The fire went out because I fell asleep and hadn’t kept up with throwing more logs on it even though I had taken the time to pile them nearby. So, I wouldn’t have to move anything but my arm. That turned out to be a good thing because shortly after I woke, I heard a strange noise. As it grew louder, I was able to place it as the throbbing of a circling helicopter.
I struggled up and kicked dirt over the ashes and ran for the deepest part of the hole. The reed mat slammed down behind me and I couldn’t see out. I knew about infrared, that they could use it to find body heat sources. I just hoped that mine would look like another deer or feral hog.
I wasn’t sure if the helicopter was there for me, but my Dad had access to such resources. I couldn’t see it as it flew over; I hoped that the treetops were too thick to allow any of them to scan the ground. They had a huge area to search, the fact that they were close enough to where I hid worried me. Had Crispin left some sign? Had I?
I wished that Crispin was here with me, yet I hadn’t seen or heard him since he had given back control of my body.
“Crispin?” I whispered. “Are you here?”
He gave me no answers, so I assumed that I was on my own. My stomach growled to remind me that if I wanted to eat, I would have to find my own food.
When I was sure that the helicopter was gone, I pushed the door open and came out of the cave to inspect my first attempts at smoked fish.
It was cooked enough. Dried out and chewy like jerky. Didn’t taste like much of anything at all and it really needed salt. I ate all of it which quieted my belly but there wasn’t anything left for lunch or supper.
Watching for anyone or anything tracking me, I went back to look at the snares I’d posted on the game trail. In two of them, I had snagged rabbits. Both were dead, choked out so I brought them back to my campsite. I skinned, gutted and cleaned the pair using the arrowhead. It was not an easy thing to skin and cut, it kept slipping through my grip and nicked my own palm and fingers. I couldn’t tell what was rabbit’s blood, or my own.
I was thirsty. Every time I wanted a drink I had to stop, go to the spring, lay on my belly and suck the water up until I was satisfied. There was no way for me to carry it back to the cave or store it.
Eyeballing the rabbit guts, I decided that the stomachs and bladders were too small to bother with but there were yards of intestines, seven feet or more. If they were good enough for hot dog casings, I could use them too.
It was gross, the smell made me gag but I held them under the running water until they were flushed clean and had no smell. Tied a knot in one end and filled it at the spring. Tied off, it held over a gallon and as long as I handled it carefully, I could carry it back to camp and drink from it. The membrane was thin but flexible, yet if it snagged on something, it would rip. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could do until I found something else.
I was tired. Found myself wanting to nap and since I had no books, television or video games, no smart phone to keep me occupied, sleeping seemed like a good thing to do. Mom said that sleeping was how the body healed and I was pretty sure mine needed a lot of that.
I stretched out on my reed mat, it was more comfortable than I had expected and when I pulled the fur over me, I drifted off within minutes. The other mat I had made for the entrance to the cave I left partly open. Not because it made the cave too warm, but I did not want to have someone sneak up on me while I was asleep and hidden. I didn’t consider how deeply I slept or if I would wake should someone find me.
I slept a long time. Not sure if it was that Crispin had pushed us too far in my condition, if I needed to be on pills I wasn’t getting, not eating enough or just plain too sick to be out of bed yet. When I woke up, I hurt everywhere. My legs, back, ribs. It hurt to breathe. Even my fingers ached. My head pounded along with my heart.
I woke with tears on my face and whimpered as I tried to move. There wasn’t anyone there to bring me pills, rub my aches or kiss and make it better. I woke in a hole under a tree, on the ground. Cold, hungry, and alone. Was it any surprise that I was feeling sorry for myself and acting like a baby? I missed momma. I missed Ballycor and Crispin.
I even missed my Dad. Just a teeny bit. I didn’t want to die alone in this horrid swamp where the mosquitoes made a racket louder than my own heart. Where it was always so steamy that I never felt dry. I was ready to give up and if my Dad had chosen that moment to step in front of me, I would have jumped into his arms.
I cried myself to sleep. Each time I woke, I took a sip of water from the skin. It never seemed to satisfy my increasing thirst. I grew weaker and weaker until it was all I could do to raise my head. My body had run through its reserves, I no longer cared if I lived or died.
There were voices all around me. A babble of sound that assaulted my ears. Men, ladies, kids. In languages some of which I knew and others I had never heard before.
I struggled to open my eyes; I wanted to see who had found me. I was too weak to care that I had been tracked down. I was conscious of many people standing in a mass around me. Hundreds of them yet somewhere in my mind I knew that wasn’t possible. Where I lay hidden was too small for even one other person and certainly none standing. Yet, they were here. Hundreds, maybe a thousand of them.
The ones closest to me were the most vivid and the loudest. Some of them yelled which made me jump but each time the effort exhausted me until eventually, I didn’t even flinch. Finally, one voice came through louder than any of the others. A lady’s voice and when I heard it, my heart shuddered. I forced my eyes open and stared in shock. In total wonder.
I was in the center of a village green, a village of thatched cottages and bark huts where natives and settlers had lived together. Had lived because what I could see of them was transparent – I saw through them. Not only were their spirits here but others I’d never seen before – dressed in clothing all the way from Crispin’s past to my present.
So many spirits were tethered to this land that it scared me. Yet, the voice that I recognized was not tied to this place. She had never been here nor died here. My mother leaned over me and pushed the others back.
She glowed. With an aura that was soft as sunshine. She sparkled as if her skin was made of glitter. I saw no sign of the damage from the accident that had taken her from me. I reached out my hands to hold her.
For a moment, I thought that I had. A fleeting whisper of a touch and then I fell forward onto my side, unable to catch or hold myself up.
“Momma,” I whispered. “Make them be quiet. I can’t rest because they’re too noisy.”
“Cris, my beautiful Cris,” she said. Her eyes were violet stars that warmed me as they lingered on my face. “Get up, Cris. Can you do that for me?” she asked. She leaned forward as if she was going to help me.
I did as she asked. I felt a gossamer touch that gave me just that little extra to help me gain my feet. Once up, the filthy cast kept me upright and stable.
“Now what, momma?” I asked quietly. “Who are all these…people?”
“Spirits of this place. Harbingers your soul has known in past lifetimes. Spirits who have seen what Crispin has experienced since he died two-hundred years ago. Since you died. They all want to help you.”
“Help me how, Mom? Where is Crispin?” I asked wearily. She kissed my forehead. I felt her lips, a warmth that ran like a fever through my blood.
“Help you live, Cris. He is now part of you, you are who he would have been had he lived. He will help you find your way out of this swamp. Help your soul find its peace. Find your real father, the soul of your father where it resides in this time and place.”
“Who is my Dad, Mom? Not Dad, he wants to hurt me and take the money.”
“I know. He is your father in this lifetime, a father by blood but his soul has been reborn many times. In many lifetimes, he has abused, tortured and murdered you. As your father has tried to save you over and over, dying by his own hand or been killed by the one who had murdered you when you were Crispin. Each time he failed to save you, it has played over and over. You have to break the circle to stop it.”
“How?” I despaired. My legs trembled as I stood on them too long.
“Don’t let Tempe kill the man, Matt Eachann. Or kill you. You must save Matt and yourself. First, you must leave the swamp. There are evil men who know where we are, and they are on the way to this place,” she warned. She stepped aside as something large filled the hole she had left behind.
My eyes grew wide in wonder. A horse stood there. A dark bay stallion that I had seen in both my dreams and Crispin’s memories. The real Ballycor.
“Ballycor, your father’s race horse will guide you through this moor. But only until sunrise. After that, he will return to the darkness that is the night of all souls. If you are not safe by then, none of us can aid you.” She paused. “I love you, Cris Snowman. Forever and always.”
“Forever and always, momma,” I whispered, as I limped over to the tall stud horse. Placing my hand on his neck, he felt like cool ivory. The muscles under my hand were moving, yet he was not alive. He dropped to his knees and nudged me with his head.
Sliding onto his back, I straddled what felt like a stone bench. When he surged to his feet, I lurched forward and threw my arms around his solid neck. His mane was thick strands that I could not grab, there was nothing for my hands to hold on.
He loped off, I couldn’t see his hooves in the water. No splashes hit me, no mud slung as he ran on. When I looked back, the clearing was gone, only the trees and the old foundation were left. The spirits faded and the last thing that I could clearly make out was the silent form of my mother surrounded by a silver mist. Then, even that was beyond my view.