Healers - Part 1.0 (The Chase)
I’m not a writer, but this came to me in a dream. I’ve transcribed it to the best of my ability. There are 6 or 7 parts so far.
An eyeful of dreams rotated from forefront to behind, though still at the surface of my mind. A thick blur blanketed the morning as I struggled to awaken. This would be the filter of the day. A hazy washout glazing my vision, graying out clarity between what is and what isn’t. A part of me has stayed behind, refusing to engage in the physical world and the reaction to it by my senses. I pause now, unsure if I have just awakened or haven’t slept at all. Or if I’m still asleep.
The over-sized carport opens up into a covered breezeway to the lodge. The floor is covered in large square tiles made of limestone and separated by wooden planks in a grid pattern. The walls are made from cedar planks, generous windows on the sides. Looking behind me, there is no wall. An opening, three cars wide to allow anything to come or go.
There is no driveway, just a long road that goes nowhere. Except here. Mammoth sequoias line the road. Only ferns and broad leafed foliage can collect enough sun to survive underneath them.
It seems we’re running. I’m driving fast and paranoid from the danger presumably pursuing us from the bullfight.
Ernesto’s glory days were behind him, that’s for sure. The formerly great matador still carried himself with pomp and swagger. His black and silver sequined outfit demanded it, and he was more than eager to deliver on it. The wall had been removed from the ring today. I sat in the front row with Lacy. She looked pretty and well kept as always and was dressed in a nice pair of navy shorts, a preppy white blouse, and some expensive sandals. She looked older than I remembered. And somehow friendlier. The crowd was sparse, as is usually the case for a matinee. Ernesto strutted over to me before the show was to begin and wedged himself between Lacy and me. He was looking at me and then whispered into my ear. Inappropriately close and almost intimate, like a lover might. His breath was rancid and I was glad when he stood up and stepped away. He laughed loud enough for everyone to hear, making a show of the fact that he thought he had just told me something of great amusement. “He is so disgusting,” Lacy whispered.
“Yea, you’re not the one who had to smell his breath.”
I felt a pinch on my ear. “Amigo.” Long pause. “Show some respect,” came the slow Spanish accented voice from behind me. “Who the fuck are you, huh? HUH?”
Lacy’s eyes were bigger than normal which is really saying a lot, as her eyes always were big and beautiful. One of about a hundred reasons that I was secretly in love with her. I was more annoyed than afraid. I pulled my head slowly away to release the fingers that held me. I turned and looked. There were three men, all of them with dreadful stares. The man directly behind me was dirty and unkept with dark hair draped loosely over his eyes, the other two with lighter hair, thinner and taller, and less Spanish looking then their counterpart. They carried solemn, serious faces and looked hard into me in a way that I could almost feel something actual and physical penetrating my body.
I looked them down, stood and took Lacy’s hand. “C’mon.”
We exited slowly up the steps. The stares felt like burns in my back. When we reached the concession area there was a big group of men dressed in old football uniforms with leather helmets. The place was open and uncovered, but presumably fenced in somewhere beyond my view. I realized that I didn’t remember coming in. A group of several dozen people were chanting “Hold that line” and the chants grew louder as their number grew. Today was the day the coach would be making his final cuts. There were wooden folding chairs in a line, apparently one designated for each player. I was asked to light them all on fire at the bottoms of the legs “To the best of your ability, don’t spare a single one,” the coach said to me. I nodded my head and did as he asked. It took only about a minute for all the chairs to become completely engulfed in orange fire, as the wood was porous and very flammable. Lacy tugged at my arm indicating it was time to go. Someone wanted us out of there. I was oblivious, but she knew. I turned and saw a posse forming at the portal to the ring. The three men were yelling to each other and to the others that had gathered, everyone’s heads careening around hastily trying to spot us.
“Whoa, wait a minute. We’re not leaving. I haven’t done anything and I’m damn sure not in the mood for running away.”
“A, there might be more happening than you know here,” she said in a curt, cautious tone. “More than you might recollect or understand.”
I let a nervous “ha” slip from my mouth. But settling down on me was a familiar realization, the one you get when you’ve been found out. I’ve had it more often than I’m proud to admit. The hair on my neck stood stiff like hackles, they were coming for me.
We walked briskly, staying roughly on a line to an exit that kept the fire between us and the portal, hoping that it would block their view. When we got out the door Lacy ran top speed to the car, which was an amusing sight for my normally proper and calm friend.
We had left the top down on the old, white Carerra and both of us leaped over our doors into the car. I thought us inconspicuous but for the loud engine, and didn’t see anyone following from behind. To the right was a covered walkway separating two parking lots, which I presumed was used during the rains. I had heard people talk about the sudden storms and floods here, but it was always arid and dusty whenever I had visited.
As we approached the end of the walkway, a red Bronco pulled out from behind it and turned to face us. I braked and saw the dark haired guy from the arena behind the wheel, one of his sandy haired companions in the passenger seat. We made eye contact and I heard his motor rev. At the same time, instinctively, I threw the car into reverse and flew backward a few hundred feet and turned hard into an perpendicular aisle, almost losing control. There was not enough time to make an attempt at going forward, as the Bronco was nearly on our front bumper. I kept flooring it in reverse, the engine whining hard and made another fierce turn at the next aisle. In just a split second I was able to throw it into first and spin out forward, the Bronco just missing slamming into the side of us as it spun around the turn close behind. I heard a crashing sound and in my rear view mirror saw that they had clipped a couple parked cars making their turn. I focused, gripping the wheel with clenched hands, made a few quick rights and lefts, darting in and out of rows of cars. With Lacy bouncing and swaying in her adjacent bucket seat, we made it to the exit and cut hard right onto the main road, spinning wheels as I threw it into second gear.
I floored it and quickly put some distance between us and our pursuers. But just ahead there was some traffic coming up and cars stacked about five deep in front of a red light. There was no oncoming traffic, so I swerved into the oncoming lane and looked frantically both ways and then darted left at the traffic signal through the red light just between two cars. I almost hit the one that I squeezed in front of and the driver laid on the horn. I felt sweat on my chest and looked back to see the Bronco stopped at the light, but forcing its way through, lots of cars stopping and starting, all of them honking at them.
I floored the Carerra again and quickly got it up to about 90, which was pretty fast for a commercial area. Thankfully there were not many cars around. Lacy held her hands in tight fists raised just above her thighs and I could see that she was shaking. I thought of saying something light hearted, but didn’t. The exit ramp to the freeway was just ahead and a swerved around the car in my adjacent lane and took it. I had put maybe a quarter mile of space ahead of the Bronco and pushed the car faster. On the freeway I got up to 130 without much trouble. Within five minutes I couldn’t see them at all.
“Any one of these exits can get us to the woods,” Lacy said flatly. We were headed north, desert all around except to the west, where there were tree lines and hills in the distance. I took the next off ramp and left under the bridge onto a two lane road. The road was dead straight, presumably a straight shot into the trees. I drove fast, but not at an unreasonable pace, the sun dropping in front of us just left of center.
At the entrance through the line of trees, the forest swallowed us immediately. The road seemed to turn old, there were no signs, no lines on the cracking pavement. The Carerra was reasonably equipped to handle the narrow and winding roads through this mature forest. I should have been nervous, but I felt a calm certainty in my body and soon forgot about our pursuers. The top was down on this warm, comfortable day but I looked up to see almost no sky at all. Just late afternoon light flickering through the giant trees. A thought passed my mind that there are mini ecosystems high up in those branches. Evolved species that live hundreds of feet up in the air, never to touch solid ground. Rodents and bugs and other plants that grow out of the over sized branches. My next thought was how I would be able to navigate without being able to see the stars tonight. This is how the mind of a runaway operates. Curious, creative at times, and always looking for exit signs.
“Left ahead,” she said, breaking my thoughts. I nodded and followed her directions. These were her woods, not mine.
“Protectors, Athan. They’ve watched your every step. They guard and defend without care as to who is right or wrong. I know you know this, but you’re acting like you don’t. You have to be careful. You’ve got to keep your distance no matter how tempted you are.”
I sighed as a flood of memories rose like flood waters in me. Unwanted, invasive, inescapable memories. “God dammit.” I felt betrayed. I wanted to fight, to kill. But the numbers were stacked against me, not to mention otherworldly forces they wield. A band of brothers designed to protect the deity I left behind. I had been allowed in, ushered in, actually. Allowed to be loved and to love back. It was real, all of it real, and then somehow it went horrendously wrong. There were a thousand ways to blame myself, and yet another thousand to blame. Looking back, I could see now that everywhere there was a guardian. In the woods a vulture and black wolf, in the castle a host of magicians and dragons. All kinds of defense mechanisms, alter beings designed to force me into a mold or to force me out. I left willingly without a word. Maybe that was not acceptable.
