Shadow Keeper

by M. K. Yarbrough

  I glanced around for another place to sit. Ryan Jenkins, a smart mouth little punk, pushed at my hip. “Move it, Alexander. You’re fat butt’s blocking my view.”

  A sneer covered his face, like he already knew Lisa had dumped me. He picked the wrong time to mouth off. I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and jerked him from his seat. “You’re in my spot.”

  “Hey, douche bag.” Jenkins stumbled to regain his balance. “I was sitting there.”

  “Not anymore.” I crawled into the seat and tossed his book on the floor by his feet.

  The teacher walked around her desk. “Señor Alexander. ¿Está used tiene un problema?”

  “No, Señora Hayes.” I slouched down in the seat. “Todo está bien.”

  * * *

  After the football game, I headed for Carson’s pickup. The dance was already underway in the gym and I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. Lisa wouldn’t be there, but I didn’t want to see the decorations and have memories of what might have been. Before the game had even started, Carson had confirmed with Sherry that Lisa and her mother would not be attending the football game, or the dance. That information helped me concentrate on the game instead of wondering where Lisa might’ve been sitting, but my insides still hurt at the thought we wouldn’t be together anymore.

  I’d only been in the pickup a few minutes when I spotted Carson walking through the dimly lit parking lot with another person. When he opened the driver’s door, the dome light popped on.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “This is Vanetti.”

  “I know who he is, but what’s he doing here? He’s only a sophomore. I thought we were going to the broken bridge to party.”

  “We need a driver.” He tossed Vanetti into the pickup and shoved him to the middle of the bench seat. “You’re riding bitch.”

  “You don’t have to be so pushy, man.” Vanetti straightened his shirt.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Carson jumped in the pickup and revved the engine. “If I find that you’ve even sniffed a beer bottle after I just made you the designated driver, I’ll kick the crap out of your sorry butt.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Vanetti said. “I’m not going to drink anyway. My dad is bigger than you, and if he smells alcohol on my breath, he will kick the crap out of me.”

  “What do we need a driver for? Not that I don’t want you along, Vanetti,” I added. “But I’m always the driver because I don’t drink.”

  “Not tonight, X–man. Your woman dumped you today, but you act like nothing’s wrong. You can’t keep your feelings bottled up like that or you’ll explode.”

  “You’re right.” I flopped back against the seat. “In Spanish class, I almost knocked the snot out of Jenkins just because he looked at me the wrong way.”

  “I know, man. I saw you. Of course, out on the field tonight, that anger worked in your favor. You were on fire. You ran right over those linebackers. Some of them were huge.”

  “They hit hard too.” I flexed the muscles in my back. “I’m going to feel it tomorrow.”

  “That’s why you’re going to drink a couple beers with me. You’re always the calm, quiet one. Tonight, you’re going to blow off some steam.”

  “Fine. Just don’t let me do anything stupid.”

  “You got it, X–man. I’ll always have your back.”

  Chapter Twenty–Three

  Broken bridge set about three miles outside of town in the middle of nowhere. The bridge collapsed thirty–some years ago, but the county never bothered to fix it. No one came down the road anymore because it dead ended at the creek.

  A few other kids had already beaten us there and had a fire going inside a pit ringed with rocks. With Esparto being such a small school, everyone knew everyone else and no one had a problem partying together. I set up the folding canvas chairs while Carson put the ice chest on the tailgate of his pickup.

  “Here you go, X–man.” He used a church key to pop the cap off the bottle. “You deserve the first one.”

  I grabbed the dripping wet bottle and took a swig. The beer fizzled over my tongue and slithered down my throat. My lips curled back against my teeth. “How can you drink this crap? It tastes like somebody peed in it.”

  “That’s the rumor.” Carson slouched into the chair beside me. “The beer is made in Mexico. Down there, they don’t let the workers take breaks, so they have to pee in the vat.”

  I peered through the clear glass bottle at the foaming, amber colored liquid. “I believe it. And you drink it anyway?”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  The whine of an engine caught my attention. I glanced at the headlights of a car tearing down the deserted road toward us. “That looks like Paul’s car. I thought he went to the dance with Sherry.”

  “Maybe he brought her with him.”

  My gaze went to the other party goers; all single males without a woman. “Why would he bring her here to a party of losers?”

  “Thanks, man.” His voice carried his sarcasm.

  “You’re welcome.” I clanked my bottle against his. “I’ll always have your back.”

  “Hey, Pablo,” Carson shouted as Paul climbed from the car alone. “¿Que paso, hombre?”

  Paul approached the camp area. “Looks like you started the party without me.”

  “We didn’t know you were coming.” I turned in the chair to see him better. He walked to the back of the pickup. “Where’s Sherry?”

  “We broke up. Women!” He dug a beer from the ice chest. “Said she didn’t trust me. Do you believe that crap?”

  “At least your woman had a good reason to distrust you. You cheated on her.”

  “I know.” Paul flopped into a canvas chair on the other side of me.

  His bloodshot eyes peeked out of puffy eyelids. My first guess was he’d been crying. Telling him I told you so didn’t seem like a good idea. I leaned to him and clanked my bottle to his. “Here’s to the women we love.”

  “Dude?” Paul stared at the beer bottle in my hand. “If you’re drinking, who’s going to drive?”

  “Vanetti.” I nodded across the fire to where he sat. “Carson told him he could hang with us if he’d be the driver.”

  Paul held up his beer bottle, saluting him. “You’re the man.”

  Vanetti lifted his can of soda in the air, as if invisibly clanking it to Paul’s beer.

  “Cool.” Paul leaned back and stared up at the stars.

  Carson got up and walked around the fire pit. He kicked at the end of a log sticking out of the stone circle. “Do you think this needs more wood?”

  “Feels good to me.” I leaned back in the chair, enjoying the warmth.

  “You didn’t even look at it.”

  “I saw enough. Besides, you’re not supposed to look directly at the flames. My father told me that staring into a campfire causes night blindness.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Carson said in his usual goofy way. “Well, my old man told me whacking off too much can make you go blind, but that’s never happened.”

  Paul sat up straighter in the chair. “I suppose if anybody would know, Carson, it would be you.”

  “Damn straight.” He grabbed another log and dumped it on the fire. The glowing embers of the burning logs crackled and flew into the air.

  My gaze lingered over the orange flames. There was something soothing about staring at the fire. The dancing light had a life of its own as it flickered and changed colors. The logs sizzled and the flames flared from the center of the dry wood. Smoke curled upward into the cool night air.

  The fire seemed to beckon to me. I leaned closer, my eyes unflinching as I studied the growing flame. A face appeared within the flourishing light. Two dark eyes stared back at me. The mouth opened as if to speak.

  “Wow!” I rocked back in the chair. “Did you see that?” I glanced at Carson.

  “See what?”

  “A face in the fire.”

  “Yeah, man. Right.”

/>   “No, I’m serious. I saw the face of a man in the fire. He was trying to speak to me.”

  Carson squinted at me through narrowed eyelids like I was crazy. Maybe I was. I glanced back at the fire. The face had vanished and only flames flickered within the stone circle.

  “You built this too big,” Paul said. “The cops will see it from ten miles away. Then we’ll all get busted.” He climbed out of the chair and poured beer over the fire.

  Gray smoke billowed up from the doused flames. Dark, puffy streamers swirled above the smoldering campfire and transformed into odd shapes that twined together. In a fiery flash, the form of a man unfolded from the smoky clouds like waves breaking against the rocks.

  “Holy crap!” I jerked back in the chair so hard that I toppled over backward in the dirt. I struggled to my feet and stared at the spiral of smoke transforming into a man. Something about him looked familiar. I knew this man. “Grandfather?”

  “Who are you taking to?” Paul asked.

  “That’s my grandfather.” I pointed to the man contorting within the column of smoke. The billowy gray cloud revealed his face and upper body. His long hair hung down his back and over his shoulders. A blue bandana folded into a band and wrapped around his forehead held back the gray–streaked hair from his face. His hands rose up and his arms moved like the sails on a slow moving windmill rotating and fanning the flames higher. The column elongated and the man rose from the fire. No longer part of the smoke or flames, he stood in the center of the stone circle—a man of flesh and blood although I knew he was an illusion.

  He wore the same clothing I remembered from my childhood. Although shades of black and gray, the colors appeared in my mind. Faded blue jeans, and a leather vest over a red and white plaid shirt. He motioned for me to join him by the fire. I walked closer without hesitation. He’d been dead for almost ten years, but I knew, even in death, he would not harm me.

  His hands fanned at the flames, letting the smoke bathe his body. My hands moved in a similar manner, cupping the smoke and washing my chest and arms as if I stood in the mist of a cool waterfall. His hands reached skyward. His mouth opened and a humming noise rumbled in his throat. He chanted in a dialect I didn’t understand, but knew its meaning. He called to the spirit who had power over every living thing and asked a blessing be bestowed upon me.

  His head bowed, his body hunched forward, and he leapt from the center of the flames. With his arms spread outward like a giant gray eagle, he swooped around the campfire and danced in a slow, rhythmic motion.

  Somewhere in my mind played the slow beat of a drum and the jangle of bells. My feet moved with his, and we both danced in circles around the campfire, singing and chanting like ancient warriors speaking a forgotten tongue.

  He bent lower until he came to rest on his knees in the dirt. I knelt in front of him. “Grandfather.”

  “Yes, it is I, young warrior.”

  Too many years had passed since I last heard the nickname he used for me. His words warmed me. “How can this be?”

  “I heard you calling to me.”

  I shook my head in denial. “I never called you.”

  “Your cries of pain reached my ears. Your words, like dew on an eagle’s back, rose up to me. You have many questions. Only when you receive the answers will you grow as a man, but I can only answer one. What council do you seek from me?”

  So many questions swirled in my mind that I couldn’t think straight. Thoughts of the nightmares that plagued me and the horrible memories of my father’s death mingled in my skull, along with plans for the future and my feelings for Lisa.

  But how could I move forward until I knew where I’d been. My mother’s secrets tore at my sanity. She kept so many things about the past hidden from me. I needed answers, but Grandfather would only give me one.

  My father’s death still tormented me even after six years. But was his death as important as how he lived? I remembered him as a father, but not as a man. I didn’t know what killed him, but I knew how he died—with courage, protecting the ones he loved. In his death, I understood him as a man.

  Grandfather came to me in the smoke, but my father was always with me in my heart. I put my hand to my chest, expecting a dual beating against my palm, but instead I touched something else: the raised flesh of the burn on my skin.

  Memories stirred inside my mind. I glanced at Grandfather and noticed the rawhide cord tied around his neck. A silver medallion dangled from it and touched below the hollow in his throat. I grabbed my shirt with both hands and ripped the front gripper snaps apart. My fingers traced the outline of the mark on my bare chest. “This scar is the same as the medallion you wear. I know you put it on me. What does it mean?”

  “Wise choice, young warrior. Yes, I put the symbol on your chest, but it was not my intention to burn the image onto your body. You were a young child, perhaps two years old. There was a fire in the house. I wrapped a wet blanket around my body and dashed through the flames to find you. The smoke was thick. I had to crawl on my hands and knees in my search.” His hand swept across the medallion. “This hung away from my body and absorbed the intense heat of the fire. When I found you, I gathered you up and held you tightly against me. Not until I had you outside and safely in your mother’s arms did I realize the heated metal had burned into your skin. As you grew, so grew the branded symbol on your chest.”

  “What is its meaning?”

  Smoke swished around Grandfather as he moved his arm. He pressed his hand to the medallion tied at his throat. This is a symbol of the sun. It holds the power of light over darkness. To the possessor, the medallion gives strength to overcome evil.”

  “What do the markings on it mean?”

  “The circle in the center represents the sun. The four long points reaching outward are the rays emanating from the sun and represent the seasons of the earth. The shorter points are feathers blown by the four winds. The other points represent smoke and the four wisdoms.

  “And what are the four wisdoms?” I asked.

  “That is for you to discover.”

  “Then I’ll never learn them.” I looked down at my hands resting on my thighs so Grandfather wouldn’t see my shame. “I used to think I was intelligent, but I feel so stupid now. All I know is what I’ve read in books.”

  “Ah, but you are wise, young warrior. You see with your mind and feel with your heart.”

  “I don’t feel wise, only confused.”

  “You have yet to read from the book that will bring you wisdom for the path you must choose.”

  I wondered why Grandfather put such value in books. He was one of the smartest men I’d ever known, but as I recalled, he could barely write his name. “From what book should I read?”

  “Your father’s book. The one he left for you.”

  I shook my head. “He left me nothing.”

  “John Tall Alexander left you many gifts, but you must seek them out.”

  “Where should I look for them?” My forehead wrinkled while I thought.

  “You already know the answer.” Grandfather rose, but not as a man. He transformed into smoke and swirled above the ground. A breeze caught the billowing cloud that was a moment ago my grandfather. The smoke curled around my body before lifting skyward. The last puff lingered in the treetops.

  “Grandfather,” I called out. “Will I ever see you again?”

  “On your journey, young warrior, our paths will cross many times.”

  Staggering to my feet, I thrust my fingers through my hair, hoping to clear my mind. My legs wobbled under the weight. I stumbled to the canvas chair and collapsed into it. When I looked up, Carson and Paul stood in front of me.

  “X–man,” Carson said. “That is the last time I give you a beer.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You were acting crazy, man. Singing and dancing around the fire like some Indian brave doing a war dance.”

  “It was a war dance. I was fighting for my birth right. And m
y destiny.”

  Chapter Twenty–Four

  “That’s the one, Vanetti.” I pointed to the blue house trimmed in white on my side of the street. “You can let me out here.”

  Instead of pulling to the curb, Vanetti steered Paul’s compact car into the driveway behind the orange Hummer. “Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked when I opened the car door.

  “No, thanks.” Telling Lisa what I thought of her wild accusations wouldn’t take long, but when I finished, I’d want to be alone. “I’ll walk over to Paul’s house and hang with his dad until the party’s over.”