Chapter 10 Decades of Silence and Then…
decades of silence and then…
ZION
I was grading Jacobi Baerlow’s rather poorly written essay on the themes in Great Expectations at the kitchen counter when my phone buzzed with an email alert.
Ravik turned from the living room sofa and muted the nature documentary on the migration of Canada geese he was watching with a look that silently asked, Everything okay?
My last remaining maul mate stayed ever at the ready to assist.
I once again wondered if I shouldn’t at least attempt to convince him to leave Bear Mountain with me when the school year ended in the fall, at which time, I planned to quit, whether Mayor Rys had found a replacement for my schoolhouse teacher position or not.
However, Ravik hadn’t stepped foot outside of Bear Mountain for anything more than a Barrington’s run in decades. He was born here, grew up here, and there was little to no chance I could persuade him not to die here.
Which meant… my red pen stilled over Jacobi’s essay as I realized, I’ll soon be losing my best friend.
But I set those future thoughts aside and reached for the phone lying on the counter as I assured Ravik, “No need to worry. Most likely yet another Grade 10 student requesting more time for the essay due tomorrow.”
Back when I was completing my final year at Abernathy in England, I often cursed myself for pushing assignments until the last minute in order to make room for theatre club.
Not once did it occur to me to ask for extra time.
“The entitlement of this younger generation no longer astounds me, but I’m given new reason to be disappointed by their low effort every day,” I griped to Ravik as I opened my phone, preparing to explain, yet again, that they could look up the definition of cramming and consider the merits of working hard to meet a deadline rather than requesting an extension (which I’d explicitly stated on day one of the school year in April would only be granted on the occasion of death in the family or sickness with a note of confirmation from Dr. Ashak).
However, the email did not come from one of my English Literature students.
I jolted, then carefully muted my side of the maul-bite bond with Ravik when I saw the name Claudine Ellis at the top of my inbox.
Ravik and Niska knew about Claudine. I’d told them everything when I returned to our totem cave after two weeks away. But this guilt was mine alone to carry.
Regret squeezed my chest at the sight of her name.
For so many reasons. Not only had I cheated on my late wife with my ex-girlfriend in a fit of pique and resentment, but I’d also left our bed of infidelity before the sun rose—so consumed with shame, I hadn’t taken the time to explain to Claudine why I couldn’t face her in the morning.
But now here she was. In my inbox.
I clicked on the message.
Hello, Zion:
I’m in Scotland now. I am getting married next week, and according to my soon-to-be husband, there are some things I should talk with you about so I can enter into our union without baggage from the past. Call me at your earliest convenience, and after checking the time difference.
Are you still in British Columbia? Hope this email still works. Number below.
-Claudine
A strange warmth filled my chest as I read her message. She sounded exactly as I remembered her—no-nonsense, clearly stated reasons for everything she did. Not one ounce of sentiment or art.
Back when I was barely scraping by in a low-tier Canadian med school—after disappointing my father greatly by not having the marks to gain entry into his British alma mater—I’d thought her the perfect solution to my problems with staying on the path my father had set forth for me.
She was a pretty Jamaican nursing student with the personality of a tank and a five-year plan.
“I will be editing it to include you as soon as I have my jewelry,” she informed me on our third date, after letting me know she expected a wedding ring by the time I graduated from med school.
I’d expected to give it to her.
The spring break spent skiing in Vancouver with a couple of my friends was meant to be my last lads’ trip before I became an engaged man.
But then we stopped in Bear Mountain on the way to the ski town, and all those plans were upended when Niska bit me.
I immediately typed back:
Dearest Claudine,
I’m relieved to hear that you are thriving, and in Scotland, of all places. I truly look forward to hearing the story of how you came to be there and congratulating you on your upcoming nuptials. I will give you a time to speak as soon as I—
“ZION! ZION, MAN! YOU THERE?”
I dropped the phone to the stone floor as the shout filled my head with an unexpected blast. The device’s screen shattered upon impact. This time there was no hiding my shock from Ravik—even with our maul bite still muted.
I would have thought the telepathic shout came from him were he not already leaping over the back of the sofa and rushing toward me with a concerned look on his face.
But no…
The long-dormant maul bite on my left arm lit up with sensation, alerting me to the identity of the person shouting directly into my mind after nearly thirty years of silence.
“What’s wrong?” Ravik’s panicked thoughts tumbled in with the question he’d pushed into my head. He feared I was having an aneurysm, that he was about to lose me, too, without warning, the same way we’d lost Niska.
Unlike me, he hadn’t confidently exchanged maul bites with Walker before Erik took that future from all of us.
“It’s not that.” I unmuted my side of our bonded connection to send Ravik a mental message over our maul bite for the first time since I decided this would be my final year in Bear Mountain, no matter what. “Walker. Walker Boone."
My hand went to the tingling scar on my left arm—the maul bite that had previously been dormant for three decades. “He’s here. And he's requesting—actually, shouting for—our help.”
“ZION? ZION?” The other voice boomed in my head once again. “IF YOU’RE THERE, COME QUICK!”