*~*~*~*
Morning’s chilly pre-dawn air was heavy with the expectancy of winter. The immature orange sunrays played hide and seek with the mountain peaks while itinerant, newborn light beams exuberantly chased around the peaks and projected shadowy images of gold on the backdrop of the cowering night sky. The juvenile beams were devoid of strength to warm the chill from the landscape; but their mature parent was rapidly following and held within it the full force of dawn, while compassionately languishing for a time in the shadows, preparing the creatures of the night for a hasty retreat into their nocturnal sanctuaries before chasing the darkness away completely and flooding their deeds in the full warmth of daylight for all to see.
Madison Brenn turned his back to face the rising sun, hoping the warmth would help to relieve the stiffness in his aging body. At forty-two he was still a bachelor and running each morning was the way he kept in shape, hoping that today was the day he met Miss Right and she would sweep him off his feet. It seemed more likely, as he got older and the available female pickings decreased, he would trip over his feet and fall on his face instead. Still he forced himself to run–or walk–the ten kilometre track each morning in the hope of meeting his dream girl, or at least impressing some girl… any girl!
He stood looking up the track and contemplated giving this morning’s run a miss, when a stab of conscience sealed his fate, remembering his waistline and last night’s enormous greasy meal he had succumbed to, washed down with copious amounts of alcohol.
Brenn sighed and argued with himself. “Alright, you win! But I’m only doing half the course today!” His cranky voice moaned out loud in the quiet surrounds as if he was telling off an argumentative companion.
With all the determination he could muster, he lifted his feet in a forced jog towards the old mill and the halfway point of his torment.
By the time Brenn entered the viticetum overhanging the pathway and just prior to the mill, he had slowed to an unenthused walk and sweat soaked his tee shirt. He had intended on turning back just before entering the mill grove, but an obsessive compulsive desire to touch the mill wheel and complete the halfway point exactly, overcame him and pushed him on to his manic goal, lest something untoward would likely overtake him if he failed in his endeavour. The morning light was heavily dappled into long shadows inside the thick mill grove and the temperature was considerably cooler than the pleasant outside warmth. The sweat staining Brenn’s shirt was making him feel even colder and he shivered, causing him to pick up the pace again in an attempt to complete his mission of touching the waterwheel and at the same time, generate some body warmth. He could hear the sounds of the arthritic wheel screeching and complaining in the distance as the cold water tortured its ancient beams.
Finally the wheel came into view just ahead and as he made a deliberate path for the splintered wood, his feet shot from under him and he stumbled to the ground, as if he was skating on marbles. He fell heavily to his knees and soon began to blame a prankster for placing ball bearings on the path, intent on doing an innocent runner a great disservice and preventing him from touching the wheel.
Brenn’s mind began to argue with the pain, but he had to touch the wheel before something worse befell him. He stumbled to his feet and carefully picked his way around the minefield of metal and limped towards the rotating wood. With a final lunge, his injured hand came in contact with the damp wood and discharged his obsessive compulsive obligation to an unknown force. He was now free to return the way he had come without fear of an unknown reprisal.
As Brenn limped back to the spot he had stumbled, his eyes rested on a large scattering of empty bullet cartridges and a fresh, dark red stain tracking across the path. The truth of his situation soon enlightened his mind: he had taken a fall on the empty bullet cartridges. He checked his injured knees for signs of leaking life blood, but soon it had become evident the blood wasn’t his and someone–or something–else had, not long ago, wandered upon some kind of treacherous skulduggery.
Brenn peered around the grove, looking for signs of life or death and finding nothing except the fresh blood stain, his imagination kicked into high gear and before whatever it was could come after him, he limped out of the grove as fast as his banged up knees would allow.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 30
By the time Jaimon had coughed away the cigarette smoke, cleared his lungs and was able to speak again, Salena was pacing around the small bush hideaway, deep in thought and seemingly conversing with herself.
The thoughts of Rositer still waiting to ambush them at the top of the grey hill made Jaimon nervous and he wondered how long they should wait before they attempted to make a break for home. He opened his mouth and began to speak and was met with a determined, “Sssshhh!” from Salena, as whatever she was contemplating was requiring all of her concentration.
Jaimon obeyed her sharp command, snapping his mouth closed in instant obedience while cautiously watching the small figure pacing. His eyes followed her every move, as his anxiety rose at the odd behaviour that his best friend was displaying. At one stage she walked up close to where Jaimon was sitting, absentmindedly snatched the smouldering cigarette from Jaimon’s hand and began to drag exuberantly, filling the air around her with clouds of suffocating cigarette smoke while continuing her one-sided diatribe.
Salena seemed to have come to a decision and her gaze rested on Jaimon. The intensity of her stare made Jaimon feel uncomfortable, as if she was staring at a piece of meat. She flicked the smoking butt into the thick, dry bush, making Jaimon jump in protest. It wouldn’t take much for the tinder-dry surrounds to catch and turn into an inferno. In a matter of moments, a small plume of smoke confirmed his fears and he plunged headlong into the scrub and stamped out the burgeoning disaster.
“What is it with you, Salena?!” Jaimon’s annoyance at her lack of wisdom exploded as he returned from his fire fighting mission.
Salena seemed to snap out of whatever she was thinking, at Jaimon’s harsh words. “Sorry, Bob, I guess I was so enthralled in our plan that I just wasn’t thinking.”
Salena–Jaimon’s friend–seemed to be back. Jaimon didn’t like the scheming Salena. She scared him. He decided to push his luck and make his point.
“What’s with the cigarettes, too, Salena?!”
“I don’t usually smoke them,” Salena appeared to be defensive. “On occasions like this they help me to think. I don’t know, Bob,” she searched her behaviour, mystified by her own actions.
Suddenly she brightened. “I have a plan, Bob, but we are going to need some help and you are going to have to trust me implicitly.”
Salena eyed Jaimon to see if he was up for her game.
“Help...? Where are we going to get help against Rositer and his gang of thugs?” Jaimon was intrigued. Who did this little powerhouse know that would help him get a bunch of school bullies off their backs? he thought.
Salena took Jaimon’s hand and led him back to the fallen tree. “You have to promise me to follow me exactly and do exactly what I do, promise?”
Salena seemed to be asking for a commitment Jaimon didn’t understand, and Jaimon was becoming uneasy.
“There is only one way we can get these guys off our backs, once and for all. Do you want that, Jaimon?”
“Of course I do, but you are really freaking me out at the moment, Salena. What is it you want me to do?”
“Like I said, just trust me and follow me and do what I do exactly.”
Salena waited for Jaimon to come to his decision as Jaimon thought for a moment. Rositer was probably still waiting and if he didn’t catch Jaimon and Salena today, there was still another chance tomorrow and the next day, until he finally evened the score.
“Okay, Salena, I’m in. Now what?”
Salena seemed to be pleased at Jaimon’s decision. “Okay, Rositer has left the hill now and is on his way home. I need you to come with me to a friend’s house and then I will explain from there.”
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Jaimon still felt uneasy and the mention of Salena’s friend just made matters worse. And how did she know Rositer had left the hill?
“Okay, but I can’t be too late home, otherwise I will get another beating from my father.”
They walked determinedly out of the little bush hideaway, along the road leading to the base of the grey sandhill and started to climb. Jaimon searched the surrounds nervously, but Salena was right. The hill was deserted and the only movement came from the school yard behind them as teachers finally called it a day and drove out of the eerily quiet school grounds.
Salena put up a rapid pace and Jaimon found it difficult to keep up with her. For such a small person, she sure could muster up some horsepower.
“Slow down, Salena. What’s the rush, anyway? Rositer and his thugs have gone home,” Jaimon complained.
“Sorry, Bob. I forget myself when I become focused. There’s a lot to do to prepare before tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?” Jaimon mimicked her.
Salena’s cloudy stare rested on his eyes. “Well, that’s probably when Rositer will pull his move.” She seemed convinced of his intended attack schedule.
Jaimon went quiet as Salena dragged him through the maze of streets and alleys. Finally, they slipped up a short back lane and stopped at a large gate. Salena reached her small arm through a hole in the gate iron and unlatched a locking mechanism, then pushed the gate open. A large tin shed sat in the middle of a sprawling yard and an expansive white house stood some distance away; a small water course, driven by an electric pump, splashed over rocks and meandered through a thick, sculptured Japanese garden. Statues of little fat men and gargoyles were placed strategically around.
The scene gave the impression of peace, but something didn’t feel right.
Salena closed the gate and pulled Jaimon along by his arm towards the shed.
“What is this place?” Jaimon’s fear was prickling and his suspicion was on high alert.
“Ssshhh, you have to be quiet, otherwise you will disturb people; remember, just do what I tell you.”
As they closed in on the shed, they were met by a creepy looking woman dressed in a multicoloured sari, blocking their path to the tin building.
“Is this the one, Salena?” the woman whispered.
Jaimon backed away slightly from the woman and watched Salena affirm her question with a nod. He wanted to run but his feet felt like concrete.
The woman huffed. “Maybe there will be some interest in a small boy. They seem to get bored with the same round of brainless bimbos looking for a good time. Does he know the rules and the price?”
Salena just shook her head.
“Well, perhaps that will be a bigger incentive and add a playful dimension for the players and perhaps he might get lucky. You will have to warn him about the enemy,” she instructed Salena sternly.
Salena nodded again.
The woman stood aside and motioned Salena towards the shed. Salena pulled Jaimon along, but his feet seemed to be disconnected from his body. They apparently wanted to follow her but the rest of him wanted to run. He hadn’t understood, either, anything the woman had said and was trying to ask Salena about the strange place, but it was if he couldn’t speak and his mind was descending into a foggy jumble.
As they turned a corner in the pathway of the garden, the inside of the shed came into view. A whole wall had been removed and was open, while a group of mostly women were sitting, stiff in the lotus position on the polished floor and staring, trance-like, into the garden outside. Their stoned features were silent and unmoving, vacant and staring.
Jaimon gawked in shocked horror at the scene and tried to speak, but a high pitched squeak came out instead.
“Ssshhh, I told you to be quiet!” Salena hissed. Her ire was up at Jaimon’s lack of respect. “You can’t disturb the surfers.”
Salena swiftly dragged him inside the shed, towards the back of the group and took up a vacant space on the floor, assuming the same position the others had taken. She pointed to a place close by and mouthed, ‘Sit and follow my example’.
Jaimon felt as if he wasn’t in control of his own body but he was forced to obey Salena and copy her position.
Before long, Jaimon found himself becoming extremely tired and his energy drained away–like a rag doll, listless and empty–powerless and staring into nothingness but strangely disconnected from his body and everything around him. Somehow he felt vulnerable, as if his defenses had all been breached and made useless.
A sudden movement–like a flutter in a cloud–startled him, but he couldn’t respond. Then a doorway opened in front of him and a great horde of beings jostled each other for position while Jaimon watched helplessly, as they fought to get a look at the new surfer.
The beings were all different: some handsome and charming, while others were ugly and gruff. The group became unruly and the jostling intensified among themselves, arguing for the legal right. Meanwhile, a small being fluttered unnoticed through the doorway and Jaimon jolted uncontrollably, his head snapping backwards as the door slammed closed on the horde and once again, he was aware of his surroundings.
Jaimon peered around the room at the statue-like figures still motionless in the lotus position. His eyes rested on Salena but she was unresponsive to his gaze and still entombed in her trance. He felt like this was his opportunity to escape this weird place and without a second thought, he jumped up and bolted for the garden. Seeing no barriers to his escape, he ran as fast as his feet could carry him towards the back gate and fidgeted with the lock. As the lock gave way, he threw open the big gate covering the large backyard and ran as fast as he could, looking for a recognisable route back home.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 31
After leaving Salena almost comatose back at her friend’s bizarre shed, he wandered breathlessly through the unfamiliar streets, frantic that he was going to be late home and meet the full force of his father’s ire. The whole experience had left him disturbed, and Salena’s friends just added to the creepy dilemma, wondering what other whacky surprises Salena had up her sleeve.
As he finally recognised familiar landmarks and made his way into the front yard of his home, he could feel the anxiety drain, but as his eyes locked onto his father’s car parked in the driveway, a new dread entered his imagination and he prepared for the worst.
Reaching for the front door, he pushed it open and immediately focused on the kitchen clock as his mother turned and threw him an enquiring glance. He was late and the consequences would be swift and brutal, so he decided to go straight to his room and mentally prepare for the inevitable.
Time seemed to drift along as he waited, but retribution didn’t come; then finally, he heard his mother calling him to the meal table. Anxiously, he dawdled out into the night time routine, searching the surrounds with an imminent foreboding until his eyes rested on the form of his father asleep in his lounge chair.
“Sit down,” his mother whispered and then she stiffly wandered in to wake his father. “Hank... HANK! Tea’s ready.”
The overbearing form slowly ground awake and arthritically raised himself from his chair and settled at the head of the table. After a few moments of silence, punctuated by the clanking of knives and forks on china, a sudden, shocking and unexpected reverberation rumbled through the meal time silence and grabbed Jaimon’s attention with the subtlety of an explosion.
“What did you do at school today, Jaimon?”
Jaimon glanced around at the faces forking food into their mouths and staring sideways back at him, eagerly waiting to see what his answer would be. His mouth dried up and he choked on a mouthful of food, while his mother patted his back. Jaimon stared at her gesture in disbelief and then found the nerve to answer the authoritarian.
“I..It was just a normal day, sir,” he replied incredulously.
*~*~*~*
Jaimon had had a weird night’s sleep and his dreams were stirred an
d tormented by ogling faces and then battle scenes with a single, featureless figure dressed in commando fatigues, always at the forefront of the fray and screaming orders to his inane and lost senses.
*~*~*~*
Jaimon plodded the streets, walking to rendezvous with his daily nemesis and wondering what horrors awaited him there today. As he casually climbed the sandy hill overlooking the school property, his mind was so distracted with his family’s unusual behaviour towards him that he completely forgot about Rositer’s gang of thugs and the waiting reprisal for Salena’s attack on Jim Dowden.
As he topped the hill he scanned the landscape, looking for Salena, but after being creeped out by her strange behaviour and that of her friends, he wasn’t sure how he was feeling about their friendship any more.
Ambling absentmindedly down the slope, he was suddenly pounced upon from all directions by a large crowd. Recognising the growing audience that surrounded a person on death row and feeling like a Christian about to be fed to the lions, Jaimon had walked straight into Rositer’s ambush and now he couldn’t escape.
The momentum and the sheer size of the crowd kept him moving down towards the snarling form of Rositer, and by his side, the crooked grin of Jim Dowden. He felt the blood rush to his feet and simply resigned himself to the coming beating.
As Jaimon stood to face the inevitable, his shoulders slumped and he flinched as Rositer grabbed the front of his shirt and twisted his buttons into a bundle of stressed cloth.
From deep within Jaimon, a resonant voice he had never heard before and had no control over, bubbled up and escaped between his lips. Without warning, he grasped Rositer’s shirt and ripped it from his back.
The scene in front of him seemed surreal and moved in slow motion, while he felt like a bystander, watching from a camera hidden inside his body and way too close to the action. He heard the crowd scream in a muffled and garbled baritone warble and then Rositer went flying through the air and landed heavily in the sand some distance away. He felt his body turn towards Dowden and in a horrified action, Dowden tripped over backwards trying to escape Jaimon’s advance and then scurried to escape a repeat of Rositer’s punishment.