Plane of the Godless

by Peter Hartz

  The form and figure looking back at her looked like a supermodel. Or maybe an Olympic athlete, like she always planned to be in college, and almost was in high school before the accident. The extra weight that she always wanted to lose was nowhere in sight. What she saw was toned, defined muscle under smooth, flawless skin. She looked at the back of her left hand, and that surgical scar was gone as well, where the cyst had been removed some years back. Or the winding scars on her legs where that dang horse had thrown her off onto the barbed wire fence. The almost-faded scar on the right side of her forehead where her little brother had hit her with the toy truck that required eleven stitches when she was nine. Every bit of skin she could see was perfect and flawless, without scars, nicks, pock marks, age marks, wounds, blemishes, moles, or any imperfections at all. An almost hysterical part of her mind threatened to giggle when the thought came to her: she looked touched up, like a digital photograph after someone spent hours in Photoshop or something. But it was real, she realized in wonder. Even her breasts were smaller and perfect, without that middle-aged sag that she’d come to accept. She looked like a teenager again. But she was forty-seven, she reminded herself. Wasn’t she? Incredible.

  She wasn’t sure how long she looked at herself before turning away, turning her mind away from the impossible to the practical. She had started the day probably fifty pounds heavier. Which meant that there was nothing in the entire cottage that would fit her now, except the robe hanging in the bathroom. It quickly served to cover her up, and the giddy hysteria seemed to bubble back up inside again, threatening to come out as she realized that it almost wrapped around her twice and covered her down to above her ankles.

  With the requirements of modesty and decency met, she walked quietly out of her bedroom, down to the guest room where she assured herself her guest was still sleeping as she placed the cloak over the back of the chair. Then she walked out into the main room of the luxurious cottage. She looked around, and felt a sudden need to sit on out on the porch as a silent whisper of faint memory from last night came to her, and in discomfort, hurried out the front door, closing it quietly, and settled into a chair back away from the light near the door. Dave would be here later this morning. He would know what to do, if anyone did.

  But deep inside in the silent reaches of her soul, she doubted that things would ever be the same again. What had happened? And what was going to happen to her and everyone that depended on her because of it? No answers came to her, and she stared off into the night, deeply troubled.

  Chapter 4

  Dave pulled off the main road and onto the dirt path, where he stopped and got out to open the gate, worried about his older sister. He hadn’t slept well at all last night, which wasn’t like him. He woke up several times to bad dreams, first of someone torturing first Michelle, then moving on to him, while he was powerless to stop it. He finally woke up at just after five in the morning, and decided to get an early start on the two hour trip to the cottage to bring her dogs up for her week away. He continued on up the path, leaving the gate open as he usually did when he visited the cottage. When it was just her, he insisted she close the gate, however.

  Dave adored Michelle, and was so worried about her health lately. He knew Michelle hadn’t been honest with him when she said she was fine, but couldn’t bring himself to push her for the truth. Too many years looking up to her, first as his big sister, then as a survivor of that horrible accident the summer she graduated from high school, and on to everything else leading up to her role as his boss. She went through so many reconstructive surgeries because of that drunken truck driver who had also smoked a lot of weed that morning all those years ago. Then she spent months in physical therapy, telling everyone she was fine in that same tone of voice she always used when he thought she was trying to convince herself the most. It all had taken its toll on her, but she survived, and even recovered. She learned to walk again, then to run. And had never stopped since.

  And through it all, came an inner strength that was incredible, awesome to behold. By sheer force of will, she could accomplish the impossible. And she set out to prove it by putting herself through college, saving every time she could everywhere.

  Then after she graduated with top honors with an MBA from Carlson School of Management at the University of Minnesota, she moved on to become a business woman. She started her own company with the settlement money from the accident, and made it successful. She grew it through careful decisions and well-planned strategic acquisitions, both here in the States and two in the UK, but underneath it all, it was still the same data services company that was well led and managed, just larger. She had even hired him after he completed his time in the Marine Corps and gone to school on the GI Bill for a Masters’ Degree in Data Security. In the last few years, she had hired a few experienced upper managers to delegate more and more of the day to day operations to, and slowly began to step back, telling others she wanted to enjoy life while she was still young.

  But when her health began to change, and the obvious changes to her appearance got worse in the last six months, he had overcome that younger-brother awe enough to ask her what was going on. And when she told him it was nothing to worry about, she knew he saw the lie in what she said. He had heard it enough in the long months of recovery. But her eyes begged him not to push it, and he hadn’t. Not with her.

  He did, however, have a long conversation with one of her doctors, in the best interests of her company. Dave was Michelle’s Medical Power Of Attorney, as well as a member of her immediate family and part owner of the same firm she started up, and the doctor had spilled the beans. He cared too much for his patient and longtime friend, not to mention her whole family, to hold out for long.

  Cervical cancer. Third stage. It had spread, metastasizing into her lungs and elsewhere. Inoperable for the most part. It was moving really slowly, however, and was responding to the latest in chemotherapy. The odds were better than fifty-fifty that she would recover. After surgery had yanked out another bunch of parts of her she no longer needed where the cancer had started, and radiation treatments had their way with others, of course.

  He knew that the odds were not that great. But he still let it go. Especially when he noticed her quiet planning taking effect to transition more and more of her duties and responsibilities to trusted associates and subordinates. He would be there for her, as any good brother would, no matter what. And in any capacity she wanted. She deserved that from him.

  But the dreams last night had left him nearly terrified. There had never been even so much as a hint of threat against her recently. Everyone she worked with respected her greatly, because she did so much to help other succeed. Sure, there was the usual whack-job that threatened anyone, especially a woman, in a powerful position, but nothing recent came to mind.

  Her health had made him want to take care of her, so after some careful searching, he put in a purchase offer on a luxury cottage in the woods, a place out of the way and mostly off the grid that she could use as a refuge when she needed a break.

  He had been prepared to pay for it out of his share of the fortune from the success of the company, but she hadn’t argued, and signed the expense approval herself before he presented it to the CFO and the board. She was hard-headed, but eminently pragmatic. And she trusted her brother. If he said she needed some place to get away to, she didn’t argue. Too many other issues and tasks, that she could do something about, needed her attention to fight over something so important to him.

  But if something happened to her at the cottage that supposedly only the most trusted family members knew about, then there was a problem. No one else outside the inner circle even knew that it existed, let alone where it was. Which spoke volumes.

  He had pulled off the secluded highway onto the private, curving, heavily shrouded road in the early morning light. Then he glanced once more in his rear-view mirror as he pulled away. The road behind him wound back and forth beyond the gate, and at this point he couldn�
��t even see the highway. Which is how he wanted it when he set out to find this place for her.

  The trip up the secluded, winding driveway seemed to take forever, and he wanted to go faster, but it was narrow, and he wouldn’t do anyone any good if he hit something, like one of the huge pines growing right next to the dirt path. It was also not in the best condition, either, he reflected as he slowed down close to the end of the drive. He came around the last turn into the clearing where the cottage had been built, where he saw a big black Suburban parked right next to the front porch.

  He pulled in and stopped behind the SUV, deliberately blocking it in, and a chill ran down his spine as he took it in. No license plate, with a temporary tag in the back window the only proof that it was registered to someone. Dark tinted windows. Nothing else on it identified where it came from. It certainly didn’t belong here. He would have to check the VIN with accounting to see if it belonged to the company or not. But that could wait until later.

  He glanced across the clearing to the garage, and saw his sister’s expensive Italian sedan inside through the open garage door where it should be. His mind touched briefly on the memory of when she leased it just a month before, but then he returned to the task at hand. He eased open the door on his as quietly as he could, and carefully pulled out the heavy Glock pistol from the shoulder holster inside the light jacket he always wore when carrying. Then he stepped as silently as he could around the Suburban, to make sure it was empty. He opened the front passenger door, and noticed the keys were in the ignition. Closing that, he pulled the back passenger door open as silently as he could, and covered and cleared the inside of the big vehicle. Nothing appeared in the shape of a person, or big enough to hide one, and he turned, pushing the door shut slowly, and crept up to the stairs, glad that the builders had done such a fine job of putting the whole cottage and porch together that he was able to make almost no noise. Then at the top of the steps, he heard something.

  It was quiet, and barely carried to him, but he heard it clearly: the sound of a woman clearing her throat; almost an “eh-hem”. He turned towards the source of the sound, half raising the pistol, but not pointing it at anything yet, and saw someone sitting on a chair close to the house, back in the early morning shadows.

  “You’re not gonna need that, Davey D. Seriously.” Her voice carried to him clearly, even though it was an almost-whisper.

  “Why’s that? Who are you? Where’s my sister? I see her car. Where is she?” he said, his voice almost as quiet. He didn’t change his ready stance, just turned to face her more completely. He was confused. Who was she? The voice tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t place it. It was like he had heard it once, a long time ago.

  “Things are so strange, Davey D. I don’t know what has happened. And I have no idea what to do next.” The quiet voice came to him again, and he paused. Only his sister ever called him that, and only when she was trying to send a message to him that only he would hear. No one else even knew about the nickname anymore. But the voice didn’t match anyone he currently knew. He just couldn’t place it.

  “Who are you? Where’s…” He paused as she stood, and he could see her a little better as she stepped slowly forward. She was wearing… what? Just a robe, wrapped and belted around herself? He thought he recognized it from the cottage. What in God’s name is going on here?!? Then she slowly stood and walked towards him, both hands cautiously out away from her sides.

  “Don’t wanna get shot, Davey D. But things are strange, so let’s both take it slow, ok?” She stepped fully into the early morning light, and he stared at her face, trying to remember where he’d…

  “Oh my GOD!! Michelle? Wha..?” He gasped, as he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She looked like she was eighteen years old again! Or…

  “Something happened to me last night. Something…” she broke off as a sob came over her, and her face crumpled as emotion overwhelmed even her formidable self-control at last. Davey holstered the weapon as fast as he could, then reached out to wrap her in his arms, and he simply held her as she collapsed into his arms and cried.

  ◆◆◆

  It had been a strange hour for him, Dave reflected. Not as strange as what his sister had gone through, though. She’s shown him where every scar had been before on her face, neck, arms, legs, back, and any other place she could while maintaining her modesty, and he still couldn’t believe it. Only the fact that he had grown up with that face had enabled him to believe her. Then she told him what she could remember happened to her in the woods, and cried again in his arms. He felt powerless to ease her pain as she shook and sobbed, but then the storm passed. She described the stranger she had awoken to, and the strange clothing he had been wearing. The archaic cloak she had been wearing when she woke up that had obviously come from him, the tunic, the pants, the boots. The belt, with the pouches on it, and the weapons. The jewelry: rings, bracelets, a necklace with a stone of some kind that seemed to glow when you saw it out of the corner of your eye. He looked at her in disbelief, but followed her to the guest room door and peeked in on the man sleeping there. She went in further, and checked his breathing, then shook her head as she came out and closed the door part way again, as if in disbelief herself.

  Then they had sat in the family room down the hall from the guest room, across from the kitchen, and talked for another hour. He eventually learned that she was wearing the oversized robe because nothing fit her anymore. She had lost every bit of extra weight she had, and didn’t have anything remotely close to her size in the cottage. Her skin was a perfect, flawless olive, reflecting their half-Italian ancestry, and her hair seemed to glow as well. Then she carefully lifted her legs, and he received another shock. More hair. He knew that she had gone and had most of her body hair permanently removed at a laser skin clinic when she had the chance and the money. Better than shaving, she’d said at the time. But it had grown back that night. Then he pointed out that her chipped tooth seemed to have been fixed as well, and she hurried to the hall mirror to see, and made another discovery.

  Her teeth were… different. She opened her mouth, and the bridgework and reconstruction of her teeth and mouth on the right side had disappeared – in its place were real teeth. The whitening she had done seemed to have been altered. They were now more of a natural ivory, no longer the pure white she had been so proud of. And every filling in her mouth seemed to have disappeared, along with the chip that had been there on the upper front tooth, a souvenir from slipping while climbing over a chain link fence when she was eleven. Her teeth were… perfectly natural, along with everything else about her.

  She’d come back to the couch with a stunned expression on her face. “What could do this to me? This is almost like a dream or something!” The shock and awe in her voice was almost amusing to him, and he let her think about it for a while.

  “Hey, where’s Sadie and Abby? You brought them with when you came up here, right?” Her gaze turned on him almost like an interrogation. He stayed at her house sometimes when she was away so that her furry companions could be cared for. She strongly disliked the thought of leaving them at a kennel in the care of someone she didn’t know.

  “Crap. I forgot. They’re out in the 4Runner. Want me to bring them in?” He leaned forward on the couch to stand, and she nodded.

  “I really need them. Can you go get them for me?” She asked in a voice that was small and vulnerable as she looked at him. His heart melted as he looked at her, trying to understand everything she was going through, and failing completely.

  He stood, bent over her and gave her a quick hug, then walked softly across the polished hardwood floor to the door. Whatever had happened to her, Dave reflected as he walked down the steps outside and went over to the SUV he came in, had thrown her life completely upside down. Now what the hell did she, and he, do about it? Would things be the same? He opened the back door to his vehicle and reached in to lift the little dog Abby into his arms, then held her in one arm as he gave Sadie�
��s leash a gentle tug, then unclipped it. The bigger dog, still lean and beautiful in her red cedar-colored coat and white paws and tip of her tail, looked up at him and thumped her tail from her spot on the back seat of the midsize vehicle. But she didn’t get up, and he smiled almost sadly. Sadie had been trained so well. But she was showing her age. The grey on the muzzle, and the mellowing as she slowed down a little more each year. She was approaching ten years old now; probably a senior citizen for a lean, athletic, once-graceful sixty-pound Labrador/Golden Retriever/surprise mix.

  “Sadie, come. Let’s go, girl. Michelle is here.” Sadie stood at the command, stretched her front and back legs one at a time to her full length as best she could in the vehicle, then hopped slowly and carefully out to the ground.

  Abby wriggled in his arms briefly, trying to get down, so he set her on her paws, and she shook all seventeen pounds of herself before strutting over to the side on the grass and relieving herself. Sadie followed suit, and soon enough they both loped up the steps to wait beside the long-familiar door, looking back at him as he came up behind them.

  “Wait,” he said as he opened the door, and they both sat and waited until he had stepped through, just like they had been trained to do by Michelle. He held the door open and said quietly “all done”, and they ran in past him.