His face was peering in the crevice of the cave. Terah started, sitting upright and rising in defense of his friend. Demons must sense human weakness. They attack when you need recovery time. He didn’t know how to fight, but he would. Then the face was gone.
Terah added some fuel to the fire and tried to let sleep take him. The fears that defined him, that stitched him together, had culminated in the threat to Lindsey. Struck by lightning—his heart had stopped when he saw her on the forest floor. She was younger, and she should survive longer, more easily than a guy his age. He knew he had much to offer that they world had already rejected. He just wanted to settle down with Lindsey, protect her. But he knew this couldn’t be. Still, he could be the best partner he could. She’d shown herself to him without a speck of self-consciousness. There were married couples who didn’t know each other as well.
Sleep was what he needed, but it was the thing being kept from him. The storm continued outside, although the thunder had faded once again to mere brontide. It was deep, deep in the night. Sleep seemed afraid of weariness. He was playing hide-and-seek with it. It couldn’t find him. Eventually, inevitably, it did.
Once, when he was employed, Terah had a medical procedure that required anesthesia. He was as worried as patients in such situations always are, and he was talking to the anesthesiologist. He asked about a bubble he saw in the tubing. Assuring him that it was okay, the anesthesiologist had him start counting. He never made it to four. Upon suddenly awaking after it was over, Terah wondered where his consciousness had been. It wasn’t like sleep. It was like someone turned off a light switch and his awakening was mere seconds later. It was like missing time. This was that kind of sleep. An intense loss of consciousness with no dreaming. His eyes butterflied open.
Lindsey was staring at him when he awoke. She’d dressed and, obviously, had not eaten. The morning—who knew what time it ever was?—was sunny after the storm, as streamers came, ruler straight, into the cave. “Are you okay?” he asked. His clothes, reasonably dry, were next to his blanket.
“I’m fine. Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll make our way to Bangor. We can’t be too far.” She turned her back.
The woods were damp underfoot but the air was pleasantly warm. “So, you’ve been hit by lightning before.”
“The saying about lightning not strikin’ twice is wrong. It happened not far from here. Calum found me after it happened. I should warn ya, he’s unconventional.”
“Nothing about our lives has been conventional for the past several weeks.”
“Now you’re beginnin’ to understand.”
He struggled about whether to tell her that Wednesday had visited. He decided not to. “All of this has been like another education,” he mused. “You don’t get credit for it, but you learn far more than graduate school.”
“If yer not A-list you get treated different and spend all yer time tryin’ to get on that list. If ya fall into the poorest class, yer screwed. The poorest folks are often the smartest, though. They know more about how the world works than most. You suppose professors and lawyers and such know how to shit in the woods? Build a fire, even? Or find shelter? So much for the A-list.”
The trees had not leafed out but buds were shading from rose to green, ready to burst forth. The trunks were spaced such that making a trail wasn’t too difficult. Undergrowth, especially of the thorny variety, required some rerouting, but the rocky soil was carpeted with last autumn’s leaves, a neutral beige to go with any decor. Terah breathed deeply. The damp, earthy scent of the woods was intoxicating. He’d not really experienced it since he was a college student out in the forested church camp with Wendy.
With no background noise they could easily tell when nearing a road. Cars were just about as rare here as they had been back in Scotrun. They’d covered some miles. “Will you know how to find Calum’s place?” Terah asked.
“He’ll know we’re comin’. He’ll be out lookin’ for us.”
“Sounds kind of mystical.”
“Unconventional, as I said. We just keep headin’ southeast.” The pleasant air felt wonderful, but the damp seams of his clothes still chafed. His apparel had become part of him. Removing his clothes was an act of violence to his person, like an insect bursting from its chrysalis, or a snake shedding its skin. And he’d bought everything off the discount rack. He looked at Lindsey. She was serene. Her face, although not conventionally pretty, was attractive in its determination. Having seen her undressed, he now knew she was indeed a nicely formed young lady. Her clothes were as utilitarian as she was. Her jeans, which didn’t fit snugly, were durable and mostly intact. Her jacket, which he’d seen all winter long, was army surplus olive drab. She wore old boots and a button-down flannel shirt that looked like it’d been cut for a man. Everything about her spoke of her self-possession and strength. She really didn’t need him as much as he needed her.
Terah eventually noticed the of bird song. The strident shriek of jays and the chatter of robins. Squirrels shuttling through the leaf litter made papery punctuations. The blue of the sky was almost surreal. Although they’d been together for months now, Terah had millions of questions that Lindsey only answered cryptically. Most people, he knew, had at least one defining secret. Something so deep and wounding that only the most intimate of lovers would know it. It was the chisel that had sheared off pieces of their soul that had made them who they were. Carefully hidden, fiercely protected, this secret was their essence. He decided to tell her the story of Wendy, his wounding chisel.
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