Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

Pete told me about it. Torstein had asked him, Jack and Jazz to meet him early one morning, and they drove toward the coast — but not toward the shore where we’d gone, and not toward the docks where Jack and Jazz’s father had his boat moored, but toward the mountains in the north that looked out on the water. This was a very prestigious area — the homes were built into the mountainsides, perched up there like aeries, looking out at the endless ocean.

They’d come to a big gate that opened onto a winding private drive, then Torstein had made them leave the car at a turn-off and go ahead on foot. The way wound through a thick pine forest. It was still early morning, and fog had rolled in the night before, so they could only see so far ahead of them as they went, they were sort of isolated in this blanket of mist and shadow, surrounded by these thick trees.

The birds were just waking up and starting to chirp, otherwise it was very still, and a little cool. “So this is your dad’s place?” Pete asked, more to hear himself speak than for any other reason.

Torstein nodded, but he didn’t speak, and everyone fell silent again.

Then, suddenly, they broke out of the fog, and they were on a huge, green lawn, with the morning sun shining out cheerily on them from where it had risen over the ocean almost parallel to the lawn, and in the distance, one of those huge slate-front houses, looking out toward the sea, all windows across the front of the top floor, the sun reflected in all that glass.

“It was like stepping out of a closet into a big banquet room that’s all lit up and a fire roaring,” Pete told me. “It was shocking to suddenly be in all that light, that green lawn with the dew sparkling on it, and those windows with the sun shining on them, and of course, looking out at the sea where the sun beams were dancing on every little ripple in the water. The impression was all light, light, light, almost too much light. It was hard to focus on anything because it was suddenly so bright.”

“Did you go in the house?” I asked. “Did you meet his dad?”

But Pete seemed reluctant to go on.

“It wasn’t like that,” he told me. “Torstein had stepped out into the sunlight first, and where he was standing, with the sun behind him, he was suddenly too bright to look at. It was like he was all light, standing there, made from light.”

“Didn’t he block the sun though, if the sun was behind him?”

“You’d think so ...” Pete mused. “And then, I think Jack and Jazz and I ran into each other. We’d been following Torstein pretty close, and when we stepped out of the fog and into all that light, I think we piled up against each other. Jazz and Jack and I ended up on the ground, on our hands and knees. Torstein was laughing. But then he was talking to these men.”

“What men? Where did these men come from?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “It was strange. They were all bright like he was, maybe not as bright as he was, but still, it was hard to look at them. There were two of them, big guys, powerful looking, and they were holding onto Torstein, slapping him on the back. They were glad to see him, you could tell that, and they were encouraging him.”

“Encouraging him to do what? Did he introduce them?”

“No, it was almost like he’d forgotten we were even there. And keep in mind, it was so bright, all of a sudden, it was really hard to focus on anything. So I maybe got the wrong impression of what was happening ...”

“What was happening?”

Pete shrugged. “You know how weird stuff happens to Torstein. That seagull that bit him, and the two marlins tail walking toward him out on the boat. This was like that, only it made even less sense. These guys, they were warning Torstein about trouble that was coming, but they were telling him to stay the course, and he would prevail, he would suffer, but he would win.”

I’d noticed when Torstein, Jazz, Jack and my brother had come back from this little jaunt, Pete, Jack and Jazz had seemed a little dazed, like maybe they’d got up too early or needed to go back to sleep ... I’d certainly not expected to hear this story!

“I was beside myself,” Pete said. “When I heard them telling Torstein what was going to happen to him — it was scary. They think he’s going to die, and soon. So I thought, and I was dazzled, you know, that these guys looked big and powerful, and maybe they could prevent this happening. So I blurted out something like, ‘You could just stay here. We’d stay here with you. You’d be safe.’ I felt like an idiot. They all just stared at me. Jack and Jazz were no help. They didn’t say anything.”

“Did they know who these guys were? Did they understand what was happening?”

Pete shook his head. “Who knows what Jack understands? Sometimes he’s miles ahead of me. But I don’t think he knew any better than I did. He was just staring at them, shielding his eyes, his mouth hanging open. Finally the light got so strong, we had to close our eyes, or look away. And then, the light went out. Not out, like dark, but all that brightness disappeared, and it was just a normal sunny morning looking out over the sea. The men were gone.”

“What happened then? Did you go in the house?”

“No,” Pete said. “Torstein came over and helped us up, and slapped us on the back. He said we looked like we needed to get out of the sun, and we started walking back down the drive to the car. We asked him if we weren’t going to meet his father, and he said, ‘Oh, well, you’ve met me. That’s enough for now.’ No idea what he was talking about. No explanation about who those guys were. If they were really even there. It felt like a dream.”

“Did you talk to Jack and Jazz about it?”

“Later. They saw what I saw. They heard what I said. They didn’t know what had happened.”

“Did they hear these men telling Torstein he was going to die?”

“Yah, they heard. But it wasn’t news to Torstein. It was like they were coaches telling him he was 10 yards from the goal line.”

“Criminy.”

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