He lifted the rusty lock on the picket fence and strolled up to the porch, stopping to sit on the swing. He groaned with pleasure and pain at the same time. It wasn't the most comfortable seat, but he'd been digging all morning. It felt good to relax, all the same.
Just then Raphael came around the corner between the house and barn. He had a stiff step suggesting he was feeling particularly broody today. Not that Don blamed him. Pockets were under his eyes which were blood-shot and dry. His belt and training pads were on, but weapons were absent.
Don pretended to not even see his brother as he rocked shallowly. The supporting chains dangling from the ceiling squeaking in protest each time he changed the directions.
Raphael equally ignored his presence. He and Donny rarely talked. In fact, he felt almost uncomfortable seeing his brother just sitting there. Rocking. Not staring at any computer screens, or poking some doodad electronic with a random tool. They'd always counted on Mikey to fill in the conversational gaps. A bitter taste came to his mouth like the aftertaste of vomit as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. He gave extra care that the door might slam in his wake. It did, but he found no satisfaction in it this time.
The house was stuffy with that certain smell of old wood baking in the afternoon sun. Light cascaded over the wooden window blinds creating stripes on the ground. Tiny bits of fluff drifted serenely in the beams. It was quiet. He didn't like quiet. Raph walked heavily towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge door open. It bounced against the wall with a bang, but quiet crept in once more. He snatched a beer from the lower shelf and plopped on a chair in the neighboring room while flipping the television on.
"Now, more on a developing story of power outages in Maine-"
Click.
"You can log onto our website for more details of this product-"
Click.
Clapping. "Whoooa, whoa whoa! Praise your faith! Allll in your faith, your miiiiiracles!"
Click.
"Bad boys, bad boys, what cha want? What cha ya gonna do?"
Raph tossed the remote aside and watched the program "Cops" with mild interest. Anything to stifle the silence.
The door outside opened and closed. He heard steps directly behind him heading towards the hallway. Raph took a gulp of his beer then reached for the remote, turning the volume down slightly. When a knock echoed, and he automatically muted the television.
"Leo?"
Don's voice.
Another series of knocks. "Leo, it's Don. Will you come out for a minute?"
A long pause. Leo hadn't left that room as of yet. Not for even for food or the bathroom. Don sighed and retraced his steps, stopping to sit on another chair by Raphael. His brother had un-muted the television by now, not wanting to be subject to the shame of eves-dropping. At least, that's what Splinter had always called it. He halted that thought instantly and concentrated on the show.
Don gave neither the television nor Raph any interest. Only the floor. Hearing a small noise though, he looked up and nearly fell over in his chair seeing Leonardo. The third turtle stood there looking lost and forlorn, as if he ventured into the room and happened to forget what he came for.
Raphael glanced over as well, giving a double look before fumbling with the remote. The television cut off in mid-sentence and faded to a black screen.
"Are you alright?" Donatello spoke first.
Leo looked over, but didn't say anything.
Raph decided to try. "You can't keep hiding out like this, Leo."
It was blunt, but he always talked like that. This was no exception.
The turtle remained silent.
Don thought he may as well jump in while their leader was listening. "I, uh, just finished digging the hole," his voice lowered, "for the burial."
Raph shot his glare from Leo to Don. "Damn it Don, you knew that was something we all had to do."
Donatello had expected this. He unclasped his hands, letting his elbows rest against his knees. Then shaking his head he added, "You two are in worse shape then I am, and we couldn't have waited much longer."
"It doesn't matter."
The two turned back to Leo who had spoken for the first time.
The leader continued, "We will handle this according to Japanese ritual. He is to be cremated."
Don's brow furrowed, "But I already-"
Leo's turn to shake his head. "You should have consulted us first."
Raph interjected, "He did! Even I heard him pounding on that door at dawn, but you have your head so far up your ass-"
"Stop it!" Leo snapped, "In the past, you got away with undermining my authority Raph, but I'm in charge now. We're doing this my way. Splinter's way."
Both brothers were taken aback.
"Undermining your authority?" Raph spat, "What's that suppose to mean?!"
Don didn't like where this was going it all. He thought it would have been a collective agreement that they cared for Splinter how most people did it here in America. Lower him below the ground where he could find peace in the wilderness, and where they could visit him often. It was a perfect environment for mediation and thought in behalf of their master. He assumed wrong apparently. Don personally found the Japanese traditions strange and unnecessary. To him, they seemed to mourn the ashes rather then decease's existence. Another culture clash he wasn't in the mood to argue this time.
Leo's eyes flashed dangerously, "I won't repeat myself. We'll do it tonight at sundown."
Leonardo left no room for argument and returned to the bedroom.
"The hell?" Raph whispered under his breath turning forward again in his seat.
Don looked worried. "He's just taking it hard-"
"So what, he's our replacement sensei now? Splinter Junior?" Raph scoffed and flipped the television back on.
This discussion was obviously over.
Donatello stood, his muscles screaming in protest. All that work for nothing. He headed directly for the bathroom to shower for tonight.
The light was a hazy gray all around as the sun silently stole away.
Together, the three brothers carried the body wrapped in sheets from the hay rafters where they had safely stored it over night. It was difficult at first with their wounds, but each adjusted the weight to who could handle what. Raph and Don took most of it as Leo could only use one arm.
After a slow march, the body was placed gently in an old and abandoned cement watering trough once used for cattle. Leo lifted a stray corner of the sheet where it had fallen, and covered a lifeless cheek.
They all kneeled, Leonardo at the head, Don and Raph to the sides. Seeing that they were all settled and waiting, Leo slid his voice into a Buddhist chant spoken in Japanese. He formed the language quick and fluid, slicing in a soothing rhythm similar to a heartbeat.
Thrum-dum. Thrum-dum. Thrum-dum.
Raphael and Donatello would chorus occasionally or speak a stanza. It was all practiced and orderly, as they often began mediation with the same collection of mantras. It was a detailed praise to life, loved ones, and inner strength.
When it ended, Leo opened his eyes, as did his brothers. He gave a shallow nod and they stood formally. Raphael centered Splinter's old cane on top of the body while Donatello struck a match. He hesitantly brought the small flame closer knowing this is the last he would physically see his master. This was his good-bye. A brown spot grew steadily on the sheet soon caving into black ashes. It spread quickly, consuming the corpse in a massive fire.
The brothers watched, eyes alight. Raph trembled, clenching and unclenching a fist. Don looked to be trapped in another pensive trance, eyes locked in place. Leo was blank and neutral. They stared so long the light seemed to warp. The wind picked up suddenly, thrashing at the now dieing flames. In the sky's sigh, each felt rather then heard a voice deep within.
"Think not of me. Find your brother. Find happiness."
Michaelangelo clutched his knees, huddled in a black corner. He was no longer in that god-awful box, but a prison coated with moldy straw and dust. A salty tear slid down his face, stinging an array of wounds as it traveled down.
Something had woken him. A strange dream. His brothers had been far apart calling to each other in separate planes of his mind. Mike was running, fumbling, groping. He yelled toward them, but they continued searching. Didn't they see him here? So close! Panic surged and he screamed. Suddenly he was falling into a terrifying abyss of nothing. Not down, but plummeting in every direction all at once. An abrupt flash, and he was standing alone. A hand caressed his shoulder. He turned behind, seeing a man. He was short and muscular, obviously of Japanese decent. Yet, Mike did not know him. The stranger seemed to have materialized out of nothing as did his empty surroundings.
"Be strong," the man said in Japanese, "Honor will defend you."
Thank you all for your comments and critiques! They've been immensely encouraging and helpful. I don't think this would have been doable without you. As an extra thank you, I've begun making illustrations of this story for your viewing pleasure. Unfortunately, I can't post the link here without breaking another outlandish rule. So if you're interested, please send a review or e-mail mentioning it and I'd be happy to send them. More illustrations and Part Two will be available very soon =)