Flightsuit (9 page)

It turned out that the short distance the map implied was misleading.  The map didn't account for briars or twisting rhododendron branches. 

In the pitch blackness, there was no way to know briar branches were in front of him, until they caught on his clothes or face. These were big thorny berry branches and they went through his pants and shirt right into skin.  He couldn't tell if they were raspberry or blackberry.  From past experience though, he knew there'd be smears of color on his clothes tomorrow that would tell the tale.  When he'd gone through patches of them on prior, daylight hikes, he came home to find hundreds of small scratches where unnoticed briars had dragged over skin without tearing his clothes.  The scratches burned in the shower for days afterward.

With no way to avoid them, Leo ploughed through, shielding himself as much as possible by the sleeved left arm and keeping his eyes squinted.  Even though he couldn't see anything but tree and branch silhouettes outlined against the s
ilvery night sky, he didn't want to completely close his eyes.  That felt too vulnerable.  Looking at the map lights every minute or so, dim as they were at least gave him some reassurance. 

The briars thinned out but only to make way for rhododendron branches.  Leo hated rhododendron branches.  They were nearly impenetrable with many twisting branches stemming from each plant base.  The branches ranged from over an inch to small twigs
.  Each twisted and crossed over each other, weaving a continuous net.  In the daylight, Leo avoided them wherever possible as they forced him to wind his way through, spending more time moving sideways than forward.  Adults all loved them and thought the flowers were beautiful, but they weren't typically crawling through them.

Briar patches were usually over a small area, passable in a couple
minutes' walk.  Rhododendron patches sometimes covered an entire hillside.  The short distance indicated on his map, could take 15-20 minutes even in daylight.  Leo thought about going back several times, but realized that he'd just be crawling back through the rhododendron branches. 

It was always
easier traveling atop ridgelines.  The rhododendrons stopped short of the top, and larger trees there starved undergrowth, making an easy walk.  If he could find the other piece of, whatever the sleeve was, indicated by the orange pinpoint, he could make his way upslope and get home faster. 

The ridges also felt safer
.  Anything would have to come uphill, giving him more opportunity to hear, or possibly see, it further off. 

Winding through the branches was more challenging than usual – the sleeve's top edge
kept catching on branches.  Leo soon learned to avoid this.  It sent sharp pain through the spike.  He wiped sweat and grime from his forehead. 
Why am I sweating so much?

He started to stand up, trying to see further around the hill's slope.  As he did, blood drained from his head and he blacked out.

Ethan stretched in the sunlight streaming through a dusty window
, and felt its warmth on his shoulder.  He swung his feet to the floor and let his back soak in the sunlight.  He was in no hurry.  It felt like a warm blanket. 

After a few minutes he reluctantly stood up
, and walked to the bathroom.  The sunlight hadn't reached this far into the house, but he'd put a round stick-on light on the wall just above the electric switch.  He bumped the back of his hand against it, and the small battery-powered bulb dimly lit the bathroom.  There was a stiff washcloth hanging over the cold water valve.  He crunched it together several times to soften it, then circled it around the mirror's face clearing some of the dust.  Looking at his reflection, he realized checking the mirror had become a pointless habit. 
Always the same, and no one to see me anyway
.  He wasn't sure why he bothered checking the mirror at this point, but he never remembered that it was pointless until he'd wiped a circle clear and made his routine morning inspection. 
Old habits
.

He bumped off the stick-on light and walked outside onto the porch.  "Hey old man," he said to the golden retriever lying on the porch's wooden planks.  The dog's tail slapped the floor twice in greeting
, and he smiled up at Ethan, hoping for a petting.  "Just a minute boy," he said, walking over to the side of the porch.  He relieved himself through the rails onto the grass below.

He kneeled down and scrubbed his hands through the dog's fur.  "How's Oscar this morning?  Good?  Yeah,
me too buddy."  He rubbed on the dog for a while, enjoying the soft fur's feel.  "What've you been up to boy?  You look tired."  He looked to the other side of the porch and frowned at the empty feeder. 
Usually lasts him at least a couple weeks
.  A few times, bears or raccoons had cleaned out the entire feeder in a single night, but he didn't' think that was the case this time.  Raccoons always left the feeder in pieces, and it stood where he'd left it. 
Oscar must have just eaten it all
.

"Sorry boy," Ethan told the dog.  "I'll get you some more."  Oscar looked hopeful.

Ethan walked back inside, leaving the door open.  The phone wasn't on the counter where he usually left it. 
Oh oh
. He normally kept a routine and was frustrated with himself for slipping.  Without the routine, things were a lot harder to manage.  It wasn't on the other side of the sink.  He went over to the bed.  It wasn't on the nightstand.  He finally found it by patting down the rumpled blanket. 
Must have fallen out of my hand as I fell asleep
. The battery was dead.  He almost never used the phone, but this far from cell towers it discharged quickly as it tried to lock in a signal.  He couldn't actually use the phone without walking a half-mile closer to the river.  It was more useful as a timepiece.  He took it to the counter and connected the charging cord. 

The charger was connected to solar panels he'd put on the roof with a dozen twelve volt batteries storing accumulated power.  The battery gauge indicated they were fully charged.  

He turned on a battery-powered radio.  It was an expensive one that received stations from all over the world.  It was Ethan's main connection to the world outside his cabin.  He went into town so rarely that even though he'd lived his entire life within a five-minute drive of Bumpas Cove, no one knew him.  When he needed to get into town, he drove the four-wheeled terrain cycle from the cabin through a trail down to the crumbling asphalt road and on to the riverside.  He paid a heavy-drinking neighbor $15 a month, by automatic deposit, to let him park his truck in the back of his house.  He only used the truck to get into Erwin, or the Co-Op in Jonesborough where he bought supplies.  He'd watched the little towns change from year to year and saw something new or changed with every trip.  The four wheeler was being repaired by a small engine shop in Erwin. 
I need to get down there and pick it up before they sell it
, he worried.  He wasn't sure how long it had been there. 
Might've missed a call from them. I'm sure it's fixed by now
.  He'd have to walk to the truck today, and pick up the cycle. 

He leaned against the counter, and listened
to the radio.  After a few minutes, he heard what he was listening for and turned it off.  He stood considering at the window, then reached over for the calendar hanging on a nail beside the sink.  He flipped to the next month and counted back. 
Three weeks
, he thought, twisting his mouth. 
No wonder
.

He went outside, stepped off the porch
, and headed for a small wooden shed.  The shed, like the house, was desperate for paint with only flakes covering patches of gray planks.  He looked back at the house considering how big a job it would be to paint the house and shed. 
Dread that.  It's been so long since it was painted, its going to soak up several coats
.  The house was small with two bedrooms, the living room, and kitchen combination he slept in, and a bathroom.  The walls were old weather-toughened oak planks that would last even without paint.  The gray house stood out like a white ghost in the surrounding green forest.  Grass around the house was knee-high with briars and bushes encroaching.  He tried to mow every couple weeks, otherwise the length was too much for him to tackle with the human-powered rolling clipper blade. 
Never be able to catch back up on that again this summer
, he thought.  He'd either have to use the gas trimmer or just let it go until spring.  At this point, he would probably just let it go. 

He unlatched the shed door and stepped inside.  The shed had a light that he'd connected to the AC/DC converter inside with an orange extension cord.  It ran out of a hole he'd drilled
in the wall beside the kitchen window.  The light coming through cracks between the shed's plank walls was enough to see the metal garbage can he used for dog food.  He pulled out an unopened bag and carried it onto the porch where Oscar waited.  He stood and excitedly wagged his tail as he watched Ethan.

Oscar was munching happily on the dog food
, while Ethan stood on the porch and folded the empty bag.

That was when he saw
a boy stumble out of the woods.

When Leo woke, he didn't recognize his surroundings.  He was in a bed with a column of morning light streaming across the bed.  It was not a familiar bed, nor was the room.  He lay still and turned his head only slightly, trying to figure out where he was.

A wooden
, straight-backed chair was near the bed.  He saw a small, white nightstand with an oil lamp.  On the nightstand sat a photograph of a man and woman with a frail, old man lying on a hospital bed between them.  All three smiled for the picture, although only the old man looked really happy.  A wooden table further off was scattered with books and paper.  There were more photograph frames behind the scatter.  Beyond the table, there was a small kitchen with an out-of-place bright-orange cooler on the counter. 

Leo struggled his elbow underneath to raise up.  The nightstand was dusty.  So was the frame.  Dust motes danced in the light from the window behind him onto the floor.

A man wearing worn jeans and an old, once-white, t-shirt came in the door and looked at him. 

Awake
, thought Ethan.
Thank you Lord
. 

He asked Leo,
"Are you ok?"  Leo made to sit up but Ethan motioned him to lie still.  "You've been in shock.  You'll need to move slowly."

"Where am I?" asked Leo.

Ethan looked around the room and said, "My house.  You're safe, I found you in the woods.  Can I get you some water?"  Leo nodded.  Ethan went to the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and pulled out a small metal cup which he filled from the orange cooler. 

Leo watched the man as he brought the little cup back, trying to decide if he
could be dangerous. 

The beam of sunshine from the dusty window lit millions of floating dust motes.  It was difficult to see the man until he stepped directly into the light.  When he did, the motes swirled around him, giving him a glowing outline in the dim room.  He sat in the chair beside the bed holding the cup out to Leo.  Leo watched the motes swirl around his moving hand
, and circle behind his head like a halo.

As the man leaned into the light, Leo decided he might be close to his mother's age, although he was never sure how old an adult
might be.  He had more gray hair than his mother, and not too many wrinkles around his eyes.  The t-shirt he was wearing had some dirt on it where he'd been carrying something that got on him.  He seemed of average height for a man, Leo guessed.   He smiled at Leo to let him know he wasn't going to hurt him.  It was a quick smile that settled back into his face like he'd tried it on and it didn't fit, but his eyes held onto it a little longer. 

Leo drank the water, which was cold and good. 

He looked at Ethan.  Ethan reached over to take the empty cup.  "Would you like some more?"

Leo nodded
.  Ethan gently took the cup from him, and walked back to the cooler.  Leo looked at the frame on the nightstand, and decided the man was the one in the photo.  As the man walked, his boots rapped on the cabin's dusty wood floor. 

Leo scanned the room again while the water trickled into the cup.  Behind the photograph, there were small wooden figures.  Carved statues with twisting shapes.  He squinted to sharpen focus in the dim light. 
What are those things?
  He'd assumed at first that the left one was a bear.  It was heavy, and looked like it was walking on three legs with one leg lifted in mid-step, but as he stared he couldn't catch it at the right angle to confirm his guess.  The one on the right was almost hidden from view by the photograph frame.  It looked like it might be an octopus with one tentacle reaching up over its head.  Usually people carved ducks or turtles, he'd never seen any carved creatures like these. 

He heard the trickle stop
, and glanced quickly up at Ethan.  The strange little shapes had unnerved him.  He didn't know why.  They didn't seem right.  They weren't any shape he expected to see, and his nerves were frayed already.  He looked up at the man, tensed and expecting something bad to happen.

But the man looked at him with sad and hopeful eyes and said, "My name is Ethan".

Leo felt his shoulders release tension, and he smiled back, "I'm Leonard Christiansen," he said.  "I go by 'Leo'".  He took the water from Ethan, and drank it down.

"Do you live down on the river road?" asked Ethan. 

Leo nodded, "We live in the yellow house beside the big garden."  His mother planted a few rows of corn and tomatoes in the back rows of the garden that belonged to the family next door. 

Ethan thought for a moment.  "I know which
one you mean."  Ethan hesitated.  "What happened to you?"

"I like to look for stuff in the old cabins," Leo said, a little concerned that he might get in trouble for trespassing.  Leo asked, "
Do you live here?"

"For years," Ethan replied, "and years".  He smiled at Leo.

Looking at the glass-metal sleeve, Ethan finally asked, "What's on your arm Leo?"

Leo locked eyes with Ethan, feeling his pulse pick up.  His voice broke as he replied.  "I don't know." 

"I found it in the stream.  As soon as I put my arm inside it, it stuck a hook in my arm, and now I can't get it off," his voice rose with panic as he finished. 

Ethan made a wincing face, "I thought it might be some kind of prosthetic arm, that maybe it was a replacement for a missing arm.  I was afraid to try taking it off."

Leo sat up and tilted his shoulder so Ethan could see the spike.

Oh God
, thought Ethan.  "That's sticking in your arm?"

Leo nodded. 

"And you can't get it back off?" 

A quick headshake.  No.

Leo's eyes watered, and his lip tightened.  It wasn't a good feeling when something happened to you that scared an adult.

"It's alright Leo," assured Ethan.  "We'll get you to a doctor and they'll be able to get it off.  Can you tell me what happened after you put it on, how'd you end up here?"

Leo spent the next ten minutes telling Ethan about his frequent explorations of the deserted homes in the little mining village, and his discovery of the sleeve.  He showed Ethan the map on the sleeve's forearm, and explained that he was looking for the second orange marker when he passed out. 

As Leo showed Ethan the map
, he noticed a yellow marker alongside his orange one at the map's center.  "I guess this one is you," Leo told him, "Since you're not red, I guess you're not planning to eat me."   Ethan's brows knitted along with a little smile, and Leo explained the map's representation of the bear.

"That's amazing," laughed Ethan.  "You have no idea where it's getting power?"

Leo shook his head, "Nope.  That's why I came after the second marker before heading for home.  I figured that the battery might die before I could find it."

"We'd better get you home though Leo.  It's possible that when the battery does die, that spike might release its hold on you, but I'd rather you were with a doctor when that happens."

Leo swallowed, thinking about the spike moving.

"Let me get you something to keep your sugar up.  How about some crackers and peanut butter?"  Ethan
returned from the cabinet and sat in the wooden chair near Leo with a plate on his lap, stacking little peanut butter cracker sandwiches on the plate for Leo.  The crackers were a little stale and the peanut butter was different from the kind his mother bought, but as Leo chewed, it tasted better. 

After several crackers, Leo started to feel quite a bit better.  Ethan gave him some more water in the tin cup to wash it down.  Leo raised his left arm to take the cup without thinking and the sleeve knocked it out of Ethan's hand, wetting the dusty floor.

"That's ok.  No problem," Ethan told him, and refilled the cup.