The Passing Part 3

The story ends

I put a hand over my heart again and could feel it beat against my palm. It shot out as if a horse was kicking me from the inside, vibrating my rib cage. Slow down, I told myself, just slow down. This was too much, way too much. Stop. Just stop. Don’t think about it. It will go away.
          A red cardinal flew above the car, then dropped just above the hood and smacked the windshield. I watched as it slid down the cracked glass, settling in the mass of snow that had collected on the hood.
          Along with the bird came another rush of warm blood. A vision came but only a quick glimpse of the forest.
          I felt the adrenaline once more. My heart flew into another series of rapid beats. My whole chest felt like steam would soon rise from it. “Slow down,” I said. “Just slow down.”
          I looked to the sky and saw a black cloud of crows. No, not any more, I thought, I don’t think my heart can take any more. The ravens dove down towards the car, and one by one, they plummeted to their deaths. I could hear them thumping on the hood as they rained down all around me, in a deluge of black feathers and small bodies, five of them, ten now, twelve. With each dead bird came another rush. And several visions all at once, of the forest:
          Trees passing under me. The road. Houses. Cars. Trucks. Power lines. A cabin. I tried fixing on the cabin. There were many of them. I saw a man getting onto a four-wheeler. Anthony. He was coming.
          I snapped back when a bird landed on my lap. It had gone through the driver’s side window. I jumped, straining my legs.
          I felt my face turn blood red. Searing heat was rising to my brain. My heart wasn’t slowing. It pounded as if it were trying to burst from my chest.
          For a minute, I stared at the dead bird. Its feathers were like oil with swirls of purple at the edges. Its yellow beak was turned to the right, shut, and sharp; its beady black eyes were still and small.
          Calm yourself. What was happening to me? Was I going to have a heart attack? Breathe. Just breathe.
          I took a deep breath and held it. I could hear my heart now, right at my ear. It pounded. I let out the breath. Better. Try again. Another deep breath. Even better. My heart, however, never slowed and my body’s temperature remained, but I was handling it now, I thought.
          A few more breaths. “Hey, Julie, I caught a bird.”
          I put my hand on the bird. It was still warm.
          And as quickly as it came, the adrenaline I had been feeling, was now leaving. I felt it pouring from me. It was as if my arm was a hose and I had somehow connected it to the bird. It felt like a hot milky liquid was channeling through my arm. I could feel it leaving my head, my chest. Only so much left me, though, before it finally stopped. I thought I felt the bird moving under the pressure of my hand. A brush from its feathers, a poke from its beak. Yes, it was moving.
          A vision: Darkness all around me. I felt around. My hand went so far before it touched something hard. Then a crack appeared in the darkness. Soon I was outside and there were others just like me. What was this? A nest?
          Beneath my hand, the bird was trying to move its wings. Its beak opened, sending a song of panic from its throat. It twisted its neck back and forth, trying to break free. Then the wings flapped. I pulled my hand away. The bird leapt from my lap in a downpour of feathers.
          I swung at it, batting at it with an open hand when it came near my face. It was chirping fast, high-pitched notes. Its mouth wide, its claws lashing out, trying to scratch me. It tore into my cheek. I got a hit on it and it went for Julie.
          Its wings were smacking her face. Her hair, fanned out from each small blast of wind. I swung at the bird, hitting it and causing it to fly out of the hole at the passenger door.
          “Jesus, what the hell was going on? Damn bird, tried to kill me.”
          After rubbing my cheek, I found blood on my fingers. Was that bird even dead to begin with? I thought. Were any of these animals dead? I looked out at the cardinal on the hood of the car. It still laid there. I decided I would touch it.
          I reached my hand out, tearing more flesh at my legs and put a finger on the bird. And just as the raven in my lap had done, the red cardinal too, sprung to life and flew away. Another vision of cracking darkness came to me. And I lost a little more of the adrenaline. Some remained, though. I could feel it in me.
          Was this the gift? Is this the trade, God? You take my wife and now I can take life?
          But bring it back, I thought.
          I turned to Julie. She was as motionless as she had been when the car made its final turn and landed under these pines. I felt the remaining adrenaline running through my veins. Was it enough for two birds and a human? Enough? What was I talking about? Did I think I could bring the dead back to life?
          I could feel the adrenaline swooshing around in my head like a half-full cup of water. You took life and now it’s in you, waiting to be released. But that didn’t make any sense, did it?
          “What if I touched you?” I said to Julie. “Would you spring to life? Would you come back to me?” I raised my hand and went for her face. It was cold on my fingertips.
          Nothing.
          And then something. It started with a tingle and then a feeling of fire rushing through my arm.
          The liquid was leaving me and going into Julie. Then, another vision:
          I was swimming under water. There was more of me, all around me, thousands of me. All swimming, all heading to one thing. I was in the lead though. I would make it. I would be the first to get there.
          I saw it. It was round, forty times larger than I was.
          An egg.
          I latched onto it, and dug in. I was inside of it now.
          And now I was growing.
          “I want to save it for the cabin, Okay?” Julie had said in the car.
          “Ok,” I shrugged.
          It’s a surprise.

*****


I pulled my hand back and shot back in my seat. Julie was still gone. Her eyes met mine with a cold stare.
My heart had returned to normal. I had just seen my son. My dear God. My son was alive. I put my hand on her belly. It was warm. The only part of her that was warm.
          “That was your surprise. Oh, baby, there wasn’t enough in me to bring you back, too. I tried, I really tried.”
          I had to get out of here or I would lose both of them.
          “I’m going to save our son, baby, I promise.”
          I put my hands under my thighs again. I breathed deep, slow breaths. I felt weak but I thought I could do it. I waited for a moment. More deep breaths. God, it was so hard. What are you going to do? Tear off your legs. You would bleed to death. Your boy, you have to save him.
          Now, pull!
          I heard the roar of an engine. Huh? I stopped and listened. There it was again. Yes, it was an engine. Anthony. It had to have been Anthony. I had forgotten. The bird had seen him before flying over my car and dying.
          I looked out into the valley.
          He was there. He was standing halfway up the embankment screaming at the top of his lungs. He was dressed in a thick blue jacket and an orange toboggan. Oh, thank you God. “We’re out of here, baby,” I said to Julie.
          I called out to Anthony.
          "Hey, you’re ok," he said, surprised, relieved. "Well, what are you still doing in the car?"
          “My legs, I can’t move them. They’re pinned under the dash. And Julie." I said. Fresh tears blurred my vision, but I saw him move forward.
          "Is she ok?" he said.
          I remembered the deer and the birds. Would he die too, if he got close to me? My chest tightened and I was breathing fast and heavy.
          "She didn’t make it," I said.
          "Oh, dear," he gasped.
          "Don’t come near me." But how would I explain? He would think I was crazy, but I couldn’t let him die.
          "What’s wrong, Sam?" he said, stopping.
          "It’s me. I think you'll die if you come near me."
          "What do you mean?"
          "Something is happening."
          "Sam, what are you talking about?"
          "When something gets near me it dies." You didn’t have enough for Julie, only the baby.
          "Oh, Sam.” Anthony moved closer to the car.
          "Stop! If you come near me, you will die just like the rest of them." And you could use him. You could bring her back.
          "It’s ok, I’m going to help you," Anthony said.
          "Stay right there, please." No, come closer, my mind said.
          "It’s not your fault Sam, it’s nobody’s fault. The roads were icy.”
          "If you take another step you’re going to drop to the ground.” But you’ll have Julie back, wont you? Let him come.
          “I’ve been worried. I knew the snow was too much. I’ve been waiting for you guys."
          “Anthony, just stay right there.” No Anthony, come closer. “Shut up!” I screamed.
          He jumped back when I shouted. "Sam, you need to listen to me, I'm going to help you.”
          "Look at the deer and the birds for Christ’s sake. They came near me and dropped."
          Anthony froze, and examined the animals from where he stood. "What happened to them?"
          "They got close to me and died.”
          "Sam, you’re not well. You’ve been in the car all day, and you just got in a wreck. Julie's in there with you, and I'm sorry. Sam, you must have hit the deer on the way down."
          "Anthony, please, go, get help, don’t come near me." I want Julie back. I can’t live this life without her. Now come closer!
          Anthony moved forward, he was several feet from the deer. “Sam, just calm down I’m going to help you get out of there.”
          My eyes filled again. I pleaded, “Please, don’t move. I don’t want to do this. I can’t kill someone else.” But if you do, you will have Julie back. You will have the baby and Julie. You will be a family.
          Anthony stopped. “Oh, Sam, it’s going to be ok,” he said.
          “Your right.” I said, closing my eyes. What was I about to do? I thought. A trade. “Please come and help me get out of this car. I’m sorry; I’m just not feeling right,” I heard myself say.
          Anthony smiled and took another step.
          The look on his face as he fell was like a statue carved from wood, without emotion or expression, there was nothing. There wasn’t time to react. He just fell.
          The adrenaline came and I welcomed it.
          And I reached for Julie.

*****

It took all of what Anthony had given me to bring her back. We held on to each for a while. I didn’t explain to her that she had died and had returned. I only told her that she had been unconscious from the wreck. I didn’t tell her I knew about the baby. I let her keep that surprise. After some time, we decided that she had to go for help.
          She couldn’t open her door so she crawled from the window. When she spotted Anthony in the snow, I told her he had grabbed his chest and fallen. She looked puzzled but went for the four-wheeler. I watched her disappear down the snowy road.
          An hour later, she returned with a few workers from the lodge. Fire truck and ambulance soon followed.
          I kept to the heart attack story when they asked about Anthony.
          I said I wasn’t sure about the deer and the birds.
          I wondered why the paramedics, the firefighters, and the workers hadn’t dropped when they neared the car, why only the animals and Anthony. Maybe once I revived Julie, my murderous bubble evaporated. But why? Was it something to do with us? Was it the deer? Maybe… And maybe that wasn’t it –and maybe I would never know what it was.
          After they freed me from the car, the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance. I could not feel my legs. Julie rode with me to the hospital.

*****

Later, when the doctors told me that I might never walk again, I shrugged. I didn’t care about my legs. Julie was with me, holding my hand when I heard the news. I couldn’t take my eyes from her.
          We went to the cabin when I graduated from a wheelchair to crutches, to tell Anthony Hedrick’s son, Frank, that we were going to name our boy after his father. Frank was the owner now, had taken over when his father passed.
          He cried when we told him.
          He bent down behind the counter and pulled up a bottle of Ridge Mountain Apple. He handed it to us and said that he had saved it from that day.
          “Dad would have wanted you to have it. He had left this bottle on the counter when he jumped on his four-wheeler to go looking for you. He was waiting for you, his ‘little married couple’. He always called you his ‘little married couple’.”
          We took he bottle and told him that we would never drink it.

*****

After two years of therapy, I eventually walked again, and in the fall four years after the accident, I received a call from my dad. My mother, who had been fighting with cancer, was dying. “You had better get down here, son.”
          I hung up and knew that I could not be with her as she passed, could not be near her. I wasn’t sure if my death aurora would make an appearance.
          I went to the funeral and stood by my dad to comfort him. Julie was next to me, our son in her arms -and in his arms, Jax, a Labrador pup he had grown to love. He had refused to leave the dog at home, threatening us with a tantrum.

*****

Some time after the funeral, I was in the kitchen of our house, preparing dinner, when I heard my son screaming outside.
          Julie and I rushed out to the front yard to see Anthony, running from the road. In his arms was Jax, his tongue hanging from his mouth, blood dripping from it. His backside, dark and wet and his once blonde fur now as black as his lifeless eyes.
          “Daddy,” he yelled, gasping for air, tears welling up in his eyes. “Jax got hit.”
          “Oh, baby,” Julie said, cupping her hand over her mouth.
          She started for him. I grabbed her arm. “Wait,” I said. Julie’s death rushed into my mind. The deer, and the birds, Anthony.
          “What is it?” she said.
          Little Anthony was running beneath the oak tree in our yard, now. That was when the first bird fell.

The End