Through all the days that eat away at every breath that I take. Through all the nights I've lain alone in someone else's dream. Awake. The Crossing (OSIYEZA), Johnny Clegg

Prelude

Water lapping at his feet, Charlie awoke alone on the beach, cold, shuddering and naked. Mist rolled in waves, clinging to everything with its clammy, smothering embrace. He caught shadows shifting. The mist circled around a figure emerging from the sodden grip of trees lining the shore. Thunder shook overhead and lightning danced like snakes frying. He closed his eyes and it began again.

* * *

An eye opens after eons of sleep. It breathes deep. At last. I smell him.

Chapter One

“What makes you think you qualify for this job?” asked the stern-looking white man heading the hiring committee. “Well, I’m native aren’t I?” Charlie responded, smiling at him and the six other Caucasian members of the review board. He figured they felt protected behind their heavy desks, wanting him to feel exposed in the one chair centred in the large stark, empty office. He tapped his cane on the floor. “Nice.” One raised a head and stared at him. “Real wood, pine, probably eighty years old. Nice stuff.” He smiled back. The five-man, two-woman board flipped through the pages on their clipboards desperately hoping to find other applications. There weren’t any, and his didn’t take much reading. “And being a man of deep spiritual connections, I reckoned this was up my alley. If you look under ‘Hobbies’ you’ll see I love to watch baseball.” “Yes,” the same man said dryly. “Montreal Expos in particular. I do believe they no longer exist.” “Yeah, go those Blue Jays.” Charlie beamed at the man. “Been meaning to get a new cap, rather attached to this old friend though, we’ve been through a lot. Although I guess for special occasions like this I should’ve splurged, look a little more respectable. If I get a spending budget on this job, could afford a new cap.” “Ah, yes.” The man reading the resume cleared his throat. The scowl on his face showed he wasn’t much of a baseball fan or any kind of sports fan for that matter. “You also cite ‘watching documentaries’ as well as baseball. These aren’t really hobbies, Mr. ah, Stillwater.” “Charlie.” “What?” “It’s not Ah Stillwater. It’s Charlie Stillwater-S.” He smiled and leaned on his cane. “I guess you could be right. Watching the Expos was more like my passion. Got hooked on them after they were top of the standings in eighty-four and probably would have taken the World Series if it wasn’t for the strike. Eighty-four. Man, that’s been awhile. I guess it is time for a new cap, or at least get this one cleaned. As for the documentaries, I think Dr. Suzuki has for the most part got it right. Bit slow to figure things out, but the man’s on the right path. I think he’s Chinese. Oops, I mean Oriental. Don’t want to be politically incorrect these days. But I reckon he’s got some native blood in him. I like the guy, looks a lot like my uncle Ralph.” The committee flipped through their blank pages again, wishing at least one other application would materialize. They were disappointed. “It’s hard finding anyone willing to relocate to Prince Rupert to fill any position, but especially in the psychological fields,” one rather well-nourished woman whispered to the cookie-cutter figure next to her. “I remind you that the head warden has warned that if a candidate isn’t found by the end of this week, one of us will have to go in and deal with them and I for one am not walking in there with the vile creatures. The way their dirty eyes linger, undressing me.” She shivered and flushed a deep red, either embarrassed or aroused by the thought. “I wouldn’t be caught alone with any of them in a cell, probably get raped. I’ll quit if we don’t get someone.” The head interviewer looked at his papers again and back at the others. “I agree. The natives are starting to get out of hand. We’ll take on Mr. Shaman man, let him try to deal with them. Better he gets assaulted than one of us. We have our Elder, the jail keeps its licence and after the Federal inspector leaves next week, we either fire him or find another to fill in. I request we send out a new listing for the position.” The suits all nodded their agreement. He cleared his throat. “Okay, Mr. Ah, Charlie Stillwater, we’ll give you a two week trial.” “Oh good. Ends on a night of the full moon.” Charlie smiled. “I’ll be feeling a mite hairy then. Should bring my silver razor for protection.” They glared at him. “Won’t last a day,” one stern woman whispered to the colleague next to her. “Arrogant bastard, but feed him to the wolves instead of one of us. I agree.” “I’ll be surprised if he lasts two hours. But we have no choice. It’s him or one of us. We file the paperwork, get our federal funding. If he quits, well, we’ll have to hope we get a better response next time. Everyone agreed?” he whispered to the others. They nodded back. “Ahem! Be reminded Mr. Charlie Stillwater, that you’ve few credentials. No psychiatric training of any kind, not even tribal endorsements to prove that you are the shaman you claim to be. However, if you are a shaman, even self-taught, it does help you qualify for the position of Native Elder that we are seeking. You’ll really need to prove yourself though. This is no place for amateurs. We’re dealing with dangerous persons in here, killers, sociopaths, psychopaths and rapists.” “Well, I didn’t think this would be a kindergarten picnic. These folks aren’t here just because they tripped up grandma at the bus stop. I’ve got me trusty bag and this…”, he tapped the side of his head with his orca headed cane. “A full deck of marbles, that don’t rattle. Oh, I didn’t mention that I’ve watched the original Karate Kid eighteen times, got the crane kick down pat. Try me.” The overweight woman choked down her disgust. “I think some discussion should be made regarding certain standards of uniform ethics later. However you’re the best candidate so far. So, before we change our minds, we are offering you the position. Sign this agreement so we can pass our findings to the warden.” He shoved a paper towards him. Charlie leaned forward and scrawled his John Hancock. “Well, you can count on me to get the job done. I’ve always had my trusty cane and my wits. Never failed me yet. Although come to think of it I’m pretty good at outside animal management. Should have put that on my resume.” “Outside... Animal ...Management...” one of the team slowly muttered aloud, like he couldn’t believe what his ears had just received. “I’ve handled some irate squirrels in my backyard. They’ll never figure out where I’ve hidden those nuts. And a rather troublesome raccoon I named Rocky, although he tells me he likes Raymond better, raccoons are like that you know. Dealt with a pesky Raven too and he was more difficult to deal with than you could imagine but that’s a whole ‘nother story. Everything I needed to know I learned from my elders and from out there in the wilderness. Does this job include lunch and my own office?” He looked about tapping his cane on the floor. “There is a canteen here. Meals are included.” “Well, this could be an interesting two weeks and at least I’ll get some free grub. Should have brought my other jacket, it’s got bigger pocket for leftovers. Oh, and no name plaque.” “Name plaque?” “Yeah, on the door to my office. I don’t care for titles. Besides after a few days I think I should remember which office was mine.” “If you last that long Mr. Stillwater.” He retreated to the back of the room and reached for the doorknob. “And we’ll talk about a raise in two weeks. This should be my kind of job, dealing with natives, riffraff and awful canteen food. Man, I should have applied for this earlier.” He laughed. “Don’t reckon the food will be up to the organic stuff I usually eat when I’m out in the woods, but hey, its food. And free. Now that’s a bonus plan.” He tilted his button-festooned Expos cap. “So I’m off to check on the rabble. How long before I begin to build towards a pension?” The main interviewer, now almost regretting his decision, closed his eyes. “You’ve a client to deal with later this afternoon. The pension you’ll be building towards from your first paycheque. Now get to work, Mr. Stillwater. We’ll file the contract with the warden this afternoon. All the details regarding benefits, pay and holidays will be in it.” “Yes boss. And you can call me Charlie. Boss. Hmm. Never had a boss before, this could be fun. Holidays! You mean I can get time off and fly to exotic locations, like LA? Never been to Leduc, Alberta. Some distant cousins out there.” He turned and wandered off into the corridor. “One hour! I give him one hour.” “Yeah, but at least none of us have to go in there to deal with THEM.” The overweight woman grunted. “And I for one, hope he gets what he deserves.”

* * *

Charlie limped down the hall, leaning on his orca-headed cane, whistling. “Oh, I forgot to tell them I don’t do suits and ties. Although a new plaid shirt would be nice, I think I got this one in ninety-three.” He winked at one of the guards as he led a prisoner down the hall. “Great day, lovely day. Nice uniform.” The guard scowled back as the prisoner glared at Charlie. “Oh, I must admit that pin stripe does make you look rather thin.” He said to the guard as they passed. “Who the fuck is that?” the prisoner grumbled. “Don’t know and none of your damn business anyways. Get a move on.” He pushed him forward. “Charlie Stillwaters, your new Native Elder.” He whistled, again tapping the walls and floor with his cane. “Could use a bit of more cheery paint colour. Will have to suggest that to the warden. Okay, time for some lunch and then off to work. Off to work, man can’t say I’ve ever said that before.”

* * *

In the darkness I wait. Humming songs, like I always did, ever since it could remember. Waiting. Knowing they would come.

I smile and hum another song. Waiting.

* * *

Charlie grabbed his meal tray and sat down at the only empty table in the canteen. The inmates stared and snickered to each other. “Must be the hat. Obviously jealous,” he muttered as he began to dig into his soup. A large shadow blocked out the glow of florescent. “You’re at my table,” barked a heavy gruff voice. Charlie looked up and gulped. A virtual mountain of a man stood before him. Native, with greasy dark hair, deep set eyes, face contorted into a nasty grimace. Standing well over six foot, bordering on seven, and nearly four hundred pounds. Not much of which was fat, but mostly anger buried in several large chips on his shoulder. The tables held at least six, nearly every table full, except for the one that only Charlie sat at. “There’s plenty of room for two of us.” The babble of conversation ceased, spoons hung in the air. A dollop of soup echoed with a plop as everyone stopped to watch the unfolding massacre. This, Charlie knew could go well or totally sideways, like a hockey player getting slammed into the boards head down, not looking. “You . . . are . . . sitting . . . at . . . my . . . fucking . . . table,” growled the mass that made Rocky Mountains look small. Great meaty fists grated on the lunch tray. Charlie didn’t really think getting thumped on his first day would make a good impression on the others. “You’ve a licence for that hotdog stand?” Charlie waved his hand. “What?” A single fly buzzing reverberated through the canteen. Several breaths inhaled. “A hotdog stand.” The behemoth stood gritting his teeth. “What the hell you going on about?” Charlie could tell the giant’s puzzlement was winning over the rage to crush the annoying insect before him. Which he could in one swat, like a grizzly tagging a poodle. “Your fly is undone.” The man lifted his tray, looked down and blushed. A sneer cracked one side of his mouth, intimidation at its best, backed by three hundred plus pounds of muscle. He looked at Charlie and laughed. “Move the fuck over. For an old bastard, you’re alright.” He thumped the tray down, slopping some of the soup, and sat next to the suddenly relieved shaman who’d just seen his next three lifetimes sail before his eyes. After zipping his fly, he thumped Charlie on the back. Charlie gagged, nearly swallowing his back and front teeth at the same time. “Hey, you’re okay. Most people are usually scared of me.” The other inmates blinked in disbelief, looking from each other to the no longer impeding demise of the newest member of staff, thinking they’d just seen the Titanic miss the iceberg and land at New York, before returning disappointedly to their meals. “Well of course they would be. Yours are the size of a pair of grizzly bears stacked on top of each other in a totem, wearing the grimace of the bottom one suffering from fighting off the butt of the other after he ate a load of Tacos.” Charlie stuck out his tongue and squinted his eyes like he’d just smelled fresh cow patty. The big man laughed again. Puzzlement showed on the other inmates’ faces, not understanding what was going on and rather disappointed that today’s massacre had turned into a Laurel and Hardy love-in. Most had never even seen him smile let alone heard him laugh out loud, nor say more than three words in any one sitting. “Who are you?” Charlie knew humour was rare on this one’s face by the well-ingrained frown lines. “Charlie Stillwaters. Your new Prison Elder.” He stuck his hand forward after wiping it on his jean jacket. “I’m Thomas Johnson.” He shook the shaman’s hand, somewhat gently, although Charlie’s eyes opened as far as they could as the natural muscle crumpled three of his fingers into his elbow. “Wow, bet the Man of Steel would have a bitch of a time winning against you in an arm wrestle. Your real name?” “That is my real name.” “Raised in a residential school?” “Yeah! How’d you know?” “It’s my job to know,” he lied, thinking he should sound like he knew something about being a legal Prison Elder, even though he was only a half day into the job. “No, I meant the real name your parents gave you.” He frowned. “My parents died when I was very young. Don’t know my real name, or if I have one.” “Well I’m naming you with your native name. Now then, I’m thinking its T’aalgii Tilldagaaw Xuuajii, Big Mountain Grizzly.” The man ladled soup into his mouth, pausing for thought. “Big Mountain. I like that.” Charlie breathed deeply, realizing he’d just befriended undoubtedly the best, or perhaps worst, guy in the place. The one everyone else feared. “Charles Stillwater report to the warden’s office.” Spoke the disembodied voice over the PA. “Duty calls.” Charlie rose. “Didn’t like the soup anyways, too salty. I’ll have to talk to the cook about that and give them heck. I told them it’s Charlie Stillwater-S. Government never can get things right. Probably have to redo all six hundred and forty pages of the contract. Did know you they only allow me two urine breaks and nine ounces of coffee? A day? Man, might have to buy diapers to make it through.” Big Mountain laughed and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and slid Charlie’s tray towards himself. “I’ll eat the rest of your soup then, and you’re welcome at my table anytime. But don’t any of you other bastards get any ideas,” he grumbled loudly to the others. “And if you need someone to back you up in here...” he said more softly, and winked at Charlie. “Tell you what, if you want I could dig into your files and see if I could find out some background history.” “I’d like that. Told I had a sister, but never met her.” “I’ll see what I can do and no cracking any heads while I’m on shift. You wouldn’t want to make me mad, I crack a mean face.” Charlie cracked several ridiculous faces as he got up. Big Mountain snorted a load of soup out of his nose, gagging. “Quick! He’s choking! Someone get Arnold Schgartabugger to perform mouth to mouth, cause no one else is going to press lips to the Griz here and walk away without missing limbs.” The big man laughed even harder, turning puce. Charlie slapped him on the back several times until the big man spit a chunk of food out. “Hey, funny place to hide a Colt .45,” he said looking up at the approaching guards. They reached for their guns. “Oh just kidding, it’s just a chunk of hot dog, shaped like a gun.” The two guards looked at him like he was mad. Griz just wiped at the tears of laughter running down his cheeks. Walking away, Charlie realized he’d just found his first client as an Elder and his first prison friend.

* * *

I am a being, alone, entirely alone. Except there are others. I want to meet the others. I want to be me. Only who am I? I had others in my life. Older, parents. Then why am I here? Alone? And who? The question remains. Of who? Am I?

* * *

“So this is where the last Elder expired. Don’t disturb anything. They’re still not sure whether it’s a crime or an accident. Wish they’d make their minds up so we don’t have to spend shifts guarding a damn tent.” The guard indicated his work-mate whose duty today was to babysit the scene so it couldn’t be tampered with. “My turn tomorrow.” The yellow Police Line Do Not Cross tape surrounding the sweat lodge in the grounds behind the penitentiary sagged and swayed in the breeze. “Boy, you guys aren’t very sociable around here. No wonder you can’t get any help. Darn it though,” he tut-tutted as he walked around the sweat lodge, “I wanted to arrange a really swanky soiree tonight. You know, tux, champagne and horses douvres.” “It’s hors d’oeuvres, I believe,” the man grumbled, “and those are big words for a native.” “I watch a lot of educational TV. Gives you a large vocabulary. You know, documentaries, educational programs and the like. Pick up the odd phrase. I bet you like to watch tripe like all of those insipid reality shows.” “Yeah, how’d you know that?” “Just a wild guess. Rots your mind that stuff.” Charlie continued pacing around the sweat lodge trying to get a sense of what may have happened here. This was the reason he’d received some weird calls from the spirits in his dreams recently. Only why, he wasn’t sure. A death didn’t usually raise such unrest from the spirit world. He knew that no one inside would leave until the sweat was done, although on the usual sessions they often took three breaks to cool down, one for each of the four directions. Once inside, there would be very little light to see by, only the glow of the rocks, which had been burning for hours. The person leading, usually but not always the Elder himself would be moving about, flapping eagles’ feathers and other objects for effect, but how a murder could be committed with not one of the inhabitants noticing was a mystery. The guard scowled as he followed the still-pacing Charlie. “Do you have a list of the people in the group?” “I don’t, but the office does, and the police and WCB. Why are you asking? Figure one of your relatives was in on it or you decided to become the next Dick Tracy?” the guard, Jenkins grumbled, obviously put off by having to hang around while Charlie checked out the scene. “Just curious as to how someone could have died without anyone noticing. I’ll have to lead a sweat sooner or later. WCB?” “All accidents or deaths at work are treated as just ‘work related incidents’, unless foul play can be determined. If I was you, I’d hope they’d find any killer damn quick before they had to start asking for applications for my replacement.” He snickered at what he thought was a great joke. Charlie sniffed the air ignoring the guard’s threats. Death never left a pleasant aroma but a murder created a foul stench. He sniffed again, loudly. Odd, no lingering after tones. Almost as if... he sniffed again. “Hey, you got allergies, short of coke or something? There’s plenty of drugs around this place, no matter how hard we try to police the inmates.” His walkie-talkie went off. “Time to go. I’ve got duties besides babysitting you, old man.” “Some of us can sense and smell things better than most animals. Any chance you were on duty that day?” Charlie inhaled again, overly loudly. “Yeah. What’s it to ya?” “Oh, just asking.” He knew one thing, this guard was not only belligerent, but possibly capable of murder. He’d keep an eye on him. Charlie inhaled again. The wood-smoke of the sweat had covered the subtle floating aromas, but there was something underlying everything here. Something worse than menacing. The spirits were right. There was something very unnatural here. “The only animal I want to smell is frying cow, as in a burger. Now time to beat it.” “There!” he yelled. The guard jumped, “What the fuck...” Charlie stopped and moved his head side to side, sniffing loudly. It was gone. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the shadow of something moving on the edge of the forest, by the fences. “You, old man, are the freakiest bastard I ever met and I’ll tell you I’ve met quite the collection of freaks here. Now get moving. Sniffing time is over, or go join the hound dog society if that’s your bag.” Charlie moved to the doorway, careful not to disturb the tape or scene. He’d have to come back alone. There was something lurking there alright, something masking everything else under the smell of sweat and wood-smoke. Something fouler than death. The spirits usually weren’t wrong about getting him here. He glanced past the grounds to the dark edge of the forest. A branch shifted. And he’d been watched. Yup most curious. And since I can’t get into the lodge or the adjacent women’s prison, I think I need to contact someone who can. Going to need some help on this one and I know just the person that owes me a favour.

* * * The floor bed shook. From a dark cave one eye opened, then another. It looked around in the darkness before stretching slowly from the cramped form it had endured all this time. Poking its head up into the ocean’s waters, the creature took one deep sniff. The salty waters told it all it needed to know. It is time. We need to act again. It let out a high pitched squeal to the others, also long buried. The ground shook in response. But first a feeding. It has been a very long time since we’ve awoken and I’m sure the others are, like me, famished. And it knew who would do.

* * *

Charlie strode down the hall towards his office. There was something out there watching him, he knew it. As he left the washroom he turned the corner and ran into two men dressed in suits. Charlie glanced at the name tag on the one that said Warden. “Oh, the big guy, the big Cheese, el capitain, the dude who signs my paycheque.” “Who the hell are you Sir?” “Charlie Stillwaters” “Not on any payroll I know of around here.” “We hired him this morning, sir. Remember the ‘I need an Elder pronto or we lose our Federal funding for the next six months,’ speech?” “Yes, what was that got to do with this, I might say, disheveled looking, fellow?” “Your new Elder counsellor, Boss Man.” He grabbed the warden’s hand and shook it hard three times before wiping his hand on his shirt. “Crap, forgot to dry my hands after that last trip to the pisser. Actually didn’t notice any paper dispensers in the cans. But you should have someone look into those vacuum cleaner ducts they’ve installed in the washroom. Makes lots of noise, but didn’t pick much off the floor. Oh and no ties. I don’t do ties. Yours I’ll have to admit is rather smart. Solid one colour, denotes lack of character, bland in tastes and preferences, but very dapper, as they say in England. Goes well with the fancy cufflinks. Gotta run, don’t want the boss to think I’m loitering about on my first day. Need to make a good first impression and all.” With that Charlie sauntered off, limping on his cane. Still wiping his hands as he muttered more to himself than anyone else. “Glad that wasn’t a number two.” “Sorry sir, there weren’t any other applications.” The warden stood there blinking, calmly pulled a hanky from his vest pocket and wiped his damp hand. “Henricks, in my fucking office now.” Red rushing in to replace the white sheen of mortification.

* * *

In the darkness deep breathing echoed. A flipper broke the centuries old sand. We are called, the others must awake before it is too late.

* * *

Charlie limped up behind Carol as she lay sun-tanning on Agate Beach on Haida Gwaii. “Nice tan. Heard you were here on holidays.” Carol jumped. “Hate it when you do that.” Squinting, she yanked herself upright in her deckchair and peered over her dark sunglasses. “I didn’t expect to see you on the islands. Although with your woo-woo stuff I might have figured I’d run into you sooner or later.” “Good to see you too, Carol. What drags you out here?” He hadn’t seen her since they worked on solving the death of Vancouver’s mayor last year. “You hooked me. Decided I gotta see more of this place. And let me guess, I’m presuming this is probably a business call, since you’re a bit over dressed for the beach.” She looked him up and down over her sunglasses realizing it was the same getup he wore then, probably was like Einstein who kept ten same outfits of everything in his closet. No, with Charlie, probably just the same one. “Yeah, this is my office suit now.” Charlie referred to his usual get up of seen-better-days denim. “I got hired by the Federal Government to be a paid Elder for the Prince Rupert Penitentiary.” “What? Were they mad?” “No, I was the only one that applied. It seemed the other applications got lost.” Carol shook her head. “I’ve heard this story before. Lost by, let me guess, cousins of yours.” “Big family. We don’t see each other much, but we’re tight. Man, it’s hot out here. Their last Elder died, more aptly was murdered, although I think the pen don’t like that idea and are trying everything they know to get it signed off as what the WCB call ‘a work related incident’. Covers all sorts of wrongdoing that title.” “Which, unless someone finds three knives in his back or several bullet holes, it is, and the police involvement ceases.” “Got that from the no-humour jail guard and a little bird that whispered it in my ear.” “A little bird whispered in your ear? That someone was murdered? Man, you hang out with a strange crowd. But then I already know that.” “Yeah, little bird, not you-know-who-giant-raven-type-bird, built like a triple-stacked burger, but sparrow sized. One of those woo-woo things of mine that you talk about was disturbed by something that happened at the supposed accident. Whatever is happening is sending physic shockwaves through the unknown world, as you’d probably call it, and the authorities won’t let me near the scene. The disturbance happened in a native sweat lodge out on the back grounds, only some of the suspects involved are female. While I’ve got access to the men I can’t enter the women’s prison.” “They won’t let you near the scene until it is ruled either a WCB incident or the coroner warrants there’s enough evidence to open a homicide investigation.” Carol knew where this was going. “So let me guess. You want me to cut my holiday short because a sparrow whispered in your ear and go to a penitentiary full of women to investigate a murder? Many of whom would just as soon blink and either kill me for being a cop, make goggle eyes at me or just out-and-out rape me?” “Well, you’re good at summing things up. Sharp cookie, Ms. Ainsworth. You did say you owe me a favour as I did save your, what do the gangstas on TV call it? Oh yeah, your white skinny ho ass. Which by the way is starting to burn. You need some higher SPF or some of my herbal cream.” Carol reached for her pack of smokes. “I’ve tried your herbal remedies. Bear-sweat, weasel pee and oak-tree pumice. Thanks, but I’ll stick to the drugstore products. At least they have a money back guarantee.” Carol remembered the large burl along Rawlings Trail in Stanley Park that, if you caught it just right, looked like the face of an old woman. Or at least to everyone else it was a burl with an old woman’s face in it. She knew it was the living witch called the Lure trapped inside. It still gave her the creeps to think how close to death she came. She would have died if it wasn’t for Charlie, in their last and, she thought at the time, only adventure together. I’m not really thinking what I’m thinking, am I? Why didn’t I bring a flask of wine with me or at least a mickey of whiskey? “Ah what the heck. I was getting bored anyway, already hung out up at Rosespit. Wanted to chat with my mom’s spirit up there, but couldn’t hook up with her. Need to work on that woo-woo stuff of yours some more.” She paused and shook her head. “I know I’m going to regret what I’m about to say, but okay. And after this we’re even. I can’t be seen to be constantly talking to an old native man dressed forever in the same clothes. People will begin to think we’re a team, or, heaven forbid, an item.” Charlie waited for Carol as she collected her things together. A couple with kids in tow walked by, all were staring at Charlie sweating away in his jeans and jean jacket. One of the children, a rotund girl of about twelve, was eating an ice cream cone. She frowned at the older man and stuck her tongue out. “Smelly Indian.” “Rude little girl.” Charlie waved his cane and a stick that was lying in the sand lifted between the girl’s shins and sent her flying. She tripped and fell face first, mashing ice cream and sand all over her face. “Deal. We’re even after this.” Carol giggled as the girl screamed, spitting sand. “Oh dear.” Charlie walked on and said as he passed the couple, “You know its bad luck to take any agates and sand away from here, even ingested. Native legend, just like the ones in Hawaii regarding Pele’, their fire goddess. She brings bad luck to anyone that takes away her sand and agates. I’d make sure you wash her mouth out, with soap preferably. Sand isn’t good for the digestion anyways. Good day.” He smiled as he passed. The girl kept spitting sand and ice cream from her mouth. “He did it! He made me trip. Stinky old ...” Charlie gave her a nasty glare. The girl decided to shut up. “Now, you were just clumsy. I’ve told you before to watch where you’re going. He wasn’t even near you at the time,” her mother scolded. “But I know he ...” “Enough! Get in the car now!” her dad yelled, “serves you right for being rude to your elders.” “See, my work precedes me.” He walked with a swagger. Carol looked quizzically at Charlie as they walked towards her car. “Did you do something to that girl back there?” “My dad always told me to never piss off certain people in your life; your doctor, lawyer, a police officer or your shaman.” “Don’t think he said shaman, probably minister.” “You didn’t know my dad.” Carol laughed. “And now I know why you don’t cheese off shamans.” Charlie laughed back. “Come to think of it, he might have said minister.”