Shifting

which of us was the wise man and which of us was mad.

We did it privately, in her office. She had a drowned-cat look on her face when we both marched in there, looking very serious. I think she knew right away, but she played it straight.

“What’s the matter, boys? Not another storm.”

“No Doc,” I said quietly. I put my saber on the conference table between us. The Captain closed the door quietly behind us and stood there. Wilton’s eyes flicked over each of these significant elements of the scene.

“Well, something is up. Just tell me,” she said, and she almost snapped it, suddenly irritable.

I gestured brusquely toward her leg. “What happened to your foot, Doc? Some kind of accident?”

She crossed her arms, but otherwise didn’t move. She glared at both of us. “Yes, obviously.”

I nodded and took a step closer. “Been noticing that limp of yours.”

“There has got to be more to this dramatic show than that.”

I pinched my lips up tightly and looked at her. “We have to know, Doc. We have to see it.”

She nodded once, curtly, and sat down. “So that’s it.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

She took up her annotated book again and paged through it rapidly. “May I read you a passage?”

I glanced back at the Captain, but he just watched us both with dark eyes. He gave no hint as to what I should do.

“Okay, Doc.”

The Nisses of Norway, we are told, are fond of the moonlight, and in the winter time they may be seen jumping over the yard, or driving in sledges. They are also skilled in music and dancing, and will, it is said, give instructions on the fiddle for a grey sheep, like the Swedish Stromkarl.

Every church, too, has its Nis, who looks to order, and chastises those who misbehave themselves. He is called the Kirkegrim.

She closed the book and looked at us triumphantly. I could see she believed she had made some critical point. We stared back flatly.

“Dr. Grimm wrote that-you know,” her voice took on a note of desperation, “the German fellow who spent so much time compiling all the old folklore of Europe.”

“That’s a nice piece, Doctor, but I’m not quite sure what it has to do with-”

“Don’t you see? They aren’t all evil! There are good ones-and bad ones. All of the histories of these creatures that have returned to us during these dark times are filled with stories of both good and evil. Think of the angels of the Bible, the elves that helped the farmers…”

“Okay, I get it. And your point is well taken. Notice, we are in here without the rest of them. We have not told any of the others. We don’t plan to do you harm.”

“What do you plan, then?”

I told her that we had chosen exile. I even discussed the other possibilities with her, which we had rejected.

“Logical,” she said. “Flawlessly logical… Except that I’m not a threat!”

I shook my head. “I don’t think we can take the chance. We’d be remiss in our responsibilities. There have been so many mistakes already.”

“And you are making another one! But very well, I’ll go then. I’ll take a lantern and a bag of food, if you will allow me that!”

“Of course,” I said.

Without further ceremony, she pushed past me and made for the door. Her limp seemed more pronounced than ever. She walked with a peculiar gait, as if one leg was shorter than the other.

She came close to the Captain, who didn’t budge from his position in front of the door. The Captain gave me a look with raised eyebrows.

I sighed. “We have to see it, Wilton.”

She whirled on me and stood there, clutching her lantern. Her hands trembled. “Why?” she asked, her voice almost pleading.

“I have to see something. We have to know.”

She paused a moment, her eyes pleading with both of us. She saw no mercy in them. With laborious slowness, she bent down and pushed at her boot. The boot seemed too small or her foot too thick. I could tell as she pushed it off that it pained her.

“You should have let me shoot myself, Gannon,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “when I had the courage.”

Somehow I was surprised when I saw it, even though I should not have been. There, at the end of her leg, thick course hair sprouted in a mix of brown and white about half way down her calf. At the terminus, where there should have been a foot, there was now a gray hoof.

The hoof was cloven and had three thick points to it.

Twenty-One

Wilton got her boot jammed back on and gathered up the lantern and a paper sack of canned goods as we’d promised her. It was dusk when we got outside. I thought about offering her to stay the night, but it seemed like a mistake. I knew somehow it would be that much harder to get this over with in the morning.

We almost got her out the door without anyone noticing. Vance, of course, being blessed with a prairie dog’s acuity of senses, knew something was up and appeared suspiciously to waylay us.

“Where’s the Doc going?” Vance asked as we helped the old lady with a limp out the front door.

“She’s going,” I said simply. I took hold of one of Wilton’s elbows to guide her over the rubble, but she shook me off and tottered out into the parking lot on her own.

“What do you mean she’s going?” Vance demanded very loudly. A few other heads poked out into the lobby to see what was going on.

Carlene Mitts was among them. Her face was stitched in worry. She went outside and accosted Doctor Wilton in the parking lot.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Doc,” she said, “But I’m worried about my little Nancy. She cried all last night because she’s getting sick. She’s got a cough.”

“Children get sick all the time, she’ll be fine.”

“She’s got a fever.”

There was kindness in Wilton when she turned to her. I saw it in her eyes and it made me feel guilty.

“Take the antibiotic marked amoxicillin,” Wilton told her. “A red plastic bottle you’ll find in the dentist office. They always keep a supply on hand for people who get root canals. She’s not allergic to penicillin derivatives, is she?”

Carlene shook her head, “I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

“Good, open up the capsules and mix them into her juice. One half a capsule three times a day should do it. Don’t overdose her, she’ll get diarrhea. If she gets hives, stop feeding it to her and give her an antihistamine.”

“Doctor, why are you leaving?” Carlene asked. “This is your office now, for crying out loud. We are all your guests, really. Maybe it is all of us who should leave.”

“I can’t stay, my dear. This place is only for the pure,” she said with a dark venomous glance at me.

More people were coming out now. Holly Nelson was there, and Monika. Even Mr. Nelson had managed to get his wheelchair to the entrance and gazed out at the drama unfolding in the parking lot. News travels fast in a small village.

“This is crazy,” said Vance, putting up his hands to beseech us all to come to our senses. “Whatever the fight was about, we can get over it. There’s no need to break up now. We can put it together, trust me.”