Chapter Seven - The Reunion
Harrod
When my dad returns from work that night, he calls me into his room.
“Harrod,” he begins. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about the other day?”
“I thought it was a dream, or that you were joking,” I say.
“Tell me, Harrod,” he says in an ominous tone. “In all the time you have known me, do I come across as a person who jokes or fucks around with people?”
I shake my head.
“Then why would I joke about who we are?”
“It’s just hard to believe, to take in all this supernatural stuff just because you say so.”
“Very well,” he says. “You will head to the farmlands tomorrow. I’ll let Grandpa know you’re coming. I am sure you’ll be excited to see your brother. The next full moon is not for another three weeks. You will have plenty of time to understand and get used to things. As you have implied, you will believe things when you see them.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say. I have always wanted to go to the farmlands, but my dad has never allowed me. Now that I can actually go, I’m not sure whether I’m excited or not.
“I am. I’ll send in your clearance early. You leave at noon tomorrow. It’s best to get there while the sun is out. Pack your things.”
“Okay,” I say, excited.
Around 11:30 the next day, Gabe knocks on my door. “Sir, the jet will be ready to depart in half an hour. I have already loaded your bags.”
I walk down the stairs and across the gardens to the runway. The heat is radiating from the dark asphalt, as though there’s water boiling underneath. After the security swipe, the officers clear me to go. I hop on board and prepare for a reunion with my brother. I wonder what he’ll be like, how tall he’ll be, whether he’ll have missed me, what his personality will be like, etc.
I fall asleep soon after take-off. When I wake up, I head to the pilot’s cabin.
“Drew? I didn't know you could fly planes.”
“It’s how your father prefers it,” he says.
“And why is there no hostess on board?”
“Your father’s instructions.”
“Weird,” I say.
“Oh, you have no idea,” he says savagely. “Enjoy the view,” he says. “We’re almost there.”
I go back to my seat and open the shutter. All I see down below are snow-capped mountains and jumbo trees. If I didn’t know better, I’d wager we were in the Swiss Alps, but it takes a lot longer to get there, so I know we’re still in the States.
“Buckle up,” says Drew, over the speakers. “It’s gonna get bumpy.”
We land on a small runway in a clearing. Drew opens the door and ushers me out. “I have to head back. They’ll be here soon.”
“Who will be here?” I ask. “Where am I, Drew? There’s nothing here.”
“Your Grandpa has been alerted of your arrival. He’ll come pick you up.”
Drew unloads my luggage and leaves it a little off the runway, then gets back into the plane, nods to me and closes the door. I watch as he turns the plane around, taxis and flies off, disappearing into the clouds. Then I look around. The runway is just a small patch of road that leads nowhere. There are no roads or buildings around. I am standing in a forest on a mountain surrounded by trees. The trees look familiar, like the giant ones I saw in my dreams, but the place is different.
“Hello,” I holler into the emptiness around me. “Is there anyone here?”
There’s a rustling in the trees and the distant howl of a wolf.
“Grandpa,” I shout again, the word tasting strange in my mouth. I can’t really remember the last time I talked to him or saw him. I’d probably seen him back when Harrison was with us. I almost want to run into the woods, out of the clearing, but I stay where I am. I pull out my phone to call my dad but there’s no service here.
Then I hear more howls, closer this time, more terrifying. I take a step back and look around, looking for some tree to climb up in case wild animals attack. In the distance, I see two figures approaching. I can’t tell whether they’re human or not. The white clouds are close to the ground, reducing the visibility.
A man with white hair approaches, with a woman who seems to be in her early forties.
“Harrod,” he shouts, arms opening wide.
“Grandpa?”
“It’s been so long,” he says, hugging me tightly. He’s surprisingly strong for his age. “Oh, boy, I have waited for this for so long.” He kisses me on the cheek, and I pull back.
“How are you?”
“I must be a stranger to you,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me. You sound so formal.”
“That’s natural,” I say. “You just disappeared from my life.”
“You’ll learn we aren’t big on formalities here, boy.” Then he looks at the woman standing next to him. “This is Mishayev. She’ll be your guide and trainer here and will see to all your needs.”
Mishayev smiles and shakes my hand firmly. Her hair is a mix of gray and black streaks, and I can’t tell whether it is white with black streaks or the other way around. She looks intimidating.
“Let’s head back to the village,” he says. “It’s gonna any time now.”
There’s nothing to guide us, no landmarks, no signs, not even a trail. But Grandpa and Mishayev seem to know their way and go through the woods like expert navigators, toward what they call The Den.
When I hear the word Den, all I can think of is stone caves, like the ones I’d seen in The Jungle Book. After fifteen minutes of ambling through the woods, we reach a large fence, thick as prison bars, with two guys wearing fur coats standing guard inside. They let us in and Grandpa turns to me.
“So, first things first. Stay away from the fences, they are high voltage. We aren’t immune to electricity. Don’t go outside without talking to me first. Our Den is vast, so you won’t have to go out. There’s nothing for you outside anyway. You are safe only as long as you are inside the fenced boundary.”
“Okay.”
The trees inside the fence are sparse, taller and mostly crooked, forming a roof over the clearing. There are wooden cabins here and there, with smoke emitting from the chimneys. A large fireplace is set in what seems like a sitting area, and a few guys sitting around the fire drinking. There’s a deer suspended above the fire on a stick to cook.
There’s a great hustle bustle all around, with some children running wild and playing. But my eyes fix on a guy walking towards us. The hairs on my arms stick up as if I’ve been electrocuted as he comes closer. I look into his eyes. There’s something about them, something familiar. My soul trembles when I see him and tears well up in my eyes. It’s as if I’m getting something that I never even knew I longed for.
He’s the same height as me. He’s wearing a fur coat, which looks as though he made it himself. He picks up the pace when he sees me and jogs toward us. Unlike the movies, nothing dramatic happens. He looks at my grandpa with innocent eyes.
“Grandpa, I don’t really—” I begin.
“Grandpa?” the guy says, a look of surprise and shock on his face. His mouth moves but no words come out, as his eyes fix on me.
It’s got to be him. I know it is him. Tears are running down my cheeks.
“Harrison?”