Rain. Normally rain is considered the ultimate sign of a day that has been ruined. We’ve all seen it in the movies; that moment where that main character gets his girlfriend stolen and says:“Whelp, it can’t get worse,” when rain just pours down on him. Well, I like to think differently.
I see rain as the life giving force it is, bringing relief to a company of firefighters fighting a rapidly spreading wildfire or dehydrated wild life in a desert. I see the cup half full of rain, but, right now I don’t feel that way.
My name is Eric Winters and right now I am stuck in traffic because of a mud slide blocking the middle of the road due to, you guessed it, rain.
I had had a tough day at the Maine Wildlife Park, I’m just a “Desk Jockey” as Bridget Nightingale says. Everything was going fine, I was ahead of schedule on my paperwork and thought I could get home before the rain started, but I thought too soon. Bridget came in right as I finished my last paper, told me that her boss had over worked her and that she needed my help; why me I’ll never know. It was just like her to take advantage of my inability to say no to any other women other than my mother.
She wanted me to feed the mountain lions and that sounded like a piece of cake, just throw the meat into the habitat and get on with your life, but like before, I thought too soon. Bridget told me that I first had to find the mountain lions, that they were hiding for some reason or another. I called her out of this, but she pulled rank so I couldn’t do a thing, that and she passed the high level zoology courses I couldn’t.
So I scouted the habitat pushing a cart filled red meat, about twenty pounds of the stuff, but I couldn’t find them. I wasted twenty minutes looking for the damn cats while Bridget worked on her other tasks before I got fed up and threw the meat off of the side and headed to clock out.
When I got into my 2002 ford focus I heard the first plinks of rain drops hitting my windshield, but when I left the zoo’s parking lot, the rain was pouring so hard that I had to turn my wipers up to full just to see where I was going. Two minutes later I was on the road going about twenty miles an hour in a forty zone, but there were two lanes so no one complained.
A large embankment of dirt encroached on my left narrowing the road to one lane. I had a feeling of trepidation, like something bad was going to happen. I thought too soon.
There was no warning other than a low rumble on my left, and the tail lights of the car in front of me disappeared so fast I thought the red dots blinked. Even at the slow speed I was going my brain didn’t have enough time to connect the dots and before the tail lights had time to open their eyes again, I rear ended him. I stared at the red lights, four thumps, each softer than the last, coming from behind me as more cars collided with one another.
My first reaction wasn’t anger, I was better than that and didn’t go through two years of anger management for nothing, no, it was confusion. Where did the car go? Why am I face down against the steering wheel?
I don’t know how long I sat there before someone was on the other side of the window.
“Tap tap”
I flinched, like I was waking up from a dreamless sleep. Looking up I rolled down my window, feeling the rain crash against my cheek, a young white man wearing a rain soaked white button down shirt was looking at me.
“Are you alright?”
I shook myself, feeling lightheadedness flee my mind in a puff of smoke. “What happened?” I said, my voice sounding dry and cracked.
“It was a landslide,” his voice sounded eerily familiar and I found myself looking him up and down.”It was small though and with some help we could push my car out before a bigger one happens.”
“I told the city council to build a retaining wall on that hill or at least plant some oaks or something, but no, they spend the money on refining the fire department.” I said, shaking off the last of the fog from the crash. “I mean, I respect firefighters and all, and that they saved two families from burning buildings this week, but—”
“Man, I’d love to hear about how much you hate the city council, but there might be another landslide soon. So can you help?”
“Sure, I’ll help you.” I moved to get out quick to help push his car, but was stopped.
“I’m not saying physically help.” he said motioning to his trapped Ford Pilot. “I want your car to push it out of the way.”
I saw through the pounding rain that my focus was lined up just right. “But what about damages?”
“Don’t worry about that, just give me your phone number and we’ll have our lawyers talk it out. That’s what they’re there for, right?” there was a stupid grin on his face. “I just want to get home before my mother worries about me.”
“Sure, but you should really have more respect for your lawyers, ah”
“Drake, Drake Manwell”
“Drake, right, listen if I do any damage to your car it’s not my fault.” I took pen and paper from my glove compartment, having to sift through my registration to find the ball point pen. “Okay… here you go, now why don’t you be a good man and tell the other drivers what happened while I focus on getting us home.”
“Okay!” he said before adding in a solemn tone I attributed to the dreary conditions. “Mom would be so proud.” he moved off to the next car and once I heard him tapping on the window of the next car I rolled up my window.
I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could, but when I thought through “Momma’s boy’s” plan I found that he just wanted to take credit and use it to impress his mother, but Drake didn’t even think of trying to drive out of the fallen dirt, and to make things worse, there might be another landslide any second.
Looking out the window, I saw that the white collar was heading back to his car. “Maybe one of the other drivers told him about his stupidity?” I felt the rain pound the hood of my car, every moment spent idle was another moment under a loaded gun, and I don’t think being buried six feet under is good for my health.
I honked my horn, hearing its shrill cry pierce the dull drumming of the rain helped bring me to my senses and hopefully told Drake to hurry up. I could see him fumble into the drivers seat, buckle his seatbelt and I felt the car move out of the couple inches of dirt, but I could hear a loud rumbling coming from the left and almost instantaneously floored my car.
The Pilot’s rear crumpled under the attack and I could feel my adrenaline rush as I pushed his car past the incoming soil. I heard tiny pellets hit my windows and felt the guard rail scratch my paint job, but was relieved to find myself on the other side of the giant mound of dirt. I was also relieved to find that none of the other cars had followed and a smile grew on my face at the thought of them waiting a few hours before getting to their easy chairs and watching 9 news at 11.
I drove up to the “Momma’s boy” and rolled down my window.
“Why the hell did you do that!”
“Call me tomorrow, name’s Eric, we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” I rolled the window back up and drove off before he could say anything else.
I was finally free; it took that idiot way too long to drive his car out of the dirt, but now I was free to go home and take a ten minute shower. I didn’t want to think about writing a four hundred dollar check for a fender bender repair at my local meinekes.
After dodging a deer two turns away from the home stretch, the ride home was smooth as silk and five minutes later I was driving up my driveway.
My home was a small one story cottage about three miles from the park.
As I slid my car onto the driveway, I saw that all of the lights were out, making my house look like a giant monster, ready to snatch you up. There were no streetlights out here and my closest neighbor was about a half a mile away so I was completely blind when walking up my walkway, but I didn’t care.
I put my Focus in park, took out the keys and grabbed my umbrella from the back and opened the door to a torrent of rain. Hearing the muffled “meep meep” of the doors locking I walked up the flagstone walkway counting each stone I hit to keep track of my location. There were twelve stones and I was on stone 9, about the point where the walkway turned to the right just before heading to the door, when I tripped on something unexpected.
“Fuck,” I said as a wave of shock gripped my body; my hands caught my fall and the stones were smooth so I didn’t have any uninvited guests making residence in my palms. The only thing that was bruised was my pride.
I hadn’t been expecting any packages, but I retraced my online purchases, when that came up empty I became officially confused. I groped around in the dark, rain soaking my exposed arm, in hope of finding the perpetrator.
I had to whip out my cell phone to give light to my situation. “Maybe I should have gotten that porch light?” I said as I made out a handle like silhouette.
When I bought this cottage three years ago I was given the option of adding either a security system or air conditioning. The cottage was low budget and since it was made of wood, and linkin logs and electricity can cause fire, it would be hard to install a safe air conditioning without extra funds, plus, some husky limberjacks want to “rough it” and don’t want air conditioning. I had no plans of “roughing it” so I opted for the air conditioning; this meant that I wasn’t going to get a front porch light (in hindsight I think I should have fought a little harder on that, but that’s water under the bridge) they were even offering the newest Biotite model, the one with a carbon filter that some how makes it that you can see everything in your lawn while not disturbing your neighbors, ir some sort of bull shit like that.
I grabbed the handle and walked the last three stones. Getting to my door is one thing, unlocking it, a whole different beast. I dropped my keys twice, a nervous bolt passing through me everytime I heard the plastic key chain smack against the ground, but eventually I got the key in the lock and twisted it open.
I was greeted by man’s best friend as, Bane, my five year old black lab, hurried to meet his master, I felt a warm fire flicker in my heart and set the picnic basket down on the hardwood floor, kneeling just in time to get my face licked off.
“Good to see you too, Bane,” I said as I was assaulted by a trained dog tongue. “You ready for dinner?” That got him going. He stared at the ground and spun in a circle, using his head as a sort of pivot point. I don’t know if it’s some kind of remanence of his puppyhood, or just something that made him tick, either way it always got a laugh out of me.
I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing the bag of “Dog Chow” from the cabinet, and poured the meaty chunks into the green plastic bowl while Bane yipped and howled like a child who wants the candy bar in their father’s hands.
“Dig in!” I said, letting Bane to attack his food.
I slowly backed away, knowing how protective Bane is of his possessions. It might be the wolf in him, or the fact that he’s a rescue, but I wasn’t about to mess with him right now.
With Bane satisfied, I walked out of the kitchen, noticing the rain pelting the window above the sink, and went to investigate the picnic basket.
The wicker basket was unlike anything I’d seen, but then again, this is the first time I’d been given a basket like this. It was like the basket the Easter bunny holds with a long arch of twisted wicker making the handle and a half egg shaped cup holding the eggs, but instead of eggs there was a blue blanket covering the contents. On closer inspection, I saw that what I thought was a blanket wasn’t a blanket at all.
That and what was housed inside the basket was breathing!
I panicked a little bit, unsure whether to grab some towels or take Bane and run for the hills. I decided on the towels and ran down the hallway towards the laundry room, grabbing three separate starch white towels before rushing back to the basket.
I wrapped the critter in one of them, feeling its loose fur catch with the fibers in the towel, and headed to the living room. I put a new log in the fireplace, took some of the lint from the dryer, struck a match and felt the instant heat hit my face. Using another towel I made a mat so the soaked thing didn’t have to lie on the cold wooden floor. It was shaking violently, which meant hypothermia hadn’t taken full hold yet. Its sporadic breathing got me nervous, but once the warmth of the fire hit it, its breathing thankfully calmed down.
When it looked to be blissfully asleep, I took another look at the basket. There was no blanket, but taped onto the wicker pole was a note that looked ready to melt. Getting a closer look I saw that the ink was only a little runny and I could still make out the words.
Please help my daughter, her name is Eclipse.
Signed, Orion
“Orion? Eclipse? is this some kind of prank?” I said. Rereading the note three times to see if something new popped up that would explain the freezing puppy that was currently sleeping the cold off by my fireplace, but there was nothing.
Looking at the blue puppy I thought about a breed of dog that had blue fur, but nothing came up. A stroke of trepidation crept up my spine as the thought of the unwelcomed guest being hostile and I found myself reaching for one of the knives from the drawer, but stopped myself. If it was hostile, Bane would take it down, he’s protective of me as well as his food. Fear ebbing away I sat down on the couch opposite the fireplace, grabbed a book and waited for “Eclipse” to wake up.
They say that listening to someone’s heartbeat helps you fall asleep. It might be the dependable soft thumping distracting your mind and allowing for your tiredness to take control or some kind of chemical that gets released, I don’t know, but what they don’t talk about is that heavy rain puts you to sleep.
While I read I could hear the harsh pitter patter of the rain, but I ignored it and focused on my book. It was just getting to the good part when I decided to close my eyes for a moment, then ‘wham’ I was out cold.
I woke up when Bane barked at something. Bane isn’t one to bark for no reason, I learned that in the first few months A few times I had to find him at the doggy play park he was so quiet. It was strange for him to be my alarm clock.
I rubbed my eyes to get rid of the sleep; when I opened my eyes again I saw the fire (while dimming) was still glowing, there were three lonely towels lying just in front of the fireplace and Bane was conversing with a tiny unicorn.
“Wait, huh?”
I shook my head like I was trying to get a crazy squirrel to let go of my brain and took a second look. It was the same blue thing I found in the basket, no bigger than a six week old puppy, it seemed to be frightened and clutched Bane’s leg for dear life.
I got up, flinching as the book fell from my chest, hitting the floor with a loud bang; Eclipse flinched too, hugging Bane’s leg tighter, her eyes staring at me with a frightening purple hue. Those eyes darted around the room like a scared child. I was beginning to question if “Eclipse” was a dog or somekind of abomination that stole a human soul and acted like it was human. I shook my head again, it was too early to make those kinds of judgements.
Moving closer I could hear Eclipse’s frantic breathing and almost expected Bane to growl at me, but that would never happen, Bane trusts me more than anyone. I stretched my hand out in confidence, and placed it on top of the black lab’s head. A tiny gasp escaped Eclipse’s mouth, barely audible with the overbearing sound of rain, and a moment later she bolted, running underneath the couch I slept on. Scratching behind his ear, Bane gave a confused “Arf?” and tilted his head in the direction Eclipse ran to. I sat down next to him, wrapping both arms around his waist, shaking him until he licked me to death.
I heard what sounded like muffled cries coming from under the couch and let Bane investigate. He put his sniffer to good use finding Eclipse in no time. I could see her form back itself against the wall, her cries getting louder, but surprisingly I found myself quickly getting bored or rather tired.
I got up and headed into the kitchen, planning to make some quick dinner, maybe a sandwich or one of those Digiorno pizzas I picked up last week. I settled for the sandwich and quickly finished.
I could see the dirt that dug its way underneath my fingernails from working all day. Putting the plate in the sink I made my way across the hallway, ignoring the black lab that was licking the forehead of a blue unicorn filly, and took a shower.
Nothing felt right as I put my last pair of pajama pants on, the rain seemed far away, yet I could hear it pounding at my windows; I felt distant from the world, like I was going through my room at warp speed, distorting my grasp on reality. By the time I got under the thick covers, the sound of rain turned into relentless crying and I was beginning to wonder if Bridget put something in the noodles I had for lunch, but before I could question anything, I was out.
Sawing logs the moment my head hit the pillow, and while my fear abated into sweet nothings, I knew that Eclipse was a unicorn from another dimension. I knew she would ask me where her mother was tomorrow and that she would want a bowl of applejacks because they’re named after one of her mother’s friends, but I knew that I didn’t want to know these things. I didn’t want a talking unicorn living under my roof, that would be too out of the norm for a “desk jockey” like myself, maybe a gutsy girl like Bridget, but not me. The last thing I thought before my brain turned in for the day was that Bridget was going to come over tomorrow, and she would find Eclipse cowering under the couch.