Forever Young The Beginning

by Gerald Simpkins

  “In the Bible, King David said when his son died that no more would his son come to him, but that one day he would go to his son. No more will Alandra come to me…” here he stopped to regain control of himself, and his faltering voice. “But God willing, one day I will go to her. May you rest in peace in the arms of the angels, my Alandra. May our Lord gather you to his bosom in His everlasting love.”

  He stood silent then, tears streaming from his eyes. Celita was red-eyed from weeping, as were the Vasquez family and numerous onlookers who had children that had been healed or taught at Barcelona House. All of the children present wept openly, having loved Alandra so greatly.

  Ian turned and handed a package to Tom and Celita. “This grants you and Alandra’s parents sole authority as co-directors of Barcelona House. It is funded by a trust that I’ve established in perpetuity. This facility is to be re-named Alandra Vasquez House forever. Turning to Alandra’s parents, he wordlessly embraced them and Alandra’s teenage brother. Then turning, he walked a few steps to a bench overlooking the grave and sank down, slumping and gazing with dull eyes upon her grave. The sounds of weeping mingled with the wind sighing sadly through the trees.

  Chapter 107

  Young Marc Beaumont moved stealthily forward with a musket primed and loaded. Patiently he had waited for a chance to kill the predator that was eating his chickens. Mornings and evenings were his best chance. It was evening now and he thought that he had seen a hint of movement in a thicket near where there was a large pile of stones overgrown with vines down in a depression choked with brush and undergrowth. He carefully knelt and steadied the musket; aiming at the last place he’d seen movement. The light was getting bad, but he held out hope for a shot at the fox before it got dark.

  Suddenly the fox was in the open, picking its way up the stone pile. He took his shot and hit it. It looked like a clean hit, but the fox staggered and scrabbled its way to a hole made by the random arrangement of the stones. The hole looked too small but the fox instinctively wriggled its way down into it and lay there as its life’s blood was pumped from its dying body by its own heart.

  He wanted to verify the kill, but the thought of climbing down into the hole and up the vine covered rock pile in the failing light wasn’t appealing. In the gathering darkness, it would be easy to slip and be badly hurt. Satisfied, young Marc turned away and walked to his home as darkness closed in. He’d check the stone pile in the morning.

  In its lair, the thing heard the loud report. It had come after the clattering and voices had ceased for a while. The thing was raised to another level of awareness by the loud report. It contemplated that and might have slipped down a level after a time of silence had not something happened next. Something warm ran across its features and entered its mouth. The thing raised its level of awareness several degrees at this new development. This was not just sound. This was touch!

  Then something really strange happened that jarred the composure of the creature. It tasted whatever it was that had entered its mouth. It seemed to be spiraling slowly upwards through levels of awareness now as more and more of the warm slightly salty liquid entered its mouth. It attempted to swallow the gathering pool, and after much effort, it managed to swallow it as more trickled in.

  It suddenly felt warmth surging throughout its body then. It pondered what warmth was. Had it ever known warmth? The upward spiral of ascending levels increased dramatically, like ascending a never-ending series of staircases level by level, but at an ever-increasing speed.

  The warm liquid continued to trickle into its mouth and the thing continued to swallow it. As the upward spiral reached a dizzying rate now the thing swallowed rapidly, even before more had accumulated. It felt a surge of power extending to its members as a tingling warmth. It lapped greedily and its tongue snaked out repeatedly in order that it would get all of the precious liquid.

  It exploded out of the never ending staircase upward into full consciousness then, opening its eyes to behold a dark sky filled with stars. It began to flex and move its muscles and felt their gathering power. Straightening and twisting alternately as each muscle group came to life, it heard the clattering sound again. It knew that it was making the sounds now by pushing rocks aside as it ascended from its lair into the pale moonlight. Clutching the lifeless body of the fox close it ripped its head off. Greedily it sucked the last drop of blood and then began to gnaw at the raw meat. It easily ripped the corpse open and devoured the blood-rich meat, including the intestines.

  Power rippled through its body, and it felt its strength increasing. It looked at the sky and wondered at it with its strange tiny cold lights everywhere and one larger one shining so that the creature could easily make out its surroundings. Not knowing how hideous and disgusting it looked it turned its terrible gaze skyward. Hairless, the pallor of death colored its hide, stretched like mottled parchment over its gaunt frame. Talons which were gaunt and dirty only added to the repulsive look of it. Stinking of corruption and of the grave, nonetheless it didn’t know or care. It was alive and it was hungry.

  ***

  It had been seven days since her ability had returned to her. Along with the others, Celeste had greeted Mustafa as he had arrived that afternoon. As he kissed and cuddled his son, Mustafa listened with great interest as Liri related the story to him about Celeste predicting his arrival.

  This was all new to Jennifer. Aimee and Andre had only heard stories of how Celeste used to be able to foresee a future event, or to know where a person was or what was happening to them. They’d all heard testimonies of her ability and how she’d known the minute that Cosette had perished in the fire and that Ian had been severely burnt.

  Night had fallen and the family was outside on the front veranda, seated in full view of the majestic moonlight-bathed Swiss mountains. Thinking about how Alandra and Ian would be so surprised to hear of the miraculous return of Celeste’s gift Sophia spoke to everyone. “Won’t Alandra be surprised? She never knew Celeste when she had the gift. I can hardly wait to see the look on her face. Let’s not tell her in any letters. It will be more fun that way!”

  Celeste had been walking to and fro on the veranda, bouncing the baby and laughing with her. Hearing that, she brightened then and said “Oh that’s a good idea, Sophia. Won’t it be fun, Aimee? Can’t you just see the surprised look in her big green eyes now?” She had a bit of a faraway dreamy happy look then as all of them happily agreed, some nodding their heads in unison.

  Suddenly her face changed and her countenance fell as she began shaking her head just a little. A strangling sound escaped her suddenly constricted throat then. She quickly handed their baby to Louis as she reached blindly for a chair. As she fell into the chair, the baby began to cry. A sound then came up from her, a guttural moan, as of an animal in torment, as she shook her head more and more, even to where her hair was being violently whipped from side to side. Her doe eyes widened and opened to where the whites of them shone all around. Her baby cried louder and louder.

  “NO, NO, NO, NO! My God, Noooooooo! It cannot be! No, dear God no! She moaned and slumped down in her chair then, sobbing uncontrollably. The others rushed to her. The baby kept crying in Louis’ arms. They couldn’t console her no matter what. Everyone present gathered around her on bended knee. Marie clutched her, already sensing the worst then, a stricken look upon her face as she sat next to her hugging and rocking her. The men stood around in shock, wide-eyed. Celeste sobbed for an indeterminate time as the others sat with her and some had begun to weep a bit with her, not yet knowing why. Her sorrow was so powerful that it seemed to be a physical force that gripped them all.

  She raised her stricken tear-stained face to the others and said in a trembling voice “Alandra has died! She is dead! Oh my God! She is dead! Oh my God! Poor Ian! Oh, poor Ian! Alandra is dead!” The sounds of weeping then increased dramatically as others joined Celeste in venting their gr
ief. It didn’t stop, but gathered strength and seemed to take on a life of its own, as if the mass grief present was a living thing.

  The grandfather clock in the grand foyer chimed the hour as a cuckoo clock in the kitchen sounded off. It was as if neither clock cared that grief had descended on this loving family like a merciless predator.

  Chapter 108

  Ian ran through the Great Pyrenees Mountains like a flash, tirelessly consuming the miles like they were nothing. It seemed to help somewhat. He couldn’t bear the thought of traveling in a coach trapped with his grief. At least this way, he had an outlet and even though much of his movement was instinctive, still it required some effort and mental acuity to perform. He desperately needed that diversion just to cope with the empty ache inside him, dreading being still, alone and quiet with his grief. To sit still for even a moment now was a thought that was unbearable to him. The constant running and leaping and dodging over and around the endless obstacles in the wild terrain blessedly occupied at least a portion of his faculties.

  As he rocketed along he reviewed what he’d done before departing from Barcelona. He had drafted a letter to Roberto telling him of Alandra’s death and of his near term plans. That one he’d sent to Roberto by bank courier. He’d also drafted a brief letter to Ricardo and Alicia in Lisbon. In both letters he had said that likely Mustafa would be their future contact with Banque de Lafayette. He’d been careful to use Mustafa’s alias Maurice Garnier. Those two he had sent by two separate couriers.

  He had drafted a letter to his family in Geneva, and thought again of the words he’d chosen.

  My dear family,

  I take pen in hand this day in great sorrow. I regret to tell you that my Alandra is dead, having died in a runaway carriage accident. She is buried at Barcelona in her family plot, not far from Philippe’s grave.

  I have signed over complete control of Barcelona House to Tom and Celita. I renamed it Alandra Vasquez House. I have given our home there to Tom and Celita and have left our belongings there. Mustafa (as Maurice) is the representative named for our banking business in Spain and Portugal. I have sent letters to those two banks confirming that.

  By the time you read this, I will have departed from Paris to London. From there I will see my family and then go to America. I might just as well take this time of sorrow and turn it to some use for our family and take care of our banking venture. I will communicate via our code through our bank network.

  All of my love forever,

  Ian

  He had written a special letter to Aimee too, and he reviewed it in his mind as he rocketed through the wilderness heading north.

  Dear Aimee,

  Our Alandra is dead. She died in a carriage accident. The last time she spoke of you; it was with all of the love that I know you remember. She has passed from our world to the realm of the angels and now rests in God’s bosom, surrounded by his eternal love. She lovingly awaits us when our journey on this earth is done.

  I am going to America to take care of our banking business. I know that you wanted to come along, but with no one to stay with you while I do this work, that cannot be. I don’t know how long this thing will take, but you and I will see America together one day.

  Please continue to be as wonderful and helpful as you always are, sweetheart.

  With all of my love to you,

  Ian.

  He bounded high, soaring over a deep craggy canyon made somehow to look even deeper and more forbidding in the silvery moonlight. Landing in full stride on the far side of it he vanished from view, running faster than the wind itself.

  ***

  The thing tested the air with its sense of smell and attuned itself to the sounds of the night surrounding it. It let its consciousness expand and trusted its instincts completely, surrendering to them. Beginning a quest for food it eventually turned to investigate a sound. The sound came from an area where there was some kind of dim light. A dog barked. The thing considered the wind and instinctively circled until the wind was in its face before creeping toward that source of light. The dog remained silent. As it crept forward, it became aware of several intriguing scents mixed on the cool night air. It couldn’t identify them, but it realized that somehow it knew what they all were.

  As it stealthily closed the gap it began to get separate whiffs of things that were tantalizing. It realized that it could feed here and be sated. The sounds that had been puzzling when they had started to accompany the clattering while it was in its lair were far clearer now and closer too. It heard the sounds of livestock farther away in areas closer to the woodlands that the creature saw surrounding the site. Knowing where the livestock was meant that it could feed. It didn’t know how it knew that, but it knew.

  Stealthily it crept toward the other sounds, and approached an opening in a structure that had a warm yellowish glow of light coming from it. As it crept soundlessly to the opening, it heard a voice clearly then. Was it the first time it had heard a voice? It strained its faculties to determine that and remembered that yes, it had heard voices before it exited its lair.

  It peered into the opening and saw a young woman holding a tiny creature to her breast and the sound coming from her had a musical quality in it. She was wearing a bright red shawl. The creature pondered the sound, wondering at it, listening raptly as the sound continued. The young woman was making a curious repetitive movement. She was rocking to and fro as she emitted the strange sound. The creature wondered at that. The sound soothed the creature. It puzzled over that and wondered at how it knew what a soothing sound was. It knew that the object that the young woman held was an object of great interest to her and was an object of great affection. The thing wondered how it knew that.

  The object then made a cooing sound. That sound struck a chord in the beast. How could that be? The young woman’s face suddenly changed to a radiant smile. The creature wondered at that. It dawned on it that the young woman was smiling. The thing questioned that revelation. What is a smile, and how do I know one when I see it? Here was a mystery. The gnawing pang of hunger disrupted the thing’s reverie, demanding to be satisfied. The creature forced it to subside by force of will. There was something to be learned here. The predator focused intently on the scene.

  The young woman’s attention was focused only on the object. How did the thing know that this was a young woman? It became hungrier as it watched, the hunger now gnawing at its innards if it was a living thing, and propelling it to action. Yet it restrained itself to see what would happen next.

  The young woman arose from the chair she had been in and lovingly pressed her face to the object as she gently put it down in a box and covered it. It grunted and made a cooing sound as she pressed her face to it again. The thing wondered at that. It longed now to press its hideous face to the helpless object because it had caught its scent. It could feed here in safety, and there was plenty of what it desired more than anything now. The helpless object had the liquid that the creature craved and which now motivated it to spring through the opening, yet it held its peace in spite of the gnawing hunger. That hunger was changing from being less than an easily controlled feeling and more of an undeniable primal motivating force.

  The young woman quietly left the little object in the box and walked from the room, doing something that made the yellow light go away. There was nothing now to stop the creature from feeding on the object. The awful driving hunger rose then like it had a life of its own and began to take control of the creature to where it could feel its ability to reason slipping away. It arose from its position of comfort to one of dreadful and deadly readiness. There was no sound to betray its awful presence. Crickets sang their timeless song as the creature positioned itself to pounce. Its hunger screamed at it to feed now! It was as if a strong gale was blowing out the candle of reason in its mind, leaving only the darkness of primal instinct. It tensed itself to spring.

  Chapte
r 109

  Ian arrived on the outskirts of Paris in mid-morning, quickly donning his boots and walking until he came to Champs Elysees. As he turned to proceed along that avenue, he looked like any ordinary seaman taking a stroll with his rucksack on his back. He went to the hotel where the Lafayette’s still had a suite of rooms. After signing in, he declined to summon the staff, but did order hot water for a bath in the suite and relaxed in it. While there, he remembered the time he and Alandra had shared that tub. Sadly he got out of the tub and dressed in clothing more suitable for a senior bank officer. Some of his personal wardrobe was here, as was everyone’s in the family. Before too long, they would all be transferred to the suite of rooms in the other hotel reserved for the Laforges.

  He sent for the newspapers of the last few days and when they came he occupied himself with reading them; hoping to get any hint of any change in the political winds between France and Britain, or any news of happenings in America. There was mention of a tragic event in Boston which the newspaper referred to as the “Boston Massacre.” Ian read the account with more than a little interest.

  After a while, he put on his coat and went to the Banque de Lafayette and posted his two letters to the family in Geneva for the next courier. He saw no need to make a special dispatch for the two letters. It was enough to pass the bad news along, let alone to pass it along as an urgent dispatch. He thought that he might go to Edinburg before going to London. Then as he contemplated the long Atlantic crossing, he decided that Robert Milliken would need advance notice to see to passage being booked and preparations made for his special needs. It would be best to go first to London and then on to Edinburg to see his family. By the time he got back to London, such necessities would have been made ready.