A Whistle on the Wind
Frank's hand trembled as he raised the whistle to his mouth. He barely felt the whistle touching his cold-numbed lips as he blew one final breath, emptying his lungs with the last of his strength.....
Frank Riscola tapped his fingers against the arm of his wheelchair as he waited for Jimmy Farley to make his move. The younger of the Farley brothers scrunched his face in concentration as he studied the pieces on the faded chessboard. Wind wisped through the drafty window frame as a flurry of newly fallen snow swirled outside.
"He's got you, Jimmy. He's got you good," Tommy Farley bobbed up and down in his wheelchair, eliciting an annoyed sideglance from his brother.
The Farley brothers were farm boys who grew up in Harlan, Iowa sowing more trouble than corn after World War Two. So George Farley did what his father did for him, took his boys to the recruiting station and enlisted them in the Marine Corps.
Two years later, the Farley brothers and the rest of the Third Battalion, Fifth Marines- the Darkhorse battalion, were in the thick of the fighting on the Korean Peninsula. Enemy machine gun fire ended Tommy's fighting days during the amphibious landing at Inchon. During the Battle of Chosin Reservoir, Jimmy found himself on the wrong end of a Chinese hand grenade two months later. The next time the brothers would see each other was at the Walter Reed General Hospital in Maryland, each missing their right leg.
The loss of a limb did nothing to staunch the brothers' penchant for causing mischief, and they spent the better part of the next three decades in and out of trouble. Their younger sister eventually determined that the Shady Pines Rest Home in Kestrel Falls, Washington, was the safest place to stash her troublesome brothers for the remainder of their days.
"You got me again, Commander," Jimmy ran his fingers through his gray-blonde hair and leaned back in his wheelchair with a sigh of resignation.
"I always get you with the knight," Frank smiled good-naturedly. The residents of Shady Pines liked calling him by his old Navy rank as a term of endearment, though it had been almost forty years since he had served. He had been a Lieutenant Commander aboard the escort carrier USS Kalinin Bay during the Battle of Samar in the Pacific when he caught a back full of shrapnel from a Japanese high explosive round. The injury had left him paralyzed from the waist down but had led to the greatest joy of his life. While he convalesced in the hospital, he met a young nurse, Anna Finley, who grew into the love of his life. Anna's first husband had died in the Battle of Kasserine Pass, leaving her with a young son, Robert. Although they would spend their lives together, for reasons all her own, she always refused Frank's offers of marriage. His eyes wandered over to where she sat on the threadbare couch, watching President Reagan address a press conference. He smiled at the way her dark hair, streaked with gray, draped over the faded and yellowed upholstery. Frank felt a pang of sadness as he watched her; Alzheimer's had robbed her of a lifetime of happy memories, and there were days when she failed to remember even him. Robert had decided to send her to Shady Pines rather than pay for more expensive care, and Frank had arranged to accompany her at his own expense.
Frank could see her gentle nod as the obese woman in the flaming red wig chatted amicably with her and gestured animatedly toward the image of President Reagan on the screen.
"What's up, my Shady ladies?" Cookie Jones smiled broadly as he gingerly walked into the recreation room, his cane quietly thumping the floor with each step.
Titus "Cookie" Jones had been a bear of a man in his youth and, like the Commander, had served in the Navy during World War Two. With limited positions open to African Americans in the Navy, Jones became a cook on a destroyer in the Atlantic fighting Nazi U-boats. A man who always loved his food, Jones took great joy in cooking for the men on the ship. Next to his wife, Glenda, cooking was the great joy of his life. He spent the post-war years working in a Seattle dinner until cancer took his first love, and rheumatoid arthritis robbed him of his other. His children had been quick to send him off to Shady Pines while they helped themselves to his life savings.
"I was just telling dear Anna about how I met Ronnie Reagan when we were filming Dark Victory in thirty-nine," Rita ran a finger through the bright red locks of her wig. "He was quite the charmer, and I was a real fox in those days."
"Rita, you are still a fox!" Cookie gave her a broad grin and wink, then turned to the frail older woman reading a book by the window. "How are you doing today, songbird?"
The woman lowered the book and returned a dreamy smile. "The Hobbit is such a lovely tale," Lynnette rasped in a cancer-ravaged voice that had once been the rave of the Vegas strip in her younger days.
The room grew suddenly silent as a heavyset man in blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt with short-cropped dark hair led an elderly Chinese woman into the room by her elbow. The smile faded from Cookie's face, and the women averted their eyes from the man. Tommy Farley placed a finger horizontally under his nose, mimicking the World War Two-era gesture mocking Adolf Hitler, which caused his brother to stifle a chortle.
The man roughly shoved the elderly woman into the room, causing her to stumble and nearly fall.
"But why can't I call my daughter?" the woman's voice was plaintive, and tears brimmed in her eyes.
"The phone is for staff only," the man pointed his finger into her face, then glared around the room. "That goes for all of you. Stay out of my office."
"Tam," Rita beckoned to the woman in a low tone. "Come sit with us and watch a bit of television."
Frank felt his spine stiffen with anger as he glared at the man. James and June Andersen were the owners, sole proprietors, and staff of Shady Pine. Their brochure described them as a "selfless couple, committed to seeing your loved ones cared for like family in the twilight of their lives." Frank thought that therein lay the problem; the Andersens treated the eight residents of Shady Pines precisely the way their unsympathetic and greedy family members had. However, he also strongly suspected the Andersens had a unique business relationship with the family members that placed their "loved ones" in the rest home, likely involving kickbacks of the Social Security and Medicare payments made to the home on the residents' behalf. The fact that the Andersens moved from New York to set up their facility in Washington, one of the few states where Medicaid directly covers the cost of assisted living facilities, further fueled his suspicions.
In the two years that Frank and Anna had resided at Shady Pines, he had seen the couple show the residents nothing but disdain and scorn for the elders in their care. The Farley brothers secretly called the Andersens "Adolf" and "Eva" after the reviled dictator and his longtime companion, and it quickly became the residents' inside joke. James was the brutish sort that reveled in bullying people and demeaning others. However, June Andersen took a feral glee in cruelty. Where her husband relied upon his imposing form, she eviscerated the residents with words and petty meanness. Over the years, several residents had found items mysteriously missing from their rooms. Frank suspected the more valuable trinkets and jewelry had slipped into James' pockets. Still, he was sure that the missing items of a more personal nature, like cherished photographs and keepsakes, were June's doing, taken strictly to cause emotional anguish for her enjoyment.
"Why don't you leave her alone," Frank's voice cut through the hushed silence in the room. He saw Anna's eyes look at him fearfully as James Andersen turned his gaze on the elderly Sailor.
"Whaaaat," Andersen pushed passed Tam and stalked angrily to loom over John's wheelchair. "What did I hear dribble out of your geriatric mouth?"
Spit flew from the man's mouth as he spoke, and Frank stared back with a steely gaze. Behind the imposing figure of James Andersen, Frank saw Cookie adjust his grip on his cane as if preparing to strike the man if things got violent. The old cook's bravery warmed Frank's heart.
"She's already upset. Let her be," Frank let the coldness creep into his voice as he stared up at the man.
"I am doing her a kindness," a sneer crossed Andersen's broad, flat face, and his beady eyes flared dangerously. "Just imagine how upset she would be if I let her call her precious daughter, and she told good ole mum to go to hell. Like she would; nobody wants to talk to her."
Andersen eyed them all, "nobody wants to speak to any of you. So eat your meals, watch your tv, and wait for Jack Death to come knocking. Don't worry; you lot won't have to wait very long."
Lynette sobbed quietly in her chair, and the others looked down as Andersen gazed menacingly at each of them in turn before leaning close to Frank.
"You watch your step, Commander," Anderson spoke the last word mockingly. "An old man like you could get sick or fall. Then who would take care of your Anna?"
Frank's body trembled with anger and frustration as Andersen stood straight. He looked at Frank one last time and snorted derisively, then swatted the faded chessboard with his hand, sending the cheap plastic game pieces clattering to the floor.
Andersen puffed out his chest proudly as he stomped out of the room. Behind him, the Farley brothers raised their middle fingers and flipped him the bird in perfect unison.
"Frank, you've dropped your chess pieces," Anna stared at him from the couch with slightly vacant eyes.
Frank smiled back at her, her aged face just as beautiful to him as the day he met her in the hospital. He was thankful that her mind had slipped to that place it sometimes goes during the altercation with Andersen; such an outburst would usually frighten and confuse her. "I know, dear, you know I can be quite clumsy sometimes."
"That was such a wonderful day, wasn't it, Frankie?" Anna touched the small stones she had poured out onto their bed.
"Yes, it was my love," he smiled at her, and she beamed back in return.
She sat cross-legged on their bed and smiled at the small stones splayed across the blue covers. The stones were round fingernail-sized rocks with swirls of minerals and sediments layered through them. They had gathered them on a weekend getaway to Ruby Beach on the Olympic Peninsula; they were her most prized possession. The stones were the only thing that consistently cut through the fog that enshrouded her memories and brought her back to herself.
"It was the most beautiful sunset in the world," she lovingly picked up one of the stones and rolled it in her hand.
"You were the most beautiful part of that beach," Frank patted her on the leg.
"Oh, Frankie," Anna giggled like a schoolgirl. "You're making me blush."
Frank took the picture off of the dresser and handed it to her. She took the tarnished silver frame in her hand and looked down at the young woman with her long dark hair and radiant smile standing alongside a handsome, grinning man in a wheelchair. Behind them, the sunset was golden on the horizon as waves crashed upon the white beach. A rock outcropping was silhouetted dark against the setting sun, and flocks of tufted puffins returned to their nightly roosts.
"You look so dashing, Frankie," Anna touched an aged finger to the man's face in the picture.
He turned to glance at himself in the mirror. His dark hair had faded to a pure white and was longer than he wore in those days. These days he had only the silenced singer, Lorraine, to cut his hair when he felt it growing over his ears or down the collar of his shirt. His dark blue eyes had paled over the years, and his face was now deeply lined with age.
A knock at the door snapped him out of his walk down memory lane, and he turned to see Cookie and Rita standing in the doorway.
"Sorry to disturb you kids," Cookie grinned and leaned heavily on his cane.
"The girls were just going to get together and brush each other's hair," Rita ran a finger through the hair of her long red wig. The former starlet had gained considerable weight in her elder years, and Frank thought she showed advanced signs of diabetes. She smiled excitedly at Anna; her bright red lipstick gleamed amid the excessive amounts of makeup she used to hide the ravages of time. "We have to look good for all the eligible bachelors around here."
She gave Cookie a sly look, and he chuckled as he leaned against the wall. "Pretty lady, my Gilda was my one and only."
"Anna, would you like to join us for some hair brushing?" Rita reached out her arm, and Anna's eyes lit up. She looked back at Frank questioningly, and he smiled.
"Go on, enjoy your time with the girls," Frank smiled back at her and helped her place the little stones back in her sage and pink crotched pouch. When the last stone was safely back in the bag, she pulled the drawstrings tight and clutched it close to her chest.
"I'll be back soon, Frankie. Try not to get in any trouble," Anna leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He thought the smile on her face melted away a decade of aging as she grabbed Rita's hand and disappeared out the door.
"Fine woman you have there, Commander. She seems like she's having a good day," Cookie smiled warmly, but a look in his eye made Frank think that his friend was thinking back on his departed love.
"It's one of her better days," Frank nodded. "Thankfully."
"That was some ugly business with Adolf this morning," Cookie's face took on a grim look. "In my younger days, I would have given that man a bear hug until he filled his trousers with breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
"I saw you were readying that cane for action," Frank pointed at the old worn wooden cane. "I appreciate that, Cook."
"I'd never abandon a shipmate," Cookie nodded to the old wooden chair in the corner of the room. "Mind if I sit?"
"Of course, Cook, take a load off. What's on your mind?"
"Honey," Cookie lowered himself into the chair and sighed deeply.
"Pardon?" Frank gave his friend an amused look.
"I miss real food. I'm sick of these microwaveable tv dinners Adolf and Eva feed us," Cookie shook his head regretfully. 'But most of all, I miss honey, nothing like fresh honey."
"What's troubling you, Cook?" Frank studied his friend as he wheeled his chair closer.
"The way things are going here," a deep frown creased the retired cook's dark skin. "It's never been nice here. The food has always been terrible, and Adolf and Eva only care about that Medcaid check that comes every month. At least the eight of us have each other, and that's pretty good."
"But?" Frank eyed his friend.
"But what happens when one of us gets sick or sicker? I don't know if you noticed, but Rita's vision has been wonky; I think it's her diabetes getting worse. And what if Lorraine's cancer comes back or Anna gets worse."
"When Anna gets worse, you mean," Frank bit his lip to hold back the emotion.
"When Anna gets worse," Cookie nodded grimly.
"What are you proposing, Cookie?" Frank leaned back in his wheelchair and let out a deep breath.
"Look, Commander, you, me, and the Farleys are veterans; maybe the VA could help us. Get us out of here," Cookie leaned in conspiratorially.
"Maybe, if we could get a call or letter out," Frank shook his head. "But what about Rita, Tam, and Lorraine? Just leave them behind, even if we could get out of here?"
"Well, maybe we…." Cookie was cut off by Tommy Farley frantically rolling up to the door.
"Commander, come quickly," the younger man's face was red from exertion, and he was breathing hard. "In the rec room, Eva is giving Anna the business. Trying to take her little pouch away."
"Oh no," Frank groaned as he spun his wheelchair towards the door and began rolling down the hall to the recreation room.
Dustballs swirled with his passing, and the dim fluorescent light buzzed overheard as Frank raced his wheelchair toward the recreation room. He could hear Tommy's chair following behind him, and the distant thud of Cookie's cane as the retired cook made his way after them.
Frank heard the shouting before he entered the recreational room, and his heart raced with fear and anger.
"Give it to me right now," June Andersen's stern shrill voice echoed through the dingy recreation room.
"No, nooooooo," Frank heard Anna's wailing response.
"Commander, Adolf and Eva are thumpin' on Anna," Jimmy Farley pointed at the far corner as Frank rolled into the room.
Frank saw Tam and Lorraine huddled by the far window, clutching each other as they watched the events unfold.
"Please stop; you're upsetting her," tears streaked down Rita's cheeks, sending rivulets of mascara running over her overly blushed cheeks.
Anna stood hunched over in the corner, clutching her crotched bag to her chest as James Andersen tried to pry it loose from her fingers. The pinch-faced June Andersen stood with her arms crossed before the struggling pair, a deep frown darkening her dower expression. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, coupled with her close-set eyes, which gave her a hawkish appearance.
"What is going on here?" Frank's voice came out as more of a roar than a shout.
June jumped at the unexpected protestation and then walked rigidly over to Frank's wheelchair. James had stopped trying to rest the pouch from Anna, who sobbed uncontrollably, but he still gripped her arms tightly.
"Your wife has a dangerous object that must be confiscated," June's voice was cold and authoritative.
"Oh please," Frank raised his arms in exasperation. "She has some small stones; they bring her comfort."
"A woman in her condition could easily mistake them for candy and choke," She sniffed the air pretentiously. "I will not be responsible for a death in my facility."
"Leave her be," Frank's tone was low and menacing as his anger rose.
"The rules state no dangerous objects. And I deem those rocks a danger to her safety."
"Like the watch?" Frank gave her a steely gaze.
"Excuse me?" June's face registered genuine confusion.
"Did you deem Cookie's gold watch a danger? Is that why it disappeared from his room?" Frank leaned forward in his chair. "Is that why it's on your husband's wrist…right now?"
Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and she looked withering at her husband. Like everyone in the room, June's eyes fell upon the glinting gold watch on his wrist.
"That is my watch for sure," a breathless Cookie nodded from the doorway.
June's eyes bore into her husband's face, and Frank saw the man shrug apologetically. However, when she turned back to look at Frank, her icy veneer was back in place. She looked at him, appraising him with calculating eyes, and then sniffed derisively.
"James, confiscate the pouch," her eyes never left Frank's face as she gave the order.
Anna wailed as James renewed, tugging at her hands, and Frank felt his rage boil over. He rolled his wheelchair forward, striking June's leg and sending her sprawling with a sharp cry. With all the might he could muster in his aged arms, he propelled his wheelchair forward as fast as he could. The struggling forms of James and Anna loomed in front of him as he rolled on faster and faster across the room.
"Go get him, Commander," Frank heard one of the Farley brothers shout behind him, and he heard Rita gasp as he raced by.
He crashed into James Andersen with enough force to cause the man to tumble to the floor with a shout of pain. The force of the impact caused his chair to rock so violently that he nearly flew from the seat as Anna curled into a sobbing ball on the floor.
"James stop," June's voice was loud and shrill as James got to his feet. The big man limped toward Frank, his face a mask of fury as he raised his hand to strike the older man.
"He damn near broke my leg," James looked from his wife to Frank, his arm still poised to strike.
"I will handle this," June's eyes flared angrily as a thin trickle of blood dotted her forehead. She turned on Frank with an accusatory finger. "Mr. Riscola, you have assaulted two members of the staff. I am expelling you from Shady Pines. James, escort Mr. Riscola out of the facility immediately."
"Yes, Mrs. Andersen," James gave a feral smile of delight. "I will be happy to."
"You can't do this," Rita looked horrified.
"I just did," June stared at Frank coldly, and he just looked at her in disbelief.
"It's the middle of winter," Cookie protested from the doorway. "It's freezing outside."
"Mr. Riscola is a hazard to the residents and staff," June smiled wickedly. "He must be removed immediately."
James grabbed the handles at the back of Frank's wheelchair and began to push him toward the door. Frank grasped at the wheels trying to halt their progression, too stunned to speak.
"You put your fingers on those wheels, and I will snap them like twigs," James leaned down and whispered menacingly.
Frank put his hands in his lap as James wheeled him through the room. The Farley brothers looked down at their feet as he rolled past, and the women sobbed quietly. In front of him, Cookie stood in the doorway and raised his cane, a look of grim determination on his face. Frank looked at his friend and shook his head; the old cook lowered the cane and slumped defeatedly in the doorway.
"Watch after her, Cookie," Frank looked into his friend's eyes as he rolled past.
"I will, Commander," Cookie's voice cracked with emotion.
To Frank, the dim corridor to the building entrance looked like the last walk on death row. Behind him, he heard a small voice call, "Frankie?" The voice rose in pitch and desperation.
"Frankieeeeeee."
Frank's wheelchair crunched through the snow as James rolled him down the driveway. He shuddered against the cold and wrapped his arms around himself as the cold winter air blew through his thin shirt.
"Where are you taking me?" Frank stared down the empty road. "I'll die out here without a jacket."
"Then you'll die out here," James' voice had malicious glee.
They turned as they passed the old shed beside the driveway, and James rolled the wheelchair beside it, out of sight of the house.
"There you go," James locked the brake in place and snapped the lever off with a grunt of exertion.
"You're just going to leave me out here?" Frank hated the incredulous sound of his voice, and James just shrugged.
The man turned to leave and then turned back to Frank. With a sudden movement, James swung his arm and punched Frank hard in the gut. Frank felt the air whoosh out of his lungs, and he doubled over in pain.
"That's for the bump in the leg," James laughed loudly as he followed his footprints back to the house.
When Frank finally caught his breath, he had to fight the momentary panic at his situation before thoroughly assessing things. He inspected the brake, which James had irreparably locked into place. Even had he gotten it free, where would he go? There was not another house in sight, and he would not last much longer in this cold.
He could try crawling into the shed if it was unlocked, but he doubted that would provide much relief from the elements. No, unless the Andersens came to retrieve him, this is where he would die, slowly freezing to death in the night. His mind drifted to thoughts of Anna. They had not spent a night apart in decades, and she was surely frightened and confused by his absence. His disappearance would be harrowing for her, but at least she had Cookie and the others to help her.
A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he smiled as he slipped his hand deep into his pants pocket, withdrawing a thin copper tube with a spherical end, his bosun's whistle. He had long ago lost the chain that attached to it, but he still carried the tarnished copper whistle. His mother gave it to him as a gift when he first joined the Navy, and he brought it as a good luck charm. When Anna first began to show signs of Alzheimer's, he would use it to let her know where he was in the house or the yard.
In the age of sailing ships, the whistles were designed to be heard over the sound of the sea and wind for passing orders between vessels. As he brought the old whistle to his lips, he hoped that maybe the sound of the whistle would reach her in the house, and she would know that he was still here. Frank imagined her hearing the sound and feeling comfort. He would blow the whistle until the cold took him, sending her comfort with his last breaths of life.
As the sun set over the horizon, Frank Riscola began to blow his whistle.
The moon was high in the night sky as Frank tried to blink away the ice that formed on his eyelashes. He was unsure how long he had been sitting out there; for a while, he had seen the light from Shady Pines' windows shining onto the snow and hoped someone would come and retrieve him, even if it was James Andersen coming to get him after teaching him his lesson. But the lights in the house had dark, as did his hopes of rescue. Frank had stopped shivering and feeling the cold; he knew that was a bad sign. His old body had given up fighting, slowly slipping into freezing oblivion.
He pictured Anna curled in their bed, listening to the mournful sound of his bosun's whistle and taking comfort knowing he was still nearby. She would likely be asleep now, but he tried to muster the strength to blow the whistle one last time, to send Anna his love and tell her goodbye in the only way that remained to him now.
Frank's hand trembled as he raised the whistle to his mouth. He barely felt the whistle touching his cold-numbed lips as he blew one final breath, emptying his lungs with the last of his strength. He hoped Anna heard it. Had the wetness of his eyes been not so close to freezing, he would have shed a tear as his hand fell into his lap, clutching the bosun's whistle.
He labored to breathe and keep his eyes open as darkness began to take him.
Then he heard a whistle on the wind, echoing his bosun's call. Frank dismissed it as a trick of his dying mind; then he heard it again, mimicking his whistle. The whistle called out a third time, closer than the last.
Frank struggled to raise his head and squinted against the darkness. A figure appeared to be walking out down the road in his direction.
Refusing to succumb when potential rescue was so close, Frank willed his hand to his mouth, hunching to meet it halfway, and blew his bosun's whistle.
The mysterious figure whistled in return and now seemed to be walking directly toward him. Frank pictured the mysterious stranger, horrified at the old man's condition, whisking him away to warmth and safety. Then the bright red and blue flashing lights of police cars as they raced down the road to arrest the Andersens and reunite him with his Anna. Someone could make a tv movie about what happened here. Frank was unaware his eyes had slipped closed until the stranger gently shook him.
"Hey, wake up now," the man's voice was deep and calming.
Frank struggled to open his eyes, and when he did, he stared down at two moose-like hooves with long dew claws standing before him. His eyes followed the long, powerful brown fur legs upward until they disappeared into a dark green cloak. A smiling face, broad and pleasant, with a long brown beard stared at him.
"I heard your whistle on the wind," the hooded man dipped his head in greeting. "It woke me up from a long slumber."
"I am sorry for waking you," was all Frank's nearly frozen mind could muster.
The man laughed heartily and extended his hand to Frank, "Nonsense, I have been asleep too long! Come, let's go inside and get you warmed up."
"I...I can't," Frank gestured to the wheelchair. "My chair is broken."
"Well then, we'll just have to walk," the man continued to extend his large thick, fingered hand.
Frank was too weak from the cold to protest and placed his pale, frail hand in the man's larger hand; as soon as his fingertips touched the rough skin of the man's palm, a warmth radiated through his body, chasing away the winter cold. Frank looked with shock as he felt sensation run down his legs and into his toes.
"Is everything ok?" the man looked at Frank with a mixture of mirth and curiosity.
"I can wiggle my toes," Frank looked incredulously at the man. "I can feel them wiggling."
"Better than feeling worms in your shoes," the man winked.
"Who are you?" Frank stared at the man in wonder.
The man contemplated the question momentarily, "I am known by many names in the forest; you can call me Karnon."
"I...I'm Frank. Frank Riscola," Frank grasped the man's hand and shook it in greeting.
"It is good to meet you, Frank Frank Riscola," Karnon smiled.
"It's just Frank," he chuckled and gingerly slipped a foot from his wheelchair. Shaking his head in amazement, for the first time in almost fifty years, Frank Riscola stood up on legs as strong as they had felt when he was twenty-five. Even the air around him felt more like a Spring morning than a blustery cold winter night.
"Are you cold, Frank?" Karnon slid down his hood to reveal small deer-like antlers protruding from his thick brown hair. "It's still a bit of a walk to the house. Would you like to wear my cloak?"
Frank gaped at the antlers for a moment but then quickly recovered. "If we go inside, you might want to keep those covered. You know, at first, at least."
"Oh, these," Karnon chuckled and touched his finger to the tip of one small antler. "They usually are much more impressive, but I seemed to have shed them why I slept. I'm happy to see they are growing back!"
"Were you hibernating...like a bear?" Frank smiled as he took a sure-footed step in the snow.
Karnon nodded as he contemplated the question, "It is a rather long story, but the important thing is that your whistle woke me up, Frank. For that, I am very grateful."
They started walking toward the front door of Shady Pines, Karnon's hoof-like prints sinking into the snow beside Frank's footprints.
Frank was surprised the door was unlocked when Karnon easily turned the knob and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Then again, with everything he had experienced over the past few minutes, Frank doubted a lock would have provided much of a hindrance for this mysterious denizen of the forest.
The entry room was dark and quiet as they stepped in. Karnon's hooves echoed with every step on the hardwood floor. His antlered head turned as he surveyed the dated decor and the hanging framed pictures of smiling elderly couples, which Frank was increasingly convinced came with the picture frames from the local Kmart. The forest creature walked over to the reception desk, and Frank saw a frown crease Karnon's face as he flipped through the empty pages of the guest registry. He then picked up the Bic pen from the counter and signed a large "K" on one of the blank pages. Frank was surprised to see how elegant Karnon's script was, with crisp lines and swirls at the top and bottom of the letter.
"Frank," Karnon turned to look curiously at him. "Do you still have your whistle?"
"My whistle?" The question caught him completely by surprise. "Yes, right here." Frank produced it from his front pocket.
"Do you mind if I borrow it?"
"No, of course not," Frank held his hand out as Karnon picked it up and studied it.
"It produces such a beautiful sound," Karnon appraised it appreciatively, then smiled at Frank. "Let's go meet your friends."
Frank led the way to the dimly lit corridor that housed the residents and flipped the light switch for the three additional sets of fluorescent lights. The lights flickered to life, bathing the hall in bright artificial lights. Frank felt anxious to wake Anna and tell her he was alright, but Karnon lightly touched his arm to wait as he brought the whistle to his lips. The bosun's whistle sounded its rhythmic call, and Frank inexplicably felt his anxiety melt away.
Karnon blew the whistle a second time before the residents of Shady Pines emerged sleepily from their rooms. Wrapped in bathrobes and shuffling with slippered feet, they stepped out into the corridor, blinking eyes unaccustomed to the suddenly bright light.
"Commander?" Cookie's eyes shot up in surprise at the unexpected sight of his friend, and he stared incredulously at Frank's legs.
The Farley brothers rolled out of their rooms, hair askew like aged porcupines; however, Frank noticed Rita took the time to don her red wig. Lorraine smiled wondrously at Karnon and reverently touched his arm with tentative fingers as she eyed his antlers.
"I know you," she breathed with amazement.
Karnon looked as surprised as Frank. "You know Karnon?" Frank could not hide the shock in his voice.
"My grandmother told me stories about you that her grandmother told her," She looked from his antlers to his moose-like legs and hooves. "She called you by a different name, but she said you were the friend of the forest."
"I go by many names," Karnon smiled kindly at Lorraine. "But it does my heart good to see I have not been forgotten all these years."
"Frankie!" Anna's voice held child-like glee as she rushed from her room and threw her arms around him, kissing his cheek repeatedly. "And your legs! Frank, you're standing!"
"Good as new," Frank grinned broadly and moved his legs in a little jig.
"Did he do this?" Cookie looked incredulously from Frank's legs to Karnon, who winked back at the elderly cook.
"What the holy hell is going on here," James Andersen's voice boomed down the corridor as he and June angrily stomped toward the gathered residents and Karnon. Both wore grey sweatshirts and blue sweatpants emblazed with the letters "NYU." James stopped short and gaped when Frank turned to face him.
"How the hell," James looked Frank up and down, then followed June's eyes to Karnon.
"And who the hell are you?" June's eyes narrowed as she looked at the stranger
Karnon held up an oversized hand to silence them, and they both stopped talking, though their eyes trailed from his antlers to his hooves in disbelief.
"In the forest, the trees form a community," Karnon looked at the residents with kind, dark eyes. "They share nutrients with needy trees, nurture saplings, and even share knowledge of combating disease and parasites. The older the tree, the more revered it is within the forest."
Frank felt Anna's hand slip into his own as they listened to Karnon's deep, calm voice. He could see the eyes of the residents staring in rapt attention, devoid of any fear or misgivings, as the Karnon spoke.
"You are like the ancient oaks and pines in the woods," Karnon's hands swept over the residents, then came to point at the Andersens. "But you are like parasites. You use your youth and vitality to cow and take from those you should revere."
The Andersens looked at each other and then Karnon, opening and closing their mouths as if to speak as he raised the bosun's whistle to his lips. The whistle blew a long mournful tune through the narrow hallway.
The Andersen's eyes opened wide as the whistle sounded, then before the eyes of the assembled residents, the Andersens began to age. James' hair lightened to a pale white and receded to stringy strands across his head. The man's eyes clouded, and his frame went from robust to frail as his skin saged and wrinkled until his clothes hung baggy on his drooped shoulders.
June gasped as her hair turned a dull silver, and the skin on her face and hands became deeply lined with heavy lids and sagging jowls. The Andersens stared at each other in disbelief with cataract-clouded eyes as they struggled to comprehend what had just happened, a mewing noise escaping June's lined lips.
"If you made them old, can you make us young again?" Rita's face held a look of such heartbreaking hope that Frank could almost weep.
"I'm afraid I do not have the power to do that," Karnon smiled kindly at them. "But I can offer you perhaps something better."
The Farley brothers looked at each other and then turned to Karnon before replying in unison, "we'll take it."
"Hold on now," Cookie leaned heavily on his cane and eyed Karnon suspiciously. "We've lived long enough to know 'something better' means different things to different people. No offense intended."
"None was taken," Karnon chuckled. "And a very fair point! As the young lady said, I was once known as a friend of the forest."
Lorraine smiled and blushed at his compliment.
"Before my long slumber, there were forest creatures who were special to me. They lived long lives, much longer than any creature in the woods, and they helped me maintain and protect the forest."
"Do you mean like spies?" Tommy Farley squinted suspiciously.
"Sounds like a king and his court," Tam folded her arms across her chest.
"You would be more like helpers for the good of all the forest," Karnon looked from face to face.
"Have you all gone batty? This man is offering you something better than what we have now, whatever it is," Cookie turned to Karnon. "Sir, I will take you up on your offer."
"Me too," Lorraine's eyes blazed excitedly, and her rasping voice came from between teeth grinning in a smile that touched her eyes.
"Very well," Karnon smiled and nodded to them both. "If you would please return to your rooms."
"Lorraine, are you sure?" Rita wrung her hands nervously but smiled when her friend nodded enthusiastically.
"Commander," Cookie flashed Frank a smile and a quick salute. "I'll see you on the flip side."
Frank nodded to his friend and watched the two residents shuffle back to their rooms before turning to Karnon. "Why do they have to return to their rooms?"
"I like a grand entrance," Karnon winked at Frank as he brought the bosun's whistle to his lips.
The residents looked uncertainly at each other as the whistle sounded through the hall. Anna flashed Frank a nervous smile and squeezed his hand tightly.
"What's different?" Jimmy Farley shrugged and looked at his brother when Karnon lowered the whistle.
Rita gasped loudly, and everyone turned to her before following her gaze toward Cookie's room. A large black bear slowly ambled out of the room and sat down on its haunches to stare at the assembled residents. Frank let go of Anna's hand and slowly walked toward the bear, seeing a familiar look in the creature's eyes.
"Cookie?" Frank reached out and touched the thick dark fur of the bear's shoulder, and he could have sworn the bear smiled in return. He looked back at Karnon, who smiled and nodded.
"Cookie, I believe there is a beehive filled with honey in that big pine out front of the house," Karnon grinned at the bear. "Don't worry; your friends will be along shortly."
The bear grunted happily and turned to lope quickly down the hall. Frank shook his head in amazement as he watched the lumbering form of the bear disappear out the front door.
"Well, hello, Songbird," Karnon held out his hand, and a yellow and brown bird flitted out of Lorraine's room to land on his finger. The bird happily warbled and twittered as it hopped up his arm to sit on his shoulder.
"Lorraine!" Rita stared at the little yellow bird, who stared back at her with bright black eyes. Joyful tears filled Rita's eyes as she turned to Karnon, "I'm ready, Mr. Karnon."
Rita smiled and squeezed Anna's shoulder as she walked by and hugged Tam before flashing a big smile to everyone as she entered her room.
The Farley brother whooped and hollered excitedly as they rolled their wheelchairs into their rooms. Even the ordinarily stoic Tam smiled as she walked to her room.
"Frankie?" Anna looked at him expectantly.
"Go on, I'll be right there," Frank smiled and nodded for her to go.
She gave him a nervous smile and then skipped into their room. Frank smiled as he watched her, and Karnon chuckled at her youthful exuberance.
"What about you, Frank?" Karnon cocked his head curiously.
"I like to make a grand exit," Frank winked, and Karnon laughed heartily. "Why have you done this for us?"
"Because you all deserve it," Karnon grinned, and Frank nodded.
He walked to his room, glancing at the wisened figures of the Andersens standing sullen and wraith-like in the hall.
"Karnon," Frank turned back to the strange forest creature, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You can keep the whistle."
"Thanks, Frank," Karnon smiled and looked at the tarnished whistle. "I will take good care of it."
When Frank disappeared into his room, Karnon looked wistfully at the Andersens and shook his head sadly. Raising the whistle to his lips, he blew a long, cheerful note that Lorraine mimicked in happy chirps from her perch on his shoulder.
A happy chittering noise filled the hallway as a raccoon scampered out of the Farley's rooms. The two raccoons ran to each other, playfully grappling with each other in a ball of fur and paws before running past a laughing Karnon.
A sleek grey wolf patted out of Tam's room and stopped to snap at the air beside the Andersens, making them shrink back in terror. With eyes blazing with delight, Tam spread her long legs and ran down the hall howling with delight at her newfound form and vigor.
A sleek red fox walked coyly out of Rita's room, purring with delight as it circled Karnon's hooves.
Karnon knelt to pet the fox between the ears until Lorraine's happy warbling drew his attention to Frank's room. Two deer strode out the door, side by side; a fallow doe with a dark brown coat with white spots and dark eyes clear of the haze of illness that plagued her for so many years. Beside her strode a majestic buck with an impressive five-pointed rack of antlers. The two deers nuzzled each other lovingly as they stepped into the corridor.
"I have some catching up to do, Frank," Karnon tapped the tips of his short antlers and laughed.
The Andersens stood quietly in the hallway where they had once roamed as unchecked tormentors and watched the strange antlered man, his hooves clopping against the floor, walk out the door with the menagerie of animals. The man's whistle echoed on the wind as they disappeared into the night