Destiny of a Visionary - 1. Chapter 1

Marino was not the favorite son of Frank Albright. Frank, being predisposed to prejudice, he didn’t even like Mario’s name because it was Latino. But Pauline insisted on it because it was the name of her Grandfather. Jordan, now age twenty-one, was four years older than his brother and had a sturdy masculine build from hard work on their small ranch in central Idaho. Frank admired him for his hard work. On the other hand, Marino was frail, and his attention always seemed to be somewhere else. One day, Frank called Marino a dreamer and said that he wasn’t fit for ranch work. He even suggested that when eighteen, Marino move to some city and look for work and live there. But the serious event that caused Frank to dislike Marino emerged years before when at the tender age seven, it was discovered that Marino was a clairvoyant. Marino was playing with the family dog in the backyard and tripped and fell against a yard fencepost, hitting his head. He was knocked out briefly, and when he came to, he felt somehow different. He didn’t tell his mother about falling or hitting his head. Eight days later, Marino ran into the house and grabbed the sleeve of his mother’s blouse and jerked and said frantically…

“Mama…Mister Eng le is going to die real soon.”

“Nonsense, child,” Pauline said. “Mister Eng le is only thirty-two and strong of body and mind. Where did you get such a foolish idea?”

“I just know he’s going too, Mama,” said the frightened boy.

“You are going to have to stop watching those scary movies on TV. I think they are upsetting you. Now go along and play with Speckles.”

Marino left the kitchen pouting and went to the backyard and crawled into a tiny cove between two huge lilac bushes against the east side of the house. They were in bloom and the scent was sweet and soothing. He was nearly hidden from view. Speckles, their English setter, crawled in beside him and curled up leaning against Marino whom he considered to be his master. It was a warm and lazy day in early June, and Marino soon dosed off. Twenty or so minutes later, he woke with a start. Although awake, he visualized Mister Eng le in his car on the two-way blacktop highway not far from their house. A large semi carrying cattle to market was headed Engle’s way. Then, suddenly a car from behind the semi tried to pass it. Mister Eng le swerved to avoid a head-on collision. His car jumped the ditch and crashed into a giant Sycamore tree. He was killed instantly. Due to the sparsely populated area it took two days for the news to reach Pauline when she drove to town for groceries. She was quick to recall Mario’s prediction, but not pleased about it. Because of the somewhat strained relation between Marino and her husband she decided to tell Frank about the demise of Mister Eng le, but not about Mario’s prediction. Nor would she tell Marino about Mister Engle’s death. Being only seven at the time, she figured that the boy might brag to his father about having made the prediction. She further feared that Frank would not believe Marino and say that he couldn’t have known, so he must have made up the story after the fact, and that would cause further distance between him and his youngest son. Pauline wanted to let the matter evaporate with the attrition of time. She presumed, and rightly so, that Marino would not tell his brother, because even at that age, the two boys had little to do with each other. So, only Pauline would know of Mario’s prediction. As time evolved, she managed to block it from her mind. But Marino didn’t forget how his prediction was received. So when at age eleven, when Marino envisioned a tornado taking the roof off of the barn and ripping it from its foundation, he decided to not mention it to anyone. If it came true, he would then know for certain that he had some special powers. He hadn’t yet heard of extra sensory perception, so he couldn’t‘ attach that identity to his visionary powers. He feared that a second prediction might cause him problems if mentioned, especially with his father should he find out, and especially if it came true. The next day a cold wave moved in with a vengeance causing a series of tornados all along its front. And true to his premonition, it hit the barn, and the damage was exactly as he had seen it, even to the detail of a broken two by four being driven through the fuel tank of the tractor. He was torn between elation over his ability as a seer, and fear of how it might affect his future in a negative way. Soon after, he asked his mother if he could go to town with her when she shopped for groceries, saying that he wanted to go to the public library. She was delighted to hear that he was interested in reading books other than his school books, and readily agreed to take him. She let him off at the library, and then drove to the grocery store. After explaining to the lady behind the desk what he wanted, as best he could, she understood what he wanted, and with her help, Marino found the section on clairvoyance and other paranormal phenomenon. He checked out two books and waited for his mother to pick him up. When Pauline saw what the books were about, it upset her.

“Of all the books that are in there, why did you choose those?” she asked as she exited the library parking lot and headed home.

“Mom, do you remember when I was around seven years old I predicted Mister Engle’s death?”

“Yes! But I don’t like to be reminded of it. You’d better not let your father see those books.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Good! I don’t believe in things like that, and he certainly doesn’t.”

“It just interests me, that’s all. It won’t hurt to read about it.”

“Just don’t take what you read about it to heart.”

“Okay, mom,” Marino said, not really meaning it.

But contrary to Pauline’s insistence that Marino not tell frank about his psychic powers, she nevertheless told Frank about the boy’s prediction of the death of Mister Eng le, and made Frank promise to not say anything about it to Marino. Thus was planted the seed of Franks suspicions and contempt for his son. Marino had grown to the size that he could barely squeeze between the two lilac bushes, but huddled in the tiny space was the most private place he could be where no one would find and bother him, and he began to read. He found the information exciting, and in his mind it gave his experiences validation. It only took him five days to read both books. When finished, he ask his mother to drive him to the library to return the books.

When Marino was seventeen, he envisioned that Harry Baines would fall out of his canoe when fishing, and drown. Eight days later it happened exactly as Marino had envisioned. Still, Marino told no one of his vision. Finally, he decided to confide with his best friend, Jason Jacobs, two days before graduation, and because he might not see Jason for a while after graduating, Marino felt safe in telling him about his experiences. Contrary to Mario’s concerns, Jason found Mario’s predictions of things that actually happened exciting, and clung to every detail.

“You think I’m lying or bragging about something that isn’t true, don’t you, Jason?” said Marino.

“No! According to my mother, great granny Golden was a clairvoyant. She saw visions. I think it’s exciting. How long have you been that way?”

“My first time was when I was seven, and twice after that.”

“Wow! I wish I could have that gift. But some people have it and some don’t. Hey! Have you heard about what people refer to as ’Spook Cave’?”

“No. What about it?”

“It’s in Arizona somewhere. That’s not far away. I hear its entrance is very small and hard to find. But with your powers, you might be able to find it.”

“Why would I want to do that, Jason?”

“To check it out for ghosts, of course.”

“I’m not so sure I’d like to see ghosts. Besides, I’m just a seer of the future events.”

“Bullshit! If you’re a seer, who knows what other powers you have? I’ve heard that it‘its very near the northeast corner of Arizona. That might be of some help.”

“I might go if you would go with me,” Marino said after giving it some thought. If he succeeded in seeing ghosts, he didn’t want to be alone.

“I’d love too, but my parents have the RV packed to head for a vacation in Montana the day after graduation. And I can assure you that they wouldn’t leave without me. They’d worry about parties, booze, girls and possible trouble, you know. And if I told them I was going with you to seek out ghosts, they for sure wouldn’t leave me behind. But you don’t need me because I don‘t have the gift and couldn‘t see them anyway if they really exist. You should go, Marino.”

“Maybe I will. Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone about any of this.”

“If that’s what you want, I won’t.”

“Thanks, buddy. Wish me luck…I guess.”

“Sure. Good luck, Marino. If you’re back home when we get back from vacation, let’s go on a fishing trip.”

“You’re on! Well, I’d better get back home. See ya, Jason.”

“Yeah, see ya, Marino.”

Saying goodbye to friends after the graduation ceremony was over didn’t take long. Because of his own choosing, Marino had few friends, although he was close to Jason who also didn’t have many friends. Because Jason was exceedingly attractive, he did have several dates, but few male friends. Marino dated only one girl for most of their Senior year and had sex a few times. Marino did say goodbye to her. Now it was work, work, work in the fields for springtime planting. But that ended abruptly when he and his brother got into a fist fight over who got to mow the first crop of alfalfa, and who had to clean the manure from the horse’s stalls in the barn. Frank saw the fight and broke it up. Although Jordan had started the fight, Frank took his side and sent Marino to the house and assigned him the task of removing the manure. After finishing the removal and laying down fresh straw, Marino went straight to his room, pouting and angry. The more he though about it, the angrier he became. He was fed up with his father always favoring his brother. As he sat on the edge of his bed stewing, he made a snap decision. He would seek out and drive to the infamous cave the next day if he could find it. Unbeknownst to anyone, he packed a suitcase, and after the evening meal and everyone went off to bed, he sneaked down stairs and robbed the refrigerator, stuffing food and canned goods into his gym bag. Then he quietly crept out of the house and got into his small pickup truck. He started the truck and drove slowly down the private lane until he was well out of hearing range, then he sped up and turned onto the substandard highway and drove five miles to the filling station and filled the tank and bought a map of Arizona. He penciled the highways he would take, then started on his trip. He liked driving at night because he didn’t have to contend with a lot of car and truck traffic or have to face many glaring headlights. After nearly four hours of driving, lack of sleep was catching up with Marino, so he decided to stop at the nearest truck stop and grab a few winks. Also, he wanted to top out the tank. The last thing he wanted was to run out of gas in the middle of nowhere. It was another twenty minutes before he saw a truck stop. He filled the tank, then pulled to the side of the restaurant and laid the length of the seat and dozed off. When he woke, the sun was glaring in his eyes. He yawned and got out and went in the restaurant for breakfast. Several semis were parked across from the restaurant, and the booths were all filled and not many empty stools at the counter. He straddled one and waited for the waitress. The man on the stool to his left looked at him curiously.

“You’re too young to be a trucker,” said the burly man. He wore a four day stubble and looked tough as nails. “Where ya go’n?”

“What ya have’n?” asked the fat red-haired waitress.

“Two over easy, two sausages, toast and coffee, please,” said Marino.

“Two light sleepers! Two links and toast!” yelled the waitress to the chef in the kitchen.

“Like I said, where ya headed, son?” asked the burly driver.

“To find a cave notorious for its legend of ghosts,” said Marino.

“You’re fucking with my head. Ain’t no such thing as ghosts.”

“I know, but, uh…but I’m trying to be a writer of fiction.”

“Of what?”

“Fiction about strange things.”

“Your fingers are chafed and there’s dirt in the cracks. Don’t look like no writer to me.”

“I’m the son of a rancher. A small ranch. I’m just trying to be a writer for the fun of it. Have you heard of such a notorious cave in these parts?”

“Yeah, twice. It’s all bullshit.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“No, and not interested. Maybe you should ask the waitress. She lives around here. She might know.”

“I’ll do that,” said Marino.

“Watch the plate, it’s hot,” said the waitress as she slid the food in front of Marino.

“Smells good, miss. I’ve got a question. Have you heard of a haunted cave somewhere around here?”

“Yeah. Foolish kids go there hoping to see a spirit. Can you imagine that? Don’t tell me you are looking for it too.”

“Like I told this guy, I’m a fiction writer. Can you tell me where it is?”

“Just west of here somewhere, so I hear. I’ve got freshly baked apple pie if you’re interested.”

“I’ll pass. My coffee, please. You forgot it.”

“Oh, sure.”

“This highway runs more or less south,” Marino said to the waitress.

“Take the one near here that runs west? Three or so miles south of here. I’ve got to wait on other customers and don‘t have time for this foolishness. Ghosts? What a joke! I’ll get your coffee now.”

“Thanks,” Marino said, and began eating.

When finished, he used the men’s room, then got back in his truck. When he found the west bound blacktop he turned onto it. Now where? he wondered. Ten miles passed beneath the truck, and Marino had no idea where or how far away the cave might be. After another mile, he felt the urge to stop. He pulled onto the shoulder and got out. He looked in all directions, but saw nothing that offered a clue. Frustrated, he stepped to the front of the truck and leaned back against the grille. He closed his eyes and tried to conjure an image. In a surprisingly short time, one came to him as clear and detailed as a photograph. He jerked to attention and look northwest at a low cliff of rock that spread far. It was only a short walk away. Near the center, the cliff formed a V shape that matched the image perfectly. He got the flashlight from the glove compartment and locked the truck and crossed the ditch and headed for it. There was very little fauna except for tumbleweeds and an occasional clump of small cactus. Fearing rattlesnakes, he scanned the ground ahead of him. As he grew near, he saw a fissure in the wall that widened toward the earth. When he reached the area he saw that there was a small cave opening. Beside the entrance, painted crudely in white paint was a sign. spooks inside. BOO! He guessed the signage had be have been painted by youngsters as a joke. But this was no joke to Marino. With some luck from the waitress at the truck stop and the vision he had received, he’d found the exact place that Jason, had spoken of. Or perhaps what the waitress had unwittingly told him was more than mere coincidence. Maybe that too was meant to happen, he thought. Anyway, he wasn’t going to find out anything by standing and looking at the cave entrance. The entrance was about three times his shoulder-to-shoulder width. He ventured into it and felt the coolness of the air inside. He slowly made his way forward and switched on the flashlight and evaluated his surroundings. As he advanced he saw bats clinging to the ceiling and bat dung on the cave floor. He caught a slight whiff of ammonia from the bat dung as he walked across it. The space was slowly getting smaller, and no sign of anything out of the ordinary. He wondered if he had wasted his time. Then he squatted down and closed his eyes and switched off the flashlight and tried to conjure an image. After several minutes of deep concentration he lost his balance and fell forward, hands down in bat dung. As he struggled back to a squatting position he heard very soft moaning. Chills ran through him. He felt around for the flashlight, but couldn’t find it. When he looked up again he was shocked. In hazy muted smoke-like form were images of at least ten native Indians. Most were men. All were standing and looking at him. Blood stains were on their cloths made of skins from animals. On one male image, blood stains started from an ugly slit in his throat. An image of another man had blood running down his face from a bullet hole in his forehead. The expressions on all of their faces were solemn as they coldly stared at Marino. Then it hit Marino like a bolt of lightning. These people had been driven into the cave, herded like animals, then ruthlessly slaughtered. The bullet holes suggested that white men were responsible. The thought saddened Marino and tears began to well in his eyes. The muted images began to float toward Marino like puffs of smoke until all of them surrounded Marino within four feet. Mario’s blood ran cold. His lips trembled as he tried to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “The people who killed you were horrible ignorant people. Try to forgive their ignorance.”

Then Marino broke into uncontrollable crying. He rocked back and forth on his feet as he squatted before them, bawling like he’d never cried before with his head between his knees looking down at the bat dung and arms wrapped around his legs, locked there by intertwined fingers. Moments later when he had cried all he could, he felt something very cold on his shoulder. He looked up, and through his tears he saw that the image of the elderly man with the slit throat was leaning over him. Telepathically Marino heard him say in a soft tone that sounded distant…

“You can not be held accountable for the sins of your ancestors. Your tears speak of your kind nature my son. They have told us what is in your heart. We will give you something to remember us by. Take it and go in peace, my child.”

Then all of the muted images floated away a few feet. Then they all pointed toward one place on the dung to the front and near left of him. In the blackness, Marino could see nothing. Then the images melted away like dissipating fog and soon were gone. Marino again felt around for his flashlight, finding it easily. He shinned it on the area where the ghosts had pointed, but saw nothing. He began to feel around in the dried dung. Still nothing. Then he clawed at the dung. Suddenly he yelled and jerked his hand back. He shinned the flashlight on his index finger and saw that it was bleeding slightly. Then he shinned it on the spot where he had been digging. The light flashed on something that reflected. With his other hand, Marino began to carefully dig around the object. He soon uncovered a beautifully persevered knife with a seven inch blade made of black obsidian, a material highly prized by the Indians for its easy workability and its glass-like sharpness. The handle was made from a deer antler. Tree resin and animal sinew lashed the two pieces together. The antler was also well preserved, perhaps by the bat dung, Marino surmised. So, that was the gift offered to Marino to presumably remember the ghosts of the murdered Indians he had seen. Marino again began to sob. He looked around, but there were no signs of the ghosts or signs that they had been there. No footprints in the spongy bat dung…nothing. He rose to his feet and again looked at where he had first seen the images.

“Thank you,” he said. “I will never forget you. Goodbye.”

Marino slowly made his way toward the entrance. After being in the darkness of the cave for so long, he had to shield his eyes as he stepped into the glaring sunlight. He walked away a few steps, then turned for one last look at the cave. He heaved a sigh of sadness, then turned away and languidly walked on to his truck. He sat for several minutes in the driver’s seat, looking at the fissure that lead to the cave in the wall of solid rock. Then he looked at the beautiful knife. Did the owner manage to kill a white man with it before being killed? he wondered. Marino took off a shoe and a sock He used the sock for a sheath to protect the edge of the sharp but delicate obsidian blade. Then he put the knife and flashlight in the glove compartment and put on his shoe. He then did a U-turn and stopped to fill up before heading home. He now knew that the cave was truly haunted, and that he would forever be haunted by what he had witnessed. He could hardly wait for Jason to return from his holiday in Montana to report what he found.

When he parked the truck in front of the small ranch house he dreaded going in. He was bound to be questioned about where he had sneaked off to without telling anyone where he was going. The western sky glowed a brilliant red and orange, crowning the setting sun. Soon night would follow with cooler air and the occasional howling of a coyote . He left the knife in the glove compartment and carried his suitcase into the house. Frank was watching TV. He looked at Marino with scorn. The air smelled sweet with the scent of a pot roast. When Pauline saw Marino, she turned off the burner and joined Frank in the living room.

“Sit down in that chair, young man!” demanded Frank.

Jordan stepped out of the kitchen holding a quart container of orange juice, and wiped his mouth then grinned.

“Where in the hell did you go off to?” barked Frank.

The last thing Marino wanted to disclose was the fact that he’d seen ghosts. As he looked at the scorn on Frank’s face, something came over him. He brandished a frown of his own.

“I’m a man now! Don’t talk to me like I’m a child beholden to explain every action I take,” said Marino with fearsome conviction.

Mario’s words took everyone by surprise. Frank’s face and neck turned red with anger. Marino wondered if Frank would rise from the couch and come over and slap him hard.

“If you’re so much of a man now,” said Frank, “maybe you should get your ass out on your own and see what it’s like to not have your meals cooked and a roof over your head. When it comes to hard work, you never could keep up with your brother. You don’t belong on a ranch where you have to work hard.”

“I work hard. You’re just partial to Jordan and always have been. If you want me to leave, I will. Just give me a week, or two at the most.”

“Frank! Don’t be such a hard nose,” Pauline said. “If he wants to stay you should let him. But if Marino wants to leave, at least give him some time to find a job first.”

“I want to leave, but not until Jason and his family get back from their trip. He’s my best friend, and I want to say goodbye. I’m staying until then whether dad likes it or not.”

Jordan was standing behind his parents wearing an exaggerated smirk.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Jordan, before I knock it off,” said Marino, looking like he might lunge at Jordan any moment as he passed on his way to the stairs.

The only sound Marino heard as he climbed the stairs with his back to them was that of the TV. He entered his room and slammed the door, then threw himself onto the bed on his back. He felt his pulse throb in his neck, not from fear, but from anger. He was weary and nearly asleep when his mother knocked on his bedroom door.

“Honey, it’s time to eat. Please come down.”

“Eat without me!”

“I talked to your dad. He promised he won’t cause any trouble, son. Please come down.”

“Alright, mom. I stood up to him, and I’m sure as hell not backing down!”

Marino lurched from his bed and followed Pauline down the stairs and to the dinning room table where he took his place. Jordan wouldn’t look at Marino. It was the first time Marino had seen Jordan look unsure of himself. Frank glanced at Marino, then grabbed the bowl of mashed potatoes, took some, and passed the bowl to Pauline. His jaws were clinched in anger, but he said nothing. Tension hung heavy. Pauline quietly continued passing food around. She looked hurt. No words were exchanged throughout the meal. When Marino was finished, he got up and went back up to his room without a word. The day’s events had been tumultuous, and he soon fell asleep with his clothes on. He tossed all night as he recalled in his dreams the images of the slain Indians. He now knew that not only could he foretell the future when future events chose to reveal themselves, he could also see images from the past. He wondered if the gift might be more of a curse than a blessing.

The following week was more of the same. The only real change was that Jordan no longer harassed Marino in any way. During meals, conversation was sparse and only between Pauline and Frank or Frank and Jordan. This pleased Marino, and he refused to lend a hand doing work, except for washing the dishes and mowing the fenced-in yard. In mid afternoon on the following Sunday, the phone rang. Thinking that it might be Jason, Marino rushed to answer it. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi, Marino. We’re back. Dad and I had a great time fishing. Caught mostly Walleyes. Why don’t you come over and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Can I ask a big favor?”

“Sure, if I can do it. What is it?”

“Could I come and spend the night?”

“That would be terrific. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll see you about seven after dinner.”

“Great! Did you go on your trip to find the cave?”

“We’ll talk about it then. See you, buddy.”

“See ya, friend.”

Marino lowered the receiver onto the cradle.

“Was that your friend, Jason?” asked Pauline.

“It was, mother. I’m spending the night with him.”

“Oh! Well…, okay,” Pauline said with a hint of trepidation.

Marino went upstairs and packed an overnight bag and stuffed all of the clothes he could get in a suitcase, then tried to kill time by reading an abandoned novel that had been read halfway through. At six forty-five he went downstairs and told his mother that he was leaving to spend the night with Jason and might be invited to breakfast.

“Why?” Pauline asked. “Are you still mad?”

“No. Bad blood between me and my dad and Jordan was not my idea. I think I’ve made it clear that I’m now my own boss. See you tomorrow.”

Pauline felt helpless and shut out, but said nothing. But Marino had no intentions of returning home. He kissed her on the cheek and got in his truck and took the knife from the glove compartment and put it in his gym bag, then drove to Jason’s house. Jason answered the door.

“Hey, man, come on in,” said Jason.

Marino smiled and entered. But his smile quickly vanished as his glance froze on Jason’s eyes. Something didn’t seem fight, but he didn’t understand his own reaction.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you look a little pale,” Jason said. “Do you feel alright? If you have a headache, I’ll get you some aspirins and a glass of water.”

Marino blinked, then looked away.

“No need for that,” he said. “I’ll be alright in a minute. Are you sure that your parents are okay with my staying the night?”

“Sure, no problem. They’re both in the kitchen. Mom’s washing the dinner dishes, and dad’s having a second cup of coffee. I’m eager to hear about your trip to the cave.”

“Not here. Let’s go upstairs to your room.”

“Okay. Did you have a problem finding it?”

“I said…, not down here!” Jason said assertively.

Jason quickly led the way upstairs, then closed the bedroom door.

“Why all the secrecy, Marino?”

“Because I don’t want curious people to hear about what I saw in the cave and go there. Nor do I want people to know about my gift as a seer.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“Good! Than I have something very special to show you.”

Marino set the overnight bag on the dresser and took out the knife.

“Wow, man! Where did you get that?”

Marino left out nothing, including the waitress who gave him the first clue as to the general whereabouts of the cave. He observed the flux in Jason’s expressions as each detail was revealed. Jason did not interrupt even once. When nearly finished, Marino concluded with the details about the gift of the knife.

“They pointed to where it was,” he said. “All I could see was dried bat shit, guano, as the Spanish call it. I started brushing it aside where they had pointed, and finally found it. Every time I look at it, I’ll be reminded of the ghostly visions of those poor spirits I saw.”

Jason was spellbound. Finally he spoke.

“That is an awesome tale. Such unconscionable brutality. And the fact that the spirits allowed you to see them. You must feel very humbled.”

“I do. Let me tell you, I was at first very frightened. But when they forgave me my ancestors’ sins was the most poignant moment of all. I started crying like a child.”

“I wish I could see them. I envy your powers.”

“My mouth is dry. Would you get us both a pop? Any kind will do.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

By asking for a pop, Marino was buying time to think about how he would break the news that he was moving away.

“Here you are,” Jason said as he closed the bedroom door.

“Thanks. Jason. I have to leave the ranch. My dad and brother don’t like me and will always make my life miserable.”

“Fuck! You’re the best and almost the only friend I have. Where will you move to?”

“Phoenix.”

“I don’t want to operate heavy machinery like my dad. Why don’t I go with you?”

“Because I’ll only stay there long enough to save up money to move to Tibet and study with the monks if they’ll allow me too, and hopefully increase my psychic powers. I would like to become a healer.”

“That’s an awesomely ambitious and beautiful goal. I wish you luck.”

“Can we go to bed now? I want to wake early and get started. It’s a fair distance to Phoenix.”

They stripped to their underwear and slid beneath the covers, then turned to face each other.

“Jason.”

“What?”

“Before graduation, you were occasionally seeing Barbara Beacham. Are you serious about her?”

“Kind of. Why do you ask?”

“You will marry someday and raise a family, won’t you?”

“I certainly plan to. I fantasize about fathering two children with a beautiful young woman. Like most men, I’d prefer both to be boys. But if both are girls, I’ll love them too. What about yourself, Marino? You’ll of course get married…right?”

“I have no idea. The future will take care of it’s self. From seeing my premonitions play out, I’ve learned that I have no control over my future, nor do you or anyone else, really. I believe that destiny serendipitously rules, and we can do nothing about it except get the most out of life.”

“That’s an odd thing to say. What makes you so sure?”

“I’m not sure. I’m beginning to feel like I’m teetering on a tightrope, or traversing a high wall four inches thick. If I fall to one side, I’ll find myself in the normal world where a person goes about whatever he does until he dies. But if I fall to the other side, I’ll find myself in an ambiguous fog where nothing is predictable except premonitions that I can do nothing about. When you opened the door this evening and greeted me, in your eyes I saw a great distance, but not in miles. I thought I was experiencing another premonition, but unlike before, it went blank and remained incomplete. I don’t know what it meant, but the feeling it left me with was dire. That unnerves me. Well, we’d better hush and go to sleep. I want to get an early start tomorrow on my trip to Phoenix. Goodnight, Jason.”

“Goodnight, my friend. I hope you have a peaceful sleep.”

They turned with their backs to each other and settled in. But Marino lie awake, thinking about what he saw in Jason’s eyes. He only knew that it’s meaning was not good, and feared that when he departed the next morning he would never see Jason again, nor would he again see his parents or anyone else he had ever known. As he thought about it, he realized that Jason had fallen asleep. Marino felt totally alone as if no one else in the world existed. Eventually, he dozed off.

Jason woke first and shook Marino.

“Get up, buddy. Mom will soon have breakfast ready.”

Marino opened his eyes, yawned and heaved a sigh.

“I’m not staying for breakfast,” he said. “I want to get under way. I won’t even take the time to shower.”

“Stinky Marino…yuk!” Jason teased.

“Would you like to smell my socks?” Marino teased back.

“No, smart ass. Nor anything else. Now drag your ass out of bed and get dressed. And don’t forget anything. I’ll see you to your truck and wave you off.”

When finished dressing, Marino zipped up the gym bag and grabbed the suitcase. Then he saw the obsidian knife on the dresser. Rather than take the time to unzip the gym bag and put it in, he quickly slipped it under the front of his shit and let it drop to his belt. Jason held the front door open for him and went with him to the truck. Saying goodbye was a deeply melancholy experience for both young men, but both managed a false smile as Marino started the truck and waved goodbye through his open window. A block away, Marino looked in the rear view window and through blurred vision he saw Jason still standing there, waving. He blinked away a tear. When he turned onto the two-way blacktop, he shoved the peddle to the floor and held it at seventy-five although the speed limit was fifty-five. As the left front tire rolled swiftly past the broken white lane divider, Marino began to feel uneasy, but he couldn’t define what was bothering him. After two and a half hours, the blacktop was heating under the sun. The unseasonably early heat wave had moved in. Marino briefly felt a shimmy in the steering wheel before he heard a loud pop. The front-right tire had blown. The truck veered to the right. Marino turned the wheel sharply to the left in an effort to keep the truck on the highway, but he failed. The pickup went over the edge and onto it’s side and began to roll over and over down a steep embankment. Marino, his suitcase and the gym bag were tossed around like confetti in a breeze. When the rolling truck stopped on it’s crunched roof, Marino landed on the inside of the roof with a thud. He felt a searing pain as the obsidian blade cut between his ribs and sliced into his heart. As he gasped for air, he now understood the fulfillment of the partial premonition. His eyes rolled back and he struggled for one more breath. The pungent scent of ammonia filled his lungs, and he heard whispering before his heart stopped beating.

“You are free now friend. The spirits of the Zuni nation welcome you to share our eternity in the eternal darkness of the cave with the winged ones above us that sleep by day and hunt by night. Come, Marino.”