The International Year of the Beast
Chapter One



Movement. Just slight and elusive, but there. Just there. Craning his neck to see, Devin Wells peered with eyes shielded from the brilliance of the sun with one frozen hand to where something had moved and hope seared his heart as he saw it again. “Help me!” He croaked pitifully, “Help me!”

The thing, whatever it was hesitated but made no attempt to come closer and from his vantage point all Devin could tell was that it was human, possibly a man, heavily built and tall. “Please!” Devin mustered a high-pitched appeal, “I’m injured.”

He thought that would bring whomsoever it was to his aid, but Devin was wrong as with a sinking feeling he watched the figure move away from his line of vision and merge into the trees out of sight. ‘Why won’t he help me?’ Devin wondered and tried to struggle from his twisted position in order to see more. But it was useless. One of his skis had jammed itself into the cartilage beneath his left knee and he knew that his right arm was broken. And how long he had lain there already was anyone’s guess, for a certainty it had been night when he had tumbled and crashed into the trunk of a massive fir tree and it was now well after noon knowing by the sun’s journey through the sky. In fact it had been the warmth of the sun that had roused him, beneath him icy cold above him warm and cosy, yet Devin well knew his predicament. He would die if he didn’t get help soon, he could not survive another night out on the snow.

Thinking was difficult, for apart from the sunrays he was so damned cold and his reflexes were too slow to be of comfort to him. If a wolf should amble by…

Devin shuddered, there might be a pack of them and they’d eat him alive for sure. Gritting his teeth, Devin shuffled against the bank of snow at his side, easing himself through the searing pain into a near as sitting position as possible, thus dislodging the ski and eliminating at least one ache. Through gloved hands he rubbed at the joint and thanked God that the ski had done no impressionable damage.

Taking off his gloves was not an option, but a necessity nonetheless and with his teeth, he removed just enough of the padded fibre to free his thumb and index finger the digits he needed to prise open his ski jacket and from the breast pocket pull free his cell phone. He might be lucky, there was a slim possibility that he had given it enough charge the morning before to send an SOS now. Switching the device on took an age, his fingers shook and his teeth chattered and just the action of placing the receptacle to his ear seemed to take forever. Finally though it was in place and with deft fingers he dialled the emergency services praying all the while that he would make the connection, almost fainting with relief to hear it ring. “Hello” he grunted when it was answered, “I’m in trouble. Need help.”

“What are your statistics?” asked a firm male voice at the other end

“From you, I’m on the west side slope of Denali. I’ve got a broken arm…hello? You there?” Devin’s heart sank faster than an elephant dropping over Niagara Falls as he heard the distinctive click that signalled the end of his battery. “No!” He cried and bashed his cell phone into the palm of his other gloved hand. Even that hurt, his palm hurt, his arm hurt and the action jarred every bone in his frozen body, but nothing hurt more than the loss of his lifeline and his only link to a part of the world that might be able to get help to him in time.

If only…Devin gazed to where the figure had loomed so recently, who had that been? Why had they not helped him? Were they lost too? That didn’t make sense if they were lost surely they would have been as pleased to see him as he was to see them? Maybe they were fugitives. Or maybe they were criminals, wanted by the police, here by necessity rather than choice. Maybe they were thieves or murderers, one hears of such things…Devin shuddered and in all his life he’d never felt so alone or so vulnerable. And suddenly with tears coursing down his frozen cheeks he cried for his father…”Dad? Dad? Help me…please help me!”

*** *** ***

“A postcard from Devin.” Walking down the three stone steps into the cosy candlelit chamber, Mary smiled as she handed the picture card to Father, “Kipper just brought it down,” she told him, “I took the liberty of reading it, he’s having a wonderful time.”

Father patted the seat alongside his own, “Come join me for some tea, Mary. Would you like a cookie?” He fumbled for his spectacles as he spoke, and when he had secured them securely upon his nose he took the picture postcard from her hand. “Alaska?” He murmured surprised, “How that boy gets around.” Mary detected the chuckle in his tone, and a certain thread of wistfulness that she knew to be a yearning for the sights his son Devin had seen and for the places that he, Jacob, never would. Not only that, but sights that his other son, Vincent would never see either entrapped as he was by his own appearance.

“I know what you are thinking, Jacob.” Mary leaned over to grasp and squeeze Father’s arm, “But Vincent never envies Devin’s travels, he is only too happy to learn of them when his brother visits us. And I’m sure as usual Devin will be gushing with news of his latest trip. He’s gone skiing hasn’t he?”

Father nodded, “Alone, too just like the foolhardy son he is. I quit worrying about him a long time ago though, he appears to be made of rubber, bounces back from whatever life throws at him. It’s a pity Vincent isn’t the same.” He added ruefully.

“At least Catherine doesn’t take him on those wild expeditions anymore. Long gone are the days when she needed his assistance and he risked his neck to save her time after time. Now that she resides here with us, those days seem to be a thing of the past thank God.” Mary assured him.

Relieved to be reminded, Father again nodded, “Mary my dear, thank you.”

“For what?” She smiled indulgently.

“Just for reminding me I have no need to worry about Vincent’s welfare anymore. He is, I know, safe in Catherine’s hands. Dear Catherine, and to think I spent too long trying to thwart that particular relationship. Goodness me just imagine if I had of succeeded in that particular pursuit!”

“You didn’t, so quit fretting. Now may I take this postcard and show it to Vincent?”

Father smiled, “Yes of course, no doubt he will add it to his collection. The one entitled South of Oz and North of Shangrila. The scrapbook that depicts all of Devin’s travels since he left us at the tender age of fourteen.” With that Father sighed despairingly and Mary again squeezed his arm, knowing his thoughts, “It was a long time ago Jacob, and Devin has forgiven you. Don’t fret so. Leaving the tunnels at such a young age did Devin no harm, in fact I believe it was the making of him. Such a gentle man he has become. Always looking out for others and he so loves his brother! He would do anything for Vincent. I do believe Devin gains more from everything he encounters than what is normal simply because he wants to memorise every little detail for the sake of his brother.”

“Yes, you could be right Mary, in fact I’m sure you are. Yes take this postcard to Vincent and ask him if he would like to share the evening with me, perhaps we can discuss Devin’s whereabouts, follow his trail so to speak with the aid of the atlas.”

Rising from her chair, Mary patted his shoulder, “I’m sure he will look forward to that. I’ll see you at supper Jacob.”

Father nodded, and watched her leave watching over the rim of his glasses, thanking God with every step that she took, for the kind soul that she was. That was another thing, how could he have overlooked how special she was for so long? It hadn’t been until Vincent and Catherine’s marriage that he had realised, thanks to a deliberate hint from Catherine, how much Mary had meant to his life and shortly after that momentous event he had asked for and received Mary’s hand in marriage. An occasion he had never lived to regret, the regret being only that he had not asked her sooner. Mary was one in a million, and he loved her with all his heart.

Leaning back in his chair, Father sighed life was good, perhaps too good. Everyone was happy. And it always worried him when everyone was blissfully happy. He took it as a sign that something dreadful was in the air and about to strike them down and stop them from knowing such contentment. He hoped not, but an ominous feeling washed over him even as he tried desperately to ignore it. Whatever it was, whatever ‘thing’ had just walked over his grave was very real and very threatening and Father just hoped it was tiredness acting on his imagination…he hoped but did not entirely believe that’s all it was…Vincent might be empathic but sometimes, he too knew when something was amiss…

Like now…and during the minutes that followed the feeling persisted and it just would not go away. Somewhere, somehow, someone close to him was in trouble…and the most infuriating thing was - in his situation, even though he were a doctor, he couldn’t do a blessed thing to help them.

*** *** ***

He might be dreaming…or…he might be dead. All he was aware of was this nothingness, yet in itself it was a peaceful nothingness, warm and cosy, snug as a bug in a rug kind of cosiness and his eyelids felt as heavy as they would in a dream. Devin stirred slightly, just enough to make him aware that he could, and that for the first time in a limitless number of days he could actually feel his eyelashes brush against his cheek and if he were to lift them and peer through their crustiness he could see, or thought he could see a bright kind of light, not unlike that of the sunlight piercing the snow, yet brighter redder, hotter maybe and all around it was darkness. Struggling into consciousness Devin wondered about this, his mind beginning to pick up a pace, little images of remembrance dancing behind his eyes. Hands on him, voices he could not decipher, a language like no other filtering this way and that as if…as if there had been people…several people standing over and above him speaking about him. And then a motion, a sweeping, lifting motion taking him from the cold, the icy, icy cold that had penetrated every single limb in his body and placing him someplace warm and soft, so soft he felt he might sleep there forever safe and sound in the eternal womb.

His eyelids fluttered and crusty as they were he sought his own hand, starting with his fingers, noticing first the tingling at their tips and lifting the lead like limb up and up from beneath wherever it had been laid, until he could touch his eyes and rub away the grit that had formed from the long days and nights spent exposed to all weathers, the last day of which he had slipped into unconsciousness never expecting to awaken, his last lucid thought of his father and his brother and long candlelit tunnels.

Perhaps that’s where he was now, he dimly thought. Perhaps he had been rescued from his frozen grave and returned to his family although that thought was quickly followed by another one swift and sure and the realisation of the impossibility of anyone knowing of his family let alone where to find them. If he were in the tunnels, his tunnels, then he was dreaming, there was nothing more to it than that. And if he were dreaming, then he could be nowhere and everywhere, all of this might be an illusion, moments before death, standing at the gateway to heaven itself. That would at least explain the feeling of peacefulness, but would not explain why, upon peeking through one eye, all he could see was darkness apart from that shaft of brilliant light to one side, a light that resembled…Devin stared at the radiant light and gave it a name…fire. It was fire! Then if this was not heaven it could only be one other…hell itself!

Should he not be surprised? Had he not left his brother to roam the world deciding that tales of his travels would suffice to tell his sibling on his infrequent return to the tunnels?

Had he not broken a thousand promises? Had he not had a million appalling thoughts toward his father in the beginning? Did he not deserve to be in hell?

Still…it would have been nice…Devin groaned, what was he saying, it would have been nice to have related this particular trip to Vincent? This trip away, one of many? What was he a walking travel journal? Was he justifying his trips away with tales of his adventures to a brother whose only jaunt was to the park and his only beautifying experience was seeing the moon? Devin squeezed his eyes closed, looking behind his eyeballs into his mind beyond. If he were truthful, he had done nothing for Vincent. Oh his brother might benefit from the tales he had to relate, but the real reason for his restless feet had been purely selfish…he and he alone had wanted to see the world and partake of all the delights it had to offer.

So now he was paying for his selfishness…with eternal torment…endless fire and Devin was surprised that at such a time he was able to make light of it as he told himself, ‘well at least I won’t be cold anymore.’

*** *** ***

Like warm soft water, whispers caressed him, passing over where he lay from voices undistinguishable to both his tired mind and his intellect. Rising up from unconsciousness where sleep had claimed him hours before, Devin lay with eyes closed trying to understand what was being said, but he admitted defeat to a language like no other. He’d been around, he knew a few different tongues, but never had he ever heard anything like this before. Cracking open an eye afforded him more of a language unheard of. These people not only spoke differently they used mannerisms to express what they were saying too.

He watched them, dissatisfied that from ground level their faces were obscured by the firelight that only served to twist and distort their features and blended the colours of dragon fire with the swirling smoke that came from somewhere to the right of him. Devin felt its warmth, knew it to be a campfire and revelled in the luxuriating glow that seemed to go right through to his bones. Bones that had so recently been frozen from the nights and days spent lying in the snow. A sudden thought seized him. What of his arm? He had known such pain from the broken limb but now there was nothing and he struggled to know whether that arm still existed or had they…whomever they were…cut it off? Relieved to feel his fingertips graze something hard at his side, Devin sighed to find that his arm was still in existence and now covered with splints, placed in a healing position and devoid of pain.

His sudden movement however had sent the people away from his side almost as if they were afraid to be seen by him, but that was ridiculous, they had obviously saved his life and he could not understand their lingo anyway. Yet no sooner had he thought it then did one amble back to his side and bending touched his shoulder rocking him to full consciousness, so that Devin had no alternative but to fully open his eyes.

“Hi.” He croaked and instantly a mug of deliciously cool water was placed to his parched lips. He drank thirstily, feeling the water slide down his throat and into an empty belly that rumbled in protest. His companion laughed, strange thought Devin how laughter sounded the same in any language and it was infectious, for Devin was smiling when the mug was taken from his lips.

“Thank You, I feel so much better for that.”

The figure stood and loomed above him and Devin heard rather than saw the click of the man’s fingers as he signalled something to someone standing a few feet away. Moments later he smelt the tantalising aroma of cooked meat, sizzling hot from the fire and then a strong arm around his shoulders easing him into a sitting position. “Thank you.” Devin mumbled and accepted the offered plate of meat. He bit into it with relish and uttered satisfied grunts as the fat dribbled down his chin and the succulent meat melted under the gnashing of his teeth. “Mm” was all Devin could manage, as he satisfied his craving for food, until a belch worked it way up with the water and he managed a guttural, “this is delicious!”

More laughter followed and Devin looked up gazing over the meat he held in one hand to look at the people around him. They were indeed different, extremely large and well built unless it was all padding to keep out the cold. In fact… Devin gazed to his left and to his right and noted that he was still out on the snow, yet here with them, the campfire and the food, he felt almost at home.

Home.

With that one word he stopped chewing as the thought of the tunnels and his family sent a sudden sweep of homesickness flowing over him. He never thought in all his life he would miss them as much as he missed them at that moment, and these people…their physique their mannerisms…they reminded him of his brother…yet how could that be? No one in all his life no matter where he had been and whom he had encountered had ever reminded him of Vincent. Devin laughed then. What were mannerisms and physique to do with it? No one anywhere could ever look like his brother and that was the end of the matter.

Yet…Devin paused again, chewing a piece of meat slowly, who were these people? A language he could not decipher not even to say ‘oh yes that’s French or German, I don’t know what they’re saying but I know by the dialect that’s what it is.’ He couldn’t say that, because this language was like none he had ever heard before, save from the animals. He gasped, animals? Yes, if he listened that’s what it was, they spoke fluently with hoots and howls, chatters and whines he even detected the odd sound of birds among their voice and those mannerisms! Watching them was like watching a play, and Devin was fascinated!

Yet for all of that they seemed to understand him? True he hadn’t said much, but they had known he was thirsty, had known he was starving and had accepted his word of thanks without asking what he was saying, so surely they understood him, unless to them his language sounded animal like also? And something in his manner must have alerted them now, maybe it was the way he was staring at them, maybe it was because he hesitated in his eating to watch them talk among themselves, but all of a sudden they stilled and turned as one to look at him, and in the light from the fire Devin gasped and the meat fell from his hands, as he looked into the faces of not one, but half a dozen or more replica’s of his brother Vincent and at that point Devin knew that he had to be hallucinating!

That was it then…in the desert one saw a mirage, on the snow at the point of death one saw an image that tricked one into believing one had been rescued - were warm when they were in actuality frozen – were fed when they were starving – were given water when they were parched – that’s what it had to be – yes that’s what it had to be!

“Do not be afraid.” The voice softly spoken was one Devin did understand. And despite the questions vying for supremacy from his head to the tip of his tongue he remained silent watching the mouth move, that top upper lip split at its centre to form a cleft, a mouth that told him not to worry just as his brother Vincent had told a hundred faces when they had first clapped eyes on him.

“We will not hurt you.” The voice whispered again. Devin nodded he knew that. A scar he might bear from a run in with his brother, but through and through Vincent was gentle, tender in all his ways, and Devin was not afraid of these people, these people that resembled his brother through and through.

“I know.” Devin muttered, “I know I can trust you.” The one speaking turned to the others and beckoned them round and Devin watched as they came one by one and cautiously so as not to frighten him bent down to sit on haunches all around where he half lay half sat looking at them each in turn slowly, one by one.

“You do seem unafraid. Have we ever met before?” The first one asked of him in bewilderment.

“Not you, another. I have met another.” In confusion the speaker translated to the others and Devin saw the disbelief in all their eyes.

“That cannot be. We would have known had you met one of us before. It would have been logged, recorded and you would have received…” he hesitated and then leaning down to Devin he drew aside the blanket covering him took up Devin’s good arm and pulling back his sleeve revealed a tattoo Devin had not known was there. “This.” The speaker told him, “We would have seen this.”

“What the hell!” Devin scrambled to a full sitting position, “Where did this come from!” He cried looking from each member of the Vincent people and back to their speaker.

“I’m sorry but it is by necessity that this is done. Everyone that has ever encountered us are marked this way, so that we know and can identify those we know of as helpers around the world wherever they go.”

“Helpers? That’s interesting.” Devin remarked.

With his head to one side, birdlike the speaker among them enquired in silence for Devin to elaborate.

“Where I come from, people that are not within the community I know of as family are known as helpers.” For some reason Devin refrained from telling them about his brother. It would have been so easy to have done but something held him back. Besides it was all still a little unreal and having kept his brother’s identity a secret all his life he wasn’t about to blurt out his existence even to people that looked the spitting image of him.

“I see. So you will understand will you not that helpers need to be distinguishable from the norm, and since we are a multi national race we need…” He stopped in mid sentence as Devin blurted, “A multi national race? Do you mean there are more of you? But how is this possible? I’ve never seen any people like you before.”

“I thought you said you had?”

“Well…” Devin was unsure of what to say, “Just forget I mentioned that for the moment, okay. You just tell me about this race of people. Are you all like that?” He nodded toward the speaker’s face thus making his indication clear.

“Yes. And as to your earlier question, how is it possible?” Devin nodded. “We keep ourselves very private. Some have seen us, or have thought they’ve seen us, but they have never seen our faces. All of our helpers have been people like you who have been injured and near death and with no likelihood of rescue we have taken them in. And we have trusted them in keeping our secret and we have marked them for identification to others of our clan around the world, by that simple snake like tattoo upon your wrist. You see nothing even in the tattoo reveals us to human kind as you know it. We are neither snakelike in appearance nor are we snakelike in our personality. You will find us to be a gentle and trusting people and we do hope that you will keep the secret of our existence to yourself?” It was a question rather than a statement and Devin nodded enthusiastically, “I will, you can trust me, I will tell not a soul.”

“Thank you. And now perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am Singing Jay, you may call me Jay, everyone does, and you I know are Devin Wells.” When Devin gasped, Jay bent down to touch Devin’s pack and more precisely the pocket where he kept his passport, ID and driver’s license so that he understood that not only had they taken the liberty of marking him as a helper but they had also gone through his belongings to seek his identity.

“This is Merry Wolf, my brother and this is…” He went on with the introductions, and Devin tried to keep pace, but it was simply difficult. To have the faces swim before him one by one, bright shining eyes, was almost too much for Devin to take in. From knowing one face like this in all his life to this many at once and to know that there were hundreds, possibly thousands more was incredible! And at the back of all those thoughts was the one thread, the only one possible in the circumstances…’this is where Vincent came from…this is where my brother belongs…not in tunnels in a hole in the ground…but free…to roam the mountains to feel the sunshine on his shoulders and the wind in his hair.’ And one other question was utmost in his mind, ‘if Vincent belonged to these people, if he was indeed one of them’ and Devin was sure that he was, ‘then how had he become detached from them?’ Yet as burning as that question was, Devin could still not bring himself to tell them about Vincent, as something, some uncanny sixth sense, told him to withhold that kind of information until he really knew who these people were and why in the thousands of years of humanity only a handful of people like himself had ever been privileged to see them.

*** *** ***

“What is it Vincent? You see distracted, is everything alright between you and Catherine?” Father asked as Vincent failed to move his knight into a position whereby Father would have found his own move decidedly tricky. “I can’t believe you missed that move.” He added with a reassuring smile hoping to encourage his son to tell him whatever was on his mind.

“Catherine and I are fine, Father.” Vincent sighed raggedly.

“Yet I find that hard to accept, something is wrong surely?” Father prompted kindly.

“Not with Catherine and I. It’s something else. Something and nothing, but bothers me relentlessly.”

“Talking will help.” Father suggested with a twinkle in his eye.

“I tried that with Catherine, it didn’t work.” Father tried not to be miffed at that response. It was hard to learn to let go to someone else. Vincent didn’t confine in him as much as he used to do, preferring to use Catherine as a sounding board instead. Father understood why, the closeness between husband and wife was right, as the Bible counselled a man will leave his mother and father and will stick to his wife to become one flesh, but all the same Father missed the talks he and his son once shared, and the counsel Vincent would seek from an older and wiser person.

“Maybe I could be of help?” Father suggested hopefully, he wanted to add many things to that but none of them placed Catherine in her rightful position, all of them would devaluate her and he did not intend to do that.

Fortunately no more words were needed as Vincent leaned back in his over large chair and nodded, “Maybe you are right.” He paused and then just as Father had expected he rose and began pacing the length of the threadbare carpeting between the desk and Father’s sleeping quarters. Back and forth back and forth collecting his thoughts together, finding the words he needed to explain so that Father would not jump to wrong conclusions by an incorrectly used phrase. Vincent was always careful in this way, conscious of his parent’s age and what shocks might do to his system. Yet this that he needed now to get off his chest posed no such shocks, or none that Vincent could make sense of.

“Father, you well know that my empathic connection with Catherine is extended to other people that I am close to?” Father nodded and Vincent continued, ”Well before Catherine entered my life I had strong connections with other people from our community…you…Devin…Mary…Narcissa.” Vincent looked Father full in the eye when he told him that he had been connected to his parent at some stage in the past. “Me?” Replied Father quite stunned, “I did not know this.” Vincent grinned, “It was not something I wanted you to be aware of, but it helped on many occasions to hide from your wrath.” Both men chuckled and Father went on, “Generally I would say when you and Devin were involved in some hideous adventure?”
Vincent grinned but did not agree, instead going on with his own narrative, “Well at such times I could ‘see’ in my mind’s eye what was happening to those that I cared deeply for, or feel what they were feeling.” Again both men grinned as each imagined Father on the warpath seeking his two rebellious sons.
“Those feelings Father, have decreased since Catherine has been in my life. I feel them still on some level but they are not as strong, or they weren’t until two days ago, and now I am feeling them so strongly again, and seeing through Devin’s eyes.”

“Devin? You say you are close to Devin? Is he in trouble?” Vincent shook his head, “No Father, there you go jumping to the old conclusion again.” He chuckled, “No rest assured Devin is not in any trouble, but something strange is happening around him. When I see Devin Father, when I look through his eyes, I see myself.” Vincent half chuckled at the impossibility of such a thing.

“You see yourself?” Father was losing track, or Vincent was losing his mind, a very serious and dangerous fact if it were true. Breathlessly Father prompted, “Can you tell me anymore than that?”

“Yes Father, its so strange, because when I ‘see’ what Devin sees, he and I are outside in the snow, and not just that, we are standing in a valley between mountains. The sky is white laden heavily with snow clouds and we don’t appear to be doing anything about that. We are staying put with no worries of seeking shelter, almost as if we already have somewhere to do so. It is so strange Father, how can I be there and here at the same time, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“It might.” Answered Father, “If what you are seeing is not literally now, but a vision for the future.” Though Father shuddered at such a thought. Vincent in the mountains, on the snow! It was unthinkable and frightened him half to death. Yet it was the only possible explanation, his wild son Devin had thought up another foolhardy plan to rope his brother into, one that Father would never have expected. That Devin would take Vincent from the safety of the tunnels and out into the big wide world where though they might appear in isolation was still a treacherous world to one such as Vincent.

“No” Vincent told him, its not something for the future, its happening now, this minute, I feel that so strongly, and I can see what Devin is seeing and I can feel the amazement in his heart he is just as astonished to find me there Father, as I am to see myself there.”

Father laughed, “But its impossible, preposterous, you are here Vincent, with me now, not with your brother on some snow capped mountain. Surely you can see the sense in that?”

“Of course! Then what does it mean? That I can split myself? Can that other, the dark side of me appear before someone else? If so who is here now with you and Catherine? And who is with Devin? Which of my loved ones are in danger from that other?” Vincent’s voice rose hysterically and Father rose from his chair to cross to his son’s side and hug him fiercely. “Stop that, stop that you hear! You’ll make yourself ill. Vincent understand please that this out of body experience never occurs when you are conscious, you need to be in some form of trance or anaesthetised you can’t be in two places at once, its impossible!”

“Then how else would you explain it…other than assume it is something future. For I tell you Father, its happening and its happening now! This minute, Devin is with me. I can see me Father I can see myself in his eyes!”

Father shook his head, “I have no answers, Vincent. Yet they must be out there somewhere. The only thing we can do is wait until Devin returns to ask him, and until then you must try to push those images to the back of your mind, or you will get no peace until Devin comes back to us to explain.”

“That’s what Catherine said.” Father felt a little thrill of comradeship at that and saw his daughter in law on a fresh level. So they were allies were they, she and he? When it came to Vincent, both of them knew the better way to make him see sense.

“Yet this is so real, just as it was real when Devin left us at the age of fourteen and you assumed he had fallen into the abyss. I knew then as I know now that Devin was alive and well and living life to the full. He is no more seeing things than I was then or I am now, Father I know what Devin is seeing, and I tell you he is seeing me!”

Father sighed raggedly, as reminders of that dreadful time resurfaced and left him pained at heart and Vincent still tuned into his parent’s feelings regretted what he had just said. “I’m so sorry Father, that must have been an awful time for you. None of us knew what we know now, that Devin was/is your fleshly son yet you had deemed him dead into the abyss, lost forever. How deep your pain must have been to have to face such a thing. I’m so sorry Father for reminding you of that.” Vincent hugged his parent tightly as if doing so could erase the memory of that tragic time, and infuse all his love into the older man.

“Yes,” Father admitted, his words torn from him, and seeming to come from long ago, “It was hard. I sent him away you see, believing he had hurt you, and I paid for that Vincent with years of believing I had driven him to take his own life. I can tell you Vincent that belief turned me into a haggard old man, put years on my life and I do believe brought on the arthritis faster than it might have occurred. I paid for my actions Vincent, over and over again, but I felt the punishment was justified, I deserved everything for what I had done to my son. I favoured you over him every time, I thought I was protecting you, and I never saw that in so doing I pushed Devin out of my life, and out of my love. What an unhappy childhood Devin had because of me, why he ever had the heart to return I do not know.” Father shook his head and with a wry smile added, “Yes I do. Of course I do, his love for you was as strong as my love for you, he could no more prevent himself from cutting you out of his life than I could. So it was all for you Vincent, because of you, I lost my son and found him again, but…” Father paused and rubbed his hands up and down Vincent long arms, “I love you both dearly, you the adopted and he flesh of my flesh, I love you both the same, and I always did, you know, I always loved you both equally, only I never let Devin know that and I should have Vincent, I really should have.”

Vincent chuckled, “Its at times like these that Devin usually walks in through that entrance and says he overheard everything.” Vincent paused looking toward the entranceway, as if he expected his brother to do just that. Father did too, with hope in his eyes, a hope that soon evaporated as he realised, ‘not this time Vincent, not this time.’

“Don’t worry Father, you have made amends with Devin now, and he forgave you, and he loves you very much. You cannot erase what is done, and true we all know that Devin’s memories of being here are not ones he likes to remember, but he understands, and he accepts that you are sorry and does not hold the past against you. In many respects he believes he learned from it, from your mistake Father, he plans to be a more understanding parent himself when that day arrives. Know that your grandchildren will have in Devin a fine and caring father who will lavish love and attention on them.”

“If you are trying to make me feel better Vincent, you should quit, because it’s not working. All I am seeing is the comparison and what I was not to Devin when he needed me the most. Thank you for trying, but please say no more on that particular subject you are digging for yourself a very big hole.”

Vincent was happy to see Father smiling, he meant no malevolence toward him, just trying to help his son see, that no matter how he glossed what had happened, Father would always blame himself for pushing Devin out when he should have been there for him and had not been so quick to judge and usually incorrectly when it came to things that had happened wherever Devin had been involved.

“What’s past is past.” Father sighed heavily, “Let’s leave it there.”

Vincent nodded, but had to say, “Even so, the comparison was, that just as back then when I knew Devin to be alive and well I know now that what is happening with him even as we discuss this. Devin is with me, yet I am here, and how can that be? And don’t start thinking that Devin must be a ghost and that is your answer, for its not so. For just as I knew Devin had not fallen into the abyss back then, I know for a certainty that he is not dead now. There has to be a logical explanation to this Father, but I am just not encountering it and it’s sending me crazy!”

“Then there is only one explanation.” Father began, though it seemed preposterous to even think it, “That if you are not with Devin, and its obvious that you are not, and you are seeing yourself with him, then it is not you that is there beside him, Vincent, it is someone that looks like you, which would answer the question why is Devin feeling so amazed?”

Vincent laughed out loud, “That is preposterous Father, someone like me? Why you are crazier than I am!”

Even so Father did not share in Vincent’s laughter, he stood his ground and looked at his son, “Maybe so, but in the circumstances, it is the only answer I can offer. We’ve always imaged you to be the only one there is, but what if we were wrong, what if on his many and varied travels, Devin has encountered someone like you? It is possible Vincent, as impossible as it might seem, it could happen and I think that you should look more carefully into what you are seeing. Is it really yourself that is with Devin or is it someone that looks like you?”

Vincent shook his head laughing stiltedly, “You’ve been reading too many books, Father.” It was an age-old answer to many a crazy suggestion but even so an air of possibility hung ominously between them. Could it happen? Could it?
As if to clear it from cobwebs, Vincent shook his head, ‘no’ he told himself, ‘there has to be some other explanation’. Even so, as Father poured tea and left his son in silence to ponder such things occurring, Vincent wasn’t at all sure of anything anymore.

To be continued in Chapter Two