Shaman, Healer, Heretic (14 page)

“Filthy witch,” yelled the one in front, as he landed a quick punch to her mid-section.

The air escaped her in a rush as she doubled over. The guy on her left let go, and she swung sideways without equal support, coming down on one knee. The car alarm was blaring in the confined carport but she was barely hearing it, barely hanging on to consciousness as the pain of the blow sapped the rest of her body’s ability to move.

“Hey!” said one of them. “Somebody’s coming.”

The other hands let go, and she started to sink, sliding down against the wall until a hand around her throat stopped her.

“I’ll be coming for you, shaman,” he said, breathing in her face as he squeezed his fingers tighter. “You better not be here when I get back.”

He shoved her head back, and it hit the wall with a thump. As she slid to the ground, she saw their feet retreating before her eyes closed.
 

BY THE TIME the paramedics arrived, she was able to sit up. As they approached, the woman who had helped her stood up and rejoined the small crowd that had assembled in the alley. Livvy tried to stand up as well.

“No, just hold on for a second,” said the paramedic in front as he eased her slowly back to the ground. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Livvy,” she said, grunting as she sat down. “I mean Olivia.”

“Good, Livvy, do you have a last name?”

“Lawson.”

“Olivia Lawson,” said the paramedic. “Good. Can you tell me where you live?”

A police car slowly rolled into the alley and came to a stop in front of the crowd.

She gave her address.

“Are you in any pain?” asked the paramedic.

Livvy recognized him then.

“You’re the guy from the hospital,” she said, weakly.

He smiled a gorgeous smile.

“That’s right,” he said, still smiling but moving his hands down her arms feeling for any broken bones. “Your memory’s all right.”

His partner put a pressure cuff around one of her arms and inflated it.

“How many fingers do you see?” said the paramedic.

“Two,” she said.

The police officer came over with Livvy’s bag and a clipboard.

“Real good,” said the paramedic. He took a small pen light out of his pocket. “Follow the light for me,” he said as he pointed it between her eyes and then moved it off sideways. “Good,” he said, going back to the center. “Again,” he said, going in the other direction.

“Blood pressure and heart rate are normal,” said the other paramedic. “No sign of concussion?”

“No sign of concussion,” said the first paramedic, who looked back down to her. “Do you want to try standing?”

She nodded yes.

“All right, let’s have you sit on the edge of the ambulance for a bit. We’re going to help you up, so try not to go too fast. We’re going to take it nice and slow.”

As she stood up, she wobbled for a second or two, but with one paramedic under each arm, they helped her over to the back of the ambulance, and she sat down on the bumper. There was an even larger crowd now. She looked at them nervously, wondering if the punks were still here, but she didn’t recognize anybody.

“Can you tell me what happened?” asked the police officer.

She recounted the story and the police officer asked questions, but there was little information she could supply in the way of descriptions. Then, when she got to the part where they had called her “shaman scum”, the police officer’s attitude cooled noticeably.

As the officer made notes, the paramedic took her pulse again.

“Looks like you’ve got a bump on the back of your head and bruising on your throat,” he said. “You know, you’re lucky it wasn’t worse than that. Much worse.”

The officer tore off a carbon copy of the form he’d been filling out and handed it to her.

“Walking down an alley at night in this neighborhood is asking for trouble,” he said.

The second paramedic packed up their boxes and put them into a side compartment on the ambulance. It felt like getting tossed out of the hospital–except for the fact that her attackers could be around the next corner.

“They said they’d be back,” she said as she took the paper and stood up. “They might know where I live.”

“I doubt it,” said the cop, handing her bag over. “They left your wallet, your phone, and that pair of goggles in there.”

He held it out like it was diseased. She took the bag as the second paramedic came around to the back.

“All set?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” said the cop. Without a glance at her, he folded up his clipboard and turned toward his car.

“I guess so,” said Livvy as she looked through the bag.

Everything was there, of course. They hadn’t intended to rob her. As she watched the cop go back to his car, she wondered if the report would even get filed. He got in and drove away, dispersing what was left of the crowd as he did.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” said the paramedic after they’d watched the cop drive away.

It made Livvy laugh. It hurt her stomach, but she laughed anyway. She looked at him and, even in the dimness, realized that his skin was olive colored, his short hair jet black and straight. His dark eyes were smiling but focused on her with an intensity that made her feel suddenly shy.

“You should try that more often,” he said. “That whole smiling laughing thing looks good on you.”

She was glad for the relative darkness now since she knew she must be blushing a bright red. The engine on the ambulance started up, distracting him. When he looked back, he was serious.

“Are you headed home now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she lied.

“Good. Just stay out of alleys, okay?”

“Promise,” she said.

He stared at her for a few moments.

“All right, I’ve got to go.”

He looked as though he wanted to say more.

“Please be careful,” he said.

“I will.”

As he walked back to the ambulance, Livvy headed for the street. A few stragglers watched her warily as she passed. As she slung the messenger bag over her shoulder, the ambulance rolled past her, and she saw the paramedic looking at her through the window. He gave a quick wave and then was gone.

Livvy hurried the remaining distance to the sidewalk. Not only did she want to get out of the alley, she was now at least an hour late for her appointment.
 

THE WOMAN’S GOGGLES buzzed to life in the dark room. They weren’t tuned quite right, but the imbalance wasn’t a problem. After all, she didn’t have to wear them. The buzzing was annoying, not lethal, especially not for the creatures that would be using it.

The woman sipped her margarita from a tall, crystal highball glass with a wedge of lime at the edge. As she waited for the rest of the electronics to warm up, she tasted the salt at the rim.

“Good,” she said, nodding.

She padded around the new condo, very pleased as her toes dug into the thick carpet. Maybe tomorrow she’d do more furniture shopping or get a bread maker for the kitchen.

Unfortunately, there was no view from this room. Not only had she drawn the vertical blinds closed, she had taped cardboard over the glass. From the bedroom, you could see the lights of the city stretching out to the distance and eventually the ocean. In the living room, she had to be careful.

As the electronics warmed up, the buzzing got louder. She went back to the table where the goggles lay and tweaked a small knob on the side. They were almost completely disassembled. Instead of the black molded plastic that looked like bulky sunglasses, the components and wires were spilling out. The thin multicolored leads went to a small box, about a foot square and three inches deep on the table next to the goggles. It had a home-built look, plain gray metal with pre-cut holes that could be punched out. Most of the openings had small toggle switches and dials in them. Others had LED indicators of various colors.

When the buzzing didn’t stop, she reached over and adjusted one of the controls on the housing, turning it ever so slightly as she sipped.

“Come on,” she said, coaxing it.

It quieted down.

“Good,” she said.

As she watched, the first small bulb flared on. She turned away again, skating a slow and wide arc through the living room.

She glanced back and saw that the second lamp was on. On the other side of the makeshift controller, a bunch of wires that were tie-wrapped together ran off the end of the table and then along the floor over to the nearby wall.

At the baseboard, the cable split into two equal bundles that went right and left. Then they both shot straight up to the ceiling about eight feet apart. There they made reverse right angles and met again in the middle at a much smaller metal box. It had no switches or controls but it had LEDs, and the first one was on. A faint luminescence began to grow on the wall below it, eventually filling most of the frame created by the cables. She looked back to the goggles and saw that the lenses were glowing. The dark glass coverings had been removed, the mirrors reversed, and the prisms repositioned such that symbols on the tiny movie screens inside bounced off the mirrors and were projected on the wall.

The second of the three control lamps brightened on the table. When she looked up, she saw the LED there had turned on as well.

“Let the show begin,” she said as she took a seat in an overstuffed leather chair, the ice cubes tinkling.

Finally, the last indicator on both boxes blazed to life, as did the animated projection. She watched as the iconic symbols of the transition between worlds floated like giant amoebas. The reds, yellows, and oranges weren’t as intense as when wearing the goggles, but they were still there, morphing and changing, becoming indistinct.

As the symbols disappeared, a brilliant white light replaced them. It was so bright that it illuminated the entire room. She squinted from her seated position, took a sip, and waited to see who came through tonight.

“You never know,” she whispered.

As if she had commanded it, the light on the wall seemed to ripple and the snout of an animal protruded from it but then disappeared.

She laughed. The big animals were always the most timid. The snout came through again and then the entire face of a grizzly bear.

“Wow,” she said.

Judging from the size of the head, it was a giant. Slowly it pushed through, looking left and right with its bright red eyes. The reddish brown hair on its head spread outward from its face and eventually its ears emerged. As it came forward, its head held low, it seemed to grow as more of its enormous body became visible. Its giant paws nearly had to lie on their sides because of the long curving claws underneath.

Raising its head up, it sniffed the absent wind and finally looked down to where the shaman was sitting. It made a loud snuffling sound, puffing its cheeks and baring its teeth.

“Cheers,” she said, raising her glass in salute.

Satisfied, it moved forward, emerging in its entirety. It was indeed a giant. Had it decided to stand on its hind legs, it would have gone through the ceiling. Even on all fours, it dwarfed everything in the room.

Walking faster, it traversed the living room in a few steps and then exited through the far wall, off into the night. She stood up, went over to the electronics and hovered her hand over them–too warm. The bigger ones always took their toll on the equipment. It was time to shut down. As she flipped the toggle switches, the projection died and the indicator lamps turned off in order. Soon, the room was in darkness.

“Very good,” she said and finished the last of the margarita.

ALTHOUGH THIS NEIGHBORHOOD was way better than her own, Livvy couldn’t stop checking over her shoulder as she walked up the steep driveway to the front door. The bus stop had only been two blocks away, behind her on the main street. It had all been well lit and there was plenty of traffic, but the pulsing at the back of her head and her bruised stomach were a constant reminder to keep her eyes open.

Roger answered the front door.

“Livvy, come in. Thanks for coming.”

She had called from the bus to let them know she’d be late, and they had been grateful that she’d still make her appointment.

“Honey, Livvy’s here,” he called up the stairs. Turning back to Livvy, he said, “Brad’s downstairs, as usual.”

Margaret came down the stairs, taking off her reading glasses. She was always working, the head of her own corporate law firm with major movie studio clients. Their lovely home in the hills, and another in the Cayman Islands, was the result of her hard work.

“Livvy,” she said, coming over and giving Livvy a small hug. “Good to see you.”

When she pulled back, she studied Livvy’s face.

“Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

“No,” said Livvy, trying to sound casual. “Just a little tired this week.”

She had learned some time ago that clients, when they asked how you were, didn’t really want to know. They had their own problems, which is why they had called.