Kesh (6 page)

Kesh looked around at the muzzles, snouts, and teeth peering into the hut. Then he glanced at Muskrat and the spider and, finally, took one more sidelong look at the mirror. “Okay. I suppose this is a dream, and in my dream world, it make sense that wild animals were hanging out in my living room. It's still incredibly hard to understand.”

The wind smiled. “You do not have to understand much, at least not yet. Just, know this. Everything you are experiencing will become clear to you shortly. For now this reality is blurred and obscured by the world, by the factories. You see, Kesh, nobody is what he or she appears to be, at least not entirely. Humans are many things. They are selfish, foolish, and blind to the world around them, but in spite of their faults, they are special. Your species is infinitely more powerful than any of you are willing to imagine. Humans have the power to save this world…and to destroy it.”

The wind had fallen almost silent for a moment, leaving only the sound of a sigh. Then Anna continued. “Don't you see, Kesh? You are one of the gifted, the chosen ones. You are the coyote. You have the power to tear away the masks.”

“Okay, let's say that this is real, that you're really talking and I'm a coyote. I don't believe it, but I'll play along. Are there really others, you know, the ones you said are like me?”

“Ah yes, my young coyote,” whispered the wind.” More and more remarkable coyotes, muskrats, badgers, and even spiders are discovering who they are, and we are finding them before the world can muffle their true natures. This is a time of great change…if we are quick enough.

“But why me? I'm a runt. Why would I be chosen?”

Before Anna could respond, the air shifted suddenly in the hut, and Kesh felt pressure, as if something pushed against his heart. At first, he heard a soft hissing, as if snakes were gathering outside the shack. Then a rumble of growling, the shuffling of hooves, and tails began to twitch and wings and hackles began to rise. The shack rattled as the animals, suddenly alert, shifted nervously and started to push against one another, each sensing something was wrong. Then Muskrat twitched and his tiny eyes grew big as he searched the walls and dark corners for the danger he sensed. “Anna!” he rasped.

The spider gestured with spindly legs, and the terrified muskrat eased back and became silent. The small creature stayed obediently in his spot, while his body shook violently, helpless to do anything about the danger he had seen. Kesh could taste the bitterness of fear and the sting of anger on the tip of his tongue,

Anna turned to Kesh again. “You will need courage, boy. And you will be very, very afraid. Remember, without fear there is no courage. Without fear, there is only bravado. Do you understand?”

Kesh shook his head. “I don't know.” He started to say more, ask more questions, but he was suddenly startled, barking aloud. “Anna! Behind you! Something is there. Look out!”

A dark, oily shape, a billowing black ribbon of smoke, had seeped through the ceiling in the corner above the spider. It curled down slowly toward her, and the small room filled with a low, foreboding hiss. Outside, the other animals had begun to shuffle and push with restless tension, and Kesh sensed such fear that he felt they would panic at any moment. If they stampeded, the smaller creatures and many of the others risked being injured by unrestrained claws, beaks, horns, hooves and teeth.

Anna did not move. “Stay where you are, all of you. You can do nothing for me now. Don't be afraid for me, my dear friends. Shhhh.” Her voice was a soft and soothing breeze, and before long, the restive animals began to settle and quiet. “This,” she said, pointing with a frail leg at the encroaching smoke, “has been foretold in the old prophecies. It was spoken, ‘The air and waters will run with poison.' This is the evil that comes. Kesh, you are the warrior. You will find fear and you will find courage. And you will fight this evil.”

The curling smoke snaked ever closer to the frail spider, filling the corner with a black, hissing stench.

“Muskrat,” Kesh turned to the rodent, “do something.”

“I can't,” he squeaked. There is nothing I can do. There is nothing any of us can do.”

Again, the wind rose softly as Anna spoke. “Don't be afraid for a small spider. Anna is everywhere.” The wind sighed, and the glow began to fade away. Softly the drifting voice whispered, “Now, boy, go home. You have so much work to do, so much to learn.”

 With that, the leading tongue of black evil curled around and enveloped the spider. Her soft green light went dark, and in a moment, the lady was nothing more than a tiny, dried husk, a dead gray spider in the corner of a musty old shack. Then, as quickly as it had come, the black death suddenly dissipated and was gone.

When Kesh was much younger, he had asked his mother if animals could cry. Now he knew.

The forest creatures parted to let Kesh and Muskrat pass, then fell in behind as they made their way up along the trail, a solemn, silent procession. Just behind Kesh's right shoulder strode a giant of a wolf, dark fur fading into tan and gray and, Kesh noted, piercing eyes, one as black as ebony, the other a deep emerald green. “What about him?” Kesh whispered to Muskrat.

Muskrat glanced warily over his shoulder, and Kesh felt him shudder. “Do you mean the wolf?”

Kesh nodded. “Yes, the big guy with the big teeth. Who do you think I mean?”

“He's Michael. To be perfectly accurate, he's a timber wolf. They don't usually get as big as some wolves, but Michael is as big a timber wolf as you'll ever see.” He sighed. “I have to admit, he scares me some.”

“Why?” asked Kesh.

The muskrat snorted. “My boy, the word for ‘appetizer' in wolf language is ‘muskrat.' All of you carnivores make me just a little bit nervous.”

In spite of his sadness, Kesh laughed. “You're kidding?”

Muskrat grimaced. “I don't joke about my mortality.”

 Then quietly, Kesh asked, “What did she mean when she said ‘Anna is everywhere?' I don't understand any of this.”

Muskrat composed himself. “Anna was no different than any other lone wind spider, no stronger, no weaker, and no more important. You see, Kesh, she was just a spider. She could have been killed at any time under a hiker's boot or in the beak of a hungry sparrow. But spiders are not simply single beings, at least not the web makers, and certainly not wind spiders. They are connected through a web that exists across this world and beyond. The spider you knew as Anna was…” He stopped for a moment to consider his answer. “You see, Kesh, she was Anna, complete and whole, yet she was also one tiny molecule of Anna, a billionth of the being we call Anna. Do you understand?”

Kesh nodded. “I actually think I do, at least a little bit. It makes me feel a little better, but not much. Tell me, Muskrat, how did Anna talk through the wind?”

Muskrat sighed. “It's amazing, isn't it – amazing and wonderful. Think about it, lad. Spiders travel on the wind. Their young are carried across oceans and mountains to every part of the world on the back of the wind, and the winds bring food to their webs. They could not exist without the wind, so they have found ways to work together. You see, the spider-nature is woven into the fibers of the world, of wind and tides, mountains, forests, and deserts. Spiders are connected to everything we know, and the best of them, the Annas, are able to manifest great wisdom, but they need a way to do it. So, you see, they have an agreement of sorts with the wind. The wind is the spider's voice. Spiders don't have vocal cords.”

“So what does the wind get out of the agreement?”

“I'm not sure, but Anna once told me that the wind tends to become lonely. Spiders are wonderful company, and even in the strongest hurricane or tornado, they are able to ride along with the wind without suffering harm. She said spiders make very good friends.”

“That can't be true. The wind doesn't think. It's just the wind.”

Muskrat sighed, “Whatever you say.”

Kesh opened his mouth to say something else, but he decided he'd better not. He knew he had a lot to learn.

Kesh was quiet as they made their way down the path and away from the shack. They moved slowly now, as the danger had passed, at least for the moment. Then he said, “Muskrat, is this a dream? I think it has to be a dream, but it doesn't feel like one.”

“Well, my boy, it's difficult to say. It could be, I suppose, and then again, it might not be at all. I thought you knew that.”

“Oh, then it is a dream, just something my brain is imagining. I must be home in bed then.”

“Tell me, Kesh. Does this feel like any dream you've ever had?”

Kesh shook his head. He felt as if he were trapped inside a riddle. “I don't know. It doesn't feel like anything I've ever experienced, but, in another way, it's familiar. You know what I mean? I'm confused by just about everything, and I feel really sad about Anna. And, I'm scared. I just don't know what to think about all of this.”

 “I understand your feelings. Nothing is certain. Listen, Kesh, waking and dreaming seem to be parts of very different worlds, but in truth, there is nothing more than a wisp of smoke separating them. You heard Anna. If you're concerned that this dream is not as real as any waking moment, you need to revisit your waking moments. They don't always feel so real, do they? And in those moments when you are absolutely sure, when the people and things around you are clearly in the waking world, they don't always seem to make sense. Do they?” He added, “Besides, if this is a dream, you have to admit it is a doozy.”

 “So all of this might be a dream, or it might not. Is that what you mean?”

“I do,” squeaked the muskrat, “in a manner of speaking. You see, Kesh, you just might be dreaming, but, then again, you might not.”

Kesh shook his head. “More riddles. I don't know what to think. But, then again, I am talking to a muskrat.” He suddenly stopped, creating a brief animal pileup behind him. “What about my mom and dad? How do I know that they're really okay, and if they are, how am I supposed to tell them about all of this; how am I supposed to tell anyone? Muskrat…” His voice was on the edge, tense, panicky, “I don't think I can do this.”

Muskrat looked up at the young coyote. “Faith, young man. Have faith. I know you can do this.”

They ran on, and gradually the other animals drifted off into the woods or dropped back. A soft howl rose on the trail ahead of them, and Muskrat stopped abruptly, the hair on his back bristling. “What is it?” said Kesh.

“Look.” He gestured with his snout at a creature on the path ahead.

A wolf stood watching them. Kesh whispered, “That's not Michael.”

“No. That is definitely not Michael.” The animal's coat was a dark, metallic gray, and its long and sinewy torso sat atop odd wiry limbs. Its face was narrow, and its eyes glowed softly in the dim early morning light.

“Who is he?”

Muskrat did not move.

Kesh focused on the wolf's eyes. They were strangely familiar. “He seems scared, unsure of himself.”

“I have no doubt that he is,” said Muskrat, “but I do not trust that one.”

“You know him?”

Muskrat let out a low growl, small but clearly meant to indicate his displeasure. “Yes, I know him.”

When Kesh looked back, the strange wolf was gone. “Where did he go? What was that all about?”

Muskrat stared at the place where the wolf had stood for a moment. “Follow me.” In the next instant, Muskrat disappeared into the underbrush. Kesh followed, being sure to keep the small animal's scent close. Moments later, he broke out into the open night and had to pull up to avoid running into the river. Muskrat sniffed the air coming from upstream. “Do you smell that?” He asked.

Kesh felt the bite of a sharp odor in his snout. He had smelled a hint of it before, in the shack. “My God! What is that horrible smell?”

Muskrat said, “That, my boy, is the smell of evil, and you will understand in due time. For now, you know that the one we met on the trail tonight carries this smell. It lives deep inside him, and everything he touches reeks of it. It is the stench of death.” With that, he turned and scurried off along the downstream shoreline as Kesh chased after.

Chapter Five

Awake Again but More Confused than Ever

 

A big hand shook Kesh out of his troubled sleep. He opened his eyes and was greeted by a giant of a man with a brown face and close-cropped jet-black hair and a graying mustache. He was wearing a County Sheriff's uniform. “I'm Officer Wolfe. And you are the remarkable Kesh Jones.” The boy nodded, and the policeman smiled. “Yes, I can see that you are. Your parents have been looking for you all night.”

“My parents are okay? They're really alive?”

The man paused and studied the boy's face. “Unless something has happened to them in the past hour or so, I have to say they're fine. Is there any reason they wouldn't be?” He bent close and looked into Kesh's eyes. “Are you all right son?”

Kesh glanced around. He was alone in the rag man's crude shelter and covered in a thick green blanket. “Yes, sir. I'm okay I guess, just a little confused that's all.”

The officer put his heavy parka over Kesh's shoulder and lifted him out of the hut with strong arms. “After a night out here, I'm not surprised. Come on, young man. I'll take you home.”

Kesh had the urge to push the man away, to fight being lifted and carried. Even though he felt weak and exhausted, he was not about to give in and let his body go limp in the strong arms. He glanced around him from his embarrassing perch. Nobody else was there. Nobody would see him. Still, he was not a child. “Sir?”

“Yes, son?”

“Would you please put me down? I'm cold, confused and I'm pretty hungry, but I'm not a baby. I'm twelve years old, and I can walk on my own.”