Pillars of the Moon

by French, B. J. ;

  "Wow!" was all that Peter could muster as we edged toward the car.

  "Is it going to run?" asked Shawna in a low tone as if to reflect my loss.

  "It better."

  Luckily, the keyholes were undamaged and I was able to insert the key and open the passenger door. The interior was fine apart from the blood stained blanket Peter had been sitting on. Handing the garbage bag to Shawna, I reached in to the rear and moved Shawna’s large purse she had placed in the back. Grabbing the blanket and rolling it up in a ball before Peter had a chance to see, I reached over and pulled the narrow door lock up on the driver’s side and eased myself back out of the car. Grabbing the garbage bag again, I returned to the rear and dropped the blanket on the ground. Shawna was struggling with Peter to get him into the rear seat and finally decided it best to put him in the front. Opening the trunk, I straightened a few things and placed the garbage bag gently down wrapped with my old sleeping bag, my overnight bag propped on top kept it secure. Closing the lid, I bent down and grabbed the flap of the remaining bumper guard and yanked it free. Wrapping the guard in the bloodied blanket, I found a small cleft amongst the scattered logs and tucked the blanket far up into the crevice out of sight. With Shawna squeezed into the back, and Peter now in the front with me, we started off once again to downtown Victoria with the hopes of seeing my sister, not the jaguar men.

  The weather was trying to clear as we cruised down the coast road toward downtown. The fog was being nudged away by a cool south easterly, blowing up the straight. The distant mountains on mainland Washington, were hardly visible with a haze of mist hanging below the snow-capped peaks like a bib below a baby’s chin. The waters of the distant inlets below sparkled brightly between the intervals of lichen-covered boughs that harbored remnants of the morning fog. The pungent, damp, aromatic smell of the upper tidal zone drifted throughout and helped to clear the haze my head. The tour was solemn as it became more evident that Peter had not recovered to any great degree. I had not witnessed the beating that he had taken in the alley, but it must have been severe. A severe blow in the right area could rupture a spleen, or bruise a kidney; it could be quite agonizing. I could see his face was draining of color again.

  "We’d better take Peter to the hospital as soon as possible. Even if the goons spot us, we’ll have to get him there and handle the situation as best we can. If need be, we will go to the police."

  "No police!" Peter grunted, leaning against the glass on the passenger’s side.

  The drive down Cadboro Bay Road was much like the scene out of a movie, three individuals in a beat-up black sedan, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible and yet sticking out like a painted lady on a Friday night.

  I waited patiently in the car as the two of them started up the ramp to the ‘Emerge’. Uneasy with our predicament, I scanned the area every few minutes to ease the uncertainty. Hoping the goons of the previous night were nowhere near, I began to realize how absurd and out of control everything had become. My life had always had its dips and spins, but this had taken the cake. Since being run down at the museum a few days ago, it was if a switch had been turned on to start the chain of events and decisions that had brought me to this, near macabre. My skin grew cold and clammy as I sat there forcing myself to stay awake. Taking a few minutes to lean my head on the glass of the side window, I became mesmerized by the moisture collecting into droplets on the exterior of the window glass. From a distance, I began to hear a voice calling my name but I was too tired to lift my head. Again, I heard my name and tried to lift my head but couldn't. A jolt in the arm brought me back with Shawna sitting besides glaring at me,

  "Get going!!!"

  Through the streaks in the window screen, I could see a black sedan in the distance that was sitting idle just around the corner. Taking a second look, I could not see any distinguishing figures in the car. Cautiously pulling the car from the curb, I checked to see that there was no movement to be seen any where on the street and continued downtown.

  "What did they say about Peter?"

  "Well, from what I gather, he is passing a bit of blood so his kidneys were hit last night. They did some blood work, but I couldn't wait around any longer."

  "They’ll probably make him drink a gallon of this real awful clear fluid and make him hold his pee for several hours."

  I couldn't help but smile thinking about the occasion for my barium baptism. I do not envy him at all.

  "At least he is in good hands for now."

  Continuing down Pandora, the day began to spring to life with cars starting to appear as Monday morning work traffic began. The roads were drying from the night’s rain, with steam rising as the sun warmed the pavement.

  "We have to locate Rose and Steve, my sister and brother-in-law. They will be able to suggest some alternatives for you and perhaps even get you across the straight. I don't think there is a ferry till later in the morning."

  Heading down Cook Street toward the shore, we veered off to the right down Collinson, along the northern tip of Beaconsfield Park. Crossing to Superior, we slowed down to find a parking spot. The streets were still relatively empty of traffic so we were able to find a good place to park within walking distance of the harbour. Pulling the green garbage bag from the trunk, I pushed my overnight bag toward Shawna,

  "Carry this."

  "Excuse me!" she replied.

  "Please, carry that." I rephrased. "You will appreciate it if we have to make a run for it, my bag is lighter.

  With a twisted look on her face, she clutched the bag to her chest and led the way as we headed through the back alleys and parking lots to the waterfront. Passing the promenade of hotels, and bed and breakfasts, we cautiously crossed the street just in front of the ferry terminal. Clearing the small Aquarium, with the Inner Harbour exposed, I could make out the profile of Steve’s twenty-seven foot boat toward the center of the floating maze of docks and wooden walkways.

  "Wait a minute Shawna." I cautioned, grabbing her by the arm. "You should wait here out of sight for a little while. Let’s put you over there in one of the restaurants while I go see what their plans are. We don't want to jump in unless we are welcome."

  With Shawna settled at a table in a small cafe, the green bag by her feet, I jogged across the street with my overnight bag over my shoulder and down the concrete steps beside the Aquarium to the boardwalk. Continuing down the central floating walkway, I finally reached the small blue and white single mast craft named Eventide. The ventilation hatches were open and the sounds of clanging dishes could be heard within.

  "Hello down there!” I announced through the open hatch. “Rose! Steve!"

  "Hey Bri, we've been expecting yah."

  Bounding out from the wooden hatch, came that all-so-familiar sight of a heavyset man with a bush of brown wavy hair stuffed under a baseball cap. Steve’s beaming sunburned face looked over to me as he straddled one of the wooden slat benches opposite from where I leaned. Immediately after him came a shock of Rose’s wind-blown hair dancing in wisps escaping from the mass stuffed up in a makeshift bun. Rose edged up out of the berth with two cups in her hands.

  "Coffee?” she smiled.

  "Thanks. Could you take this Steve?" handing him my bag. He lightly tossed it on the deck under the bench and stretched his legs across to the seat at the transom beside the rudder arm.

  "Vanessa told us that you had called last night when we phoned. We were just on the other side of Salt Spring Island before dusk and got in about eight last night.

  "You look like you went moose hunting and got run over by the moose." Steve piped when Rose had finished. "You've been workin' too hard again. But then again so you should."

  "Yah, right" I returned jokingly.

  Rose looked directly at me; "You look so god awful."

  "Well," I started, climbing in the stern and getting seated. "A lot has happened over the last two days and it looks like there is a lot more to come. I wish I could explai
n it all to you right now but there is no time. I have to get a friend over to Port Angles as soon as possible and the ferry is not leaving for at least three hours."

  "Steve looked over to me, "And you expect us to take you."

  "Well not exactly." I continued taking quickly scanning the area about us. "I'm not sure how we are going to get there yet. We are being followed.

  "By who," Rose asked, a little perturbed?

  "The same guys that almost killed us last night."

  "What! You were almost killed last night?"

  "When Marese and I came out of the museum last night, we saw a guy being beaten up in an alleyway. It turns out it was the same guy that ran into me at the museum. Remember?" I questioned, looking at Rose and pointing to my cheek. "I ran over to give the guy a hand, not knowing who it was, and the hit men, or who ever they were, shot this guy and took off. They later came after us when we took Peter, the guy’s name, to friends for help."

  "Is he alright? Where is Marese?" Rose’s voice was beginning to go to a higher pitch as she realized the danger.

  "He is alright. At least I think so, and Marese is at her parents’." Sensing my sister’s concern, "I didn't drag her into any of this. I put her in a taxi as soon as we were free."

  She sat down beside Steve and looked into her coffee cup.

  "Look! I do not have much time before I have to leave. I have to figure out a way to get us out of the harbour without being seen."

  "We'll help yah Bri," offered Steve. "If it is as important as you say, then we'll help. This is what we could do."

  After about ten minutes of discussion and a second cup of coffee, I headed back toward the restaurant. Casting off the moorings, Rose headed off in the other direction on foot. Steve was preparing to set sail.

  Shawna was sitting as I had left her, behind the table with a flask of coffee empty and open on the table, green garbage bag at her feet.

  "I have a way for us to get across. It may be a little slow but we will get there. Of that I am sure."

  "Good. How soon do we leave?"

  "We will have to wait a few minutes while my sister gets a few things ready."

  "Why? What has she got to do?"

  "Be patient. Everything should work out fine as long as we don't get caught."

  After we had sat for the better part of a half hour, I finally saw my sister in a large motorboat with twin outboards come wheeling into the harbour rocking the sleepy flotilla as she passed by.

  "Come on. Let’s go!"

  Shawna grabbed the bag from the floor as I leafed through my wallet for a fiver to leave on the table. Tossing it as I stood, we scurried out the door, down the steps and raced to cross the road. Taking a quick glance right and then left, I got a flash of a white collar and a pair of sunglasses peering at us from beside a black sedan. At second glance, I recognized who it was. The fellow in the alley, whom I had flattened, was now in a neck brace.

  "Great!" I screamed under my breath. Grabbing Shawna by the arm tightly, I pulled her along toward the concrete steps down to the boardwalk.

  "Don't turn around. We have company.”

  Hopping down the steps two by two, without looking back, we quickly shuffled along the walk in front of the brick wall to the central walkway, the Empress Hotel towering high in the background.

  'Ping'

  "What was that?"

  Another few seconds and I heard a loud whiz and a pop with wood splintering at our feet.

  "They're shooting at us! Run!"

  Pulling Shawna as hard as I could, we had made it half way down the walkway when Shawna tripped on a cleat and went flying, almost landing in the water. The green bag and her purse went flying through the air landing a few feet from us. Stopping as fast as I could to help her to her feet, I heard another whiz and a ka-thunk as another bullet came close and hit the water spraying us. Now, only twenty feet from Rose in the boat, and the green bag lying just several feet behind us, there was another whiz and a crack as wood splintered between us. Frozen, not sure which way to go, my heart pounded in my ears, my throat almost closed from the tension, I looked to the bag, and then to Rose and back to the bag. Shawna stretched out her hand toward the bag just as another bullet hit in the same spot. The rifleman had found his mark and was letting us know that the next bullet would be for one of us. Pulling Shawna away from the bag, I took a quick glance over to the ferry terminal and the trees that hedged its’ walkway. Well camouflage and almost undetectable was the marksman. Still holding his silenced rifle, he knelt unmoving waiting for his next target. Sensing our defeat, I tugged Shawna by the arm and pulled her to the boat, Rose nervously waited to whisk us away. Defeated, but alive, we slowly toured out of the harbour toward open water and watched as they raced down to the walkway to the green bag. Carefully unraveling the wrappings, they pulled out the box and threw the small, wooden crate, along with all my shaving gear into the water.

  "Damn. I liked that razor."

  "You'd better step on it, Rose, they're really pissed now."

  The last we saw as we rounded the spit to the break-wall was several of the guys running from boat to boat trying to persuade their unwilling owners to muster for a quick trip.

  As we rounded the corner out of sight of the main harbour, Steve waved us over to where he was anchored just in the lee of the break-wall before the open water. Shawna threw a line to him while he desperately placed some bumpers along the starboard side of the craft. Steve held the line tight as we leapt onto the boat, and releasing it, slowly left Rose behind. With a wave of her hand and a kiss in Steve’s direction, she pushed the throttle to full. She sped around the corner and up the southern coast, her mane of red hair flowing behind her. Sydney Harbors a good twenty minutes away and a fair jaunt for any able seaman in a sailboat. Without a doubt she will have no problem evading them should they follow.

  Steve pulled anchor and we edged our way around Lighthouse Point distancing us from the break-wall. Sure enough, a few short minutes later, with Rose almost out of sight, an old wooden cabin cruiser came out of the harbour. Radio aerial swaying high in the air, the boat oscillated and labored to crest the growing waves of the open straight. Shawna and I waited out of sight in the hold wondering whether the ruse would be successful. Once they were by and well out of range, we clambered out from below to watched with glee as they labored to navigate the turbulent seas. The cruiser slowly made its' way up the coast and out of range while we edged further out into the open strait.

  "Well, we did it." I sighed, giving Shawna a hug around the shoulders.

  Shawna not so pleased did not respond to my embrace. She had not noticed my plastic shaving kit floating on the water as we pulled away from the harbour, or heard my sorrow for the passing of a good and faithful friend.

  "Come here, I want to show you something."

  Taking her hand, I led her to sit down on the stern bench, back to the bulwark, and reached below to my overnight bag. I slowly unzipped the black bag and handed it to her. On top was my camera, and beneath wrapped in the old oily rag she was familiar with was the article she had sworn to protect and deliver. Exposing the Styrofoam that protected the bowl, a smile came to her face as she realized what I had done. Without saying a word, she sat quietly and held the bag by the handles and let it dangle between her knees.

  I watched without saying a word as tears slowly slid the length of her nose and on to the wooden slats of the deck, "You know Brian, last night when you described the old man’s face in your dream, I knew who you had seen. I was not all that sure what to make of you and your involvement and did not trust. This is difficult for us as no white man has ever been involved with the things that you have seen. The man you saw was a kachina, a guide from our clan, part of our holy ceremony. Even I have not seen all things and been a part of the full ceremony of the kiva. But now I know. You have been chosen."

  "Chosen for what," I asked with a half chuckle? She said nothing. "Please Shawna;
I am trying to make some kind of sense of it all. I did not ask for any of this."

  "It appears you have had no choice."

  "What do you mean?”

  Without a word she sat expressionless and looked at me. The look in her dark eyes at first startled me’ but slowly began to soften my turbulent mind. I noticed a sparkle of appreciation.

  Steve, getting a little anxious, began to ready the rigging for full sail.

  "Come on, Bri, we’d better get under sail. It looks a little rough."

  "Got any Gravol?" I yelled as I slid the rudder arm under my elbow against my ribs.

  "Sure, down below."

  Shawna nodded to me and disappeared back down into the hold, emerging a few minutes later with some floater jackets and the much-needed Gravol.

  "I just hope it isn't too late." I yelled in Steve’s direction.

  Steve unraveled the main sail and headed forward. Zipping up my jacket tight, I pulled my toque down snug over my ears and watched as Shawna slipped into her jacket. I noticed a bit of attitude as she prepared herself, but saw a lot of confidence. Overhearing one of her conversations with Peter that she had been with Makah elders, I wondered at that point whether she was indeed Makah, I had presumed she was Haida. If so, we had with us the embodied ancestry of the world’s most proficient West Coast whalers and sea fairing peoples that this continent has ever known. We had little to fear should the spirits of her ancestors be guiding us this day. She disappeared with the bag down the hatch, closing it behind her. I tied myself down and within seconds we were bouncing with the rolling waves. Spray, arching high over the bow as we crashed down into the oncoming swells, hit me hard in the face. Steve, after tightening everything down, came to my side and grabbed the rudder arm and took over. I watched, amazed as he looked straight into the wind and spray, wet curls of hair streaking back from his tightly secured hood. After ten minutes of steady rolling, I could feel the sensation of lead in my belly and felt the color slowly drain from my face. My tongue got thick and my mouth dry and I knew 'this was not going to be easy'. I stood up for a moment but realized the boom would be swinging soon from the tack, so I sat down again. Keeping my eyes focused on the distant shore, I was determined not to throw up. I began to feel better as I concentrated on the horizon and the distant mountains of the Olympic Range. As I looked back at Steve, he smiled and I could tell he was having the time of his life. With my stomach temporarily in control, I began to think of my will and last testament and whether I had made everything clear enough. I began to pray that if I made it through all this, I would settle down and get married. After a few more moments my jaw went slack and I knew this was it. Over the side I leaned.