. There was metal worked into the wood in really artistic ways. The room was a piece of art. I ran my hands down the doorframe, unable to keep from touching the wood. Silky smoothness, like polished petrified wood or glass, but warm like you’d imagine the skin of a marble statue come alive. A rush rippled up my fingers and arms and enveloped me—pure tree bliss combined with a strong jolt of A.J.’s energy added in for spice—whoa.

  The whole tree house was alive.

  For a moment I forgot everything but that soul-soothing current of calm. I sucked it up greedily. I floated on power, rejuvenating, revitalizing, reenergizing.

  Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation. The tree pulled on me, as if it was calling me to jump. My signature was blocked—no way should that be happening. You have to initiate a trip; it doesn’t come out of nowhere. You have to connect to the right ring. You have to adjust your vibrations to the patterns of the time frame. This was like the TV playing without a power source.

  The pull was strong, enticing, compelling. Reluctantly, I pulled my hands away, shook them, took a breath, and tried again. The pull was stronger still. It reached down inside me and swirled around my core, compelling, enticing…commanding. Okay, there were things going on there I didn’t understand. Maybe it had something to do with the melding.

  Now I was the one wanting answers.

  “Whadda we have here?” asked the one called Joe. He spit a wad of brown goop at my feet and leered at me.

  I flinched and pulled my hat tighter on my head. The big one grinned and gestured at me with his shotgun. “Who are you, boy? Whadaya doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

  I looked up at them without answering. My head throbbed from knocking it on the rocks, and I felt a little dizzy. I wasn’t exactly seeing double, but I was having a hard time focusing. I didn’t know if I could get up without falling over. And besides, it all seemed so surreal, like I was in some Nick at Nite cowboy movie. I didn’t really know how to respond.

  “Hey, boy, I’m talkin’ to you,” Joe snarled, nudging me with his toe. “How’d you make that racket?”

  What do I do now, guys? I asked in my head to Lex and Ipod—neither of whom seemed to have anything to say. My mind was blank. I swallowed and tried to speak. “I—”

/>   “Give him a minute, Joe. Can’t you see he’s about to piss his pants?” said the big one.

  Joe hooted and then reached out and grabbed me by the arm. “Come outta there, boy.” He pulled me to my feet and out of the rocks, looking suspiciously at my clothes. “Skinny little thing, ain’t he? How’d you make that noise?”

  The big one spoke. “Where you from, boy? Whadaya doin’ out here by yourself?”

  “Umm CCColorado,” I stammered, clutching my hoodie tight around me. I searched frantically for the Indian, but couldn’t see him anywhere.

  “CCColorado? You ever heard of that, Joe?”

  “Nope.” Joe yanked me by the arm out into the open. “Why you dressed so funny?” he asked suspiciously. “Looky this, Edgar. Feel this. Ever feel anything this soft?” They both fingered my hoodie. “Ever seen buttons like that? Whadaya think they’re made of?”

  “Don’t rightly know.”

  “Look at the tiny stitchin’ on this thing,” Joe said. “Never seen such even stichin’. This has got to cost a pretty penny. This is some kind of fancy boy. Whatdaya doin’ out here, fancy boy?”

  “Leave me alone!” I growled. I scowled, wrapped my arms around myself, and backed up a few steps.

  “Whoa, spunk! Come back here, boy,” said Joe.

  I didn’t move.

  “I said, come here, boy,” Joe snarled, glaring at me and chewing on his mustache.

  I inched forward, wobbling as I held my hand to my head.

  He grabbed my arm again and dragged me, stumbling, back to the campsite. He shoved me against a large cottonwood, making my head scream with pain. “You stay put while we have a little powwow,” he ordered. “Don’t even think a runnin’.”