The Last of Her Kind Ch. 04

After all, they were always listening. He dialed the seventeen digit number followed by his own personal code. The phone never rang, and someone immediately picked up the other end.

"Brother Amory," the voice greeted him with the beginning a code.

"Died in his sleep of a job well done." After a second of silence, Cyrus continued. "This is Brother Cyrus. I would like to speak to the Oracle."

"Oh, good," the voice said. "The damn thing hasn't shut up about you."

"Beg pardon?"

"Hold on." The phone clicked, and he waited while he was transferred. A woman's voice spoke to him now.

"Brother Cyrus?"

"Yes. I am calling to speak to the Oracle."

"I'm afraid there's nothing to ask, Cyrus. He's been stuck in a loop for days now."

"A loop?"

"Yeah. Keeps repeating the same thing over and over again. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Yeah, hold on." He pulled the notebook from his pocket. "Go ahead."

"Alright, hold on. I'm reading this to you verbatim." She cleared her throat. "She waits beneath the light of the moon, two paths clearly before her. Though Order seeks to claim its prize, she watches them through human eyes, and the traveler adores her. In plain sight, she shall be found, her legs cradled beneath her. And she shall run, her future set, the traveler to be her guide. To walk in shadows, or the light, that is her true test. A warrior will find his end, and the future suckles at her breast."

"Not his best work, to be honest. Tell him it doesn't even rhyme correctly." Cyrus put the pen away. "By the way, how do you know that this prophecy is for me?"

"He keeps spelling your name with his food. DO you have a status report?"

He sighed. "None. But I'll keep looking."

"Please do. We are dealing with a sensitive situation right now, but we have full confidence in your abilities."

"Thanks." He hung up the phone and groaned. A sensitive situation could only mean an internal issue at the Order. He remembered the time a skinwalker had infiltrated them and all sorts of in-fighting had broken out until they caught him. Shaking his head, he climbed into his truck and pulled out of the lot. Unsurprisingly, a police car pulled up alongside him on his way out.

"Afternoon," Walters said, his eyes boring into Cyrus.

"Just grabbing some supplies, Sheriff." Cyrus jerked his thumb toward the back. "I'll be out of your hair, no worries."

Walters nodded, then pulled into the lot. Cyrus let out a sigh of relief, then frowned when he saw the sheriff pull in behind him. Walters followed him all the way to the edge of town before turning around and going back.

Yet one more problem to deal with. Gripping the wheel tightly, he fumed the whole way back to the cabin. Ready to pick a fight, he stormed in through the front door, dropping his bag of groceries on the nearest table.

"Jeffrey!" He stomped through the cabin, annoyed that his partner was nowhere to be seen. He walked out through the back door and saw Jeffrey sitting on a log, his shirt off and his sword cradled in his lap. "Jeffrey, we need to talk."

"Not before I apologize." The man didn't move a muscle, but his voice was strong. "I'm sorry about the alcohol. And the bar fight. I'm sorry about the last week."

Cyrus deflated, struggling to find his next words. "Well, it's about damn time," he finally sputtered.

"Indeed." Jeffrey stood up and let his blade fold itself up before sheathing it on his belt. "Sir Marcus was like a father to me. He taught me things about being a man, practically raised me as his son. The idea that such a brilliant soul could simply be sucked up into a void and denied the Afterlife..." His hands balled up. "I won't lose myself again, not while we're on this job. I'm sorry, Brother Cyrus."

"I appreciate that." Cyrus let out a breath. "Come inside. Let's have a good meal and talk about strategies."

"Yes, let's." Jeffrey walked inside and helped Cyrus prepare the food. They used an old grill to cook steaks and a veggie-kabob for Cyrus. Cyrus shared with him what he had learned on his trip, including the visit from the sheriff and the prophecy.

"Wow, not his best work," Jeffrey said, reading over the pad.

"Tell me about it."

"This line here, though. The traveler." Jeffrey looked up. "Is that one of us?"

"Shouldn't be, unless you've fallen in love with our prey."

Jeffrey chuckled. "Remind me to tell you a story about a siren later."

"Who would be the traveler?" Cyrus took a bite out of a grilled zucchini. "Someone she hasn't met yet?"

"Or maybe one who travels. A world traveler, a hiker, a guy who likes to walk a lot, takes the bus..." Lines sprouted across Jeffrey's head. He held up a hand for silence, clearly concentrating. Turning his head toward Cyrus, his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"I think I have a lead."

Darren checked the fuses in the fusebox and then returned power to the panel.

"No sparks is the first sign you did it right," Little Mike told him. "No smoke is the second."

"No fire is the third," he added, the corners of his mouth lifting. Little Mike had shown him how to do basic electrical on the jeeps and in the camps, and he could almost smell the stinky cigars Mike would smoke while wrapping wires.

Darren backed away from the panel and turned the light on. The basement of the church was now flooded with light, shedding light on the stacked boxes and tools that had been left behind by his predecessor. Satisfied that there was a current, he turned the light off and went back upstairs. Once he was back in his apartment, he tested a few switches to make sure the lights worked. Grateful that it had been a quick fix, he plugged the toaster back in to the outlet.

"Is it fixed?" Ana asked, squinting suspiciously.

"We'll see." He put in a piece of bread and pushed it down. Within seconds, he could feel the heat of the coils. "Looks like we're in shape." They had woken up to discover that the power had gone out, but a quick trip to the basement had revealed that some fuses had been blown. Luckily, Gary had set aside a box of fuses for both the church and the library, which had saved him a trip to the hardware store.

"Mmm." Ana twisted the knob and rotated away. "Um, good job."

"Yes. Thank you." She was halfway back to her room when he spoke up again. "Say, I was wondering if you would like to do something tonight?"

Her chair stopped, and she rotated again to look at him. "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Dinner?"

"Um, I'm not super keen on that idea."

"How about a walk or something after work? Talk a little?"

Indecision crossed her face, and then she nodded. "Yes, I would like that."

"Okay." He smiled, and watched her go back to her room, the smile sliding off of his face. He let out a breath and put the toaster back.

It had been almost a week since their conversation in the diner. Ana had been as reclusive as ever, and he had wondered if maybe she had changed her mind. With every day that had passed, he could feel the jungle creeping up on him, his squadmates eager to drag him back into the mud.

Whatever effect she had on him had been temporary, and in the last couple of days, the nightmares had returned with a vengeance. He was running on fumes, Cutter's burnt face hovering over him when he woke.

Oddly enough, even though the nightmares had returned, his attraction to Ana did not fade. He found himself noticing the subtle curve of her breasts through her shirt, or even the cool blue veins that stood up through her pale skin. She had become this oddly ethereal being in his mind, and had begun to feature in his dreams.

Last night, she had called to him from the back of a cave, and he had gone to find her, walking away from Charlie and their gunfire long enough to see her pale form vanish from view. When he tried to follow her into the cave, he got caught up in thick vines that clung to his skin like glue. The more she called to him, the more vines that caught at him until he finally screamed in panic.

That was when Cutter had grabbed him by the boot and dragged him out on his back, smoke coming from his mouth as he screamed in Darren's face. Darren had woken up to find that the blankets had twisted all around him, tangling up his arms and legs, and he had fallen out of bed. By the time he got back from his run, it was still dark, so he had sat in silence, waiting until he heard Ana stirring in her room.

He made some toast and put peanut butter on it. After a few bites, he tossed it on the plate. His stomach wasn't ready for food, so he gave up and went across the street to the library instead. The library had a pseudo staff lounge that Louise had put a coffee maker in. It wasn't as good as Matty's, but it would at least help keep him awake.

He checked the traps for mice, but they were all empty. Louise had told him to keep the traps out until he had caught something, and he knew the scrabbling sounds she heard were figments of her imagination. Leaving the storage area behind, he saw Ana roll in through the front door, the breeze catching her hair and making it float around her like an eerie halo.

"Good morning, Ms. Rae." A little girl walked up behind her, and Ana smiled, greeting the child in return. The little girl held a novel in her arms, and the two of them were discussing it in animated detail, moving down the hall and to the front desk. It was strange to see her so animated, as if she felt safe dropping her guard in front of this child.

It was hard to keep his eyes off of her as the day went by. He was replacing broken shelves on the second floor during story time and watched as Ana used hand puppets while reading to the children. They laughed and giggled when she dropped her voice to imitate a bear, and begged her to read another when story time was over. Later, he was repainting a wall in the bathroom when he caught a glimpse of her quietly moving through the library, her chair squeaking as she returned books to their shelves.

In these moments, Ana was someone else entirely. She moved with confidence and purpose, quickly moving through her tasks. When she thought nobody was looking, she would talk to the books as if they were old friends, occasionally laughing or frowning at some unheard response. He couldn't tell if she was simply crazy or reminiscing with her memories, but either answer didn't bother him.

He wished he could see the books as she did, and speak to them like old friends. All his friends were gone, and no longer worth talking to. The loud bang of the front doors made him watch the top of Hayden's skull disappear once more, and a motorcycle that backfired outside had him running through the jungle, carrying Dwayne over his shoulder while Charlie fired at them. He had a scar on his bicep from that time, the result of a bullet that had skimmed him only to bury itself in his brother's corpse.

The roof was his favorite place to go during these times. The HVAC system was loud enough to drown out both worlds, allowing him a noisy moment of peace, and there was something soothing about standing above the town and watching it from above like an eagle. The whole world was visible from here, and the shadows were few.

Standing on the roof, he cast his gaze across the street, looking into the steeple of the church. Squinting, he could just make out a glimpse of a thick, white curtain that billowed in the breeze.

There was a screeching of tires down below. He walked to the edge of the roof, looking down at the top of a white pickup. There was a pair of marks on the road behind it, and the little boy who had fallen off his bike sat in front of it on the road. The driver got out, and Darren recognized the stranger from the bar in his long, white jacket. He knelt down to check on the boy, then helped him away from the road.

"Hmm." He had figured those guys had left a bit ago. For a pair of men who were traveling, they sure weren't in a hurry to go anywhere new. Scratching his ear, he watched the truck go down the road and eventually park near the market. Cyrus got out and went inside, alone.

When he went back downstairs, he had Louise dial the station for him and he let Sheriff Walters know what he saw. The sheriff thanked him and hung up. It probably meant nothing, but if either of those guys decided to cause problems again, Walters would want more than just a spare deputy. His hand had been sore until just a couple days ago, and he squeezed it again, just to verify that the ache had subsided.

Some storm clouds rolled through in the afternoon again, but passed by without rain. By the time Ana locked the doors of the library, the sun had come back out and the air smelled like distant rain. Darren stopped at home to grab an umbrella, tucking it under one arm.

When Ana came out of the library, she let a small smile slip before locking the door behind her.

"Here. I can carry that." She took the umbrella and tucked it into her wheelchair. She rolled down the ramp and stopped at the crosswalk. "I know a good place we can go."

"Lead the way." He walked just to the side and behind her. Her chair rocked from side to side over the bumps in the road, and they walked past the large park next to the library. There was a small dirt trail hidden just past the park in between a pair of yews. The branches swayed when she passed through, and he stopped at the opening for just a moment.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and stepped through, the damp air and the scratching branches taking him away for just a second. The trail widened on the other side, and he let out his breath. The trail wasn't paved, but it was well worn, and Ana had no trouble navigating it.

"Aren't you worried that the battery in your chair will die?" he asked when he realized they were heading down a hill.

"Not really. My arms work just fine, it would just be a challenge to get back home." The trail curved up ahead, and he walked beside her. "This is actually one of my favorite places here in town. It reminds me of where I grew up."

"And where was that?"

She was silent for a few moments. "East of here. A small town that doesn't exist anymore. How about you? Where did you grow up?"

"In the South." He shrugged. "Where doesn't really matter, because I don't like talking about it much."

"I'm sorry. Bad childhood?"

"Not quite. My childhood was actually pretty good. I think that's the reason it's hard to think about."

Her chair stopped, and she rotated. "I don't understand. How could a good childhood be painful?"

"Um..." He let out a huge sigh. "It's... this is hard stuff for me, so..."

"You don't have to."

"I... I would like to. To tell you, that is." Where to begin? "I had a twin brother. We looked identical, but were different in a lot of ways. I guess the saying goes that we were two sides of the same coin. We were both popular growing up, but Dwayne more so. He just had a way about him. He was my best friend."

"What happened to him?"

"Vietnam. There was a colossal fuck up and we got stuck in the same squad, the army thought we were the same person. But here's the thing. I was drafted, so he joined. That's just how Dwayne was. He didn't want his little brother to be alone in a foreign country."

"Little brother?"

"By seventeen minutes." Darren smiled. "Imagine growing up in a magnificent home that was full of love, laughter and memories. Now imagine coming home to find out it's burned to the ground, taking all of those things with it. That's what happened in the war. My brother, he..." his voice hitched in his chest. It was a truth that he couldn't voice out loud.

"He died." Ana shook her head. "That must have been hard."

"Yeah. When I came back from the war, I didn't know what to expect. I was greeted at the airport by people who spat on me, and threw garbage. All I wanted to do was get home to my dad and mourn. That's how I found out my dad blamed me for what happened. Dwayne would have never been there if not for me, and I only lasted a few days in that house before I packed up what little I owned and left."

"I'm sorry. That's awful." She grabbed his fingers and then wrapped her hands around his. "So... you don't have any family that would even know that you were gone?"

He smirked. "That's a weird way to phrase it, but yeah. If I were to die today, I think the sheriff is the only person who would notice."

"Maybe not the only person." She let go of his hand. "When I was little, I lost my family in a fire. My mother and my sisters."

"That must have been hard. I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Is that how you ended up in the chair?"

Ana laughed. It had an immediate effect on him and he wanted to hear it again.

"No, it wasn't the fire. After the fire, I lived on the streets. I was hit by a car and the owner had money. As part of the settlement, he got me a nicer chair. I bounced from place to place, much like you, until Louise found me lurking around Matty's one morning." The path narrowed again, but the air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers. The park was now above them on the hill, and he could hear running water up ahead.

The trail vanished, revealing a small sitting area next to a creek. All around him were yellow and purple flowers, and they swarmed with bees and butterflies. A dilapidated bench overlooked the river, and he picked up a Coke bottle that had been left by the creek.

"This really is nice. I'm surprised nobody else is here."

"It's a well-known spot if you're a horny teen." She smirked. "As long as you don't come here at night, you'll get the place to yourself."

"I see." The area was private, well away from roads or homes. He supposed any small town in America had a dozen such places, if you knew where to look. Ana rolled next to the bench, so he sat down next to her.

They sat in silence for several minutes, just listening to the songbirds and the buzzing bees. If he closed his eyes, he could picture the summer of his thirteenth year, chasing Katy McQueen around the swimming hole back home. He had hoped for a kiss, but Dwayne had beaten him to it. It had caused one of the few fights they had ever had.

"Do you think about over there very often?" Ana's voice was cautious.

"Every day. It sneaks up on me all the time. It can be a sight or a sound. Even a smell. The memories are so intense that I can't tell what's real or not. For the first year I was home, I often wondered if I was a POW who had finally snapped, dreaming about home."

"Were you ever captured?"

"Briefly. Me and Little Mike were held at gunpoint for about an hour. We were trying to fix a jeep that had broken down when Charlie caught us completely unarmed. There were only a few of them, all just as young and scared as we were. They had gotten separated from their squad, and I think they wanted us to fix the jeep so they could get back. But Hayden and Dwayne picked them off from the treeline with rifles, and that was the first time I saw a man die up close."

"Sounds scary."

"I used to think so." He thought of Cutter dragging him out of the cave. "But I saw far scarier things before the war was done with me."

"Like what?" Ana put a hand to her mouth. "I'm really sorry, maybe I shouldn't ask."

"No, it's okay. It's like I said before, something about you just feels different. Safe even."

She frowned. "You think I'm safe?"

"Well, based on our first week together, I figured you couldn't think less of me than you already did."

"Oh, that." She waved her hand dismissively. "I've lived alone for so long that I've forgotten how to be around other people. I'll admit, I didn't want you around, it wasn't anything personal. But the timing was... fortuitous."

"How so?"

Ana turned her face toward the creek, her eyes on the opposite shore. She seemed to be tracking the motion of a few birds on the other side. "This will sound weird, but in the spirit of being non-judgmental, I feel like maybe I can tell you."