2

Just when Marith started to wonder at what point in time intercontinental flights had become fashion shows for pyjama’s and lounge wear the purser came by with a plate of beverages. Marith took a glass of orange juice, with a handful of pills. There was no need to be intensely annoyed by her fellow passengers and their oversized hand luggage for the next fourteen hours, because she had been given the great gift of a bottle full of prescription painkillers when she had left the hospital.

After she had been admitted into the university medical centre, which was a large factory-like building, on the west side of the central station, she had been given a choice. She had sustained a concussion, several bruised ribs and a mangled body in general. Essentially, she was a banana that survived a rocky trip from the supermarket to her apartments’ kitchen on the bottom of a grocery bag. She was still edible, however barely.

After she had woken up she was told to stay in the hospital one more night ‘to be sure’. Sure of what wasn’t important enough to share with her. Other, more interesting patients, needed attending to. What she did find out was that disrupting her sleep every few hours was apparently crucial ‘to be sure’ she was ready to go home.

Daan had sat at her bedside and told her all about what had happened after the crash, since Marith didn’t remember much. The police, firefighters and medics had arrived at the scene. There had been a lot of blood and their injuries had demanded some serious medical attention.

Daan proudly showed her some gruesome bruises and even a few stitches. As it turned out his head had met forcefully with the pole and later the floor, in an attempt to be saving his saviour.

The indescribable horror had been all over the news ever since. How it could have been much worse if it wasn’t for the fact the train had mostly been empty due to people missing their connecting trains that morning.

How it all could have happened to begin with wasn’t clear. The people responsible for managing the railroads and the people responsible for the train table were naturally missing. A young girl in a tailored suit, that had barely worked two days in her life, was kicked in the face of the camera’s in an attempt at reconciliation with the public.

How accidents like this should be prevented in the future was even more of a conundrum. But one thing was for sure. More tax money to investigate this puzzlement was definitely required.

The question as to why all of it had occurred was the crux, but Marith kept that to herself.

Daan had taken the heroic task of sharing their harrowing tale with the press upon him, while Marith was recovering.

“I left your… part,” he slightly frowned, “… out of it…”

Marith stared back at him with big eyes.

“I really didn’t know what to say about it.” He sounded almost apologetic.

“Neither do I,” Marith answered after a few moments of hesitation, “but thank you… for that… and for everything.” She swallowed back a bad taste and fought some tears.

“Sure thing.” He stared at her for a little more, with piercing eyes, but a hesitant mouth. He either didn’t dare to ask or he didn’t want to know the answers to the questions that lingered on the tip of his tongue. Some things were better left in the shadows.

Their paths separated after that. His parents were picking him up and Marith had some staring at a stained ceiling and wondering about how ceilings get stains to do.

Eventually, after lunch time, a thirty something with a striped scarf and complicated designer glasses had appeared at her bed. He had made encouraging sounds and pitiful faces as she spoke. Marith just knew she could play him. She was familiar with his kind. She had almost become his kind.

“I was with you yesterday, but you hardly responded,” he spoke with a condescending undertone that bothered her.

“Wow, almost as if I’ve been unconscious. Right?”

“Right.”

She was met with an annoyed glare. He was supposed to have the upper hand in this conversation.

“Who to call, who to call.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue while browsing through a little, black book with a flexible leather cover.

“Wait… Is that my agenda?”

“Yup.” He kept leafing through her most personal booklet without scruples.

“What about…?”

“Firewood, honey.”

“What? No!” She flinched at the pain in her ribs. Her plan to be savvy with this social worker ended in tears.

“So, I am not finding any emergency numbers in here and we couldn’t unlock your phone…” His voice trailed off in a way to say that Marith should have been organizing her life better.

He informed her the local police force wanted a statement from her as soon as she was able to live through a questioning. She nodded and smiled at the social worker, knowing very well she would never set foot in any bureau.

A final talk with a doctor in unflattering garments wrapped up her stay in the sick people factory with the speed of light. She was being perniciously expensive to society and some morbidly obese, dipsomaniac baby boomers needed the special treatment they were demanding, but refusing to ever pay for, in the adjacent ward.

Her concussion appeared to be on the mend and she was discharged early the next morning with a bottle full of prescription pills. The heavy kind. Not to be misused, of course. Only to make the pain in her ribs and legs and arms and back and skull and fingers and toes slightly more bearable.

Standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital she had felt bewildered and lonely. Alone was truly alone for her. Marith was the only member of her family still living in the Netherlands. A choice had had to be made. And she had made it already. With ease. It felt like the divorce all over again. Only this time she had full autonomy about which ‘home’ she would be returning to and it wasn’t going to be in Europe.

It was hard to grow up with a mother that had a different favourite child every week and sometimes every day. A mother that would refuse to look her own children in the eye and give them the cold-shoulder without a clear inducement. A mother that would suck all energy and attention towards herself at any given occasion.

Marith had grown so disappointed in the lack of maternal instincts in her mother that, over the years, she had gradually detached herself completely, without saying anything about it.

“If it has to be like this… my dad,” Marith had answered to the scarfed know-it-all the previous day.

She had unlocked her phone and given it to him. In the strange and embroiled conversation that followed, first between the social worker and her father and later between Marith and her father, they managed to explain what had happened to a certain extent. It had been a freak accident. Everybody was more or less alright. Where do we go from here?

In all fairness it had been no later than five o’clock in the morning when they had called. However, her dad, being her down to Earth dad, had eventually suggested the logical next step, Marith already knew he was going to propose.

Standing on that sidewalk outside the hospital she could not believe that she had been seriously debating taking the train home again. One look at the station and the memories of the wreckage came flooding back. She squeezed her eyes to protect them from the bright autumn sunrise.

Cranes, forklifts, construction workers and firemen were all busy trying to clean up the mess that had been made. A mess that had started with Marith travelling to Leiden to give cello lessons.

Red- and white-striped tape and orange traffic cones were supposed to keep the press at a distance and they were failing miserably. What a blessing none of those vultures knew she stood at the cradle of it all.

She shook her head and quickly stepped into the taxi that had just arrived for her. She had ordered it to bring her home, wait outside while she frantically hurled necessities into a suitcase and to then race her to the airport, so she could catch that day’s flight. Only one flight per day left from Schiphol to Beaverton Airport and she didn’t want to be alone in her apartment anymore.

Before lift-off Marith had sunk into a deep sleep. Oblivion and unconsciousness. Her two favourite states of being.

“How about Lisa?”

“She is not at risk. You know that. She will come when she comes.”

“Show me what you see…” Vanessa looked at Kyle with begging eyes, which he didn’t hate. Unfortunately, there was no fresh information to share that afternoon. Just as that morning and the night before.

“Vanessa, I don’t know. Lately, I’ve felt blank. I haven’t seen much. I don’t think anything big is about to happen again soon.”

Vanessa gave him an annoyed glare, that she usually saved for older men. He was eight years younger than she was and, as she had found out, kind of an idiot, but they had connected and Watchmaker believed in him and that was enough for her. Maybe he wasn’t the brightest, but he was loyal and reliable.

Kyle worked at the local clock store, while being a high school senior. He didn’t really possess any skills that would be required to actually fix or sell clocks and other time pieces. He just sort of guarded the store, send the repairs to the back and smiled at new customers, hoping they would just pick a clock, pay and leave. He saw it as a way to get paid to do his homework.

“Sometimes it doesn’t happen like that, Vanessa. Sometimes you will bump into them and figure it out along the way. The Prophets only pick it up when that thing has decided to go for it. If he isn’t planning on new attacks he hasn’t found new Pupils. Maybe you will find the remaining one first,” he tried to comfort her. He followed that attempt up by a wink that she couldn’t appreciate.

“That would safe us a lot of trouble and news coverage.” Vanessa sighed.

He looked at her. Worried and impressed. She was quite a woman and she had quite a task at hand. It was a big responsibility. She was good at what she did, but at times he could feel her crumble under the pressure when they were together. She had this irrepressible urge to find new Pupils. At times, she could go crazy over it. Which would make his mind spin when they touched.

“Just be ready, at all times.”

Vanessa nodded and left the store like the whirlwind that she was. She was supposed to make sure all the Pupils would be found, in time, that Gene would survive - at least until his daughter would arrive - and there was a stack of tests waiting for her to grade.

It wasn’t until Marith smelled the fresh air the plane filled itself with after landing on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean she became excited about her return.

She was standing in the aisle waiting for the walkway of the gate to be connected to the plane. Through the little, oval shaped windows she could see Mount Hood in all its snowy glory in the distance and she knew that extensive forests, filled with peace and quiet, awaited her.

Most of all, her father awaited her. Neither her or Lieke had visited that summer and Marith was looking forward to seeing him again. It was nice to know she had family that cared for her, even if it was at a large distance.

She noticed she was being stared at by fellow passengers and closed her coat a little higher and put on big sunglasses. All to cover up the majority of her skin. These people were dressed like they were attending a slumber party, so Marith didn’t really understand why they deemed the staring as appropriate.

Walking over to the customs officer a little while later she hastily opened her coat and lost the sunglasses again. She looked like a drug runner, which, technically, she was at that moment and she didn’t even have written proof from her doctor that she was allowed carry it on her, since she had left in such a hurry.

“So… what happened to the face?” A heavyset, moustachioed guy in a blue uniform asked.

“I fell off the stairs, sir,” she answered dryly. It was a transparent, nonsense excuse, but after a deep sigh and an ‘alrighty then’ he decided to let it slip.

After performing the usual rituals to prove Marith Merryfield was indeed Marith Merryfield she was free to enter her nation of birth.

“Okay, here is your passport. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As soon as she hauled her suitcases from the luggage belt she called her father to let him know she had landed safely. Although he should have been underway by then he had made her promise to call. After the recent events he was getting careful with his oldest child.

“Hi, dad. Well, I’m here,” she said smiling. It may have been the first smile in days.

“Hi, Marith,” he scraped his throat. “How was your flight?”

She knew that tone and why was he asking about her flight if they were supposed to meet within minutes?

“Listen, Marith,” he continued, a little hesitant. “I am really sorry.”

“I know you are, dad.”

It was usually work. Marith didn’t even bother to ask any more. Her father meant well, but he could be scattered at times.

“Well, don’t worry. I sent Nick over to pick you up.”

Marith was almost at the sliding doors of the arrivals hall and stopped walking.

“What?” She asked breathless. “Why?” She added without waiting for an answer.

“He volunteered. You guys have met before. There’s no harm, right?”

“No,” she answered a little grumpy.

“Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” Marith mumbled, not sure if he even heard it.

A few fellow passengers walked past her and the doors slid open. It was quiet in the hall, but even if it had been busy Marith would not have had any trouble spotting Nick. No woman ever would have had a problem spotting Nick.

Nick and his dark blond head of superstar hair, his bright blue eyes and his weatherman smile made many female hearts beat faster. Marith’s too, even though she didn’t really fancy him. It was probably just a biological thing, she guessed.

The sturdy, young chief of Pine Industries stood there waving enthusiastically as soon as Marith entered the large, bright hallway. His energy was contagious. She remembered that much.

“There you are,” he said clumsily, staring at Marith a little uncertain, as she came closer.

She smiled at him and put her luggage down to greet him. It was customary in the Netherlands to kiss on the cheeks three times when meeting an old friend or a relative, but she could sense him wavering. After a few awkward moments he held her shoulders and softly kissed her once. Clearly he tried to spare her bruised face.

He was wearing a dark blue suit, without a tie, a white dress shirt, an expensive looking leather belt and Italian designer shoes that meticulously matched with the belt. It was obvious he had been working previously.

“Thank you so much for picking me up. I hope it is not too much of an inconvenience?”

“No! Not at all,” he practically yelled. “Anything for your dad! Let me get that for ya.”

He reached over for her suitcase and hand luggage.

“Sweet Lord, what is in here?”

“Books?”

Nick stared at her with wide eyes, baffled.

“We do have books in this country as well. You do know that, right?”

“Yes, yes, I do”, stammered Marith apologetic. “I just wasn’t sure… which ones… so…”

“So, you dragged all of them across two continents and an ocean,” Nick panted, while he dragged her belongings across the airport.

“I am sorry. I don’t even really know why I brought all this.”

She chuckled uncomfortable. It was an old habit of her to carry books with her everywhere she went, even though she hadn’t officially been enrolled in any classes for over a year now.

“I can carry my own purse,” she attempted to enlighten his burden.

“Of course,” he quickly handed it to her. Even though he was chronically single he knew about the holiness of a woman’s purse.

Usually Marith was glad when people talked a lot, because that meant she could talk less, without creating an awkward silence. Unfortunately, Marith and her cheerful companion had a more than two hour drive ahead and she hadn’t come up with a decent story yet. How could she? It was all too bizarre.

“So, what happened in the lowlands? Your dad told me something about a train accident?” He made a vague hand gesture.

Marith cringed. Exactly what she was afraid of.

“I haven’t completely been able to grasp it myself yet… the Universe decided to give me a monumental slap in the face. That’s for sure.”

Nick smiled. Marith looked frowning out the window.

“Speaking of my father…”

“He is busy with work,” Nick answered a little too hasty. He nodded to himself as if to add persuasiveness to his explanation.

Marith noticed him clenching the steering wheel while the car swept from the access to the far left lane of the highway in one smooth move. After that he relaxed and put the car in cruise control.

“Nice ride,” Marith felt obligated to say.

He seemed proud of it and she was trying to be polite by not ignoring the fact that Nick had a fast and shiny plaything that appeared to be brand new. Nick took grateful advantage of this opportunity to tell her all about the swiftness and general amazingness of his latest purchase.

As soon as they left the city behind them the scenery changed from civilization to wilderness fast. Marith didn’t hate this. As a matter of fact, she had always loved the chill and brisk forests of the Pacific North West. She had missed extensive, uninterrupted amounts of nature, living in an overcrowded part of Europe for so long.

As both a little girl and a young adult she could watch the trees flashing by for entire days and not be bothered by the rest of mankind. During those rides she could have daydreams that were so perfect they were destined to hurt in the end. At some point in her everyday fantasy world she would come to the inevitable realization that she had filled it up with everything that was missing in her own life and then it hit her that she carried an emptiness within her that only her mind could fill.

Not realising large amounts of people in Europe drive German cars Nick kept droning on about his new vehicle. Marith was not specifically interested in any type of car and she felt herself slipping away into deep pits of unconsciousness again. Apparently Nick’s energy wasn’t rubbing of on her this time. Her life seemed more hollow and pointless than ever. Luckily she fell asleep fast and didn’t wake up until the sun was setting.

The front seat heating welcomed her bruised body in a warm embrace. In the meantime grotesque and gruesome images marched through her mind. Although, they didn’t start that way.

Marith was soaring across unblemished heavens. Even though she was at a great altitude she could see what was happening on ground level with sharper vision than a satellite.

She was surrounded by crisp coldness, blue skies, warming sunshine, snow covered mountain-peaks and pine trees as far as her Eagle eyes allowed her to see. The experience could have been the embodiment of pure freedom, if it wasn’t for the ominous feeling that she was searching for something.

Hunting.

The matter appeared to be urgent too.

A young, lone swan far below her was amusing himself in Sweet Lake. He was drifting towards the woods. The gracious animal was unwittingly the direct object of an ongoing feud, mostly about turf. The swan had become bait.

Marith continued her effortless travels through the air. Her partner spiralled with her, patiently awaiting the right moment. They had learned a thing or two about the intruder that had been tormenting the area. Having the right timing had turned out to be crucial.

The swan noticed just a fraction of a second before they had. Naturally, because he was closer towards the predator. It happened too fast for human reflexes, but they had felt it, before they had seen it.

The pair of Eagles dove downward, like hailstones, towards the shadow in the trees. The swan peddled towards the centre of the lake with all its might, which was quite a bit, but not enough. So, it stretched its impressive wings and was airborne right before the claws emerged from the forest.

Marith and her companion had gained such velocity they felt like their wings were about to be torn off. Just when the forces of nature started to take their toll they landed on one of the most unnatural creatures that had ever entered their territory.

The male Eagle went for its claws first. As it turned out, there were four. Four manlike, and simultaneously more or less birdlike, paws were groping through the air, attempting to snatch and wound its assaulters.

Marith tackled his humongous, black wings with her razor sharp talons. She only managed to clasp one of them and yanked it downwards. There was a strategy here.

Her partner abandoned his first attempt and grabbed the other wing. They started to drag him down, towards the water.

At the touch of its leathery wings a new flush of images intruded her mind. Slimy things, sticky things. Intestines?

Images of talons and blood flashed before her eyes. Recently hatched ducks swimming in a blood stained pond. Big birds, little birds. Feathers ruffled, wings broken. Flamingo’s crushed on a red blotched beach. Massacre.

Strength was the other thing they had learned about this beast. Right above the water they had to let him go. They simply lacked power to end him by themselves. As their grip on the Birdman loosened he fought himself free and fled over the pebbles on the coast of the lake into the darkest corners of the woods with unparalleled speed.

The Eagles knew they could never accelerate like that between the greenery and sped heavenwards again. Circling above the village they spied through the vegetation. In the far, far distance an unnatural shadow moved with great swiftness towards Sound Lake. They had scared it off. For now. Unfortunately, they had learned he would be back.

During her life Marith had experienced moments of major clarity and moments of deep depression and mist. She had always felt too much, too often and had never learned the reason for the emptiness that was haunting her.

The moments of major clarity had often come right before big events. It was like a slider to an alternate reality stood ajar. As an adolescent she had figured out it hadn’t been another reality. She had seen snippets of the future of this reality. Not everything had turned out the way she had seen them happening through the slider, but when incidents were unravelling things often fell into place later. Those moments she could see bright and clear what was shown to her earlier, like the porthole was wide open and spotlights were on the players.

Along with the predictive visions had come nightmares, utmost horrifying images that felt real, especially when she was little, and could hunt her for months after. The adults in her life had known, up to a certain level, and had called it a blessing. Marith had never considered it a blessing nor a gift. She couldn’t filter. She couldn’t block one and welcome the other.

Her struggle had been troublesome and inert at times, but eventually she had won. The loss was that by oppressing her nightmares she had stifled the meaningful visions along and in the process she had inadvertently flattened her emotions even more so than before. Instead of experiencing occasional highs in between the lows things had mostly stayed low for her from that moment on.

Maybe that desolate part of her brain had been awakened by Pavan’s touch, so that now her old nightmares returned?

“Oh!” She woke up from her horrid dreams, hanging in her seatbelt, about five inches above the dashboard. As soon as the car came to a full stop she was slapped back in the car seat. Marith moaned. Her body was still very tender and far from ready to be catapulted.

“Sorry, about that,” she heard from her left, “the brakes are sharp.”

Marith gave him an annoyed look, but Nick was a person with a thick skin and was barely aware of her inconvenience. While drumming on the steering wheel with his hands, he stared at the traffic lights through the growing darkness.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Could have been better…” Marith muttered.

She gazed outside and noticed the sun setting through an abundance of trees and snow covered mountains, complemented by a lack of street lights and human presence in general.

“Where are we anyway?”

“Almost there, ma’am.” He put her seat upright with one of the many buttons on the touchscreen between their seats.

“Seriously? How far…?”

“Couple of minutes.”

“I am so sorry I slept through the entire ride,” she told Nick apologetically.

“It’s okay. I took some work calls.”

“No, it’s not. It’s very rude. It must have been those painkillers.” She touched her tender forehead, confused.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Still a little out of it, to be honest.”

The light jumped to green and Nick pulled up slowly. Apparently, he did realize he had to make up to some degree for earlier.

He made a left turn and drove towards the big, wooden welcome signs, placed on both sides of the road, lit by little lights on top of them. The plates said: “Sweet Lake, where the water forever glistens”. No doubt they were once placed there by what was now Nick’s company.

At the sight of the signs Marith was hit by a sudden bout of nostalgia. The ups, but mostly the downs of her past, came crashing in on her, like a piano falling from a tall building. Without warning the images from her nightmares came marching back into her mind, slashing through her head.

Cold sweat made her clothes stick to her hurt body, her windpipe closed the air off from her already struggling lungs and her stomach appeared to be squeezed and wrung by an invisible fist below her ribs.

“Stop the car.”

“What?”

“Stop. The. Car.” She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it.

Nick hit the brakes again and helped her with her seatbelt. Marith faltered out of the vehicle into the chilly afternoon. She hurried to one of the signs and threw up what little content had been floating around in her stomach.

Still leaning forward she wiped her mouth and wondered when was the last time she had vomited. She couldn’t remember. Very likely after some Christmas dinner her sister had prepared when they were still living under the same roof. At the thought of her sisters cooking her stomach kept retching, but nothing would come.

“Are you sick of me this fast?” Nick asked boisterous, with a slightly worried undertone, when she stumbled back to the car.

He paused his wanton ways to examine her crumpled, pale face when she took place in the seat next to him again. “That accident got you good, didn’t it?”

Marith wasn’t sure she could answer without the dry-heaves returning, so she tried to contain her nausea by closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh mountain air and not paying attention to Nick.

“Thanks for not throwing up inside,” he added softly.

“You got it,” she whispered back.

He padded her knee and after an affirmative nod they continued the final part of their travels. Unaware she was about to learn that they would be spending a lot more time together than just the car ride.

The village was situated in a mountainous area next to similarly named lake. The lake was neither a glacial lake nor a volcanic crater filled with water. Legend says Sweet Lake was formed by the impact of a meteor that had hit Earth in an ancient past. The much smaller Sound Lake, also called Swan Lake, on account of the many mute swans residing there, was supposedly created during that same celestial event. Then there was Spectre Lake, a mid-sized crater formed by rocks from that meteor shower as well, completing the tri-lake area.

Surprisingly, none of these stones from outer space had ever been found. This didn’t stop the locals from celebrating this celestial event anyway once every decade or whenever the mood for a party would strike.

The inhabitants of the area would usually celebrate any meteor shower. Even the ones that didn’t have much to do with the three local lakes, except for the fact that they were all, in essence, space rocks passing by. Also, the height at which the tri-lake area was located provided a great platform to gaze at the stars. Last, but certainly not least, the event would generate some tourism and, with that, extra income.

In the distance Marith could see how the setting sun coloured Sweet Lake’s surface every shade of orange. The jetties were laying in the reflective water like runways on an airport.

They were quickly embraced by large trees, standing alongside the wide avenues, and the lake was hidden from view. The authentic centre of the town was now on their right side and the lake still ahead of them.

Nick took quite an unusual route. The direct way to the Merryfield residence, situated at the water front, would have required a left turn. With a twisted sensation in her stomach Marith shot a bewildered look at Nick after he didn’t make any turn.

He just kept driving straight ahead through thickening forest. Marith peeked outside, but didn’t register any signs of a roadblock or a changed traffic situation.

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“My Dad’s that way.” She made a hesitant gesture to their missed left turn.

“Didn’t your old man tell ya?” He asked, while continuing to drive in the wrong direction. They were getting separated farther and farther away from the house at the lake.

Marith sighed, frowned and made a dazzled face. Nick once again, stared at her, concerned.

“Are you forgetting things?”

“NO,” she answered indignant.

She had in fact suffered amnesia form the accident, but she wasn’t going to get into that right now.

“Okay, well, you’re staying with me.”

“What? Why?!”

This perfectly completed the chaos Marith had been living through in the past few days.

“No,” she finally added. “Why?” she asked again.

“Okay, calm down,” he made a soothing hand gesture that didn’t change anything. “It’s no big deal. Your dad has decided that the house at the lake was getting too big for him and he decided to rent it out. So, now you’re staying with me.”

“Oh.” Marith genuinely didn’t know what to say to that. A stupefied silence followed.

“He probably didn’t tell you, because you had other stuff to worry about.”

The stupefied silence continued.

“He is staying in an apartment at the Bellevue.”

Marith took a deep breath. Why did she even come back then?

It seemed like all the cropped up and restrained sadness tried to escape her body at once. She wanted to cry. Hard. Until she could cry no more. An explosion was building up inside her, but she couldn’t let it out. She had been emotionally defective for too long.

Instead, nature did what she couldn’t muster. It slowly started to rain, doleful and merciful.