[2]Chapter Twenty: He’s Got to Live His Brave Life of Lies
April 13, 2010
Silver City, NM
The wolf was staring at him. It seemed to know he was there, hidden amongst the bushes halfway up the hill. Marc had been careful. He was downwind and there had been no sounds or other tells that could have given away his location, but the wolf still knew that he was there, watching.
Marc kept the animal in his sights with his finger on the trigger of his rifle. After a minute, the wolf turned and ran off to the south, away from the ranch. Marc relaxed, easing his finger off the trigger. He watched for a few more minutes before engaging the custom firing pin safety and placing the rifle down on the blanket he was sitting on.
He had been worried that this was an entry point for coyotes into the ranch, but the appearance of his friend made that unlikely. The coyotes in the area gave the wolf a wide berth and its presence here would keep them away for a while.
Marc would have to check the creek again. There was too much brush and deadwood in the area and that made it an attractive trail to approach the Sturges property.
Picking up the binoculars that were resting on his pack, Marc scanned the area. As expected the area was clear. He could pack up his gear and do a spot check on the fencing before checking out the creek. Before that, however, he took a moment to lay back and enjoy the cool spring breeze blowing across the desert. Soon the temperature would start rising and summer in the New Mexico was almost as bad as the deserts of Sett.
It was odd that after all these years he still had complete recall of every detail of the decades he had spent in the other world. If only his memory of this world was as good. The dissonance between his ability to remember what he ate for breakfast on his last day in Threshis and his inability to remember the appointments he made a few weeks ago without writing everything down was maddening. It was this clarity that had convinced him that it was all real, and not a delusion or mental illness. How could a simple dream give him clear memories of over twice his entire lifetime?
Marc stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He packed up his gear and unloaded, then shouldered the rifle. He then started a quick march to his old pickup parked down off the service road. Compared to his old pace, he was practically crawling, needing to watch out for rattlers and navigate the terrain without any support skills. Still, years of practice and building up his body had yielded good results and he made the three-mile trip back to the truck in just over half an hour.
He secured the rifle and gear in the bed of the truck and jumped into the cab. He was still on Sturges land, so he didn’t have to worry much about thieves, but he still felt a small relief whenever he got back and found the vehicle unmolested by stray rifle rounds or signs of tampering. The truck itself wasn’t very valuable. An old Chevy S-10 that was older than he was. Marc had put in a substantial about of hours to make it roadworthy, but the chassis and body were in good shape, and he preferred when possible to fix things that were serviceable over buying something new.
He drove down the service road until he reached the fence line, then pulled off and started to slowly parallel the barrier, looking for signs of breaks, weaknesses, or debris. Tumbleweeds would sometimes pile up against the fence, and sagebrush could grow shockingly fast and any buildup could attract animals including larger predators.
He spotted a few trouble spots along the way, but nothing he couldn’t take care of himself with the small hand axe he kept with the tools. By the time he finished checking the perimeter, however, it was already getting late, so he put off checking the hills and the creek for another day. The sky was already starting to darken. The downside of being so far North was the shortness of the days during the winter months. He again entertained the idle thought of moving somewhere south, where the weather was warmer and the days were longer. Not that he would do that anytime soon.
It was too late to check out the public library, so he decided to drive back to his cabin. Then he could call the ranch manager and update him on the status of the survey. On the way back, he stopped by a grocery and picked up some steaks for Torren and himself. Plugging his iPod into the sound system, his one luxury upgrade to the vehicle, Marc scrolled to his driving playlist and hit play as he pulled onto the road up to Pinos Altos.
As he pulled up to the cabin, Marc saw the familiar sedan parked out in front. He groaned internally realizing that he had forgotten that Shelia would be stopping by. He cursed his poor memory for the thousandth time and parked the truck next to her car. He quickly stowed his equipment in the shed beside the cabin, then grabbed the bag with the rifle and his groceries and headed inside.
As soon as he entered the cabin he cursed. Sheila had already started a fire. She must have been here for a while then. He skulked inside like a dog with his tail between its legs. Quickly, he put the rifle case into the closet by the door, then dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter and walked over to the couch by the fire.
Shiela looked up from her book with an annoyed look on her face.
“I’m sorry, I got tied up at the Sturges Ranch,” he excused himself lamely.
Shiela just cocked her eyebrow.
“And I forgot. Again. Sorry, Shiela.”
“Marc. When are you going to just give in and get the damned cell phone?” She complained. “I know for a fact I’m not the only one who has trouble getting a hold of you. You have to be the last adult under 80 in Grant County without a proper cellphone.”
“Yeah, I know. I just don’t see the rush. I’m doing fine these days without one.”
Shiela stood up and walked over to the phone by the door. She pushed a red blinking light on the small box connected to the phone by a thin wire.
[You have TWENTY SEVEN unheard messages.]
“I swear! You are worse than my dad, and he’s seventy-five. I thought kids were supposed to be into all these things. You act like an old cowboy, living out here in the hills. It’s not like you are hurting for money or anything.” She scolded.
“Sorry Sheila, I’ll think about it. Just been busy lately,” then Marc tried to deflect.
“Have you seen Torren?” he asked.
“Not since I got here. He must be out hunting,” she admitted.
“Hardly, that lazy slob? I’m sure he’s just sleeping somewhere. He’ll show up as soon as dinner is ready. You’ll stay right?”
“No more rabbit ragout right?” She asked suspiciously.
“Nah, I picked up some ribeyes in town,” he said cheerfully.
“Fine. I’ll let George know he’s on his own tonight,” she said eagerly, already texting away on her iPhone.
Marc went over to the kitchen to start cooking. First, he opened the window over the sink. Within seconds there was a knock on the door.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Just like I said. He won’t show his lazy face until there is food. Could you let him in?” He asked.
Sheila walked over to the door and opened it. In wandered a large grey and white dog as casually as a gambling addict strolling into a casino.
“Hey, Torren! Come here!” Sheila squealed, then went to hug the large furball, only to have him escape her grasp like he was made of quicksilver.
“Hey!” She protested. Then she went back to the sofa and picked up her purse.
“Oh! Um. Torren. I guess you don’t want any treats from Auntie Shiela then.” She reached deep into her cavernous bag and pulled out some dog treats.
Marc once again marveled at the amount of junk she could manage to squeeze into that giant bag. He was sure there was some dimensional storage magic involved. There was no other explanation for her ability to pull out seemingly endless amounts of random objects.
Torren popped his head out and curled up submissively in front of the lawyer.
“That’s a good boy!” She said as the first treat disappeared into the large dog’s mouth. While he chewed, Sheila reached down and got her bear hug in compensation. All the poor animal could do was whimper out a small squeal.
Marc shook his head at the subjugation taking place on his living room rug. He washed his hands, then prepared two large steaks, coating them liberally with salt and pepper. He put a large cast iron pan on the propane stovetop and splashed on some olive oil, then dug around in the refrigerator for some vegetables to chop up into a simple salad.
As soon as the pan started to smoke, Marc dropped in the steaks, along with some garlic, herbs, and a spoonful of lard. While it cooked, he expertly washed and chopped up the vegetables, then put them into a large bowl on the side. Flipping the steak, he basted the meat ensuring the herbs infused the crust of the steak. Then he quickly mixed some lemon juice, soy sauce, and sesame oil to make a simple salad dressing and mixed up everything in the salad bowl.
Cutting the gas to the stove, he placed the steaks onto a cutting board to rest, then quickly sliced off two large pieces of the jalapeño cornbread he had made the day before and wrapped them in parchment paper before placing them in the not empty pan and covering them so that they could warm up using the residual heat.
Finally, he placed two more raw steaks on a plate and placed them on the floor by the fire. With a yelp, Torren extricated himself from the attentions of Shiela and slid over to the meat, snapping up one happily.
“Some guard dog. He’s more of an escape artist than anything else. They say cats are made of water, but this guy could squeeze out of a toothpaste tube.” Shiela griped.
“Hear that Torren? Shiela thinks you’re trash at being a protector too.” Marc taunted the dog, who looked briefly at Marc before returning to gnaw on his steak.
Marc washed his hands again, then plated the salad, sliced up the steak, and took the now-warm cornbread out of the pan. He brought over the plate to Shiela on the sofa, along with a single wine glass. He placed the glass on the small end table by her, then handed her the plate with food. Stopping by the refrigerator to pull out the bottle of white wine that Shiela left the last time she visited and a can of Coke, he grabbed a knife, a fork, and a pair of chopsticks.
He unscrewed the bottle of wine and poured out a half glass. Setting the bottle down, he grabbed his own plate and sat next to Shiela on the sofa. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since he had started cooking.
“You really should just open your restaurant. How did you learn how to cook like that” Sheila said while digging into her food. Then she gave him an incredulous look as Marc started to eat his own food with the chopsticks.
“And who eats steak with chopsticks? When did you ever go to Asia anyway?”
Marc looked down at his plate.
“Chopsticks are the best way for eating salad. Once you start eating it this way, you’ll never go back.” Marc said smugly, expertly grabbing a slice of tomato, wrapping it in a sliver of lettuce, and effortlessly popping it into his mouth.
“You are such a weird kid. You know that right?” Shiela sighed, then speared another piece of steak on her fork and greedily devoured it.
“But I’ll be damned, if you don’t cook the best steak. I don’t much cater to the roadkill stews, but this is better than any of the steakhouses in town, and this is a beef county.” She said nodding.
They continued to eat, the only break in the silence was when Shiela reached to grab the bottle and Marc reminded her that he didn’t want to have to drive her back into town.
After they finished dinner, Shiela helped him gather the plates and dried off everything as he washed the dishes.
“So as you can see, everything is fine. I’m healthy, Torren is healthy and as lazy as ever. I assume the books are all in order? Everything good with the payments from the ranches?” Marc got into the business part of the visit.
“Everything is good. Your expenses are so low, your accounts continue to grow even without investing. That was a neat trick. You know how much of a hit I took back in the subprime kerfuffle. You actually came out of that looking like a genius.” She said bitterly.
Marc looked at her with a worried expression.
“Oh, don’t you worry. We’re fine. I’m not so naive that I would get knocked down so easily. But we had to give up that cruise. George was the one who wanted to go. I’d probably get seasick and spend the whole trip in the cabin while that Lothario chased after all the girls by the pool. So no big loss.” She cackled.
“Anyway, your payments from the ranches are all good except the Cutter’s. They’re still overdue for the last two months. I think it’s-“
Marc cut her off.
“I know. They lost a whole herd to some kind of accident? Have you heard anything about that?” He asked.
“Oh! Um. Well. You know, the gossip is it was some kind of freak weather thing. Over two hundred and fifty sheep turned into mulch in a single night. The weirdest thing. There wasn’t even a storm or anything that night, but nothing makes sense, though some of the local kids said they saw strange lights over the fields that night.” She said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“You don’t suppose…”
“Little green men?” Marc replied dryly. “That’s a Roswell thing.”
Shiela chuckled nervously.
“Yeah, well it sure wasn’t predators. Not even a bear could do that much damage. So no one would even think it’s your fault. Even Trey Cutter said it was some freak tornado or something. I can push him-“
“No, it’s fine. Tell him we can wait for payment till he gets the ranch back into the black. Let him know that I’ll keep monitoring his lands too, so he doesn’t have to worry about that either.”
Shiela looked doubtful.
“It’s fine. I’m not hurting for the money and he should get all the support possible until he can to get things back on track. Pushing him down now might do nothing but cost me a customer.” Marc said firmly.
Shiela smiled, then put down the dishtowel and reached up and ruffled the top of his head like she had been doing to Torren earlier.
“You’re a good boy.” She beamed. Marc looked back at her nonplussed glancing at the dog who was now sleeping in front of the fireplace.
“A weird one though. Ha!” She laughed as she went back over to the couch. She dug through her purse and pulled out a folder which she placed on the side table.
“Here’s the copy of your account statements. Everything is in good shape. You’re already net positive on the account from where you were before you bought this land.”
Marc nodded. It was thanks to Shiela’s help that he had managed to organize everything from his ranch consulting and his blacksmithing commissions into a profitable business. He had to look into how much one of those cruises was and see if he could send her and her husband on a well-deserved vacation.
“Oh! Um. Yeah, there was something else.” Sheila said as she dug back into her magical purse. She pulled out a newspaper.
“I know you like to stay all cut off from the rest of the world up here in your mountain retreat, but I thought you might find this interesting.” She said handing him the newspaper.
“Remember that woman you asked me to try and look up? Well of course we never found anything. That worthless P.I. El Paso never found a single lead.”
Marc’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman.
“Well, it was all dead ends, but then suddenly I saw this article in the paper,” she said as she pointed to an article below the fold.
“I thought you might find it interesting is all. This doesn’t have anything to do with the woman you were looking for, but the name is the same. Not exactly a rare name, but I saw it this morning so I brought the paper with me.”
Marc quickly scanned the article.
“April 13, 2010, Salt Lake City,
KamiGames CEO Announces Launch Date for the Highly Anticipated Mobile Game ‘Pl@y3r’.”
“Mary Lopez, the recently installed new CEO of KamiGames has finally announced the launch date for the most anticipated game of 2010, the mobile MMORPG ‘Pl@y3r’ which has been in beta testing for several years already. Once looked at as yet another vaporware project, progress has accelerated since Lopez took the reins of the beleaguered tech company. Announcing that the new game would “change the way we look at games and the world!” Lopez touted the ability to leverage current smartphones to interact with virtual monsters and other players through advanced augmented reality technology. The free-to-play game is expected to become a runaway hit once it officially launches globally on July 20, 2010…”
“I know you don’t play games, but I spent so much time looking for that needle in a haystack that I couldn’t help but do a double-take when I saw that name.” Shiela was down on the ground resting her head on the lazy dog like a pillow.
The picture was small and of poor quality. A blurry woman stood on a stage pointing at a large presentation screen showing a character with a sword attacking a giant wolf-like animal.
Marc focused on the woman in the picture. As bad as the photograph was, there was no mistaking it. It was her. Mary Lopez. The paper twisted in his hands as he unconsciously tightened his grip.
He had found Mary.