ALONG THE ENDLESS RIVER

The wind outside blew with a fury that seemed to be born of hell itself. It blasted rain against the shutters of the cabin, a sound that echoed down through the room like pebbles being thrown into a well.

On his mattress, Jacob lay staring at the ceiling, recently awaken by a strange and terrible dream. Dreams came often lately, and more often than not they came as nightmares. The storm outside was a welcome fright, a connective thread to the world around him. The thunder reminded him that he was indeed still of this world, the lightning confirming that things were just as they had been when he lay down to sleep the night before. Still alive. He could smell the warm rain, smell the damp that crept inside, and the phantom visions faded from his mind like mist in a wind.

In his dream, he had first been walking through a field, which looked very much like one near the grade school he had gone to as a boy. It was ringed by groves of trees and the moist, thick grass grew high against his shins. He had seen the shadows of birds passing overhead as he walked. But when he looked skyward, it was clear that he was somewhere else entirely. Clouds were forming overhead, but they were unlike any he had ever seen. They had appeared white initially, but they began to swell and deepen in color. As they grew, they turned pink, then purple, and then a rotted, almost black shade that darkened the world around him. The noise of insects in the meadow ceased and the trees ringing the field stopped swaying, as the breeze died to a silent stillness.

A rising rumble and the sound of stones cracking broke the calm, and he turned, feeling the ground beneath him shifting, trembling. Behind him, the path through the field began to rip open, as if some giant unseen hands were tearing the earth in two like a loaf of bread. Dirt and rocks spewed out from the seam in the ground, which grew to ten, twenty feet across. There was a deafening sound like the roar of a mountain collapsing, and above him the black clouds shifted and swirled, revealing a huge sun the color of blood. Seized by the fear of being swallowed alive, he turned and ran. The grass beat against his bare legs, stinging as the sharp blades sliced his skin. He stopped to look at the red, bleeding welts across his naked thighs and knees, and suddenly he knew he was not alone.

From the trees before him, a huge, snarling wolf stepped into the clearing. Impossibly, it was the size of a cow, and it stalked forward slowly with an air of malice that choked his breath. Its coat was as black as night, and the strange light from the red sun made it glisten like seal’s skin. It gazed upon him with one yellow eye, the blazing end of a hot poker. The other eye was scarred shut, a contusion of mangled knotted skin. Their eyes met and held for that moment, and the beast’s mouth hung open to reveal massive, cruel fangs set within teeth and lips that looked more human than wolf. In that instant, the creature, which seemed now much more man than beast, seemed to be mouthing some words at him. Words he knew but couldn’t place. He stood there frozen, locked between the collapsing, erupting ground behind him and the demon, which now blocked his path. Then from somewhere he heard a voice. Clear and calm. A man’s voice, the voice of God he thought. “Quickly boy, be first.” Then, instantly, he was awake.

Jacob lay there, trying to grip the images from his dream as it faded to vapor. But the hammering of the rain and the howling of the wind anchored him to where he lay, secure in the waking world. Again, still alive. For another thirty minutes he held still, his mind still turning, behind his exhausted eyes . Finally, he drifted off, this time for a deeper and un-fevered sleep.

The next morning Jacob was last to rise. This was uncommon, but his mother’s smiling face showed relief for his extra sleep, rather than any concern. She reached over and rubbed his arm gently, all part of the silent morning greeting routine. The rain had passed with dawn, and outside baby birds chirped hungrily from some hidden refuge in the trees.

His father and Mallory were upstairs working quickly; checking the daypacks as each alternately monitored the outside through the cabin windows. Seeing he was now awake, Mallory smiled at Jacob with a look that told him he would pay later for having his slack picked up.

His father nodded to Mallory and then made the safe signal, circling his thumb and forefinger and holding them above his head.

" Good morning Jake, weren’t sure if you were going to join us...but glad to see you get some rest.”

He looked over at Mal, who offered a slight head-shake. His father’s voice then lifted above a whisper to the normal conversation tone that they used when it was all-safe.

“Looks very clear out there and like a nice morning for a stroll. I think we head down to the interstate, the ramp, then head south a little bit. I would like to get some more out of the traffic jam around Georgetown, so I am bringing the kit. Jake keep an eye out, lots of nice rain last night- so let’s see if we can make it a turkey day. The plan is to be back by lunchtime. ”

His father turned to their mother, who looked like she was already nervous about heading outside.

“Now, Elizabeth, would you like to pray?”

Jacob’s mother reached out and held his hand, his father’s in her other, and it seemed to soothe her nerves a little before she spoke. Her deepened faith was fairly recent development, and she still felt uneasy leading the family in their fledgling prayer circle.

“Heavenly Father, thank you for delivering us through the night and for watching over us. Thank you for the nourishment and shelter and for the strength we find for each other through Your love. And as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, may we fear no evil; for You are with us. Heavenly Father, hold close to you the souls who have departed, may they rest in peace. Please show us the way to Light so that we may join You in the Kingdom. Amen.”

With that, the Kemper family drew the cabin’s curtains, grabbed their gear and headed out to see what the quiet and haunted day held for them.

Jacob’s hands smelled like gasoline, and the odor was intensified by the rising, late July heat. Every time he stepped back from the gas drum, the bugs of summer were buzzing around his head, drawn in by the tangy sweat running down his face. He shooed them away with quick and controlled swipes of his hand. His father was always preaching to him about economy of motion, and this would have made him proud.

They were working their way through the second set of the South-bound cluster, just outside of Georgetown. It was a semi-encampment, folks who had gotten quarantined and waited there on the highway for the barricades to open. Hundreds of cars in all lanes and more bunched around both shoulders. There were still chairs in the road where folks had sat and gotten comfortable, holding out for good news that never came. A couple of tents were in the median where it was flat, and the grass didn’t grow too high. Most of the vehicles had been run down to fumes, but there were those that were left behind with something in the tank. Whether the people in them fled or died trying, no one would ever know.

Uncle RJ had left multiple syphon pumps for them. It was a good thing too, because it made the prospecting go by much faster. Jacob and Mallory moved from car to truck to car, both checking at the same time. When somebody got a hit, mom would pull the car forward quietly so they could run the hose to the drums in the back. It was important to start at the vehicles on the inside first, as the hose might not reach and it would require the drums to be carried by hand over closer to the source. Once the drums started filling up, this became increasingly difficult. Of course, this was always lost on Mallory until Jacob reminded her. And again this morning, she had given the day’s first signal for a hit- from a red Wrangler parked all the way on the outside emergency lane.

Every once in while, he would peer up from his work on the pump and see the flash of sunlight reflecting off his father’s binoculars. Typically he would find an SUV or van and stand on the back bumper, scanning every direction while they worked. A couple of times, he had stood on the hood of a car to get a better look, but their mother would get really jumpy. She said it made him a target, made him stick out like a billboard.

His father had the AR-15 slung across his back, and with the binoculars pressed to his face, it made him look like some sort of mercenary or guerilla. Jacob and Mallory both wore their shoulder holsters while they worked, and the rifle sat next to their mother on the floor of the passenger’s seat in case of a turkey or deer. It was always a little risky being out on the highway, so they stayed armed and alert. Jacob sort of enjoyed these little recon missions. He thought his father might too- but whenever they returned the cabin, the relief in his eyes made Jacob relatively sure that he did not.

After a couple hours of checking and pumping, they had canvassed and emptied about forty vehicles. The drums were filling up, and on this day Mallory’s haul seemed heavier than Jacob’s. He didn’t mind, because it was the first time in a while that she had won their little game. She would be gloating about it, but that was OK.

As they put the syphon pumps into the back of the Bronco, Mallory tapped the drum marked with a black ‘M’.

“Look who’s going to be the queen today?...Winner, winner, chicken dinner.....” she was talking low, with a devious grin.

Mallory was 20, two years younger than Jacob, and almost as tall. Her eyes, slender build and long brown hair reminded everyone of mom, and their father often remarked how much she reminded him of that girl he met in college years ago. Jacob had more than one friend who was in love with her and they all said she looked just like some girl from a George Clooney movie, the one that took place in Hawaii. He knew that in the old world, she could have had just about any boy she wanted. And she seemed to know it too.

“OK smart-ass, its only because I let you have that Jeep early. You know that was bull.“, he said flatly.

She was nodding along not looking at him, while she coiled up the pump hose and tucked it into place.

“Yeah, yeah. Big Jake’s always got an excuse for getting beat by a girl.”

The teasing was fair play, and he allowed it without retaliation. In fact, he was often amazed at how Mallory had taken everything in stride and never lost her spirit. She was always joking around, staying upbeat. It was a breath of fresh air as their mother had become more and more serious.

They closed up the back of the truck and Jacob slid into the front seat, Mallory in the back behind him. His mother looked over at Jake as he checked the rifle and rested it between his legs.

“So did the girls have the big day?” , she asked , reaching into the back seat to give Mallory a no-look five.

“Yes you did. But even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes mom.” , he answered , looking back at Mal through the rear-view mirror.

“Whatever....” ,Mallory said back in her best valley-girl, making the shape of a W with her left hand at him.

Her hands on the wheel, Jacob saw a smile creep across his mother’s face that actually didn’t look exhausted. It looked like a real smile. It was the first one he had seen in a few days.

They turned the Bronco around slowly on the right shoulder, then crossed over to the opposite shoulder where their father joined them, jumping into the backseat behind the driver. They drove back a few miles until reaching the police turnabout that cut across the interstate. Everybody checked out of their windows one last time before committing to their direction, then they turned north and headed back towards their exit.

Once they were rolling on the highway, Jacob’s father began to speak. He was relaxed as he began.

“We aren’t the only ones that have been visiting that parking lot. I saw tracks across the median, up a quarter mile from where you two were working. ”

Jacob felt the hairs rising on his neck.

“What kind of tracks?” his mother asked, the smile from a few moments ago now completely gone.

“Multiple vehicles. And, they were big enough that they showed through rain from the storm. I didn’t see anything that looked like bike tracks.”

There was a release of held breath inside the truck that was almost audible. No motorcycle tracks. Though it had already been almost three months, it felt like it had happened yesterday.

They all waited for their father to speak again, each of them quietly caught in the fog of bad memories.

“Still I think its time to stay off the highway south for a while. I would prefer to keep our distance. I’d also like to go up a little north of the exit and take a look, see if we can tell if its Lexington or the other direction.”