"The Land That Knows No Leaving"
"The Land That Knows No Leaving"
4/22/2021
He had found the old Lutheran church outside Endicott, Massachusets without any trouble. Jeremy Bane pulled up the narrow road that circled the cemetery and parked his car. From what he could see, the stones at the front near the church were the oldest and most elaborate, their edges worn down and the inscriptions eroded. The further back on the property, the newer the stones looked. He got out and walked slowly across the lush grass. It had been a warm wet Spring. Everything was growing, flowers and trees and bushes, even in a graveyard.
He was wearing all black because he always wore all black. It was appropriate now, he thought. There, in the back row close to where the property ended, stood a plain granite cross eight inches high. KATHERINE ANNE WHEATLEY 1959-2021. The Dire Wolf gazed down at it, waiting for some emotional reaction but feeling nothing except a vague sense of disbelief. Maybe there was something wrong with him, he sometimes wondered, his feelings were always so muted.
But considering his desperate childhood as an orphan of the streets, that would be no wonder. A lifetime fighting the secret Midnight War wouldn't have made him tender and sentimental either. Bane glanced up as a gleaming red Datsun drove up with its engine hardly audible. Instantly, all his instincts kicked into high gear, his left hand slipping behind him to grip the butt of his revolver holstered at his hip and his body ready to dive behind the elm tree he had automatically positioned himself near.
But decades of Kumundu training and bitter experience told him to ease up. The man getting out from behind the wheel was no threat. Early sixties, seriously overweight, left knee giving trouble.. Bane took it all in with a flash. No weapons under the sedate brown business suit. As the man neared, his greying black hair and blue eyes marked the family resemblance.
"Did you know Katherine?" was the first thing the man said, politely enough.
"A long time ago," Bane replied. "It seems like a different world now. You're John, right? She told me she had an older brother and showed me a few photos but none of us look the way we did back then."
John Wheatley held out his right hand for a shake. "Of course. When she was staying in Manhattan with that expert, Kenneth Dred. Give me a second. Bane. Jeremy Bane, of course. Katherine never said much about you but I could tell you left quite an
impression."
"I'm sorry now I didn't try to keep in touch. I could have. But she wanted to move on with life and forget... the things she saw."
"That's alright," Wheatley said, moving around to stand alongside Bane facing the stone. "I know all about it. Hard to believe, impossible to believe really unless you were used to having a sister who was a telepath."
Bane was at a loss what to say. "Remembering how modest she was, I don't know if she ever told you some of the work we did that year. Katherine helped a lot of people in a short amount of time. She was good at healing trauma and counselling, even if she was only eighteen."
"You couldn't have been much older."
"No. But I was... I had led a hard life. I was distant from everyone. Even those people who were trying to help me." Bane let out an uncharacteristic sigh. "But the past can't be undone. We can't go back and change things."
"No. It's just as well. Jeremy, you know she died of pancreatic cancer?"
"No, I didn't. Someone we both knew told me only that she had passed away. He saw the service notice in the local paper. Pancreatic cancer? That seems so unfair. She didn't deserve it."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," Wheatley said. "If you're a heavy drinker or smoker all your life, you can't complain if you get cirrhosis or lung cancer. But she did nothing to earn that disease. It just happens to people."
"I guess. We're not punished or rewarded by karma or anything." The Dire Wolf straightened up and stepped a bit closer to the stone. "Sometimes I wish I believed in something that would make sense of out of life, why we're here and why we go."
John Wheatley unexpectedly placed a hand on Bane's shoulder and surprisingly the Dire Wolf did not move away. "That's where a little faith helps us. The loss still hurts, of course, but I believe that I will be seeing her again someday. Everything will be explained."
"Huh. We'll have to go where she is, then," Bane said. "She can't come to see us."
"No. The land that knows no leaving is how our minister described it. I would give everything I own to talk to her for a few minutes, but that's not something that's given to us. Thank you for coming to pay your respects, Jeremy."
Bane looked up and met Wheatley's calm gaze with relief. "We have to do the best we can with what we know. We're dealt our cards and we play the game until it's time to fold. That's how I figure it."
"Listen, I am out here every Sunday. But you drove a long way to say goodbye. I'll leave you to your thoughts. Take care." Turning away, Wheatley limped back to his car and drove off toward the main road.
Left alone, Jeremy Bane sank down to sit facing the stone. He was remembering when Kenneth Dred had taken him in and given him purpose. He remembered meeting Katherine, keeping her at a distance despite how warmly she had treated him. How she had left and never come back. Suddenly it hurt.
10/6/2021
4/22/2021
He had found the old Lutheran church outside Endicott, Massachusets without any trouble. Jeremy Bane pulled up the narrow road that circled the cemetery and parked his car. From what he could see, the stones at the front near the church were the oldest and most elaborate, their edges worn down and the inscriptions eroded. The further back on the property, the newer the stones looked. He got out and walked slowly across the lush grass. It had been a warm wet Spring. Everything was growing, flowers and trees and bushes, even in a graveyard.
He was wearing all black because he always wore all black. It was appropriate now, he thought. There, in the back row close to where the property ended, stood a plain granite cross eight inches high. KATHERINE ANNE WHEATLEY 1959-2021. The Dire Wolf gazed down at it, waiting for some emotional reaction but feeling nothing except a vague sense of disbelief. Maybe there was something wrong with him, he sometimes wondered, his feelings were always so muted.
But considering his desperate childhood as an orphan of the streets, that would be no wonder. A lifetime fighting the secret Midnight War wouldn't have made him tender and sentimental either. Bane glanced up as a gleaming red Datsun drove up with its engine hardly audible. Instantly, all his instincts kicked into high gear, his left hand slipping behind him to grip the butt of his revolver holstered at his hip and his body ready to dive behind the elm tree he had automatically positioned himself near.
But decades of Kumundu training and bitter experience told him to ease up. The man getting out from behind the wheel was no threat. Early sixties, seriously overweight, left knee giving trouble.. Bane took it all in with a flash. No weapons under the sedate brown business suit. As the man neared, his greying black hair and blue eyes marked the family resemblance.
"Did you know Katherine?" was the first thing the man said, politely enough.
"A long time ago," Bane replied. "It seems like a different world now. You're John, right? She told me she had an older brother and showed me a few photos but none of us look the way we did back then."
John Wheatley held out his right hand for a shake. "Of course. When she was staying in Manhattan with that expert, Kenneth Dred. Give me a second. Bane. Jeremy Bane, of course. Katherine never said much about you but I could tell you left quite an
impression."
"I'm sorry now I didn't try to keep in touch. I could have. But she wanted to move on with life and forget... the things she saw."
"That's alright," Wheatley said, moving around to stand alongside Bane facing the stone. "I know all about it. Hard to believe, impossible to believe really unless you were used to having a sister who was a telepath."
Bane was at a loss what to say. "Remembering how modest she was, I don't know if she ever told you some of the work we did that year. Katherine helped a lot of people in a short amount of time. She was good at healing trauma and counselling, even if she was only eighteen."
"You couldn't have been much older."
"No. But I was... I had led a hard life. I was distant from everyone. Even those people who were trying to help me." Bane let out an uncharacteristic sigh. "But the past can't be undone. We can't go back and change things."
"No. It's just as well. Jeremy, you know she died of pancreatic cancer?"
"No, I didn't. Someone we both knew told me only that she had passed away. He saw the service notice in the local paper. Pancreatic cancer? That seems so unfair. She didn't deserve it."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," Wheatley said. "If you're a heavy drinker or smoker all your life, you can't complain if you get cirrhosis or lung cancer. But she did nothing to earn that disease. It just happens to people."
"I guess. We're not punished or rewarded by karma or anything." The Dire Wolf straightened up and stepped a bit closer to the stone. "Sometimes I wish I believed in something that would make sense of out of life, why we're here and why we go."
John Wheatley unexpectedly placed a hand on Bane's shoulder and surprisingly the Dire Wolf did not move away. "That's where a little faith helps us. The loss still hurts, of course, but I believe that I will be seeing her again someday. Everything will be explained."
"Huh. We'll have to go where she is, then," Bane said. "She can't come to see us."
"No. The land that knows no leaving is how our minister described it. I would give everything I own to talk to her for a few minutes, but that's not something that's given to us. Thank you for coming to pay your respects, Jeremy."
Bane looked up and met Wheatley's calm gaze with relief. "We have to do the best we can with what we know. We're dealt our cards and we play the game until it's time to fold. That's how I figure it."
"Listen, I am out here every Sunday. But you drove a long way to say goodbye. I'll leave you to your thoughts. Take care." Turning away, Wheatley limped back to his car and drove off toward the main road.
Left alone, Jeremy Bane sank down to sit facing the stone. He was remembering when Kenneth Dred had taken him in and given him purpose. He remembered meeting Katherine, keeping her at a distance despite how warmly she had treated him. How she had left and never come back. Suddenly it hurt.
10/6/2021