Exousia - The Patron Saints of the Damned -Book II
Chapter 25 - Mother of Meaning

As Brennan slept, the sun slowly dropped in the sky until the forest around him was painted in hues of yellow and pink. And with the setting sun, the temperature of the breeze lowered. With his drifting in and out of sleep, this felt like it was happening in fast motion. Each time he woke, the sky had changed and hours had gone by. He dreamed in vague images before these became scenes with characters and stories. One of these was a religious story from long before the forest. It was the story of creation, which he’d learned as a child when a church teacher had given them coloring pages featuring Adam, Eve, and Garden of Eden. The dreams felt strange to him because he hadn’t thought about that story in years, not since his parents had become too busy for regular church attendance.

In the story he remembered, God had told Adam and Eve not to eat the fruit from the tree. But both ate the fruit after being tricked by the snake. They were banished and cursed with mortality. Of course, he couldn’t say that he ever believed this story to be any more than a parable meant to teach a lesson. But … what had been the intended moral of that story? How could one little piece of fruit that gave you the ability to determine good from evil, be worth the cost of death? The idea of living in a garden where everything was perfect sounded like a sweet deal. Even if knowledge was purposefully being hidden from him, why should he worry about something he couldn’t control? In the end of the story, the entire world was cursed to die for one person’s actions. Maybe that was the point of the story. If you messed around with big things, your actions had big consequences for both one’s self and everyone else.

In Brennan’s dream, he saw himself in a beautiful garden that looked just like the place he slept. There were beautiful flowering plants around him, and the tree was filled with ripe fruit of knowledge. The difference between his dream garden and the forest was scale. The garden stretched far into the distance, filled with various non-threatening exotic animals—colorful birds, deer, and small mammals. He walked through the garden with the cursed purple fruit in his hand. The longer he held the fruit and watched it, the more he wanted to take a bite. But he didn’t. Eating it would make him see what was happening and probably kill him. And he was quite sure that it wasn’t worth the cost.

Brennan froze when he suddenly saw a woman standing on the other side of the tree–facing away from him. With her shoulder bare, it was clear that she was probably naked. Her red hair was tossed wildly by the wind, revealing the tan skin that was taught over the muscles of her strong and feminine back. As soon as she turned around to face him, his mind joined hers. Somehow, through the logic only possibly in a dream, he became her … but was also himself, watching the scene invisibly from above.

He was … Eve … mother of humanity. She stood in the garden, looking at the animals and beautiful plants around her with childlike innocence … as well as a sorrowful emotion. She had been left to bide her time while her husband took care of important business. So, in her loneliness, she’d come to this place.

A hissing creature with a soothing tone said, “Hello Eve.” It was the sort of voice one could imagine belonging to a serpent. Sure enough, a snake slithered down from the tree. It was green, exaggeratedly so like a crayon.

Eve said hello with joy, sort of like a child who knew neither danger nor mistrust. But there was also an element of familiarity to her reactions, making it clear that she knew the animal as a friend. “Adam and God are talking, and so they sent me away. It’s alright though; I get to come see you.”

The serpent regarded her words with a genuine look of concern and disgust in his eyes. “Eve … after all these years, aren’t you tired of being a child?” It seemed he was genuinely appalled at how this poor mortal was being treated.

Eve thought back to when she’d asked to join God and Adam on their walk, only to be regarded with amused and patronizing looks. But she forced herself to keep smiling and shrug it off like it didn’t matter to her. This was made a bit easier by the fact that she did genuinely enjoy the company of the snake. The serpent was the only creature who showed her any real kindness and respect. At first, she had felt nervous and guilty for being so close to it. But nobody had cared enough to warn her away from it. All instruction was communicated to her husband, the first person. She was just the product of a spare rib, so what did it even matter what she did?

“Don’t you want to understand?” The serpent asked, taking a moment to flash an indignant glare at the sky. “For Adam and God and all his servants to take you seriously for once in your life?”

Eve nodded her head, slowly. Even the title that she’d been given was ‘helper.’ This was the same title used for service animals, indicating no more importance than a dog, horse, or donkey. To them, she was domesticated, obedient, and stupid. And that’s how she felt. All she wanted was to be able to talk and think as an equal to them.

The snake nodded. “Eat this fruit, and you’ll be a player in the game. No longer will you be just a pawn in the schemes of God and your husband. You will make yourself the most important being who has ever lived.” He picked up a fruit with his mouth and lowered it gently into her palm.

Eve could feel the power and promise emanating from it.

“Taste it, and you will end the monotony of your existence as a prized attraction in God’s little petting zoo. Become the mother of death, the bringer of meaning and struggle. Plant the seed of every great story that will ever be told.”

Eve took the fruit. If she took a bite, humans would no longer be the smart monkeys in God’s personal zoo. They would be players in the game, their actions would matter, and their choices would carry the significance. And even if they had to pay the ultimate price, wasn’t the chance of a meaningful existence worth the cost? Or was it better to be inconsequential—helpless to make any change but also not accountable for the horror around her?

Eve took a bite … and soon learned that the serpent had spoken the truth. The garden, the tree, and everything else withered away. She also vanished into oblivion, experiencing all the joy and pain of her remaining life in an instant.

Then Brennan found himself alone in the dead forest. He looked down at the fruit that had been dropped on the ground. It looked just like a plum with red nectar dripping from the place the first woman had bitten it. It seemed to call to him, promising meaning, purpose, fulfillment, and the power he needed to protect the ones he loved. But just like the snake’s promise, the dark pit in the center seemed to tell him that it would come at a price.

He felt tremendous fear at the idea of releasing darkness across the earth or even just within himself. The bruises on his sister’s arm … that was what he was capable of when just trying to help as he was. What sorts of injuries might he leave with real power? Despite his doubt, Brennan touched the fruit and felt a burn in the tip of his finger that was hot enough to wake him from his dream.

Brennan sat straight up, no longer sleeping. The pain in this finger was gone, but he’d heard something … a shout? Looking around, he saw his friends also waking. Megan … Megan wasn’t there! Brennan pocketed the fruit he’d held in his sleep and ran to find his sister.

-O-

Marshal didn’t sleep much as the noon sun slowly lowered in the sky. He had tried to sleep as soon as the rest of them had, and he’d failed. Whenever he had come close to falling asleep, he heard the bottle shatter again, and it woke him instantly. Then his stomach would cramp, and he’d feel nausea. And no amount of telling himself that it wasn’t his fault was enough to make that go away. As many times as he repeated it, the words felt hollow coming from himself. He wanted one of his friends to tell him that it was okay … that it would have been nearly impossible to make that throw, given the pressure, the lack of sleep, and everything else. But he knew that he couldn’t even face up to the others and tell them what he’d done.

Under other circumstances, his friends might have understood that it was just an accident–that he had been aiming for the wolf. If it had happened outside of the woods, they would have immediately disregarded the idea. But they were different now … scared, paranoid, and ready to turn on anyone they feared. And with the idea floating around that there was an evil force trying to make one of them turn on one another, there was no telling what they would think or do if they found out.

So, Marshal remained silent and alone, ignoring the occasional bits of movement coming from around him. He kept his eyes shut and hoped that help would come in the form of police sirens or a helicopter. But as the hours passed and the sun began to set, this seemed less likely.

Then he heard Megan shout from the other side of the tree.

Marshal jumped to his feet and ran toward the sound of her voice, ahead of all the others. He balled his fists, trying to make himself feel ready to fight. But his entire body trembled. He rushed passed briers, bushes, sapling, and vines until he spotted her. But as he approached, he realized that she was okay, looking like she had just woken up.

The Woodcutter, however, was unconscious and deathly still. There was no deep breathing, no subtle movements, and no signal of natural sleep. It was more like all life had left her; she was just a rag-doll.

“What happened?” Marshal asked, just as the rest of his friends arrived and circled around. For a moment, he thought that maybe Megan had knocked the Woodcutter out.

“There was something out there. It … made us both pass out. But she’s not waking up.” Megan then moved her head, so her cheek was close to the Woodcutter’s lips. It was the way she had taught them to check for breath in the CPR portion of their scout training. “Somebody go get water!”

Sam pointed at the canteen that was hanging almost unnoticeably under the Woodcutter’s faded green hoodie. He picked it up, took off his shirt, sprinkled a little bit of of water onto the fabric, and handed his wet shirt to her. Megan took the soaked button-down shirt and brought it to her forehead.

But Billy caught her hand before she could press the wet shirt to his face. “Wait … if she’s unconscious, what are we doing trying to help her? We still don’t know that she was trying to help us. I mean, there’s the wolves. But she could have trained them herself.”

“Let go.” Megan wrenched her wrist free and put the shirt against the Woodcutter’s forehead while checking her pulse. Judging by her expression, it seemed that she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. She tried tapping the Woodcutter’s face and then shaking her.

Meanwhile, Marshal could not help but consider what Billy had said. After all, it seemed that they had to believe in one of two possibilities. Either they were being rescued by a magical forest-wizard who spoke to wolves, or they were being toyed with by a maniac. Surprisingly, the answer did not feel as obvious as it should have. He said, “I … guess I’ll state the obvious. If we want to get rid of her, now will probably be our only chance.”

Megan turned and gave him a scornful look, while some of the others looked at him, surprised.

“But, um, what I mean is-” Marshal corrected, his face turning red. “We need to look at our options, whether we take them or not. This may be our only chance to kill her. But there are still the wolves to worry about. And if she’s telling the truth, there may be worse people watching us.”

Billy and Derrick listened to his suggestion with sparks of interest that were visible in how their eyes seemed just a little more alert than before, Jodie and Sam just looked down at their own feet with scared expressions. And Brennan just stared out at the forest with a distant and distracted look.

“And if she is protecting us or if even if she’s just crazy, we’ve murdered someone in cold blood,” Megan said and shook her head. “She made it pretty clear that we could turn around and leave at any time. She’s not a threat to us.”

“And … what if she doesn’t wake up?” Jodie asked. He tried to look them in the eyes though it was clearly difficult for him.

Megan shook her head and exhaled slowly. “We can’t fight those things or run from them.”

“Megan’s right,” Brennan said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s face the fact that we’re not going to get away from the wolves unless a police helicopter finds us. Either way, our best bet is to buy more time. We should stay here and keep her safe.”

Marshal found that both their words made sense. But he still couldn’t shake the mental image of this all being some sort of perverse ritual. Pushing them to exhaustion to make them crazy before she killed them. So he asked, “None of this makes any sense. Do you really think he’s really trying to protect us from another killer who has trained wolves or something? It sounds impossible.”

“Oh no, I think Megan’s right,” Derrick said with spite in his tone. He glared at her with swollen and pink eyes. His face was red, and the veins in his temples stuck out as he clenched his jaw. “We should just follow a serial killer around like ducklings in a row until her pets eat us one by one. You know, give them dinner and a show.”

“Shut up; that’s not funny,” Brennan said, his own eyes also looking swollen, tired, and agitated.

“You may not think so, but I bet the Woodcutter thinks it’s hilarious!” Derrick replied with a veomous smile. “And do you want to know what I think is funny? That your sister has a little crush on our rugged kidnapper. I mean, I didn’t think she swung that way, but to each their own. But can we really trust anything that little Miss Stockholm’s has to say about any of this?”

Brennan took a threatening step towards him.

But Marshal immediately stood between the two and faced Derrick. He could feel the heat of anger in his own chest and had to remain quiet for a moment to keep his cool. He took a breath and said, “You need to calm the fuck down.”

“Jealous?” Derrick asked, spittle coming from his mouth. “Yeah, I see you trying not to look at her. You want her dead, too, you’re just too much of a pussy to do anything about it because of your own stupid little crush on Megan! Well, she’s clearly not into you, so get over it.”

Jodie took a heavy step forward and, with a low and rumbling voice, said, “Stop it, Derrick. We’re all sorry about what happened to Ted. He was my friend … my best friend. But you know that he wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this.” By the time he finished speaking, his voice had become soft and choked.

Derrick seethed at him with more loathing than he’d spent on the rest of them, even the Woodcutter altogether. He looked ready to swing at Jodie.

Finally Megan shouted, “Guys! Stop it!” The intensity of her sudden outburst was enough to quiet them all down for a moment.

Derrick stormed away to the other side of the tree. The rest of them looked down uncomfortably at their feet.

Megan sighed heavily and said, “We can’t keep falling apart like this. Whatever we do, it needs to be together. And … I know it seems crazy, but I think we can show her that we’re not just … obstacles for her. Even if she is a killer, I think we should make her see us as people.”

Marshal thought about this for a moment. It made sense … and it was something he remembered David saying about serial killers once. They tried to dehumanize their victims. And the best thing to do was to make them see their victims as actual people. He nodded and said, “Yeah … she really doesn’t want to care about us. Trying to change that … it’s worth a shot.”

“That still doesn’t tell us what we do if … she doesn’t wake up,” Jodie said, bringing their attention back to the problem at hand. “We could wait a few hours, but we’ve not eaten or had water. We don’t have much time to sit around.”

“What do you think?” Sam asked him. Marshall felt a cold sensation of surprise and anxiety by his words … and more so by his sudden lucidity. Sam … he had been the only person who had seen what had happened with the bottle. And now that he was recovering … would he say something?

“Well…” Jodie looked down and scratched the back of his neck. “She said that the tree was safe, so we’ll leave her here. Some of us can try to get back to the fire tower. If we make it, we’ll send the police to come and get the rest of you. And if we don’t … the rest of you can still wait for her to wake up.”

“That makes sense,” Brennan said, with a nod. His face was heavy, and it was clear that he didn’t like the idea. But he looked up and added. “I’ll go with you.”

“Me too,” Billy said and took a step forward. His voice cracked when he said it, but he did seem sincere for the first time since they’d known him.

With that, the matter seemed to have been resolved, and there was another awkward moment of nobody knowing quite what to say before all of them dispersed.

Only Megan stayed, checking the Woodcutter’s pulse and breath once again and pressing the wet shirt to her head.

Marshal walked away with a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. The sight of her cradling the killer in her arms became the parting image that he took with him, back to where he had slept beside the tree. And it did not go away as he sat down and tried to distract himself. It was instead joined by the sound of the bottle shattering.

-O-

Brennan looked out at the direction of the fire tower, watching the red sunset in the distance. Now that the dust and smoke had settled, the clearing and the woods behind it were visible … as were the holes. But they weren’t holes anymore; they were graves now filled in with dirt. And at least one of his friends was buried inside them. The other had been dragged into the woods by a wolf. He passively wondered if their bodies would be found … if he would come back to help the police find them. And he thought that maybe it would be better if they weren’t. It would be better if their parents didn’t have to see their mauled corpses.

Brennan pictured himself speaking to David’s parents when this was all over. He would talk about his friend’s courage and unwillingness to leave anyone behind. He’d tell her that David’s death had been quick. He wouldn’t mention the injuries from the car accident, his certainty of death, or the wolf dragging his corpse away. They would be devastated. Davis’s dad … well, he was the emotionally distant sort that would bottle it all up inside and react with anger. It would probably be directed at his son’s friends. After all, he hadn’t liked any of them in the first place. And maybe he had a right to be furious … maybe best friends were supposed to be willing to die together.

David certainly had been.

Brennan used his arm to wipe the few tears that he felt dripping down his face. He might soon need to go back over the holes and make his way just as they had come. The plan felt like a suicide mission, but he wasn’t utterly appalled by that fact. In many ways, it would be easier to die and not have to face living without his friends when all this was done.

Brennan placed his hand in his pocket where he’d put a purple fruit. When he did so, he felt the same slight burning from the surface of his finger as he’d felt in his dream. This lasted for a few seconds before anger began to fill him, drowning out all the fear and sorrow. He imagined himself walking to the Woodcutter and stomping her skull in until it exploded like a melon.

Brennan pulled his finger away. He noted that the surface of his skin now felt strangely numb, but the anger and burning were gone. His mind lingered on the image of himself murdering his enemy in her sleep, and this frightened him. He’d never experienced such violent thoughts about anybody he’d ever met … even terrible people.

The Woodcutter perhaps deserved such hatred if she was a kidnapper or if she had chosen not to save Ted and David. But there wasn’t any evidence to say that she had. In fact, it seemed she had done everything she could to fight those wolves. She’d even rescued Sam when he’d gone missing. Chances were that she was another victim in all this, however cold she came off as to others. So, while there was reason to maybe not trust or like her, the saner part of Brennan’s mind thought that there was no reason that she should have been the target for such violent impulses. Something foreign had burned in Brennan’s gut to have made him feel and imagine what he had. It felt like the fear he’d felt when saw the shadow claw–when it felt like something outside of himself had been projecting its own thoughts onto his mind. The rage … it was like a poison that someone else had injected him with. And that, combined with his knowledge of how such an action might hurt his friends, made him afraid of his own actions.

Was this the corruption that the Woodcutter had warned them about?

“Brennan,” Jodie said, lifting his hands in an apologetic gesture for having made Brennan jump, startled. “I’m sorry man … I know you’re thinking and probably need some time to yourself. But I kind of need your help.”

Brennan shook his head and tried to calm down a little. “Yeah, anything you need.”

“Can you give me a hand moving the … girl? It’s getting dark, and I want to get her closer to the tree before we can’t see anymore. Just in case the wolves come back.”

Brennan nodded. “Sure thing.” He joined his friend and walked to the tree to where Megan was still watching over her. Brennan could not help but wonder if there was a grain of truth in what Derrick had said about her motivations. Both about the Stockholm’s syndrome and about her sexuality. Megan had dated before, only ever guys though. Was it actually possible that … no, Brennan shook his head.

Brennan grabbed the Woodcutter’s wrists and Jodie her ankles. Even together, it took effort for them to lift her. The small girl was far heavier than she looked.

Megan moved ahead of them and cleared a spot of fruit and sticks.

“Thanks,” Jodie said, giving him a nod. His eyes looked tired, his head was down, and his shoulders were slumped. But he was there. “We’ll need to try to get more sleep if we have to make a run for it in the morning. Marshal, Sam, and Megan volunteered to take turns keeping watch.”

Brennan nodded and then walked back to where he’d fallen asleep before. He rested his head on the same root, closed his eyes, and listened to the wind softly blow. But though he tried to sleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fruit and what had happened when he’d touched it.

The Woodcutter had warned them about it being poisonous; but not that this included touching it. Maybe it was like plants those plants that were dangerous to touch. Poison ivy was one … but it didn’t cause hallucinations. There were probably plants that did though. Maybe there were gasses that came from the fruit, which filled the forest and caused hallucinations.

Either way, Brennan did not want a repeat incident of what had happened before. He didn’t want to be poisoned, he didn’t want to lose his head, and he didn’t want to hurt his friends. So, he decided to throw it away. Feeling the need to be cautious, he sat up, removed his shirt, and wrapped it around his hand. When he reached into his pocket, however, he felt his finger go through a soft spot that had formed on the fruit, like a bruise on a peach. Its juice went through the fabric of his shirt and coated his finger with the sticky purple poison.

If the sensation before was like burning, this was like his hand being dipped in napalm. And it fueled a rage inside of Brennan so that he had to clench his fists, jaws, and eyes just to keep from standing up and knocking someone to the ground. He remembered hearing a stream nearby and decided that he had to get to it and wash his hand before he hurt someone.

But Sam was in his way, walking past without his shirt on. He turned and cocked his head sideways, looking confused.

Brennan felt so much anger upon seeing that stupid expression that he forgot why he needed to stand in the first place. But it wasn’t just his expression, it was the fact he’d mentally bailed on them and been useless the entire time. That he could have helped them … and maybe saved the others. And on top of all that, he’d responded to their enemy’s help instead of from his friends’.

“Brennan?” Sam asked.

“Nice of you to finally join the rest of us. Are you finally going to stop slowing us down and getting us killed?” Brennan meant the words to be thoughts. But he quickly realized from the reactions of his friends that the words had passed from his lips—where they tasted best.

“What the hell, Brennan?” Megan asked, her jaw dropping in a look of disgust.

“Nothing, never-mind. I’m—fuck!” Brennan said, feeling the juice burn hotter and remembering why he was so angry. He quickly knelt and tried to rub the burning juices on the grass beside him, but it didn’t do much to help.

Megan knelt, looking at him carefully as if she were trying to figure him out. Then her expression softened a little, to a look of concern.

Brennan clenched his jaw, willing himself not to respond to her. But the more he held onto the words, the more they just seemed to build in his stomach, ready to flow uncontrollably like vomit. He couldn’t stop himself, he didn’t want to stop himself. He wanted the others to feel his anger, to know just how bad it hurt. He said, “David is gone, and it’s because none of us went after him. We could have saved him from that wolf, we could have at least tried. It’s what he would have done. But no … we all trusted a serial killer to make our decisions for us. That’s all we do is listen to a fucking serial killer! It’s no wonder she thinks we’re pathetic.”

“Brennan-” Megan said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Brennan shouted and slapped her hands away. “You don’t care! You’re just doing whatever you can to survive. Just like the rest of you. Just like me. Maybe we don’t deserve to live. Maybe the things fighting to kill us are right. We’re easy to corrupt. If we really believed that the lives of countless people were hinged on us dying uncorrupted, and if we weren’t cowards, we’d kill ourselves. We don’t really believe all the Woodcutter’s bullshit, it’s just easier to go along with it, isn’t it?”

His friends all turned their heads and would not meet his gaze. It made sense. After all, it was easy to believe in the Woodcutter when it meant they could just follow him blindly. When it required action on their part, it was bullshit.

“You’re right … about me, at least.” Sam said, breaking the silence. His voice sounded choked off so that he could barely get the words out. “I thought that maybe dying would be easier. But the Woodcutter stopped me. I don’t know why, but she did. So maybe the world really wouldn’t be better off with us dead. Or … maybe we’re in these woods for a reason.”

Brennan clenched his fist and said, “Well you were right to at least try.”

Megan smacked his shoulder hard enough to leave a red welt in the shape of her hand. “What is your problem? One of your best friends almost kills himself so you tell him he would have been better off! I know that David didn’t think we’d make it, but he didn’t want us to die with him. Maybe we still should have tried to save him; I don’t know. But this isn’t you!” Her words didn’t sink in at first, though.

It took Brennan a moment of scraping his fingers against the dirt for the rage to subside a bit. Then, he started to process what his sister had said. He had no right to be mad at them … and he really wasn’t. He was angry at himself. The fruit had just made it easier for him to take it out on the rest of them. “Never-mind. I was stupid. I’m … sorry.”

Megan stared for another moment, looking like she was trying to dissect him with her eyes. But his friends’ faces softened.

Sam shivered as a cold wind blew by, and then said, “It’s alright … the woods are messing with all of us. And I think something really is trying to make us something that we’re not.”

Brennan looked up and nearly replied when he was interrupted.

“Guys!” Marshal said and pointed at the ground behind them.

The Woodcutter was moving.

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