Dreamer Awakened

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

 

            Kusanagi opened the window of his apartment and climbed through.  Usually, he would come in like any other person - any normal person – to avoid any awkward questions.  But he was in too much of a foul mood to care if anyone saw him or not.  He slid his legs across the casement, slammed the window shut and without turning on any of the lights, crossed the room to his bed.  He slumped across it, putting his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

            “I’m leaving,” Momiji had said.  Kusanagi’s lips curled into a bitter smile.  How ironic, he thought, rolling on to his side, his eyes wandering around the darkened room.  Everything was as neat as usual.  Not an ounce of dust anywhere, he thought idly, but since he had no personal mementoes for dust to cling to, it really wasn’t all that surprising.  It was like he had never been gone.  Or like he had never lived here at all. 

He could have walked away from this place forever and never have missed a thing. Except for his camera, his portfolio and – leaning over the edge of his bed, he reached underneath it to pull out a square, leather box – this.  Actually, he admitted reluctantly to himself, he could have left his camera and his portfolio behind because those could easily be replaced.  But not this, he thought.  With one arm he pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling the box closer and taking the lid off.

            “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me anymore.”

As he sifted through the contents of the box, he could still picture the honesty shining so earnestly from her eyes when she had uttered those words.  If she only knew, he thought derisively, as he finally found what he was looking for and stared down at it with haunted eyes.         She was right about his feeling obligated, though.  She probably even knew that it was obligation that had driven him away.  But the reason behind the obligation, and why he had been forced to flee - for there was no getting around the fact that he had been running away – of that, she had no clue.  She thought he felt an obligation to protect her.  He knew that only too well.  And he let her believe it, for it was better to let her believe it.  But the truth was, from the moment she had stepped in front of Orochi to take the blow meant for Kusanagi, a man she hadn’t known, and a man who had wanted nothing more than her death, he had known that he would protect her with everything he was.  Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.  To him that wasn’t an obligation.  Not even close. The obligation he felt lay in the need to protect Momiji from himself. 

Kusanagi knew that he was too different to ever be a real part of her life, that by his very existence, he was a freak of nature; only half-human.  And so he felt obligated to distance himself from her.  But the number of times he had promised himself that he would stop seeing her was eclipsed by the number of times he had given in to his desire just to be near her, whether she was aware of his presence of not.  And because of that, he had run away, thinking that perhaps distance would make it easier to maintain his obligation.  Yet here he was back in Tokyo.

Agitation drove Kusanagi from the bed to prowl restlessly around the room, until he reached the window where he came to a standstill staring with anger and hatred at the image of the face that was reflected back at him. 

There was nothing normal about his appearance.  Cat-like eyes set below four eyebrows that were dark green, the same color as his hair, and skin that had a dark bronze cast to it – orange­ was a better description, he thought critically.  And the mitamas, he reminded himself, not that he could ever forget about the mitamas.  The curse of his existence, and yet they defined who he was.  If not for them, he would be human.  If not for them, he would feel no obligation to stay away.

“I want you to feel free…” 

Momiji’s final words mocked him.  Kusanagi put his long fingers over his eyes and rubbed, feeling insane laughter bubble to the surface.  He wanted to be free too, for even shackled as he was by the blue seeds that had shaped his life, he was finding it harder and harder to resist his fascination with her, making his life a living hell.

He should be glad she was going, he told himself.   He should feel relieved that she had taken the burden of temptation away by leaving.  But he didn’t feel that way at all…

 

Momiji stared out of the back window of Mr. Kunikida’s sedan.  It was a perfect day.  The sun was shining, the winter sky, a pale blue, and even the temperature was considerably mild for January.  The ideal day for a move.  But it would be more appropriate, or so Momiji thought, if it were raining hellfire and brimstone.  The end of the world;, a drastic thought, but that’s what it felt like to her.

After Kusanagi had left last night, she had gone upstairs, unable to sleep for the hard knot of misery that had settled in the middle of her chest, as their final scene replayed over and over again in her mind.  Momiji listened with half an ear to Ryoko talking in low accents to her husband and tried to get a grip on her emotions.  She would always love Kusanagi, was going to miss him terribly, but she was going to have to stop wallowing in self-pity and get on with her life, she told herself.  Kusanagi deserved to be free, and she had set him free.  That was what was important!

“You know, you don’t have to do this, Momiji,”  Mr. Kunikida said abruptly, breaking into Momiji’s thoughts.

Momiji met his gaze through the rear view mirror and replied quietly,  “I know, but it’s time for me to go back.”

“You’re too young to be living on your own!” he replied grumpily.

“Daitetsu!” Ryoko cast Momiji an apologetic look, “Momiji is an adult now.”

“Nineteen is NOT an adult,” he ground out.

“Daitetsu!” Ryoko admonished, “stop it!”

Mr. Kunikida’s ruddy cheeks flooded with temper, making him look decidedly ferocious as he muttered heavily under his breath, and Momiji gave Ryoko a look of understanding.  Kaede had been his daughter, and she occupied a special place in Mr. Kunikida’s heart, but then, so did Momiji, and she knew that he would always feel a paternal protectiveness towards her.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Kunikada finally managed, “forgive me, Momiji.  I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t a capable young lady.  It’s just…”   He seemed to be struggling to find the right words so Momiji tried to reassure him.

“It’s okay, Mr. Kunikida, I understand.  And I know that you believe in me.  It was you, after all, who gave me the opportunity to work with you and all the others at the TAC.  If you hadn’t believed in me, then I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

Ryoko smiled gratefully at Momiji, knowing how testy her husband could get.

Mr. Kunikida didn’t say anything for a few minutes and so the car fell silent, but he eventually addressed Momiji again, his tone less grumpy but gruff nonetheless.

“You know that we – Ryoko and I - love you, Momiji,” he waited for her nod and then continued, “and we just want you to know that we’ll always be here for you if you need us.  You’ll always have a home with us.”

“You and Ryoko have done so much for me,” Momiji responded with difficulty, her voice trembling with suppressed emotions, “and I love you guys too, but –“ she stopped unable to go on and looked out the window, swallowing back the tears.

Ryoko looked over at her husband, distressed.  “This is so hard for her,” she murmured  so Momiji couldnt hear.  “I don’t understand what happened between her and Kusanagi, but. – well, let’s not make this any harder for her than it already is.” 

 Daitetsu nodded.

“I talked to your mother yesterday before we left for Hokkaido,” Mr. Kunikida remarked, bowing to his wife’s wishes by changing the subject.  “She said that the restoration of the cave is almost finished.”

“Really?” Momiji was proud at how normal she managed to sound.  “I didn’t think that they would be able to restore it so quickly.”

Actually, she had thought that it couldn’t be restored at all.  After Susano-oh’s last ritual, it had caved in completely and no one had attempted to clear the debris.  But once she had started talking about returning to Izumo to begin studying the Kushinada, Ms. Matsudaira had suggested that she might want to take up her ritual of purification again, to see what affects it might have on her biologically.

“Yes,” Mr. Kunikida responded, “the workman that we hired have worked round the clock to have it ready for your return.”

Momiji’s face turned red  “You make it sound like they’re expecting royalty,” she laughed.

“Well,” Ryoko said, winking at her, “you are royalty.  You’re the Princess Kushinada!”

“But the aragami are all sleeping,” except for Kusanagi, “so I think that title is wearing a little thin now, don’t you?”

“Never!” Ryoko teased.  “I think you should put it on all your business cards, don’t you, Daitetsu.”

Mr Kunikida just grunted while Ryoko and Momiji laughed.

“By the way, what were you guys doing in Hokkaido yesterday.  You never did tell me why you went,” Momiji observed and was immediately struck by the change that came over Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko as they exchanged an uneasy glance.

“It wasn’t really anything too important.  Some local officials in Sappora have had a string of rabid animal attacks,” Ryoko replied, choosing her words carefully, “and since we have such an extensive database, they wanted our professional opinion as to what type of animal it was so they could issue an alert to the local townspeople.”  As she finished speaking she slid a questioning glance over to Daitetsu who gave a slight nod of approval.

Momiji appeared to accept the explanation without further question and the conversation moved on.  Not long after that, they pulled up in front of a small house just purchased a few weeks ago.  This was to be Momiji’s new home as she resumed her life in Izumo. 

Moe, Momiji’s mother was standing with Momiji’s grandmother by the trunk of a little silver car parked in the drive.  They waved as Mr. Kunikida’s sedan pulled into the drive.

“I didn’t know you had gotten a new car, Mom,” Momiji said as she gave her mother and grandmother a hug in greeting.

“I didn’t,” Moe responded and then turned to Mr. Kunikida and handed him a set of keys.  “They delivered it this morning, just like you wanted.”

Momiji looked from her mother to Mr. Kunikida in confusion. “This is your car?”

Mr. Kunikida shook his head and walked over to Momiji and handed her the keys.  “No.  It’s yours.”

Everyone was smiling at her, waiting for her to say something, but Momiji just stared at Mr. Kunikida completely dumbfounded.  She stayed silent so long that Moe began to wonder if she hadn’t understood what Mr. Kunikida had said.

“Momiji?” her mother said uncertainly.

Momiji didn’t appear to hear her. Instead she threw herself at Mr. Kunikida, who looked surprised, and hugged him tightly.  He hugged her back just as tightly.

“So you can come and see us anytime you want,” was all he said when Momiji tried to thank him. 

Mr. Kunikida helped Momiji unload the rest of her things from his car, which wasn’t a lot, since most of her belongings had already been brought down the weekend before.  They spent the rest of the afternoon together talking about different things but nothing truly important before Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko returned to Tokyo.  It wasn’t an easy goodbye for anyone, but it was made easier by the fact that Momiji knew she could now go see them anytime she felt like it. 

After they were gone, Moe offered to stay and help Momiji unpack some of her boxes.  Momiji thanked her, but declined.  She wanted to do it herself.  It would keep her busy and wouldn’t allow her much time to think of Kusanagi. 

The next two weeks that followed were busy ones for Momiji, but she learned early on that no matter how busy she was, Kusanagi was still in her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to squeeze him out.  It didn’t help matters either that the first time she had met Akiko, her old school friend, for lunch, her first question had been about Kusanagi.  Momiji had given her some vague response, not wanting to tell her the truth, which had been a mistake, because Akiko kept bringing him up.

Ms. Matsudaira, too, had seemed intent on reminding Momiji of Kusanagi when she had arrived for her first official visit, just yesterday.

“So have you heard from Kusanagi yet? “ Ms. Matsudaira had asked her.

“No,” Momiji had replied edgily, wanting the topic to end.

“That’s strange.  I could have sworn that Midori told me – “ Matsu had muttered, and then waved it off, “never mind.”

But now Momiji was burning to know what Midori had told Matsu about Kusanagi

“What?  What did Midori tell you?”  Momiji demanded, all of her attention focused on Matsu.

Matsu turned away and hid a smile.

 “It’s just that Midori mentioned to me that Kusanagi had been by to see her several times over the last couple of weeks.  He even took her home one evening.”

“He did?” Momiji’s eyebrows had risen in alarm, and even now her stomach knotted up just thinking about it.

Midori and Kusanagi?  Oh, god, the thought of them together would kill her!  Momiji shifted restlessly, and tried to push her disturbing thoughts away and concentrate on what she was doing.

She was at the iwatto making a survey for Ms. Matsudaira and she still had to get the rock and water samples that Ms. Matsudaira had wanted analyzed.  Momiji looked at her watch.  It was getting late and she had promised her mother that she would have dinner with her tonight.  If she didn’t get her mind on what she was doing she wasn’t going to have enough time to go home and change beforehand.

Momiji kneeled down, the damp stone immediately chilling her knees, and opened the metal case she had brought with her.  Taking out several vials, Momiji went over to the still water of the pool, and, working quickly, drew up several samples from different points, labeling them according to where they had been drawn.  The rock samples were a little more time consuming requiring her to use a sharp pick.  After a bit of hard work, though, she was able to chisel out four or five different samples, again from different areas.   Putting the samples back in the case, she closed it and climbed the steps to the entrance of the iwatto.

Momiji stepped out into the daylight, and a chill of foreboding swept through her.  It was so strong that she stopped and looked around, almost expecting to see something out of place.  The wind suddenly picked up.  It swirled around her, cutting into her cheeks and blowing her hair into her eyes, momentarily blinding her.  Momiji hurriedly pushed the long strands aside to scan the line of barren trees, looking for whatever it was she had sensed.  

Her eyes told her there was nothing.  All was silent, and even the wind had ceased, but still she felt it, unable to ignore the heaviness of its presence pressing in on her.

Momiji tightened her hand on the handle of the metal case and set off down the path through the trees, her green eyes focused on the path around her, looking for any sign of movement. 

The afternoon had become overcast, and the gloom of the clouds and the coming evening settled around her making her wish that she hadn’t spent so much time in the iwatto.  Momiji quickened her steps, wanting to reach her car as soon as she could.

And then she heard it and her head snapped around.

“Ku – shi - nada.”

Momiji stopped moving, her green eyes widening as she strained to hear, but there was nothing but the sound of her fast breathing.  A fine mist started to fall, hanging in the air around her like an ephemeral wraith and Momiji turned to look back up at the mouth of the cave, now enshrouded eerily in white.  She didn’t know what she’d expected to see, but there was no one there.  The feeling of foreboding was gone now, too, except for the memory of it, which served as a shadow that followed Momiji all the way down the path to her car. 

For once, Kusanagi was pushed completely from Momiji’s mind.  She mulled over what had happened at the iwatto as she dropped the samples off at the lab and drove home.  By the time she had pulled up in front of her house, she had convinced herself that it had been her overactive imagination hard at work.  After all, this was the first time she had returned to the iwatto since Susano-oh had gone to sleep, and she had witnessed so much happen there, that it seemed only natural she would feel a little odd seeing it again.  She was sure that the next time she went, that it would be completely different.

There was a message for Momiji on her answering machine when she got in.  She took off her coat and flung it over the sofa as she pushed the button to listen to the message and  felt her heart flop into her shoes.

“Hi, Momiji!  It’s me, Midori,” piped the message, “I’ve been meaning to call you, but they have had me working really late at the lab.  Listen… I really need to talk to you about Kusanagi.  It’s kinda’ important, so call me as soon as you can, okay?”

The machine beeped signaling the end of the message, and Momiji stood watching its little red light blink.  With a deep breath she picked up the phone and then quickly put it down again, biting her lip in indecision.  Could she really do this?  She felt sure that Midori was going to tell her that Kusanagi had asked her out and Midori was calling to ask what she should do.  Should she tell her that it was okay?  That Midori should go out with him?  Could she tell Midori that it was okay? 

Not likely!  Kusanagi was hers!

But you relinquished your claim to him, didn’t you?, a little voice reminded her.

“Kusanagi,” she mumbled peevishly, “I wanted you to be free – but couldn’t you at least be girl free, too?”

At least until she got used to the idea of him being with someone else, anyway - which would be never, of course.  Momiji hovered near the phone for a moment longer and then she stepped back. 

Coward! her conscience screamed, but she just ignored it.

Turning on her heel, she climbed the stairs to change her clothes for dinner.  She would call Midori when she got back from her mom’s house, she told herself.  As she pulled on her sweatshirt, still thinking about Midori’s phone call, she forced herself to be more optimistic.  Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was, she reasoned, and if it was… Well, at least this way it wouldn’t spoil her dinner.

 

“Where’s Grandma?”  Momiji asked as she and her mother sat down to eat.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she decided to go to bed early.”

Momiji’s brow wrinkled in concern and she made to get up from the table.  “Maybe I should go and check on her. I could bring her some soup or something.”

Moe put out a staying hand and Momiji reluctantly sat back down.  “She’s already eaten,”  Moe told her, “and besides, you’ll just wake her up.  It’s this weather.  The damp always makes her bones ache.”

Momiji nodded and they resumed eating, Moe watching as Momiji mostly just pushed her food around her plate.  Momiji helped her mother with the dishes and then they went into the living room and sat down.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight, Momiji.”

“I have?” Momiji responded, not that she didn’t already know it, but thinking that if she played ignorant, she might avoid a lot of unwanted questions.

“Where’s Kusanagi?”

Leave to Mom to cut right to the heart of the matter, Momiji thought , wincing.

“Ummm.  I guess he’s in Tokyo.” Momiji responded evasively, leaning forward and flipping open the picture album sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

“I would have thought I would have seen him by now.  He never seems to be very far away from wherever you are.”  Her mother commented watching her closely.

Momiji snorted, a heavy frown settling across her face, and thought about the last three months of her life. 

“He left, Mom,”  Momiji said flatly, her green eyes flashing, “for three months.  Without a word.  He just vanished.”  Momiji kept flipping through the picture album staring down at the glossy images of familiar people and places, wondering how many more times she was going have to tell this story.

“That’s why I decided to come home.”  The fire in her eyes suddenly died out.  “It hurt too much to stay knowing that all he wanted was to get away from me. Besides,” she continued woodenly, “he never really showed that much interest in me anyway.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”  Moe asked, incredulously.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” Momiji demanded, her voice rising an octave,  “he wouldn’t even kiss me, Mom!” 

Momiji’s face burned bright red, feeling embarrassed about sharing with her mother the sordid details, or in her case, the lack of sordid details surrounding her love life.

“And those are your reasons for believing that he wasn’t interested in you?” 

Moe pulled the album from the table away from Momiji and settled it onto her lap. She began turning the pages while she waited for Momiji to answer her.

Momiji stared at her mother like she had lobsters crawling out of her ears.  “What more proof do I need, Mom?  He never gave me any indication to believe otherwise.”

‘Ahhh, but I believe he did, Momiji.  You just have to open your eyes to see it.”

As she spoke, Moe handed the photo album to Momiji. 

She pointed to a picture that Momiji had never seen before, even though Momiji recognized the setting clearly.  It was a picture from last year’s New Year’s Eve celebration at a downtown Tokyo hotel.  Everyone from the TAC had been there as well as a few others, including Kusanagi and her mother.  Momiji remembered the evening very clearly, recalling how painstakingly she had prepared for the party, wanting desperately to see Kusanagi look at her with something other than his usual friendly detachment. 

She had gone shopping weeks in advance just to find the right clothes, and found what she had been looking for in an expensive little boutique.  It was an off the shoulder emerald green velvet dress.  Momiji had thought that the color had enhanced the green of her eyes and brought out the rich color of her hair, so she had paid the hefty asking price without blinking, thinking that if it could help her get Kusanagi’s attention, it would be well worth the money she had paid for it.

She had had such high hopes, taking several hours to get ready for the evening.  She had even gone so far as to jab into her skull one hundred and one hair pins just to achieve the right hairstyle.  And then Kusanagi had called and said that his bike wasn’t working and he couldn’t come to pick her up but would meet her there.  So she had arrived at the hotel with Ryoko and Mr. Kunikida and had waited for Kusanagi. 

The evening was half over before Kusanagi had arrived, but still she hadn’t given up, hoping, as she had watched him cross the room, that when he finally saw her, she would see a spark of interest in his eyes.

But, alas, he had said nothing, had barely even looked at her and she had been devastated.  Feeling the tears close to the surface, Momiji had fled out onto the balcony to look out over the city, while Kusanagi leaned against the door, half in, half out of the room, not really paying much attention to anything.  Or at least that was how she remembered it. But that was not what this picture showed.

This was a picture of that very event, in the background Momiji leaning against the balcony, her shoulders gleaming white from the flash of the camera, and in the foreground Kusanagi, but a very different Kusanagi than the one she remembered.

As Momiji gazed at the picture, she felt her heart turn over in her chest at the look on Kusanagi’s face.  In this picture, he wasn’t just gazing idly about like she thought he had been  He was watching her.  His face had such an intensity to it.  What was it that she was seeing?  Longing? Wistfulness?  Sorrow?  Momiji wasn’t sure how to describe it, but she was sure of one thing.  His expression as he gazed at her was far from being indifferent.

Matsu’s words came back to her as she stared down at Kusanagi’s face.  “I’ve seen the way Kusanagi looks at you sometimes…”

Is this what Matsu meant?  This expression?  And if it was, how come Momiji had never seen it for herself? 

Momiji looked up at her mother, feeling helpless and confused.  “But why?  If this is…  why would he go away?”

“Sometimes, things are not as simple as we would like for them to be, Momiji.  Kusanagi is not a simple man, but I think that in the end, he will always come back to you.”

Momiji put her hand to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut.  Her thoughts were crowding in one on top of another and she couldn’t think.  Feeling suddenly tired and emotionally spent, she wanted to go home.  No.  What she really wanted was to go back to Tokyo, to see Kusanagi.  But she couldn’t.  He had shut her out completely when she had told him she was leaving and now she was afraid to go back.  Afraid to find out that the picture she held in her hand was just an illusion and that the truth was that he didn’t want her anymore.

Moe watched the myriad of emotions flitting across Momiji’s face and wasn’t surprised when, a few minutes later Momiji made her excuses and left to go home.  Momiji kissed her mother goodbye and bundled up in her coat. 

The rain was coming down in earnest now, and Momiji squinted, straining to see through the veil of water cascading down the windshield.  How she hated driving in the rain! 

 

It was waiting.  There, in the darkness.  He could feel it.  He knew of its hunger and knew that he had no choice but to try and stop it.  He had been watching it since its birth, watched it when it had died and then witnessed its subsequent rebirth into something fouler than it had been before.

It was cold, unused to the rain, but its hunger would not be denied and so it persisted in its vigil, determined not to fail this time.  It had stalked her earlier and he had been unaware until it was almost too late.  But still he had managed to stop it, driving it away in fright.

He had known that it would return, though.  He knew that it sensed the great energy that flowed from its prey and he knew that fear alone was not enough to drive it away completely.  It would not be long now, so he moved closer.  He must be close enough to draw blood this time, so that it would find a different hunting ground.

He knew that it would die if he allowed it its kill.  Its instincts were unable to comprehend the power that it craved was also a power to protect, and in striking, it would fall victim to its own hunger. 

And as much as he wished to see it die, he would stop it, for its quarry was irreplaceable. But he must do something more than even this, for he knew that it would grow in power with each new victim and his own power was limited in his current state.  Yes, he thought, he needed to put his plan into action.  Soon the dreamer would awaken and he needed to ensure the dreamer’s safety. 

Looking into the darkness, he waited, just as it waited, knowing that she was the key to protecting the dreamer.  He had called upon her before and had laid a heavy burden upon her.  And now he would do so again, but he knew that she was strong.  He would be counting on that strength and the strength of her protector as well, for without them, their worlds would perish, laid to waste by the evil that had been reborn.

 

Momiji was half way home when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.  She was being watched.  She could feel it. 

That’s impossible, she argued with herself.  There weren’t any cars behind her, and only occasionally did she see the glare of headlights from cars passing her, going in the opposite direction. 

But the sensation wouldn’t be ignored.  In fact it was getting stronger with every passing moment, and Momiji felt the panic begin to rise.  She thought about turning around and going back to her mother’s house but screamed instead as a bolt of energy shot across the road.  It illuminated everything around it with its bright blue hue as it streaked from one side of the road to the other.  Momiji heard what sounded like the roar of thunder and from the corner of her eye, she saw something massive streaking away from the light, retreating into the darkness of the sheltering trees. 

The road in front of her glowed blue, and as her car steadily approached it, the light, instead of dispersing, began to retract, the edges folding in on itself until the center of it was so bright it hurt her eyes. From the center of the light a darker mass was born, coalescing into the figure of a man dressed in priest’s robes wearing an eboshi pulled low over his face.

He appeared so quickly, that Momiji had little time to react.  She slammed on her brakes to avoid hitting him and her car skidded wildly into the other lane where the bright headlights of an oncoming car blinded her. 

Momiji screamed as the car swerved, and she missed colliding with it as her car continued skidding sideways until she was off the road. 

Dimly she heard the crunch of metal as her car collided with a tree, and she was thrown forward.  The rusty taste of blood filled her mouth and it felt like someone was squeezing all the air out of her lungs.  Her body was on fire and Momiji struggled to breathe, but could hardly seem to draw in any air.  The bright light she had seen earlier surrounded her and Momiji tried to focus on its source.  With great effort she managed to turn her head and saw the priest quietly standing next to her car door, looking down at her from beneath the eboshi

No!  Her mind shouted in denial.  This couldn’t be happening! 

Still she couldn’t breathe, and she felt the blood trickle from her mouth and down her chin.  I am going to die, she thought, dimly aware that the priest had stepped closer to the car and had opened the door.  The pain in her body intensified, her vision clouding over as the priest’s hand reached for her and she lost consciousness. 

 

The man was tired.  His meeting had run late, and now he just wanted to be home with his wife and family.  He ran a hand through his hair, his whole body drooping with fatigue and then stiffened as the headlights of his car picked out the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the other lane.

“What the hell!?!” he cursed as he slammed on his breaks and swerved to miss the little car that had veered onto his side of the road to avoid hitting the pedestrian.  He managed to keep his car on the road, but watched in horror as the little grey car was smashed into a twisted heap of metal as it collided with a towering oak tree. 

He slammed his car in reverse and went back, pulling to the side of the road near the accident and saw the pedestrian, a priest wearing a straw hat, with his back to him, bent down staring at the driver of the car.  He quickly opened his door and slogged over to the priest.

“What the hell were you doing standing in the middle of the road?” he yelled disrespectfully, and then “hey, mister, I’m talking to you!” when the priest didn’t turn around, instead choosing to open the car door.

Still fuming, the man turned his attention to the driver of the little grey car and blanched.  It was a young girl.  The lower half of her face was covered in blood and she was struggling to breathe.  To his eyes, it looked like she wasn’t going to make it.

“Man, she looks pretty bad,” he said quietly to the priest, his anger forgotten. “I’d better get my phone and call for help.”

He hurried back to his car and found his cell phone beneath the pile of briefs he’d thrown onto the passenger’s seat.  Hastily he punched in some numbers and reported the accident and then rummaged around in the back seat for the towel he usually kept there.  Finding it, he straightened up and looked around.

The priest was gone. 

The man looked up and down the road as he made his way back to the crumpled car, but didn’t see him anywhere.  The car door was still open, and the man bent down to see what he could do to help the girl until the ambulance arrived. 

“What the hell?!” he said for the second time, taking a step backwards. 

The girl was unconscious, but the blood was gone, and she appeared to be breathing comfortably.  He looked up and down the road again, looking for the mysterious priest, a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.