He lived in the Rocky's somewhere, he forgot where; it had been a while and he never planned on a trip back to the wasteland. His cabin had a million-dollar vista that cost him nothing. Mountain peaks stabbed at the sky with every blink and shift. The amount of snow never seemed to alter, time was oblivious and he threw away all the clocks years ago. He was low enough to still get the seasons a bit. He could wear just a T-shirt if he was going to get sweaty working on something.
He had been a teacher a long time ago, taught at an all-girls school in Nevada. It ended horribly and it was only his fifth year teaching. He was accused of being sexually inappropriate with his students. This was, of course, a complete lie and the administrators mostly knew it, however couldn't defend him or take his side. He had bent some rules and broken others, been a little closer or more "equal" with his students on some occasions, but not out of anything more than trying to help them be more friendly as a teaching tool. His theory was that a stoic teacher would decrease information retention by more than half of what a "cool" "friend" teacher could accomplish. He had an extensive library at home of art books, and made it open to any of his students that wanted to do research. Twice a group of three to four girls had stopped in to peruse and borrow half a dozen books that related to points of interest. The third time they came over they didn't call and he was in his wallows, a wretch drunk grasping for reason for reasons long past due. Just a bad time. He tried to "sober up" and let them in to do what he had offered in class, however the drink took hold and he became angry and kicked them out yearning for the solace of his own mind on whiskey. That was all. But the reaction was bad. It turned into "advances" and "suggestion".
Realising quickly that he held no hope of reinstitution to the respected persons of community club, he went to a board meeting to negotiate. He laid down the exact truth of what happened that day. He acknowledged and absolved the board for their situation and whatever decision they made, but then said the following:
"My colleagues, this next proposition is unbecoming of me and yourselves, however in my position I'm left few choices in the matter of self-preseration. What I propose is that I leave with a ridiculous sum of your money. That money buys my disgrace and disappearance. It pays for your ability to reprimand and protect. It actually pays to protect your money and your institution. I am made out to be a villain, and I will leave as a quiet, guilty villain for your benefit, for a certain price. The opposite side of this evil coin is that if I'm forced to leave a guilty villain I will not do so quietly. Their is no legal substance to these claims against me and this had already been discovered by the authorities, however I will, if not compensated for my sacrifice, lay claim to horrible acts which will incriminate your ability to provide a safe environment for your students, and alarm the community not just here but beyond."
They wrote a check and it cleared. He was run out of town like a Frankenstein of misconceptions.
Shantuk liked the cool seasons of the mountains. He was well prepared. He felt he knew exactly when he was going to die, and that his sustenance was to be mostly concerned with just getting there. When he left for the mountains he researched a great deal. He purchased solar panels and advanced battery systems and learned how to fix and replace parts and solenoids and convection units so that he was able to provide himself with not just emergency heat or electricity, but was able to calculate that he would be able to run a computer (for music and writing primarily) for more years than he could hope to have on Earth.
When he left he wanted to really leave. He didn't want a trail. The check he got from the school he cashed. He operated on cash for quite some time. He kept a few credit cards and a bank account and updated his addresses with the Draft Board, but only enough to show up on the Social Security radar. The night that he was fully prepared, after buying a helicopter, learning to fly it, building his cabin to a rough start, trucking supplies, he burned his house. He put a cadaver in it and hoped they didn't run dentals. They didn't, they assumed, and he was dead.
He flew the helicopter to the cabin and in the security of over-thinking torched the helicopter minus a few may-be-valuable parts. There were no roads from his cabin, no trails, no panic-walkable distance. There was running water within 500 feet, and he made sure he would retain access to it in the winter months. He built his cabin such that it didn't call much attention to itself against the forest. He was on government land and never OK'd his stay or build. He had brought a good deal of dried meats, seeds, baking supplies (though field mice got into the yeast so his bread for the rest of his life was flat and dense), canned foods, SPAM, but also hunting and fishing gear. He made a conscious decision not to bring pornography or anything that looked or smelled like women. Not because of any dislike, but he figured it just didn't matter.
Shantuk wasn't depressed, and wasn't really just waiting to die though it looked an awful lot like it. He was energized and excited about this final adventure. He wasn't worried that he'd had any oversights or mistakes because they were part of the fun. He had dedicated the rest of his life to this life, if his life left early because of something he forgot it was no less natural or proud or unwitnessed. He was the tree falling with no one to hear it.
Everything actually seemed in place really. It went exactly as expected. He got up in the mornings, he went to bed at night. The freedom was unimaginable. The relentless will and untapped aggressions he discovered were more than the best adrenaline rush. Not every day, of course, but generally on a day to day basis he was happier and felt more free than ever before. He found himself on the cusp of originality. He felt things unfelt and thought things unthought. Contemplated structures of humanity that were free from the confines of community logic and was able to either confuse away previous preconceptions or discover new continents of reason and belief. What wasn't possible without the confines of known science to prove otherwise?
This was all before Madeline.
Shantuk had his encounters big and small with critters and wolves and bears and rabbits. He even had a few scars and a few pet-names to show for it. He couldn't, however, ever account for the encounter with Madeline.
It was, at best guess, early Spring. He was chopping firewood since the winter at least felt longer and he had burned up most of his supply. It was hard work because most of the wood was hard and cold and he had forgotten to sharpen his axe. (He took great ceremony when sharpening the axe, it took him days, so naturally when he suddenly had the opportunity to cut wood a quick sharpening was out of the question. He had to pay for his forgetfulness with extra effort.) That was when he first spotted her. He stopped chopping for a minute to take a drag from his cigarette and catch his breath. The pounding in his ears ceased a little and the familiar quiet of nature came back. He looked around and tried to guess when a real thaw would settle in. To his left, a double-take. If he wasn't mistaken there was a cow standing half in the tree line. He squinted a little to confirm. Yes, it was a cow. It was looking dead at him, obviously thinking. It was almost menacing, but it certainly wasn't. He stared right back. In his mind he tossed and turned with the possibilities. Was he not alone? Was there a cow owner? Was this a wild cow? A wild cow? Were wild cows aggressive?
He decided to take a walk to the other side of the small clearing to get a better or different look. He didn't move closer, just over. The cow's head turned slowly and smoothly with him, watching his intently.
Still more questions. It was creepy. But not bad creepy, just unknown creepy, alien creepy. After a while he decided to call out. He hadn't spoken in probably seven months, and that was just a yelp when he hit his leg with hammer accidentally. "Come 'ere cow!" He said loudly. He felt instantly stupid.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
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