“I was devastated by her murder,” Xavier says. “And she was my friend. I just had no attachment to her. There would have come a day when we would have drifted out of each other’s lives because there would be no reason to still be connected. It isn’t a bad thing. That’s just my reality.”
“So, that will happen to me? I’ll wear out my usefulness to you and you’ll remember weird things about me, but nothing else?”
He takes another step toward me. “You believed me when no one else did. You listened to me. You saved me. You brought me Dean and Sam and… and Millie. Emma, you’re my rainbow.”
Chapter Eleven
By the time we get back to the cabin half an hour later, Xavier still hasn’t told me exactly what we were looking for, and the cold combined with the conversation has left me drained. I crawl onto the couch with every intention in the world just relaxing for a little while and watching some TV while I warm up. The next thing I know, I snap awake with a pair of wide eyes only a couple of inches away from mine.
It takes me a breathless second to realize it’s Xavier hanging over the back of the couch to look at me.
“Xavier,” I say. “What are you doing?”
“Elliot the ant,” he says.
“That’s right,” I say, starting to sit up. Fortunately, he takes the hint and moves away so I can get all the way vertical. “You never explained that to me.”
“Elephants have their graveyard, according to legend. It isn’t scientifically proven, and a lot of people contend that it doesn’t exist. But the point is, popular notion holds it does exist, which means it has validity and the strong possibility of concurrent existence in one or more parallel universes,” he says.
“You believe in parallel universes?” I ask.
“It can’t be disproven. I uphold the inalienable right of all people to believe whatever they please. No matter how mind-bending, needlessly complicated, or absurdly out of reach. I won’t begrudge someone their inability to answer the simple question: ‘if there are supposedly potentially infinite versions of me in these other universes, why don’t we share the same consciousness?’ Even though that inherently creates the paradox of the self without the self, the body without the mind versus the mind without the body. How can it be me without me within me? And does that make this the master universe and the others offshoots? Or am I just being a slave to the contemporary aptitude-testing culture that wants me to box myself in while unboxing myself in inane animal analogies. I will still absolutely defend their right to believe in whatever body-thieving mutated carbon copy worldview they choose,” he says.
I pull the blanket over my lap and give my head a hard shake to make all of that settle into whatever crevices of my brain it’ll fit in.
“Well, that’s a hell of a demonstration sign right there,” I say.
“The popular legend of the elephant graveyard contends there is a mystical hidden place on the African savanna, where elephants who can sense they are reaching the end of their lives travel alone to die. They separate themselves completely from the rest of their herds and go through the process of death alone. The rest of the herd processes death much like humans do, by visiting the corpses, touching them, and mourning over them,” Xavier says. “Ants, on the other hand, carry their dead away. If they die within the colony, they let them sit for approximately two days, then take the corpses out of the nest and dispose of them in a pile of other dead ants, or even bury them. If an ant dies away from the nest, others will go and retrieve the body. They keep track of every member of the colony, and if one leaves and does not return, they will send scouts out to look for it. A chemical trail leaves olfactory signals that indicate where that ant went.
“It’s the same type of trail used to indicate where food is going to be found. In the instance of a death, ants will find the missing member of their colony, carry the corpse back to the nest on their backs, and dispose of it in the same way they would have if it had died at home. There are a few different theories as to why they do this. One is to protect the colony from contamination and illness, going so far as to isolate the corpse apart from the other ants. The other is protecting the colony from enemies by removing the corpse and eliminating the chemical trail. And another is protecting the colony by taking note of where their fallen member died and in what circumstances, so others do not return to that place.”
“I still don’t think I’m following why Elliot is an ant,” I speak up.
“The rescue organization,” Xavier says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It came for its dead. They didn’t get to take his body, but they took his car and he made sure to cover up any trail of him, down to the false information on the form and taking off his dog tags. But at the same time, those cover-up measures were still a trail that led you to him.”
“I already knew he was protecting me,” I say. “That was why he came here. To protect me from Jonah.”
“But how did they carry him away so no one could follow him back to the colony?”
“What do you mean? I told you he drove in and called to ask another of the Murdocks to come get his car so it wouldn’t be found,” I say.
“Right. But where? I’ll go so far as to relent that I may be wrong about the path he took around the cabin. I don’t think I am. I still believe you would have noticed his movement in the window just
