Sentinel - Progression Series 11 Pilgrimage Part 2 Page 4

  “Hey, sounds like a good idea to me! Maybe I'll change my subject, too!"

  Blair closed his eyes as the sound of the boys' laughter echoed within him, laughter that was soon to be silenced by three men with guns.

  “Close your eyes, Professor.”

  Blair’s gaze darted to the boys kneeling beside him along the lonely stretch of road, his wrists straining against the tape binding his arms behind his back, keeping him helpless.

  What’s going to happen to them? To all of us?

  But now he knew the answer. In a brief span of time, their lives had been forever lost and his own sense of peace and security had been shattered.

  Why did they have to die? Why did I live? And what do I do now? What does Incacha want? What do I want?

  A low whine drew his attention. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at the wolf. It lay on the shore, its head resting between its two front paws, its half-open eyes locked on Blair. It was the first time he’d seen the animal since the meeting with Incacha the day before and he couldn’t be sure, but Blair thought the animal seemed to be in worse shape today. As if sensing his thoughts, the wolf shivered violently and let out a soft whimper.

  The pain in the sound seemed to match the pain that gripped Blair’s heart and to echo the grief he’d been unable to release since waking in the hospital. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, uncertain exactly who he was apologizing to--the wolf who was ill because of his indecision, the boys who had died while in his care, or his sentinel who was trapped in this world with him.

  Seconds later the panther emerged from the covering of the trees and loped over to the wolf. The slick black beast nuzzled the fur around the ears of the sick beast, urging it to its feet. Together, the two animals disappeared into the forest and Blair was once again alone.

  Wiping tears from his cheeks that he hadn’t even realized he’d shed, Blair turned a determined gaze back to the water all around him. He needed to concentrate on what he could do, not dwell on what couldn’t be changed. It took him only minutes to catch three large trout--more than enough food for both himself and Jim.

  Fish in hand, Blair headed back to where he’d left his sleeping partner. But as he stepped out of the trees, he was greeted by the last thing he’d expected to see--Jim was on his knees, his body curled forward, his hands pressed over his ears, his face screwed up in pain.

  “Jim!” Blair shouted, dropping the fish and rushing to his partner’s side. “Jim, what’s wrong?” But as he pounded across the hard ground, the sentinel cringed with every move he made, every word he spoke. And suddenly Blair knew what was wrong--Jim’s hearing was out of control. Instantly, he dropped his pitch, his tone, his volume, and slowed his steps.

  Moving quietly to his partner’s side, he lay a gentle hand on his back. The reaction was instantaneous...and totally unexpected. Jim lunged forward, away from the touch, his eyes widening as if in sudden pain. Collapsing on his side, he lay still, his eyes squeezed closed again, his hands still pressed to his ears.

  Blair stepped back, raising his hands away from his partner, afraid for a moment to even breathe.

  It’s not just his hearing…it’s his sense of touch, too.

  And as the realization of what was happening to Jim sunk in, Blair knew he had to act quickly. His friend was in agony, his body overwhelmed by both sound and feel.

  Slowly, carefully, Blair crouched down beside Jim. He reached toward him but stopped, his hand hovering just inches above his partner’s trembling shoulder. Leaning down, his lips just above Jim’s still-covered ears, he said, “Just breathe,” so softly he couldn’t even hear the words himself.

  The sentinel cringed, his body shuddering in obvious pain, his hands pressing harder against the sides of his head.

  “Breathe and find the dials.”

  Jim shuddered again, but the trembling seemed less pronounced.

  “That’s it,” Blair coaxed, raising his voice just slightly, testing the sentinel’s progress. When Jim simply lay still, Blair knew he was regaining control. Tentatively, he reached out and lay a hand against Jim’s back. Relief washed through him when Jim didn't pull away or cringe. “You’re doing great, man. Just keep breathing.” He moved his hand in slow circles over his friend’s back, trying to help him relax further.

  Within moments, Jim’s eyes opened, his hands fell away from his ears, and he blinked up at Blair, who still crouched over him.

  “Is that better?” Blair asked.

  “Yeah,” Jim managed. “Yeah, it’s better.”

  Blair smiled down at him and, gripping his arm, helped him into a sitting position. Jim made a move to get to his feet, but Blair restrained him with gentle hands. “Just take it easy, man. Your body’s all stressed right now. You need to just sit here for a while, relax, and let things calm down.”

  Jim ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “That is definitely not the best way to wake up in the morning.” He looked at Blair again. “Thanks.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Just doing my job.”

  Jim nodded, but the lines of worry around his eyes didn't disappear. Instead, they increased as Jim frowned, his head cocking to the side. “Sandburg?”

  Blair moved closer, apprehension tightening his stomach. Something's wrong… “You okay, man? Is your hearing going off-line again? Just grab the dials--”

  “No, it’s not that,” Jim cut in, his voice strained. “My hearing's not out of control. It’s normal.”

  “That’s good, Jim. That’s what we want.”

  “No, Blair, it’s normal...as in not heightened.” Reaching down, Jim grabbed up a handful of dirt and sifted it between his fingers. “And my sense of touch,” he said, scooping up another handful, repeating the process. “It’s gone, too. I can’t feel the different granules in this sand. I can’t--” His gaze darted up to Blair. Panic danced behind the blue depths and before Blair knew what was happening, Jim reached out and placed his hand flat against his chest, over his heart. “I can’t feel it.” His hand moved slightly to the left, searching. “I can’t feel it. Sandburg, yesterday I couldn’t hear your heart beat and now I can’t feel it, either.”

  “Jim, just calm down," Blair urged. "It’s beating.”

  “Then why can’t feel it?” Jim demanded, his tone urgent.

  “Because of this place,” Blair said, gesturing around him. He was surprised by Jim’s reaction. He knew his partner occasionally listened to his heartbeat, used it to gauge his mood, check his health, but he didn't believe there was anything about the sound that was actually necessary to the sentinel. “This place is just messing with your senses. You’ll be fine once we get out of here.” He lifted Jim’s hand from where it still rested against his chest and squeezed it tightly. “Trust me, man. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Jim nodded, but the haunted uncertainty didn't leave his eyes.

  “I caught us some fish,” Blair said, hoping to change the subject to something less disturbing. He glanced back at the trout he’d dropped when he first entered the camp. “Why don’t we check out your sense of taste, huh?”

  Jim sat cross-legged in front of the small fire Sandburg had built and watched his partner pull the cooked fish from the flame. Cocking his head ever so slightly, not wanting his guide to notice the gesture, he tried desperately to hear Blair’s heartbeat. But just like every other time he had tried, it just was not there.

  He’d told Sandburg once that after years of living and working with him, he could now distinguish the sound of his heartbeat from all others. But he’d never told his partner just how much he listened to that sound. Or how deeply he had come to rely on it to help calm him or reassure him.

  If that was now lost to him.…

  “Here you go, Jim.”

  He looked up, drawn away from his dark thoughts by the sound of his guide’s voice. Blair was holding out a large portion of his morning catch, the tempting filet still wrapped in the large leaves he had used to cook it in. “Smells g
ood, Chief,” he said as he accepted the food.

  “Hope it is,” Blair muttered, settling down with his own portion of the fish.

  Jim stared at his meal, his stomach rumbling with need. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until this moment. “I still can’t believe you caught these trout with a spear-thingie, Chief.”

  “I keep trying to tell you, man--traditional methods aren't to be scoffed at.”

  "You just may be right about that.” Jim pulled off a large portion of the fish and stuffed it into his mouth. “Because this tastes great.” Sandburg had gathered up a variety of herbs he’d found in the surrounding area to flavor the fish and as Jim chewed, he used his unaffected taste buds to enjoy every last one of them.

  “This really is incredible,” he enthused around another mouthful. But as he smiled over at his partner, he realized Blair wasn’t eating. Instead, the young man sat staring into the fire, his gaze distant, troubled. It was an expression Jim had seen much too often in the last two weeks. He’s thinking about those kids again. And as Jim eased another piece of fish into his mouth, he realized why. Blair had been planning to teach those kids to fish using a Cree spear--a spear much like the one he’d used today--once they'd reached the Indian reservation. But that had never happened.

  “Blair,” he began, uncertain if this was really the best time to bring the subject up, but unable to sit by and watch his silent pain any longer, “at some point you're going to have to put what happened to those boys behind you. You have to move on with your life.”

  “I know,” Blair whispered, his gaze never leaving the fire.

  “You may know it, but you’re not doing it.”

  Blair exhaled a deep, rattling breath. “I keep seeing them, Jim. Seeing them the way they were that day.”

  Jim’s brow creased in confusion. “Seeing the men who attacked you?”

  “No,” he breathed. “Seeing those three boys.” Reaching up, Blair touched the skin around his eyes as if the marks left by the duct tape were still there. “I told you they put the tape on me first.” His gaze darted briefly to Jim before returning to the flames. But even that small glimpse into his partner’s pain-filled eyes was enough to tear at Jim’s heart.

  “Before they put the tape on me,” he continued, his voice low, nearly inaudible in the stillness of the morning, “I looked at the students one last time. They had made us kneel along the edge of the road, side by side. Andrew was next to me, then Stanley beside him and then Peter at the far end. When I looked at them...they were so afraid.” Once again, his gaze darted to Jim. “I think they knew,” he said, guilt now adding itself to the pain in his eyes. “I think they knew they were going to die. I could see it on their faces--the fear, the disbelief. And Peter…he was crying, very softly, trying not to, but he was crying and …and I keep wondering…did they choose to kill him first because of that? Because, somehow it annoyed them?”

  Jim stared into the fire, visualizing the scene his partner had just described. To Jim, all he would ever know of that moment was what Blair could tell him, but to his partner the scene was a painful, vivid memory that the young man would carry forever. “Blair, you can’t dwell on that moment,” he offered.

  “I'll always think about that last moment, Jim. That last glimpse I had of those three boys. I just…I can’t get away from it.”

  Jim stared at his partner, at the lost and hopeless expression that had been lurking just behind his eyes since he had first regained consciousness in the hospital. He had to find a way of reaching him.

  “Blair,” he began softly, “if Stan or Andrew or Peter had lived and you had died, what would you want for them?”

  Blair shook his head, rubbing at tired eyes. “I know where you’re going with this, man.”

  “Then answer my question. What would you want for them?”

  “I wouldn’t want them to dwell on my death,” he said simply.

  “What else?” Jim pressed.

  Blair’s eyes narrowed slightly and Jim knew he was actually considering the question, not just trying to come up with something he thought Jim would want to hear. “I would want them to have a good life,” he said after a time. “To know that I didn’t blame them for what happened, that I was just glad they survived.”

  “And you think they’d want any less for you?” Jim asked when his guide fell silent again.

  Blair shifted his gaze to Jim, seemed to almost study the older man. “I think what they wanted was to live,” he said finally. But despite the morose words, the pain darkening his eyes seemed to have diminished a bit.

  “Eli told me that he wishes he'd never asked you to take that trip with those boys. He wishes he'd gone himself.”

  Blair shook his head, his mouth pulling into a deep frown. “How could he say that? Jim, if Dr. Stoddard had been on that trip, he would be dead right now.”

  Jim reached out and grabbed Blair's chin with his fingers, holding tightly. “He said it because he would give anything to take away this pain and guilt that you’re feeling…including taking your place on that trip.”

  Blair closed his eyes. “I wish now I’d talked to Professor Stoddard before we left,” he admitted softly.

  Jim dropped his hand away but kept his gaze locked on his partner. When Blair opened his eyes again and looked up at him, Jim shrugged. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I just feel so...ashamed.” Blair ran a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. “He put me in charge of those kids. He sent me off with them and…and they didn’t come home again. I let him down in the worst possible way.”

  “What happened was not your fault. You know he doesn’t blame you, that he’s just worried about you. So why avoid him?”

  Blair was silent for a long time, so long that Jim was beginning to think that he wasn’t going to answer at all.… “Dr. Stoddard told you that he thinks of me as a son,” Blair finally said, his voice rough. “Well, he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Naomi, for whatever reason, chose not to tell me who my father was. And it never really bothered me, not that much. I never really felt like I was missing out on anything.

  “But when I got to Rainier…. I don’t know, Jim….” His voice trailed off as he let out a long, frustrated breath. “I was sixteen and for the first time in my life, I was scared. I was at least two years younger than any of the other students and I didn't know anyone. Naomi had volunteered to live near the university the first few years I was in school, but I told her she didn’t have to. I’d picked Rainier. She hadn’t. For her to live in Cascade for a couple of years…I just didn’t think that would be fair to her.”

  “You were sixteen,” Jim stated incredulously. “Even if it was just for two years, you could have asked her to stay. That wouldn’t have made you selfish, Chief, it would have made you human.”

  Blair looked up at him again. “Jim, we were never anywhere for more than six months. You think my mom could have lived in Cascade for two years?” He shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. “Besides, I kind of knew that it was time for us to follow our own paths, separate from one another. I was going to be somewhere for several years getting my degree and she was going to go back on the road.”

  “So, she just left you there.”

  “I told her that’s what I wanted. I was fine, Jim. Honestly, I was. There was so much going on at school, so much to see and learn that that’s what I concentrated on. Not the fact that I was alone.” He dropped his gaze to the ground again, his fingers tracing slow circles in the dirt. “But I’ll tell you, man, when I met Dr. Stoddard everything changed.” A tender smile pulled at his lips as he continued. “I always loved anthropology, thought it was exciting, and I’d read all kinds of books on it when I was a kid. But there was never anyone I could share that passion with until Dr. Stoddard.

  “I could talk to him for hours and he never seemed to get sick of listening to me.” He looked up at Jim and smiled shyly. “A lot
of other people did...including my mom. But all of a sudden I had someone who welcomed my conversation. Can you imagine that? Someone who didn’t get sick of listening to me talk.”

  Jim returned the smile but remained silent, allowing his partner to tell his story without interruption.

  “He changed my life in so many ways,” Blair continued, smiling more broadly now. “Sometimes I'd spend weekends at his house and more than once we took trips together, just the two of us. He showed me things out in the field that I could have never learned in a book or a classroom. But more than anything, we talked. Not always about anthropology either. Just about whatever was on our minds. I loved those talks, man,” he finished softly.

  As Blair’s words sunk in, Jim was surprised to find out just how important, how influential, Eli Stoddard had been in his partner’s life. And in that moment, as he stared at the young man beside him, he realized for the first time how much Blair had given up for him when he'd turned down Eli’s invitation to join him in Borneo.

  “I’m glad he’s back in Cascade, Blair,” Jim said when the silence between them stretched out too long.

  Blair nodded. “Yeah. So am I.”

  “Then talk to him,” Jim prodded.

  “What am I supposed to say?” Blair whispered fiercely. “I mean, I’ve let all this time pass, I’ve ignored his calls….” His voice trailed off as he shook his head. “I’ve ruined everything.”

  “Blair, you haven’t ruined anything,” Jim assured him. “Eli wants to hear from you, that’s all he wants. To talk to you and know you’re okay.”

  Blair nodded, biting at his trembling lower lip.

  Reaching out, Jim gripped his shoulder, squeezing tightly. “So will you call him? When we get out of this place, once we’re back home? Will you call him?”

  “Yeah,” Blair breathed. “Yeah, I will.” He looked up at Jim, his eyes tinged with the first bit of hope the sentinel had seen in weeks. “Thanks, man.”

  Jim smiled warmly at him. “For what? Getting you to realize something you already knew deep inside?"