Firstliners

Brother Eagle/Sister Wolf

“The locals say that the old man at the end of Wallows Road is nothing but creepy. They’re terrified of him,” Dexter told his twin.

“So you’re out to prove them wrong? I thought you were out there to gather the stories and fables, telling them as they are told. Not offering your opinion,” David said.

David always did that, and it irked Dexter, played the big brother role. Hell he’s only a minute older. “Yes, Dave that is what I’m to be doing, but it’s just hard, you know, when all of it is such crap. I’m glad this is the final book of this contract, I can’t stand working with these guys anymore.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll still have the writing tour and everything afterwards to deal with,” David said.

“Thanks bro’ for reminding me. Now I can get on with my fabulous life,” Dexter said and then asked, “How’s Cam?” Initially, Dexter hadn’t taken the news that his twin was gay and moving to Massachusetts to get married, very well; in fact he had stopped talking to David for an entire year. But, after the intervening years, he at least could ask after Cameron’s health from two thousand miles away. Even though it had been two months since Nana had told him about Cam’s car accident.

“He’s doing well. He broke his leg in the accident; nothing serious. Thanks for asking. I’ll tell him that his concerned brother-in-law asked after him,” David said with a chuckle.

“I know it’s kind of late, but at least I inquired. Listen I should go, I need to get up at the crack of dawn to get out to this Melvin Two Hawks’ house. It’s like a three hour trip, so I’ll talk to you later, ok.”

* * *

The next morning Dexter stepped blurry-eyed into the Wallows diner for coffee –- lots of it, even though it was the worst he had ever had –- and breakfast just as he had the first two times he had made the journey out to Melvin’s place. Dexter guessed that Alice Mayo –- the diners’ elderly waitress and owner –- had finally warmed up to him. She gave him her version of advice while serving his breakfast.

“Be prepared to run like the dickens when he starts telling his story; those that stay to the end, never leave,” Alice had said after Dexter asked her about the screaming house story he had heard tell of.

“You’re just trying to scare me aren’t you?” Dexter said with a smile.

He knew it was all crap. He had been driving around the southwest for two months now, to date he hadn’t found any reason to think that any of the “local ghost stories and such” where anything more than just that: stories. Wives tales and fables passed down from generation to generation to scare the kiddies to keep them in line. Sometimes he went along with the game, letting the person spinning the tale try to give him a good scare. So far no one had succeeded. The only thing different about this story is that it had sprung up within his lifetime. Well maybe not in my lifetime, the last forty-five years, but at least in the lifetime of the village of Wallow, Arizona’s oldest resident, who just happened to be Melvin Two Hawks.

“Am I? You must be one of those nonbelievers, one of those people who think that ifin' they haven’t seen it, it ain’t true. Well, I’ll admit, I’m a hard sale myself. But you mind my words, ‘cause you seem like a nice boy, I don’t wunt nothin’ unseemly happenin’ ta' ya'. Ole Melvin lives way out ta’ hell and back, and that’s sayin somethin’ ‘round here. A lot of nice people have come ta' nasty ends in the Arizona desert. My advice ta' ya' is, don’t get ta’ thinkin’ ya' are something special, ‘cause ya' could end up just like ‘em.” She gave Dexter a stern look, then continued, “Now I’m not sayin’ Melvin had anythin' ta' do with those people disappearin’. My money is on that he didn’t. The man is as old as dirt, what could he do even ifin’ he wanted ta'. I’m just sayin' many people have gone missin' in that desert leadin' out to Melvin’s place. They may or may not have made it all the way out there, ifin' there is where they were headed, who knows. Lord knows Melvin lives way out in the middle of the desert close to nothin’. It’s just that the last time anyone seen any of those people is on the road to Melvin’s place. And we’re only talkin’ about a few people here over many, many years, but that is all it takes, ain’t it, ta' get the lore started,” Alice gave him a fleeting smile.

“That’s true.” Dexter said.

“Now, people ‘round these parts tell their kids they’ll drop um off at the end of Melvin’s road,” Dexter gave her a perplexed look, “Yeah, it’s Melvin’s road now, since they put in the new highway ten years ‘go, which if truth be told ain’t much of a highway being that it's only two lanes. Melvin’s road used to be called Wallows road. It’s only used now ta' get ta' Melvin’s. Beyond his place they say it’s gone back to nature, though I find that kinda funny bein' that there ain’t no nature out there, just rocks and sand.” Alice stood staring down at him. Her wide hips swaying gently as she shifted from one foot to the other.

Her feet must hurt. She must have worked the nightshift and it’s coming to an end soon, being six in the morning. The sun rose, gleaming sullenly through the large plate glass window giving the patina of dust that lay across the diner a faint shimmer and lighting Alice’s wrinkled jowls with an angelic glow. Dexter returned her gaze thinking, she reminds me of Nana, looking down at me like that. Her blond hair, graying at the temples and along the hairline, was pulled back in a tight bun: except for one long wisp at the right temple falling to her shoulder. She kept whisking the unruly strands behind her ear; no sooner had she locked them there, they would fall to kiss her shoulder again. Alice’s piercing blue eyes never left him, and that too was something their grandmother would do. Nana would fix him and David with that stare, and it would hold them where they stood.

Alice slid her considerable bulk into the dinette chair opposite Dexter. When she stood Alice seemed large and imposing, but as she sat she lost much of her authoritative demeanor that too was a parallel to Nana. Dexter didn't put much stock in mumbo-jumbo. It's just a story, and if ole Melvin could tell a whopper all-the-better. What is a story without a good ending? But he could understand why the locals steered clear. Besides that is what the publisher wanted, really good fables and ghost stories from the south and mid west, for a book about – what else – Fables and Ghost Stories of the Mid and South West. Dexter smiled at the lack of originality that went into the title of the book. Alice thought the smile was meant for her and smiled back.

“Ya' see everyone 'round here is scared shitless over ole Melvin. He comes ta' town every now and again. For supplies ya’ know. Mostly he lives off the land. Now I give ‘im his due for that bit of magic; there ain’t many people can live off Arizona desert. But he’s a Navajo, and his family owns most of the land from the edge of town all the way out beyond his house, some of it's still part of the Navajo reservation but not all,” Alice said with an expression that Dexter couldn’t read. “When people see 'im they scatter, like roaches when the lights come on. Bunch of idiots,” The few customers Alice had -- an elderly white man with skin like worn leather, a smallish woman with mousey brown hair, and a local policeman who had just walked through the front door and positioned himself at the counter -- turned to look in Alice’s direction with palpable disdain.

Alice gave them her own look of disdain and said, “It’s the truth; so live up ta' it. Marilyn I saw you the other day, when Melvin was hobblin' down to Oscar’s, crossin' the street and lowerin' your eyes. Elmer how long have you been poppin’ your tent out on Clemens Street Extended – that’s another bit of hilarity to my thinkin’, like anythin' around here needs to be extended,” she interrupted herself. “You only move from that spot for three reasons hooch, food and if Melvin chooses to drive by and you notice him comin'. And Marcus how many times have you had ta' go out Melvin’s road because some stupid kid had gone up there on a dare.” None of them, Marilyn, Elmer or even Marcus the policeman made a return comment. They just turned back to their respective business. Alice’s counterpart -- a smallish woman, who Alice referred to as Sister, that couldn’t have been older than twenty. Sister’s hair, the color of Arizona rock and pulled to one side of her head in a loose ponytail, flopped lazily as she reluctantly stomped over to pour Marcus the policeman a cup of coffee and take his order. Alice scowled at her, then turned back to Dexter and said, “Melvin is mostly harmless. I think he plays up the mystery a bit, ifin' ya' get my meanin’, gives him a good laugh.”

Dexter did.

“I think what gets most folks are his eyes,” she scrunched up her nose and shuddered from head to toe. “They are what gives me the willies and I think it does most folks. They’re black and beady and when he stares at you it’s like he’s searchin’ your soul, looking for somethin’. And if he finds it you won’t be long for God’s green Earth.” Around the small diner all heads nodded in agreement. “That and for no other reason is why I believe: his eyes.”

* * *

One month and two previous visits later and this little old man was still giving Dexter that unflinching stubborn stare. How will I ever break through?

After having driven the long dusty road again to get here, Dexter didn’t care. At times a high wall of red Arizona rock towered on either side. Then the road meandered through great expanses of flat sandy terrain stretching as far as the eye can see. Sometimes the sun was so intensely bright, the Ray-Ban’s – the ones he thought were so fuckin’ cool – were of little use. None of it mattered, he had a deadline to meet, and by far this is the most interesting story I’ve found during my two months in this good forsaken state. If it continues on this way the book may never get finished.

The old man sniffed. Such a small gesture, but it snatched Dexter out of his memories as he approached the porch. That sniff was a judgment, as if Dexter didn't count for much. And it said, Dexter thought, if he told me, I'd never understand anyway, so why bother.

Even from twenty feet away; the house smelled of mold and decay; now on the first step of the porch the smell made Dexter sick to the stomach. You’d think by the third time I’d start to getting use to it. Build up a tolerance. Sometimes the stench took on a fetid meat quality that really got to Dexter. Why did I agree to write this book?

The old man sucked in a deep, noisy breath and coughed, covering his mouth with a flimsy tissue. When he pulled it away a filmy red string of saliva trailed after; he wiped it away quickly, while letting his rheumy eyes fall on Dexter. Dexter flinched. Those eyes, like little chips of coal floating in mucous, bore into his soul, I hate it when he does that, Dexter thought, Alice is right it is creepy.

The old man looked out over the barren sandy field, heat radiating from the ground. Dexter watched, He looks like he's waiting, Dexter thought.

"What you gonna' do when you find out?" The old man threw the question back over his shoulder, like a superstitious housewife pitching salt as a ward.

Dexter leaned against the weathered doorsill staring at the old man's back. This town has secrets, and this man knows them all, even though he's lived on the edge.  "I'm going to put it out there. Let people know. People need to know, Melvin." The laugh came sharp and loud; a shrillness that pierced ears, it mellowed into chuckles, and then morphed into another cough. Melvin put a new tissue to his mouth, dabbing away the bloody phlegm.

"You sound like you've been waiting all your short life to deliver that movie-of-the-week line," he chuckled again.

Dexter smiled, not that Melvin knew. Dexter still enjoyed a great view of Melvin's back and the desolate land beyond. "Nonetheless it's true, Mr. Two Hawks. It's a great story, and from what I can discern no one tells it like you."

"No one, is that right?"

"Yes, sir,” Melvin Two Hawks turned in that unnatural way of his, peering at Dexter through pitch black eyes. The way he did it spooked Dexter the most. Slow and deliberate, like he knew it un-nerved. He twisted his rickety body around in a way Dexter was sure couldn't be natural. The upper body turned, with the lower portion riveted in place. It's just creepy.

"Well, pull up a seat," Melvin Two Hawks said looking satisfied.

Finally, Dexter thought, he’s going to tell me something that I may be able to use. There weren't any other chairs on the porch, so Dexter sat on the steps. Melvin went back to watching the nothingness. In a slow monotonic voice Melvin Two Hawks began.

"My Great-Gran was a Navajo. When I was little, back before there was a town to know my stories, she told me of sister wolf and brother eagle, about their war, going on since the beginning of time, probably will last longer than you or I can imagine; a war of land and air, a war that defies and rewrites the laws of nature.

When these two great powers come to blows, storms rise to devour the land. The earth is scarred in many places, because of their war, wounds are deep and festering. And we Two Hawks were given a great and enduring task. At the end of Two Hawks Bikéyah stands Wallows Gate; we are its guardians."

Bikéyah meant, 'land' in the Navajo language, but the claim of a fictional gate, Dexter couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"I see you don't believe," Melvin said, his gaze riveted on the field.

"What do you mean you see?"

"There are many ways to see without seeing."

"What's that mean?" Melvin didn't answer. Hadn’t Alice warned Dexter, 'When Melvin gets to tellin' his stories, best not to be askin' any questions.' 'Why is that,' Dexter had asked and received the tart answer. 'Just don't. Get up and leave. I know you want your stories and fables for that book of yourn, but do as I say.'

"Gran said, 'One day you will see, Melvin,' and I did see. My twenty-first birthday I saw all and lost everything, except the responsibility.

The morning of my twenty-first birthday, I awoke to the singing. It was light and beautiful, filling the house with joy. I sat up in bed to look out the window. They were there."

Melvin pointed to the ridge dancing in the haze.

"Like sentinels they lined the ridge, watchin'. The singin' grew louder and deeper; the bass joined the harmony and started to throb, vibrating my bones. I only understood every third or fourth word: the singing was in the old language, I never learned the old language.

A third voice joined. The sentinels rose from their haunches and ran toward the house: cresting the hills in great numbers. That's when the first eagle screamed. The beat of sister wolf's paws created great clouds of dust, but they were out done by the flapping of Brother Eagle’s wings blotting out Mother Sun.

Hundreds -- thousands -- of eagles swooped down attacking the wolves: their great flapping wings blowing the dust away. I wanted to see the fight better, only my ears seared from the cries of pain. The walls shook, possibly from the singing, possibly from the battle waging outside; I know not. The house shook in waves as if being hit. I flung the bedroom door wide.

A cavern, deep and fiery, laid beyond, above it a perfect azure sky, disbelief and fear forced me to slam the door shut. I could hear my mother, over the din, calling. But not her voice; more her thoughts sweat and eternal. Then I heard my father's voice a deep rumbling baritone. The strongest Great-Gran’s voice: high and beautiful, tying them all together. I could see them standing in opposite corner of my room. Then it was not in my room: we were in the circle. A circle of elders standing in a clearing, all with long white hair, wearing flowing white gowns billowing in the wind; then we were back in my room.

"What's happening?" I screamed. They looked at one another then back at me.

"You do not see," Great-Gran asked.

"N…no, I'm afraid, Great-Gran, the wolves and eagles are at war."

"Yes Melvin, you must stop them. You must sing."

"Why?"

"The gate is weak; the winner is gaining great strength. Soon one will be strong enough to enter with ease. It is time for a new gatekeeper. You are of age, it is time to fight and stand guard."

Melvin stopped; lost in his own memories. Dexter had sat through enough interviews to know, let the subject think it through. Let them gather their thoughts; don't rush things if you want a good story. This gave Dexter time to get a better feel for his surroundings. You can learn a lot from what people own, although, since Melvin hadn't invited him into the house that was a wash. Well he doesn't own a car, but the man's pushing ninety, not surprising. There was nothing else. The house, being way out here in the desert didn't help. Wait; didn’t Alice say he goes into town for supplies, how does he get his food and supplies back here? Dexter looked down the long empty road, there's nothing for miles. Dexter noticed the door to the house. He hadn't really looked before. The wood is beautiful. The grain is so…intricate. Dexter wasn't sure, but the grain appeared to shift, just slightly, nothing overt.

Melvin rocked slightly -- humming now. Something moved. Dexter turned back to the door. It definitely moved that time. Dexter moved closer, knowing it was stupid, doors didn’t move or shift or whatever. At the same time he wanted to turn and run, get the hell out of there because Alice’s words kept replaying in his mind; 'When Melvin gets to tellin' his stories, best not to be asking any questions. Get up and leave.' He just couldn't; he needed this story, it could make the whole book. As Dexter reached for the knob, three sets of large bulbous eyes opened staring woodenly at him.

Dexter stumbled backward bumping into something that hadn't been there before: a person. But Melvin sat perched in his rocking chair. Who then? Melvin twisted staring with those rheumy black marble eyes. Beyond Melvin, wolves lined the ridge. And turning to this new person; Dexter saw a younger version of Melvin standing before him.

The older Melvin said, "I did not sing," then screamed like the eagle. The younger version stepped slinkingly toward Dexter growling deep in his throat.

"What's happening?"

"Haven't you figured it out, young one?" The younger Melvin asked, the words grumbling deep in his throat, tumbling from his lips delicious and melodic.

"No, who are you? You're not him." Dexter said terrified.

Young Melvin laughed, high and sweet, off in the distance a chorus of howls rose on the air.

"Brother Eagle, the children of my loins wait, impatiently." Young Melvin looked sharply at Melvin. Then back to Dexter: his sensuous lips parting showing elongated canines. The tongue of this apparition darted out quickly, sliding over the lips and back in.

"Their hunger will be sated Sister Wolf: soon." An unnatural wind blew across the porch. Several large birds landed in the front yard: black feathers glistening in the blistering sun, white feathered heads swiveling, appraising Dexter with impatient black eyes. Old Melvin said with a smile, "As will mine." When Old Melvin -- Brother Eagle -- turned his craggy face back to Dexter, he wasn't so old anymore. He looks as though he's lost twenty years.

The door behind Dexter unhitched. A slow persistent creak followed as the door opened. Through the door -- what should have been the inner sanctum -- was a deep fiery pit beneath a beautiful azure sky. Dexter wavered at the edge, the heat wafting over him. The heat radiating from the fiery tongues below licking at his skin: then he was falling. Dexter flipped over in the burning air: looking back. Young Melvin stood close to the door, where his hand touched: the wood became newer, younger. Behind Sister Wolf, who was beginning to look distinctly feminine, stood her twin Brother Eagle.

* * *

Dexter’s eyes fluttered open.

The sun glared in his eyes; he closed them

He had the sensation of being dragged.

It stopped.

Then, with a sharp biting pain at both his shoulders, it started again.

Dexter opened his eyes again.

Just for a second the bright hot sun was blotted out as something large flew overhead.

* * *

Dexter opened his eyes with a start.

He heard something nearby – a scratching sound – but he couldn’t move his head to see what it was. Something cold held his head and body in place on both sides: he slowly realized that it was two boulders. He could see the red rock face soaring above him. There was something up there. Birds: flapping there wings. Bits of stone and gravel fell, hitting him in the face.

A wolf leapt onto the rock beside where he lay. Dexter tried to get away, but his legs wouldn’t move. Another wolf landed on the rock on the opposite side: they have me hemmed in, I can’t get away.

“Where would you go, little brother?” The wolf to his left asked, its mouth moving just as a human's would. “You are surprised that I talk,” it said and then laughed. “But you’ve already heard me speak.” And then it slowly morphed into Sister Wolf.

“You see little brother, we know each other. You have fed us. Though my brood and my brother’s brood are not sated, we wish not to use you up. You are twinned like us. You are…special.” When she said special she leaned forward and slid her coarse tongue along Dexter’s face.

Dexter opened his mouth to scream; nothing came out.

“Oh, you can not speak, little brother. My brother considers that a…delicacy. He agreed not to kill you, but he would not be denied the larynx. You are lucky to have survived; I had my doubts.”

A large stone hit the ground not twenty feet away. The wolf to Dexter’s left yelped as it jumped out of the way. Sister Wolf growled angrily up at the avian perched along the ridge. Another stone hit the ground closer. “It appears my brother grows restless,” Sister Wolf said angrily. She changed back into her wolf self and leapt away with her companion.

Within minutes he was completely covered; except for a small air hole that allowed him to breathe. When the rock slide stopped he tried to look around but couldn’t. He heard a scuffling above and behind his head. An eagle slowly came into his line of vision.

It looked down on him with knowing eyes and then slowly changed shape. Melvin sat above him serenely looking down at Dexter, “I wonder if this will become your movie of the week?” Melvin asked with a slight chuckle. “You may even be able to sell this one as a block buster; who knows. Don’t worry Dexter my sister has convinced me not to take your life, so I won’t. I will make sure someone finds you before you perish, I promise,” he said with a sly smile on his face. “It's time for us to go now. We will see you again, be sure of that, Little Brother.” Dexter saw the rock in his hand too late; he didn’t have a chance to be afraid as it hit Dexter across the brow.

* * *

Dexter’s eyes fluttered open.

David stood above him, “Oh My God, finally, we thought you would never wake up.”

“Hey what happened?” Dexter mumbled, he brought his hand to his throat confused.

“For some reason you decided to climb the side of the mountain. When did you start rock climbing?”

“I didn’t,” Dexter said. I don't know what's going on, Sister Wolf said my larynx was gone, it makes no sense.

“I know, but it’s the only explanation to your being found at the bottom of a rock slide. Care to enlighten us?” David asked then smiled.

“Us?” Dexter asked, only then realizing that there were at least four others in the room. He turned his head and saw Cameron, Alice, Sheriff Marcus and the bum Elmer. “Hi, Cam,” Dexter greeted, then said, “Why are you all here?” He didn't understand any of this. Was it a dream? Something my subconscious constructed to deal with the trauma of being nearly crushed by rocks. No It happened.It happened!

“Elmer found you,” Cam said.

“Yea’ you up off Clemens Street Extended. Way out, way out, dey’ told me where to find ya’. Dey’ say you under da’ rocks. Wolf an' bird told me. Wolf an' Bird,” Elmer muttered.

Dexter looked at him sharply. He knows!

“For God’s sake Elmer, stop that foolishness. You been babbling that nonsense for two weeks now. Ain’t nobody wants ta hear it anymore,” Alice snapped.

“It sure looked like you where climbing up that cliff wall Mr. Dexter. I’m sorry ‘bout your car, that boulder didn’t leave much to tow away. You really have the luck of the gods on your side. All those rocks that fell on you by all rights should have killed you,” Sheriff Marcus said.

“It wern the Bird and Wolf that saved him, it was. Dey’ watchin’, watchin us right now,” Elmer muttered.

“For the love of Pete, Elmer stop,” Alice said exasperated. Elmer slunk back into the corner of the room: still quietly muttering to himself. Alice rolled her eyes and looked back at Dexter, “I told you not to do something stupid boy,” she admonished.

“You sound just like our Nana used too,” David observed.

“Well she’s a smart woman,” Alice said, “but, apparently, since Dexter hasn’t answered my question, he didn’t hear me.”

“That’s something she would say too,” David chuckled.

Dexter smiled -- but it caused him a stab of pain -- and he winced. If I told them the truth – at least what I think is the truth – they wouldn’t believe me. Dexter watched Elmer muttering in the corner. He wasn’t that bad when I met him in the diner. Elmer saw the Wolf and Eagle talk and lost his mind. Dexter felt sorry for him.

Dexter felt them: Brother Eagle/Sister Wolf. They were nearby. He looked out the window. Off in the distance a large bird swooped into view, caught something on the roof of an adjacent building in its talons, flapped its powerful wings hard and steady, and climbed up into the sky and disappeared.