Meeting Destiny (39 page)

As I went to take the chair next to his, I heard one of the horses whinny loudly and stamp its hooves. Max had tied them to a line that gave them a good bit of space to graze, but something had spooked the animal. He watched the horse that was tugging on its line, and the more resistance it felt, the more effort it seemed to put into pulling, and the louder its hooves sounded on the earth.

As both our gazes were fixed on the horse, we heard a wolf’s howl – loud and long. The sound was very close; its proximity to us froze me to my chair. Max’s reaction was exactly opposite. This new noise coupled with the horse that was already trying to break free scared the other two horses. The stomping of hooves sounded like hammers pounding on a job site. Max stood up and spoke to the animals in an effort to calm them, but Ursula, the large bay that had carried all our supplies, showed no signs of being comforted. She continued to pull her lead, shaking her head until we both heard an audible snap and she was free. She took off at a gallop with her lead dragging behind her straight down the mountain the way we had come.

“
Dammit! I’ve got to go get her. Can you stay with the fire?” I nodded and Max grabbed Christy’s bridle and was on her back, without aid of a saddle, galloping at full speed down the mountain after the renegade horse.

In less than a minute, the sound of hooves hitting earth faded in the distance, and I found myself alone by the fire. I looked at Mischief, the horse I had ridden today, and she too began stomping the earth much the way the first horse had. I left the warmth of the fire to go make sure she was secured to her stake. As I closed the distance, I heard the wolf’s howl again, still loud and now sounding even closer than the last time. The sound made my heart skip a beat and my danger sense screamed to life. I could feel the prickly feeling; I didn’t need to look at my arms to know that the hair on them stood at attention. As I paused to try to calm myself, Mischief yanked hard on her lead and shook her head. I took a step toward her, as she reared up onto her back legs and shook her head. With an audible
snap,
she was free and running in the opposite direction from the others.

I stood frozen for a second. Should I go after her? I would never be able to catch her. She was running as fast as the first horse. I whistled, trying to sound like Max, but she gave no hesitation. I could hear breathing, not like that of a human but of something much larger. Not turning my back on the site that Mischief had just bolted from, I started walking backward toward the fire. I willed my eyes to adjust to the near pitch black to see if I could make out any kind of a form.

I could still hear some sort of animal’s breathing. Not having spent much time in the great outdoors, I could only think the sound had to be a bear. It was loud, a steady rhythm breathing in and out. As I could feel my back approaching the warmth of the fire, I stole a glance over my shoulder and saw that I was only feet away from the fire still ablaze and bright. It didn’t need it, but I took three more large logs and put them on it to make sure it kept burning bright. Animals instinctively do not like fire, so whatever I was hearing should stay away from it. It would also serve as a beacon to Max so he could find his way back.

I reached in my backpack for my phone. I started to hit the power button to call someone and let them know what was going on, but who? My mom, Seth, Rachael? No, I couldn’t call any of them. They would be in a panic with absolutely nothing they could do and would feel helpless if I told them I was scared and alone in the middle of nowhere. Besides it only had half a charge when I shut it off. Wasting battery on a phone call would be a terrible idea.

My breathing became a little more regular, but the hair on my arms was still warning me not to let my guard down. I remember Max kept a hand gun in his truck. If he knew we were going into the mountains, it would stand to reason that he would have brought it along on the trip. I reached for his backpack and quickly dug through everything in search of his black plastic carrying case; I felt nothing and looked at the other miscellaneous bags, trying to think where he might have tucked it. As I was ripping through the last duffle bag, frantically searching, I heard a man clear his throat. I sprang up from the ground and screamed, not a little muffled scream from being startled, but the blood curdling scream of a frightened little girl.

The man didn’t even flinch. He turned his head slightly as if he were studying me. “Oh my gosh, am I glad to see you!” I moved a few steps in his direction; any human contact at this minute was welcomed. Without waiting for an answer from him, “There is some sort of big animal over there,” I pointed at the trees where I had heard the labored breathing.

As I pointed, the man made no effort to look in that direction; he only continued to look in my direction with mild curiosity. He said nothing. He was wearing old, worn blue jeans – not the kind that you buy that look worn, but pants that looked as though they had been through hell. His t-shirt had some sort of writing on it, long since the color had faded from whatever the shirt advertised. He wore flip flops. His choice of footwear was inappropriate for someone so far up the mountain. The whole way there had been barely foot trails through the thick forest and vines full of sticky bushes.

As I studied him, he looked almost unnatural, un-nerving was a better description. He was built very large, well over six feet tall. His arms were hanging at his side, his mocha skin colored from the sun; but there were no age lines at all on his face. He looked to be in his mid thirties. He stared at me with interest, but, again, said nothing; his expression was neither welcoming nor a warning, but his eyes never left mine.

“
Are you from around here?”

His reaction was a simple nod, still absent any facial expression that would put me at ease.

I held out my hand, “I’m Lauren.” The stranger looked at my outstretched hand but made no move to take it in his. I eased my hand away from him and put it in my pocket as if this weren’t very rude of him to ignore the formality.

“
Do you have a name?” I asked as I began to wonder if he were mute.

The same response as before, a slight nod but nothing audible; the stranger continued to watch me. It gave me the creeps, and my mind filled with questions, none of which I wanted to ask him. I couldn’t stand the silence from this stranger.

“
My boyfriend and I are camping for a couple weeks up here. One of our horses got spooked and he went after her. I stayed here with the fire. He should be back anytime.” For the first time I smelled the food that Max had started before his abrupt departure; it smelled wonderful. I asked him, “Are you hungry?”

To this question the stranger looked over my shoulder at the camping stove then back to me. He nodded that yes he was hungry. I turned my back on him briefly to check on the dinner cooking. It was steak and potatoes. I stirred the food briefly, scraped off the potatoes that had gotten scorched, and put a decent sized helping on a plate for my unexpected visitor. I reached for a fork and extended my arm with the food for him. He shook his head. The stranger had now been here for five minutes and had not said a word. When he refused the food, I didn’t know what to think.

“
I’m sorry, I thought you were hungry.” The aroma from the food was wonderful, and if this whack job didn’t want any, I was going to be rude and eat in front of him because I was starving. He neither nodded his agreement or disagreement with my statement; he did not move closer or farther away from me. I sat in one of the vacant camping chairs and ate the food I had offered him. Although I avoided his eyes, I could feel them on me the entire time I ate, and silently I was praying Max would come galloping back into the campsite any second. When the plate was completely bare, I looked back at the man.

“
Do you need something? There is some dinner left on the camp stove. Are you cold? Are you here because of the heat from the fire? Do you even talk?” The only response I received was again a small affirmative nod.

My mind was racing, wondering which question was he answering yes to. I listened again for the sound of hooves but heard nothing. Max hadn’t been gone that long, but how far would he have gone? I was alone in the middle of nowhere, with a peculiar stranger who scared me. For the first time he took a step in my direction, and I could feel the adrenaline shoot through my body as if it had been injected with a syringe. My blood was racing through my veins, my hands began to shake, every hair follicle on my body was standing up straight.

The stranger took another step closer and I let out a gasp. He placed both his hands on my arms and stared deep into my eyes as if he were searching for something. I didn’t break his stare but my shakes erupted into near convulsions. The man gripped my arms more firmly and finally spoke directly into my ear.

“
You must choose, do you wish to have a damned life or a quick death?”

The stranger did not move his mouth from my ear nor loosen his steel grip on my arms when I attempted to struggle away from him. This time, rather than a whimper, I screamed as loud and long as I could. If Max were anywhere on the mountain, he would have heard me.

The stranger’s grip on me tightened as he hissed, “Choose now, young one, or I will choose for you.”

There was nothing, darkness, my heart felt empty. Was I dead? Was I alive? Where was I? I couldn’t feel my arms or legs. I could see nothing and hear nothing but my thoughts. Was this death? The only thing that seemed to work was my mind. What was the last thing I could remember? A stranger coming to me, offering me death or a cursed life; what kind of choice was that? And what choice had I made?

It was as if my mind were somehow disconnected from my body. I wasn’t in any pain, but I couldn’t feel anything. The electrical impulses that I had always taken for granted to move my body at will were absent. I concentrated on feeling my fingertips and couldn’t. I tried with all my willpower to move a finger, again – nothing.

I tried to make my eyes open and something inside told me they were open, but I could only see darkness. There was no light anywhere. There were no sound vibrations for my ears to hear. This must be death.

But if I were dead, where was the white light, the city of gold, the pearly gates? Where were my grandparents? Where was Paul? Death couldn’t possibly be nothingness, could it? All the stories had always promised death was its own reward. How could this feeling be a reward?

I stayed in the darkness, alone with only my thoughts. Is this what we take with us? Our imagination and memories are all we have when a life is over? I thought of Paul, how his struggle in life nearly made his death seem peaceful. Paul did nothing to deserve a death. His worst mistake was trying to be a showoff at the mall, attempting to get a girl’s attention. I wondered if we were both dead, could we communicate the way Rewsna had communicated with me while I was alive?

My mind wandered a little when I remembered telling Max about Rewsna. He believed the whole story, believed in me, believed that there was a force in the universe that wanted us to be together. It seemed strange that one of my last conversations with Max had been talking about our future. I replayed those precious few minutes in my mind; he was my future and now my life was over.

I’ve never been to another country. I’ve never made a difference in anyone’s life - except for Paul - and one could argue that I was responsible or at least a contributing factor to his death. In my mind I yelled out, “Paul, can you hear me? Are you there? Paul, I’m so sorry. Maybe this is the punishment I get from the universe for shortening your life. I wish I could go back and do it again; I promise I wouldn’t have called the police. Paul, are you there?”

Nothing. No response from Paul, no response from anyone. I was alone with my thoughts. I began begging God to end this, not to leave me suspended like this. If I were being punished, take everything. Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts. I replayed Paul’s death, the gun shot, listening to his last words as blood filled his lungs and his heart gave up. I remembered how I wanted to fold inside myself, but Max wouldn’t let me; my first kiss with Max in the hospital, our morning on the shooting range, spending that first perfect day together. I thought I had so much more time. I thought our time together would last forever, until we were too old even to remember how we had met. Yet in death, I found myself reliving every one of our moments, thousands of time over.

If I were dead, Max must be devastated. I thought how he must have returned to camp and found my body. Did he try to revive me again? Maybe we were destined to be together only a short time. We had things we had to accomplish. What were they? Empathy, Trust, Virtue and Passion – what better way to learn to empathize with what had happened to Paul than to be killed myself? Death is nothing like I had ever imagined. I don’t know what I expected; Max told me we chose each other before we were born and chose our obstacles for this life. How did we do that? Were we suspended in nothingness and happened across each other? Is that what I was now, just suspended? How long do I have to wait for Max? How long have I already waited? It could have been seconds or days or even years. Time meant little. I didn’t feel pain, there was no agony, only thoughts. Or maybe because Max and I didn’t accomplish the things we were supposed to I was being punished by the universe?