The Fall of Chance (34 page)

The Wizard was an insufferable patient. He complained about the food, he complained about the temperature and he quizzed Unt constantly on what he was doing. Whenever Unt told him, he would say it was the wrong thing or that Unt was doing it wrong. If he couldn’t find an obvious fault at the first time of asking he would drill down into the smallest detail until he could find something to pick on.

Justifying his work methods tired Unt more than the work itself. He’d wanted to avoid being a Medic and this was why. Unt had no patience for a bad patient, even one he was close to and the Wizard was the worst.

He snapped one evening when he was feeding the Wizard some broth. The Wizard had just told him not to bother and had pushed away the spoon.

“You’ve got to eat,” Unt told him.

“What for? I’m dying.”

“Course you’re not.”

“Yes I am. I’m useless. I need you to come and feed me like a baby.”

“We all get sick,” said Unt.

“But not everyone recovers,” said the Wizard, “And I’m not going to.”

“Why not? I was weaker than you are when you saved me.”

“And I did a better job of looking after you than you’re doing for me. A better job of the camp too. Look at that firewood: there’s barely a log left and what there is is green or has damp in it.”

“Well if you don’t like the way I do things, you’d better get well again. Then you can do stuff how you want.” Unt slammed the bowl down and left the Wizard to the food he couldn’t reach. He would have stormed out but there was nowhere to go so he had to settle for crossing the room and sitting in silence. It wasn’t the grand gesture he might have hoped for but he could feel its effect. The Wizard was sat morosely, brooding over Unt’s words.

*              *              *              *

That night, he awoke and the Wizard wasn’t there. He looked around the cabin desperately and then he heard a noise outside. It was a muffled-sounding tap. A couple of seconds later, it was repeated.

Putting on his coat, he went outside to investigate. There, at the other end of the camp, was the Wizard. He’d gone out with a torch and stuck it in a holder and that light now lit him up.

The Wizard had dressed himself in his old clothes and was busy chopping firewood. Somewhere, from his reserves of strength, a man who’d been unable to lift a spoon that evening was now wielding an axe with both arms.

Unt hurried over. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” The Wizard swung another blow.

“Fate’s sake, stop!” Unt put out a hand toward the axe. The Wizard looked like he would hit him with it.

“You’re the one who said that if I didn’t like things I should do them myself.”

“After you got well, I said.”

“That’s weak talk,” said the Wizard, “I never got sick before I met you.”

“I didn’t make you sick,” said Unt.

“I should never have picked up your worthless carcass.” The Wizard was unlistening. “The first rule of foraging is never pick up what the carrion won’t touch.”

“You’re making yourself worse,” Unt tried.

“Sickness doesn’t get you ‘til you let it,” said the Wizard. “The way to beat it’s by not giving in.”

“You’re going to kill yourself,” said Unt.

“I’ll die if I don’t do something.” The Wizard buried his axe in another bit of wood. It buried so deep that the head stuck in the chopping block.

“Look, maybe you’re right,” said Unt, “but now isn’t the time. You wouldn’t be chopping wood at night when you were healthy so why the hell would you do it now?”

The Wizard struggled to free the axe but he was listening.

“Just come to bed for now,” said Unt. “In the morning, you can decide what you want to do and get yourself back into work.”

The Wizard gave up on the axe and followed Unt back into the cabin.

*              *              *              *

The next morning, the Wizard didn’t go back to work. He didn’t even get up. Whatever reserves had given him the strength to do what he did had expired. He was back to his old self. If anything, it was worse. Unt was torn between relief that he’d stopped him before he could do himself more damage and guilt with the idea that maybe the Wizard had been right. Maybe he should have let him continue. He was, after all, a law unto himself.

Intellectually, he knew his doubts were nonsense. There was no way a man that ill should have stayed out in the night of winter. If Unt hadn’t woken last night he’d have gotten up in the morning and found his body surrounded by firewood. But doubt is often illogical and it had Unt firmly in its grip.

The fire in the cabin raged day and night. Ash was building up in the grate at the bottom of the barrel but Unt was loath to let it go out, even for an hour. The Wizard shivered more and more and Unt feared that he was fading fast.

The heat was so intense that Unt would go and stand outside just to escape it. He’d got beyond the point of needing to explain what he was doing. The Wizard didn’t care. All the energy he could muster went into flinging vocal barbs at Unt. Unt no longer heard them, they were just noise. There was no longer a thinking mind behind them.

He was shocked then when he went in one day and found the Wizard on his feet, shuffling across the room. In his grey underclothes he looked like a ghost.

When he heard Unt enter he looked like a child that had been caught red-handed. At first Unt thought it was because he’d caught him out of bed but when he looked in his hand he saw a book. It was the red volume. Unt looked at the direction the Wizard was facing and saw he was headed toward the fire. He recognised instantly that the old man intended to burn it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sternly.

“None of your business.”

“You’re not going to burn it.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave it for you to pour over my thoughts when I’m dead and gone.”

“I couldn’t care less what you’ve written down,” said Unt.

“Exactly,” said the Wizard. “What interest am I to anyone except someone to be laughed at? You don’t care about me. You’re only looking after yourself.”

“No I’m not,” said Unt. “And even if I were, haven’t you been telling me all along that I should do just that?”

“Since when did you ever listen to a word I’ve said? You just want what’s in this camp.”

“I couldn’t care less about all your junk. If that was all I was after I’d just take it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes you could,” said the Wizard. “And that’s why I’m going to stop you getting this right now!” He brandished the book and took a step toward the fire.

“Wait!” said Unt. “You told me you kept that to preserve the man that you’d been. If you throw it on the fire you’re wiping yourself out of existence.”

“Only the worthless half,” said the Wizard, “The half no-one ever gave a damn about. The useful half - the bit I should have focussed on - is still on the shelf there. You’re welcome to keep it but this book here must die before I do.”

“No!” shouted Unt and went to grab the Wizard’s arm. Too late, the Wizard got his throw off and the book landed on top of the fire.

The barrel was so full of ashes that the book landed near the top. The fire had died down and if he was quick, Unt could save it before it caught light.

He went to snatch it out of the fire but the Wizard grabbed him with startling speed. “Let go!” he snapped but the Wizard snarled and fought at him with miraculous strength.

“If you do this now you can’t undo it,” grunted Unt as they wrestled.

“That’s my choice to make. If you were ever my friend, you’ll let me do it.”

“Being your friend’s the only reason I won’t,” said Unt.

With arms pushing each other up and wide, the two men cartwheeled across the cabin in a strange kind of dance. Unt couldn’t believe the Wizard’s force. Every time he thought he was gone, he found some more energy but this final surge was dying at last.

Unt guided the struggle over to the bed and let the Wizard drop. The old man’s fight sank into the piles of fur. He started to weep. Unt looked round at a cracking noise from the fire. He was too late: the fire had taken hold of the book now.

Unt stood over the pathetic creature, the fury welling up inside him. He could crush him like an egg right now. He could pick up that lantern beside the bed and smash his brains in. Nobody would ever know and the old man would be out of his misery instead of stuck in this pitiful, drawn-out decline. At that moment, Unt hated him.

The moment passed. The temptation went away but the possibility of it arising again went unresolved. Unt didn’t so much wonder at the rage that had put him there, he wondered what had staid his hand.

He would have liked to think it was innate decency. He knew it wasn’t fear. He wasn’t outraged either. No, what he felt was like what he’d said about burning the book: once something was done, it couldn’t be undone, so why risk regret? A horrible, callous part of him said the old man would be dead soon so it was just as easy to let things run their course. He couldn’t feel guilty about that.

He pulled the covers over the Wizard and went back outside.

22. Departure

The day after the argument, a strained civility took over the compound. It was an unwelcome guest, one only endured because all knew that it wouldn’t be staying long. Both men recognised that they had reached an impasse, a point from which their relationship could never recover.

If it weren’t for the Wizard’s illness, it would have been Unt who departed. Instead, it would soon be the Wizard who was leaving. The only thing keeping them together was the Wizard’s sickness. Loners though they both were, there was a common bond, true of all people, that made it unthinkable for Unt to turn from a dying man.

It was ironic that the thing keeping them together was also the trigger for their divide. Not that it was the real reason for their fracture, it was just what had brought underlying matters to a head. Unt now realised that they had always been doomed to part and most likely on ill terms too. The Wizard had been too steeped in his own self, too easy to take offence to ever have a lasting friendship. Unt had long grown weary of walking on eggshells. He realised that the only thing that had kept him here was a lack of anywhere else to go.

It was something he would have to address soon though. The Wizard was dying, there was no doubt in either of their minds. Neither spoke of it but death lurked in the shadows made by the ever-roaring fire.

*              *              *              *

Unt was darning clothes outside the door to the cabin. The door was left open a crack so he could hear the Wizard and now he heard him calling.

“Unt, get in here!” he shouted.

Unt got to his feet and went inside to see what he wanted now.

“It’s too warm in here,” said the Wizard.

In his whole illness, the Wizard had never claimed it was too warm. Unt hoped he wasn’t gearing up for one of his old fights. “I can’t just make the fire go out, can I?” he answered wearily.

The Wizard’s smile was oddly gentle. “I know that, son. Just let it die.”

“How can it be too warm? You’ve wanted that fire raging all month,” said Unt.

The Wizard smiled a second time. That made some kind of record. “I know,” he said, “but I’m really feeling all right just now.”

Unt put his hand on the Wizard’s forehead. It actually didn’t feel too bad. He went to get the thermometer. He hadn’t known what one was when he was brought here but now he knew it intimately. He put it in the Wizard’s ear and was surprised when it showed close to normal.

“How is it?” asked the Wizard.

“Good,” said Unt.

“Surprised, eh? You’ll learn.”

“I guess I will.”

The Wizard shifted himself so he sat high up in bed. “Do me a favour, lad. Go out to the meat locker and get out two of the best venison steaks.”

“Steaks? Are you up to that?”

“I know, I haven’t been up to anything for a long while, but right now I’ve got me a hankering for a good bit of grub.”

“All right,” said Unt and did as he was asked. “They’re frozen stiff,” he commented when he came back.

“Thought so,” said the Wizard. “Just lay them on the side there and you can cook ‘em later.”

When that was done, Unt came back and found the Wizard had perched himself on the side of the bed. “What were you doing when I called you in?” he asked Unt.

“Darning.”

“Well, scratch it for this afternoon.”

“Scratch it?”

“Yes, take the day off.” The Wizard had never said to take a day off before. The old man wheezed with laughter. “Yep, you heard me. You’re going to sit there and tell me what’s going on out there. Tell me what you’ve been up to, what projects you’ve got planned and what sort of state you’ve got my yard in.

“I’ve been out of things too long. Stuck in here, day after day, the mind wanders. I’ve no idea what’s going on and what our situation is. So, I want you to humour me, take the day off and fill me in.”

Unt didn’t argue. They just sat and talked for hours. At first he’d been wary of a hidden pitfall in the Wizard’s request. Then, after he’d run through the day-to-day business, he’d struggled for things to say. The Wizard wanted to hear about his future plans but he didn’t have any. His only plan was to let the Wizard die and he’d make his mind up after, but he could hardly tell him that.

He found himself making up projects. He couldn’t think what to start with, but he started to imagine what he would do if he were going to stay and then things came easy. The Wizard listened enthusiastically throughout, cutting in with questions and giving advice. It didn’t seem to matter what the project was; the Wizard had an unusually positive attitude toward everything.

Before he knew it, what started out as a difficult and uncomfortable monologue had stretched into hours of the best conversation the two of them had ever shared. The fire had gone out and Unt finally had a chance to clean it.

“It’s amazing what builds up,” said the Wizard as Unt took repeated shovel-loads of ash outside.

“It’s long overdue,” said Unt.

“That it is,” the Wizard agreed.

When the fire was cleaned, Unt built a new one and set it going. The oven-heat had finally disappeared and the night chill was setting in.

“How are those steaks getting on?” asked the Wizard.

Unt checked. “They’re ready.”

“Good,” said the Wizard. “Get to work doing them justice, then.”

Unt made the steaks with roast potatoes, onions and green beans.

“Excellent,” said the Wizard as he tucked in. “Nice and rare.”

They had beer with the meal and more afterward. The discussion moved from work on to general small-talk. The Wizard’s history was still off-limits but Unt spoke at length about his previous life. The Wizard had to push at first but Unt soon found himself talking warmly about it.

“You’re a good boy,” said the Wizard, shifting backwards on the bed. “Like I’ve always said, they were fools to get rid of you.”

“That’s not what you’ve always said,” laughed Unt.

The Wizard laughed too. “No, I suppose not.” He dragged his legs onto the bed.

“Thank you, Unt. This has been a lovely change,” he said. “But now all this effort’s getting the best of me. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“I’ll do the same shortly,” said Unt but the Wizard was already lying back and on his way to sleep.

Unt cleared away the waste and watched the Wizard as he slept. There was a rare air of contentment about him that made Unt smile.

*              *              *              *

Unt woke again in the night. It had become more a force of habit now than because anything triggered it. The Wizard was in his accustomed place, not moving.

Unt had long since stopped panicking at the lack of signs of breathing. Many times over the last month thinking this was the end only to check and find him breathing imperceptibly. This time, though, he sensed it might be different.

He walked over softly. He was prepared. He knew the previous day’s revival was not a sign of improvement but rather, the opposite.

“Unt,” the Wizard’s voice made him jump. The Wizard made a low gurgle that was a laugh. “You creep so quietly a man might take you for an assassin.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” said Unt.

“Check I hadn’t snuffed it, you mean.”

Unt started to object but the Wizard signalled him to be quiet. “It’s all right, Unt. I’m glad you’re awake. I want to talk to you.”

“Talk in the morning.”

“No, I’ve waited too long already. I have to talk now.” He put up a hand to stop Unt interrupting. “I should have been more open with you, Unt and now I’m running out of time.”

He coughed desperately. “I’m running out of breath too,” he said. “I don’t think I can manage to say what I want to say. When I’m gone, read my diary. That will tell you all you need to know.”

Unt didn’t tell him it was gone.

“I wanted to leave it all behind, you know,” the Wizard went on. “I wanted to forget what they did to me. It worked too, for a time, and I was happy being alone.

“Now though, with the end approaching, I’m glad you came along. I wanted to live on my own but I wouldn’t want to die alone. I’m not asking for a confessor. I’m well at peace with myself. It’s just enough to have someone to talk to.”

Unt made all the right noises. He told him he wasn’t dying yet, that he didn’t have to worry and all the other necessary platitudes. They sounded empty as he said them and he knew they weren’t convincing but they needed to be said, all the same.

His mind kept running to his own situation and he let it go there. The Wizard spoke to Unt like a man would to his son. Unt wondered what his own father might have said to him if he’d had the chance to say it. Mostly, though, he thought about the future, not the past. He looked around this desperate, stinking husk of a home. He saw his own future there and didn’t like it.

One day, he too would be dying in a lonely place, waiting for death to come. The Wizard had said he was glad to have Unt here at this moment but that was just luck. Like as not, when Unt’s time came, it would be just him, alone. His passing would go unmarked. Unt had no delusional desires for monuments erected in his honour but he wanted better than this.

The Wizard had slipped while he wasn’t watching. He was very close to the end. Only a jolt from the old man caught his attention. His lips moved meagrely. Words seemed coiled, ready to come out, but they died there. The Wizard was gone. Whatever he had wanted to say, important or not, he’d never say it now.

*              *              *              *

Unt sat down in front of the body, just looking at it. He didn’t know what to do. It seemed too important to just carry on but he didn’t see what ceremony he could add to the situation. Rigor mortis would set in soon and he didn’t want to be around when that happened. He didn’t want to sleep in a cabin with a corpse, in fact, he didn’t know if he could stop at all.

He decided to take a walk around the compound to clear his head. He stepped outside into the first grey hint of morning. The early birds, rising in advance of the dawn, were already proclaiming a new day. Unt smiled at the too-neat metaphor but it was true, this really was a new beginning.

He shut his eyes and listened to the birdsong. There was a reason why people spoke about it in poetry. Each shrill little tremble lifted the spirits a notch. It rescued him from the reverse side of the die, the sense of abandonment that was drawing in.

Resuming his walk, he looked at all the little buildings as though they were new things. The hoarfrost covered them with a prickled skin of white. It seemed to emphasise their static nature, as though they were stood at attention, awaiting inspection.

This camp was the Wizard’s legacy: a grand achievement and a total waste. It underlined how much one man could accomplish if he put his mind to it and it also said how all that effort meant nothing to anybody else. Unt could assume inheritance over all of this but it was worthless to him. If his future was to live in isolation, it would be a place of his own making, not this.

*              *              *              *

He decided to bury the corpse. Leaving it to rot would be too uncaring and burning would be too grand a gesture. Burying seemed the best thing. It satisfied the ghost of propriety that tugged at Unt even though no-one was there to judge him. He would bury the Wizard among the place he had made. When it fell down, it would fall down around him and he could keep it with him forever.

He was reluctant to start but the body in the cabin spurred him on. He soon found that digging was difficult. The ground was tough as steel and the motivation wasn’t there. It was one of those chores that takes longer because it is a burden and the desire to make the effort is missing.

Several times, he was tempted to give in and take the burning option but he persevered. By the time evening was coming around again, he had scratched a shallow grave deep enough to cover the body in. He wanted to leave it at that but he thought of the stores he’d buried last week. He’d gone further down for them and the Wizard deserved at least as good as that.

He was working by moonlight by the time he’d finished and he wanted to sleep. Unt dragged the corpse out of the cabin and along the ground. He had to hold it close while he dragged it and the head was pressing against his chest. His arms were crossed across the Wizard’s ribs and all he could feel was bones.

He dropped the Wizard into his grave and the body landed awkwardly. The head, arms and legs were all twisted and askew, not like the serene look he’d been hoping for. He could have jumped down and rearranged it but he didn’t want to do that.

He stood over the body in its hole, thinking he should say something. “Goodbye,” he said at last. There wasn’t more to say. He started shovelling the soil back to fill in the grave, beginning with the legs and working up. It seemed wrong to throw soil over his face so he let the stuff piled on the legs spill over until it was slowly covered. Once the corpse was entirely hidden from view, the grave became just another hole and it was easier to work on. Finally, he was finished.