“How are you feeling?”
Bram turned to see Mr. North standing at his bedside. It was not difficult to notice the unconcerned way he asked. But then what could Bram expect after all that had occurred?
“Weak. Just weak and sore,” he answered. Bram tried to adjust himself but the pain shot up his body, forcing him to remain still. Mr. North raised Bram’s head and slipped a pillow in place. For a moment Bram thought he was going to suffocate him with it! Mr. North wore an impeccably clean pinstriped suit similar to the one he had worn the day he had bought the circus. He looked completely out of place compared to the others working in the area. He pulled up a chair next to Bram.
“You’ve slept a straight twenty-four hours. Those bullets just grazed you but they tore up your flesh quite a bit.”
Bram was unaware of any bullet wounds, but the soreness in his body told him he had sustained some injury. He tried to remember yesterday. The horrors were not hard to find. They were waiting like the Grim Reaper, there to bring back the pain, that deadly suffering of knowing that what once was, is gone, and can never be again.
“Let her go, son, and only then will peace come to you,” his father had said when Modoc was taken. But Bram questioned it then as he questioned it now. He felt inadequate; that form of thinking was for older, more intelligent people. He would have to grow into it. He remembered Mr. North standing over him at Sian’s burial place and then…waking up here. Mr. North saw the questioning look on Bram’s face.
“You never said a word after we first met. You got up, grabbed hold of Modoc’s tail, murmured to her to ‘move up’ or something like that, and she brought you here. The whole line of elephants followed. What an incredible sight that was! All those elephants, some near death, limping, bleeding, they all followed her!” Mr. North had found a rag and was cleaning his shoes. “Both you and Modoc were weak and…well, you almost fell a number of times, tripping and whatnot. Actually, you did one time. Fall, that is. I tried to help but Modoc wouldn’t let me. She picked you up, waited for a few moments until you could stand, then moved on slowly. She was staggering all over the place, poor beast, but she got you both back.”
“Is she…okay?” he asked hesitantly.
“Oh yes, doing fine,” said Mr. North. Then continuing his thought: “Those bullet holes…why I’ve never seen or heard of such a thing. I never knew…”
Mr. North talked on for a brief period before realizing that once Bram heard that Mo was all right he had dropped off into a deep sleep. Maybe it was from sheer exhaustion or from a need to escape the pain of thinking…knowing that Sian, his beloved, was dead. That she would never lie in his arms again. That she was alone back there like his father up on Grenchin Hill. Bram, too, was now alone. What would he do without her?
He fell into a deep sleep. Sleep, like time, can be the healer of all things. Bram found himself running down alleyways and dirt roads looking for Mo. He was sweating and out of breath when he ran full tilt into a man wearing a dark shroud.
“Please, sir, I am looking for an elephant, she is big and—and—”
“The one called Modoc?” the face inside the hood asked.
“Yes, that’s her! Where is she?”
He pointed a bony finger. “Some men came and hauled her away many days ago.”
“What? What?”
Bram awoke in a sweat. As he lay in his cot he had visions of Mr. North lying to him about Mo, when in fact he had already taken her.
Two days had passed since Bram had been brought to the village. His strength was returning and he was anxious to see Mo. He would see her tomorrow. His thoughts again turned to Sian. Early in their relationship he had had to leave for a few days to haul teak deep into the forest.
“Let’s try to meet each other in our dreams!” he had suggested.
She laughed her lighthearted giggle. “That is impossible!”
He told her that he had heard of people doing it, that it took a lot of practice but in the end…it worked if you believed!
“That way we will never be alone.”
“Then we will try,” she said.
“But first we need a meeting place,” said Bram.
They chose a beautiful small rise high in the forest as the place to meet in their dreams. They had met there many times in their waking hours. A large fig tree was growing old there and cast its branches in a huge arch around its base. They always called it their tree.
“This is where we will meet in our dreams! Under our tree!” And so they did. After many months of practice one could dream of their place and most often the other would be there! There the warm breezes blew, the flowers were sweet to smell, the simple things of life were best. There he could hold her hand, comb her hair, touch her face, kiss her lips at the time of a smile…He would try to meet her again, in her after-death, to share their ethereal love as they once did in their dreams.
The morning sun had not yet cleared the mountain when Bram awoke from a restless sleep. A nurse, seeing his struggle to dress, helped him in his endeavors.
“You shouldn’t be leaving your bed just yet, Mr. Bram,” she cautioned, tracing her fingers across the deep purple slash of bruises that swept down his chest.
“I have to meet a lady,” he said. He thanked her for her concern, steadied himself, and headed out of the makeshift hospital. On his way, he stopped by a few beds, shaking hands and chatting with his mahout friends. They talked about the battle, about those who had died, both elephants and men. They were all concerned about being able to return to their homes and loved ones.
“I will speak to Mr. North. I am sure he will help. I have to see Mo now, but when the time is right…”
Bram had no idea how he would do this but looking into their faces he had to give them some hope. A wave goodbye, and he was out in the morning sun, heading in the direction he had been told Modoc and the other sick elephants were kept. He asked along the way. All pointed toward the end of town. As he approached the road’s end, a small valley surrounded by a series of modest hills began to open up. The smell of elephant permeated the air. But there was another. Maybe only for Bram—the smell of the war. He walked to a rise at the end of the road and looked into the valley below.
The door to Bram’s mind shut at what his eyes saw. It was best. Sometimes the mind does that. It hides things from its own eye. Not wanting to remember, to believe, to be hurt. To change the levels of compassion and understanding to pain and suffering. His breath was gone, his throat dry.
Scattered in the valley lay what appeared to be giant gray stones, rocks in transition; a passage of time between life and the cadaver. Elephants! Some already hard from rigor mortis, others just barely breathing, waiting their turn to become stone. Still others wandered aimlessly, some hopping, others dragging their broken limbs, bumping into other elephants, tripping over the dead and dying. One stood on his trunk rocking back and forth, trying to figure out why he couldn’t move ahead. Another lay on his side trumpeting, feet thrashing out, running in sheer panic, his brain caught in the mindless mid-world of the war. He believed he was still on the field of battle, racing away in a world gone mad. Pools of blood broke into tiny tributaries and arched their way around the bodies. The mahouts who were able scrambled around doing whatever they could to help. Bram wept, drenching his throat with inner tears for their suffering. In a barely audible sound, a primal voice from the mind in anguish was heard: “Dear God.”
Bram looked over the field of death and pain. The carnage was awesome. Blood, flies, bees were everywhere. The bullets had done their damage. It was no different from the hospital he had just left. He walked among them, touching, speaking his concern to both the men and the elephants. He knelt down occasionally to caress the heads of those who couldn’t rise to say a few words of encouragement to the mahouts.
The mahouts, along with others from the village, were treating the elephants as best they could. Bram saw that the doctor who had been attending him and the others was now helpin
g to save the elephants. Some were in great pain as he dug and poked trying to extract the bullets. The mahouts did everything in their power to stop the bleeding. They packed large wads of cotton and gauze into the wounds. A pile of bloody bullets lay on the ground.
At the far side of the area were five or six elephants in recovery. One was Mo. She lay on her side breathing heavily. A mahout was wrapping gauze around a thin stick, dipping it into an antiseptic, then running it into the tunnel the bullets had made in her head. The pain was excruciating. But she lay there seeming to know, to understand. Some of the holes had gone completely through her head. Other bullets, lodged deep inside the spongelike cartilage, had to be dug out.
A stream of cool mountain water ran directly through the middle of the grounds. At one place the stream formed a large pool. Many of the elephants lay in the cool water, letting it soothe and clean their wounds.
Modoc tried to rise when she saw Bram but he soothed her into staying, rubbing her trunk and hugging her. He took over for the mahout, thanking him for his help. For the remainder of the day Bram treated Mo, bringing her fresh water, carrying fresh-cut grass and dried mountain clover from the slopes. He had to be careful with the mix so as not to cause stomach problems. He spoke to her of all that had happened. Of the life and death of those they both knew and of his visit with Mr. North.
In the days that followed the bleeding subsided but the swelling and infection remained. It was evening before Mr. North arrived. Bram had been told by a local that he would be coming up. He knew he would. It was just a matter of time.
“And how is my girl doing?”
“Just fine. Still weak. But she’s eating better and the swelling seems to have gone down.”
A series of fires had been lit sporadically throughout the valley to keep the elephants warm as well as to give light. Bram had carried all the branches he could find and lit four small fires around Modoc. Soon they were ablaze and the warmth between them was like a huge blanket.
Mr. North took a seat in front of one of the fires on a large log that would eventually be sacrificed. He was faceless with the blazing fire at his back.
“Bram, it’s time we had a talk.”
Bram figured this was it. He knew the time had come. Mr. North lit a cigarette from one of the flaming branches.
“I don’t think in all my life I have ever disliked anyone as much as I dislike you,” he said. “No, I don’t mean dislike, hate is a better word!”
Two pointed spirals of fire flared behind Mr. North’s head. He blew smoke from his cigarette that mingled with rising smoke from the warming fires around him. He surely looked like his Maker.
“Wh…?” Bram stuttered, not expecting this from him. He was unable to say anything, not that Mr. North allowed him to.
“You have cost me a fortune!” he continued, ignoring Bram’s words. “You have caused me and my people to chase all over the world for the both of you! You have lied, and cheated, and stolen from me!” His voice became louder. “Why, you damn near got my elephant killed!”
Mr. North stood and came close to Bram, almost too close. Bram could feel his muscles, sore as they were, begin to tighten. Mr. North was so close now, Bram could smell his breath. The veins on the man’s neck protruded with his growing anger.
“Modoc is mine—not yours!” He was yelling now. “I own her! I paid good money and bought her!” He calmed for a moment. “And now comes the hard part. What to do? I want to throw your ass in jail for more years than you could afford. But I understand Modoc won’t listen to anyone but you. If Jake was alive, he would beat some sense into her.”
North’s voice softened a bit. “I realize all that you have done. Many things were perhaps things of…bravery.” Then the pitch changed again. “But most of it is pure bullshit! Who do you think you’re kidding? Why, I have never heard so much crap in all my life! That stuff in the ocean, being attacked by thieves, and all the rest. Maybe the others believe it…not me!”
“But Mr. North, it did happen! Ask anyone who was there! They’ll tell you—it’s true!” Bram stated, standing. “She did save lives…”
“Sit down, Bram! Now!”
Bram slowly sat down, his eyes on North.
North continued, “However, I’m a businessman, Bram, and not a product of sweet sentimentality, so…I figure a wise answer is to capitalize on it. We’ll call Modoc the Sea Elephant or Neptune Hero, something…anything that will make the people come. Why, we will make a hero out of her and—”
“Heroine.”
“Yes, heroine out of her! People will pay to come and see her now more than ever!” The heat from the fires was warm on his back. This man was ruthless. North went on, “I know if we present Modoc like that, it will increase sales—that will help pay some of the money you cost me. I know Modoc is special. I could not have gotten to where I am now if I didn’t at least have the talent to see talent. And I wouldn’t have bought her if I hadn’t seen it in her! I’m not so stupid as to not realize that you are able to bring this ability out of her.”
There was a moment of quiet tension in the air, both men staring each other down. It was Mr. North who broke the stalemate.
“And while we use the publicity to get people to come, you will work on a special act. Better than the one I saw at the circus. Are you listening to me, mister?”
Bram, eyes were on the man; his stomach tightened at the thought of having to work for him. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“I want to see something that no other elephant can do, has ever done, or will ever do. Then maybe I won’t hate you anymore…just dislike you. You wanted your chance, you got it. Let me down and I promise this—you will never see Modoc again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir—very clear,” Bram replied, tight-mouthed.
The smoke from the fire caused Mr. North to have a coughing spell. He got up gasping something about leaving as soon as Mo was able. Then he stumbled down the dark path toward the village.
Bram turned to Modoc, who was resting. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, releasing his anger. He stroked Modoc’s neck gently.
A belly rumble answered Bram, and together the two watched the embers in the fires dance into the night.
32
THE CARAVAN WAS WAITING. Modoc and the other elephants that were fit to travel, and carts carrying the food supply, fresh water, clothing, and trade products for the next village had been packed and were ready to go.
Mr. North had gone ahead in a far better arrangement to prepare for the trip overseas. He wanted all to be in readiness when the caravan arrived at the dock.
Bram had packed his belongings. Mr. North had given him an advance on his salary to buy a few things for his trip to the United States. There wasn’t much to buy in the village, but with the help of some of the women a few shirts and pairs of pants had been made, along with a jacket for the cool nights on board ship. Even then, his possessions had easily fit into a knapsack.
There were a few things Bram had to do before leaving. First was to see his mahout friends. Some were still in bandages, others limping, but all were grateful to be alive.
“We have shared so much together, we have become…family. Please tell the people of the village that I must go with Modoc to the United States. I have no choice. You all know that.” He hesitated.
“Will you ever come home?” one asked.
“My life will now take a different direction. With Sian gone…and my work in another country…no, the chances are…slim. I don’t think so.” All was quiet for a while, then: “I spoke to Mr. North. He will see to it that all of you return safely.”
Even Bram was surprised that Mr. North had agreed to help. “Tell everyone at the village that I will always treasure the memories we shared.” Bram handed a small package of letters to one of the mahouts. “Will you give these to the people they are marked for: Mr. Singh was so kind to give me a chance; Kalli Gooma was my mentor…teacher of the great things of life; Sian’s family, my f
amily. They took me in as a son and allowed me to take their most precious gift, their daughter, into marriage. Tell them I love them and they will always be in my heart.”
His letters to his mother, Gertie, and Curpo he carried with him so they could be mailed safely from the city.
Bram next visited the Valley of the Stones, which was what the locals now called it. The wind blew over a deserted graveyard. Those who had died were buried on the spot, those who survived were moved to another area so the bad spirits wouldn’t keep them from healing. He remembered the terror that had occurred only weeks ago and was glad those who made it would return to the village and those who had died need suffer no more.
Early that morning Bram had taken the two-hour walk down the mountain to visit Sian’s final resting place. He came to say goodbye. Kneeling, he laid the flowers he had gathered along the way on the grave. “Someday,” he said quietly, “we will meet again, Sian, my love. Out there in the forest of Infinity. I will always love you, remember you, and every night in my dreams, I will meet you under our tree. We will tell each other of what our day has been.”
Bram looked up. The tree was strong and large and would protect the grave for many years. Puffs of crystal clouds floated in the ethereal blue sky. Two young birds sassed each other in the tree, both too young to know the solitude of the moment. Bram’s voice was broken but he spoke aloud.
“Modoc wanted to come but, you see, we have a long way to go and I didn’t want to overtax her. She wanted you to know she will miss you and…I love you, Sian. I always will. I miss you so much.”
His tears fell upon her grave. One lingered at the edge of a flower petal. In that moment Bram saw in its reflection the clouds, the sky, and the tree. He realized then that all things of nature would be in Sian, and she would now be reflected in them. He knew that only the shell that had once been her was lying in the ground. The seed within, the life source, had been carried by the wind to nourish itself with the sun, air, and water. She was one with nature. Her beauty had been added to and now enhanced the universe.