Surprise
by C.D. Campbell
A gelid earth greeted his over-warm body as he emerged from the cabin. Beyond the clearing designated for parking, colossal lodge-pole pines perforated the skyline, their needled branches weighted down with dense moist snow. Amidst the ancient trees a mirror image of his own cabin flickered like a wind-blown candle and gradually became tangible. Bareheaded, he plodded across the expanse, scrunching the freshly fallen snow beneath his thick rubber boots. The sun shone halfheartedly from behind the clouds and turned the landscape a hazy slate blue. Trudging vigilantly forward, he became afraid, desperate to reach his goal before it faded again- returned to its place beyond the veil. He yearned to quicken his pace but his feet felt like lead and it was only with enormous effort that he was able to lift each shoe in its turn from the freezing ground. Within his chest, beneath the padding of his overcoat and shirt, he felt the drum-rhythm pounding of his heart and in his mind he could visualize the contractions as it pumped his blood, thick and crimson. Feeling moisture on his face he reached up to wipe away the damp. When his fingers brushed his cheek he became aware that he was crying. Before him, unattainable, the cabin mirage shimmered and winked out of existence. Disconcerted, he muttered, �Christ;� and then, as in every version of his dream, the penguin waddled across his path, stiffly batting it�s slick, flightless wings. �Alva,� a woman�s voice was calling to him from elsewhere. �Alva, wake up.� Grumpily he fidgeted in his seat, trying to avoid the hands tenderly shaking him. �Are we there, then?� he asked, refusing for the moment to open his eyes. �Nearly,� the woman answered. Since hearing his name called, Alva had been experiencing difficulty recalling to whom the voice belonged. At last the motherly tone had invoked a face that was familiar and with the face came the name. Evelyn. Satisfied that he had returned to physical reality, Alva Keel opened his eyes. �I don�t get how you can drink so much coffee and still sleep so well,� Evelyn playfully complained as she sat back down in the seat facing him. �Practice,� he replied unsmiling. �Where�s Paul?� he asked. Evelyn covered a yawn with her hand before answering. �He made friends,� she said nodding down the aisle. Peeking out from under his driving cap Keel turned in his chair to view Paul sitting a few rows away in deep conversation with a youthful priest. From the expression on his associate�s face, Alva decided that the dialogue was of the serious variety. He clasped his hands together and stretched. Paul Callan had interested him from the first. The slightly younger man�s curiosity and thirst for knowledge reminded Keel of himself; and Paul�s unique abilities reminded him of�someone he chose not to think of. Alva cleared his throat and rose from the discolored cotton-poly blend fabric of the train seat. Evelyn watched him, her curly brunette locks crushed against the flattened built-in cushion at the head of the chair, question marks virtually popping from her eyes. Her full lips parted but she didn�t speak. Paul too had noticed Keel�s movements and making an abrupt but civil end to his conversation, left the priest to meet Alva in the aisle. �Learn much?� Alva inquired discreetly as Paul followed him to the rear of the car. Paul shrugged, the movement of his narrow shoulders barely visible under his weighty dark coat. �No more than what we already knew. The congregation believes that the statue is bleeding and if we go in there and say it isn�t,� Paul paused and raised his eyebrows,� well, they�re gonna tear us apart.� Only a hint of humor was in his voice. �Ah, the devotion of a small town,� replied Keel mercurially. �Does, ah he know who we are?� He glanced back toward the young priest. �I don�t think so, no. Just another group making a pilgrimage as far as he�s concerned.� The train shuddered unexpectedly and Paul pitched forward, striking his head against the metal railing of the storage shelf above the seats. Alva grabbed his arm and tugged him back. �You�re bleeding,� he commented as his co-worker gained firm footing. �Thanks,� Paul said, gently putting his fingers to the cut above his right eyebrow. �Are you all right, Paul?� Evelyn asked coming up behind them, dutifully carrying Alva�s frayed attach� case. �Yeah.� �Well, we�re here,� stated Keel gruffly. �Yeah,� repeated Paul. His eyes met Evelyn�s and they shared a moment of amused resignation over their associate�s consummate facility for dismissing anything not directly related to their investigation. Paul didn�t like to say that Keel was cold, but certainly there was some kind of wall built up between him and most of the human race. The former professor seemed to reside almost entirely in a world of paranormal events where people were at best a secondary concern. The group moved off the train onto the platform, scanning the unfamiliar station for exit signs. As they huddled, the young cleric from the train sauntered toward them and stopped before Alva. �Sodalitas Quaerito,� he stated. Unnerved, Paul spun to take in Keel�s reaction, but Alva�s expression had not changed. Calmly he put his hand in his coat pocket, pulled out his wallet and from this, held out to the priest a business card. The young priest had continued to stare only at Keel, and on being offered the card, contemptuously shook his head. �Seen any penguins lately, Father Keel?� Slowly the business card fell from Alva�s hand, wafting in the cross currents of natural and forced air. His face blanched as his hands formed into strained fists. He thought of the frozen car park and chthonic forest and instinctively his body sprinted forward to detain the retreating priest. The position of his attach� case on the platform floor however, tripped up his feet and he fell. Alarmed, Evelyn reached out to keep him steady. Noticing that they were blocking the direct path of a river of restless travelers, Paul suggested they try to steer Keel into the station. This suggestion prompted Alva to emerge from his unbalanced state. Straightening his posture, he firmly rejected Paul�s proposal. �No. �You two go to the church. Have a look at the statue and meet me at the motel. I have to talk to that priest.� His blue-green eyes had glossed over and Evelyn recognized a vaguely crazed aspect in them. As though talking to a child, she asked, �Well won�t he be at the church?� Alva bit his lower lip. �Perhaps if that had been a priest he might be at the church.� �What are you thinking, Keel?� asked Paul. �Friendly,� murmured Alva. The trio looked at one another uncertainly. In silence they walked to a set of stairs at the edge of the platform. On the top step, a wizened, long bearded man sat, drunkenly singing �I Will Love Again.�
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