Wind Whisperer Read online

  So I kept my mind blank. I probably acted like someone on drugs or something because I did everything mechanically. A total zombie. But these people didn’t seem to notice; or else were too polite to show their abhorrence. That was one of the first things I’d noticed about them. They were excruciatingly polite.

  After Joy helped Lead Woman clean up the remains of the morning meal, we ambled down to the beach, the tide on its way out. The vastness of the gray beach, pockmarked with tidal pools, and littered with seaweed and polished stones was impressive—and a little daunting. No longer the favorite play land that’d always beckoned me before, it now seemed remote—different, too big, distant and aloof.

  We walked barefoot across the wet sand. Joy and the dozen or so children who were our constant shadows seemed oblivious to the cold against bare ankles and toes. To me, the sand was freezing and my feet were numb in minutes. I didn’t complain, however, only clamped my mouth shut and followed in Joy’s footsteps. I was determined to keep up; not be a hindrance.

  Five older boys stood in a tight group several yards down the beach, and I wondered what they were doing. Tapping Joy on her arm, I pointed to them. “The boys over there…what’re they doing?” She stared at me, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. I tried to pantomime what I wanted to know. After only a few awkward gestures and a voice a trifle too loud, she smiled and nodded. Then, to my chagrin, she called out to the huddled group. Of course I didn’t understand a word she said, but the boys broke their tight circle and sauntered up the beach toward us. Most of them had their dark brown eyes riveted on me, and their unabashed curiosity made me very self-conscious.

  And then I saw it.

  A Walkman. Exactly like the one Jonah owned and had carried when we went on our disastrous walk in the forest. Without thinking, I let out a hoarse shout and ran up to the boys. “Hey. That belongs to my cousin. Where’d you find it? Where?”

  When they just stared at me in amusement, I turned to Joy and gesticulated wildly. She took one look at my face, said something under her breath, and reached out to grab my hand. I know she thought something was wrong or that I’d gone crazy, but I couldn’t articulate what upset me. I could only point to the Walkman, shake my head in bewilderment, and repeat, over and over, “Th-that’s my cousin’s…that’s Jonah’s…. He has to be around here somewhere…he has to be...”

  Joy said something to the boy holding it, and he nodded then grinned as though he were proud of something he’d accomplished. He raised his arm—the Walkman clutched tightly in his fist—and made a whooping noise. His buddies echoed his triumphant yodels, and this stirred up the smaller children until they were racing around in circles, screaming and laughing and acting like, well, kids.

  Summoning all the courage I’d left, I took another step toward the young man, holding up the prize. I pointed to it and gestured for him to give it to me. He frowned, stared down at me like I’d lost my mind, and then said something to his pals. Three of the young men laughed but the fourth—a short, heavily built youth—stared down at me like I was something found under a rock. It was very clear what he thought of me.

  Then the bearer of the prize fired rapid words to Joy, who immediately stiffened her shoulders and pursed her lips. If I’d expected her to come to my defense, I was sorely mistaken. She dropped her chin and kept her eyes on the ground. That irked me no end. I glared at the boy holding Jonah’s property and something inside me snapped. Without thinking, I lunged for the device, managed to get hold of it, and yanked with all my might. I’d anticipated the bigger boy’s reaction to be hostile or, at the very least, annoyed, but again I was mistaken. Instead of wrestling me for it, he suddenly let go, and I, and the Walkman, fell backwards onto the wet sand with a resounding splat.

  The other boys laughed uproariously and so did the little kids, but Joy made a face and reached down to help me up. I glared back at the boy, surprised to see him grinning at me. His dark eyes danced with mirth. He found me immensely entertaining.

  I didn’t care. They’d probably tie me up now, lock me in one of their cedar boxes, or punish me in some way, but at that moment, all I wanted to do was examine the thing in my hands. I turned it over and found what I was looking for. Jonah’s name etched into the plastic. I had watched him do it not more than a week ago. We’d been sitting on the patio in his back yard. He’d fished his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket, and, with one eye closed and his tongue sticking out, had scratched his name on his new toy.

  Just thinking about Jonah made my eyes water and a lump form in my throat. Where was he? Had my cousin been transported with me? That sounded so inane—transported. But I didn’t have any other word to describe it. I hadn’t just wandered away from Lake Crescent and gotten lost somewhere in Yesterday. No way. I’d been transported…or warped…or, oh. I didn’t know what to think. It was all too bizarre. Too sci-fi for me. The whole thing was impossible.

  I handed the Walkman back to the boy, and he took it with that dancing gleam still in his eyes. As I stared up at him, I came to the realization that he wasn’t bad looking. Not bad looking at all. In fact, he was kind of cute—in a rugged, athletic sort of way. My lips trembled.

  He smiled.

  Then he said something to his buddies, making the three jovial ones laugh again. With a lift of his chin in my direction, he strode away like a caricature of King Henry VIII—entourage, close at his heels. Only the heavy-set youth—the one who’d glowered at me with such malice—wasn’t laughing.

  SIX – WHERE’S JONAH?

  For the rest of the day, I followed Joy around the village as she went about her routine activities. When she sat under the tree to work on baskets, I sat under the tree and worked on baskets. When she went down to the beach at low tide to dig for clams, I was right beside her. Chief, after that initial confrontation and inspection, left me pretty much alone. And, although the other adults in the village didn’t make any overt advances, I knew they were all—every last one of them—watching my every move. Most of the time I put it out of my mind, but it bothered me just the same.

  The children, on the other hand, apparently found me irresistible. They tagged along wherever we went, always keeping at a discrete distance. Chubby Cheeks—the name I’d picked for Joy’s darling little brother—was our constant shadow. He and his pals talked and shouted to one another like a group of little boys anywhere. The smaller girls, especially the four I’d first seen on the beach, giggled at everything I said or did. They thought I was the greatest thing since remote control.

  And then there was…him. The boy who’d found the Walkman; the boy who I’d tussled with, trying to snatch the thing out of his hands; the boy who’d grinned at me with the dancing eyes. He seemed to appear out of nowhere at the most incongruous of times. We’d turn a corner and there he’d be, or we’d go down to the beach and find him and his buddies already there. He always stayed at a respectful distance, but he made his presence known. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed…or frightened.

  Later in the afternoon Joy and I finally got a moment to our selves. We sat on a whitened, salt-scoured log on the beach, staring out at the molten, curling waves. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I cleared my throat and touched Joy’s arm to get her attention. She turned to face me, a smile on her pretty round face. “Joy,” I said, pointing to her.

  “Joy,” she repeated, pointing to herself.

  I nodded and jabbed my finger against my own chest. “Hannah…Hannah.”

  She nodded. “Han-nah.”

  Then I tried to pantomime the Walkman. I gestured toward the spot where the boys had been huddled together and then signed out the shape of the box-like gadget they’d found. I had to do it twice before my friend’s smile widened and she nodded emphatically. Sighing with relief, I made an attempt to communicate my concern. “Joy…my cousin…a boy…. I need to find him…please…” The look on her face told me that I was wasting my time and energy. My words just didn’t mean anything to her. She’d no i
dea what “cousin” meant or “Walkman” for that matter. I seethed with frustration.

  Even though I felt she really did care for me—liked me—I knew I’d get no help from her. I had to take the initiative and look for Jonah myself. Trouble was, I didn’t know if I’d be allowed to wander around alone. I wasn’t sure of my position within the ranks of the villagers. I was free to walk around but that, I realized, was probably due more to Joy being the chief’s trusted daughter than because I was a viable member of the community. Without Joy, I probably wouldn’t be sitting on the beach watching the monotonous waves licking the shore...over and over and over. I’d probably be holed up somewhere, working my tail off, watched like a hawk.

  Sucking in a deep breath then exhaling it sharply, I jumped to my feet. Joy’s eyebrows lifted at my sudden movement. I pointed down the beach. “I’m going over there,” I explained. “I’m looking for my cousin—for Jonah. Jonah. A boy.” She shook her head, and I made a face and tried again. “My cousin…Jo-nah. A boy, about this tall—” I raised my hand a few inches above my head. “A big boy…he’s-he’s lost. I’ve got to find him.”

  Without waiting to see whether she comprehended, I turned on my heel and jogged down the beach toward a huge mass of driftwood. The bleached logs resembled the picked over bones of some massive, mythical creature—long dead and forgotten. If it’d been a normal afternoon at the beach with my family, Jonah and I would’ve been scrounging around that pile like amateur archaeologists.

  Without much hope, I scanned the area. I didn’t know what to look for. Footprints, maybe, but there were already a lot of those. How could I distinguish Jonah’s from the boys’ prints or the countless children, who’d been playing on the beach? True, they were all barefoot and Jonah would most likely still have on his boots, but it still would be too difficult for me to pick them out among the millions of other marks in the sand. I sighed again and puffed my cheeks in and out. I knew Jonah was here. I knew it. Otherwise, why would his Walkman be here? It didn’t magically materialize all by itself…. At least, I didn’t think so. Everything was pretty mixed up so anything was possible. Not probable, maybe, but possible in this strange retro-world.

  I kept walking but didn’t find anything. Of course, the Indian boy could’ve found the Walkman anywhere. It didn’t necessarily have to have been here on the beach. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that he hadn’t found it on the beach. When I’d examined it, it hadn’t been wet or covered with grains of sand. It’d been fairly clean, not damaged. Now, more than ever, I wanted to talk to someone who could understand what I was saying. Joy was interested in me and cared, and she tried hard to communicate, but it was always difficult. And there was no way I could get anyone else in the village to be patient enough to watch my gesticulations and pantomimes. Certainly not the youth who’d found the Walkman. Whenever he looked at me, he grinned or laughed outright.

  I had to resign myself to the fact that finding Jonah wasn’t going to be easy. Flopping down on the dry sand close to the edge of the forest, my back up against a magnificent old tree root, I stared out at the blue-gray sea. The monotony was making me drowsy. Closing my eyes, I dragged in a long, cleansing breath and savored its salty freshness. In other circumstances I would’ve loved being on this secluded, out-of-the-way beach.

  Almost dozing, I was startled out of my wits when something thick and woolly suddenly went over my head. I shrieked, but the sound was muffled by whatever cocooned me. I raised my arms to fight off the thing and was even more shocked when several hands grabbed me and hauled me to my feet. Even through the thick blanket, I heard the raucous laughter of boys. The Walkman gang.

  “Let me go.” I screamed and writhed in their tight hold. “Let me go. Now.” I kicked out blindly, managing to catch a few legs. Someone’s sharp cry let me know I’d also hit something more than a knee. I squirmed some more but was thrown to the ground for my trouble. Harsh words poured down on me, and fear took over. I stopped resisting and remained a silent heap on the sand, blinded by the heavy wool blanket, or whatever they wrapped around my head. I waited. I hoped with my whole mind and body that Joy was somewhere near and had witnessed this attack. She wouldn’t let these boys hurt me. At least, I hoped she’d be able to have some say in it.

  Then, before I even had a chance to react, my hands were yanked behind my back and tied. They did the same thing to my ankles. In less than thirty seconds, I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Flat on my back on the cool sand, all I could do nothing but lie there and pray nothing else happened. This was bad enough. What did they want to do with me? Were they just going to leave me there on the beach and wait for the tide to come in?

  Nothing else happened. After a few more loud shouts and barks of laughter, a deadly silence filled my blind world. Unable to see and barely able to hear, I floated in a world apart from this one. The sand underneath was cool and soft, but I wasn’t comfortable. Too frightened to move in case they stood close by watching, I remained as silent and still as the driftwood and sand and rocks around me.

  Did I say silent? Not as quiet as I thought. Through the thick folds of blanket, I made out certain distinct sounds. Waves. Rhythmic, rolling in…rolling out, crashing, slamming, pummeling the sand. Gulls. Shrill, cackling like Mrs. O’Riley back at our church, pitched too high and too loud, piercing and off-key. Wind. Lonesome, groaning like refugees, lost and afraid, filling the void with unspeakable anguish. Crows. Sassy, cawing deep in the woods and receiving echoing replies from others of their kind. Trees. Sibilant, whispering, soughing, sighing, shaking bracelets made of cones, rustling stoles of bunched needles.

  Deafening noise.

  I lay there, growing more and more chilled and frightened, and fought the tears and screams that clawed up my throat. I didn’t think I could take another second and geared up for one heck of a screech when I heard the muted sounds of someone running across soft sand. I clenched my teeth and waited for more rough handling from the boys. Gentle hands touched me. The voice accompanying them belonged to Joy. Thank God.

  In minutes she had the ropes untied and pulled the blanket shroud from around my head. A punch of bright light and a blurred figure hit me in the face. I covered my eyes with both hands. “Oh, man, that’s bright.” I winced.

  Joy made a clucking noise and helped me to my feet. Words poured from her lips, but of course they didn’t make any sense. I shook my head and tried to sign what’d happened. It probably looked like an Abbot and Costello skit or something, and it wasn’t too long before we both shrugged and gave up.

  Joy motioned for me to sit down on a smooth log. Still feeling a little light-headed, I was happy to. We sat on the log for several minutes not saying anything, just wriggling our toes in the cool, soft sand. Joy had a pensive look on her usually cheerful face, and I wondered if she was wondering how to tell her father about the boys’ manhandling of me. Or if she even knew it was the boys who’d done it. Maybe it’d been some sort of initiation or hazing like they do in fraternities. Maybe she had seen what the boys had done but was supposed to allow it. It probably was nothing more than a joke. I sure as heck wasn’t in any position to complain.

  I put the whole unnerving incident out of my mind and concentrated on the vast body of water before me. I counted waves; watched two gulls swoop and glide in an invisible current of air. When a noise behind us startled me, I jerked around to see what it was. Alarmed by my sudden movement, Joy turned, too. One lone crab scuttled across the soft gray sand. I couldn’t have heard it, but I did. The creature only measured three inches across its back—if that. The little crab was almost non-existent in the wide expanse of dark gray sand, pebbles, seaweed, and driftwood. Impossible, but I’d heard it.

  Joy gave me a funny look. Since I hadn’t a clue what to do or say, I just shrugged and made a face. Then I scrambled to my feet and grabbed her hand. I pointed down the beach and she nodded. Still silent, we made our way back to the village. Joy probably thought I was lo
onier than, well, a loon. I could only imagine what went on in her sleek black head.

  SEVEN – LISTENING

  The very next day the inexplicable happened. Joy and I were picking berries in a small clearing not far from the village—blessedly alone for the first time in hours. We were just doing our thing—plucking ripe, juicy berries off the thick bushes and plopping them into our baskets. That’s all. The sun was shining. Birds trilled high up in the trees. Joy hummed to herself. Common, everyday noises, a part of our daily routine.

  But I was hearing other sounds—sounds I’d never heard before. Feeling more and more disturbed, I set my basket on the ground and squinted up at the sun, balanced on the point of a regal Douglas fir like a Christmas star. As I stared, blinking tears from my watery eyes, I heard it. I know it sounds crazy—sounds like I was hallucinating or something—but I heard it. I really did. I heard the sun. The sun makes a soft sighing sound, almost like butter melting in a warm pan.

  Just as I was trying to take that freaking impossibility in, another noise startled me. I turned around and around and finally zeroed in on three large toadstools at the foot of a cedar. A solitary butterfly sat on one of them. That was it. One little two-inch black and yellow butterfly. And I heard it. I heard it rubbing its jaws together, making a curious click, click, clack sound.

  Thinking Joy had to be hearing these things, too, I looked at her, ready to smile or chuckle or even shrug at the incongruity of the whole thing. But Joy wasn’t looking my way at all. She remained oblivious to the strange things going on all around us. Her complacency scared me more than if she’d acted alarmed at hearing these impossible sounds. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around me. I wasn’t cold, just really, really freaked out. Then I thought of how Jonah would’ve reacted had he been here. I started to laugh. The laughter swelled and mushroomed until I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t stop—couldn’t breathe.