Keep The Fire HotAct IV

MARA now rests over WIN's shoulders like a scarf giving WIN both arms free to push away branches.

All of his wounds reopened and fresh ones too in the relentless drive away from the nightmare campfire.

MARA's arms flop around like the sleeves of an empty shirt.

Through the treeline WIN can see that he is nearly back upon a road that runs north south and there is an old, mostly intact, mailbox at the edge of an overgrown flat path that was once a driveway.

Without pausing he turns for it.

Both south and north along both sides of the treeline, WIN eyes for any movement while crossing the old road and walking straight down the driveway.

The line of sight down the drive is into trees but the path bends away to the hidden house.

When WIN rounds the corner he is surprised by it.

This is a modern house. An architect's house. Someone with money and taste built it. Midcentury shapes with modern materials.

The tall heavy front door is sealed tight.

No disturbed ground. Overgrowth to wade through. No one has been outside this house in years.

The pain from depositing MARA on the stoop is severe, his legs burn and his feet have achieved a numbness he's never experienced.

Mara. Can you hear me?

WIN shakes her shoulder but MARA's body just flops around loose and free.

With WIN's swaying they look like drunks returned home from the last party on earth.

I'm going to look around.

You stay here. Stay.

No response from MARA and WIN is back on his angry feet, limp fully activated, looking for a way in.

Around the side of the house is concrete in layers, rammed earth, forming a tall column. No basement windows.

In the back, floor to ceiling windows, splattered in mud from wind and rain and the view inside is curtains.

A structure that could be a shed across the yard from him.

The view is incredible. A small lake through the overgrowth can still be seen and all manner of wildlife embrace its rippleless morning aura.

If there are doors to this shed they are hidden behind the once stylish slats of wood.

WIN pushes randomly on parts of the wall until a door becomes obvious.

The clatter of the door signals its function.

WIN can see a rusted heavy padlock on the inside of a slat. He pulls the base out exposing the lock.

Past some random frogs in the tall grass a heavy-enough rock is found and with more strength than he thought he had, that lock came right off.

The tool shed is big enough to live in if he can't get into the house.

In short order WIN finds a chisel and a heavy hammer, hobbles to the closest door and knocks the lock out.

The door opens and he was never happier to smell the stale air of a house that had been empty for at least 8 years.

Setting sunlight lights the bedroom and lines up with MARA's resting eyes.

On the floor lying on a blanket, like a dog, WIN faces the bed and gently snores.

Outside in the yard a family of deer make their way North at a leisurely pace.

By the time the last one is back in the invisibility of the woods, MARA's eyes flutter open.

Deeper breaths as awareness comes to her and her hands and feet spread out to feel the sheets.

Up on one elbow she looks at her surroundings, out at the backyard, and the lump of snoring WIN in the corner.

It takes her a second to recognize who it is and the surprise is obvious.

Well, well, well.

Hey.

Hey Buddy. You're looking better.

(not moving, eyes still closed)

Not Buddy. Win.

Win?

That's right. Winston Price.

My name is Mara Tremblay.

Sometimes also known as "That bitch"

Now WIN is on his elbows looking up at MARA who is on the bed on her elbows looking down on him, blessed holy by the retreating of the sunlight on her face and the curvature of her smile.

WIN smiles back.

Yeah, I was just about to tell you to settle down.

How long have I been here, where is here, and can I stay forever?

Three weeks, I have no idea, and yes, probably.

Three?

The smile falls off her face.

I'm not wearing pants, am I, you sonofabitch. Oh shit. I'm clean. Did you fucking wash me?

In the washroom is a sponge on a stick. I wrapped a towel around it with soap and warm water and just tried to keep you from stinking like a dog - avoiding your personal bits. By week two I was worried you'd either be like that forever or maybe wake up and choke me with your armpit hair for not looking after you so I risked it.

(pause)

You're safe with me, Mara Tremblay.

I know.

I'll grill us some pheasant.

Fancy.

I think it's grouse. They're probably the same bird for all I know.

Stay a minute more.

Ok.

Last thing I remember I was with a bunch of biker cult freaks.

My face was hot and I was hit over the head with something.

How did you find me?

Pure luck.

No such thing.

You're not superstitious are you?

I believe in what's right in front of me.

What did you find when you went into that neighbourhood?

They'd been there.

Others too.

And… by the time I went back to the library Grip had been found… by someone..

Oh.

It was.. horrific.

No loss for the world.

(pause)

I think I like that you're capable but not really good at it.

At what?

At violence. Being violent.

This was something else. This was just something else. There was no… reason to this, just brutality. Animal brutality. And I was close to it.

Or more to the point it was close to me.

Much too close to me.

Its kill or die, outside, right now.

There is only right now and getting to the next day. That's it.

It can't go on like this. Somewhere at some point someone is going to have to trust again. Whether that trust is betrayed or not is besides the point.

The light has turned to darkness and both WIN and MARA are considering the weight of their lives and what they've done. The air is heavy.

Food now.

I'll get the fire stoked.

We have a fireplace?

Oh yes. And hot water and a gas stove. Mostly I've been grilling though.

I woke up saved.

Maybe.

Rest up.

He got up like a man remembering himself. Pushing back his hair with raked fingers, and straightening his shirt.

WIN looks up to see MARA still looking at him, an awkward smile and he leaves the room.

The handled log carrier slips right out of WIN's hand and the collection of kindling spills in a mess.

Balls.

Bent over collecting the detritus WIN feels the warm sun on his back and the comfort of being home without his boots on.

Maybe a Month Later.

Hi, we come in peace.

Holyshit!

A group of three stand at the curved entrance to the house drive. He hadn't heard them approach and the idea that he'd see anyone anytime soon was a million miles away.

He cursed himself for not going back to the road and taking down the mailbox. Without it no one would have guessed this house was here from the road. Then he was angry at showing how scared he was. His anger at himself came across clear to the uninvited.

We're unarmed.

The tallest of the three, FERRY stood in the lead while his two women stayed back, the oldest holding up the youngest.

Each of them has months of sleeping outside covered all over them. Thin, hungry, and the youngest is wounded.

WIN is taking his time in his assessment, his hand on one of the thicker sticks of the collection.

Is this your house?

Yes, its my fucking house, buddy.

I can't tell you how much it would help us if we could sleep inside tonight. We've been seeing some shit out here.

You know what I mean?

If I tell you to get fucked are you going to leave?

No, we'll probably sleep on your front porch.

Anything is better than these woods.

(under his breath)

Sonofa…

Let them in, Win.

WIN turns and sees MARA at the side of the house with the gun in her hand.

She puts it right in the middle of her belt in her special accentuated way so everyone knows she has it.

FERRY isn't gloating at this victory. He helps the young one with her bad leg and his other companion holds up her other side.

They hobble past WIN's scowl

and over his spilled kindling

and up the step and into the first safe place WIN has been in years.

WIN looks to the woods and the sun and the pile of spilled sticks at his feet.

The fire is full, the uninvited are clean and WIN finds thin reasons to stand near the heavy fire pokers while everyone else is comfortable.

The sunset was beautiful and the air still had the casual perfection of early summer.

Feels good to be clean doesn't it?

Oh yes. It's amazing to smell soap again. We're grateful to you both.

We haven't seen anyone else in over a month.

Where are you heading?

We were collecting as much as we could from homes, anything in good or easily sold condition, packing it in our little trailer to take back south and sell. Been doing it steady these past few years. Pretty soon we went from taking our time and finding our way to feeling like we were being driven by something behind us. Something pushing us north.

MARA looks to WIN who nods, it doesn't make either of them feel any better that other people are feeling the same things they have.

One night it was like all the stars just were gone and only the wind in the trees made any sound and our fire started getting like blue, blue tips and it was high. I can't explain what happened after.

but we were a group of seven before that.

and only three after running through the woods all night. We didn't stop until the sun was high in the sky and we were sitting in a massive field with clear, real clear lines of sight in every direction.

That's how CASSIDY hurt her leg. From that night's run.

MARA stared ahead into the empty space in front of her hearing that this young girl had the same name as her daughter.

How long ago was that?

Maybe a week? Days are blurry now. None of us have slept from the nightmares. It's hard to say.

Who were the others? Any kids? Traveling with their mother?

No kids in our group. Cassidy was the youngest.

But we have seen kids.

That's right we have. I forgot - we were avoiding people at the time, our cart was full, and they looked like a punchy group. Like trouble.

They looked like killers.

Snowmobiles? Dutch? White looking - super white looking almost albino?

That's right. Lead by a real tall guy.

The kids had their wrists bound and the mom had a chain around her waist.

When?

When we saw them.

Maybe a month. Like I said, it's hard to say.

MARA got up wordlessly and stood facing the window and that big overgrown backyard painted in darkness.

WIN turned away from the group in a different direction, his face lit by the fire. They're still alive!

WIN held one of the heavy pokers and pushed logs around. The uninvited could sense the change in temperature and eyed each other nervously. They were happy to be safe and clean but they'd run again if they had to.

CASSIDY adjusts her fresh ankle bandage.

WIN and MARA lie in bed in each other's arms each staring into space. Moonlight bounces in from the big window. The visible distance is at peace with a light breeze made of warm summer air.

I'll help you find them.

You aren't still hungry for throats?

I don't know. Everything is different.

We're connected now.

We are connected now. It feels right.

I don't..they won't recognize me. You know. The things I've done. The trail of dead. To find them. The person I've become these past years.

It's never fit me. I felt it when you said it - I'm not good at it but it got done all the same. Now I'm wearing it like a suit I can't take off for an event I can't get out of that I have to live through again and again day after day after day.

And then, fuck me, what world will I be saving them for?

Tears roll down WIN's face. MARA shifts from comfortable to comforting.

It's been so long.

I've had too long to wonder.

What have they seen? What have they endured?

Fuck, sorry. You didn't ask for this.

It's ok.

Despite herself, MARA's eyes overflow and this entire day catches up with her.

WIN gently grabs her face and kisses her until they're both smiling through tears.

I have to get up.

In the washroom WIN dips into the bowl of water on the counter and splashes it on his face and rubs the tension out of his eyes.

Through blurry vision he turns his head through the bedroom to the vibrations of warm firelight reflecting in the window.

The quiet is pierced with a white hot blade of screaming coming from CASSIDY in the living room.

WIN steps into the bedroom. MARA is throwing clothes on.

A soundless vibration is shaking the walls WIN passes running to the living room

From every window there are only yellow-white eyes, black smoke, and all the tree tops are on fire, the bushes are on fire.

At the entrance to the living room, WIN stands still inside the hallway; past him, the legs of FERRY and IZZY dangle in the middle of the room.

Their bodies float a meter above the floor and tasteful modern furniture, slack jawed and loose like empty clothing.

CASSIDY sits on the floor, wrapped in her blanket, eyes up.

(in unison)

Just a taste. Just a taste. Just a taste.

FERRY and IZZY shudder while an invisible hand slices into the top of their heads, down their backs, and pulls their skin off.

CASSIDY is too scared to run.

MARA is frozen behind WIN still in the hallway.

Outside the window, the darkness of eyes part like mist revealing the Ojibwe bikers have a bonfire stoked taller than the house.

They laugh and dance around the fire in a drunken fiasco of mocking movements.

They stop their frenzy just enough to turn and face the house and then they all simultaneously along with the corpses of FERRY and IZZY snap their fingers.

The sound echoes through the yard. No sounds of nightlife fill the void.

The trees are no longer on fire.

Inside, gravity returns to the corpses which fall hard to the floor.

Cool moonlight pours into the room where thundering hearts and terrified faces try to manufacture some sense into what they just witnessed.