Vi squeezed my arm through my robe. “You saw something, didn’t you? What was it?” Vi was always on the lookout for any sign that my “gift” was active.
I shook my head again, although she wasn’t likely to get the signal in the dark, while I wore a hood. “Nothing, I—”
A scream cut through the chanting. One of the robed figures had fallen into the center of the circle, the face covered by the hood. The voices stopped and the inky figures blended together as they rushed to the crumpled form. Diana arrived first and pulled the hood back. It was Rafe Godwin. He clutched his throat, his face dark in the dim light of the clearing. His huge, terrified eyes made it look as if he were choking himself. Then, grabbing Diana’s wrist, he pointed to his throat with his other hand.
“Is he having a heart attack?” a hooded figure asked.
“His lips are swelling, it looks like an allergic reaction,” another voice volunteered.
“Call 911!” Diana said.
Gasps and concerned tskings made their way through the circle.
“Oh my,” said Vi, at my side again.
“Rafe, where is it?” Diana asked.
He wrestled with his robe and Diana began pawing through the folds.
“Diana, what are you doing?” I said. I knelt down to help her.
“He’s got an EpiPen in here somewhere. I think he’s going into shock.” She continued wrestling with his clothing and a few others knelt to do the same.
The group began muttering about bees and wasps. But at midnight in October the likelihood that an insect sting was involved seemed remote.
“Here it is!” Diana held a short tube the length of a pen over her head. She popped the injector out of its plastic holder and jabbed it into his thigh right through the robe.
Now that I stood closer, I saw the mottled dark color of his face, the swollen lips and eyelids. He fought to take weak raspy breaths.
The crowd got very quiet. I expected Rafe to take a deep breath, and for his eyes to return to normal size. Nothing happened. He stopped struggling, but otherwise I saw no change. Certainly not the miraculous recovery I had come to expect from watching television.
Diana shook his shoulders but he didn’t respond.
One of the people who had pushed through to the front of the crowd began CPR. Someone else announced that an ambulance had been dispatched. As we stood helplessly watching, I realized Rafe Godwin would not be seeing the future.
2
Muffled sniffles and sobs punctuated the otherwise quiet clearing. We’d known he was dead a few minutes after CPR had started. Fortunately, one of the group members, a nurse, took over the evaluation and finally made the decision to stop CPR. Visibly shaken, he sat with his back against a nearby tree, head in hands, while the rest of us held vigil and waited for the paramedics to arrive.
Diana sat next to Rafe on the ground and seemed to be in a trance. Her hood lay flat on her back, her orange curls reflecting the glow of the bonfire. I knelt next to her, murmuring reassuring platitudes and feeling helpless. I knew how close Rafe and Diana had been.
Vi stood nearby. Her eyes glittered in the flickering light and the shadows accentuated the furrows and creases on her face.
The wail of a siren intruded on our stunned group and then we heard the EMTs crashing through the trees.
Two men burst into the clearing. One looked about fifty, red faced and breathing heavily from the sprint through the woods. The other could have kept running all the way into Crystal Haven. Surely just out of his teens, he’d need to show ID every time he bought a beer. They quickly assessed the mood of the crowd and let their equipment slump to the ground. After verifying that Rafe was dead they moved the stretcher toward Rafe’s body to carry him out of the woods. Diana looked confused at their approach and leaned over as if to protect him from attack.
“Diana, he’s gone,” I said. I touched her shoulder.
She looked at me with wet eyes.
“But I gave him the epinephrine. Why didn’t it work?”
I shook my head and helped her stand so the EMTs could do their work.
“Let them get him to the hospital,” I said.
“Is there any next of kin?” the older man asked as he scanned the crowd. I saw his eyes grow wide as he took in the cloaks and hoods, the cauldron and altar.
Several people shook their heads, and turned to Diana.
“No, I’m the closest thing he’s got to family.” Her voice broke, and she rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. Rafe Godwin was Diana’s father’s oldest friend. He’d been like an uncle to her and her brother growing up, and a source of support after their parents died.
The younger EMT had shuffled closer to his partner and scanned the crowd as if he were a rabbit who had stumbled into a fox den.
“What’s going on here?” the older one asked.
“It’s part of the Fall Fun Fest,” I said. I stuck out my hand. “I’m Clyde Fortune, and this is one of the scheduled activities.”