Inhuman

My baby and I would have gone to another place. Another dimension maybe, existing only to love one another.

In the Hopi beliefs, souls ascended into a perfect spirit world, death was only a transition to a higher realm. Later, if the spirit so chooses, they can return to earth, beginning once again, as a baby.

There was no shame in suicide, especially if one was sacrificing themselves for the greater good. My baby was worth that, she was the greater good.

But no, I had to try and live on. What on earth was I thinking? Even if I got away, what kind of life could we expect to live? I couldn’t even go home to the reservation in Sedona. We’d constantly be on the run. Never allowed to stop and enjoy life, we’d be forced to conceal our true identities and hide for the rest of our natural lives.

I should have ended it all when I had the chance.

Bitterness fought its way to the surface of my soul. I hated this. All of this. I hated myself for things I couldn’t control and didn’t understand. I hated my mother and father, whoever the hell they were, for creating me and then leaving me to dwell in a world that was obviously not my own.

Interrupting my dark thoughts, I was suddenly alarmed as the door handle began to turn. So preoccupied with my internal loathing, I neglected to hear the tapping of the shoes come to halt…right in front of the closet door.

A low metallic grind pierced the quiet of the tiny room as the doorknob twisted ominously. Our entire fate, all three of us hiding in the closet, now depended on whoever was on the other side of that door.

 I didn’t dare even take a breath. I didn’t even want to look. Closing my eyes tight, I let my mind drift like I had been taught by the medicine woman when I was a child.

Meditation.

She always spoke of the magic and the mysticism of meditation. She said it was the soul’s way to dream. At night, humans dreamt with their minds, but the soul could dream at any time. When a soul dreamt, however, it could make things happen. It could manifest a wish or a prayer.

“Connected to the spirits of our ancestor’s,” she would say, “meditation brings magic to life from within you.”

With the door to the closet now opening, I sincerely hoped with everything I had that she was right.

“Cassia?” A deep voice whispered into the shadows.

“Oh god! Keanu!” I tried to keep my voice down as I scrambled from the corner. Managing to step over everything in the closet without tripping, I lunged and pressed myself into him. His large arms wrapped around me like a cocoon as I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was surprised, and found it a bit disturbing, to see him fully clad in a ‘men in black’ uniform, but there he was, holding me tight with the devil’s attire covering him.

“Oh!” Keanu suddenly exclaimed and I looked up at his surprised face. Following his gaze into the belly of the closet, I locked eyes with the frightened cleaning lady.

She’d shoved herself behind one of the wooden storage shelves. Appearing terribly cramped and uncomfortable, I extended my hand to help her out. Clumsily, she clambered out of her hiding spot. Obviously shaken, she mumbled something incoherent as she meandered her way past us and out the door.

Smoothing back her untidy hair, she turned to look at us as she stated. “I will pray for you. Whatever happens.”

“Come on. This way.” His hand on the small of my back, Keanu ushered me swiftly towards the end of the hallway.

Approaching a large steel door just north of the janitorial closet, I thought it was ironic that it would have been the exact escape route that the cleaning lady and I would have used.

Pushing the door open, Keanu checked the area for unwanted eyes before letting me come through.

“Okay.” Waving his hand for me to move forward and follow him, I cringed as my bare feet left the cool tile of the facility and landed on the freezing cement floor of the parking garage. Exhaling, my breath fogged as the heat of my body clashed with the frigid air around me.

Winter.

I’d forgotten that this side of the world was likely embraced in the throes of an arctic season which made this venture even more dangerous.

Hand in hand, we moved quickly through the garage. Leading me toward a dark sedan near the very back of the building, Keanu silently pointed to some cameras that were hidden atop cement pillars. Thankfully, Keanu seemed to know all their exact locations and the directions they were pointing. It appeared that he’d strategically parked this car in the cameras’ blind spots.

I marveled at his agent abilities. Up until now, I hadn’t seen him in action. Calm, smooth and in control, he reminded me of a young Hawaiian James Bond.

With the keys in his hand, he popped the trunk a few feet before we reached the car. Lifting the lid, he pulled out a large piece of black fabric. It didn’t flow like a blanket though, it was rigid and oval.

Signaling for me to get into the trunk, I paused and gave him a wary glance. He gave me a reassuring smile and I reluctantly climbed into the trunk of the car, hoping that it would not become my means of travel for very long. I’d never been one to be claustrophobic, but this was certainly going to test my limits.

Lying down, it was surprisingly comfortable. The view from the trunk, however, was unnerving.

A coffin.

That’s what it reminded me of. Even though I’d obviously never been in a coffin before, I was certain this would be the view—and the lid was coming down soon.

After giving me a final reassuring look, Keanu placed the strange fabric over me like an enormous black shield. With only tiny slivers of light gliding in from under the fabric, I was suddenly buried in complete darkness.

Chapter 13

There was a kid I knew on the reserve, his name was Juno. He had been hit by a drunk driver while riding his bike home from school.

I went to his funeral.

Normally, our tribe’s funerals were an outside, almost festive, event where a soul was reunited with the spirit world. I’d been to several of the elders’ funerals before; it was the celebration of transition.

The body of the deceased was placed on a special altar, decorated with the symbols of their life and times. After much song, dance and food, the altar and their body was lit ablaze, turning their body back to ashes, to become one with the earth again.

Juno’s funeral was not one of these.

My grandmother and I had to travel to a nearby town to attend Juno’s funeral. His parents had left the reservation years before and lived in the ‘modern’ world for a time. They insisted that Juno’s funeral be one of current trends, not a ‘hokey tribal celebration’ as they’d put it.

Entering the funeral parlor, I was immediately intimidated and uncomfortable. Hordes of people, all clothed in black, wept as they hugged one another and uttered their condolences.

An eerie hush lingered over the crowd as the service began; only whispers and the occasional sniffle could be heard. The minister spoke words of sorrow, forgiveness and of Juno’s progression to a heavenly place.

We sang hymns from a booklet and his father read a final letter to his son. Then everyone was invited to approach the casket to say their good-byes.

All I could think about as I stood in the aisle, awaiting my own last moment with Juno, was that it was an open casket.

I had seen plenty of dead bodies before, but they were always older, much older. I’d never laid eyes upon a dead child before. Juno wasn’t a close friend of mine or anything, but I felt incredibly disturbed none the less.

As the person ahead of me approached Juno’s coffin, a sense of anxiety stirred within me.

I didn’t know if I could do this.

Before I knew it, it was my turn. I moved slowly toward the shiny black box. Taking a deep breath in, I summoned the courage from within and looked directly at Juno’s body.

He wasn’t exactly as I remembered him. He looked like he was sleeping, but appeared waxen and fake.