The night was young, unlike the observer who sat upon the plateau. He gazed down over the quiet valley community, watching lights slowly traverse dimly lit roads that crisscrossed the sprawling city. The air was dry and cool. As the wind picked up, his long gray hair floated in front of his cracked face and partially obscured his vision. He made no effort to remove the obstacle, instead he waited for the circling winds to clear his line of sight.
The old man could see life hitch and jerk beneath him and he thrived on the sights and actions he was able to probe into on any one night. The sounds and desires of the night‑life flowed through him as he reached out with his ears and mind to delve within the lives of those below. Conversations, movements, needs, and endeavors became his to taste unobtrusively from his mountain perch.
He could feel that the community was unaware of his watching presence tonight. The minds below usually failed to conceive that he was watching, feeling his way among them. Some nights, though, they were edgy and paranoid causing him to step carefully. But they were never fully aware. Except for one evening.....was it yesterday? No, it was longer. Yet the memory is still so vivid. His face twisted in thought, yes‑‑so vivid and therefore so near....yet so long ago......
The night remembered, yet long past, held the same stars and sky but the action below was so very different. There seemed to be an extreme purpose in the movement that took place that night. The lights had meaning, direction, as they flared with intensity and force. From the ground, stark beams probed the front of buildings. While from the air, search lights blared down upon the roof tops‑ knifing through the darkness. Mechanical roars of life could be heard shattering and burying the normal sounds of the night.
That night, perched upon his well worn rock in the sky, the old man was, too, like the stars. But between the two, only the old man was interested in the action below. His keen eyes eagerly absorbed the sights that unfolded beneath him. He had been there so long before and such a visual menagerie from this town was new to him.
He leaned into the vision of lights, trying to find their meaning but could only hear its jumbled sounds. The old man strained his ears to filter out the useless noise but the sounds were twisted and clumped together, overriding any useful information. Straightening himself the old man calmed his body by slowing down his breathing. He reached out mentally and carefully latched on to the labyrinth of sounds.
The immediate blare of raw noise pushed the old man mentally and physically backwards severing his tenuous hold to the sound and to the rock below him. Defiantly the old man dusted off his surprise, regained his post and entrenched his position upon the rock. Intrigued, he again attempted to hook into the pool of sound. But this time the old man raised his perception above the crashing noise and surveyed it from the air.
In his new position, the noise and sound had color and movement that carried it high and wide. But those sounds that carried the farthest were the one's he wanted the least. Studying the colorful yet tangled web of threads arching and twisting beneath him, the old man searched for the fibers that signified a human voice. Shining silver they hung in the heart of the chaotic skein. Diving into the tapestry of sound the old man grabbed at the fragile threads. Initially the surrounding fabric reluctantly parted. But when the old man was completely encompassed in the writhing mass it grappled with him trying to suffocate him with their sheer presence. But he strained onward and soon he captured a handful of the elusive fibers. Immediately he could pick out a few faint words emanating from his captured threads. Focusing only on those vocalizations, the old man mentally pushed back the cluttering threads that still tried to entangle him. Carefully he studied the length of the remains, looking for a seed of information.
Encapsulated with in the mental shield the old man tended to the fragments of sound like a garden, nursing them along. Quickly random letters melded into coherent words and as the words lined up, whole sentences blossomed and grew before him. Outside the safety bubble, a sea of chaotic noise and color stood, held at bay only by thought.
"‑‑onlyFrank,heardonetrailgunbody.ofshotCaucasianbloodand femaleleadscreaming.aboutnorth‑east Found twenty‑five, following victim brunette, Oakwood‑‑ downstairs, naked and battered. A knife, possible murder weapon, was found...."
"....at the scene. Forget the ambulance, get the coroner."
"Deitrich here, dispatch. I'm going to need...."
"...repeat, in foot pursuit. Nearing corner of Oak and Brookhurst."
"Mobilize on North Jackson, I want him cut off."
"....no, no, lost him. Repeat, I lost him..."
"Adam‑16, Adam‑16, suspect reported wearing hiking attire. Red checkered shirt, blue jeans. Last spotted moving south towards Portola State Park."
"This is detective Trevitts, leaving the scene and now proceeding to the last known visual sighting."
"...Air Chopper One‑‑nothing here, over."
"Attention all units, suspect could be armed. Reported gun shots in Valley Ave area, proceed with caution."
"Trevitts, this is Deitrich. How'n the hell did he get way over there?"
"Your wrong! Your wrong! He's over‑‑"
"All units, be advised‑‑"
"Dispatch, Officer Blackwell calling. We have an officer down. Request immed‑"
The increasing pressure of the contained noise reached the critical limit and began to tear down the wall that held it back. The old man struggled to keep the sounds in order. But the voices clotted with the in‑spilling noise, leaving a vocal quagmire enveloping the old man.
"‑‑have not regained visual‑‑"
"‑‑last known location‑ Trevitts, reporting‑ sending back up‑ all units, converge‑new report‑get don't Hey! two care what cars who is moving he heinthinkspressthathedoing direction!!is hereMurphy,removealready?!find‑‑"
Sound pounded at the old man's temples and enveloped his body trapping him. Pinned from all sides he tumbled through the air. Forcefully he cut himself out of the violent flood of information and noise. Snapping back into his body, again he jolted his sleeping frame off the rock. Lying on his back he heaved for air. So much movement, so much desire, yet so little real knowledge. After calming his rattled body, he wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand, climbed back upon his perch and watched further.
Over time the widely spread lights seemed to coalesce before him, gathering at a section of the valley near the base of his aerie. A singular movement rattled the stillness of the forest. Someone (Something?) stumbled along like a harried animal at the end of its final run.
Leaning forward again, the old man tried to peer deeper into the forest below him. Under the trees a figure dashed in and out of the shadows cast by the moon. The old man glanced back at the lights. They spread like jet contrails fanning out behind the runner.
The old man shifted his eyes back to the object of the search and decided he must know this enigma further if he was ever going to discover the meaning of tonight's theater.
Reaffirming his position on the rock, the old man laid one hand upon his crossed knees. The other reached out to the fugitive, palm up. The old eyes narrowed as the runner seemed to zigzag across his outstretched hand. Focusing harder, the old man watched the runner slowly grow in size right before him. As details became larger and clearer, he gazed through the runner's deep pitted eyes and searched the mind within. The hundreds of yards that separated them shrunk quickly as the old man continued to explore for a light behind the dark glassy eyes. Within seconds his time ran out and the runner was right on top of him.
They collided.
The force of the collision knock the old man to his feet and spun him halfway around. Arms pin‑wheeling he regained his balance and with a groan steadied his now wobbly legs. Standing still he could see trees and branches fly in and out of view. Below, the ground rolled darkly on while bushes and park benches shadowed past them. The moon slipped behind a cloud, tightening the dark further.
The old man turned his back to a world framed by the fugitive's eyes and continued his probe of the lightless mind he now stood within. The windowed eyes shed no extra light and the dense air stunted the old man's mental reach. With no other choice before him, he reluctantly strode directly away from his point of entry and into the pressing blackness that awaited.
Mentally exploring before him he could feel a void that seemed to stretch on endlessly, so he reach out further‑‑trying to scan the internal infinity before him. As he proceeded, physically and mentally, he encountered pockets of cold space that left areas of the skin numb and stiff. These effects goaded him to speed up his pace. But the old man was patient, never wavering in his purposeful search. Haste could mean death against the mind's defenses.
Timeless minutes later he alighted upon a single glow. Changing direction he centered upon the object.
At times, as the distance closed between them, the glow seemed to lunge eagerly at him. The gap closed sooner than expected and the object of the old man's search now floated before him.
The glow was shaped by a window which channeled the light into a beacon, beckoning him inward. The window itself stood shoulder high, open, and had frayed curtains that flew propelled by a non‑existent breeze. No supports held the window in place and no walls could be seen. The window hung there in empty space.
The old man approached the window and walked around it. Exactly the same image of curtains and light pouring out of the window greeted him on the other side. Carefully he ran his hands around the outside of the window. Its smooth frame continued unbroken all the way around. Facing the edge of the frame he plunged his hand into one side of the window. The old man looked around to the other‑side, his hand failed to reappear.
After extracting his hand the old man confronted the window face on. Bathed in the glow of light, he peeked through the window. A loud roar flooded his ears. The violent change in brightness burned into his retinas and he jerked away‑ hands rubbing at the white glaze that now coated his vision. Cursing to himself, the old man waited for the spots to clear before he attempted to climb through the frame.
As the old man entered the light the second time he thoughtfully avoided direct eye contact with the emanating light. Again a roaring sound pushed at his ears and he found his hair being pushed back from his head. Yet he felt no breeze upon his face. The old man gripped the sill with his callused hands and hoisted his body upwards. He failed to get the required height and came down to empty space. With the floor gone he flailed madly to regain a solid hand hold and finally hooked his arm over the window ledge. Pulling, he heaved his upper body over the sill. Doubled over the window frame he dragged a leg up, over, and then stopped so he was straddling the sill. Head bowed he took an extra breath.
The window frame began to vibrate underneath the old man. He tried to get the rest of the way through but was instead stopped short as the window pane came crashing down on his shoulder. Gasping he fell forward. By reaching out, he braced his hands against the sill below him and levered his back to hold up the assaulting frame. The frame tried to press the old man down. It shot up and slammed into his back.
Again the frame rose but this time the old man twisted upright and grappled the pane tightly in place. With one hand the old man held the viciously shaking frame while the other flailed for the curtain rod above him.
Ripping down the curtains, the old man broke the rod over his knee and wedged one of the halves into the window groove directly underneath the pane. The old man braced himself and let go of the window. The frame rattled but did not fall. Cautiously, not to disturb his work, the old man finished climbing into the room. The gate continued to rattle but could not lock him in.
The old man pushed and kneaded his bruises as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the light inside the small room. The roar was now duller yet constant and in time he was able to focus upon the source of both in the middle of the floor. The glow was cast by a single, football‑sized ember, which was weak like a dying campfire. But as the dim light bounced off the stark white walls it seemed to pick up strength and roar brightly out of the window. The old man could feel his clothes ruffle in the light's breeze.
Upon the ember a small flame jumped and sparked. The old man hunched down to crouch within its influence. The flame cast garbled images as it brightened and dimmed. The old man puzzled at the scenes displayed in a helter skelter fashion by the flame. Taking the other half of the curtain rod, the old man tried to poke life into the dying ember.
The flame latched on to the stick and shot its way up the old man's arm. The rod dropped to the ground as the old man staggered to his feet. Stumbling around the room he flailed his arms and fought to extinguish the flame as it encircled his head. Shattered images flashed behind his eyes and sound ricocheted through his mind as the flame licked at his hair and collar. The flame became a revolver waving before him......, a wall streaked with blood......, hands clawing at his face......, arms grappling with his.....
Seconds later the flame died, as it was now cut off from its source. Yet the old man continued to attack the ghostly images that stayed just out of direct sight. Fading screams echoed in his head as the old man slammed into a wall. He slid down and sat heavily. The window now rattled mockingly at him.
The light in the room, as well as the roar, began to fade. The old man just sat and stared at the now flameless ember. After‑images still haunted him, but instead of crying pain they screamed for retribution, for revenge. The old man looked around and alighted upon the tattered curtains. Reaching out as he stood up, the old man took the crumpled pile in hand and defiantly approached the glowing coal.
The old man knelt and encased the ember within the curtain. Quickly he doubled and trebled the wrapping. The linen began to smoke, thick billows streamed from gaps and holes. The old man hastily tied the free ends together and retreated.
He stood several yards away and watched the curtain pulse and throb as the ember strained to free itself and prevent its suffocation. The room rocked and knocked the old man off his feet. It was a fight to stand as the room continued to twist and quake.
Stumbling through a rapidly condensing smoke he groped for the window. The cloud wrapped around him like a grimy feather shroud limiting his sight. Its unclean feel slicked his skin and coated his mouth, gagging him. Flashes lit up the dark, bounced off the smoke and forced the old man to dodge their soundless explosions. Again the room tilted crazily.
Even as the roar returned and began to grow, the old man could hear the individual curtain fibers stretch and begin to crack, pop. A cacophony soon filled his ears. The roar began weighing his body down with its force.
Scrambling, arms outstretched, the old man searched frantically for the window. The swirling smoke broke slightly and the window appeared mistily beside him. The old man bolted towards the violently shaking window and unthinkingly dove head first over the swaying edge. Rattling wildly the wedged frame broke free and slammed down just after he had passed through. The old man fell for a time then hit the unseen surface outside hard. Lying on his back the old man could see smoke billowing from cracks in the closed window high above him and he clawed his way directly underneath the aerial frame.
Heat began to expand around him, prickling his bruised skin. The old man painfully curled himself in to a tight ball. Above him the window shook, paused as if taking in air, and then an explosion rocked him with a fury of light and sound. On both sides of the window a ball of fire spewed forth searing his prone body and singeing his hair. Glass shards became shrapnel and wood splinters torpedoed outwards searching for his body. A now deafening roar battered the old man and the images that rode the crackling flames tore at his mind, as the fire raced over him and into black space.
Underneath this conflagration, the old man huddled and uselessly covered his eyes with his hands as scenes played out in rapid succession within his head‑‑‑A naked girl sprawled before him, blood flowed from her head and streamed around her breasts. She reached out to him trying to ward off the blows that rained down upon her.....a beat cop's surprised face grimaced, his face ripped open as a bullet burrowed its way into his left cheek....lights, red and blue flashed over the old man's face....houses blocked his way like a maze....braking open, a field unfolded before him and quickly trees enshrouded him, hiding the stars....the old man could see himself sitting among the trees watching and waiting....he collided with his image and cold spilled through him.
The images and noise stalled, stuttered and froze again. A tree‑lined, starry sky replaced the blackness around the old man and began to twist slowly. Sky, then trees‑sky‑‑‑trees ‑‑‑‑‑‑ bushes, ground........bench...........ground................... ..........bushes..............................tree..............................................................................................sky.
Finally all was still and quiet.
Slowly the old man uncurled himself and stood up. He stopped halfway because the window was back in its prior position. Shuffling out from underneath he could see the frame, still smoking around the edges, floating cocked to the side like a badly hung picture. Cautiously he looked through the broken window frame.
The room now stood black as is was white and in the center a cinder laid lifelessly among burnt cloth, its life expended in one emotional outburst. The old man relaxed.
He turned and was surprised to see his exit right behind him. The stars that had filled his head earlier were now framed by the same vacant eyes that had let him in. Spreading his arms out from him, the old man gladly reach for the heavens. The stars did not move of course, but he lifted effortlessly from the lifeless body.
Hovering over the dark shape, the old man tried to inspect the face of his victim. As if asked, the moon slowly eased from behind a cloud lighting the crumpled man below him.
The body's face was stretched with agony underneath the empty eye sockets. The eye's had literally exploded from some internal force. Still leaking from the ears, blood pooled across the twisted neck and dribbled onto the ground. The jaw was locked open in a scream with red streaks on the teeth, where under the throes of a convulsion, they bit through tongue and flesh. The hands defiantly clutched the remains of the eyes.
A gasp escaped into the air. The old man snapped his eyes away from the body and took in a state trooper standing ten yards away. A standard issue gun bounced slowly off the ground and came to rest at the trooper's dusty shoes. The deputy's starchy face was half covered by his hands, which were trying to hold in that night's dinner. Looking above the body, the deputy seemed to focus on the amorphous form of the old man.
For just a second, there was eye contact.
The old man lifted his hands skyward again and diffused from the trooper's view. For the old man, the scene receded as if he was being pulled up and backwards. He closed his eyes tight, slowly opened them and found himself gazing up into the night sky back on the plateau. The old man looked straight out and found the lights still below him. They were less frantic now, more subdued, and therefore much easier to read.
The noise from below was abuzz with the discovery and the previous excitement was replaced with questioning and curiosity. Several times he could feel eyes searching his mountain side for the answer to their questions. The answer sat and listened to see if his actions had betrayed his presence. No, no betrayal. Except, maybe, to himself. The old man brought his arm up and gazed at the charred and broken curtain rod clutched in his hand, as if it had something to add.
Still breathing heavily the old man tried to inhale slowly but instead he continued to gulp the fresh air before him. Gradually, as his breathing returned to normal, the old man's eyes unfocused and he sat in thought.
A sound of crunching gravel broke his reverie. A car had pulled up on the seldom used road beneath him. Its lights cut out and it stood, like he, a sentinel over the valley.
Feeling a motion within the car, the old man opened his mind to a movement very much different than the lights. Knowledgeable, purposeful, excited and wanting‑‑twin thoughts that moved together and slowly became one. He absorbed these new feelings to relax the still boiling turmoil inside him.
He felt both their heartbeats quicken and tasted the sweet flavors both had to offer. His skin shivered with their touch as sweat broke out and slicked the bodies. Fingers traced his sides. The old man's hands clutched at the air, trying to return the soothing touch. As the two began to move he rode with them, gasped with them and, ultimately, cried out with them. Later, exhausted, he slept with them. And as they slept, they smiled with him.
