Coming Home

[kf4tdl]

Ahhhhhh, thank you for the update. I am eagerly awaiting the next installment as well! Beautifully descriptive, well written and amazing as usual!

[yikes]

Thank you FOTH.

[Arkansas COB]

Wow what a story. Ive wandered and read thru 3 web sites following the best i could this story. So looking forward to the next installment. Thank You FOTH for your time and the bits of survival knowledge you passed along this journey.

COB

[FOTH]

Thank you all. Arkansas COB, glad you were able to find the story here.

________________________

It was a vehicle, sunlight glinting off its passenger-side window, not so unusual to see there near the road, Einar told himself, someone parked near the river to fish, perhaps, to hike, who knew what? But nothing terribly out of the ordinary. Except that this particular vehicle, either a dark-colored pickup truck with a dark camper shell or a small SUV, appeared to have been backed nearly into the small canyon that held the river, rear tires braced against a tangle of fallen aspens and one large, half-decayed cottonwood deadfall which appeared to be the only things preventing it from rolling entirely over the edge. Strange, and under other circumstances he would surely have liked to investigate, but considering the present situation—he dressed strangely, covered in mud and blood and not particularly steady on his feet—this seemed a very bad idea. Potentially disastrous results should someone see him so near Bud’s, take an interest and perhaps manage to recognize him…definitely not a good idea to approach the truck.

He turned, started upriver with the intention of giving the vehicle a wide berth, finding another spot to descent into the canyon and make his crossing of the river. The vehicle’s presence bothered him though, dogged his thoughts as he made his way carefully up through the low scrub oak and serviceberry tangle of the canyon rim. Would have liked to go back and have a closer look, satisfy himself as to its reason for being there. Fishing rods. Bike rack. Something. In the absence of this information, he had no real way of being sure it was not part of some operation to surveil Bud’s cabin, watch the comings and goings of the people there, detect his presence and… Yeah. They’ll detect your clumsy, lumbering presence for doggone sure if you go creeping around in the weeds around that truck, Einar. Real bad idea. You need to put some distance behind you, get around a bend in this river where you can’t see that thing anymore and work your way across, and home. Bud can check this out. He is able to move around all over this place without looking suspicious. He lives here. You need to stay out of it.

Made sense, and he kept moving, slowly, deliberately, keeping the mass of brush between his position and that of the vehicle. Kept moving, but still it bothered him. Nearly a quarter mile Einar put behind him before the sense of unease brought on by the oddly-parked truck began lessening and he started looking seriously once more for a place to cross the river. The river banks were steep here, but not so steep as to be composed of true canyon cliffs as they were nearer Bud’s driveway, and it began seeming he was probably better off for having been pressed into choosing a different place to descend.

Carefully as possible, concerned lest he dislodge a rock and make a racket which might be heard by…someone…Einar made his way down the near-vertical slope of mixed rock and hard-packed soil, footing difficult to find, several slips nearly spilling him into the waiting water below. Made it. Bruised and out of breath, but with no serious damage, his descent having been nearly silent. Good news. Less good was the condition of the river itself, brown and roaring with the last surge of snowmelt from the high country, tangles of branches and the occasional cottonwood trunk carried along in its torrent. Yeah. A bridge would be good. But there was no bridge, not right here, not for several miles in either direction, so far as he knew, and he needed to get home. Needed to do it before Bud’s deadline passed and the tracker started out searching for him as he had promised to do, complicating everything and leaving the house—and Einar’s family—less well protected. Not a good risk, especially with that truck…forget the truck. You can think about it later. Just got to get across this thing right now, and up that hill to the cabin.

Einar liked the cold. Sought it out, thrived in it, used it to challenge himself, gained strength from his contact with it, most times. But not this time. Exhausted, sleepless for too long and having exerted himself very hard for several days without any sort of nourishment, the first touch of the water seemed to pierce instantly through the nearly nonexistent wrapping of flesh on his limbs and torso, freeze his bones and slam the breath from his lungs as he lowered himself up to the chest in its frothy, swirling melee. Keeping himself still against the urge to gasp, cry out, flail back up onto the shore he waited, excruciating sting of the water gradually deepening to a steady ache and his breath beginning to return, though raggedly. Already he was shivering, losing fine movement in his extremities. Way too soon. Way sooner than it should have happened, especially in someone who had subjected himself to years of training in the cold. Well. It’s what you have to work with right now. This is…no problem. Done this before. Doing it now. No sense waiting. And he did not, shoving with his feet, losing contact with the ground beneath as his legs were jerked from beneath him by the force of the water, after which the planned crossing took on the chaotic, frantic appearance of a man in a desperate struggle for his life. Which it was, and the man, though with more difficulty than he would have liked, prevailed—against the force of the water, at least.

Finally, numb and battered Einar dragged himself up onto the rocks, shivering and gasping, waterlogged wolverine vest and torn jeans plastered against his emaciated body and he looking, had anyone seen him, rather more like a drowned muskrat than any wolverine. Kind of felt like one, too, twisting his head sideways, vomiting river water and scraping the hair out of his eyes in an attempt to get a look around. He had ended up significantly downstream of where he had started, a result which had been nearly inevitable given the strength of the current, but not, he was relieved to see, so far down as to be within sight of the strangely-parked truck should he climb straight up the bank. Ought to work. If only he could get his numbed limbs to respond and carry him up away from the water.

Earlier the day had been sunny but now clouds prevailed, a sharp breeze blowing down from the peaks, and he was quickly stiffening in his wet clothes, body locking up, not wanting to move. Had to move. Still had the road crossing and one more climb ahead of him, even after he got up the bank. Rolling over and sitting up he shrugged out of the vest, did his best—shaking wildly now—to wring it out. Jeans seemed hopeless, his ability to get them back on again if removed questionable at best, so he left them. Wringing did not do much for the vest, wolverine leather slimy, sticky, fur sodden and unpleasant. He put it back on. It was all he had. Crouched there for a long minute shivering in the wind, knees hunched against his chest and arms wrapped around himself in a futile attempt to find some warmth, inertia trying to creep in, sap his will to move. He was tired. So tired it hurt, wanted nothing more than to curl up on the rocks and rest, just rest for a minute. Which meant rest was almost certainly exactly the wrong thing, the one thing he must not do. And he did not, rising, stumbling to his knees a few times in the rocks before regaining some sense of balance and taking off up the hill, fierce grin lighting his drawn face at the challenge of the thing, got to complete the Ordeal, sure not stopping now… and by the time he had reached the brush along the highway, he was almost enjoying the fierce bite of the wind, taking strength from it.

A wait then, belly down in the cold mud under the willow scrub that bordered the pavement, scanning as far as he could see in one direction and then the other, making himself very quiet for a good ten minutes, both inside and out, trying to sense whether someone might be concealed nearby, waiting for him…nothing. No traffic, either, and he was on his feet, crouching briefly at the edge of the brush-cover before making his dash and arriving breathless but safe on the far side. Bud’s side. Almost home.

Less than a quarter mile up the slope lay the cabin, and anxious though he was to cover the distance he kept his pace down almost to a crawl, stopping frequently to listen, to observe, and then after a time his pace slowed further, this time not deliberately, time beginning to seem a strange, fluid thing, a very viscous fluid through which he was having to force unwilling limbs and a body which seemed no longer quite under his rational control. Managed it anyway, the continuation of movement, mind seeming entirely clear as he climbed and a bitter joy growing in him at the increasing challenge of the thing, wild grin leaving his face but never entirely vanishing from his eyes.

Later. Had been watching the place for a long time from his position on an adjoining hill, watching long enough to see the afternoon shadows lengthen into evening and Liz go out for a walk with Will and return; all seemed right with that little world. Almost time to rejoin it. Almost. Not sure what was causing his reluctance. Maybe a desire to refrain from spoiling it with his own presence, that beautiful little world, but soon it would be getting dark and Bud would go out to search for him and he must not allow that, not by choosing to remain here crouched against a fallen aspen, not when he could simply get up and walk home. Not so simple when he tried it, cold aspen-shadows and the continuing sharpness of the wind working together to stiffen him almost beyond the ability to move, but he did it, on his feet, smiling at the thought of seeing Liz, Will, and then there she was, not fifty yards from him, almost he thought her an illusion at first, but she was moving towards him, saw him as soon as he stepped out of the brush.

He went to her and she grabbed him and drew him to her, hands up under his wolverine vest as she tried to warm him, feeling the icy sharpness of his ribs and hipbones as he shivered against her, and she wept, wept because she had thought she might well never see him again in this life, wept at the state of him, how it appeared almost as though he had been vacuum sealed from the inside—an absurd image, and she might have laughed, were it not so accurate and so horrible—skin drawn in so tightly against his bones that not only were they each and every one visible, but so were the little nuances and irregularities on some of them, here the sharp dished-out shape of a shoulder blade, there the healed ridges where he had previously broken ribs or injured an arm, but most of all she wept because he was, for the first time in almost longer than she could remember, really and wholly there with her. She could see it in his eyes. Einar had come home.

[kf4tdl]

Amazing!! Thank you, as usual!

[2medicine woman]

Great new addition. I have a tendency to hold my breath as Einar pulls off his seemingly impossible travels. I feel empathy for Einar. Living in the pain of the past. The pain of his perceived failures. Only by facing those pains, truthfully. . . will he find release. "The truth shall set you free" John 8:32

Thank you for another update. I appreciate your gift & the time you devote to it.

Peace to all

2medicine woman

[gipsysmith]

I sure hope that he has seen the light and will get back into fighting shape now.

[icefire]

Unless he's hallucinating, it's a GOOD thing he's back (in more ways than one.) Now, about that truck.....

[cob]

Another Great Chapter FOTH. I sure Hope Einar has found peace in his mind so he can heal.

Thank you.

COB

[FOTH]

He wanted to tell her about the truck, tried to do it but she seemed not to be hearing any of his words and then she was leading him, taking him insistently by the arm and starting for the cabin. Truck could wait, he supposed. Had been able to wait this long, obviously, but he wanted her to know about it, to see whether she—and more importantly Bud—was aware of the potential danger and had a plan and a back way out of the place should it become necessary, and…mind going one way, body the other, he simply stopped moving, which only seemed to concern Liz more. Not sure what had her all upset in the first place, for she did appear upset, tears on her cheeks, and he hoped it wasn’t about the truck, hoped Will was…

“Will?” His voice was a strange, hoarse thing, dry, cracked, sounding more like the raven’s than that of a man, no wonder she had not understood him when he tried to tell her about the truck, supposing he had really spoken at all, of which he was no longer sure. “Will. Is Will ok?”

“Yes, he’s with Susan. He’s just fine. We just got back from a walk, and he was hungry, so I left him with Susan to have some yogurt while I came to meet you. Come home with me, and see him!

He nodded, went with her, wondered how she had known when to meet him, and where, after his being gone so long and returning from such a strange direction…but she had always known, it seemed, had always known his paths, a mystery, and there was nowhere he wanted to be, just then, other than wherever she was.

Two days later Einar woke to the sound of hushed, hurried footsteps in the house below him, a chill that seemed to grip him from all sides despite his inexplicably finding himself bundled in blankets, and eyes very nearly too dry and sandy to force open. He opened them anyway, blinking into the filtered light of an early morning overcast. Lying still for a good half minute as his brain tried to make an orderly picture out of the scattered signals creeping in through his senses he seemed to make his decision all at once, throwing off the covers and rising in one fluid motion that sent him vaulting up and out of the bed—bed? How on earth did I end up in here?—and face-first onto the floor all in a matter of seconds.

Not bad there on the floor, but he wanted to move, needed to move, hoisting himself on arms that suddenly and very frustratingly seemed rather like jelly—something seemed to be wrong with one of them, wrist not right, really not wanting to support any weight—wobbling beneath him and threatening to give way until all of a sudden he got mad, really, thoroughly mad and at the same time a little scared at the fact that he had no idea how he had come to be here, or for how long he had been.. The adrenalin steadied him, allowed him to rise a bit shakily to his feet and stand there hanging onto the bed rail feeling strange and immensely light, almost floating, skin all drawn in and pinched between his ribs when he looked, stretched around his hipbones in such a comical way that he nearly laughed at the sight of himself, lost his balance and had to get up all over again. He was cold. Looked for his vest, pants, couldn’t find them so settled for struggling into the flannel shirt and pair of sweat pants he found folded beside the bed. The pants had a drawstring. Good. Wouldn’t fall off, and he needed them not to fall off, because he needed to be ready to run. Just in case. Just because he had no idea what was going on.

What did he know? Bud’s house. Morning. People moving around down there, but no one was speaking above a whisper, so something must not be right. He lowered himself to his stomach at the top of the stairs, ready to try and figure it out, only to be startled right back up again by Bud’s booming voice from just below.

“On your feet, you slacker! What’ve you been doing up here? Sleeping on duty, is it? Unacceptable.”

If Einar had not been wide awake before, he certainly was, now. “Was hoping you could tell me,” he croaked, voice dry and strange and not at all easy to get out. “What have I been doing up here? Last thing I remember is…walking with Liz and…you guys know about the truck?”

“Truck. Yeah, we know about the truck. Is that what you’ve been trying to get across to us for the last two days with all your flailing and fighting? The truck?”

Einar was confused, very deliberately looked out the window and ignored the question, not at all sure how to begin answering. He wanted to find Liz, find out why things were so quiet and strange in the house, as he was seriously doubting that he would get any real answers from Bud. The tracker had left, anyway, gone away somewhere downstairs and when Einar tried to follow him it was to find the staircase strange and uneven-seeming, a puzzle his mind could not presently decipher, so he gave up trying, plowed his way down with feet that wanted to go every which way and legs that went out from under him way before he was low enough for a fall to be a good idea. He fell, tumbling over himself to land bruised but silently laughing in a tangle of his own awkward limbs, lunging to his feet and trying to appear innocent when the next moment Liz stepped around the corner and nearly ran into him.

Her reaction was strange, only set him to laughing more as she grabbed him by the shoulders, by the wrists, looked him over as if not believing the sight and then joined him in his laughter, tears in her eyes. Very strange. People were very, very strange and he would probably never understand them. Even if he tried. Too busy laughing to try right now. His wrist hurt where Liz had hold of it and suddenly for no reason at all his laughter turned to choking and his eyes got all big and scared and he wanted out, out! wanted to get away where he could breathe and move and…very deliberately he stopped himself, heart pounding and breath still catching in his throat, on the verge of pulling away from Liz and dashing for the door, and when he looked at her again the laughter had almost returned to his eyes and he could breathe again. Just like that. Well. It’s not just other people who are strange. Looks like you are pretty doggone strange yourself, Einar.

Liz sat down with him on the bottom step, tried to look into his eyes. “What was that? Are you ok?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Einar, you were unconscious for the last two days. In and out. When you were awake, you were…delirious, or something. We had to…” She wouldn’t finish it, and at that particular moment, he did not want to know why not. Rubbed his sore wrist and inexplicably felt like throwing up. Swallowed the feeling, looked at her very gravely, face grey.

“I’m sorry. I did not…remember. Don’t remember. Not ok. It’s like Bud said. Unacceptable.”

“Bud said that? No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to say, at all. I’m just glad you came back. Hey, could you drink some water?”

“Sure.”

Sure? Who is this guy? It’s not usually so easy… She got the water, he took a sip, eyes got big and he tried to gulp down the entire cup, coughed and choked and hung on tight when she tried to take it away from him.

“Slow down, slow down. You haven’t had anything to drink since you got back. We tried, but…hey, I’m not going to take it away. Just give yourself some time...”

He waited. Susan came in, carrying Will. She met Liz’s eyes and something seemed to pass between them, something Einar did not understand. Some question. He wondered about it, but had no time to try and puzzle it out, Will squirming loose from Susan the moment he saw his father, toddling over and beginning a long, very involved babbled story that seemed to focus mostly on the raven, and a dump truck. Somewhere in the telling the boy climbed up in Einar’s lap, grabbed his father’s hand to steady himself and it was all Einar could do to keep himself still and avoid throwing his son off and running for the door. He waited, frozen in place, until Will finished his story and bounced off to find the raven. Einar got shakily to his feet, back to the wall, hands tucked under his arms where no one would get at them.

“I think there may be something you’d better tell me about, Lizzie…”

[gipsysmith]

Hope that he is cleared of all charges and can live life with his family in peace now.

[icefire]

Thanks for the latest chapter, Chris! Glad Einar is back to the land of the living.