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Touching Cottonwood

Page 76

by Randall Simpson


  Rebecca continued staring down into the abyss. Eddie’s words meant nothing. From a void comes only a void. She felt no fear. She watched the chaotic crashing of water mixing with the mist below and now saw only a beautiful and eternal dance. She never thought of the falls as alive before—a part of a living universe—but now she knew the truth of it with an unshakable certainty, and with that certainty, she was prepared to combine her life and spirit. Faith to the end!

  Ninety-Four

  Hounds in the Garden

  Takara heard them first. She was cleaning up the dishes from teatime with Amida, when the low plaintive sound of Maxie and Chloe barking on the front porch echoed through the house. She went to the front door and saw the dogs’ large wet noses pressed low against the screen. As though in sync with each other, the hounds bent down and sniffed along the very bottom of the door.

  She looked up and saw Officer Burnham standing behind them. “Hello, ma’am,” he said, smiling through the screen.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, glancing back down at the hounds.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I’m helping Sheriff O’Neil search for an escaped fugitive…and well…my hounds, it seems, have led me right to your front door.”

  Takara stared at him for a moment, glanced at the hounds, and then back to him. “Missing fugitive? We haven’t seen any missing fugitive around here. Now, please get your dogs off my porch. They’re pressing against the screen so hard, I’m afraid they’ll push it in. Please, go away.”

  Takara started to turn away, but the officer stopped her. “Uh, ma’am, my dogs don’t make mistakes. They’ve followed the scent trail all the way from town, and if they tell me the target came up to this door, I’ve got to believe them.”

  “I don’t care what your dogs are telling you, you need to get off my—”

  “Is there something we can help you with?” asked Amida, not intentionally interrupting Takara as his voice came from the officer’s right. He had stepped up onto the porch from the outside.

  The officer turned and smiled. “Hello, yes, I’m Officer Burnham with the state patrol, and I was just telling the lady here that I’ve been helping Sheriff O’Neil track down an escaped fugitive…and well, the scent trail has led me here—right to your front door.”

  Takara remained inside, observing through the screen door. Amida did not respond right away but instead bent over and patted Chloe on the head. “A fugitive, you say?” he finally said, looking up at the officer. “Around here? What kind of fugitive could we have around Cottonwood?”

  “He escaped from jail last night,” said the officer. “And please, don’t pet my dogs when they’re working…it distracts them.”

  Amida stopped petting Chloe and smiled. “They have dogs working now? Is that what the world has come to? Humans can’t do enough work themselves, so they must put dogs to work?”

  Officer Burnham didn’t smile. “Mister, uh?”

  “Yamamoto…Amida Yamamoto,” replied Amida, bowing slightly and then reaching out to shake the officer’s hand. “And that is my wife, Takara,” he added, nodding toward the door.

  “Ma’am,” the officer said, glancing at Takara and then back to Amida. “Look, Mr. Yamamoto, I assure you that I’m assisting the sheriff in some very serious police business. There is an escaped convict loose around here somewhere, and well…it sure looks like he must have stood right here, not so long ago.”

  Amida’s eyes sparkled as he stared at the officer for a moment. “A convict on the loose? Someone who has committed some sort of crime, I take it?”

  “That’s usually what convicts have done. That’s sort of what makes them convicts.”

  “I said committed, not convicted. Has this person committed a crime?”

  The officer looked confused. “I don’t get your point. He’s a wanted escapee, and we’re looking for him.”

  “I understand that you don’t get my point, but if you’re looking for a convict you say has committed a crime, then I’ve seen no convicts around here,” replied Amida. “Please, be so kind as to take your working dogs back to their office or wherever working dogs go when they’re done with their work day.”

  The officer was not amused, nor was he budging. “I can get a warrant to come inside your house if I need to, Mr. Yamamoto.”

  Amida was about to say something, but before he could, Takara pushed open the door. “We’ve got nothing to hide here,” she said, looking at the officer, “but if they break even one thing in my house, it will be replaced—and most of it comes from Japan!”

  Amida frowned at her, but she pushed the door open all the way, and the hounds quickly bounded inside, followed by the officer and then her husband. Before Takara had time enough to worry about the hounds’ large wagging tails knocking over any of her fine decorations, they were already through the living room and into the kitchen, sniffing around the table.

  Amida and Takara followed behind the officer as the hounds moved over to the back door. “I guess it was only a quick stop in the house—they want to go out into the garden,” said the officer. “Do you mind?”

  Waved on by Amida, the officer pushed open the back door and followed Maxie and Chloe into the perfectly sculpted garden. The trio was followed by Amida and then Takara. At the entry to the garden was a small pond filled with mottled orange, black, and white koi. The fish darted to the other side of the pond as the hounds stopped and lapped up huge tongue-fuls of water.

  “I guess they were thirsty,” said the officer as he smiled sheepishly back to Amida and Takara. “It was a long walk from town.”

  Amida did not smile back. “So now your convict is hanging out in my Zen garden?” said Amida. “At least he has some aesthetic sense then!”

  The dogs finished their drinks and then immediately zeroed back into the scent trail, pulling the officer strongly along the path that wound its way toward the back of the garden. Both Takara and Amida continued to follow a few steps behind. Eventually, the whole group ended up at the very back of the garden, in a small grassy area with a bench nearby. The grass was clearly matted down, as though someone had been lying on it fairly recently. Maxie and Chloe sniffed the matted area with extreme interest.

  “The target has been here, Mr. Yamamoto,” said the officer, no longer smiling. “He came through your house, walked down the path, and was sitting or lying down right here.”

  Amida shook his head. “Now you say target?” he replied. “And before it was convict? Your words are strange—perhaps because you are attempting to put some kind of boundaries on things that have no boundaries. Perhaps a man rested here, or perhaps it was a restless man; perhaps he was convicted of something, but committed no crime. I think the labels we put on things can blind us to the truth of them. You have called your hounds working dogs, for that is how you perceive reality, but I’ve watched their tails wagging the whole time, and though I do not inhabit the world they know, I think they are enjoying themselves and should be called playing dogs. But let us not quibble with words—for they only confuse us. Let’s forget the words so that we can get to the true meaning of things. As you see, there is no target, convict, or escapee here now. We have opened our house and garden to you and have nothing to hide. Now, how else may we assist you?”

  The officer seemed to want to say something substantial but could only manage, “I’m not really sure,” before Maxie and Chloe began tugging once more on their leashes, wanting to head out a small gate that led from the garden to an open field beyond. “Looks like they’re ready to move on with the hunt,” said the officer. “I may be back, or the sheriff may need to follow up with you on all this.”

  Amida and Takara stood by the gate and watched the officer and hounds cross the open field to the northeast. Takara put her hand in Amida’s. “Your words were wise, my husband,” she said softly.

  Amida looked at her, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders before turning back to watch the officer and hounds getting smaller and smaller in the distanc
e. “My words are nothing compared to the touch of your hand,” he said, squeezing her hand a bit tighter.

  “Will they find him?” Takara asked.

  Amida thought back to the flight of birds he’d seen on the day the Dead Zone first began and of the lone bird that had not quite caught up with the flock before they all disappeared from his view over the horizon. “Hard to say,” replied Amida. “The future is like a living garden, where the smallest and almost invisible seed of faith planted today, may grow to a large and miraculous tree in the future.”

  Ninety-Five

  Three Shots

  Rebecca stood at the edge of Flat Rock, waiting for the push on her back that would send her tumbling down into the mist and rocks at the bottom of Abyss Falls. She was at peace with herself, ready to accept whatever awaited her on the other side of the dark gate. Just at that moment, Rebecca heard something behind her. It was a small noise and happened quickly, but it sounded like footsteps moving across the rock toward them. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her around the waist, and she could feel both herself and Eddie being pulled backwards together, away from the edge.

  Rebecca tumbled off the back of Flat Rock to the ground near the trail, rolling several times. When she sat up and regained her orientation, the first thing she saw was Eddie, also sitting on the ground near the other side of the rock, maybe fifteen feet away. In between them, getting up off the ground and returning to his feet, was Matthew.

  Matthew turned and looked at Rebecca. His face had traces of dried blood, and for a moment, their eyes met. His eyes were bright and clear but intense, like blue fire. Rebecca was disoriented, confused, and in disbelief.

  “Run away!” Matthew yelled to her, just as Eddie had risen to his feet and began to charge.

  Rebecca didn’t move but watched the two men tumble onto the trail and then off into the weeds and grass on the other side. Eddie was swinging wildly with his fists at Matthew’s head and stomach—Matthew returning the blows nearly punch for punch.

  The two men then scrambled to their feet and faced each other. Eddie quickly reached inside his shirt and drew his large stainless steel hunting knife, its blade flashing in the bright sun. They circled each other in a spiraling path which brought them out of the weeds and back up onto the trail.

  “I should have fuckin’ killed you when I had the chance,” Eddie hissed.

  Matthew said nothing to Eddie, but without looking back toward her, said calmly but loudly, “Rebecca, please leave!”

  “Both of you are gonna fuckin’ die!” screamed Eddie as he lunged quickly toward Matthew.

  In one lightning-fast and smooth movement, Matthew stepped out of the way of both Eddie and the knife. Eddie tumbled face first onto Flat Rock. He seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly sprang back up. He charged once more at Matthew, this time appearing ready for any deceptive movements on Matthew’s part.

  In another quick move, Matthew caught Eddie by the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted Eddie quickly around, sending him to the ground at Matthew’s feet. Matthew stood on Eddie’s arm and grabbed the knife out of his hand. He flung it far aside, and it tumbled down over the side of Flat Rock.

  Rebecca stayed where she was, sitting next to the trail in tall grass, still confused and transfixed by the sudden turn of events.

  “Give it up, Eddie,” said Matthew, still standing on his wrist as Eddie lay flat on his back across the trail.

  Eddie kicked his legs toward Matthew, and Matthew stepped back, freeing up Eddie’s wrist.

  Eddie then spun and was up on his feet again. As he rose, he reached down his pant leg, into his boot, and pulled out a second knife, only slightly smaller than the first. He pointed the knife at Matthew, and the two began their circle dance again, this time spiraling out toward the center of Flat Rock.

  “You can’t win this, Eddie,” said Matthew. “There is only death ahead for you this way.”

  Eddie said nothing, but his eyes were flames of hatred shooting out toward Matthew. Suddenly, Eddie shot out toward Matthew, and Matthew caught him once more on the wrist—but this time Eddie remained standing. Both men brought their other hands up to the knife, which was now over their heads pointing upward to the blue Colorado sky.

  The two stood chest-to-chest, arms over their heads, each gripping the knife. They were on the very edge of Flat Rock—at nearly the same exact point Rebecca had been standing only minutes before.

  Rebecca was in shock, disbelief, and now growing horror. “Matthew, get away from the edge!” she yelled.

  Matthew and Eddie remained locked chest-to-chest and eye-to-eye.

  “Eddie, you don’t have to die this way,” Matthew said, his voice straining from the locked battle of arm and shoulder strength with Eddie.

  Eddie tried to whip the knife downward and brought it almost horizontal, but Matthew quickly countered the move and brought it back up, directly over their heads. Eddie twisted his face into a half-grin, half-sneer. He began to step to the side, moving both of them even closer to the edge.

  “I’m not afraid to die, are you?” Eddie said, straining as Matthew tried to pull them away.

  Rebecca saw them take the step closer, thinking that at any moment they would surely go over. She stood up and put her hands up to the sides of her head. “Oh god, no!” she yelled.

  Just then, from behind her on the trail, she heard some voices. She turned and saw Sparky and then the sheriff a few feet behind.

  “Oh my god, do something!” she yelled to them. “Hurry!”

  Sparky and the sheriff drew their guns and ran up to where the trail met the edge of Flat Rock. “Drop the knife!” ordered the sheriff as he pointed his gun toward the two men. Eddie and Matthew remained locked in a stalemate on the opposite side of the rock—knife pointed skyward. “I said drop it! Now!” repeated the sheriff.

  “Eddie, let it go,” said Matthew, so low that only Eddie could hear. “It’s over.”

  “We’ll die together then,” Eddie hissed.

  Sparky was glancing back and forth from the sheriff to the two struggling men. He seemed confused. “Who are we aiming at?!” he asked.

  The sheriff shook his head. “You’re an ass if you have to ask that question!”

  There was then another sound from down the trail, and Rebecca turned to see two other men approaching. She only vaguely recognized one of them. Rebecca stood and ran toward Akash. “Please help!” she screamed. “They’re right on the edge!”

  A short distance down the trail was Agent Westmore, red in the face and wheezing heavily. Sparky and the sheriff glanced over at Akash and the agent, but kept their guns pointed toward the far side of Flat Rock.

  Fighting against the burning in his chest and the pounding in his head, and using a sudden influx of the last adrenaline in his body, the agent drew his pistol and ran past Akash and Rebecca, taking a position near the sheriff and Sparky, and pointing his weapon in the direction of Eddie and Matthew.

  “Do something, someone!” Rebecca screamed, trying to move closer to Flat Rock but Akash holding her back.

  “Lower the knife!” ordered the sheriff once more.

  Agent Westmore glanced at the sheriff and then back to the two men locked together like a twin statue holding the knife skyward.

  “I’m going to give you one more chance,” said the sheriff. “Lower the knife—now!”

  “Who?!” yelled Agent Westmore. “Who are you aiming for?!” The sheriff ignored him. “Deputy,” continued the agent, now looking at Sparky. “Which one are we aiming at?!”

  Sparky glanced at the agent and shook his head. He made a movement with his lips as though to say something, but no words came out.

  “We will fire on the count of three,” said the sheriff, his eyes intensely focused. “One…two…three!”

  Three shots rang out nearly simultaneously, and Rebecca screamed out—“Nooooo!”

  Both Matthew and Eddie fell away from Flat Rock, away from anything solid, tumbling over the edge
into empty space—into the mist and rocks below.

  Ninety-Six

  Release

  There was burning pain in his chest, and he was falling. A kaleidoscope of fractured images and sensations passed by—white clouds, blue sky, tumbling, rocks, more searing pain in his chest, a face—Eddie’s—contorted with pain, mist, clouds, and sky again, tumbling down…down…down…until finally…release! The kaleidoscope dissolved to white light and the sound of roaring water—the voice of Abyss Falls.

  He knew immediately he was not alone, yet it was not Eddie; Eddie was gone, somewhere now far away. He could feel the distance of that separation, as light now filled the void of darkness that had once been Eddie. There was another here though, and the other—a stranger—had joined the light and mist as well.

  The stranger called out—his voice a soft breeze mixing with the falling water. “Who are you?” asked the stranger. “This is my place! Why have you come here?!”

  “My name is Matthew,” he replied. “Don’t be afraid. I haven’t come to take this place from you.” As he said this, he knew his voice for the first time as a breeze emanating from and mixing with the falling waters.

  “Then move on!” commanded the stranger, his voice now blending with the roar of the falls. “You need to move on like the others!”

  Matthew did not reply. He recognized this man—had heard his story and read his final words many times. There was a long silence between them when only the water spoke in its own thunderous roar.

  Matthew reached out to the stranger, but the stranger recoiled. “I am ashamed of what I’ve done,” said the stranger. “I wish to be left alone—please leave.”

  “It is not my time to leave. Love binds me here, just as shame binds you,” replied Matthew.

 

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