Bone Deep, page 2
part #2 of The Legend of Andrew Rufus Series
He sat by the low burning fire and ran through all the dreams he'd had about Pecos since he'd returned. The first dream had been awful. He'd been so excited to see Pecos, thinking he'd finally been sent back, but Pecos hadn't known him. How could he? He'd never seen him.
The second Andrew had showed up, Pecos had barked "Who the hell are you?"
Andrew had known instantly it was Pecos. The voice, the growl, the ridiculously long legs. "It's me; Andrew!" he'd explained excitedly.
"Again?! What the hell you doin' here?"
That hadn't been quite the response Andrew had expected, but it was stupid to have thought Pecos would miss him just because he missed Pecos. "I don't know," Andrew had said quietly. "But at least I'm not inside your head this time."
"Don't want you here at all," Pecos had growled.
Andrew had blinked furiously, trying to hold back his tears. The last thing he wanted was to look like a sissy in front of Pecos. Fortunately, his alarm clock had sounded at that exact moment, waking him. He'd been relieved when he realized it had only been a dream, but the hurt was still there, the knowledge that if he ever did go back, Pecos wouldn't be glad to see him.
And why would he? He didn't know Andrew, not really. Andrew frowned thinking that wasn't totally true. Pecos probably knew more about Andrew than most people did, but still. Andrew had only been there for two weeks, and he'd been running Pecos's body, which Pecos had hated. And who could blame him? It would be like if one of the math nerds took over Andrew's body in the middle of the season. Andrew could see himself cringing as the math nerd tried to pitch. Just like Pecos had cringed when Andrew had tried to rope.
He had to face it. He wasn't special. He wasn't impressive. He was just plain, old Andrew. He was so plain and ordinary and nothing that his own dad didn't even want him, didn't miss him, didn't care to spend time with him. Why would Pecos?
Andrew sighed deeply, wishing he could just forget about it and go back to being friends with Chuck and Ed, go back to playing baseball. He closed his eyes and imagined throwing a winning pitch. The fans cheered, but in the background, behind the stands, a black cloud with sharp teeth hovered. Waiting. Hungry. Andrew clenched his teeth with determination. He didn't know why. He didn't know how. But he had to go back. For some reason. There was something he had to do.
He shook his head in frustration, feeling totally stupid. Maybe he just wanted to go back so he'd feel like he was important to someone, somewhere, or feel like he mattered, because he certainly didn't matter here.
He tucked his pillow under his head, stared at the dim stars, and fell asleep. He dreamed dust devils attacked the camp site. Andrew tried to stop them, he really did, but he wasn't Pecos. They stripped the flesh from everyone until he was the only one left. He screamed in agony as they tore into him again and again and again.
He woke to the smell of coffee, hoping for just a second, but he realized right away it wasn't Doyle's.
"You okay, Andrew?" Mr. Colburn asked, pouring himself a steaming cup.
Andrew wished he could have just one cup, just one. He forced a smile to his lips and said, "Yeah, just didn't want another black eye."
Mr. Colburn chuckled. "Probably a good idea. You boys going fishing today?"
Andrew shrugged. "Sure."
"Pancakes?"
"I'll get the pan," Andrew said, standing. He was glad the night was over but annoyed he had to spend the day with Chuck.
After breakfast they walked to the lake in silence, but once they got there, Chuck started in. "I'm surprised you could leave your precious library long enough to go camping, or did your mommy make you?"
Andrew ignored him, baiting a hook and casting his line into the water.
"Everyone feels sorry for poor, little Andrew because his dad took off and left him all alone."
Ed, who rarely crossed his brother, spoke up, "Knock it off, Chuck. We're here to have fun."
"Is poor, little Andrew not having fun?"
Andrew ground his teeth. He wondered if it would be satisfying to punch Chuck in his big, fat mouth, but he didn't want to. They'd been friends for so long; couldn't Chuck just let it go?
A movement on the other shore caught Andrew's eyes, and he struggled to bring it into focus. He couldn't be sure but he thought there were several ravens in a tree. He frowned, trying to make them out. One was flapping like crazy, but the others were motionless, surrounding it like statues.
Andrew reeled in his line. "I'll be back," he said absently, dropping his pole on the ground.
"Where you going? Can't handle a little teasing? You're such a sissy, momma's boy!"
Andrew paused, wanting so badly to punch Chuck just a little, but he shook it off and walked away.
It took him a while to circle the lake, but when he got to the other side, the birds were still there, which didn't make a lot of sense to him. He'd never seen a raven stay in one place for so long.
He watched from a distance for several minutes before he realized the flapping bird was stuck. Its foot had gotten tangled in fishing line, and it was flopping and tearing, trying to break free. The other birds couldn't help, but they wouldn't leave the tangled bird behind.
Anger flooded Andrew. Is it so hard to pick up your damn fishing line? he thought. Even Chuck picks up his line, and he's an ass.
Andrew walked forward several feet, trying to decide what to do. The bird was stuck in the top of a dead tree, and the tree didn't look stable enough to climb, not to mention the fact he'd sworn to never climb another tree for as long as he lived. But he couldn't leave it hanging like that. Ravens had saved his life; he had to try to save this one.
"Hi guys," he said softly, stepping closer and closer. "I'd like to help your brother bird if you don't mind." He felt a whisper of unease as he realized how big their beaks were. And their claws. Ravens were really much bigger than he'd remembered. What if they attacked him?
"I don't wanna hurt you," he added, feeling silly and wondering how Charlie talked to animals. It certainly wasn't like this.
"I'm just gonna climb this tree here and cut him down, okay?" All the ravens stared at him, black eyes wide and unblinking. Andrew was sure one of them nodded; then they opened their wings and flew into the sky, landing in a tree several hundred feet away.
Andrew looked the dead tree over. There really wasn't any safe way to climb it. He'd just have to give it a go and see what happened. Terrible plan, but exactly what Pecos would do. He grabbed the lowest branch, wishing he had a little more practice, hoping he didn't break another leg or his neck, and started climbing. The tree wiggled unsteadily, and Andrew realized he wasn't going to be able to make it all the way to the bird. He climbed as high as he could and stretched his hand out, just barely managing to wrap two fingers around the branch the bird was hung up on.
He struggled to maintain his precarious perch while pulling on the branch, trying to break it. It suddenly snapped, and both he and the bird tumbled to the ground. Andrew landed on his back with a loud thud, but he knew right away he wasn't hurt. He scrambled to his knees and looked for the bird. It was lying motionless beside him.
"I'm sorry," Andrew gasped. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
"What; you talk to animals now?" Chuck's voice rang out.
Andrew cringed. He'd been so focused on the ravens he hadn't realized Chuck and Ed had followed him. He ignored Chuck and carefully picked up the enormous bird. He couldn't believe how soft its feathers were. He'd never touched a bird in his life, and he hadn't known how light they were and how beautiful up close. The sun glinted on the raven's feathers making all the colors of the rainbow. Its eyes snapped open, and it gazed at Andrew, holding itself completely still.
"Don't worry," Andrew whispered. "I'll get you out of this mess."
"What're you doing?" Ed asked.
"This raven got caught in some fishing line."
"That sucks."
"Circle of life," Chuck snorted. "Let the bears have him."
"Get outta here!" Andrew snarled, suddenly fiercely protective of the raven he held in his hands.
"Free country; I can do what I want," Chuck snapped.
Andrew's eyes flashed, and he stood quickly, stepping forward, suddenly noticing he was taller than Chuck. Chuck blanched.
"Was gonna take the boat out anyway," Chuck said loudly. "Come on, Ed. Leave the momma's boy to his birds."
"See you later," Ed said with a shrug, following Chuck.
Andrew returned his attention to the tangled raven, hissing when he saw that its talon had become so twisted in the string during its struggle it had broken. A tear slid down Andrew's cheek.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. He started cutting at the string, glad he'd shoved his multi-tool into his pocket.
While he worked, he talked softly. "Ravens once saved my life, you know. I was riding this humongous snake into a canyon, and they grabbed me just before I hit the ground. It was pretty close. I'd already said my goodbyes, and then there they were, lifting me up. It was incredible." The raven didn't so much as twitch, just watched Andrew's face, eyes rather serious.
"I dream of flying sometimes now. I think it would be incredible to have wings. Is it?" The raven didn't respond, not that Andrew had expected it to. He cut the final piece of string, and the raven was free.
"Can you fly?" Andrew asked. The bird shook its wings, inclined its head slightly, then took flight, joining the other ravens. Andrew grinned broadly. He'd saved someone. Well, maybe not someone, but something. He'd saved a bird. It was the first useful thing he'd done in his entire life. Excluding the time he'd spent in Pecos's body.
Worthless, he thought irritably. In all of his thirteen years, he hadn't made a damn difference, not once, not until today. "My life is an absolute waste," he muttered, picking up the pieces of cut string and shoving them into his pocket. There was still more in the tree, so he jumped, grabbing it and pulling it down. He didn't want any more ravens getting tangled up.
He looked around and realized there was fishing line everywhere, hanging from bushes and trees, stuck in the mud, lining the edge of the lake. It wasn't hard to see why the owls and snakes hadn't sided with them when they'd gone to fight Septimis. Humans sucked.
Andrew bent to pick up some more string. And some more. By sunset, he'd circled the entire lake, picking up every bit of loose string he could find, totally stuffing two grocery bags he'd found caught in a bush.
When he finally walked back to the campsite, he was exhausted, but for the first time in ever, he felt like he'd done something worthwhile. The feeling quickly faded when he realized all his effort was worthless. There would be more string tomorrow and the next day and the next. Someday the entire lake would probably be filled with fishing line.
At least with Septimis, when they were done, Septimis was gone and he could never hurt anyone ever again. But humans? They were just going to keep chucking their trash and their string and their junk on the ground regardless of whom or what they hurt. Because they just didn't care. He almost wished he hadn't bothered, but at least he'd tried.
"What'd you do today, Andrew?" Mrs. Rufus asked when he sat beside her. "Chuck said you didn't go boating with them." She hated it when Andrew went off alone, but she was being diplomatic since Chuck's parents were there.
"I wanted to," Andrew said with a shrug. "But there was so much loose fishing string around the lake, I got distracted picking it up."
"Trying to earn your Good Neighbor Merit Badge?" Chuck asked with a sneer.
"It does seem rather trashy this year," Mrs. Colburn said. "Maybe we should all spend some time picking up trash tomorrow."
Chuck glared at Andrew, and Andrew grinned. "I think that sounds great!" Andrew said loudly.
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "We'll start right after breakfast."
Chuck scowled at Andrew across the fire. Andrew scowled back. Ed told a fishing joke, and all the adults laughed. They were completely oblivious to the hostility. Which didn't surprise Andrew. He and Chuck had been friends since kindergarten. It was hard to believe they couldn't even have a polite conversation anymore. But they couldn't.
The remaining days of the camping trip were awful. Chuck went out of his way to mock and torment Andrew at every opportunity. He "accidently" dropped Andrew's plate of food on the ground, he tripped Andrew into the lake, he dumped cold water down Andrew's back, and he put a snake in Andrew's sleeping bag, which for obvious reasons Andrew didn't think was funny. The snake didn't seem to care about Andrew though, so that was a relief. Maybe only snakes from Pecos's time knew what Andrew had done.
Whenever the adults weren't around, Chuck called Andrew "momma's boy" and "sissy". Andrew hadn't liked it when Pecos called him a sissy, but at least Pecos had a point. Compared to Pecos, Andrew was a sissy. But compared to Chuck? Not even. Andrew knew he'd win if they fought because Chuck was a coward, always had been.
But Andrew didn't want to fight Chuck. He still remembered all the good times they'd had, all the camping trips they'd had fun on, all the baseball games they'd won together. And he didn't want to ruin it, so he just ignored Chuck the best he could.
He was relieved when they finally headed home. Even fresh air wasn't worth time spent in Chuck's company. He wished he never had to see Chuck again, but unfortunately, he only had three days before school started, and then he'd be seeing Chuck every day.
He wished he hadn't been stupid enough to think Chuck would believe him. If he'd just kept his mouth shut about Pecos and everything that had happened, Chuck wouldn't know a thing, and they could still be friends. But it was too late now. Everything was ruined, and Andrew didn't know how to fix it.
Chapter 3
The night before school started, Andrew snuck out to the warehouse district again, hoping to lessen his growing unease. He climbed the tallest building and sat on the edge, feet dangling forty feet above ground. A couple months ago he would never have conceived of doing something so bold, so dangerous. But today, it just didn't seem like a big deal. As long as his mom never found out.
He rode his bike slowly home, envying Pecos, since children raised by coyotes certainly didn't attend school. He'd bet money Pecos didn't even know how to read. Why should he? He didn't need to read to fight monsters and stuff.
That night Andrew dreamed of raging fires and screaming women, and he woke drenched in sweat.
The first two weeks of school were uneventful. Andrew had been a mediocre student before, but now he was abysmal. He had no interest in math or English or history, outside of western history, which they definitely weren't teaching.
He sat out in gym class claiming his leg hadn't quite healed, mostly because he didn't want to interact with Chuck, not because he had any particular dislike of gym. Coach Todd, both the gym teacher and the baseball coach, demanded a doctor's note, so Andrew went to the doctor and told him his leg was still bothering him. It wasn't exactly a lie. The fact his leg had healed so fast was somewhat concerning.
Chuck and Ed weren't talking to him. No one was. He had been ostracized within the first week simply because he couldn't bring himself to care about the things everyone else cared about. Video games and comic books were just pretend. Baseball was just a sport; there was nothing at stake, no lives on the line. Going to movies and hanging out didn't change anything, didn't affect anyone's life.
He'd lived real danger and faced real fear. He'd confronted death and lived. People had died because of him, but he'd saved hundreds more, maybe thousands. The structured and controlled world he lived in just didn't make sense to him now. And so he kept looking, kept searching, kept trying to find Pecos.
When the library finally ran out of books for him to read, Andrew tried different avenues of research. He visited some retirement communities after school, saying he'd like to interview residents for a school project, but none of the residents were old enough to contribute anything useful. Most of them had heard of Pecos Bill, but only as a legend. His English teacher had been pretty surprised to receive the paper Andrew had turned in, since it wasn't actually an assignment, but he gave Andrew an "A" anyway. It was the only "A" he'd ever gotten.
After a suggestion from Ms. Whyte, Andrew emailed questions to several historians who specialized in western history. He asked specific questions about the time frame of 1867 near Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, since he wasn't sure exactly where he'd been. He even went so far as to ask whether or not it was possible that the legend of Pecos Bill had been based on a real man.
Only one of the historians responded. She suggested several sources, but most of them he'd already read. Then she had gently, but firmly, said there was absolutely no evidence that Pecos Bill was based in truth; and, furthermore, his story hadn't even been created until the early 1900's. This got Andrew thinking about the man who had first written about Pecos Bill, so he looked him up, but it was just another dead end.
He was starting to think that whatever had happened was done, finished. Like some weird, random bit of magic had cast him back in time, affecting his life, changing him into someone new, then spat him back out and left him here. Forever. Always wondering why.
He didn't like that thought, but he realized he'd have to eventually leave well enough alone. But not yet. He wasn't quite ready to let go. Wasn't quite ready to accept normal again.
When baseball season for the recreational district started, Andrew dropped off the team which horrified the entire school body, teachers included. His school was very serious about baseball. They had won state fifteen years in a row, last year with Andrew as their star pitcher.
Coach Todd liked them to train all year, so he'd organized a five county REC league several years ago to offset the school's season. No one had ever dropped off the team before. Andrew insisted he just didn't feel well enough yet, but even his mom didn't believe him.
Chuck and some of the other baseball players started calling Andrew "The Deserter". He was their best pitcher after all, so the team was off to a pretty lousy start, and everyday there was a new insult taped to his locker door.
