Kesh (10 page)

Kesh wanted to ask Muskrat about the nightmarish city of darkness and fire, but the small creature moved with the momentum of a rodent on a mission, and he decided his questions would have to wait.

They kept on until Kesh's nose was hit with a rich, sickly mixture of oil, and sulfur, and other smells he couldn't identify, chemical smells. Kesh fought off the urge to throw up and moved closer to Muskrat. He noticed the other coyote had done the same.

Now they passed fewer and fewer houses. Some seemed abandoned. Many had broken windows, falling porches, and poorly patched roofs. A couple of them were nothing more than small trailer homes set up on cinder blocks. Then the houses were gone, and Kesh felt impossibly far from his neighborhood. When they turned onto a small narrow dirt road, the meager signs of civilization seemed to have been left behind.

Finally, Muskrat cut in on a two-run driveway and slowed to a waddle. A dog barked frantically and made a terrible fuss just around the bend not far ahead, and he figured it must have sensed the three of them. Muskrat stopped and turned to the children. “Young miss, young mister, you wait here. I'll be right back.”

The tan coyote nodded, and glanced at Kesh. “Okay,” he said. Then Muskrat bounded off toward the bellowing dog. Kesh looked at his companion for an explanation, but he soon realized that she was as new to all of this as he was.

In a moment, Kesh heard an excited yip. Then the dog was silent. Kesh felt his throat get tight, and he instinctively sniffed for something to explain what had happened, but all he smelled was the acrid stench of the smokestacks. Then the small rodent returned and gestured for them to follow him up the driveway.

When they rounded the corner, they were met by a gigantic mastiff, at least a head taller than Kesh, broad and muscled and with a head like a huge fanged block of cement. Kesh was glad to see that the monster was unhurt and even happier to note that it was tied firmly to a strong post. The dog watched the three visitors intently, and Kesh couldn't help but notice that her thick tail wagged ever so subtly.

The house was a combination of plywood, logs and tarpaper. On the outside, it seemed small and dark, set in an open place and sheltered by strong tall pines. The air around it felt suddenly clean, and Kesh had the feeling that this was a safe, good place, somehow protected from the toxic world outside. He looked away for a moment, and when he turned back toward the house, there stood a coyote the size of a wolf, pure white expect for a jet black blaze on his forehead, and even in the dark, he was struck by its gaze.

It was as if they had their own light source, blue and translucent as the ocean in sunlight. Like him, he was a coyote, but Kesh knew that he was a very different kind of animal. He felt both drawn to and wary of the white coyote, and he understood immediately that he was powerful.

This time, there was no circling, no testing, no coyote games, but Kesh had a strong feeling that he knew this creature.

 

Kesh and the other two coyotes trotted along easily behind Muskrat. In one way, he felt strong and free, but there was something else…he felt uneasy in his stomach, uncertain about his place here. First, as silly as it seemed, he had to admit he was not the best looking coyote of the group. Whereas his new friends had coats of warm sand and sable white, he looked pretty much like the pictures he'd seen of coyotes, the scruffy, emaciated cartoon creature he used to watch on television with his dad.

He was terribly plain–maybe even a little homely– he thought. Even so, he was here with these remarkable animals, and he was beginning to sense the importance of this dream, of his mysterious and unsettling gift of sight, and of his role in Grandmother Spider's story.

Kesh had expected Muskrat to lead them back to the familiar path along the river. Instead, he turned into the deepest part of the forest where they came out into a narrowly cut stretch of cleared land between the west branch of the river on the left and a tall steel mesh fence on their right. Just beyond the fence, yellow lights illuminated the open area, almost to the water's edge and inside the compound. They lit up a road that encircled the outer buildings of the Garou Chemical Corporation.

The air no longer tasted clean and sweet the way it had around the white coyote's home. Now, more intensely than ever, Kesh's lungs burned from the same acrid sulfur, ash, and chemical toxins he had smelled that night along the river. This was the odor Muskrat had called “evil.” Now he understood why. He held back the urge to choke and could see the others doing the same. Coyotes are well known for their ability to survive in all kinds of environments, often in the most inhospitable landscape and atmosphere, and the three adjusted quickly. If Muskrat felt any discomfort, he wasn't showing it.

Shortly, he slowed and ambled down the embankment to the water's edge. Kesh let his companions lead the way and yipped in surprise when the tan coyote spoke. “Are you going for a swim, Muskrat?” She made a barking sound that Kesh thought sounded like coyote giggling.

Muskrat spoke gravely: “This is not a pleasure trip, young lady. We're here on serious business.” The coyote fell quiet and hung her head slightly, while the white one studied Kesh as if to measure his reaction. He decided he'd better wait and see. “Okay, my young coyotes, I want you to see something.” Muskrat pointed to an expanse of dark water just beyond the thick growth along the bank. “Now just watch.”

Kesh felt a vibration growing in the earth beneath his feet and heard a breathy whoosh. An oily gray cloud spread out darkly just beneath the surface bubbling up across the surface of the water and swept quickly away by the current. The bubble released a powerful and vile odor that blended with the already toxic air, and Kesh felt the urge to be sick.”

“What is it?” He asked. His young partners glanced toward him, then toward Muskrat. Kesh thought they were probably just as surprised to hear his voice as he had been to hear them a moment earlier when the small coyote had spoken. But surprised or not, he was tired of not knowing. He supposed that, like him, his companions also wanted answers.

Muskrat continued to watch as further along the stuff rose in the brown river and spread out along the surface in a slick, oily ribbon. “I'm not certain, lad. It's probably a mixture: oils, mercury, chlorine, dioxins…a little of everything. It's all poison. It's all evil.” He pulled his small form heavily up from the bank, as if he were weighed down by the overwhelming burden of it all. Then, as if suddenly transformed, he shook his fur and said, “Come on boys and girl. We've got work to do.” He zipped off along the cutaway toward the far building of the chemical plant.

From far off, it was impressively scary, but Kesh was struck with its size. It seemed to go on and on, building after building and long black chimneys jutted into the sky spewing streams of fire and smoke. The small band of new friends ran between the fence line and the river where, from time to time, Muskrat pointed out the places along the bank where hidden outlet pipes were seeping or pouring chemical waste into the water.

When it seemed to Kesh that the factory would go on forever, the gigantic buildings, storage tanks and smokestacks fell away and the fence disappeared. The group found themselves entering a vast open brown field. Trees, shrubs, grass, anything that might grow in this place, had all been cut or burnt away to expose the dirt. The small female coyote asked, “What happened to the plant life?”

Muskrat hissed, “Chemical dumping and defoliation. This ground is poison.”

Kesh said, “What is this place?”

 Looking like a pile of unkempt brown fur, Muskrat sat on his haunches and sighed. “It's a construction site. Garou is planning to expand his company. He's going to build more of this place. A lot more, and he is going to spread more of his poisons to do it.”

Kesh looked to each of his companions. The enormity of the factory and of what they were being asked to do suddenly struck him. He had to wonder if he and his new friends were being asked to do the impossible.
What could they do?
He wondered. They were just kids. And, even if they were coyotes, even if this wasn't just a nightmare, what could a couple of small animals do to stop such power?

Kesh thought Muskrat must have read his mind when the small creature said, “Remember, boy, you are not alone. There are many of us, each preparing to move one stone, then another, then yet another. If together we can move the mountains, we can certainly defeat one small factory.”

The coyotes exchanged glances. Then Muskrat said to all of them, “Have faith, young ones. Have faith.”

 

Everything has changed. Like after that last dream, if it was a dream, I looked hard at nearly every kid at school the next day. I know the other coyotes are there somewhere, and I want to know who they are. No luck yet. I'm getting better each day at seeing the animals in people, especially in other kids, but I haven't seen another coyote yet. At first, I was worried. I thought I might be the only one, but now I know they're out there, and that makes me feel a lot better.

I just want to know who they are. Do they know who I am? Are they as confused as I am? Do their parents know? I should tell mom and dad, but I haven't figured out how to do it. What am I supposed to say? “By the way, mom and dad, I'm a coyote, I've been talking to spiders and muskrats, and I'm supposed to save the universe.”

Mom is calling me for supper. Maybe I can tell them tonight. Anyway, I'm starving. I'll write more later.

 

On this December night, Kesh came to a table set as usual with only a glass, a small dinner plate, a fork and knife, and a napkin. A covered casserole sat in the middle of the table, and when Kesh, his mother, and his father were seated, his mother said, “I hope my men are hungry.” Then, with a flourish, she snatched the cover off to display a casserole dish filled with small, beautifully browned packets in a creamy garlic sauce.

Kesh leaned over to look closely and he thought he saw thin, rubbery tails and, tiny ears on each roasted bundle. He felt very, very uncomfortable when he realized what they were. He wanted to feel repulsed. It was a moist, fragrant dish smothered in a rich in sauce, and it smelled strangely familiar, like comfort food. His nose twitched and his mouth filled with saliva. He had the urge to dig right in, but he caught himself.

He said it aloud, but just under his breath: “Mice.”

“What was that you said, Kesh?” His father asked.

Kesh answered carefully. “I said, this looks really nice.” He looked again.
Yup. They sure look like mice,
he thought. Now, most people would be shocked to find mice in their supper, even mice roasted in a wonderful savory brown sauce, and Kesh certainly felt he should be disgusted.

After all, civilized people don't eat little rodents, not even when they're in an aromatic, gourmet garlic and cream sauce. Little crispy ears were not really as delicious as they looked, and the tails, shimmering in the brown sauce, weren't the combination of chewy and crunchy that he might have imagined. Kesh tried to ignore the tingling excitement that was growing in his stomach over the juicy, silky, succulent brown packets.

“Come on, everybody, dig in,” said his mother. “Here, Kesh, let me serve you.” She dipped a spoon into the casserole and placed three perfectly cooked mice onto Kesh's plate. Then she ladled up a spoonful of the juices. “This is for my growing boy,” she said, as she drizzled the shiny gravy over the little bodies on his plate. The mice glistened in a pool of thick, rich liquid like the featured dish in one of his mother's gourmet magazines, and the aroma was almost too much to bear. Kesh had the urge to grab one of the little morsels with his teeth, but he restrained himself.

“Th-thanks, Mom.” Kesh moved the creatures with his fork. “Mom? What is this?”

She laughed, and he couldn't help but think he heard a hint of hissing in her voice. “Why, Kesh, it's meatloaf, silly. I thought you loved meatloaf.”

Kesh looked down at his plate to discover that the succulent little mouse bodies had disappeared. In their place was a slice of crumbling brown meatloaf, a small yellow pile of canned corn, and a pasty blob of mashed potatoes drowned in his mom's lumpy brown gravy. Kesh swallowed hard. He was getting pretty good at dealing with surprises, but the coyote in him felt more than a little disappointed. “Oh , I see. Of course it is. Thanks, Mom.” As he chewed on the dry meat mixture, Kesh caught himself wishing for crunchy roasted mice swimming in a rich brown sauce.

“Oh, by the way…” This was his dad's usual lead-in to dinner conversation. Then he would go into a discussion of the day's news, something about work, and the hockey or football rankings. Kesh never said much of anything, because he wouldn't want to hurt his dad's feelings. But the stories were almost always painfully boring. Tonight was different.

His dad got his attention when he said, “Today I heard that Garou Chemical is trying to expand. Apparently, they've been trying to buy up the whole riverfront area from shanty town to the edge of Shaw's field just outside of town, and a few families don't want to sell. Nobody knows what's going to happen, but Louis Garou usually gets what he wants, and people who get in the way don't seem to last very long.”

“What do you mean,
don't last very long
?” asked Kesh.

Kesh's father glanced at his wife for her approval, and she nodded. “Well, Kesh, they're only rumors, but for as long as the company has been here, people who oppose Garou Chemical have very bad luck. They inevitably end up getting in accidents or having other unfortunate things happen to them. In fact, some of them have simply disappeared.”