Journal entry from Tuesday, August 9, 2011

11:30 p.m. at Stoner's Jump in the Simi Hills

The smell of sulphur burns my nose, and my eyes sting from the sooty air. Between the gunfire and the explosion atop Stoner's Jump, my stomach churns with worry about George and his brothers.

At the mouth of the cave, the Manson follower with the broken leg howls in pain. With each swear word, I wince as he threatens us. "You'll pay for this! We'll pull your fingernails out and hang you by your hair."

Ignoring him, I turn my attention to the unconscious Mr. Baccharis. His black top hat is missing, and a dusting of sand covers his long white hair.

Mom sits cross-legged near the old magician's head, her mouth scrunched into a frown. His fingers twitch, then his legs stiffen. With a groan, Mr. Baccharis blinks. In the reflected moonlight, his eyes are glowing orbs.

Nearby, Dr. Betty Morton rises onto her hands and knees, then crawls to Mr. Baccharis. As she reaches him, Mom rises to stand.

Dr. Morton sits and cups the old man's cheeks with her hands. "Are you hurt?"

His nostrils flare at the stink of burning gas, and he turns his head sideways to look at Dr. Morton.

Mr. Baccharis's lips spread into a smile, but his grin vanishes when Mom leans over his head. Her forehead wrinkles and her eyes narrow as shakes a fist in his face. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The old man raises his head, and Dr. Morton removes her hands from his face as he rises onto his elbows. As he cranes his head to look at Mom, his eyes widen. Mr. Baccharis rolls to his side, then presses upward into a seated position facing Mom. Light blue eyes lock onto hers, and he sighs. "Aislinn, this isn't the time to litigate the past."

His words cause a sinking feeling in my stomach. His eye contact with Mom makes me squirm, but I force myself not to look away.

Their staring contest seems to drag on forever. In response, Dr. Morton rises to stand, and she touches Mom's elbow. With a growl, Mom swats her hand away.

As I'm trying to sort out how Mr. Baccharis knows my Mom, dirt, and leaves rain down on my head. Two thick rope ladders drop from the top of the cave and onto the stone tongue jutting over the San Fernando Valley. Atop the cave, a man shouts, "This is the Los Angeles Police Department. Send out the hostages, and no one gets hurt."

Nearby, Seth and Luis exchange a quick glance.

In response to the policeman's orders, Dr. Morton turns away from Mom and shouts, "The boys are safe! They're coming out now."

Dr. Morton presses her lips together, causing deep wrinkles to crease under her nose. But she nods at Seth and Luis, and they walk through the mouth of the cave and onto the stone ledge. Seth waves at someone atop the cave, then he and Luis scramble up the rope ladder.

At the interruption, Mom's face screws up with rage. She raises her right foot like she's going to stomp on Mr. Baccharis's head. But she stops as someone atop the jump lowers two orange sleds onto the stone tongue.

As the sleds rest on the rock, two firefighters wearing heavy mustard-colored uniforms climb down the rope ladders, landing inches from the Manson follower with the broken leg. At the bottom of their coats and at the wrists are bands of yellow reflective tape. Helmets cover their faces, but I assume they're men because of their broad shoulders and big, gloved hands.

A strangled cry escapes Mom's throat at the firefighters' appearance, and she rushes to my side. Heat radiates from her hand when she grabs my arm to pull me away from the rescue. As we flatten against the rock wall, Mom whispers, "Don't say anything to the police. Let me do the talking."

I nod, but fear for George flares in my heart. My heart races as I search for the right words. Sweat drips from my armpits and hands as a painful tingling rips through my arms.

I yank my arm away from Mom and I step towards the firemen. Their headlamps lower to the nearest wounded, the groaning Manson follower with the broken leg. Their headlamps sweep to rest on Dr. Morton shakily rising to stand. She waves her arms and points to Mr. Baccharis laying on the ground.

As one firefighter raises his index finger at Dr. Morton, I ask, "Are the Salvia brothers okay?"

My voice is soft and doesn't get their attention. The firemen scan the cave with their headlamps. Each time their light finds a wounded man, they stop for a few seconds. When the beam swings at me, I wave my arms and yell, "Are the Salvia brothers hurt?"

The firefighters pause, then the first firefighter pivots to help Mr. Baccharis.

The second fireman nods at me. "We're still assessing the casualties." Then he turns away from me to talk into his radio.

Time stands still as I make sense of what the fireman said. Casualties mean dead. In my imagination, George lies broken, in a bloody pool, atop Stoner's Jump. Even as my memory reminds me of the Salvia Curse, and how George can't die if he sees death coming, my chest tightens with anxiety.

Eyeing the rope ladder dangling into the mouth of the cave, I step away from the rescue and flatten against the cave wall. Mom joins me, and we watch the two firefighters lift Mr. Baccharis onto the rescue sled. Dr. Morton hovers nearby as they fasten the straps around his body. When he's secured, the firemen tie the second rope to the foot of the sled. The first firefighter walks onto the ledge and raises a gloved thumb. The two ropes tighten, then someone atop the jump raises the rescue sled off the ground.

As Mr. Baccharis is lifted from the cave floor, the two firefighters move to the Manson follower with the broken leg. The first firefighter removes a split from his backpack, then places it on the ground next to the bone sticking out of the man's leg. With both hands, the firefighter grabs the man's left foot and pulls. A painful screech bursts from his mouth as the bone snaps back into place. His screams drown out the moans of the wounded.

As the firefighters help the injured Manson follower, I slip away from Mom to the stone tongue jutting over the San Fernando Valley. In a burst of speed, I run to the rope ladder. As I'm climbing, Mom's shouts reach my ears.

Ignoring her, I pull myself over the top of the cave and roll onto the plateau. As I rise to stand, I'm blocked by two paramedics. One is a tall Black man with a shaved head and the other is a short, muscular woman with brown hair pulled back into a bun. They're dressed in navy blue pants and long-sleeved shirts.

As they jabber at me, I lean sideways to look around them, and find Stoner's Jump engulfed in flames. Firefighters carrying heavy red fire extinguishers spray streams of white foam over the wreckage of a helicopter. As orange and red flames lick at the sky, they light up charred and broken bodies scattered across the stone.

A strangled cry escapes my throat as the female paramedic removes her backpack to retrieve a blanket, which she wraps around my shoulders. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come as she gives my right shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Are you hurt?"

In response, I shake my head. Tears fill my eyes and I force myself to turn away from the burned bodies. As I look out over the twinkling lights of the San Fernando Valley, I'm blinded by a spotlight from another helicopter. I squeeze my eyes shut, and my head fills with the memory of this morning's horrifying vision of George being sacrificed to the Wicker Man.

George burns alive.

My heart skips a beat with a terrifying realization. What if the Wicker Man is symbolic, and this is how George dies?

Heaviness settles over my chest and tears stream down my cheeks. I breathe in, hoping to inhale George's scent, but the sickening smell of burning meat fills my nostrils. Lowering my head, I gag.

As I'm hacking up a lung, the light fades. I open my eyes and find Mom climbing to join me. The black paramedic rushes to her and helps her over the top of the cave. As he pulls her to stand, he leans to her ear to say something. Mom shakes her head, then peels his fingers from her arms.

With a shrug, he gestures to the female paramedic, and they climb down the rope ladder to the cave.

Together, Mom and I turn to the chaos atop Stoner's Jump. A news helicopter flying overhead shines a spotlight on police officers as they inspect the bodies scattered across the plateau. Ten feet from me lies a corpse with one blackened arm stretching skyward. Beyond the corpse is a headless torso. Between the blackened torso and the burning wreckage are dozens of police officers.

One breaks from the group to block off the area with yellow caution tape, but the wind snatches the strand from his hand. As it flaps against the wind, another officer turns away from the group to grab the end.

As he raises his head to look at me and Mom, I recognize the beefy face belonging to Officer Johnson. Three days ago, he and Officer Gutierrez found my unconscious body on Portal Hill.

Officer Johnson's eyes widen in recognition. As he walks toward us, he speaks into his radio.

In under a minute, he reaches Mom and me. His face collapses into a frown and his eyebrows knit together. "Speak of the devil, Amber McBride."

At my side, Mom chimes in. "That's no way to speak to a traumatized teen."

Johnson lowers his head and removes his LAPD hat. "Apologies, no harm intended."

As he puts his hat back on his head, I blurt, "Where are the Salvia brothers?"

A deep sigh escapes Officer Johnson's lips. "We're still sorting through the damage. It will take a few days before all the bodies are identified."

My legs wobble, then give way and I collapse into Mom. Burying my face in her chest, I sob.

Another man speaks with a rich tenor voice. "Hey now, we don't know anything yet. There's still hope they made it out of here alive."

I raise my head to find Officer Gutierrez. His lips spread into a smile, and he extends his hand. "It's not safe for you two to be up here. Come with me, and we'll take you to your friends."

Sniffling, I turn away from Mom to wipe my runny nose with my t-shirt. Then we follow the officers northward across the jump to a waist-high boulder. A rope ladder dangles from two metal spikes jutting from the top.

Gutierrez stops and turns to Mom and me. "You okay to climb down?"

As we nod in unison, he waves us around the boulder. Officer Gutierrez grabs the rope ladder and waves to us. "I'll go first, then you two. Officer Johnson will bring up the rear."

I turn to Mom, who gestures for me to climb down first. As I walk to the north side of the boulder, I see the meadow at the base is crawling with cops. In the center of the meadow, a cluster of police officers huddle around another waist-sized boulder, atop which sits a rectangular box with flashing lights.

Turning away from the meadow, I grab the rope and climb over the edge of Stoner's Jump. As I descend, the wind rushes in my ears. My heart is sick with worry about George and his brothers. In desperation, I silently call on Brigid.

Please save George. Don't let him die.

The wind intensifies to a shriek, and I pause for a moment to lean my forehead against the stone. Despite the night, it's warm to my touch.

Suddenly, the warmth spreads to my cheeks, neck, and chest. With the warmth comes the savory scent of black sage.

Inside my head, a silky voice speaks. "The time will come when I will call upon you. You must do as I ask, without question. Do you consent?"

I nod in response, my forehead scraping against the sandstone.

"Swear a blood oath that you'll honor your commitment."

At the Goddess's words, a chill runs down my spine. Every fiber of my being screams no! but I shout, "I promise to do whatever you ask."

As I swear my oath, the intoxicating scent vanishes. When the warmth disappears, I wonder, Why does Brigid want help from a nobody like me?

AUTHOR NOTES:

Banner photo of the San Fernando Valley at night created by Google's Gemini AI

Playlist Just Another Day by Oingo Boingo

https://youtu.be/nQusU0g9H-E