Why Not Murder

36. Recovery

36. Recovery

Dog had suffered multiple concussions. He was experiencing a persistent dream, which could be said to be a near-death experience, if a doctor had been present to take the necessary tests to determine whether he was technically alive or dead at any given moment. Maya thought he was still close to death and stayed right beside him. At times, he had seizures. He would stop breathing and his heart stop beating. Maya would push up and down quite forcefully on his chest in a rhythmic fashion and his heart would start up again. She would also put her mouth over his while closing his nose and blow air into his lungs until his breathing restarted. These incidents became fewer and farther between until they stopped altogether.

Dog's mind was very active while under the surface of consciousness. A way to drain the oil that swamped the graveyard of his ancestral community came to him and he was working very hard to revive the land. An old system of fracking fissures now out of use laced the ground underneath with pipes leading up to the surface that had been closed off. He put together a large manual pump with a flexible tube. He removed a cap and put one end of the tube down into the fracked channels; the other end he put into the oil swamp and he began pumping. He pumped the oil back underground for days and days, tirelessly, through passing seasons, until it was all gone. Rain washed the surface earth and jutting rock clean. Spring came. Birds returned and sang in love, short flowers blossomed among the sprouts of new trees. Dog lay in the sun and rested at last. That was when he came to full consciousness in Maya's arms, both of them laughing with joy. He remembered nothing of his dream when he woke.

A few days later and Dog was fully recovered mentally. He was limping but his physical strength was steadily gaining. His hair was growing in, now turned white from the previous black. Maya was going to the Laymuir residence while Dog remained at the well-stocked cabin that no other humans knew existed.

Winnie looked awful from lack of proper sleep. The doctor prescribed the most potent sleeping pills manufactured but they did not stop the nightmares. They enabled Winnie to doze during the day, but once darkness fell, the nightly terror began. The doctor was totally baffled and had no idea what to do. He suggested a hospital stay in Marhaven and extensive testing but Winnie would not agree to that. It wasn't possible then in any case because train service had been cut due to track repair which could take months to finish.

"I'm planning to start a writing career," Winnie said to Maya, "but I am too tired now. Harriet will transcribe. I've heard it can do wonders for a troubled mind. I'm willing to try anything to get rid of these nightmares. Conventional medicine isn't working."

"You have told me a bit about your nightmares," Maya said.

"Dream analysis isn't giving me any result either," Winnie replied, "According to that, I'm supposed to be the pursuer who wants to kill me as well as the me I am in the dream who is desperately escaping, so far successfully. I just don't get it. I am nearly killed and then I wake up alive, screaming. It's ruining my life. It has to end."

"May I suggest that you ask yourself this question," Maya said, "Have I ever done something I know is wrong? Don't tell anyone the answer if you don't feel like it, but answer honestly. Seek to be one hundred percent honest with yourself. Lying to others is one thing, lying to oneself is infinitely worse."

Winnie was thinking about Maya's suggestion, her eyes growing narrower as she looked at Maya. A foreboding came over Winnie, a feeling that Maya's empathy was reaching inside Winnie's mind and perhaps knew the truth of what was hidden there, a truth she could reveal to no one and refused to face within herself.

Harriet entered to take care of Winnie and Maya went down to the kitchen. Cook was kneading dough and listening to the news. Hilda was outside carrying Gwen about and pointing things out to her while she repeated the words for the things over and over. Tears were dropping from Cook's eyes into the dough. The news was about the death by fire of the terrorist ring-leader, the train accident and the increasing protests.