13 Into the Fire

With my sweaty palms braced against the dashboard, I guided Hiero through back roads as I mapped various routes in my head. Ever vigilant, Mary watched out the back window with her heightened vision as the truck bounced towards Tamarac, declaring that she had not seen our pursuers since turning off the highway. When the paved road turned to gravel, releasing a cloud of dust, I knew we were very close to our destination.

Watching the rising dust dissipating high behind us, I asked, "Will the cloud give us away?"

Mary shrugged. "Not sure, but we're almost home." She pointed to a junction ahead and said to Hiero, "Turn left onto the next gravel road. In a couple miles, there will be another left. Our friend should be waiting for us at the end of the final turn."

"Our friend the horse?" I asked.

"Of course," replied Mary with a smile.

As we approached the final left turn, the front of a black sedan began to pull out the narrow trail. The car began turning slowly away from us when it stopped hard, presuming noticing our approach.

Hiero slammed on the brakes as he cursed. "How did they know where to find us?"

"It's my fault," I said with the sudden realization. "They probably gathered all the information they could from state and local police computers. At the end of that dirt trail, the one they just exited, is where my car was abandoned."

Mary turned to Hiero. "He's right. They have everyone's life locked up in their computers. Their lives are open books and susceptible to anyone with power."

I glanced out the back of the pickup. "No one is behind us. Maybe we can lose them in a dust cloud. There are a lot of forks in the road."

Hiero turned off the engine. "No."

As the sedan reversed and turned to face us, Mary shared a look with her friend before letting her sharpened gaze drift out towards the approaching sedan. Taking a deep breath, she said to Hiero in a calm, steady tone, "I'm with you."

My heart raced as sweat began to run down my back. "What are saying?"

Mary's focus remained on the sedan as the vehicle stopped a stone's throw away. "I don't run from men like these."

"They have guns. We need to turn this truck around. If they take us into custody, we'll disappear forever."

"No," said Hiero. "If they want a fight, we'll give it to them."

Looking past Hiero, I saw the forest I called home. I knew it better than any other place on earth. I gripped Mary's arm and pulled her close. "Let's run through the forest. I'm sure we could lose them on foot."

Mary placed her hand over mine. "I'm sure we could, and if these men were simply police doing their job, I would run through the forest with you, but these men need to be confronted."

Gazing into her eyes, I sensed her bravery, her determination. I pleadingly shook my head only to receive a gentle squeeze of her hand as she focused again on the sedan.

After several agonizing seconds, Hiero sighed heavily. "What are they waiting for?"

Mary shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Reinforcements," I said. "They don't do anything unless they have superior numbers. We are in the middle of nowhere. I doubt they will do anything until the others show up."

Leaning forward, Hiero asked me. "What would they do if we got out of the truck?"

"Run you over. I don't know."

Mary shook her head. "Their egos are too big. They would break protocol and get out the sedan to face us. I'm sure of it."

A wry smile stretched across Hiero's face. "Ready?"

Mary nodded her response before turning to me. "Stay in the truck and stay low. The engine should protect you if they should start shooting."

"You're crazy."

Mary smiled faintly. "Maybe a little. Stay as low as possible."

Hiero opened his door and exited slowly, Mary following close behind. When they stepped in front of the pickup truck, the sedan turned on its high beams to blind them.

The ample legroom of the old truck allowed me to slide off the bench seat to the floor. As I lowered most of my body below the dashboard, my hands trembled violently. Peering over the dashboard into the blinding light, I could only make out the shadows of my two friends, the sedan and two agents completely masked.

As predicted by Mary, the agents broke protocol as the sound of their car doors indicated their existing, leaving me to assume that the men stood behind those open doors with guns drawn.

The agents began shouting their commands, declaring that if we surrendered now that no one would be hurt, that their fellow agents would soon arrive. They ordered Hiero and Mary to lie on the ground, but neither of my two friends moved. Then the distinct sounds of two handguns being prepared to fire sent a tremor through my body. The agents again warned that they would shoot if Hiero and Mary did not follow orders.

My friends began to sidestep in opposite directions, their shadows parting before me as each moved towards opposite sides of the road. The agent's voices became enraged, restating vigorously that they would shoot to kill. Keeping my focus on Mary's shadow, I gasped when she suddenly disappeared, the forest brush outside the passenger window swept in her wake.

Gunshots erupted, and I ducked for cover onto the floor of the pickup truck. Unlike the movies, the distinct crack of each gunshot cut through the air much louder than expected, stinging my ears, causing my body to tremble with fear as bullets struck the solid parts of the old pickup like hammers.

As quickly as the cacophony had begun, the gunshots abruptly stopped with the sounds of heavy thumps, followed by the screams of the two agents. One man perhaps attempted to speak into a radio of some sort, but a following hard thump interrupted his words as the man screamed out in pain a second time. Scrambling out from the floor of the pickup, I tumbled out the passenger door onto the ground. When I stepped out of the blinding light of the sedan, I found Mary choking one of the federal agents with one hand as she shoved forest grass in the man's face.

Mary lifted the man by his throat before slamming him back onto the ground, yelling, "Eat it!" Using her extraordinary strength, she slammed the man against the earth a second time before shoving more grass into his mouth.

I ran forward and reached for her arms. "Mary, stop. He's done."

Mary pushed me away with such force that I flew off my feet and landed on my back. Snarling at the agent, she next struck the man on the forehead with the palm of her hand, stunning him further. "It's not done until I say it is!" Her hand tightened around the man's throat. When the agent tried to gasp for air, she shoved the wild grass again into his bloodied mouth.

Paralyzed by the terror unfolding before me, I watch helplessly as Hiero lifted his opponent high into the air, slamming him hard onto the ground, which rendered the agent unconscious before the lights of the sedan. Hiero then calmly reached into the car from the opened door and turned off the headlights, including the engine.

I scrambled forward and reached for Mary's arm, but this time I prepared myself for her push back. I gripped tight as she tried pushing my away. Though she could toss me around like a rag doll, I did not let go. "Mary, look at me! Stop it!"

Mary froze as her eyes glared into mine.

Slumping to my knees, I held my grip on her arm. "You can hate them all you want, but please, don't become one of them. Please, don't hurt them." When Mary again jerked her arm, I continued to hold firm.

Mary continued to look into my pleading eyes as her armed twitched once more, halfheartedly. She stopped trying to shake me loose as her eyes began to well. She slowly glanced down at battered man. "He's one of them. He's no different."

When the battered agent coughed, blood and grass spilled from his mouth, and the sight caused me recall the first events of the Dakota War. Standing to my feet, I took a more consolatory hold of Mary's arm as she too returned to her feet. When her eyes met mine, I asked, "When the war started, were you the one that shoved the grass into the mouth of the governmental trader that stole from the Sioux."

Mary's breathing had calmed slightly as she candidly looked at me. "Yes. The trader was already dead when I shoved grass into his mouth. He was the one that told use to..." Overcome with emotion, Mary gazed down at the coughing agent.

I gripped both of Mary's hands and gave them a supporting squeeze. "He was the man that told the Sioux to eat grass or their own dung if they were starving. But this agent here is not that government trader from the 1860s."

"He's just like them. The way he looks at others, the condescending tone, he's just another tyrannical bastard. No one should have that much power over someone else." Mary wiped her eyes. "I use to think that was why the colonist first came from Europe, to be free from another's abuse, but I now understand that they came here to have things their way, to be able to force their views on others. Things never change."

When I felt her muscles tense with rage, I pulled her close and kissed her. Her lips felt taut, but I continued to press mine to hers until her mouth began to relax. Following suit, our bodies pressed together as my hands drifted to her hips and around her waist. When I felt her mouth begin to reciprocate, my heart swelled with joy.

When our lips parted, I whispered, "I remember now. This morning, just before you rescued me, I recalled that dream where we first kissed. I know now that you had somehow visited me in my dream, that it was more than a simple dream; it was real at the same time. I have loved you with all my heart for some time now, and didn't even realize it until today."

Wide eyed, Mary lovingly touched my face, brushing my hair to the side. "I'm so glad you remember. I've loved you ever since that night. I didn't want to tell you. I wanted you to remember on your own."

"How did you visit me in my dream?"

Mary smiled. "At the motel, do you remember finding something that had been slipped under your door?"

Recalling that night, my brow furled as I recalled finding what I thought to be a cheap motel souvenir on the floor. "The dream catcher?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Dream catchers work both ways," she said.

"To catch the dreamer?"

"Yes," replied Mary. "When you rode through the blue bells that day, the pollen you inhaled put you into a deeper slumber, allowing me to visit more easily."

Recalling that I left the dream catcher on the simple writing desk, I said, "I didn't hang the dream catcher over the bed."

"It only had to be in the same room," said Mary, appearing more at ease.

"I should have said something on the drive up, but I thought it best to wait until we were alone. I remember all of it. I remember how we talked all night. I remember our first kiss. I just thought it was a dream and let it fade into my subconscious."

The bloodied agent coughed as he rolled slowly onto his stomach. He retched onto the ground and then proceeded to crawl away.

Mary's fervor returned to her eyes, but she remained at my side as she simply watched the man crawl. When the man scrambled slowly to his feet, she asked, "What do you suggest we do about him?"

Before I could answer, Hiero swooped in and punched the disorientated man across the face, knocking the agent unconscious. Hiero stood over the still man, staring intently at his face. After several seconds, Hiero turned to Mary and asked, "Should I blast him?"

As Mary gnawed her lip, I glanced at both before asking, "What's blasting?"

Mary gently squeezed my hand as her gaze continued to soften. "I'll tell you later once you're safe," she said. She turned to Hiero. "Don't blast him. Just leave them both."

"As you wish, my dear." Hiero began inspecting his knuckles. "May I suggest we skedaddle before their friends show up."

Mary however did not move or reply to Hiero's suggestion, for she simply stared vengefully at the unconscious man as her face began to harden.

I stepped before her and kissed her again. I kissed her with growing confidence and sensed a more rapid softening of her mouth. My face flushed with mixed emotions as I pressed my forehead to hers. "The world constantly changes; it always will. It destroyed all that you beheld when the Europeans rolled across this continent. My world too has changed, and it no longer has a place for me; I no longer feel part of this world. All I want now is to be with you. I know you desire vengeance, but leave these men be. Please, Mary, take me back to the lake where I can be washed clean. Take me to the fields of honest work where I can be harmonious with nature. I want to be where thoughts are not feared and the spirit is free. I want to be with you. Mary, take me home."

All the anger seemed to evaporate from Mary. A tear rolled from her eye, falling harmlessly from her cheek to her blouse. Without saying another word, she took my hand and began walking with me along the dirt trail. Within less than a mile, we found the white horse waiting for us at the prearranged location.

With plenty of room atop the magnificent beast, we traveled the path of the bluebells, the fading twilight behind us. With Mary in the middle, I snuggly held onto her as I bobbed uneasily on the swaying hips of the horse.

Leaning forward, I inhaled deeply the woodland scent of her hair and smiled, my thoughts constantly returning to our recent kiss—and more. I unabashedly began to think of all the things I wanted to do with her once we reached the lake. Though I did not care if she read my mind, I did begin to worry that my current thoughts were too carnal—perhaps too soon. Mostly, I wanted her to know how much I wanted to fall asleep in her arms, to get up in the morning when my body felt like stirring, to live free, to love, to become a spirit of a different sort.

Mary laid her hand atop my thigh and gave it a squeeze, she peered over her shoulder and purred, her thoughts filling my head. I know, and not too soon. She then silently relayed all the things she wanted to do with me.

Hiero began to chuckle. "Can you two hold off a bit longer, or shall I ask our friend to quicken his pace?"

When we reached the lake, Hiero dropped us off at the beach where we began to wash the day's sweat from our bodies…and from one another. After our kisses had progressed to much more, we collapsed onto the sand, exhausted. With the water lapping at our feet, we laughed and cried in each other's arms. We were happy; we were where we belonged; we were home.

Later, in the middle of the night, we decided to retire to the cabin to sleep peacefully in Mary's bed. As we approached the porch, we found Graham sitting on an old wicker couch with a scantily clothed Ekko laying lengthwise, her head comfortably resting on the man's lap. The cheerful man reached into a bowl of grapes and fed one to his friend, her eyes closed, her hand gently waving in the air as if listening to music that only she could hear. When Graham spotted us coming up from the lake, his smile grew. "I knew you'd be back."

"That I am. I can safely say that I'm here for good."

"Well then, welcome home," he said. "Welcome to my world."

Epitaph

Settling into my new home, I acclimated quicker than most, soaking up as much knowledge as possible. I become captivated by their intricate star charts and found their acoustic music addicting, which would eventually lead me to learn piano from Silkie. Once I evolved further, I truly was able to listen to music for the first time, the magic I cannot yet put into words.

Ekko taught me the intricacies of fruits, explaining how the sunlight had been captured within: trace amounts of energy converted temporarily into a matter state, unleashed once consumed.

My friend Tara taught me how to dance with a swarm of bees, and Hiero guided me through the dangers of time berries.

Though my impression of these people was that of pacifists, I quickly learned that they could become quite angry at one another, to the point that bloody challenges were declared; but like any true family, there would be a lull followed by reconciliation. (Nevertheless, Graham has more concisely told this story.)

And despite their sharing natures, jealousy occasionally reared its ugly head, for you see, these spirits of a different sort never truly lose all their human origins, evident by the unflattering traits that would resurface from time to time.

One of my more special moments happened a couple weeks after my return. Mary shared with me her real name and later, helped me discover my own, which I immediately bestowed to her.

Mary always remained in my forethought no matter what exciting discoveries awaited me in this most magical land. Mary and I had ups and downs like every couple, but as Hiero once described our pairing; we were two molecules destined for a grand collision that would release an almighty energy, creating a bond only found in dreams.

It was not long until I began to feel the mischief that the others occasionally felt. This mischief forced many to look for trouble, causing some—like Hiero—to visit the old world to play tricks on the humans. (I cannot tell you where my mischief led me, not yet anyway.)

Time is bountiful in this land with many days simply spent lying about, enjoying the simplest pleasures of life. Often, Mary and I would find a cozy spot amongst the sunflowers to bath in the sun and talk. From our sanctuary on the hill, we had a clear view of the lake, and here we sometimes remained through the night.

It was during one of these days when Mary informed me how monarch butterflies actually migrate from Canada to Mexico. Astounded by the secret, I lay speechless in her arms until we returned to the cabin to change our clothes, for a harvest celebration had been planned to occur at the beach. As we dressed in the ramshackle house, we heard the whinny of white horse. Mary and I went out onto the porch to find Hiero riding up with a young woman. The woman—perhaps in her twenties—sat before the man.

Mary smiled warmly at our new guest. "Hello."

"Hello," replied the young woman.

Sounding overly exuberant, Hiero said to the woman, "Wait for me, my dear. I'll help you down." He jumped off the horse and immediately began assisting the woman.

I gave Hiero a cautious look. "Weren't you nervous about returning to that world so soon? I'm guessing we're still wanted fugitives, despite the twenty or so years that may have passed."

Hiero nodded. "I'm sure we are still wanted thanks to all that wonderful technology of theirs, but I didn't go to Minnesota."

"England?"

"Nope."

I began to feel the stare of our new arrival. Her eyes were wide as she smiled nervously. When Mary gasped subtly, I began to feel uneasy. I turned to the young woman and gave her a second look, but she remained silent. My attention returned to Hiero as I searched for clues. "Won't Tara become jealous if she finds you with a new friend so soon?"

Hiero pulled the riding blanket from the horse's back. "Tara knows that my feelings for her haven't waned a bit. I love everyone with all my heart."

"Well then, aren't you going to formally introduce us to your new friend?"

"No need."

"No need?" I returned my gaze to the young woman. When I realized that she was waiting for something, I began to look for a fine detail in her look or demeanor that would trigger my memory.

Hiero rested a hand upon my shoulder. "She's not here for me, she's here for you."

When I turned to Mary, she confirmed Hiero's words with a simple nod.

Hiero began following the horse to the stables. "Since you adapted to our world so quickly, I became curious; so I went to see if it was genetic."

My mouth fell open as I turned to the young woman.

The young woman walked up to me and reached for my hand. She kissed it and said, "Hello, father."

The End

Author's Note:

After reading Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce, I was stunned that I had not learned of this story prior—or of the author Graham Joyce. After all, my family and friends know of my love for contemporary fantasies, and yet, it would be a free book credit needing to be spent that would lead me to this most delightful story.

Google for the book review posted by The Guardian.

With most of my fan fiction focused on the Hunger Games, I needed to find a fresh venue in which to play. I thought the endless subplot possibilities and cast of eccentric characters in Some Kind of Fairy Tale would be the perfect playground for fan fiction, but I would soon discover that I was alone with this thought, for there exists zero fanfic for this novel.

I then experienced the worst shock when I discovered that Graham Joyce had died a few months prior from lymphoma.

The Guardian wrote a fitting obituary that can be easily found: "Graham Joyce, much-loved fantasy author, dies aged 59"

Stephen King called him "a truly great novelist", adding: "Too soon. Far too soon."

After reading his obituary—and weeping, I proceeded to dive into many of his other books: The Tooth Fairy, Dark Sister, and The Year of the Ladybird to name a few.

While reading his last book, I became determined to write fan fiction for Some Kind of Fairy Tale even if I may be alone in this endeavor.

If you have not read Some Kind of Fairy Tale, please do. You won't regret it.

Thank you, Graham, for all the wonderful stories.