CYCLE TWO: MIND
FALLING EQUINOX
Chapter XIV
THE GODS OF GHOST RIVER
“An attempt at visualizing the Fourth Dimension:
Take a point, stretch it into a line, curl it into a circle, twist it into a sphere, and punch through the sphere. ”
- Albert Einstein, Unknown
… A stranger in my own story… Grooves etched in time, the invisible paths we all follow each day and into eternity, my place within them becoming more and more perceptible. Caged by the lines, by purpose that never was my own, set in motion long before Dizzy’s fateful night, long before the sweetest of childhood memories, long before the concept of my own existence was even a whisper. A chilling thought… Clarity… the pieces falling into place, mom’s fear of the rez, driven by a sober awareness of what awaits in the wild places. The Mistwalker stalking the darkness, biding her time to claim her prize… A life for a life, mine in exchange for mom’s. A pact she never consented to, yet found herself bound, as strong as the laws of physics itself.
Once lost to my youth, the night of my dad’s departure, I consider the conversation that likely tore my family apart. The truth, something mom could no longer bear alone. Her dread… the impending loss of her first born and the terrible purpose of my little brother, Darion… a replacement if Navan’yu took my life.
What was he to think? Best case, the woman he loves is pathologically insane, a danger to her children… or worst case… his boy, destined to be a lamb for slaughter to an unfathomable Great Spirit. Too much weight for one man to bear… he fled… A choice I can empathize with, yet never forgive.
The Invariable Of Our Age…
Those words of the Mistwalker bother me, in the ambiguity they strike. Invariable could mean so many things, but the most likely describes the fixed nature of that moment in time, fate. A little over a week since the revelation of my dire future, my mind continues to spin. Mopping the floor of the Nautilus, becoming a grotesque act, for what does any of this matter if nothing belongs to me, not even a will of my own? Even as the air gains more bite and the shadows grow longer, the onset of my favorite season, the bitterness within me reigns without measure. The leaves, through the gas station’s glass panes, turn to crisp burnt orange with withering chlorophyll aglow in the harsh angle of autumn light. Even the brush, on my drives to work, paint the desert in vibrant color… that last breath of life before winter’s promise of death takes hold on the land.
Defeated, I’m torn between crippling anxiety and the unnatural warmth within my chest, unsure if I can remain in this state for much longer. I’ve faced my own mortality, what do I have to lose if I confront Navan’yu again? Contemplating this, I subconsciously keep an eye on yet another beer-gut endowed truck driver, as he exchanges a pile of change for spicy chips; a luminous thread, much like my own, snakes a path that the man will follow unknowingly without question… without choice. The strange strings of invisible photons create rivers of light that dance before me, as I watch customers ebb and flow through the store. Occasionally, flocks of migrating birds flying southward pursue their own lustrous strands of time. Leaning against the pristine glass counter of the Nautilus, tracking the current, the trajectory of the universe unfolding in this… the most ordinary of moments. Sometimes there’s a growing pit in my gut, maybe someday… the radiance will blind me.
Most lines guide the travelers to normal places, the highway, down Main Street, or for the regulars, home. Yet sometimes, these paths, trapped beyond the tangible, carry strange hues, rust or crimson, threads that have a sickening quality…. And sometimes, a thread loses its luster, fading to dull silver or grey, meanings which are lost to me, only relegated to speculation. Today it’s Al, preceded by a softening string, wispy and featherlike, his leather tanned expression sunny, carrying his usual bag of hard toffee and a cola.
“How’s things, Al?” disguising my concern.
“Can’t complain, weather’s nice! Gotta game of Hand and Foot with the boys this afternoon,” a cracked smile crosses his wizened face.
“I’m more of a dominos guy, myself.”
“Well, then I formally challenge you to a game,” Al beams at me.
“You’re on! I have a half-day on Fridays. You better be there,” I laugh.
“Does a bear shit in the woods? You bet your bottom dollar I’ll be here!”
“See you next week then, or sooner!” I wave to him as I watch him leave, his left hip giving his gait an extra tired pull.
Bobbi pushes up to the counter eyeing me, “Dominos eh?”
“Yeah, Darion and I used to play, pretty competitively too… Until, I’d let him win,” I wink.
“That’s some older brother energy right there. Bet you’re excited to have a real challenger!”
“You know what? I kind of am! I bet Al will kick my ass.”
Pondering my imminent defeat at the hands of Al, Bobbi retreats to his task in the corner, his stocky frame perched on an industrial step stool, gripped in an epic battle to clean the nozzles of the soda dispenser. The rhythmic flapping of his synthetic candy apple red work shirt becoming as natural as the hum of the coolers against the current of the A/C unit.
“Corporate needs to get on this shit,” Bobbi grumbles, “This model has always been impossible to clean. I swear the old machine was a hundred times better, and the fuckers replaced it with some real garbage. Well, no one’s getting sick on my watch, no fucking way.”
Chuckling to myself… Bobbi, always so professional when customers are about, but as soon as the store is vacant, he becomes a loose tap of cursing. I doubt the cameras in here have sound, but, deep down, if they did I get the feeling Aria would listen in on Bobbi’s grumpy rants with undiluted amusement. She’s good people, good people get it.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“I vow on the old ones, if they ever replace this damn hunk of junk, I’m gunna take it outside and take a shotgun to it…” he pauses, “Then set it on fire… then blow it up.”
“I’d go in on that,” I double over in laughter, “… and so would Red Feather. I mean fuck man, she would probably run that thing down with her motorcycle.”
Bobbi glances at the clock on the wall, “Hey, you’re out. You’re still covering for me tomorrow morning right? Since I got rez duties.”
“Yeah, I got you.”
He nods as I gather my change of clothes and hit the bathroom. The stalls coated in a veneer sharing the same electric shade of scarlet as my work shirt, their acrylic coating flawless. Bobbi insists we repaint the stalls once every six months… honestly, I’ve never seen a gas station as well run as this Nautilus, the porcelain spotless, no lingering pungent odors of mildew. A feeling I’ve held for a long while now, the White Fox family is something special, builders, creators, and maintainers, never letting anything slip… the care they put into their lives extending to the people surrounding them. Slipping into my bison t-shirt, a pair of very long oversized charcoal basketball shorts, and the new beanie gifted by Bobbi, before retreating from the bathroom. Giving my old friend one last wave, he answers with a grunt and mumbles something about his foe, the soda dispenser.
Peew-doo!
The desert air wafts cool and breezy against the hairs of my neck… wishing to hold onto this moment for an eternity. With tourist season over, Vermillion returns to the sleepy little town it was always meant to be, the roads devoid of traffic in the mid afternoon. Inserting my keys into my thirty something year old rusty muscle car, I contemplate whether I should try to patch the holes eaten through its frame. I really love this thing, a true classic, but I really don’t have the cash to give it the attention it deserves. At the very least, she needs a proper name, but I struggle to come up with one better than Baby Cakes… I don’t dare say that one aloud, Bobbi would never let me live it down. I settle into the cracked leather seats, finding myself in a moment of repose, clarity infecting my brain.
An impulse tickling at the back of my neck… I have to confront Navan’yu… nothing to lose… everything to gain. FUCK, I don’t want to… the apprehension sticking in my throat. Without oblation… it seems disrespectful to not offer anything to the great black beast, with my inevitable path bound to hers. No, I can’t risk arriving empty handed, I return to the Nautilus.
Peew-doo!
“Bobbi, do we still have the sage and sweet grass bundles that Auntie Gee left?”
“Yeah, under the counter… the bottom left drawer.”
•••
Everything clicks into place, my invisible thread tugging me to action. Sighing, that warm glow burning ever brighter in my chest, spurred down my inescapable path. Turning the engine over, the ignition purrs to a satisfying rumble, rolling forward off the curb. Heading north down Main Street towards Split Canyon Road, the anxiousness running through the fibers of my nervous system, I’d actively avoided this cursed pavement since Nico’s violent exit. Nausea creeps into my esophagus… gun pointed at my face… Dizzy’s eyes wide, clouded, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth… silver orbs against the gibbous moon. Gulping, I shake it off, I’ll be joining them soon enough, as all us alive things must.
Checking the backseat of my loveable rust bucket, where bundles of sweet grass and sage lay, their scent lingering, bouncing against the rough asphalt. Hoping this little gift to the ancient dark one might quell that seething aspect of the entity. Out of the dirty windows, desert brush bursts with fall colors, forest to sienna, sienna to marigold. Fidgeting with the marble badger figurine, plucked from the console of my car, in one hand, I watch as scrubland succumbs to moonscape, the lonely road taking me past the all too familiar fins of blush rock. In day, the sandstone exudes color, casting harsh shadows in the mid-afternoon autumn light.
Regret, maybe I should’ve returned sooner, but the fear remains, the sheer terror of what I might find lingering in the wilderness. Law enforcement the least of my problems… what if, like the Mistwalker, the essence of Nico lingers here… his spirit awaiting the perfect moment to exact his revenge? Unlikely… Nana was always the type that would indulge in playfully haunting her grandchildren, yet her essence rings eerily absent from this world.
Miles and miles, the road stretches unyielding… isolated, where am I even going?
Coked out and menacing, a badger scuttles across the road, sending me into a swerve. Coming to a stop, I bash into the driver’s side door, death gripping the animal’s counterpart in my hand, the seatbelt barely functional as my raven hair wraps around my face.
“SHIT! SHIT!” whiplash, the strain hitting the sinews of my neck.
Disoriented, my senses readjust… in a flurry of arms, I rage exit Baby Cakes, slamming the door behind me, “Watch where you’re going!” I yell at the badger.
It turns, eyes locked upon me, unleashing a continuous guttural snarl. A definite “right back at you, fucker” before retreating down its path. Merely a nuisance to the furry creature, I’m pretty sure it’s convinced itself it could take me in a fight. It’s probably not wrong, somehow, the idea of its little jaws sinking deep into my flesh sounds like game over. Stepping back to the car, I watch cautiously as the beast slinks back into the outcrops, craving the assurance it’s not coming back for round two.
Panting with shock, I lean against Baby Cakes, picking strands of hair from face, a well-earned brief respite from the drive. Deciding to move the vehicle from the road, I pull out onto an overlook, keeping a sharp eye on the place my fuzzy nemesis hobbled off to. To the east, blonde sandstone hills, slickrock, and box canyons, garnished with twisted juniper and mountain mahogany. Overlooking the expanse, I’m drawn to the ledge, below me a vast plateau of pale rock, a tenuous climb down, but it’s not high, maybe twenty-five feet, with plenty of handholds. Seems as good a place as any to seek out a Great Spirit, I awkwardly twist a braid of sweet grass into my pocket, pairing it with a chrome lighter.
Drawn by the beckoning call of purpose, I navigate the rocks, stronger and more surefooted than in midsummer, contorting my hands around the occasional rabbitbrush. Confident, my boots meet solid ground, my stride assured as I make my way across the stone. Cerulean, the dome of the world stretches limitless over the desert… nearly as limitless as the imagination itself. My heart swells, the warmth locked in my chest burning with consuming brightness. Coming to a stop… here, I stand, surrendering myself to whatever comes next. Herbal scent, thin wisps of smoke extend into the temperate sun-touched air, flame etches the fibers of the sweet grass as I pull the lighter away from the strands, an action so natural, I don’t recollect doing it.
Movement against the valley walls, at first maybe just a trick of the light, or possibly, veiny tendrils of motion caused by rising heat. Out of the nothing, reality weeps ashy mist, a stream of ink moving against the smoldering current, drawn in by the sacred aroma, it propels itself towards me with, at times, inconsistent disquieting speed. Holding my offering, the apprehension growing in my stomach… will this be good enough to appease the formless being? Strands of ebony encircle me, spasming, changing direction on a dime, the darkness ensnaring, rolling counterclockwise in a plume. Gathering into a stable mass, a vicious snout assembles itself from the gloom. She rises, emerging from the void, amorphous particles, matter binding together, elongated neck arching, that familiar canine form, silver ablaze in its incomprehensible eyes.
Navan’yu… she extends her head to the sky, releasing an unsettling brassy call. Shaking, unable to control my dread, I clutch the sweet grass as a shield, dipping my head with both respect and… surrender… the wheels in motion, there’s no turning back now. The beast mirrors my gesture… I stand, transfixed… out of all the things I prepared myself for, this wasn’t one of them. Ominously leaning over me, the Great Spirit takes a deep inhale, letting out a bassy ratting breath, flame consuming the smudge. She draws the smoke into her nostrils, feeding upon the haze, eyes locked on mine.
Glaring, expression unreadable, she raises herself, standing erect against the sky’s steel hue. Unblinking, the Mistwalker disintegrates, wisps of material drawn from her body, lost to the autumn breeze. I hold my place, staring at the space now void of Navan’yu. Unable to move, I meditate upon the encounter, relinquishing myself to the possibility that this could’ve been my oblivion.
Texture registers on my palms, I peer, yet with nothing to see, my hands are pushed by something invisible. Rising into the air, my boots lose contact with the ground. Black fur, form, I’m aloft before I can register what’s happened, as the beast takes to the heavens. Up, up, lifted by thermals calling us to the roof of the world.
A thousand feet over the canyons, jigsaws of pattern, Ghost River snakes eerily, deep phthalo slicing through the desolation, a deadly sculptor harkening to times before man. Higher we climb, far off minimal fluffy clouds meet our eye level. Cold carves into my skin, becoming numb to the touch, much like my fear upon the back of this creature, torn from the security of the soil. Looping, the sky and earth are one, the g-force pushing against my skull, pulling on the pits of my eye sockets. Navan’yu, unfazed by flight, her streamlined muzzle taught, yet relaxed, great ebony wings carrying us effortlessly.
Weightless, freed from her back, I plunge into the abyss.
A moment of clarity shines in her leaden gaze as her eyes meet mine. Chilling intent, she dropped me with purpose. Frenzied, I claw against the ripping howling wind. Hovering above me, as I descend with accelerating speed, the beast’s maw opens, effusing silver light, my blood ice… A great beam of mercury erupts from her jaws, whistling past my left shoulder. Turning to face the impending ground, the beam hits the empty sky, colliding with something unseen, far above the water-starved earth. The air splits, molten, pillows of steam rising from the tangerine glow, a jagged fiery wound emerging, torn in the fabric of reality.
Collision inevitable, I look away, twisting my body upwards towards Navan’yu, her aspect relenting into a spreading cloud of blackness. Three thick, misty ebony tendrils emerge, coiling around each other into a shape akin to a triple helix, terrible and twister-like, they reach for me.
Encroaching scalding heat at my back… enveloped by the fissure.
Darkness.
Dense scentless smoke fills my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my ears, my lungs, my mind… that burning brightness in my chest spreading, percolating through my extremities… my flesh disintegrating… pinpoints of radiation strewn from my body… scarlet fireflies… scattered into obscurity.