familiar, but know to be so. It comes from some far-off place, like it’s a dream—
you shouldn’t be here
—that I can’t be sure I’ve woken up from. He’s still watching me, waiting for some kind of response, but I’m somehow at the river in my dream, still feeling his arm wrapped protectively around my chest, his massive body pressing against my back—
you will drown
—like I need to be saved, like I’m precious and need to be held. My eyes begin to burn because—
i cannot allow that to happen
—part of me doesn’t want this to be a dream. Some small, secret part of me wants this to be real, to have him standing above me and be real because it would mean I am not alone anymore, that even though I’m pretty sure he’s going to kill me, I wouldn’t be alone. My thoughts are suddenly getting muddy, a light haze falling over my vision. Too much, I think. This is all too much.
He leans over and his grin widens. So many teeth. “Benji,” he says, and he sounds so fucking happy that I ache down to my bones, causing me to shudder. He reaches out and touches my right hand, a look of wonder on his face, his dark eyes flashing. I follow his gaze and see the feather still in my hand, bent oddly and ruffled, but still there, somehow.
He looks about to speak again, but then he snaps his head up as he rises quickly, staring off to the west toward Roseland as if he’s been spooked, like he hears something I cannot. I half expect his ears to twitch and stand up away from his head. He’s tense now, his shoulders stiff. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I don’t dare. That sharklike grin is gone, replaced by a growing scowl.
“What is it?” I hear myself ask hoarsely as my vision begins to tunnel. “What’s wrong?”
“Others,” he snaps, his ire evident on his face. “They’re coming. I can see their threads. It’s time to leave.”
“I’m tired,” I say quietly, and my voice sounds so far away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can make it back across.” I close my eyes and start to fall.
Before I’m gone completely, I feel strong arms gather me up, clutching me tightly. As I’m swallowed by the dark, I hear a voice that says, “I will take you safely across the river.” And it follows me down until I’m gone.
In the dark, this is what I hear:
Big Eddie says, “By the time we finish, it’ll be so cherry. You just wait and see, Benji. When we’re done, she’ll purr and gleam, and when the sun hits her just right, your heart will jump in your chest and you’ll know what love really is. And it will shine.”
Nina Fisette says, “There was a time that was blue, when the air around me just blew. We knew he was blue, and knew what to do. I see it, all around. What did you do? He’s blue and what did you do?”
A new voice, a strange voice. “Gonna get you across the river and get you away because they’re coming and I can’t tell who they are. Why can’t I tell who they are? Why is nothing working? Oh, Father, can you hear me? I am but your humble servant. Help me protect Benjamin Edward Green. Help me to do what I must to keep him safe.”
A woman says, “This is Janet Tadesco with Channel Four Action News. I’m at mile marker seventy-seven on the Old Forest Highway just outside Roseland. As you can see behind me, emergency crews are working to remove a pickup truck that appears to have lost control and flipped into the Umpqua River. We’re told the driver and sole occupant was forty-seven-year-old Edward Green from Roseland, who was pronounced dead at the scene. At the moment, it is unclear just how long Green was in the Umpqua and whether or not his death was caused by the impact or if the river played a factor. We’ll have more as this story develops.”
My father: “Ten years old already, Benji? Pretty soon, you’re going to be all grown up and will probably be bigger than I am! You’re going to be a big guy and you will take this whole world by storm. Just you wait.”
Pastor Thomas Landeros says, “Into the ground we lower a man who was a husband. A father. A friend, both to us and this