Coming Home

[FOTH]

Some time later, the entire population of the house gathered expectantly around the supper table waiting for a big pot of Susan's famous broccoli-cheese-noodle soup and homemade rolls, Einar sat back in his chair, ramrod-straight and trying not to shiver, and watched Dima. The two men had, in the interest of ongoing domestic peace and serenity, been placed at opposite ends of the table where they sat silently regarding one another as Susan served the meal, Dima at times still appearing to momentarily suppress laughter as some private humor played across his face. Einar was not sure he liked the looks of that. What did the man know? What was his real purpose at Bud's?

No immediate answers were to be forthcoming, it was clear, as the stranger fell on his food with a ferocity well matched to Einar's own hunger, leaving the fugitive to wonder which of them might have been without for longer. Not so easy for Einar to do something about the situation, every bite an effort for him and the stranger already on his third bowl--and fourth roll, for Einar had seen him discreetly tuck one into the pocket of his cargo pants when no one else was looking--before he managed to make his way through three bites. Well. Nothing new there. For Liz's sake, seeing the pained expression with which she watched him, he made an effort to keep going. Got too tired after bite five, had to stop lest he risk choking. Which left more of his attention free for watching the newcomer, suiting Einar just fine.

Studying the man, he saw that characteristics which he had earlier ascribed to youthfulness could more rightly be attributed to physical robustness and a certain wary but lighthearted manner with which the man carried himself. His face, seen in the bright atmosphere of the dining room, bore the marks of either age or a great deal of mileage and hard use, though Einar could not immediately determine which. He was spared further contemplation by Roger, who could restrain his own curiosity no longer.

"Where'd you come from, Asmundson? No one would say what happened to you, so I thought maybe you took off somewhere."

"I did. Surveying job, you might say. Been crawling around in muddy tunnels all under this mountain, that's where. Taking inventory, trying not to run up against any tripwires or get hit in the head and dragged under by little guys in black pajamas... You remember the days. Tunnels of Arizona. Haven't you heard of them?"

Roger looked skeptical, glanced at Bud for guidance but received none, so he shook his head and let the matter drop.

After the last soup bowl had been polished and Susan's peach cobbler was nearly gone, Einar got up and moved to an empty chair closer to Dima, Bud keeping a wary eye. No violence, just a discrete tap on the cargo pocket from Einar, a brief narrowing of the Serb's eyes before he rapidly regained his composure, nodded to Einar.

"Pretty good eyes for a nearly dead guy."

"Dima." Einar settled back in his chair. "What is that...Dimitriy? Vladimir?"

"Just Dima, for you. Is ok you call me that, even though I do not know you too long. Friend of Bud is friend of mine."

Einar nodded--clearly the man wanted to maintain some semblance of anonymity, a position the fugitive could well understand, if not under present circumstances entirely trust--and they shook hands.

"You have also pretty good grip for a mostly dead guy," Dima laughed.

"It's getting kinda old, Dima, Bud warned, pulling up a chair. "Einar here was already astute at living and fighting and prevailing as a mostly-dead guy when you were still runnin' around in diapers. Or nappies. Or whatever they call 'em in your dusty little corner of the world. It suits him. Right, Einar? "

"Right."

"Ya, suit him," Dima laughed, "Suit him real good. Ok, got it. I not keep saying. But one thing I want to know. Tell me?"

"Depends," Einar responded flatly

[woofbarkenarf]

I am pleased to see more of the Einar saga. I was hoping that you would find time to continue. I hope all is well with you.

[FOTH]

Dima nodded. "Of course, depends. So. Tell me. You really guy who shoot down helicopter with a longbow and hide in rocks cooking wild turkey while it burns? Or this is only part of legend?"

Now it was Einar's turn to try not to laugh. Tried hard, face remaining serious for a moment, eyes twinkling, but the part about the turkey got him and it didn't work. For nearly a full minute he sat there doubled over in his chair, laughing and shivering and trying not to lose the little bit of supper he had managed to get down. Finally he righted himself, wiped his eyes and braced his hands on his knees.

"No, Dima, I am not that guy. I may have been there in the general vicinity. Maybe. Pressed into a little crevice in the rock trying not to get shot as they ricocheted bullets off the opposite wall and started closing in on my position, hanging on for dear life so I didn't go over the edge and get bashed on tye rocks below and trying real hard not to freeze to death because they'd had me pinned down in there for so long... And the chopper may have gone down. Maybe. But if it did, a stray gust of wind and a close encounter with a red sandstone wall had an awful lot more to do with it than my little homemade longbow. And I can absolutely guarantee you there was no fire-roasted turkey. Ever. I would remember. Where does one hear legends like these, anyway?"

"It is, how you say, coming through the vineyard."

"Grapevine, Dima," Bud corrected. You heard it through the grapevine."

"Vineyard is for grapevines, no?"

"Yeah, yeah it is, but you see, we don't... "

"Funny language, this one of yours. The more I hear, the less is making sense. We would say..."

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Susan protested, bustling to her feet and beginning to clear the table. "You gentlemen can sit here and argue about idioms all night if you really want to, but some of us need to be heading for bed." She nodded at Liz, who was cradling the sleeping Will against her shoulder, but her eyes were on Einar, his own eyes drooping, shivering heavily as his body found itself unable to compensate for the evening chill and looking as though he might be about to pass out. The man clearly had been without the benefit of sleep for more than a night or two.

Everyone got the hint, rose and helped her clear the table. Roger had a cot in the corner of the living room, Einar saw, folded blankets on the couch indicating its utility as a second bed. "Were you ok on the couch last night, Dima?" Susan asked.

"Not ok, very good. Very, very good. Much better than hard metal floor with two millimeter of salt water."

Susan looked momentarily confused, then shot Bud a withering glance. "Hard metal floor! Oh, we would never ask a guest of ours to sleep on a hard metal floor, and if Bud told you any differently... "

"No, not here. Before. It has been very long journey to this place. Not so comfortable accommodations in cargo shipping container, but results very good," and he grinned at Roger, who winked, shrugged and pretended not to have the slightest idea what he was talking about.


By the time Liz got Will to bed and came back for Einar she found him crouched in a corner, eyes wide open as he tried to follow the conversation, but clearly struggling to stay upright. She caught Roger's eye, knew he had got the message when he rose, stretched and headed for his cot. Excusing himself, it was all Einar could do to make it up the suddenly very complex-seeming convolutions of the spiral staircase before collapsing, knees on the floor and forehead on the bed, like a child saying his prayers. Liz, hating to wake him, might have left him there all night had he not remained so dreadfully cold, but as it was she worked to wake him, taking his hands and trying to talk him up onto the bed.

"Einar, come get warm. I've missed you... "

Einar startled, sat upright and nearly toppled over backwards. "Got to keep watch. I..."

"No. Bud and Roger will keep watch, just like they did while you were gone. You come up here with me and get warm, so you can sleep and be ready to keep watch tomorrow. "

Some sense in what she was saying, an exhaustion in him so heavy as to have prevented nearly any useful activity to which he might have aspired, and finally he crept up onto the bed, allowed her to wrap herself--unbelievably, unimaginably warm--around his trembling, skeletal frame and begin to thaw him just a bit for the first time since his flight from the cabin, thaw him from the icy mud of the tunnel.

Sleep, then, sleep too sound for dreams despite shivering so hard that he nearly woke Will over on the other side of the bed, and Liz pulled the quilt up to his ears, joined him in sleep. Which, unfortunately, was not to last nearly long enough for him to finish warming up

[pilot11]

Nov 7, 2019 2:32:07 GMT -6 steelbutterfly said:

Yay! Thank you! A new twist? New enemies?
Nothing specifically to do with Einar?
Someone that Bud has pissed off?

Yes! I agree. Thanks FOTH, glad you are back!

[FOTH]

Welcome back to you, too, pilot11! Good to see that some people I recognize over the years are still reading. Thank you.

---------------


Unaccustomed as he was in recent days to circumstances which would safely allow for sleep, Einar's mind brought him abruptly back to wakefulness before an hour had passed. Liz woke also, could feel him tense up, ready for action, ready to leave, and she tightened her grip about his shoulders, hoping the moment would pass.

"What is it? What do you need?"

His answer came softly so as not to be heard by anyone who might be awake down below. "Need to go. Three of us need to clear out of here. "

"Four."

"Four. Tonight. "

"I know it seems that way. Getting crowded here. But you know Roger is a cautious guy. He got us here without a problem, after all, and Bud is sure they weren't followed...they took a lot of precautions, you know. While you were gone."

"I don't like it. Dima."

"You seemed to be getting along alright, towards the end tonight. I think maybe he's like a lot of Bud's friends. Kind of strange at first, but grows on you over time. Will likes him. "

That's not what I mean. Talking about security risks. One more person knowing where we are, knowing who we are...not a good risk. "

"Possibly. Where do you want to go?

"Home, Liz. Home to the place I know. "

"It's a long walk..."

He was quiet. Tired. So awfully tired that he ached with it, was crushed by it, air pressed out of his lungs, muscles gone and bones pounded to dust. Felt as though a week of sleep wouldn't touch it, would not even begin. No way he was making that walk. Yet, he had to, could see no way around it, and had always found or made a way to do what must be done. Tried to sit up, but could not seem to accomplish even that small act. Rolled over and used his arms to push himself upright, sat there beside Liz with knees drawn up to his chest, shivering hard at the absence of the quilt and trying to formulate a plan that could be turned into action. She saved him the trouble.

"Tomorrow. Let's talk about it tomorrow. If we take off out of here tonight, it's going to be really obvious both to everyone at the house, and if anyone happened to be watching...isn't it better if we slip away in the midst of all the activity of the day? I mean, if we really are set on going."

Some sense there. He hoped. Hoped he was not merely giving in to the voice of his own exhaustion when he sank back down beside her, nodding, too spent even for words.

Morning. Not quite light yet, but getting there. Conversation from below. In Serbian. Einar lay pressed up against Liz, warm for the first time in days and feeling too heavy to move, but he wanted to move, wanted to get closer to the stairs where he would have a better chance of making out the conversation. Which, he realized, he must already have been doing to some extent, because despite the language barrier he was somehow aware that they had been discussing travel plans. Rolling carefully onto his stomach to avoid disturbing Liz, Einar raised himself to his elbows, tilting his head to better hear the quiet words from below. He spoke no Serbian, but had at one time in the dim and distant past been quite fluent in Russian, and there was enough crossover between the two tongues to allow him to follow the conversation. More or less.

Dima wanted to leave, wanted to do it sooner than later, and Roger was trying to dissuade him, convince him that the danger was too great. What danger? Einar wondered, but they never addressed the matter further, went on to specifics about Bud's place, about escape routes into the surrounding hills, the general topography of the area, and Einar was half tempted to join the conversation, but did not want Dima knowing that he could more or less follow along. Wanted to preserve whatever advantage this fact might offer him until he learned more about the man, discerned whether he was more threat or ally.


Threat, for sure, regardless of his personal disposition and intentions, if only because he knew the whereabouts of Einar and his family, knew who they were. Einar did not like that, recognizing that the circle of knowledge was far too large already with Bud, Susan and Roger--much as he did trust both the intentions and discretion of all three--and now Dima, a wildcard if he had ever met one, had been added to the crowd

[ebb]

OHH I posted in the wrong place. Glad you are back writing again.

[FOTH]

Welcome back, ebb! And a Merry Christmas to all of you.

-------------------

Einar waited until the conversation below had died down before descending the stairs to join the two men in the living room, not wanting them to suspect him of having heard anything. Roger nodded a brief good morning as Einar took a seat on the bottom step but Dima did not so much as look his direction, staring out the window and appearing entirely lost in thought. Einar followed his gaze, corner of his mouth turning up in the beginnings of a twisted smile at the sight of Munnin the raven sitting on the deck railing, black eyes sparkling as he did his very innovative best to break into a bird feeder meant for much smaller creatures.

Wanting a better perspective from which to observe the bird's antics Einar rose, went to the window. Dima jumped as he passed, hand involuntarily dropping to the holster he wore on his left leg. Einar managed to prevent himself from reacting, keep moving and the moment passed, the Serb smiling apologetically and joining him at the window. For a minute they watched Muninn in silence, the raven finally noticing Einar and hop-flapping over to the windowsill, tilting his head and tapping at the glass.

"Bird is friend, I see?"

"Muninn. Yes, he's been with us for a long time."

"Is like old Viking stories. Wanderer and his raven. Only you have still both your eyes."

A little half smile from Einar. "So far."

"You are wandering soon again?"

Einar shot the man a sideways glance, seeking to in some way ascertain his intention in asking such a question, but Dima was still watching the raven, would not look at him. Just as well. Einar had never been very good at gaining information or understanding by studying the human face, and there was no reason to think this time would have been any different.

"Could be. Why?"

"I also am wanderer. Far from my home. "

"So I gathered."

The conversation ended then in silence, focus shifting to the raven, each man perhaps having more to say, to ask of the other, but neither wanting to be the first to do it. Besides which, there was the language barrier, though perhaps more from Einar's end than Dima's.

Silence did not last long, Will the next moment putting in an appearance at the top of the spiral staircase, flapping his little arms and doing quite a decent imitation of the raven's harsh call. Einar was half concerned that he might try flying, next, but the boy seemed content to mostly limit his ravenly activities to vocalizations, trotting down the stairs without falling even once (a first) and making a quick circle around first Einar and then Dima before "flying" to the window and speaking to the raven in the bird's own tongue. Soon tiring of this pastime Will ran back over to Dima, grabbing the leg of his pants and asking the man a series of rapid-fire questions, without leaving time between for answers. Unable to quite comprehend what he was being asked, Dima answered in Serbian. You fly like a bird and you talk like one too, little man, Einar roughly translated in his head.

Will, having never been spoken to in anything but English, was fascinated, and did his best to respond in kind, the resulting imitation of Dima's inflection causing everyone to burst into laughter. Aside from Will, who had been making a sincere and focused attempt at communication.

"This guy, he can be speaking many languages soon."

"He's really trying, isn't he," said Liz, hurrying down the stairs after her escaped charge. "Maybe you can teach him."

Any lesson that might have been about to take place was interrupted when Bud, back from his morning patrol, strode into the house and clapped Dima on the back. "Well, what do you say, is today the day my friend, Dima the Wolf?"

A brief moment of something that looked an awful lot like panic in Dima's eyes as he glanced from Bud to Einar and back again, shook his head discreetly as if hoping only the tracker would see. Bud just chuckled. "Oh, Dima, not to worry. Old Einar here is no threat to you, not like that, anyway. Most wanted man in America, this one is, and not in a good way. Nothing to fear, here."

"Ya. Is exactly my concern."

And Dima hurried out of the room, leaving Einar quietly nodding and Liz wondering what she had just witnessed

[woofbarkenarf]

Merry Christmas to you as well. Thanks for the update!

[FOTH]

Roger followed Dima as he let himself out the door, Liz taking Will and joining Susan in her breakfast preparations. Halfway through grating a potato for hashbrowns she stopped, looked up at Bud, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table.

"What were you talking about, that we aren't a threat to to him? Why would he think any differently?"

"Sometimes," Bud rose, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, "the less one knows, the better. Right, Asmundson?" No answer from Einar. "Let's just say that my little house here is on occasion a stop along the way for folks who are wanted by other than the US Government, and while I would never deliberately plan things so that two such visitors overlap...well, stuff happens, and so here we are."

"Things'd probably go smoother if you folks didn't ask Dima too many questions. You saw how he reacted when I made a passing reference to his last name a while ago. Fella's been through a lot to get here, and he's worried--needlessly, as I was trying to tell him earlier--that you folks might try to use your knowledge of him as capitol to trade your way out of your own troubles. Now, I've tried to explain that things don't work that way over here, but...well, you know what it's like being in that position."

Einar was quiet for a minute before responding deliberately. "A precarious position for us all, it seems. One more reason for my little crew to be getting out of your hair. The sooner, the better. Free up space for some of your other projects. "

"Ha! I'm certainly hoping not to have other 'projects' anytime real soon. This place is getting to be like Grand Central Station, around here! Look, though, 'mostly-dead-guy.' No need for you to rush things. Plenty of room here for the present occupants, and if it's all the same to you, I'd sure feel better about things if you stuck around until you're able to put on a little weight, have a better chance of makin' it out there."

"I'll make it. Always have. So far. Think it really is best we take off here real soon. We've been here too long as it is, and we all know the risk increases as more people are added to the mix. "

"Yeah, I do. On principle. But in reality, Dima's no more a threat to you than you are to him, and for all of the same reasons. The two of you really ought to try and relax for a few days, rest up, let things be."

"Easier said than done, Kilgore."

"My Serbian friend says the same. Told Roger this morning that he's determined to clear out of here, too. Hey! Maybe you folks ought to go together! Minimize the risk. "

"Concentrate the risk, you mean. No, I'm pretty sure that his path, wherever it leads, does not go in the same direction as ours. "

"Don't be so sure about that. He needs to break pattern--kinda has already, just by ending up here, but needs to keep it up--you need to break pattern, so think about it: Roger ships the lot of you to Thailand, and you live happily ever after. Or something. "

"Something. No happily ever after for me in any Thai jungle, Kilgore. I'll stick to my mountains."

"Yeah. Alaska, then. Mongolia.  Altai Mountains.  I don't know. Break pattern, Asmundson. Do something unexpected for a change."

"How does one get to Mongolia in a shipping container?"

Bud snorted in disgust, rose from his crouch. "Beats me. Ask Roger. That man can work absolute wonders with cargo, you know."

"Kilgore, yeah, it makes some kind of sense, for sure. But I'm a mountain critter. Rocky Mountains. Not looking to start over, not to that extent. I'm just looking to go home."

[icefire]

Wow, Chris, glad I "found" you again! Had changed computers, and lost the link. Found in again in a link that 2MedicineWoman posted in another forum I'm on. Have the link saved to my favorites, now, so can keep caught up. Glad to see you're posting again!

[redneckpackrat]

Well, that's what I get for expecting I'm going to see an email saying you've posted. LOL. On the up side, I had a couple months' worth of posts to read.

Glad to see 'em all, it kinda feels like going to a reunion after skipping a few. Happy to see everbody's okay and gettin' on with things.

Thanks for finding time to continue with the story, Chris. I don't think I'm one of the originals, but I came in during the time of the nuthouse, too. Amazing it's been that long since whatsisname crapped in his own treehouse.

Bill

[FOTH]

Good to see you back here, Icefire and RedneckPackrat/Goliad!

-----------------

While anxious to be on his way to safer, more familiar and less crowded territory, Einar had to concede that Liz might have a point when she insisted, having overhead his conversation with Kilgore, that they not leave that day. Not quite yet. Despite resisting it with the rather considerable entirety of his will as well as his significant if somewhat less considerable strength, Einar was gripped that morning by an exhaustion the likes of which he could seldom remember encountering. Must be the tunnel. Long crawl through that tunnel.... Had to keep on his feet or he knew he would fall asleep, could feel it out there lurking, waiting for him to let his guard down, and then, watching Munnin out the window while Dima and Roger spoke quietly in the living room and Susan and Liz finished preparing breakfast, he fell asleep despite being on his feet.

For a while Einar, long accustomed to being able to choose a position and maintain it no matter what, managed to remain more or less standing despite being fast asleep, Dima's words heard vaguely as though from a great distance, dreaming, and the man was not a man any longer but a wolf, silver-grey in the evening light under fall-yellow aspens as he followed Muninn the raven. Stopping, sniffing, nose in the air and ears sharp he scanned a saddle-meadow that stretched wide and windy between the dark bulk of two snow-dusted peaks, waiting, keeping to the trees as though afraid to venture out in the open. The raven, too, seemed possessed of an unusual degree of caution, flapping slowly from one tree to the next and occasionally letting out little soft little chortling cries as he tilted his head at the wolf, but refusing, also, to commit himself to the grassy openness of the meadow.

By that time Einar, Liz following with Will, had caught up to the two animals and began urging them to follow him out into the open. Growling, body pressed into the earth and ears flattened against his head, the wolf sought to bar his way but did not stop him when he pushed past and began a hurried, zigzagging course across the expanse of yellowed grass and fall-expired skunk cabbages and lupines. Moving quickly and with a growing if ill-defined sense of dread, Einar made it nearly halfway across the saddle before he heard it. Helicopter, and it was already close, way too close, popping up from behind the ridge and bearing down on him with a speed that he could not hope to match, air catching in his lungs, and then...then he dived for a little depression in the ground, his only hope, fell, brought sharply back to reality when the side of his head made sudden contact with an end table on the way down.

Wide awake now but confused at the helicopter-rumble which followed him unabated into wakefulness, louder, nearer, if anything, Einar dived behind the sofa only to find himself face-to-face with a somewhat wild-eyed Dima, who must have sought cover at the same time but from the opposite direction. As soon as the rumbling had adequately faded Dima hurried to extricate himself from behind the furniture, face somber but eyes laughing as he offered Einar a hand.

"Was close one, ya?"

Between the lingering strangeness of the dream and the knock to the head Einar did not entirely trust himself to answer but he nodded, accepted the offered hand and scrambled to his feet. Bud had been watching the chopper from the kitchen window, turned to the two men, shaking his head. "Dima, you're almost as bad as Einar, here. Better get a handle handle on that stuff, before you end up like him, someday.

"What is 'like him?' Maybe I also start shooting down aircrafts with longbow, soon? "

"Not what I meant, Dimka, and you know it," Bud growled, but if the Serb did know he certainly wasn't letting on, studying Einar critically for a moment as if attempting to assess his chances of ending up like the fugitive in one way or another, some good there and definitely some bad as well, but one has the life one has, and no other, and...and enough of philosophy, that was what. Plenty of time for that later, after he'd got things figured out, decided on his next move, his path through immediate troubles. Feeling Einar's eyes on him--wild, spooky eyes, like those of the half-grown wolf he'd seen once as a child, in a trap, defiant, dangerous despite its hopeless predicament--and finding the experience uncomfortable he turned, took a seat on the sofa and absorbed himself in a Field Guide to Wild Medicinal Plants of Arizona.

Breakfast time, then, Liz leading Einar somewhat unwillingly to the table and seating him beside Will, who sat perched precariously in his chair atop a stack of encyclopedias, banging his spoon on the table and singing a little song about potatoes.

Just in time for the meal Roger, who had slipped out into the carport at the first approaching rumble of the helicopter, returned and sat beside Einar.

"What d'you think?" Bud nodded toward the window.

"He was pretty low, pretty slow to call it routine, I'd say. Didn't circle back, though. Let's hold off on any decisions for the moment, see how the day develops