II - Anomaly

Kamon opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, turning his head away from the bright sunshine streaming in through the east window. He closed his eyes and continued to lie motionless. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again to find himself staring at the ceiling, lying on the couch in the living room of his cabin. His eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement as he struggled to organize his thoughts. How had he come to be here?

It had been raining. He had scaled the hill and had turned to run toward the cabin when the lightning had struck -- very close to him; he remembered that.

But how had he come to be here? Had lightning really struck at all? It had happened so suddenly.

Kamon sat up abruptly and walked barefoot to the south window. He looked out upon a beautiful, clear morning. The rain had finally stopped, giving way to a blue sky. A huge Minot tree lay toppled on the ground about fifty yards from the cabin, shattered by nature's immense electrical force.

It had happened. And he had been close by. Too close. He remembered being thrown backward by the tremendous energy of the lightning, his sturdy frame of no consequence by comparison.

He looked down at his clothes. They were ripped and shredded. He was very lucky to be alive. It was almost miraculous.

But how had he survived? How had he reached the cabin?......The voices he had heard in the darkness, who were they?

No. Only one voice, that of a woman. The other had been a thought. It seemed very odd, but that was all it had been. A thought, not a voice.

He could remember only bits and pieces of a conversation, and even that was fading fast, as a dream might. He shook his head in bewilderment, relaxing his furrowed brow. It must have been a dream, he decided. Dreams seemed so very real immediately upon awakening, but then all memories of them quickly faded, just as this one was doing now. It had been a dream.

Kamon looked around the room. The lightning had struck close to the cabin, but his home had obviously been spared. He had been fortunate, indeed. The Minot trees that had once stood on the hill no longer seemed quite so important. This structure that his parents had built was safe. It could very easily have been destroyed.

The wood floor felt cool. He looked down at his bare feet. What had happened to his shoes? And why were his clothes dry? He should be soaked. He must have been unconscious for a very long time. How long? Overnight? It was morning now. Overnight seemed like a reasonable guess.

And how had he reached the cabin? The lightning had obviously rendered him unconscious. Indeed, it should have killed him. But it had not.

Kamon stood motionless, concentrating, trying to remember.

Someone had carried him -- at least it had seemed so. But that was impossible. No one lived out here, only him. There was no one else. The only possible explanation, he concluded, was that he had partially recovered and had risen and made it to the cabin under his own power. Perhaps he had crawled, or possibly he had stumbled along, but it was the only rational scenario. There was no doubt he had been in a stupor, but that is what he must have done.

Still, the gaps in Kamon's theory gnawed at him. Never before had he done anything without remembering it. He had a good memory. In fact, an excellent memory. It had never failed him before. On the other hand, this had been an extraordinary circumstance. He had never been struck by lightning before.

But that thought also nagged at him. He had seen animals struck by lightning, bloated and eerie in death. More important, a distance of fifteen feet from the point at which a charged bolt had hit the ground had not spared them. Yet, he had been that close -- and still he lived. He suffered from no headache, no nausea, no apparent wounds at all. It made no sense. How had he survived totally unscathed? His clothes were tattered. Why was his body not similarly damaged?

His shoes. His thoughts returned to them. Where were they?

Kamon walked out of the living room toward the main entrance to the cabin. The steps leading upstairs were to his right. He turned his gaze to the left. There, on a mat by the front door, were his shoes.

He squatted in front of them and picked one up to examine it. The sole had been torn loose in the front, where the toes would rest. He brushed some of the caked mud off the surface. It crumbled onto the mat. Signs of extreme stress were evident in the rest of the shoe as well. It was ruined. Lightning damage. He had indeed been very close when the bolt had struck.

Once again the question haunted him -- how had he escaped uninjured?

And if he had stumbled into the cabin, how could he have managed to neatly remove his shoes and place them on the doormat? Ordinarily, he never would have tracked mud into the house. But, surely, he would not have had the capacity to deposit his shoes at the door if he had stumbled into the house in delirium.

Yet, here they were. He must have placed them on the mat. There was no other explanation.

Kamon rose to his full height and turned to make his way to the stairs. At first, he took the steps one at a time, but as he progressed, he began to bound upward two at a time. He was checking out his body. All the physical evidence around him indicated that he should be injured in some way. Perhaps he was and he simply did not realize it.

He reached the top of the stairs. His ascent had been graceful and quick. He felt fine, alert, full of energy. Once again he shook his head in bewilderment.

He took a left at the top of the stairs and headed down the short hallway to his room. He removed his pants, then literally ripped his shirt from his body. There was little left of it. He pulled a clean shirt from a drawer and slipped it on. He did the same with a clean pair of pants. He could shower later. He wanted to check around outside first. Perhaps he would find something out there which would explain some of these mysteries.

"Damn," he suddenly muttered softly to himself.

He felt something tiny tickling his belly. He hated it when a stray hair managed to slip inside his shirt; it annoyed him. He pulled the bottom of the shirt out of his pants and rolled it upward. Narrowing, his eyes began their search for the offensive fiber.

There it was, caught between his shirt and lower chest. His thumb and forefinger grasped it and delicately pulled it away.

He stood staring quizzically at the single hair dangling in front of him. It was long, much too long to be from his own head. He pondered it in bemusement. It appeared black like his, but nothing on his head could match it in length.

He quickly strode from his room and into the bathroom. Snatching a clean, white towel from a drawer, he laid it on the counter next to the sink. Then he carefully placed the long dark hair on the towel and turned on the light so he could examine the human fiber more closely.

Dark brown, not black. That was now clear in the light and against the white background. It was definitely not his. So whose was it? And how had it come to be inside his shirt?

The memory of the dream returned. He had heard a woman's voice. It had been a pleasant one. But that was all he remembered about it. He could not recall the words, nor could he have identified the voice if he had heard it again. Still, memory told him that it had been an appealing voice. Odd but true. The mind was like that when recalling a dream, focusing on the atmosphere while losing track of the substance.

The dark brown hair lay across the towel in front of him. It defied the dream theory. It was an anomaly. It did not belong here. Where had it come from?

He had ripped the tattered shirt from his body. Therefore, this hair fiber must have been clinging to his chest, having fallen there while his body had been still wet, sometime last night. But that meant someone had been here! A woman?! Who?! And why?!

What day was it? he suddenly asked himself. He was unsure of even that. He had been unconscious, but until now he had assumed it had been only overnight.

Kamon left the bathroom and strode into his den. He looked at the digital calendar/clock on the desk. Overnight. That was all. He had been unconscious no longer than an evening. He was relieved. At least that seemed reasonable even if nothing else did.

An investigation outside was warranted, he decided, even if it was unlikely to yield any useful answers. Hurrying back to his room, he slipped on a pair of hiking boots and ran down the stairs and out the front door.

His eyes carefully surveyed the porch. Barren except for the porch swing. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He bounded down the few steps and walked across the soggy turf. It was soft and tender, having absorbed days of rain. He avoided small pools of water as he made his way to the fallen Minot tree. He walked slowly around it, inspecting the damage.

Minot trees were sturdy. He had never seen one topple over even in a violent wind storm. Yet this one lay sliced in half, unceremoniously shattered by a single bolt of lightning. He was lucky that both halves of the huge tree had fallen away from him. He might have been crushed otherwise.

Lesser branches lay scattered all around. A large portion of the trunk had been charred by the heat of the lightning. This was obviously the point where the electrical charge had first sought its ground, driving a path down the trunk to the soil in its search.

In this condition, much of the tree's value had been lost; most of the trunk had suffered badly. But there remained enough salvageable wood to make this single tree quite valuable. He would have it hauled into the city and sold. He would donate the money to a homeless shelter. He spent little on himself; his needs were simple. No one had better dare challenge him over ownership of the tree. He was not in the mood.

Kamon walked to the edge of the hill, his eyes intently examining the spot where he had been standing when the lightning had struck. It was muddy here. All evidence that he had stood on this spot last night was gone.

He remembered the sound of a foot stepping close to him after he had fallen. At least he thought he recalled it. But then, that could have been part of the dream. There was nothing here to indicate the presence of anyone but himself last night. The rain had obliterated any trace.

He set off on a meticulous search of the area around the cabin. He circled his home, weaving in and out among the Minot trees, his eyes taking in every detail, looking for anything that might be out of place. But he found nothing. He had not really expected to. If anyone but himself had been here yesterday he suspected that nature would have erased all evidence by now.

It made no sense that someone else would have been in the area. No one lived out here in the wilderness, except for himself. Added to that was the violent weather and the fact that the bridge was washed out. This place had been inaccessible for the past few days. No one would be here! No one could be here!

And if someone had been here, where had she gone? Where would she stay?

No, he decided. No one had been here. No one was here. Everything he knew about his wilderness home told him this was true. But the string of hair..........it did not fit the equation.

No less puzzled than before he had left it, Kamon reentered his cabin. He slipped out of his shoes and left them beside the other pair already on the door mat. His toe nudged one of the damaged pair as he thoughtfully eyed them.

They were ruined! It was hard to imagine that the person who had been in them could have lived, let alone walk around in perfect health the following day. Yet, here he was, alive and well.

Leaving them, Kamon again climbed the stairs. He went into the bathroom. There it was -- the long dark, brown hair -- physical evidence from last night's strange happenings which could not be explained.

The sound of a footstep, the sensation of being carried, a woman's soothing voice, the exotic but silent thoughts -- all these could be explained; he had been dreaming.

Perhaps he had experienced one of those near-death encounters that he had read about. People floating out of their physical bodies and looking down on themselves. Pleasant, comforting surroundings. No fear of approaching death.

He remembered the woman's voice -- pleasant, calming. His thoughts surprised him. It was unusual for him to think of a woman in these terms. He counted few women as friends. Resentment ran deep toward him among the female of his species. The most he could ask for was respect, and he usually did not even receive that.

A near-death experience. Yes. That made sense. Undeniably, he had flirted with death, being so close to a bolt of lightning when it hit the ground.

Kamon stood in the bathroom, his hands on the counter, his brow furrowed in consternation, his eyes staring at the single dark brown hair on the towel. It defied explanation. All the previous night's strange occurrences could be arranged into an understandable theory -- but not the single hair. It remained out of place. An aberration.

How could something so commonplace be so odd?

The satphone rang. He jumped, startled, so deep in thought had he been. He went into his study, grabbing the receiver from the satphone.

"Kamon," he answered simply but with confidence and authority.

"Where the hell have you been!?!" the voice on the other end of the line crackled.

"Good morning to you, too," Kamon remarked dryly.

"Don't give me that 'good morning' garbage! Where the hell have you been?!" the caustic voice repeated.

"Traveling home. You knew that," Kamon said simply, toying with the man at the other end of the satellite communication link.

"It doesn't take more than a day to get there! I've been calling you ever since yesterday afternoon! I was starting to worry! It's been raining for days out there! You might have drowned in a flash flood on one of those back roads or something for all I knew!"

"I almost did," Kamon baited him.

"What?! You listen here, Hawk -- cut the comedy act right now or I'll call WOMEN'S FANTASIES magazine and tell them you agreed to do a two-page spread! I'll do it! You know I will!"

"Okay, okay," Kamon replied hastily. "I don't know why you're so agitated, though. You do the same thing to me all the time."

"That's right, and that's the way I like it!"

"So, Casio, what's torn you away from the television that you're so anxious to talk to me?" Kamon asked. "The Council is in recess. That means there is no official business being conducted. That means I can go home, which I did."

"You don't know?!" Casio exclaimed incredulously. "Didn't you watch the news last night?! Or this morning?! I know you like to get in touch with nature at home, but you don't have to unplug your brain while you're there! It's not a pre-condition for living among the squirrels you know! I got forty-one women here jumping down my throat and they want you back here right now! Correction; make that forty women. The Big Chief doesn't care where you are."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Kamon asked.

"Red alert in the city, mountain man! The whole place is on tumble dry! Early yesterday afternoon, the temple police came by and took the Big Chief in for questioning."

"What?!" Kamon exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah, there's a whole lot of mouths still hanging open around here, too."

"What happened?!"

"You want rumor or fact?"

"Just a straight explanation," Kamon demanded impatiently.

"Okay, let's try the factual report of the rumors. As usual, the temple police wouldn't say anything except that they were 'investigating a charge of sacrilege'. They have no imagination; that's all they ever say! So, all afternoon there were a million rumors floating around here. The best one broke on the news last night; it was basically the same story that appeared in the CAPITOL TIMES this morning. The newspaper says they have a source who -- oh heck, I'll read it to you," Casio said, interrupting himself.

Kamon heard the rustling of a newspaper before his friend continued.

"'The CAPITOL TIMES has learned from a knowledgeable source within the Religious Department that a high ranking government official has offered unimpeachable evidence that Chief Councilwoman Mavox Pro broke observance of the Raman holy day last month'...."

"That's impossible!" Kamon interrupted skeptically. "She wouldn't risk it! What proof do they say they have?"

"My guess is somebody found a jilted gigolo," came the dry reply. "'Course, that wouldn't be too hard. All you'd have to do is pick up the phone book. The only two male names you would have to exclude would be mine and yours."

"That's all you know? You didn't call the TIMES and ask?"

"Of course I did," Casio responded indignantly. " 'We must maintain the confidentiality of our sources'," he mimicked over the satphone. "Translation: 'Go find your own rumors'. You'd think they'd have more respect for one of their most consistent sources. And the most reliable, I might add."

Could it be true? Kamon wondered to himself, mulling the possibility that the report might indeed be accurate.

On the face of it, the odds seemed low, almost nil. Raman was the most sacred of all holy days in the Fraus faith, the state religion of Marmot. During the twenty-four hour period, no one went anywhere or did anything, at least in public. It was a time to pray, meditate, or contemplate. But not to venture outdoors. Chief Councilwoman Mavox Pro knew this. And she had much to risk by defying the strictures of her religion.

She was a powerful woman. She had had her hands on the reins of government for over a decade. She knew an uncountable number of influential people and, more often than not, they did her bidding. No one dared to cross paths with this woman. She could bring an end to one's effectiveness in the capitol with a simple phone call.

Even the press corps steered a wide berth around her, carefully avoiding any story which might embarrass the Chief Councilwoman. It was one thing to pursue an enticing story. It was quite another to find oneself unemployed.

To a reporter's employer, the consequences were even more frightening -- licenses to broadcast or publish could be revoked. None had been lately, but no one doubted that Mavox Pro could make it happen.

But Kamon had no doubt that even her great influence would fail to save her now if she had indeed violated the sanctity of the Raman holy day. There were few greater sins.

"Yo! Hawk! Are you there? Have you slipped into one of your cerebral trances again?" Casio's sharp voice broke into his thoughts. "You know, you have to stop doing that or women will begin to suspect that men actually possess some semblance of intelligence."

"Sorry," Kamon answered. "I was just wondering if she might actually have done it. Precisely what do they think she did on Raman anyway?"

"Gossip or hearsay?"

"Is that all you have?" Kamon asked in exasperation.

" 'Fraid so. Anyway, I hear somebody caught her tripping across the plaza just outside the Domus grounds."

"What would she be doing near the Delphi's complex? They despise one another."

"Search me," the voice came over the satphone, "but apparently that's where she was."

"I thought you were giving me gossip," Kamon pointed out.

"I get good gossip, big guy." The voice practically radiated delight.

"Still, it doesn't sound like much. All she did was get caught outside."

"Raman, Hawk. You don't leave your domicile for any reason. You know that as well as anyone. 'Course, when you do it out in the hinterlands, there's no one around to see you. Hey, I thought you'd be happy about this. Ever since we arrived on the scene, you and the Big Chief have been going at it like two Benali alley cats in a burlap bag."

"Well, maybe I'm pleased," Kamon said, "I guess. The whole thing just seems very strange, that's all. The Chief Councilwoman being caught outside on Raman near the residence of our religious leader -- a place that she normally avoids if she possibly can? It just doesn't make any sense at all."

"Oh, yeah? Well, wait 'till you hear the next part."

"There's more?" Kamon asked, incredulous.

"Yup. Most folks around here think you turned her in."

"That's outrageous!" Kamon shot back.

"Motive and opportunity," Casio quipped. "You had both. Then you cleared out of town just before the story broke."

"I always hurry home during a recess!" Kamon's deep voice boomed.

"I know it, but people forget stuff like that when they have already reached a pre-conceived notion. In any event, the other Councilwomen want you back here immediately. IMMEDIATELY," Casio repeated. "Did I mention that part? The Delphi has called for an immediate investigation into the matter by the Council. She wants the Council to decide the Big Chief's fate; thinks there'll be more credibility with the people if the Council does it. As if this inert mass could actually reach a conclusion on anything. If you ask me, she should have kept her nose out of it and let the religious court handle it. But that's the Delphi; thinks she has to have a hand in anything that's BIG! Anyway, there's only one Council member absent right now and that's you. So, the Councilwomen want you back, post-haste."

"What else has the co-equal branch of our government had to say about all this?" Kamon inquired.

"Except for issuing the order giving us exclusive jurisdiction in investigating this scandal, the great and Almighty Delphi has been pretty tight-lipped, but I'll bet she's madder'n a Wereman badger forced down a shallow hole. A-Priority-One Sacrilege by the Chief Councilwoman isn't exactly on her Raman wish list, no matter how much she might despise the woman on a personal level!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Maybe tomorrow," Kamon said, his thoughts returning to the devastation of the hill leading up to his cabin.

Kamon heard the man on the other end obviously drumming his fingers on the speaker. "Heelloo! Heelloo! We must have a bad connection here, Hawk. I thought you said something about returning TOMORROW! I repeat, THE COUNCILWOMEN WANT YOU BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY! I swear they will send the temple police out looking for you if I use the word 'tomorrow' in their presence!"

"I don't care what you tell them," Kamon snapped. "I'm not coming back today. Someone cut the Minot trees on the hill in front of my cabin. I intend to find out who did it and put a stop to any logging plans they might have out here." The big man's voice was cold and firm as he finished.

"You're serious?" Casio asked.

"Damn serious."

"When did that happen?" Casio's voice had grown suddenly somber. He knew how much the trees and the land meant to his big friend.

"I don't know," Kamon replied wearily. "Obviously, recently."

"Who did it?"

"Xenon!" he exclaimed, quickly indicting the local lumber company. "Heck, I don't know, but who else could have done it?! And why would they risk breaking the law like that?! They had no authority to cut these trees! They're a precious state resource, no matter if I own them or the state does! They're protected!"

"They got the authority," the quiet voice sounded over the satphone.

"How?!" Kamon shot back in bewilderment "From whom?"

"I don't really know, but that's what the 'Minot preservation bill' was all about. It was meant for someone to make money, not preserve trees."

"But there wasn't anything like this in the bill!"

"No," Casio agreed, "there wasn't. But someone needed that bill in order to take the next step. Well, now she has."

"It will be her last step," Kamon responded grimly.

"I have every confidence in the world that you will see to that, Hawk, but I can't help but notice that you seem to be a little low-key about all this, relatively speaking anyway. For one thing, I haven't heard your fist go through the wall during this conversation. What's up?"

No one knew the big man better than Casio. If Kamon's reaction to any event was even slightly out of the ordinary, Casio was sure to notice.

"Casio, I'm not entirely sure," he replied, the puzzled frown he had worn nearly all morning settling on his face again. "I may have had one of those near-death experiences."

"What!?!" Casio exclaimed in alarm. "Are you saying you almost died?!"

"No. I--I don't think so," Kamon stammered. His answer conveyed the bewilderment he still felt about the previous night's events.

"Hawk, are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Kamon answered hurriedly. "I've never felt better. It's just that last night was a little strange."

"Hawk, it's more than a little strange to have a near-death experience. What happened?"

"I think I was struck by lightning."

"You don't 'think' you're struck by lightning!" Casio pointed out. "You either are or you aren't. That is not something which is subject to doubt. If you feel fine right now, then you most definitely were not struck by lightning, not even close."

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Kamon responded.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment before Casio spoke. "Stop it! This is not funny!"

"I'm not trying to make a joke. I'm just a little confused about last night."

"Hawk, would you mind seeing a doctor before you come back to Positron?"

"I don't need a doctor," Kamon replied.

"Well, speaking as someone who has known you as long as anyone on this planet, you are sounding a bit weird."

"I understand that," Kamon conceded. "It seems weird. I'll explain later," he sighed. "So, are you going to cover for me with the Councilwomen?"

"Sure," Casio sighed. "Why not? I'll just tell them you got struck by lightning and you're so confused you can't even remember it," he said dryly. "One thing, Hawk -- about this near-death thing -- you didn't float out of your body and look down on yourself and think how pleasant death was, did you?"

"No," Kamon answered thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't like that at all. Everything was totally black. All I remember are voices, and only vaguely. Actually, I only heard one voice. The other.....I just felt. I know it sounds strange. It was a woman's voice that I heard -- and it was pleasant. Very pleasant."

"You had a dream," the voice on the phone stated flatly. "They're quite common. Most folks have them without feeling the need to equate them with near-death experiences, however. Good thing, too, or else the majority of our population would be headed for the cliffs to test out their wacky theory of death. Dead is dead, big guy, and therefore to be avoided. It is not something to be brought on prematurely. That part about the woman's voice is interesting, though. Pleasant, you said? Perhaps your deep-rooted yearnings for female companionship are finally coming to the fore. What do you think?"

"I think you'd make a damn poor psychiatrist," Kamon replied dryly.

"Yeah, well how would you know?! You're the first person I know who ever felt a voice! A confession like that could keep a convention of shrinks busy for a week!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Kamon said. "And I promise I'll tell you the whole story when I get back, but I don't think you're going to believe it."

"I already don't believe it!" Casio exclaimed. "But have no fear. I'll cover for you. I'll tell everyone around here that you can't possibly make it back until tomorrow, but you make sure it is tomorrow! What are you going to do anyway -- pay a visit to the manager of Xenon?"

"Absolutely!"

"Well, that's okay by me," Casio commented. "Say, Hawk?"

"Yes?"

"What would you think of driving your rover over a cliff on the way to see her?"

"I think that would be an incredibly stupid idea," Kamon responded solemnly.

"Good for you. Just checking."

"Good-bye to you, too," Kamon said with a smile. He hung up the satphone.

END OF CHAPTER