HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

   As a child you're taught absolutes, good and evil, heaven and hell, right and wrong   Don't talk to strangers.   Eat your vegetables.   Respect your elders.   Your parents are always right and know what's best for you.   At you grow, and walk your path, this moral certitude is tossed away like an old, torn jacket.   You don't always know the truth, there is no multiple choice, you can't find 'x'.   Nobody has a GPS; the journey is a muddled cluster fuck where you wander out of order, skipping points in between, sometimes ending up stuck in the same mire twice.   Parents never will admit to their children this fact, even if later in their own life you might look at them with more forgiving eyes.

   School for Sarah would not improve.   Sure, her grades were strong enough, it was her peers that were brutal, and Sarah's every instinct was to shy away from confrontation.   There were days I would find her taking out that frustration in the frigid shed, benching weight I thought would be too heavy for such a small girl, or working the heavy bag, its chain rattling as blows rained down four at a time, with stifled grunts, until her legs gave out, and she would collapse on top of them in a limp heap.   At times she disappeared on the moped for hours, returning with no explanation.   Those days seemed to come too often, and were only increasing.   Reason told me to back off the lessons, that I was teaching her violence as a solution.   I did the opposite, and pushed control, and prayed that some god out there would take pity.

   There were other times at night, when the all work was done and time was slow, where she would fly into a rage, cursing her classmates, this town, the sky, the world itself.   A fearsome demeanor would transform her.   Her appearance dominated, her very presence seemed enough to destroy our too small home.   Her voice would deepen, her diction changed.   Her movements were without thought or reservation.   Nothing of Sarah would remain, and then the tears started to flow.   Tears for her parents, and the way they were taken away, her need for justice, and for closure.

   Not was not only the wild moments that worried me, this presence crept into the quiet ones as well.   Even calm she became a live wire, living life on its raw edge with unbounded passion.   Throwing herself at everything she did and damn the consequences.   The timid child I had met seemed to die, and from its ashes, this.

   As much as my desire was to dismiss this as a normal teenage thing, especially after living a cloistered life, I could never accept it.   If the catalyst was something in Sarah, its origins seemed elsewhere.   Everything she had mentioned since I had known her, the blackouts, being captive in her own body at times, everything I had experienced, it all meant something.   My questions had never found resolution, really had I even tried?   Was I still a coward, still afraid of what I would find and its meaning?   I had to know.   That morning lead me to Yerington's small library.   It was under stocked and staffed, with no chance of finding a relevant book.   I knew that coming in, but in its corner were three archaic computers with internet access.

   'Where would I even begin with this?'

   I tried 'Hindu Gods' and was hit with an avalanche of debris to sift through.   Sarah had not been kidding.   My own personal knowledge base of Hinduism consisted mainly of Hollywood bastardizations.   I wadded through iconography, trying to get my arms around this task.

   'Shiva is a guy?   What the fuck?   Times like this I hate being an American.'

   Too much time was lost as I tried to pull a picture together from disparate sources.   'Brahma...Visnu...Shiva.   Shiva marries Parvati, or is it Sati?'   My head started to hurt.   'Gentle aspect of Mahadevi.   What does that even mean?   Chandi...impetuous one...eighteen arms, damn. Lalita, wait Tripura Sundari...beautiful, sixteen, makes sense...four arms.'   I was getting discouraged and losing focus. 'Kali...I've heard of her...death, violence.'   Memories sparked of the encounters with the cultists.   They were obsessed with Sarah being some aspect of death.   'Dark skin...blue or black'   She was certainly dark skinned, but not black, or blue for that matter.   I read further, Kali seemed to be depicted as violent, fierce, and as agent of chaos, but not against people...   'Durga, Sarah called herself that at the campground.   Eight arms...or ten, dammit.   Inaccessible warrior goddess. strong willed, humorous nature, invincible, wild.' Sounds like Sarah, or is it she was just drawn to the imagery?   I kept looking, until weary eyes found the clock, and I surprised myself at the amount of time that had passed.   I needed a good excuse when I got home.   Perhaps I went to the bar with Tim or something.

   Training was put on hiatus as the winter weather froze the earth.   It seemed the time to finally catch up on the things I had missed over the past eight years.   Among other diversions, we tried a movie night, nothing too serious, just something together to pass the time.   One night she brought home 'Columbiana'.   She said it was a good movie, I didn't know any better, as I slid it in the DVD while she camped on the sofa.   Sarah tossed several pieces of popcorn from her hands, catching four of the five in her mouth.

   "Did you ever think of trying juggling?"

   "Nope."   Another wave of four went up, catching them all.   Arms were raised in triumph.

   It was a strange juxtaposition.   As the film rolled, the popcorn was consumed, and soon Sarah was resting on her side, her head on my thigh, two hands as a pillow, completely at ease.   The dog lay resting next to her folded legs.   The fire crackled on the other side of the room, and added its light to the television in an otherwise dark room.

   "Janice was talking the other day about having me help with the horses this spring.    She wants to cut my hair and bleach it."

   "You would look funny."

   "That's what John said too."

   "Well, you would."   Derpy's head popped up from the sofa pillow.   She tore off to my bedroom for a reason all her own, derailing my train of thought.   "Wait, John talked?"

   "Yeah, he does that sometimes, between the shadowing, and pretending he's not there."

   "He's just shy, and interested in you."

   "Well, duh.   I'm not that dumb."

   "The sheep must be getting lonely then."

   "They don't even have any sheep."

   "My bad..."   I had no idea where that had come from.   Yes I did.

   "He's alright, I guess, when he stops lurking and just starts talking.   He's sweet, and confused."   I suppressed an urge to walk over there and punch him in the face.   I kept repeating to myself that it was a positive thing, a boy her age, simple flirtation, it is normal.   After a while I might even brainwash myself into accepting it.

   Things had quickly settled back into the daily toil after the holidays, days slipped away quickly without those events acting as landmarks on your path.   February rolled around and the season began to change, warming just slightly after a week of rain storms.   It happened then I was hit with one of those markers square between the eyes.

   "It's my birthday in three days, what have you gotten me?" Sarah spoke casually.   She had taken to training Derpy after I had suggested it, finally.   Suggestion might be too soft of a word.   My chair was to be the last causality.   Today was sitting.   Sarah managed to get Derpy on her haunches, and was teasing her with a treat.

   "Three days, the eleventh, when did you think you warned me about that?"   The past few days I had been looking at some distance learning courses to take with my G.I. bill.   My head popped up from one such booklet.   Sarah seemed to enjoy the position she had yet again worked me into, snorting as she took her next breath.

   "Just now, so what have you gotten me?"

   "Didn't you last summer tell me that you were almost seventeen then?"

   "I was.   So what did you get me?   Did you forget my birthday already?"

   Ray Charles could see that arguing was going to get me nowhere.   The morning of her birthday was spent shopping in Carson City, under some pretense that she was growing and couldn't possibly make all the clothes she needed, or something.   I guess it wouldn't make sense to make pants, or frilly things if you could help it.   They really need a toy room to drop off males at in a clothing store.   I guess that's why they made department stores with hardware sections.

   On the way back we stopped through Virginia City, an old historic town that in its day rivaled San Francisco in its splendor and sophistication.   Those days long gone, but it was still beautiful, shrunken to a shadow on the mountainside of its former self.   Its wealth once was silver, procured through shafts driven deep into the earth; a city literally built on top of a mine, with its steep, narrow cross streets, buildings standing still from its glory days, and a view eastward of a hundred miles.   Now, the little city was a destination for those who desire a simpler time, even if for just a few hours.   We did the tourist thing down C Street for a bit, and then decided to drive downhill to explore the ruins of the old mills and see what we could find of the past.

   Soon, we were lost in the hills, sagebrush and the short pinion pines clinging to life on the rough hillsides.   Between sharp stone, the earth still bared the remnants of rivulets from the recent rain.   A large rock sat in front of me, and I took it for an opportunity.   I rested on it, and enjoyed the breeze and the peace.

   "Comon' you tired already?" Sarah taunted, forcing her own breath steady, but unable to hide a slight hunch of the back.

   "Just feelin' my age a bit, there's no rush."   It was sunny, but still very cool.   Uphill to the north, I watched a jackrabbit take flight, uphill from us, in the distance.   "Wonder what made him bolt like that?" I muttered idly to myself.

   "Do you hear that?"   I strained for a moment to catch the sound.

   "For that much noise, it must be something big in the brush."   But I was wrong.   A young boy, perhaps 11, crashed his way through a patch of stunted pine, and broke his way into view.   Trivial matters disappeared, as I outpaced Sarah in my rush to the boy. He was in quite a state.   A layer of mud was caked on the knees and elbows of his cloths.   He tripped even before I managed get near him, and slid down several feet downhill on the rough gravel, where he came to rest face up.   His cheek had fresh blood on it, a fresh cut from a tree limb whipped back onto his face.

   "Kid...hey, kid you OK?"   The boy managed a moan through his fatigue.   Sarah caught up after several moments.   I snatched the water bottle that she had been carrying.

   "HEY!   Ask first!"

   "Help me with his head."

   I propped the boy up slightly with my thigh, while Sarah helped him take a long, slow draw from the bottle.   His eyelids flickered, and the body stirred.   Awareness seemed to return.

   "Kid, what's going on that you need to kill yourself over?"

   "My brother...we found a hole in the hillside...a mine shaft...a rock hit his head and he got stuck."

   "You have got to be kidding me.   Even I've heard the big deal they've made out of that, 'Stay out, stay alive,' stuff."

   "Lay off Michael.   You never did anything stupid as a kid?"

   "Not that stupid."

   "What about the time you said..."

   "This is not the time."

   "What the hell is wrong with you? You're getting prematurely old."

   "There are more pressing things right now.   Stay with him, I'm going to get my phone from the truck.   Give him small sips of water and get him back on his feet and show us where his brother is."

   Why had I not brought my phone, thinking it would never be useful for anything but annoying the hell out of me?   I finally reached it after a break-neck ten minutes over the hillside, only to find the battery nearly dead and no reception.   There was only plan B, grabbing my backpack, and stuffing anything handy into it.   The next fifteen minutes were spent climbing and cursing my lack of preparation.   Search and Rescue could have been a phone call away.   At least Sarah had done her part, the boy was sitting up.

   She nodded at me, "Alex's ready to go."

   It was another 20 minutes of winding our way up a draw before we found the objective.   The last rainstorm had opened up a sinkhole in the earth.   It ran maybe five feet deep, but had opened up into an old cross cut into the red mountainside.   All the wash had made an excellent ramp into its depths.

   "You boys went in here, how deep?"

   "I don't know, not very far.   You can't very far in with the sunlight."

   "Sarah, go with Alex to the highway.   Flag down a car, go up to the city, get somebody here.   Tell them to expect two needing medical attention."

   "Alex, tell them to expect three."

   "Sarah, you have to stay up here and guide first responders to me."

   "Bullshit, and I'm going to let you go in there alone?"

   "The amount of cave-ins that happened here are legendary."

   "Exactly, that's why I'm coming too.   Stop being a pig!"

   "No."   My voice stretched, my words cracked.   Why couldn't she listen to me just this time?   "I can't lose you."

   "If this was the Michael that saw that van last summer, I would be dead already.   What has happened to you?"   I grabbed her by the shoulder to hold her back, just to have it violently removed from my grip.   "Really, what's wrong with you?   You're not stopping me."

   "I have something to live for," someone whispered.   "I won't lose you."

   "And I will not lose you.   I am a Goddess.   No harm can come to me."   Sarah's words left me with no recourse.   Something flashed again inside her.   I handed her a Maglite without response, and kept my army issue flashlight for myself, then we climbed down the sinkhole.

   "Alex, it's up to you little man."

   It was dark, all-consuming and insatiable.   Our poor light was quickly swallowed by darkness, and obscured with a choking dust that intermittently caused fits.   However it despised the sound, and wanted nothing of it, distorting and amplifying it to the point where a stray cough feared to bring the mountain down on us.   At its widest I could touch the roof of this decaying tunnel, or both sides at once.   Rarely was it even that spacious, partial collapses were common, where hundred-year decayed timber had given up its post.

   "It's warm in here, warmer then outside." Sarah whispered.   It seemed that even a loud voice could bring the tunnel down, and it was definitely a possibility.

   "There is a geothermal formation down here.   Men at the bottom of the shafts broke rock at in 120 degrees, 1600 feet below the city.   Some were scalded to death drilling into pockets of super-heated water.   Hundreds died from cave-ins, fires, and that's when they were maintained."   Even the random *Drip* *drop* became a unseen source of trepidation.

   "Lovely."   A footfall shook some stone loose from the wall.   My heart skipped; yet I caught myself before I reacted in a way that could bring the rest down.

   Sarah froze.   "Where the fuck is this kid?   There is no way they got this far in."

   "He was hit on the head.   There could be a concussion, delirium.   He might have wandered in farther, but this deep?"

   We continued at a snail’s pace, with no perception of time or space, just shadow and echo.   We hit another, particularly spectacular tunnel failure, forcing a crawl through a small hole held up by broken timber.   Sarah went second, and caught her pink wind-breaker on a jagged spear of wood.   Trying to force it loose tore it severely down the side, revealing her eight-armed red sweater.

   "Dammit."

   "Sarah, you have to go back now.   No one can see you like this."

   "Bullshit.   I'm seeing this though."

   "You will be outed.   The thugs will find you."

   "And if this boy dies when I could have helped him, then that's one life more than keeping this secret is worth."   She took off the jacket and handed it to me, leaving her thin, homemade sweater underneath.   I stuffed the jacket in my backpack.

   It was in that moment that it hit me; how far we had traveled from that girl I rescued just nine months ago.   The Sarah of today would have never needed rescuing that summer night.   She needed no protector, no knight, and no armor, no me.

   'What am I now to her, a convenience, a microwave?   Did I miss that chance for something more?'

   I shook the doubts from my mind, where they congealed with the darkness, gnawing at my soul.

   Echoes soon changed in pitch and verve.   Suddenly, light could no longer find walls, and the floor fell away.   We had actually managed to push all the way to the stope, the mine itself, where the silver and gold were actually extracted.   The void continued for hundreds of feet at an angle moving up and away from us, following the mountain's incline, through and underneath us.   Time had punished man's efforts here as well, leaving chaos for order.   Rock from the crosscut, the roof, the sides, had broken and collapsed the square set timber and piled up below at a steep angle below into a portion the stope, leaving the immediate area clogged, an island in the midst of the darkness.

   "We could be a mile into the mountainside."   For a moment I forgot why we were here.   The marvel of engineering it took to create all this 150 years ago, when men were just mastering steam power, despite the danger of it all, it still remained here deep in the earth, where no eyes had been in many generations.

   "There he is."   Sarah kept her light on the boy, several years younger than his brother.   In his delirium, he had fallen onto the pile of debris and tumbled until he fortunately came to rest against an upright timber, one of the few still holding faithfully to its task.

   "He was flat out lucky, if he had missed that timber there would have been nothing to stop him from disappearing into the cut forever.   Here's the rope, tie it around your waist.   You're going to have to go down there and check him out."

   "Me?"

   "Are you going to pull me back up?   There's nothing solid to tie this rope to. Anyway, if I go down there, my weight might collapse this bubble of debris and send us all to hell."

   "I probably could.   Damn, this rope is rough."

   "I got it for pulling cars out of mud, not this.   Take this rag and roll it around his neck for a brace, hold it in place with this duct tape.   We have to assume the worst."

   Sarah backed down the slope, crawling slowly, all eight arms working to steady her the entire way down.   I gave her slack as needed and prayed.   A real, earnest prayer, like nothing I had whispered since my father died.   It was a twisted game.   Would the rope run out, or would she reach the boy first.   She finally arrived; five feet of rope still remained of the original thirty.

   "He's still alive."   Sarah shouted a little too loud.   The reverberation echoed a good dozen times before silence reasserted itself.   I waved her off, not daring to respond.   Immediately, she realized her mistake, and returned her attentions to the boy as I shined the light on them both from far above.   As the makeshift neck-brace was applied, the boy stirred, and his eyes opened, and viewed Sarah in her full glory.   It changed nothing, Sarah was right, his life took precedent.   Gently, she lifted the boy, and brushed off the rocks and dust, and shifted him until he rested in her lowest arms.   With all the care she could manage, she climbed back up to ledge to me, her back arched, her cargo cradled underneath her, wrapped tight, parallel to her body in her lowest and rear arms as I drew in the rope tight, leaving it slackless.   Once, twice, three times she slipped as rocks gave out beneath her, at a point a kicked rock causing a small avalanche beneath her.   Many tense minutes passed, and I wondered if anyone else could have been able to get the boy without killing themselves in the process.   With all the problems it causes, having eight arms has its advantages.

   "Are you sure you aren't part spider?"   I got a half-smile, half-indignant, all exhausted Sarah as I offered a hand up.   "You did good, 'girl.'"   Sarah lowered the boy to the ground, while still cradling his head.   I looked him over quickly.   "His left arms broken...there's definitely a concussion, shock can be assumed at this point.   His spine is heavily bruised."   After all of this he might not even make it out.   "I saw some old drill rods in the crosscut.   Go get them while I wrap him in my jacket.   We'll use yours to make a half-stretcher with it, and tie him down on it."

   The process of working our way out of the tunnel was even slower than the way in.   Sarah held his legs elevated as we both carried the boy out on the stretcher, extra care taken to work him around the less sound portions of tunnel.   The boy was pale, and his pulse weak.    After all of this we still could have been too late.   We were almost directly underneath the sinkhole before we spotted it.   The sun itself had given up on us, and only the last of its light remained in the sky.   We must have been under the ground for a couple of hours.   I one last, final effort, with energy that I had not tapped since the military, we pulled him and ourselves up and over the sink hole, collapsing in the last effort.

   "See, I told you we would be fine,"   Sarah rasped, lying at an odd angle some feet away from me.   All I could do was look at the red sky and watch it turn and feel the ache from my arms and back.   The first star appeared.

   "Over here, it was over here."   Someone sounded faint in the distance, followed by more shouting.   The older brother!   We were not done even now.

   "We need to move."   I dragged myself back up to my feet, and was rewarded with a coughing fit before I could even stand fully.

   "You're filthy."

   "So are you.   Take it for camouflage."

   We hid in those hills for hours, and watched until the circus lights died down and passed away, and hunger became too strong of a motivator.   Slowly, more out of exhaustion then caution, we made our way back to my truck in near dark, excepting the red filtered glow of my flashlight.   We held hands, steadying each other, and I took note of how rough hers had become over the course of the day.   Within feet of my truck, inches from another escape from harm, the big lie came crashing down.

   "Well, you must be the angel the boy was talking about."    A blinding light shone suddenly in our faces.   "I can certainly see how he got that impression, and a military guy.   This was the only vehicle left.   I figured if I hung out here long enough the truth would come to me."

   'My flashlight when Sarah grabbed the boy, the dust, and all her arms...wings.'

   My own light reflected on a county sheriff, an man whose advanced age had softened his body.   For a moment I flashed on getting my knife out of the truck, and ending this clean.   The notion was rejected.

   "Please, you know what this'll do to me.   Let us go."   Sarah was pleading with two arms, the rest hidden in a vain attempt at denial of the plain truth.   We were outed.   All Sarah's bravo was gone, the timid child had returned.

   "You broke the law, and endangered yourself and others."

   "Are you really ready to destroy her life for it?   You know what this will do to her."

   "You know what notoriety this will bring to my county, we could use the press.   I'm just doing my job."

    "And taking care of her is mine."

   "You two are heroes.   You saved that boy's life.   We can let the trespassing slide.   Come with me and enjoy the accolades you deserve."

    "Please, I don't want to be a freak.   Sir, I just want normal."

    "Gregory."

    "What?"

    "My name's Gregory."   For just a moment he seemed weigh ponder her options, and I weighed mine.   "Go, you're free to go."

    "Thank you,” Sarah said in that soft voice I had not heard in months.

    "Don't thank me yet.   I will know where you live."

    Nothing could compare to the epic feel that day, at least nothing yet.   However, on a personal level I was at a nadir.   Valentines was in just a few days, and it was stuck in the middle of a series of night shifts.   I could do nothing personal with Sarah, just a silly card, my feelings hidden yet again.   John got her more, a card, chocolate and flowers in a delivery.   Where he got the money I don't know, probably dealing crack.   It was best thing for Sarah anyways, it was normal, right?

   Finally the weather warmed, and training resumed.   Sarah had taken another step backwards, not in abilities, but in control.   She was wild, reckless, and flew into rages, barely listening to me when I tried to bring her back, at the same moment trying to keep myself in one piece.   As the rages increased, she became more frustrated, and threw herself at everything she did, schoolwork, hobbies, other people.   In addition to the clothing she continued making, Sarah started a vegetable garden, and refused any help with it, removing the rocks, breaking up the soil, starting the seeds, it was all done alone.   It became the source of her pride as she drew her strength from it.   It became the one thing that no one, not school, the Dangles, sheriffs, or myself, could take away from her.

   April had its turn.   I watched her in the garden after a workout in the shed, and my attentions were exactly what she wanted.   On her hands and knees, she planted the seedlings with amazing rapidity.

   "Where did you get that outfit?"

She was in jeans, cut short to grab attention.   Where she had found the flannel shirt I could only guess, but it was cut off at the sides for arm space, and was still a tad tight for her, giving the whole thing a Daisy Duke feel, but disjointed in some subtle way.   Her hair was held out of her face by a cheap, plastic hair band.

   "The shirt was Janice's.   My pants didn't fit anymore, so I cut them up.   I told you I was still growing."   And as she stood, and drew her flowing hair back, all prior notions of who she was fell away.   Her body had matured, and although her limbs were still abnormally long and lank, her body had caught up somewhat with them, and become longer, curvier.   Her breasts had become nearly the handfuls that she was.   Her long, dark hair now reached down to her low waist, and remained full enough to match its width and cover the bulk of her back.   Her legs had retained their long look, and had fleshed out, reflecting the body proper, and she knew how to work them on me, walking slowly to me, in short steps with an exaggerated sway in the hips, teasing my emotions.   "See, I need some help..."   She came dangerously close, to where I could feel her breath on my face.   She was taller; the top of her head came to my eye level, which would put her at about five-and-a-half feet.   "...prom is coming up and I need a nice dress..."   She traced a single index finger softly down my chest.   My mind was starting to disappear.   "I was wondering if you could help me with that....take me to town?"   Sarah arched herself towards me, just touching her chest to mine.   "John's is taking me to prom."

   'What the fuck?'

   "Are you serious?"   I literally heard the record needle ripped off of the Barry Manilow record.   "Seriously?"

   "He's been nice to me.   You don't have a problem with that do you?"   Her voice maintained its coyness.

   "He's OK I guess."   "For a fat lump," I muttered, way too loud.

   "Well, you can't take me.   Not that you would if you could.   I'm just your responsibility, right, nothing else?"   Arms started in careless motion once again.

   "Of course you're more, I care about you."

   "Then say it."

   "What?" The volume of our voices rose together.

   "You know damn well what.   You think I can't tell by the way you look at me.   Say it."

   "I can't."

   "Then stew in it."    *slam*

   The screen door almost came off its hinges.   As it was, the mosquito netting broke loose.   The seedlings had been abandoned half-done.   I sat on the concrete steps, wondering if she would return.   After a while I gave up.

   "If there's one thing us small town, mid-westerners know, it's how to farm.   It's in our blood."   I placed seedlings in the earth, giving care to each one individually   Nothing beyond this task entered my mind.   Finally, I watered them out of an old milk jug rescued from the trash, letting each drink deep.   "Now if my life were just as easy to fix."