Tranquil Fury (7 page)

After the first sunset, Eric, Logan, and John finally wandered back over to the camp, where Lauren was preparing a meal for them. John felt sure she would not need a fire to cook the meal, as she was so angry, she could make a pot boil, just by looking at it. After the meal, she walked over to Ryan to give him the medicine as Mirtza had instructed.
Why do I have to be the one to look after the guy who killed my sister?
And that was the breaking point. She went over to the fire, “I want somebody to tell me something, anything, as long as it’s the truth. Do not lie to me. What are we going to do? What happens if Mirtza does not come back? What are we going to do about Ryan? Somebody? Anybody? This is bullshit!”

Eric stood up, and tried to talk to Lauren. But she was like a pressure cooker left over an open flame for too long, something had to give. Before the shouting would start again, and she would say something she could not take back, Lauren dashed off into the dead forest. Logan went to go after her, but Eric stopped him, “She’ll be okay, she just needs to let off some steam. She’ll be safe, as we haven’t seen anything or anybody out here. Logan, if you go after her, you’ll become the target of her frustration.” Then Eric headed out to watch the road, “I will be back in a few hours. I don’t think anybody will travel that road in the middle of the night.”

Logan looked to John, but he just shrugged his shoulders. So Logan added some firewood to the campfire, so Lauren would be able to find her way back, and then sat down.

Lauren was deep into the forest when she came across a wide path, which she followed to its end. The tarp was dark, but stretched so thin, some light did penetrate. When she reached the far end, she stopped and fell to her knees, sobbing.
What the hell is happening? How do you get into an accident, and wake up in another world. Here, nothing makes sense. Maybe we are all dead, caught in a shared delusion. Maybe it’s just a dream.
She pinched her arm, but did not sit up in a warm bed. She thought of her parents,
how are they going to handle losing two more of their children, it will rip them apart! The funeral with closed caskets, because there are no bodies, or will they go through seven years of hell waiting for us to be declared legally dead. Maybe after that long, they will forget, and never have a funeral for us. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this…
She sobbed for hours, torturing herself with thoughts of despair, dark depression arriving like the night, and after a while, she could cry no more. She heard the familiar sound of rain, “God, I would love a hot bath right now. Even a shower!”  

Lauren loved her huge backyard, being outdoors, around nature, it always made her feel happy.
But here they kill trees, and slowly.
She grabbed a dead looking tree about five feet tall, pulled it from the ground, roots and all. Then broke the small branches off the crown, and started smashing the tarp with it, and it felt good to hurt something. She vented all of her frustration into the tarp, wailed on it as if it was a personal assault to her senses. Then Lauren noticed a small rip, and beat the tarp as if it was a mortal enemy. The rip grew until the forces on the tarp made it spread open, from the ground to the highest tree, it separated, and to her, it felt like she had won a victory. Gentle rain fell on Lauren, and it felt like hope. She stood there in the darkening forest for over an hour, letting the rain wash away the tears, the road dust, the despair. As the night became darker, the temperature began to drop, so Lauren wandered back into a section of the forest that the tarp still covered. She found a huge tree with a large exposed cavity, and crawled into it, with her dead tree staff.

Deep sleep came quickly. And with it, dreams. She was sitting on a stump, in the middle of a clearing, a cloudless blue sky above. The forest that surrounded her was vibrant with colors, bright flowers, tree leaves that seemed to glow. Everything was so intense, the smell, the air, the feeling of being alive. As Lauren sat there, large white wispy butterflies surrounded her. Inside the dream, she dreamt the story that her mother had told her, saw her mother pointing in the dream, “Lauren, look at the butterfly.” Lauren saw her young self reply, “Mommy, butter can’t fly.”

As Lauren watched, more and more butterflies landed on branches, flowers, grass, and the stumps in front of her. Quite often, one would fly over to another, rub their antennas together, then go and visit another. She slowly turned around on the stump, and saw that they outnumbered her, as there were hundreds. Lauren smiled as she watched the wispy insects form into groups, break apart, and then make new groups. It was magical. Then slowly, they started to fly away, all but twelve, which made her sad. Throughout the dream, the butterflies had all been white. As she looked at the remaining twelve, they started to change color. But not solid colors, each one displayed dozens of changing hues and shades. Then one came over, wrapped itself around Lauren, and then slowly the other ten embraced her, the last one being reluctant, but eventually joined in the embrace.  

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All night long Logan tossed and turned. Sure, he had seen Lauren upset before, but it was usually because he had caused it. Yesterday and last night was different. He had only seen his sister this upset once before, when she had first blamed Ryan for Samantha’s death. Those were brutal weeks. Considering the circumstances, most of their family and friends went through the five stages of grief relatively quick, except for Lauren. The funeral put an end to any arguments of denial she may have harbored, but it opened up to a sea of anger. Over the last two years, that storm had lost most of its energy, but small parts of it still remained deep inside of her. Say the wrong thing, those icy gale force winds that fueled her anger would renew themselves in seconds, which Logan had learned the hard way a year ago. While he could still pull Lauren’s strings, he now knew better than to use their dead sister’s name in jest. While counselling had helped her to get in and out of the different grief stages, Lauren had always rejected the notion of acceptance. Instead, she adopted a simple philosophy, as long as she never forgot about Samantha, then her sister would always be with her.

When Logan finally sat up, it was barely light, and he was hoping to see Lauren somewhere in their little camp. But when he realized she had not returned, he headed into the forest. He thought about calling her name, but was afraid that she might go into hiding, ashamed at what had happened the day before. Logan followed the game trail until he came to the wider path, but instead of turning left as Lauren had, he turned right. With the dark tarp overhead restricting the light, the dried branches and leaves crackling under his boots, visions of zombies, vampires, and aliens soon formed in his mind. Every ten minutes, he would stop and listen as he followed the winding path through the dead forest, but he heard no sounds from his sister. He had been walking for about an hour, growing more worried about Lauren, when he thought about turning around to check the other end of the forest. Then a bend in the path ahead showed a large clearing with several large bench-sized stones, and Logan proceeded with caution, until he could see the entire space. A dozen large stones, each about twelve feet long formed a circle. In the center, also lying flat on the ground were two large stones of similar size, about two feet apart. Even though the meeting place was in the dead creepy forest, it seemed to have a peaceful or serene quality to it.

Logan first walked around the perimeter of the circle, seeing if there were any clues as to its purpose. He wandered into the inner circle of the stones, overcome with fatigue, hunger, and worry. Confused and exhausted, he sat down on one of the middle stones to collect his thoughts.
Lauren presents a strong front on the outside, but I know she is still fragile on the inside. Now we’re here, ripped from our effing world, and plopped down in this god damn strange land. At home, while I may have been a pain in her butt, it was normal and expected. But at least I could protect her. If she needed time to be alone, I could distract Mom and Dad to provide Lauren with the personal time that she required. What can I do to help her here?

 
Images of Lauren flooded his memory, good and bad. Birthday parties, holidays, summer vacations and more. How he could make her so mad, she would threaten to call their parents. But she would always give him to the count of ten. Logan got so good at pushing her buttons, that he claimed the credit for teaching Lauren fractions. When he would not back off, she would start counting the final two numbers in quarter fractions; 8, 8 1/4, 8 1/2, 8 3/4 and so on, and he would usually wait until 9 3/4 before he would leave her alone. Logan imagined what this strange place would look like if the forest was alive, bursting with colors and fresh fragrances.
Lauren would love it. So now broken Lauren is in a broken world, on a ledge facing the wrong way. What can I do to help her? How do I protect her?
Without realizing it, the fatigue overtook Logan, and he lay upon the stone slab, quickly falling asleep.

Images of Lauren quickly filled his dreams, but not
Strong Lauren
. Instead, he dreamt of
Hurt Lauren
. Listening to her cry outside of her bedroom door, watching as she wandered in circles in their backyard, holding her hand at the funeral as she cried. The images invaded his sleep, the desire to see her smile in his dreams, battled with the images of Lauren crying. Then he rolled off the stone slab, and landed flat on his back between the two stone benches. Winded, with his head spinning, he reached out to the two stone benches, and as his forearms connected with the cold surface, his body convulsed, an intense burning sensation travelled through his arms, across his body. His vision filled with a white light, and then everything went black.

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Lauren woke with a smile, felt happy,
butterfly hugs
. She blinked her eyes open, as there was at least one sun high enough in the sky to wake her, stepped out of her tree, and was surprised to see a burst of color. The plants that had been dead the night before were now alive, the most unusual flowers were blooming, and tree leaves were green. She saw berries on the bushes, bugs buzzing around, and even heard birds, though she could never spot them.

Lauren wandered over to a fallen tree, sat down, pulled a few berries off a nearby bush, and ate them. In her hand was the small dead tree from the night before, which she examined closely. It was actually three trees, which had grown in such a way, that they had wound around each other. It was very odd looking, especially since it still had a root cluster on the bottom. However, to Lauren it didn’t matter, as she decided she liked it. She felt as if she was still in a dream, and sat for a long time, inhaling the intoxicating air, and visually drinking in the vibrant colors. She went over to a large broad-leafed plant, plucked one leaf from it, and folded it into a pouch shape. Then she started gathering flowers, berries, pinecones, grasses, and some small fruits. Before she would pick one, she would sit for a few minutes in front of it, caress the plant, inspect it, and in some cases, talk to it.

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Logan had no idea what time it was when he finally woke up. He looked up to the tarp that still stretched overhead, saw the two stone benches at his sides, and it was then that he remembered falling off, onto his back. As he sat upright, an intense burning sensation in his arms slammed into his brain, making him wince in pain. He examined his forearms, and found a large tattoo of a red feather on the right arm, and a similar blue feather tattoo on his left. When he rubbed one of the tattoos against the flow of the feathers, the little segments would separate, and when he rubbed the feather upright, the segments would marry back together. As he sat looking at the strange sight on his skin, they slowly began to fade, and then disappeared completely, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.

After a short period, Logan raised himself from between the two stone benches, making sure not to touch either one, and stumbled back down the path. A number of times as he was looking for the game trail back to the camp, he examined his arms,
must have dreamed it
. Eventually he found his way, stumbling into the camp around lunchtime.

Eric had prepared a simple meal of buns and fruits, “Where have you been?”

 “I was looking for Lauren. Where is John?”

Eric replied, “He is watching the road. Did you find her?”

 “No.” Logan went over to his blankets, pulled them over his head, and fell into a deep sleep.

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It was late into the night when Lauren began to think about Ryan and Zack. She reached for her entwined staff and leaf pouch, pulling out one of the collected berries. When she crushed it on the head of her staff, the juices flowed down, and a soft blue light came forth. She then headed in the direction of the boys’ camp, where she found John, Logan, and Eric sound asleep. She knelt beside Ryan and felt his forehead,
fever,
pulled a berry from her pouch, squeezing it hard so that the drops of liquid fell onto his tongue. Lauren pulled back Ryan’s clothing, was shocked by all of the scars she saw, as when John was stitching him up, she did not get a good look, as there was too much blood and confusion. She knew about the extensive surgeries, but she could not believe all of the scars, as every part of his body had one.
Maybe that is justice enough
. John had cut most of the fabric to expose the injuries on his legs, so that he could stitch up the wounds, and while he had done a good job, an infection had set in. Ryan had large cuts on his legs from the metal debris, the infection was causing pressure to build, as the areas around the stitches were extremely red, and she could see signs of blood poisoning setting in. If he was lucky, he had a few days left to live. Lauren squeezed the cuts on the legs, sending white pus erupting like some sort of human volcano, continued to squeeze, until the wounds released fresh blood cascading like lava. Ryan moaned in pain, passed out.
Good, it will be better this way
. As a watery red liquid began to seep from the tended wounds, she grabbed some pine cones from her leaf pouch, breaking them apart and removing their seeds. Then reached for the small pot from the chest, added some water, and put it on the smoldering embers of the fire. To this, she also added flowers, berries, leaves, tree bark, and once the brew had simmered, Lauren tasted it. She looked back at Ryan,
so much damage
, and then one by one, she cleaned each infected wound. John’s stitches held, and slowly you could see the skin color return to the injured areas. Lauren retrieved some dressings from Mirtza’s medicine bag, then pulled the pot off from the embers, and let it cool. She examined Ryan for any other wounds, and when she rolled him onto his side, he opened his eyes.