March Forth (The Woodford Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

David

              David had been traveling toward the glow in the sky for what seemed like a very, very long time.  He had walked and walked until he came to a pile of icy, black rocks, which he had started to climb.  He had been climbing for hours, now; the pile was much larger than it appeared.  As he climbed, he realized it could really be called a mountain.

              The glow now appeared to be coming from just over the peak.  He tried to ignore the frigid cold as he rose slowly, handhold by handhold, foothold by foothold.  It was slippery with ice, and terribly slow going, but he persevered. 

              Finally, after hours of slow, suffering progress, he reached up a hand to find his next handhold and found what felt like warm sand.  He looked around at the icy rocks to which he clung and thought vaguely that warm sand wouldn’t fit in this scenario.

He reached up as far as he could, bringing both hands to the top of the rock and immersing them in the warm sand, then he pulled the rest of his body up.  It took every ounce of strength in his freezing, exhausted body, but he succeeded and found himself laying on a stretch of warm, golden sand.  For a while, he just lay there, enjoying the warmth and catching his breath.

              When he felt able to do so, he rolled onto his side and noticed there was a long stretch of smooth, black road at the end of the sand.  On the other side of the road was more sand, being kissed by the incoming tide of beautiful, azure ocean waves.  He admired the view for a few moments, before pulling himself into a standing position.

              As he stood, he noticed a gorgeous, gleaming, brand new motorcycle standing where the sand met the road.  He grinned as he ran toward it, knowing his keys would be in the ignition.

Deanna

              Deanna had no idea how the Broom actually worked, but she had seen Steven and Larsen use theirs multiple times.  It appeared to be as simple as pushing a button.  She closed her eyes, pictured home, and pushed the button, praying all the while that it was as simple as it had looked.

              A wave of vertigo, then all-consuming cold.  She stumbled on snowy, slippery ground as she opened her eyes, which put her directly in the path of four young men who were walking toward her.  She stared at them, wide eyed and terrified, wondering where she was.

              “Get out the way,” she heard one of the young men mutter.  She looked around, wildly.  Everything was covered with snow, piles of it, as if there had been a blizzard which was shoveled and plowed off to the sides, then more snow started falling.  The piles of snow left a very narrow walkway, which was, itself, slippery with freshly falling snow.

              “Hey, it’s your world, lady, we’re just living in it,” another young man said, with a snarky tone, and then the four of them pushed past her.  She heard them laughing as they walked away, leaving her sitting in a pile of snow.

             
As she took stock of her surroundings, she realized she was actually standing between two buildings.  She glanced upwards and saw familiar trellises, now white and sparkly with snow and icicles, and a sob of relief escaped her.  She was in Woodford.  She was in the walkway that led to the laundromat, the same place where she had met the robed man mere days earlier.  It seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

              She hadn’t planned on stealing Steven’s Broom.  She had not been able to sleep at all, so she spent the whole night meditating.  She had simply kept her mind clear.  When thoughts arose, she focused on feeling free and safe, and on the awareness that she could overcome any situation.  She extended her awareness out into the universe and repeated affirmations all night long.

As the result of all of that, she had felt much calmer by the time Steven entered the room.  However, his presence reminded her of the reality of the situation which she faced, and she was terribly overtired; perhaps that’s why she had wept.

              When he hugged her, she felt deeply uncomfortable.  She did not want him to hold her; she did not want to share a moment of intimacy with someone she had come to think of as one of the bad guys.  However, as she moved to push him away, she felt the Broom in his pocket, and suddenly everything made sense.

              It had been a purely impulsive move, but it seemed to have worked.  She was back in her hometown.  She was freezing and sorely underdressed for the weather, but she was HOME.

              “But I’ve got to keep moving,” she thought.  “They’ll be after me in seconds.”

              She decided to stop at her apartment and dress a bit more appropriately for the weather while figuring out her next move.  As she turned to walk that way, the morning sun glinting off the snow blinded her for a moment.  She nearly walked into the tall man who was walking toward her.

              “Deanna,” he said.  “Twice in one week.”

              Blinking up at him through watery eyes, Deanna realized the tall man was Louis Miller.  She was too cold and preoccupied to feel particularly bothered by that fact.

              “Oh hi, Lou,” she murmured distractedly,   She decided she had better grab sunglasses at her place, too; being blinded by snow just wouldn’t do if she was to be running from the organization guys.

              Louis stared down at her for a moment before saying, “New pajamas?”

              “Oh….,” she said, looking down at herself as if she was unaware of what she was wearing, “yeah, something like that.”

              “Look, Deanna, are you okay?  I mean, it’s freezing out.  What the hell are you doing out, dressed like that?” Louis looked genuinely concerned.  Deanna would have been crushed by embarrassment at any other time.  However, at any other time, she would not have been distracted by the possibility of imminent capture by a secret, magical government organization.  As it was, she was trying to look around him and see Main Street, to make sure none of the organization guys were waiting there. 

              “Yeah, I’m fine,” she mumbled.  “Just having a rough morning.”

              As she peered around him, she noticed the robed man she had met the other day standing on the other side of Main Street.  He appeared to be staring right at her.  When he saw her spot him, he grinned widely and began walking across the street toward her.

              “Is there anything I can do?” Louis said quietly.  As he spoke, Deanna’s eyes were on the robed man.  She tried to focus on what Louis was saying, but as the robed man walked across Main Street, several cars drove through him as if he weren’t even there.  It was very much like when Barb the librarian had walked through Steven; no flash, no sound, the cars just went right through the robed man.  She inhaled sharply, causing Lou to turn around and try to spot what she was looking at.  He showed no signs of noticing anything out of the ordinary.

              “You’re not seeing this at all, are you,” she said flatly, glancing up at him, then back to the robed man.  She already knew the answer to her question.

              “Deanna, seriously, how can I help?” Louis put his hand on her arm.  She glanced up at him and snorted a humorless laugh.

              “I don’t know, Lou.  I don’t even know what day it is,” she said with a sigh, her eyes locked on the robed man.  He had paused in his approach, and now stood about ten feet away, grinning at her.  As she watched, he extended an arm toward her and beckoned her closer.

              “March forth,” Lou said, encouragingly.  Baffled, she looked up at him, trying to figure out if he could now see the robed man.  Seeing only concern in his face, she looked back at the robed man, who nodded encouragingly and waved her closer.

              “March forth,” Lou said again. 

              Though she didn’t understand where his encouraging words were coming from, she chose to believe it was a sign. With no small amount of trepidation, she nodded in response, then walked slowly and uncertainly toward the robed man.  It seemed to be her only real option.

Louis

Louis Miller had been on his way to meet with his AA sponsor when he ran into Deanna.  Life was largely going well.  He had four months sober under his belt since his last relapse.  He was feeling good about himself… well, better than he had in a while… and work was going well.  A recent press release had garnered some media attention for the bar, and there hadn’t been an empty seat in the house for two weeks now.

Sometimes, though, his tendencies toward self-punishment spawned thoughts too loud to ignore, and last night had been one of those times.  He had scheduled a meeting with his sponsor this morning so he could talk himself down off the metaphorical ledge.

Seeing Deanna was definitely not on his agenda.

He had no problem with Deanna herself; actually, he liked her very much.  However, when she had left the BitterSweet, she had been going through a rough time and things between them had gotten messy.  He had been too caught up in his own issues to try to help her deal with hers.  He still didn’t feel mentally or emotionally able to reach out to her, although the sight of her outdoors in winter in light pajamas definitely raised some concerns in his head.

“Don’t say anything, don’t get involved,” he told himself.  “I need to take care of myself.  I’m in no position to try and take care of anyone else.”

He told himself that, over and over, but Deanna’s bizarrely erratic behavior was really getting to him.  She was barely even making eye contact; she kept looking around him, wide eyed, toward Main Street.  When he glanced to see what she was looking at, he saw nothing of interest — just the usual Main Street activity.  His mild concern for her mental state was starting to become full blown alarm.

He found himself asking her if there was any way he could be of help to her, even as he cursed himself for being stupid enough to utter the words.  “I am NOT in a position to help her, dammit,” he thought.  He felt relieved that she ignored his question, but certainly not reassured about her well-being when she said, expressionlessly, “You’re not seeing any of this, are you.”  It was as if she were acknowledging that she may be hallucinating, and seemed quite used to it.  Lou found himself biting his lip; he really wished he were in a better place, mentally, and that he knew just the right thing to say.

“Deanna, seriously, how can I help?” he found his mouth blurting as his mind cursed it for doing so.

“I don’t know, Lou.  I don’t even know what day it is,” she answered, her eyes fixed on an apparently arbitrary spot in the air behind him.

He felt a moment’s relief.  That, at least, he could help with.  “It’s March fourth,” he said.

She looked at him as if he had just uttered a spell in Sanskrit and whispered, “What?”

“It’s….March…..fourth,” he repeated, slowly, then watched as she stumbled past him toward Main Street.  He watched her walk toward the road, momentarily concerned that she was going to walk out into traffic.  Then, suddenly, she was gone.

He figured he must have blinked and missed her turning the corner.  He dearly hoped she would be alright.  He wished he could run after her and say just the right thing to help her get it together.

As it was, though, he turned on his heel and walked away, as fast as he could.  He really needed to talk to someone, and his sponsor was waiting.

Steven

              He sat in the tiny cell that had been designed for Deanna, staring at his reflection in the glass, wondering how he had gotten there.

              A nagging voice in the back of his mind said he should have listened to his doubts about Larsen’s plan to break Deanna down and wipe away part of her brain. Some voice inside of Steven had said that it was the wrong thing to do, but he had of course ignored it.  He knew better than to question orders.  His orders always upheld the greater good, even when he didn’t understand them.

              He knew in the core of his soul that that was the case.  He was not, after all, a bad person.  He had never done anything really WRONG.  He had always just done the best he could with what life gave him.  Life had given him the organization, and everything became so much easier.  He had a purpose, and that purpose was to uphold the greater good.  All he had to do in order to fulfill that purpose was to follow his superior’s orders, and those orders had been to bring Deanna breakfast and be nice to her.

              Since that was the case – that he had been following orders, and his orders upheld the greater good – answering the question, “How did I get here?” was pretty easy: he had gotten there because Deanna was a bitch.

              She had used her feminine wiles, and such.  She had made a fool of him.

              Larsen had been right to treat her like he had, and to want to wipe her brain.  Clearly, she was a terrible person.

              As he let his anger grow, he realized how comforting it was.  Being angry at Deanna alleviated his fears about Larsen’s imminent reaction to the situation, and any doubts he had about their role in causing her to flee.  It all seemed so simple, now.

Deanna was a bad person. 

He, Steven, had just been following orders.

The orders he followed had been intended to make the world, and in fact Deanna herself, better.

None of this, then, was his fault.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to figure out how to explain that to Larsen.