Chapter 2

Wyoming was colder than California, especially during the winter months. We needed firewood, and after the latest in a series of nightmares, it was a welcome relief to venture out into the woodlands with moldy bags and rusty axes. It took us only a short time to find a pleasant area to begin our task, or at least for Santorelli to deem the wood suitable. Jake and I weren't too bothered, and we trusted the ex-ranger's practical instincts.

I wasn't your typical ax-wielder, and neither was Jake. Santorelli spent most of the task either amused or frustrated at our swings and left no space for any emotions in-between.

"You swing like a girl, Marco!" he mocked while thrusting his ax head into a tough log. "I should buy you a pole!"

"I told you, I've never used an ax," I grumbled. "I never needed to." I placed my right hand at the neck of the tool and swung it wildly over my head. It thumped into a comparatively thin branch, breaking it in half.

Jake insisted that I join them. He had been watching me closely ever since I lost control of a morph in an Andalite cell in Idaho. I hadn't been myself, to be perfectly honest, and he was probably right to be concerned. I didn't have to like it, and I didn't. I wanted to feel confident in my ability to keep my head straight.

"I love it out here," Santorelli chimed. "Bitter air, shit food."

"What's so good about it?" I asked, using my foot to adjust the position of another log, readying to attack it.

"Brings people together," he explained. "You find out who your friends are."

I caught Jake glancing away awkwardly. He would keep his opinions to himself on this occasion. I could only imagine thoughts of Jeanne were cycling through his mind.

"How about leaky ceilings?" I asked. "Does that bring people together?"

"It sure brought you closer to Mendy the other night."

I recalled waking up with Menderash on my mattress. I also recalled kicking him in the head. "Technically closer," I muttered. "We need to stop that leak, and quick."

"We can't send Ely up there," Jake said. "We'll do it when we get back. Besides, he does too much. He isn't a servant anymore."

Santorelli slammed down on another log. "That guy's amazin'. Moves like a slug but gets everythin' done."

"Why do you think I hired him? He uses some kind of voodoo magic or something," I said.

"Did he have a wife back in Cali?" Santorelli asked.

I shook my head. "Nah, she died a few years ago. Cancer, or something. I've seen pictures, though. She was hot when she was young. Hot with a capital wow."

"Damn!" Santorelli laughed. "You gotta show me someday. You know, that's the one thing I miss."

Jake was taking a break, leaning on the base of his ax. "Butler wives?" he joked.

"No, man," Santorelli replied, joining him in the lazy moment. "The chicks! Santa Barbara was full of 'em!"

Jake shrugged. "I hardly noticed."

Santorelli snorted. "Where'd you get the degree in bullshit, prof? Come on! You can't tell me that you didn't get your fair share. What girl in this world doesn't want a taste of Jake Berenson?"

"Sorry to disappoint," he said with a shrug. "I had my mind on other things."

"You know what? I believe that," I uttered. "I never saw you with anyone."

Santorelli was in total disbelief and searched for any hint of a positive answer. "There's got to be somethin', boss! No one catch your eye?"

I expected another blank, but he gazed down at the ax he leaned on instead. He waited. "There was one girl…" he started. "Nothing, really."

"Tell us, boss," Santorelli insisted.

"Yeah," I agreed, wondering why he'd never told me. "Tell us."

He flicked a hand dismissively. "I just finished teaching a class; stayed a little longer to mark an assignment. I sorta lost track of time, and the next class started to arrive. They were psychiatry students. I didn't want to be in the way, so I threw everything in my bag and went for the door. I bumped into this girl, and she dropped her papers."

"I see where this is goin'," Santorelli interjected eagerly.

"I helped her pick up the papers, and we got talking," he continued. "We arranged to meet again for dinner later that night." He looked down regretfully. "I got so caught up in my work that I forgot all about it. We bumped into each other again a few days later, but she wouldn't even say hi. And she was beautiful. I'd never seen anyone like her."

Santorelli suddenly lifted from his slouched stance. "Psychiatrist, huh? Blonde?"

"Yeah." Jake nodded.

"Wears a red scarf and big brown coat?"

Again, Jake nodded.

"Man, I think I know her! Katie Melbourne!"

"You know her?" Jake asked.

"Yeah! Of course I do! She was some kinda woman…"

I raised an eyebrow. "How well did you know her?"

"I dated her."

Jake and I exchanged looks. "And what happened?" I asked.

He thought about it and then laughed. "I got into a fight with some guy who said I looked like a potato. When I turned around, she was gone. What can I say? I wasn't gonna take shit from some asshole."

I couldn't quite believe it. I was so amused by it that I simply had to mention my own encounter. It was too crazy not to. "I, uh… Yeah, I dated her, too."

"What?!" they both exclaimed simultaneously.

I uttered the smallest of laughs. "Funny, huh? Blonde, red scarf. Katie. I met her in a bar and bought her some drinks."

"Weren't you with that model?" Santorelli asked. "I forgot her name."

"I forgot it, too," I admitted. "That was business. It wasn't real. I guess when I brought Katie home, I hadn't explained that to her."

We all took a moment to accept how pathetic we must have all looked. At least we were alone.

"Small world," Santorelli hummed before steadying himself once again for another swing of the ax.

We finished up with overflowing bags and made the short journey home. It took my mind off everything, and I guess that's what I needed. I somehow felt closer to them, even if I had known them both for so long. You never learn everything about anybody, not even those closest. Realizing that we all tried and failed with the same girl was, in a way, hilarious but also very telling. I wasn't sure what it said. It was something.

We barged through the newly painted front door. It was deep green now, just like everything else within a hundred-mile radius. Time to eat. I was eager to see what Ely had prepared for lunch with his meager rations. He was skilled at more than just dusting and cleaning.

We dropped the bags of firewood in the living room, and the scent of food cooking in the kitchen caught everybody's taste buds. I took the lead, heading for the door to the kitchen with Ely and Menderash's trivial discussion coming through as a muffled drone. I couldn't wait to get a taste of that food and maybe a nice hot drink to warm me before we got a fire going.

"We're back!" I announced as I turned the door handle. "I hope it's not rice again!"

I pushed open the door to the kitchen, and there, to the right, was the giant bladed figure of a Hork-Bajir, mere feet away.

I lost my breath and stumbled back, colliding against the door. My body flooded with dread, then calmed as quickly as it had begun. My eyes blurred, and my hearing became distant. I fe-