Greshmere

by Scott Wittenburg

  “That’s an understatement. Especially now that I’ve come this far. Here I am, at the very source of the vision I had. That’s amazing in itself. But I thought this would do it—that it would answer my questions. But it hasn’t and that’s a huge letdown. Yet, I realize that I have to keep trying. And checking out those names in the tree is about all I have to work with, it appears.”

  “Why don’t you stay the night with us at the colony? That way you can get a fresh start tomorrow.”

  “That would be great, Mitzy. Thanks.”

  “No prob. Do you want to look around some more before we go back?”

  “Nah. I think I need to get away from all of this and collect my thoughts. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have a more positive outlook.”

  “There you go! Think you know your way back to the colony?”

  “Maybe, why?”

  “Because the last one there is a rotten egg!”

  And with that, Mitzy flew off. It only took Greshmere a second to chase after her.

  Chapter 12

  -Then-

  Daniel swept Megan up into his arms in dramatic fashion and managed to get the key in without missing a beat. He unlocked the door, kicked it open and carried his new bride over the threshold of their Clintonville home.

  He had been looking forward to this moment for what seemed like a lifetime.

  He kissed her long and hard, her lips as soft and luscious as ever, their passion never stronger. When it was over, Megan looked up at him with her big beautiful brown eyes and smiled broadly.

  “I love you so much!”

  “I love you so much and more, Mrs. Kendall!” Daniel replied.

  “Not possible, Mr. Kendall. But you may keep on telling yourself that, if you insist.”

  “I insist.”

  They kissed again, sealing the pact. He gently lowered Megan to her feet and took her by the hand.

  “Could I interest you in a drink, Mrs. Kendall?”

  “Certainly, what’s another drink among consenting, married adults?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “Shall we change first?” Megan said. “As much as I love my wedding gown, I’m going to love it every bit as much once it’s off of me. And these shoes are killing me!”

  “I would be lying if I told you that I’ve somehow become attached to this tux. I mean seriously, could they make these things any more impractical?”

  Megan laughed as the couple headed for the bedroom to change.

  In the kitchen, Daniel poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to Megan.

  “I propose a toast,” he said. “To the most beautiful woman in the world who has made me the happiest man in the world. May we both live long, wonderful lives together forever and a day.”

  “And to my handsome husband, who I will always love and cherish forever and a day.”

  They tipped their glasses and drank.

  They spent another twenty minutes or so celebrating their wedding day in the family room, reminiscing the ceremony and reception. Then they headed for the bedroom to resume the celebration by making wild, passionate love, assured beyond a doubt that theirs was a match made in heaven.

  Chapter 13

  -Now-

  The next morning, Greshmere had awoken feeling as exhilarated as always. He was grateful for that, for he had felt anything but joyous the day before after the disappointing experience at the Point. He had wondered before closing his eyes for the night if the letdown would somehow eliminate his rapture.

  The magic was still there.

  Mitzy had been the perfect hostess when they returned to her home. She had introduced him to some of the other inhabitants in the community and he’d gotten to know some of her friends a bit better. He couldn’t help but notice how happy and content they all seemed to be in their own little slice of heaven. Shnarker had been right: heaven is indeed what you make it. And this community of birds could not be more in tune with one another while living their lives in this beautiful natural habitat they called home.

  Just before leaving her, he had promised Mitzy that he would return some day to visit no matter what may happen. He had formed quite a bond with the youngster in a short time and felt a special attraction to her. She possessed an enthusiasm and insight into this special world that he found remarkable, especially considering her youthfulness and playful personality. She was upbeat and lively, yet she possessed a maturity level that was over the top at any age.

  He spotted the Point, flew down and landed. The view through the trees looked even more spectacular now in the warm morning sunlight. There was a fine mist hanging low over the river valley, giving the scene a peaceful serenity.

  He perched himself on the railroad tie, wondering what the significance of this place might be. He thought about the two names carved in the tree and what the inscription suggested—a place where Daniel K. and Megan S. had spent time together as a couple. They had probably been teenagers and the Point was a venue where the local kids hung out to park, party and make out. He glanced down at the campfire pit and could easily envision a boy and a girl sitting here at night with a roaring fire and no one around to disrupt their bliss.

  Could he really have been one of those boys?

  That would be too easy, he thought. Yet to hear Mitzy’s take on it, you’d think it was not only possible, but likely. Was it the girl’s naivety or her gift for insight that made her so self-confident? he wondered.

  He had given all of this some thought and hoped to solve at least part of the mystery. If he had indeed been Daniel K. in his former life, then Daniel K. would have to be deceased. And he had to have passed away recently—not more than a few months ago. He knew this because of what he had observed in New York City. The World Trade Center was long gone and there had already been quite a bit of progress made on the new Freedom Tower. He realized that construction of the tower had been at around the same stage of progress while he was still a human—perhaps he had read this in the news.

  So if Daniel K. had passed away within the last few months, his obituary would still be listed in the local newspaper—assuming that he had been a longtime resident of the area and still had family here. It wouldn’t take long to check this out since the town was so small. All he would have to do was locate a Daniel whose last name began with “K” in the local obits.

  That could be a daunting task. First, he would have to locate the office of the local paper and somehow get inside the place. Then he would have to find out how to access their database, assuming that they had one. Accessing the database could prove difficult for even a seasoned detective; so it would be even harder for a pint-sized, four-toed bird.

  But he would cross that road once he got to it. What he needed to do now was fly into town and track down the office of the local newspaper.

  The first thing he did when he arrived in Smithtown was look for a copy of the town’s newspaper. He flew past several homes, hoping to find one on somebody’s porch. When this didn’t pan out, he began looking for a phone booth with a phone book. When that idea failed, he decided to try the next best thing: a gas station mini mart. Smithtown had no shortage of these and he quickly found one on a main drag in the downtown area.

  It dawned on Greshmere that it was Sunday morning, which could explain why the entire downtown area seemed void of much activity. Even the gas station looked deserted, save for an elderly employee who was at work posting the latest gas prices on the sign out front. Greshmere flew directly up to the front door that was propped open and went inside. He spotted several newspapers on a shelf by the door: the Columbus Dispatch, the Cincinnati Enquirer and a Friday edition of the Smithtown Observer. He stole a glance at the man outside and then proceeded to use his beak to flip through the Smithtown Observer until he found the address for its offices: 412 Sixth Street.

  Elated at his find, he flitted out of the mini-mart without incident.

  It only took him five minutes to locate the offices of the Observer. The st
one building was pretty expansive for a small town publication, which Greshmere attributed to the space necessary for housing its printing presses. He flew over to the main entrance and discovered that the place was locked up tighter than a drum. This was good news since he wouldn’t have to worry about anybody impeding his actions.

  Assuming that he could get inside in the first place.

  He flew around the entire perimeter of the building, keeping an eye out for any tubes, pipes, or holes that could allow him access. There was nothing. He then flew up onto the roof and headed directly over to a huge air conditioning unit. He noticed some aluminum ductwork jutting out from the bottom and peeked inside. Each component dead-ended into the compressor housing and went no further.

  He then examined the pipes and vents scattered about on the roof, but not a single one allowed inside access. Eyeing the small structure containing the entrance to the roof, he flew over to check it out. Although the door was sealed shut, he noticed a small hole in the housing under the eave. The hole was just big enough for him to squeeze through.

  Once inside, he flew down the narrow stairway to the second floor landing of the building. The access door was closed, so he flew down the stairs to the first floor and found the same thing. He then went down to the basement level, where the door was propped open. After making his way in the darkness past the furnace room and a storage area, he entered a cavernous room where an enormous printing press stood idle. Beyond this area was another set of stairs that led directly to a small first floor foyer, evidently where the paper’s deliveries were made.

  Greshmere flew into the spacious first floor lobby and lit on a computer monitor located on the receptionist’s desk. The screen was blank and the PC was turned off. He surveyed the lobby then headed over to a hallway that led to an office area. There were no less than a dozen desks with panels separating each one. Beginning with the nearest one, he proceeded to check out every desk for a computer that was powered on, but to no avail. At the last one he checked, he attempted to press down the power button with his beak but didn’t have enough strength to hold it down long enough to turn on the juice.

  Disgruntled, he flew back down the hallway and located the stairs leading to the second floor of the main lobby. This was where the private offices were located. He began checking out each one until he finally found one with its computer screensaver operating.

  He scooted the mouse forward with his beak and the screen came to life. He began pecking and nudging his way through the desktop folders until he found access to the database. As he worked, he marveled at the ease with which he navigated the computer. He began wondering if he had acquired these skills as a result of a technological field he had been engaged in as a human.

  He discovered that the data could be accessed either by category or by date. He opted for the former and was able to sift through the many fields ranging from advertising to weather to the national news. His face suddenly lit up when he found the file he was looking for: the obits.

  The obituaries were classified by local, state, national and international. He accessed the local database and began painstakingly sifting through the names, beginning with the most recent entries. Averaging two minutes per page in the beginning, his time improved as he became more skillful with his mouse technique. Although he felt no pain from the constant nudging of the mouse this way and that with his head, he could swear that his beak had actually lost its sharp point by the time he had covered a dozen or so pages.

  Eventually he realized that the local files were further broken down by nearby towns and weren’t inclusive of Smithtown proper. He had been searching Union Township all this time, one of the hamlets located out in the county. Although Daniel K. could have resided in one of these rural areas, he wanted to begin with the city base.

  He brought up the database for Smithtown proper and continued his search. He had gone all the way back four months when he finally found an entry for a Daniel K. Excitedly, he clicked his way to the actual copy of the obit and began reading:

  Kendall, Daniel James

  Daniel James Kendall, 27, passed away suddenly on Friday, December 9, 2011. A 2003 graduate of Smithtown High School, he was employed by Barrington Industries in Columbus. Daniel is survived by his beloved wife, Megan (Sands); his parents, Thomas and Sandra of Smithtown; a sister, Alison Brewer, also of Smithtown and a nephew, William Brewer.

  A Celebration of Life Service will be at 2 p.m. Saturday, December 15, 2011 in the chapel of THOMASON FUNERAL SERVICE where the family will receive friends at 1 p.m. until time of service.

  Greshmere read the obituary twice slowly, hanging on to each and every word. When he finished, he felt all but convinced that he had in fact been Daniel James Kendall in his former life. Why he felt so confident, he wasn’t sure.

  But he’d bet his life on it.

  So he had at last succeeded in his quest.

  Yet ironically, it seemed totally pointless.

  For although he may have just discovered his former human identity, not a single thing about it was registering with him now. He recalled absolutely nothing—not a single, solitary memory of his wife, his family, his career.

  Nothing.

  What does it all mean?

  His thoughts suddenly flashed back to Kloob. He recalled how he had felt pity for the bird because he had spent so much time pursuing his past, yet still had virtually nothing to show for it. He had found the place in his vision, but knew no more about himself than he had before.

  Is this not exactly where he found himself now?

  Yet Kloob had been determined—no, driven to follow through with his quest. And although he didn’t even know what she looked like, he was convinced that he would some day be back together with the love of his life. It seemed crazy, but there you have it.

  So the sixty-four thousand dollar question now: did he feel the same sort of drive as Kloob felt?

  Greshmere read the obituary one more time. Afterwards, he did the math and realized that he had passed away just a little over four months ago. How strange! he thought. One moment he had been torched to ashes and the next thing he knew, he was a bird in heaven!

  He stopped cold as a single word suddenly leaped out from the screen.

  Megan.

  He smiled broadly to himself. It was a revelation—an epiphany.

  Although he had doubted the inscription in that tree would ever lead to anything, it had in fact. In spades. For not only had he found out who Daniel K. was, he had discovered something just as important.

  Who the mysterious Megan S. was.

  Not only had Megan Sands been his girlfriend in high school, she had become his wife years later.

  This is monumental! he thought.

  Megan is the key.

  He knew what he had to do. He did a quick Google search for Megan Kendall and found a listing in Columbus for a woman by that name that was twenty-six years old. It has to be her! he thought. He noted the address and used Google Maps to find out exactly where her home was located. It was not far from the freeway in a neighborhood called Clintonville. He switched over to satellite view, zoomed out a bit and took a mental picture of the simplest way to get to her home from the south side of town. After closing all of the windows on the PC and restarting the screensaver, Greshmere left the Smithtown Observer the same way he had come in.

  En route for Columbus, Ohio.

  Chapter 14

  -Then-

  Megan sat and stared vacantly at the dancing flames, not at all fooled by the seemingly random flickering of the natural gas-fueled logs in her fireplace. The cozy glow followed a precise pattern that would appear random to the casual observer, but she knew better.

  It had been nearly two weeks to the day since she had learned of Daniel’s death. Two weeks of pure hell trying to keep herself together long enough to see to the funeral arrangements and all of the other unpleasant things that went along with the death of a loved one. That was all over now and she found herself absol
utely mired in the grieving process—a process that seemingly had no end.

  In the undulating red glow illuminating the family room, she glanced over at the dozen or so Christmas/sympathy cards lined up along the fireplace mantle. The collection of cards proved beyond a reasonable doubt that there could be no worse time to lose a significant other than during the holidays.

  Was she perhaps feeling a bit sorry for herself?

  Understatement of the year.

  She felt tears forming, and for a moment she tried to hold them back. Then she let them flow, staring at the flames through a blur, feeling her heart ache. She remained that way for several moments, paralyzed by a mixture of despair and anger. She shouldn’t be doing this again, she thought, yet it was impossible to avoid. She was only human. Could she ever survive it?

  When Megan recovered, she acknowledged that she had repeated this same scenario all week, without fail. Every day had been the same thing, like a well-rehearsed play: get up and go to the office, pretend that work was so absorbing that it was keeping her mind off of the obvious, watch her coworkers stare at her in pity, come home, take as long as possible preparing a big dinner that she would only peck at, then proceed to retire to the family room to contemplate how much longer she was going to be able to do this before she finally cracked.

  Or killed herself.

  But miracle of miracles, there was one saving grace to all of this. One single, solitary thing that had gotten her this far and would ultimately save her soul: her baby. Had it not been for this precious little thing growing inside of her, she would have cashed in her chips two weeks ago. Knowing that she was going to have Daniel’s child actually made survival a viable option.

  But her survival was bittersweet. She would be going through the pregnancy without Daniel at her side, all the while being torn apart by the fact that he hadn’t even lived long enough to learn that they had finally made a baby.