Kiss Me, Curse Me

“Of dust and bones.”

His grandfather sat before the raging fire, muttering in tongues, waving his hand to the sky and pointing at the star systems. Ahanu couldn’t understand yet, being just three years old, but he knew then that what his grandfather said was the way it would be and the way it had always been.

“Sleep my son.” His mother whispered as she brushed her lips against his cheek. He shuddered under her soft intent.

It was love in the simplest, purest form.

The fire burned before them as he faded away in her arms under the stars mixed in with the words of the ages and the light songs of his people—harmony is the weave beneath the web.



It was the uncomfortable sharpness pressing into every inch of his body that finally brought him to, but the sharpness of what? He tried pressing up but his hands gave way as the ground moved with a hollow scrape. He grasped at the hard stuff beneath him, clenching at some long cylindrical object. Lifting it up, he realized that it was a bone. A bed of bones to sleep in? It was sickening as he really saw the thing with its cracks.

There was a microscopic light source, but from where exactly he couldn’t tell. It illuminated the burial chamber that he was in. He kicked his legs and pushed the bones aside till he could sit on proper ground that was cold and damp and made up of the deceased. He was in a foot deep, piles and piles of skulls and bones and old rotten sinews. The smell burned in his throat and nose. It was all wrong, this place. My people’s dead are not buried in this manner. He knew this to be true.

Ahanu stood at the depressed center of the ongoing expanse. He could see no end to the spectacle as he searched through the dark. He knew in a single horrifying moment that he was lost somewhere in the belly of the mountain, and he cringed.



***



“Goddammit!” Patty yelled. “Slow down a second. I’m going to drop this thing and then the two of us are going off this here cliff.” Doug, who was in front, stopped so Patty could steady his grip on the boat above them. “How’d I get stuck with you again anyway? Look at this big group, and I’m stuck with your ass.”

Doug didn’t say a word as his stomach shrunk at the sight of the drop off. “I stopped, all right?”

“Okay, okay, move on.”

The men trickled down the side of the overhang, like a line of ants hauling debris back to their hill. It was tricky business as Patty felt his age catching up with him a bit. It was enough of a distraction to get his mind off the morbid task ahead.

Being last in line with ding bat, hadn’t been on his list of things to do either as the two of them fell behind.

“Pick it up son. Come on now, pick it up,” pressed Patty.

“You want it fast, you want it slow . . . Which?”

“Goddamn. Did your father not teach you a thing about pace son? Keep the pace, stick with the crowd, or we’ll be left behind. It’s more dangerous.”

“I’m confused.” Doug readjusted his grip as his fingers began to ache under the weight.

“I can tell.”

“Look here, okay? If we’re clear on all sides, pick it up. Slow down on the sketchy parts, okay? It’s simple.”

Doug nodded, even though he didn’t understand. All those years of school and his teachers had just been letting him advance on—were tired of holding him back and dealing with him.

“I know, I’m slow. I’m sorry.”

Patty shook his head, “Your father let you off with too much, son. You’re not slow, you’re lazy. There’s a difference. You just think you’re slow, or you’ve been told that for too long, and now it’s become your excuse.”

“Maybe,” said Doug, but he knew differently.

Halfway down the trail, the party ahead was not visible to them anymore. Doug was tiring, and Patty was feeling the heat.

“Can we rest just—”

“Yes . . . fine . . . put her down slow,” Patty interrupted, out of breath himself.

Carefully they boat laid the boat down on the side of the path.

“My father—”

Patty stopped him. “You don’t need to say.”

“I do. No one knows.”

“They do, Doug.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve always known. This town is small.”

Doug hung his head in shame.

“You’ll be fine. Make your own life. It won’t follow you.”

“I can’t. I can’t leave him. I’m stuck.”

“No. You’re not stuck. You just feel that way now. You’re never stuck. You can always leave.”

“My mother, she . . . sits there every day, same spot.”

Patty exhaled, wiping the sweat of his forehead with a stained hanky he always carried and looked at the lost teen. Maybe it was all those years of malnourishment that affected his frame, or just his hard life?

“I’m hard on you for a reason. It’s the lack of things in our lives that brings us down, okay? Remember that.” Patty gave the kid a firm pat on the shoulder. “We’ll continue on here.”

“Okay,” said Doug struggling internally under a grimace.



***



If there was a way out, it wasn’t obvious to Ahanu as he fumbled in the black.

“Hello?” His voice carried ahead of him, so he followed it.

He was very tired, very hungry and his voice box ached from the pressures it had suffered under attack. Swallowing gently, he stopped to listen for any sign to give him direction, but there was nothing, just the feeling of a low-pressure zone, the cool and the dank. He leaned down against the uneven wall he had been running his hand along and tried to think. How’d I get here? That thing couldn’t have dragged me all the way in. No way. No way.

The stories were all there in his mind about the land. He’d heard them over and over, and tried to remember them now.



Dinner was over, and Ahanu’s beautiful mother cleared the plates away from the small table, all six of them crammed in. She never ever bothered to sit and eat with them, just served in demure silence. She was always so happy, regardless of what was going on. Her face was the color of the inside of a seashell and her black hair always back in a neat braid. She carried her posture well and though she was not rich, she dressed as best she could in tanned skirts and tops, the occasional sundress. She began her washings, and the rest remained to listen to the ritual of the oral traditions.

All attention moved to the head of the table. His white-haired grandfather rubbed his worn hands together as he always did before he said a single word, then his face became very solemn as if each wrinkle carried a weight of its own. Ahanu always tended to focus on his grandfather’s nose for some reason. It had a crook in it, just sort of stuck out from the rest of him.

“Legend has it that many years ago a darkness washed upon this land, through our mountains, down our streams and into the river. It came as fast as the wind and as straight as the arrow. For some it was just another day, but for the few, and the few that could, it pierced them right in the heart, right here.” The teller took his fist and pounded his chest. “At first it was just a couple who were affected by it; later the rest would follow, one by one. It was in the grain, it was in the water, in every bite and every sip. We danced the nights away and sang away to the evil spirit that he may be appeased, that he may go back from where he came. But he did not and we did not. We offered the fish to him each season, as the leaves fell from the trees; we gave him the flesh of our catch. He accepted and we carried on. To this day, in this exchange, we live.” The Teller then spat as he always did at the end of a story, and his mother tsked, and Ahanu smiled.



“It’s the evil spirit. It’s the wolf.” Ahanu sighed thinking about the story and the salmon, as only some had made it past the dam work to spawn the previous season. The rest had washed upon the banks or gathered in awful, silvery-pink piles. There was more to catch than ever before and the leftovers would be dried, canned and stored for future use. The upcoming season would be worse. He knew it and then it all clicked for him—the dam. It was the dam that was ruining the balance, and he had awakened the curse by entering the cave.

He then realized what the bones were—the dead—all a sacrifice to the wolf.

“Come out to me now then. You showed me what you wanted, now come. Show me the way out. I can only offer you my help, okay? I can offer it; I can’t promise that I will actually be able to do what you ask of me. Just don’t take her from me, okay? Don’t take her from me. You have plenty back there.”

Ahanu awaited a response and thought he heard a faint growl come from somewhere, but wasn’t sure if his severe hunger caused the auditory hallucination or not.



***



“The little angel sleeps, while the rest of us work,” said Betty, wiping a single bead of sweat off Coreen’s forehead.

“Don’t doubt that she isn’t working,” said Doc, lifting up the bed sheets, “She’s naked!” He quickly put them back over her.

“Don’t ask me. I didn’t take that little dress off. I think I know who did.”

“Who?”

“I’m not saying.”

“I see then.” He lifted the sheets up just enough to see her leg, red from infection spreading up the groin area.

“What’s the prognosis then?”

“She’s in a coma. Get something on her, Christ. She shouldn’t be laying here like this, you know, with who’s about and that.”

“I’m the only one in this room. I’ve been entertaining in other places. Come on now, Doc. No need for a scolding here.”

He shook his head as he opened up his black bag. “I’ll change her bandage, and I’ll be back later.”

“Ah, I bet you will.” Betty gave him her best smile with red lipstick and all.

“Not for that.” He pouted. “I have a new patient nearby.”

“Who?”

“You tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine,” he teased as he undid the dirty, bloody wrap.

“No deal.” She folded her arms.

“See . . . anyway, I don’t think it’ll amount to anything serious, nothing you’d be interested in, even from a gossip standpoint.” He looked closer at his work.

She squeezed his arm, “You’ve got me pegged, haven’t you, Doc?”

“For years now, I’d say.”

The wound looked worse than the previous night, inflamed around the stitches; he carefully rewrapped it and put the leg to rest.

“Can she hear us then?” Betty stood, staring, as if disturbed by the girl and the unending stillness.

“I doubt it; there’d be more response from her from our voices, perhaps a flicker of the eyelid or a twitch in the finger. She’s somewhere else.”

“Is it like death? I mean the coma?”

“Close enough, I’d say.” He closed his bag and turned to face her, noticing she was dressed very conservatively in a white, button-up blouse and tight, black skirt. “You going somewhere?”

“Yes. I have to go into town. I hate going into town.”

“I thought you sent someone?”

“Not today, she’s under the weather. My Raska, my seaberry. I have to go.”

“You want me to take a look at her?”

“Not that kind of weather.”

“What kind then?”

“A letter came, and though it was months ago . . . her father died, bad news from mother Russia. It pains me to see her like that.”

“You still have half a heart then.”

“And the other half is broken.” She closed her eyes thinking of distant times. “I’ve tried to forget, but it lingers, you know.”

“I do. It never does really leave you, these things, these dark things.” He opened up the window to let the breeze in.

“No. Why do think I’m here?”

“Same reason we all are. Where the hell else would we go? Now see to it that Blondie here has a cold cloth on her, try to cool her down a bit. I’m going to see if I can get some of this new drug in I’ve been hearing about, some fungal derivative. It’s rare and costly.”

“I’ll cover it, and I’ll keep her cool,” said Betty.

“There could be two angels in this room,” he chortled.

“That’s enough. You wouldn’t say such a thing if you knew what I was really up to.” Betty shooed the old man, her good friend, away.



***



“Help, we need help.” Patty called out.

A couple free men came running back up the trail at the sound of the destruction. Leaning over, they saw a crumpled boat below and an injured Doug grasping at trees along the rock face.

“This is some pretty shit.” one of them mumbled.

“Shut up. We need to get him up, need rope,” said Patty.

Doug moaned under the pain, blood seeping through his brown, button-up shirt. Every cough brought a sputter of red.

“Look at him. He’s gonna die.”

Patty gave the tall, buzz-cut lug a punch on the shoulder. “One more word out of you, and you’re going down there with him.”

The rope was fetched, tied, and lowered in such a way to allow for the injured party to tie it about himself. Doug struggled at the task, spewing clots, begging for breath. He couldn’t tie it.

“Doug, son, you have to get this on you, or we can’t hoist you up. You have to try,” said Patty.

Struggling to even move, Doug tried to put the rope over his head.

“That’s it, that’s it, move it down more and hold onto it.”

Doug shuffled the rope down to his waist.

“Hold on tight now. Pull . . . pull . . .” Patty hollered, and the three men inched him up. “Pull . . . pull . . .”

The men didn’t dare look over the cliff, just backed up as far as they could leaning against the rock face for balance. The rope was taught and as Doug neared the top, Patty reached down and grabbed him under the arms, heaving to the dusty trail edge.

Doug tried to speak, tried to utter a word, but he couldn’t; there was too much blood, too much damage to his body.

“We gotta get him to the medic; they have a medic for the dam,” said the lug.

Patty shook his head. “I know they do. We won’t make it there; he’s not going to make it there.” Patty rubbed his hand along Doug’s forehead and moved his blond hair out of his eyes. The boy’s face—small-featured and lightly freckled—was okay compared to his body.

“I can get him down there, I know I can. We have to try. We have to,” another voice spoke. Patty looked up at the unknown fellow. Who is this guy? Strong, that’s for sure. “Who are you?”

“I’m Brighton. I’m new here. I just started workin’ down there, pouring concrete, but they saw me yesterday—the medic, for my head.”

“Oh . . . I don’t want to know. If you say so, take him. His name is Doug; he’s seventeen, the same age as my daughter. Take him down there then.”

Brighton lifted the ailing teen and carried him off ahead.

Patty looked at the other weighty fellow and couldn’t be bothered for further discussions. “Come on, we need to find my daughter.”



***



Whatever day or time it was, Ahanu didn’t know by this point. Maybe only an hour had passed, maybe twenty. He pushed on in the dark, feeling the rocky, sometimes slimy walls, and stumbled on the odd lump of something—a stalagmite maybe, or not. He didn’t try to figure it out. It was probably all the same—something dead, something eaten, something rotting. There was no food in that place. It was a place to be fed upon, as far as he could tell. He knew the wolf was around, or maybe there were many wolves. There must have been a den there for them all. Where there was one, there was more; that’s how it was in life, with any creature.

His ancestors were there as well, mixed in somehow, in some unsightly genocide, concealed. That was all he could figure. A mass grave like that only meant one thing. It was unsettling; he could barely handle it there, alone, wandering. His thoughts were going to deeply dark places. Places he didn’t want to think of, places he’d pushed away.



“Hold her down, quick. There’s not much time.”

“No. I can’t.” Ahanu turned his head away, couldn’t look, didn’t want to see.

“Hold her arms down.”

“If you don’t hold her arms down, then you’ll be doing the cutting.”

Ahanu looked into his sister’s eyes. She was in the worst kind of pain—he could feel it in his chest, sense the desperation, the misery. She wanted to die in that moment. He knew it. Of all the times he came home, that was the one time he’d wished he’d stayed out all night in the woods. He would have missed it all.

“Hold her steady, hold her steady,” his father said, taking his place next to his son. They didn’t look alike. Ahanu took more after his mother. His father had that same crook in his nose like his grandfather, his skin a dark tan, his hair completely shaven so that his bald head glistened under the hunter’s sun. Skin to skin, they all knelt on the grass. It was hot enough that just touching one another made each of them that much more irritable.

Ahanu closed his eyes right as the long knife hit his sister’s lightly tanned skin.



“No.” Ahanu cried out to the dark void. “Get me out here, someone. Please.” It was all he could muster as he tried with all of his might to think of something else, something good. He dug deep and pulled forth one image—a smile, simple and sweet. It was Coreen’s. The last real smile she’d given him behind the cathouse.



***



“Okay, four in the boat. We only have one; you cross to the other side and search down river past the dam. If you see anyone, ask if they’ve seen anything. You’re operating under the name of the sheriff—just tell them that. Any trouble, take names. Any sight of anything, you have your flare guns, and we’ll come to you. I’ve arranged for your pickup later downstream at John’s Bend.” Sheriff Doby voiced the commands like he’d done so a hundred times before. “Patty, your choice on where you want to go.”

Patty took a look at the dinky watercraft hobbling against the current. With three men aboard, it wasn’t looking too stable. “This side is fine.”

“Right, you go with them in the boat, the rest with us. Check the edge, the bank, trees, everything. Anything out of the ordinary, let me or Patty know. We meet back here when the sun begins to set; don’t want to go back up that hike in the dark.”

The men in the boat set out along the river, fighting hard from the start to cross the five-hundred-foot stretch. The rest of the men split into two teams, one going up river, one going down. Patty took the path to the dam. Doby went upstream.

The bank narrowed in many spots as Patty inched along. He wanted in closest to the water; the other few men he was grouped with went inland a bit more. He just wanted to search alone, didn’t want anyone around, just in case he found her in some inconceivable condition. My baby. He pictured a pink little thing in his arms, a wisp of blonde poking from the tightly wrapped bundle, sleeping into the late hours, just the two of them.

He checked everything, every bush, every rock group, hopped up on the taller boulders to get a better view. As he neared the dam site, the noise increased; the river had been previously diverted past the site on a new course to allow for construction. Patty followed the new bank edge; the boat crew would hit the opposite side. He could see that the boat had been shored, but didn’t see the men anywhere.

The land at the site dipped down into the old river basin—a gorge. It was dry as a bone; it wasn’t often that his work required him down in the pits of the labor. He spent his time managing in an office, sending out orders, directing flow. As he neared, he stopped to watch the eight-yard buckets gliding across cable ways, lowering into the rectangular forms that would be the base of the dam, releasing a perfect mix of concrete to the men who would smooth it out. His focus was interrupted.

“Should we go onsite?” It was the nameless man who’d hauled Doug to the medics. He looked shaken still from the ordeal.

“No. I’ll ask my crew chief later of any reports. They’re too busy to notice the river, and it’s too dangerous the farther in you go. Just follow me.”

They continued past the power plant construction, focusing on the search. An hour later, they hit John’s Bend with no sign of the girl.



***



The scream was enough to turn any man’s stomach. Ahanu attempted to soothe his younger sister, but there was no soothing to be had as the blood gushed, the infected hand now removed. Her screams continued.

“We got it in time. She may live still,” said his father moving the hand out of sight and taking his only daughter inside to his own mother, who would work with the stump.

Ahanu scanned for her small hand stuffed into the long grass, saw the two pinpricks on the skin where the snake had sunk its sharp fangs. He followed her screams inside as their somber father did the rest. Ahanu couldn’t fathom his father’s apparent coldness, almost a disregard for the humane. He struggled with the thought realizing his father had done what he did because he loved his child. The sacrifice of her hand was a small price to pay for her life. It hadn’t enough though as they spent the hours of the night watching Sunka die—enough poison had made it into her little veins to cause her organs to shut down. . The entire family watched as Ahanu’s mother served the little soul in her last hours. At this point, his sister suffered only mildly as Grandmother had given her an old concoction, mixed from her collection of rendered plants and herbs. His father knelt beside her when she took her last breath. They wept, thanked the Great Spirit for taking her into the spirit world, and sang the death song. They all cried—except Ahanu.

Just listening, he watched, but did not feel thankful himself. He felt empty. He felt sad and angry for not being there sooner, for arriving when he did, for seeing what he had, for feeling guilty about what he was even thinking. The rest was awash. He spent the days and nights after that awake, wandering the forest, hiding at his den, only coming home to eat. He didn’t sleep much for months, not until he met Coreen. She’d rescued him from oblivion. She’d given him peace when he’d had none and life again after the loss of one.

With that thought, Ahanu regained his drive to succeed and continued through the tunnels amongst the whispers of the lost.





The day had all been too hard for Ed. As he slumped his way up the stairs to Betty’s room, every step was filled with an ache, one that had been increasing steadily over the months. He stopped at the top of the stairs listening to some pleasant moan, which for him only put him more in the mood for some of the same, but thinking back now, it merely reminded him of his troubled childhood mixed in similar places. A man born of a whore would only find himself among them later in life. He smiled at the thought and about what he would soon receive at the end of a long day’s labor. He didn’t want to work too hard in bed though. He opened the ordinary door to his favorite lady’s private quarters.

Ignoring the pink décor as he always did, he tossed his boots off, peeled off his sweaty socks, took a seat in his usual flouncy, white chair, and placed his feet in the cool bowl of water, which Betty always left for him. Leaning back with a long exhale, he relaxed. He opened one eye noticing the lump under the white, cotton bed sheets. She’s already waiting—asleep. He grinned.

He rested a bit longer before undressing. He stood fully nude before the mirror, admiring himself as he tended to do, and stroked his long black beard. It was perfectly trimmed, thinning to the end in a nice V.

“Baby, I’m home,” he said approaching the bed.

But instead of his brilliant brunette resting her lovely head on the pillow, he only saw a blonde. His happy face faded to look of puzzlement.

“What do we have here?” His tone was lecherous. He leaned in close, noticing the pallor of her skin, her light sweat, and the very obvious feminine curvatures leading underneath. It was enough to stir his murkier side.

He moved around the other side of the bed and got in. He lay with his sculpted, masculine body facing the young girl and examined her perfect features. He lifted up the sheets for a better look, noticing the bandage below. He didn’t dwell on the injury, moving his eyes farther down her neat frame to his favorite part of the female body. “Youth,” he mused. As he lifted his dirty hand to touch, he was startled by the door opening.

“What are you doing?” yelled Ahanu, slamming the door shut and charging forward as every inch of him turned into a flaming ball of anger.

Ed, always of disposition for a good screw or a good fight, jumped from the bed, dukes up. Ahanu, ignoring the brawny fists, slammed full force into the bearded, hairy-chested contender, causing him to fall back against the window ledge.

“You rotten piece of— That’s my girl there in that bed.” Ahanu went straight for Ed’s jugular, squeezing hard, completely prepared to choke the life out of this man. Ed’s face turned a purplish red, the blood backing up in his skull, yellowed eyes filling with the same fluid pressures. He tried to rasp out a few words and slapped his hands against Ahanu’s back till he felt something long—hair. He pulled. Ahanu’s head jerked back. They held the stance till Ed’s grip weakened, and he relaxed, his body beginning to shut down. Ahanu let him fall to the wooden floor beneath them and kicked him in the gut just for the sake of it. He wasn’t dead, just unconscious, or so Ahanu thought. Ed opened an eye and swept a foot at the backs of Ahanu’s ankles, knocking him to the ground.

“I know you; you’re that kid that interrupted me last night. I tolerated it once, but not this time.” Ed took a swing, planting a fist into Ahanu’s perfect chin. A few more hits between the two of them, a push here and there, and the room was not looking so charming and dainty.

Betty walked into the ruckus. “What’s all this? Ed? What are you doing here? I told you tomorrow.” She just watched and waited calmly, as the two men tried to kill each other. “Why do I always have to be the one to put an end to these things? Ed? Just stop, okay? No snooki doo if you don’t.”

Ed stopped immediately, the two fighters on the floor, breathing hard.

“Why on earth are you naked? Do you not see that that is not me in that bed, Ed? You better not have been up to what I think you may have.”

“He was. I walked in on him. He’s sick. I can’t stand this place.” Ahanu got up and brushed off, straightening up his shirt, and reaching for a cloth from the vanity to blot his bleeding brow.

“Tell me something new here, kid.” Betty flashed Ahanu a scolding guise. “Ed, I think it’s time for you to leave. Let me finish here, and I will meet you downstairs. Fix yourself a drink.”

Ed did so quickly, and Ahanu tended to Coreen.

“Lord that man. Speaking of naked, where’s her dress? Why did you take it?” Betty asked. “Diversion.”

“Hmmm. I heard about the search party when I went into town. They think she’s dead, you know.”

“That’s what I want.”

“But why, I mean . . . didn’t you think this through?”

“I did. They won’t turn up a thing. It’ll buy us time.”

“Time for what? Look at her.” Betty dropped her red purse to the floor and went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s going to die,” she said.

He did not respond, just stared at the outline of Coreen’s chest under the sheet, her life slowing rising and falling back.

She gave him a little time, leaving then returning a few minutes later, “Come on now; it’s late. We should get you to bed.”

Ahanu was tired, he couldn’t argue that. He planted a soft kiss on Coreen’s cheek.

Betty showed Ahanu the very back room. They never used it much for anything. It was more a reserve for a busier night. The two didn’t exchange another word or another glance. Closing his door, she went down to the bar.

“I’m gonna kill that kid.”

“No, you are not. Whiskey?” Betty leaned over the bar edge enough for Ed to forget his thought and poured him a double shot.

The bar was packed with men crammed into tables, lined against the walls, cigars lit, and cigarettes aglow. It was hustle and bustle, women in tight, low-cut dresses with short hair, long, dangly earrings, and enough charm to wipe away any frown. Ed focused on the stage after downing his vice.

“I am. He’s dead, that kid. My neck is killing me.”

“You are a bit bruised. He almost had you, but I doubt anyone could really take you.” She wanted to warm his ego.

“No one almost has me,” Ed scoffed, but looking just a little less foul. Betty leaned in extra close to him, tugging lightly on the end of his beard. She gave him her seductive eyes and held his stare, whispering just for him to hear, “I need you to keep this quiet.”

“What?” He played ignorance.

“The girl upstairs. I need you to keep shut about it.”

“Why? What you up to?”

“It’s a delicate matter, you see.”

Ed moved his eyes down to her plump bosom, perfectly framed by her black corset dress. She switched her tug to curling his beard around her finger.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Ah ah!” She backed away from him.

“You come back here,” he ordered.

She did. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her down a bit against the bar counter. “I will, but it will cost you.”

“What? What does the great Ed want?”

“You know what I want.”

She tilted her head down, hiding her expression of disdain. “Fine. Now is good. Make it quick.”

Ed stood up from the bar stool, hollered “Woo,” and raised his glass in the air.

The two became silent, as did all the men. The lights came on, the piano music began, and the dancers flooded the stage in a variety of provocative, scant costumes. It was amazing what the shake of a tassel could rouse.

Ed led Betty back up the stairs.



***