THAT FALL

Josey was never good at obeying instructions. She turned to face the three enormous, black, dog-like creatures rapidly approaching. Moist fur covered their thick, rippling muscles. The grace was stunning; the speed impressive. Josey processed her fear, remembering when her neighbor’s dog attacked her, chasing her when she walked home from school and leaving a scar on her ankle from the eight stitches. That dog had been a chihuahua. The three animals which stopped short and encircled Oren and her reminded Josey of Dobermans: Each weighed at least three-hundred pounds and was three or four times the size of the Earth breed. The first had red eyes which shone as if they were lit from within. The second, orange-eyed, snarled revealing four-inch canines. The third, the largest, with purple, glowing eyes, displayed menacing teeth as it snapped at the air. Each had the pointed ears of a Doberman and long, rat tails. Unlike Dobermans, these dogs had dagger-sized claws. To Josey, their growls and snarls, however, were all Doberman. Josey felt her knees buckle.

In the haze of her faint, she heard Reynolds call, “Canitopine! Asta! Wentig! Come!” The creatures bolted away to join Reynolds at the edge of the property where the woods met the creek. They leapt around him like puppies and he wrestled with them as he approached. He said, “My yarlings. Like earth dogs. These guys are a similar breed to Earth Dobermans.”

Josey said, “I can see that.”

Reynolds continued to tussle with the creatures as he said, “Sorry to scare you. I would not have let them run ahead if I thought anyone would be in the yard.”

“Right,” Oren said, his hand to his chest. “Look, man. I’ve had enough scary shit for a few days. And I don’t think Renya is in the best state to bring me back again.”

Reynolds fought a slight smile and asked, “What are you two doing out here in the middle of the night?”

Oren shrugged and said, “Just getting some air.”

Reynolds pointed to the woods and the three yarlings shot forward, taking positions, statue-still, at the center and corners of the rear of the property. Without another word, Reynolds turned and entered the rear door of the house. Josey realized that Reynolds never touched doors: The doors just seemed to open as he approached. Nice trick.

Oren followed, but she grabbed his arm and said, “Wait, Oren. We’re not done with our conversation. And let Reynolds find out about her condition before we get involved.”

“Josey, we need to tell him what we know.”

She pulled at his shirt, amazed he was not wearing a coat in the freezing night. She said, sensing danger, “Just wait.”

“But we can help–”

The howl from within the house cut off Oren’s words and filled the world. The tremor moved through the ground and Josey’s body, as if her internal organs were shaking behind her rib cage. Several windows of the house exploded outward, sending glass over Josey and Oren’s heads. They tried to find their feet. The trees swayed and creaked. The yarlings echoed the howl from inside the house and Josey covered her ears. A second howl, deep and terrible, followed. Several of the staff rushed out of the rear and side doors, fleeing the screams. Josey did not need to ask who was screaming in pain. Oren scrambled forward and Josey hesitantly followed. Another howl threw them both off their feet as they tried to reach the house. A wail. Then a booming voice entered Josey’s every cell: “I will torch this planet!”

Oren continued forward and finally reached the door. Josey stumbled in after him and found most of the occupants in the basement covering their ears. Some covered their eyes. As the house trembled with the earthquake, she and Oren made their way to the main floor where Reynolds was glowing not in a shimmering gold, but in a blood red. His face was twisted in pain; his eyes onyx black. His form filled the room.

Except for his sickly gray skin, Doctor Tirifini seemed unfazed. He raised his hand towards the glowing being and said, “Onnage, this is not helping.”

Josey would never call that thing Reynolds again. Reynolds was a fiction who spent time on Longwood’s third floor. Reynolds was a being who liked coffee but did not eat. A being who romped in the yard with his three dogs. A being who had a wife and children. The thing in the middle of the basement was not a man. Josey could swear it had ram-like horns. And a tail. And it seemed on fire.

The thing raised its hands, balls of red forming in his palms. It growled, and the house shook again, its walls cracking. The rafters overhead started to twist and ache and splinter. “I will burn it!” it screamed, and Josey grabbed the sides of her head as as its words seemed to come not through her ears, but through her skin, echoing in her brain.

The doctor repeated, calmly: “Onnage. This will not help Renya. Or anyone. You promised to remain cloaked so you do not scare others. And everyone on this planet can hear you. The Ryads. The Andolonians. Everyone. Do you want that?”

The light-being dimmed. The balls in the being’s hands shrunk and disappeared. The thing dropped its arms and let itself fall to its knees. It was still for a moment, then returned to the appearance Josey knew as Reynolds. She would never say that name again as she noticed those who had stayed in the house were kneeling, still holding their hands over their ears. Only Doctor Tirifini and Oren stood near the being.

Oren seemed inspired. He yelled, “Hey!”

The being raised its eyes to Oren. It growled.

Oren asked, “If I had sedation, I’d hit you with a triple. Do you want to help your family? Because it looks like you just want to have a fit and scare everybody.”

Several of the medical staff and workers fled through the front door.

“Your wife? She’s mad at you. She’s doing this to get back at you. For whatever… whatever you did. So, grow a pair and work it out,” Oren said without fear or hesitation.

The being stood upright and said, “Renya was right about you, Oren Clark.” Then it left the house without another sound, disappearing into the dark yard.

Oren took the doctor’s arm and said, “I saw in her mind. When she revived me. She hates him. And it has something to do with the kid. With Navin.”

Doctor Tirifini approached him, asking, “Did you say you saw anger in her mind? At Onnage?”

“Yes.”

“We need to have a chat with Onnage,” the doctor said, looking at the window overlooking the yard.

Josey said, “I can’t believe you just stood there. Why didn’t you run or cover your ears and cower like the others?”

Doctor Tirifini’s skin turned a light blue. “Cower? Oh, never. If he wants to destroy me, he will no matter whether I am standing or running. And I’ve been the family physician a long while. That little show was nothing compared to the time his youngest daughter was cursed. Terrible day, that was,” he said, pausing and smiling at the memory. “As for ears, well, I have none, dear. Can’t hear a thing. I can feel the vibrations. But I don’t have to listen to his roaring. Makes it easier for me to deal with his little outbursts.”

“Little outbursts?” Josey asked.

“He is perturbed. It will pass.” Waving his hand towards Josey, he said, “But you need to come with me.”

“Me? Why?” Josey asked.

“Why does Renya keep asking for you?” the doctor asked, as his skin turned a spring lavender.

“Me? I have no idea,” Josey said.

“Josey is Renya’s granddaughter,” Oren said without hesitation.

The occupants of the adjoining rooms stood from their knees and crouching positions and moved closer to Oren. The silence frightened Josey.

“Granddaughter? Why do you think that?” Doctor Tirifini asked.

“When she, when Renya revived me, I saw in her mind.” Oren licked his lips and tried to collect his thoughts. He said, “Look, I don’t want to speak out of turn. But this is a mess and I figure I have to say something. She, Renya. She’s mad at Reynolds. Really mad. And she has to protect Josey.”

“Why do you think this human is Renya’s granddaughter?” the doctor asked with disbelief.

Oren frowned. “I saw it in her mind.”

The thin, yellow thing that looked like a mantis, leaned over and whispered in the doctor’s ear.

“Well, tell them,” the doctor said. “Go on.”

“I have been ordered not to disclose—”

Doctor Tirifini slapped his large hand against his thigh. “Obviously, this information will be helpful, Vrantock.”

“She’s the one the Ryads want,” the mantis-being said, gesturing one of his clawed arms towards Josey. His eyes filled with resignation.

“I wish you military types would share vital information. That explains why Renya has demanded to see you. Up we go,” the doctor said, gesturing for Josey to climb the stairs.

Josey backed away. “I’m… I’m leaving.”

“Josey, just go talk to her,” Oren said. “She needs you.”

“Why? No. Why?” Josey said, taking another step back. “I have nothing to say.”

“She specifically asked for the one called Josey. That is you, is it not?” the doctor asked. Josey watched his skin fade from the lavender to a light grey and then glow a light blue.

Josey took another step back and then bolted through the back door, slamming the screen open and running as fast as she could into the yard. This was too much. What did Oren mean? She was one of them? Where could she go? She looked around the yard and bolted to the driveway. She could take the car. She would need to find the keys. She struggled to open the driver’s side door. Not seeing the keys in the ignition, she flipped the visor. Nothing dropped. She searched the console and swiped her hand under the driver’s seat. Nothing. Navin would never give her the keys. She could walk. She had made her way across the country with nothing but a backpack and a smile before. She could just walk. But she had no food. And the spaceship hovering in the distance caused her to hesitate. Was she safer if she left? If she stayed? Why would Renya want to talk to her? She was Josey. A ghost of Longwood. An abused, suicidal girl. The child of a woman who did not tell Josey that her biological father was dead until long after the man she thought was her father had started his abuse. The girl who had gotten a useless English Literature degree. The girl who cycled through roommates and friends and lovers with the change of the seasons. Or the sunrise. The girl who could not live with her powers.

She noticed the sun peeking and turning the horizon a dark orange. At least she could count on the sunrise. After her Victor experience, hell, after her father experience, she should have learned to trust no one. And, now Oren was spewing all kinds of lies. And where was Jack? How could he have slept through Reynold’s caterwaul? And what was Reynolds anyway? Josey tried to take an inventory of the disturbing incidents: Spaceships in the sky shooting lightning beams at the earth. Glowing beings. Aliens. She had not taken her medication in a few days. Perhaps she was suffering withdrawal and none of this was happening. That was the most attractive explanation.

She wrapped her arms around her thin frame, trying to warm herself inside the oversized sweater. Normally, she would have some intuitive hint at what to do. She was too unnerved. Wandering into the yard, she walked along the edge of the property and listened to the creek. In the predawn darkness, she could not see the water, but she could hear it rolling and bubbling across the stones and pebbles below. She closed her eyes and listened, wishing she was home meditating instead of freezing in this October morning with these monsters. And that’s what they were. Monsters. She could just make out the silhouette of one of those yarlings at the corner of the property. Motionless, its eyes glowed red in the dimness. Monster dog. Monsters that grew and had horns and glowed red. Monsters who lied.

“Take a seat, Josey Nordstrom,” a voice said from the darkness. She turned. The being, she would never again call Reynolds, was sitting on the lawn, legs bent. Calm and thoughtful, he was pulling up tufts of grass.

“Are you going to go all fire-being again?” she asked.

“Have a seat,” he said, patting the ground.

She considered running and thought of the yarlings. She might get away if she jumped down into the creek. With resignation, she lowered herself onto the cold ground, keeping a slight distance from him and pulling her sweater tightly around her. She tucked her hands into her sleeves and said, “Cold out here this morning.”

“I don’t feel it.”

Of course, you don’t. You’re made of fire or something. She coughed. She said, “I think I’m going to get going soon.”

“I know you want to leave,” he said. “There is not much that I do not know.”

“Then how come you can’t fix your wife?” she asked, regretting her teasing. Teasing him when he was in room thirty-one before he grew into a ten-foot fire monster, was much less threatening.

“That, I do not know,” he admitted.

“It’s probably your fault,” she blurted. “I mean, with family stuff, it’s everyone’s fault. You know?”

He picked at the grass and stared at the horizon. Josey followed his eye-line to the silhouettes of the three yarlings still in the same positions. He said, “I know my wife is angry with me. Until a moment ago, I had not realized her condition was revenge on me.”

“I didn’t say that—”

“You thought it. Oren thought it. Oren knows. Now, so do I.”

“Why didn’t you know already? I thought you know everything.”

He sighed. “I know when it becomes real.”

Josey chortled. “There you go again with your man of mystery comments.”

He pulled up a tuft of grass and rolled it between his fingers. “I am sorry that I cannot make the truth clear.”

Josey could no longer see the yarlings’ glowing eyes. As the horizon warmed into a soft orange, she considered her options. If she left - if they permitted it - she had nowhere to run. If she stayed, she would suffer this madness. Perhaps her suicide was inevitable.

Reynolds said, “You tried to take your life many times.”

“Yup.”

“You acknowledge that so casually.”

“Yup.”

He said, “Do you have such little respect for life?”

She considered his question, letting her mind review her suicide attempts and her heart experience the emotions of those moments. “I don’t respect this life, no.”

“You are waiting for a next life? A rebirth?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” she said.

He sighed and Josey swore the trees at the other end of the yard bent to his breath. “You have only this life.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. I hope you’re wrong.”

“I am not,” he said.

She watched the horizon warm to a lighter orange. It seemed they were silent for a long while and she noticed she was not getting any colder. “So, what are you anyway?”

“See this grass,” he said, showing her a tuft he had pulled up. “I am this. And the sunrise. And the air.”

“Well, that makes no fucking sense,” she said.

“I suppose not,” he said, “but it is the truth.”

They sat, watching the sun rise. She finally said, “If you’re so powerful, Mister Fire Monster, how come you can’t stop the war? Fix all of it?”

“I need her to stop it,” he said, pulling up another tuft of grass and tossing it across the yard. Josey was sure it almost hit one yarling. “She and I. We are one. We are… incomplete without the other.”

“Like the God and Goddess?” He did not answer her as he threw another tuft of grass. She said, “Well, since I’m going to die and all of that, which I really planned on being by my hand and not by some aliens shooting me or whatever, can you explain any of this?” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Children are a tricky thing,” he said. “Sometimes they do not do as they are told. They do not behave as you raise them.”

“Navin?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “Renya and I have many children. It is complicated.”

“So, you’re not going to tell me?” she asked.

He picked at the grass and pulled up a six square inch tuft. He dropped it and said, “No. I am not.”

“Why? Because I’m some stupid human?”

He chuckled. “I do not tell you because the telling makes me sad.”

“You have one fucked up family.” She was not sorry she said it.

“You have no idea,” he said.

If she was a member of this family, she would fit right in. The coo of a morning dove gave her a moment of peace. “This planet is toast, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m as good as dead anyway,” she said, avoiding her deeper question.

“Not you, no,” he said, pointing at the yarling at the far left corner. The creature circled the property, pausing at intervals to sniff the air. They watched the animal until it returned to its original position and its stillness.

“Why not me?” she asked.

“Because Oren told you the truth. You are one of us,” he said.

She sensed resignation in his tone. “Why do you sound like you are sad to say it? Do I embarrass you?”

He laughed then. “Embarrass? No. Not you. My children. They bring shame by meddling in human affairs.”

“By, what? Making human children?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And you think I’m one of your… that I’m your granddaughter?”

“You are.” He pulled another clump of grass from the earth and smashed it between his thumb and forefinger. “You were never to be told. But here we are.”

Josey frowned. “Why not tell me? What does it matter?”

“It matters a great deal. Telling you is like telling the ant on this grass it is as powerful as a hawk.”

Josey absorbed the metaphor and suffered the sting of the insult. “So, I’m an ant?”

“That is not what I meant, Josey. I mean that revealing your nature could be too much to bear.”

“Can I… can I glow like you do?” she asked, more amused than excited by the prospect.

“I do not know. I am sure we will find out,” he said.

“Am I immortal?” she asked, wondering how she had come so close to death three times but had not died. Was she testing herself? Had she known all along?

“No. You are the child of an immortal and a human. You can die. I am not sure what powers you may have.”

“You don’t know? Well, that’s great. I might just turn into some red fire monster in my sleep? No thanks—”

“See? Too much to bear.” He placed the grass on the ground and rubbed his palms together. He inhaled, deeply. “Your father. My son, Mastema, was the magistrate of this planet.”

“Should I care?” she asked. “Like, will he be offering me some job or something?”

Reynolds smiled. “No, Josey. The Ryads were determined to find you and take you.”

“Take me where?”

“We are not sure. But,” he hesitated, exhaled and said, “we were protecting you and using you to draw them in.”

She pursed her lips and said, “So, a pawn like I guessed.”

“Not a pawn, Josey.” He huffed and the trees at the far side of the property bowed. “You are so troubled you expect everyone is trying to harm you.”

“Aren’t they? Aren’t you using me and risking me?”

“No,” he said. “I cannot explain this in one sitting. And it hurts too much to tell.”

She watched a bird flit from tree to tree. From its size, she figured it was a chickadee. The dove cooed again. She fought to experience the normal moment, as if it was just a typical morning and she would get dressed and go to work. The feeling eluded her. She said, “Renya’s angry.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Oren told me. He… he seems to think Renya’s angry at you.”

He shook his head and pressed his lips together. Josey noted that he was incredibly good-looking when he appeared human. She wondered how real this version of him was. He started to speak then stopped himself, picking at the grass like an angry child.

Josey understood anger. She said, “What’s upsetting you? Besides the obvious.”

“It’s my fault.”

“The war?”

The being glared at her and said, “No. These beings make their own choices.”

“Then why are you here with your mission?” she asked.

“To restore peace so you humans can evolve without interference.”

She nodded. Well, that plan is not coming together, she thought and asked, “Then what’s upsetting you?”

He threw another tuft of grass across the yard. Josey watched it fly over the tree line and estimated it landed in somewhere in Europe. He grumbled, “I know she is angry. She… we had a fight. And she’s doing this to herself.”

Josey controlled her chuckle but let the question slip: “What did you cheat on her or something?” When the being glared into her, his eyes almost black, she stammered, “I guess that’s a no… sorry. So, you think she’s… she’s phasing because you and she had a fight?”

“I know it.” It threw another tuft of grass. Josey predicted that that one landed in Greenland. The being looked at the starless sky. He said, “She has no reason to be phasing other than to punish me.”

She nodded, not understanding. He apparently understood his own puzzles. That had to be enough. She asked, “Okay. So how do we fix this?”

“We do not.”

Josey reformed her question: “Okay. How do we get her to wake up?”

“We do not.”

Josey had heard that position from hundreds of addicts and depressed patients. This was nothing new. “So, are you the type of man… being… who just gives up? I see a being who has been fighting for a long time.”

“I have.”

“So, do you have such little respect for life?” Josey asked.

“I am not in control. She is,” he said.

The vitriol in the being’s voice was clear. Josey asked, “Are you angry at Renya?” He tossed a tuft of grass towards Josey. She picked it up. It radiated like a little heater.

“You seemed to shiver,” he said. “That will help.”

Josey pulled the tuft to her chest and was immediately warm. “Thank you.”

He said, “I am not angry at her anymore. I did not want her to go on this mission. We fought about it.”

“But she went anyway?”

“Yes. Because Navin went.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Josey said.

The being reached into his shirt and produced what appeared to be a book. It levitated before them, spinning on nothing. “That’s her diary,” he said.

“Did you read it?”

“I cannot. I would not. It is her private world. And she encoded it. Only she can read it.”

Josey reached for the book. It floated to her. She said, “I have a journal. Which I left at Longwood because you people were in such a rush.”

“I would not worry about anyone ever reading it. Longwood is gone,” he said.

She pressed her lips together and nodded. She said, “You know what I wrote in my journal?”

“Yes,” he said.

She had not expected him to say yes. How uncomfortable. “And how would you know?” she asked.

“I know everything that is,” he said. “Just like I know you want to call me grandpa.”

“Well, you don’t know what’s in my journal,” she said, lifting Renya’s diary. “Or how to wake her.”

He sighed, exhaling his wind and the trees bent at his breath. He said, “October first: Dave is a nice guy. It’s been a long time since I met a nice guy. I’m probably wrong like I always am. I thought Victor was a nice guy. That was foolish. But this time, I’ll be smart–”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t have to recite my journal to me. I know what I wrote.”

“As do I,” he said.

“But you can’t do the same thing with her journal? Why not?” she asked.

“Because she is the one thing that is not me,” he said.

“Well, that makes no sense. Navin’s right. You make no sense,” she said, examining the book in her hands.

“Sometimes what is true makes no sense. Like Josey Nordstrom wanting to die,” he said. “That hurts me.”

She frowned. What a strange thing for him to say. She said, “I recorded all my dreams. In my journal. Which you know, I guess.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe she did the same thing?” she asked. “You can give it to her. Reading my own thoughts often helps me think things through.”

“She is not herself,” he said. “I doubt she can even access it.”

A thought rose inside her. She winced at its power. “Do you think she’s in there? In that body?”

“It’s not a body. Not really.”

“But is she in there, Mister Man of Mystery? Is she there?” Josey asked.

“We assume she is,” he said.

“Because I had a dream. A dream about a garden…” Josey said, collecting her thoughts.

“A garden?”

“Under a dome,” she said. “The woman called her child Navin. It must have been Renya.”

He sat upright and said, “What did she say?”

“I… I’m not sure… I had a few dreams–”

“What did she say?” he began to glow.

Josey winced and said, “Maybe something like I wake… no… only I can wake I. That’s it. Only I can wake I.”

The being stood and leaned over Josey. He extended his hand and said, “Give me the journal.”

Josey was not surprised as he turned and entered the house, leaving her with the doves and the sunrise. She hurried after him and found him in Renya’s room. addressing Doctor Tirifini.

“I know it will work.“ He added, matter-of-factly, “Because if my wife does not get better, your particularly long life will come to an abrupt end.”

“Now, Onnage, take that back!”

Josey could tell Reynolds was far from kidding but could not help jibing. “Onnage?” She smirked.

Reynolds grumbled. “That is my name. A version.” He pointed at her and commanded, “You keep calling me Reynolds.” Reynolds looked at Renya. His sigh was full of frustration and anger. He looked around the room, as his whisper vibrated the walls and windows: “Someone do something.”

“Did you notice this?” the tall man asked, pointing to Renya’s ear.

The chameleon doctor leaned over. “Yes. Strange. Onnage, why would the vehicle-body have a scar?”

Reynolds did not look where the doctor pointed. “No idea.”

The chameleon doctor changed into an orange-purple shade. “Onnage. Don’t be difficult. This scar. Behind her ear.”

“What about it?”

“Do you know how she chose to have it? To mark the body that way?” The doctor sighed at Reynold’s silence. “Do you want me to help her or not?”

“The scar is irrelevant.”

“Nothing is irrelevant, Onnage. These bodies are designed. Why would she add a scar to hers?”

“She is being dramatic,” Reynolds said. When Doctor Tirifini began to tap the computer screen with one of his longer fingers, Reynolds relented. He said, “I gave it to her. To her real body. We…” he hesitated, and said, “we had an argument. Which is why I know I am the only one who can save her.”