Walking Through Fire, page 9
“Not sure,” Scott said. “How often does she have moral dilemmas?”
“I can hear you!” Rachel shouted over her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Scott shouted. He didn’t sound sorry. “Hey, Adam wants to know how much longer you’re going to be.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and walked back. “Okay. Here’s the deal. We will take what we need, but I’m going to write everything down and leave a note. That way, if the owners come back, I can return what is theirs or give them something in exchange, at least apologize.”
“No, you’re not.” Scott’s voice was flat. “No owner is coming back and you’re not leaving an invitation to looters to come to your house. Do you need me to explain why?”
Rachel’s face went pale. She shook her head ‘no,’ tried to recover. “I’ll keep the list at my house then.”
“Waste of time, but your call. Personally, I think you’d be safer burning these houses down so they aren’t attractive to anyone looking.”
“But then Hiraeth—”
“Here-ith-what?” Scott asked, wrinkling his brow.
“Our house’s name.”
“You named your cabin?”
Rachel brought the conversation back on track. “If we burned the other houses then wouldn’t ours stand out as the only one around?”
Scott opened his mouth and then shut it. “I don’t know. Honestly, it wasn’t in the manual. Park rangers are supposed to tell you civilians not to burn things down.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Okay. Well. I’m not really qualified to burn houses down.”
He shrugged. “Alright guys, get your gloves on. Let’s see what’s in the store for us today. Bonus points to anyone who can find flour, salt, honey or sugar, and powdered milk.” He picked up the hammer. “Oh, and also beer.”
The window broke with a bright crash.
A raven cried out from the top of a nearby tree and spread out its black wings before settling and tilting its head. Beady eyes studied the humans.
Scott looked up and he nodded his head in greeting. Rachel was close enough to hear his muttered, “Hey, Jude.”
Rachel followed the two through the window, wondering what Scott knew about the ravens.
THIRTEEN
It was late when they got back to the house, the wheelbarrow overflowing, Scott’s backpack filled, Rachel carrying bags full of anything they’d thought might be useful. They stowed it all in the garage.
Scott whistled to get Rachel’s attention as she followed Adam to the door, and then held out the rifle. She’d refused to carry the rifle and two boxes of ammo that Scott had found so he’d carried it himself.
“Oh no, I have no idea how to use a gun. I’d probably kill myself. Or the bad guy would take it from me and kill me.” She made a gun with her thumb and index finger and shot herself in the temple. “Bang.”
“Learned helplessness is not cute,” Scott said. “Hold it.”
Stubborn redhead.
“Fine.” The rifle was lighter than she’d expected. Rachel could feel scratches on the composite stock, squinted through the scope, smelled an acrid, metallic odor, and ran her hand down the thin metal barrel.
“Up here, the hunter was probably after deer. Rifle cartridges like these 30-06 come in boxes of twenty, but one of them has been opened.” He pronounced it “thirty-oh-six.”
“So there’s less than forty bullets? That’s not very many. Why wouldn’t the hunter have more?”
“Big game hunters would fire maybe two to six bullets to check their sights.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “It only takes one to kill a deer. This is enough for a standard hunting trip.”
She handed the rifle back to him.
“I’m serious. You don’t wait for the emergency to debate if you’re going to use a gun. Decision has to already be made.”
She shrugged, an angry gesture to show that she didn’t like being forced into action, and then changed the subject. “Hang out for a minute and we’ll have a beer. I think today’s capture counts as something to celebrate. Let me make sure Adam brushes his teeth: he skimps when he’s tired if I don’t check.” She walked into the house and heard his footsteps behind her.
Scott had the curtains closed and candles lit on the bookshelf and on the fireplace hearth when Rachel came back out to the family room. Adam was asleep already, exhausted from the day. Rachel grabbed two green bottles from the unplugged fridge—an attempt to keep them out of the warm air—and brought them to the coffee table. It was a long time since she’d entertained a male guest and she didn’t quite know what to do. Scott stood in the corner of the room looking at the copy of Raphael’s The Madonna of the Meadow. The Virgin Mary sat in a bucolic landscape with two toddlers: Jesus and St. John the Baptist.
Turning at her approach, Scott said, “Are you religious or an art collector? Maybe got this at a yard sale?”
“Keep your voice down, please, or you’ll wake up Adam.” It was something that Craig would have known. “I’m familiar with Bible stories because I had to be; I studied medieval art.” Rachel moved around the table to stand next to Scott. He was taller than her and gave off a not unpleasant aroma of sweat and pine trees.
“I bought this while I was in Rome during sophomore year. I loved the details. See how the mother takes up most of the picture? But look at how the children interact. St. John is kneeling before Jesus. And the top of the reed St. John is holding?” Rachel pointed. “It’s a cross. Jesus is grabbing it, embracing his destiny even as a child.”
“I see that now,” Scott said. “I guess you’ll be our museum curator.” He grinned at her as he reached for the beer and flopped on the couch. “In our post-firestorm society.”
“That was a lifetime ago. Now I’m worried about whether Adam and I will even survive this nightmare. I keep waiting for it to end.”
“Rachel,” Scott took a swig of the beer. “What if this is the world? Can you live with that?”
She walked to the other side of the couch and sat down, making sure to keep distance between them. “I guess I have to. But I don’t understand why the firestorm happened, what it was.”
Scott cleared his throat and sat up straighter. The green bottle rolled back and forth in his hands. “I have a theory. I spend a lot of time outside, you know. Looking up at the stars. A lot of crazy things happened in 2012.”
“No,” Rachel said. “Please tell me you aren’t one of those end of the Mayan calendar doomsday people.”
“Listen. The Mayan long count and prophecies got a lot of press because their astronomers were amazing scientists. Our solar system did pass through the galactic equator, just as the Mayans predicted. They saw it as the crossing of the Sacred Tree. 2012. The same year of a conjunction between Venus and the Pleiades. That year was also the environmental tipping point. The black rhino had just gone extinct from poachers, fracking was connected to earthquakes, and the coral died in Australia because the oceans became too hot. I think it’s all connected to the firestorm.”
“Like divine retribution?” She shrugged. “Seems like it should have been more immediate.” Rachel tucked one leg underneath her and leaned against the couch cushions. “2012 came and went a dozen years ago.”
Scott set the bottle on the coffee table. He’d seemed like a voice of sanity in the wilderness, someone who could be trusted. She felt a surge of disappointment that he was espousing pseudoscience the way people used to claim the earth was flat.
“When did the firestorm fall?”
“June 21, 2024.” The date had seared into her mind.
“Summer solstice. There’s astronomical relevance.”
Scott held up his hand and ticked off the list on each finger. “Climate change, droughts, the increasing power of hurricanes as the oceans warmed. These issues were ignored, but the firestorm was so big that everyone noticed. It didn’t just change the earth; it was the catalyst for a worldwide energy transformation.”
Rachel shook her head and rubbed at her neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Scott. One beer and you’re buzzed?”
“Come with me,” he said, pushing against his lanky knees to stand. “I want to show you something.”
“Adam’s sleeping.” Rachel glanced at the stairs as if to confirm the boy hadn’t appeared.
“I know. It won’t take long.” He held out his hand to help her up off the couch. “You have to see it for yourself.” He gave her a teasing grin. “What are you, scared?”
Rachel looked down at her hands. She knew Scott in general as a park ranger, but he was asking for her trust. On one hand he’d helped them so many ways, but he’d also just claimed that there’d been a worldwide energy transformation. Honestly, she didn’t even know what that meant. Still, if this was something that would help her and Adam to survive, then she needed to learn about it. Whatever “it” was.
“What are you, five?” Rachel accepted his hand.
FOURTEEN
She hadn’t been outside at night since the firestorm, choosing to close the blinds and lock the doors. The night air was warm and dark, muffling sounds like a cocoon. Constant cloud cover diffused the moonlight creating swirls in the sky. Rachel felt as if she’d stepped into Van Gogh’s The Starry Night where the black mountain was represented by the sinister forest in the former park and the gentle village was their homestead.
They tiptoed out the front door. Scott didn’t let go of her hand.
“This way,” he said, guiding her across the driveway and into the woods. They followed the creek that went past Rachel’s house, the creek they used for washing clothes and watering the plants. Of course they were going to the river. She’d known, somehow, that they would.
“You scoffed when I said worldwide transformation because you thought there was no way I’d be able to tell without radios and telephones.” He ducked around a tree and Rachel mimicked, still joined by hands. “But water. That goes everywhere, right? Into the atmosphere, into the ground, out to the oceans,” Scott said. “Have you ever heard of ley lines?”
“No.”
“It’s the idea the earth has certain pathways of energy, natural walkways connecting special landmarks or energy nodes. We humans used to be tuned into these spiritual energy lines, but we lost the ability when we became modern and chose to live in cities apart from the natural world. But, historically, in every culture there are sacred spaces, or otherworld entrances, or special guardians of those holy sites, gods with a little ‘g.’ ”
“Scott, this sounds very mystical.” She tripped over a root and caught her balance. “And, I don’t see the relevance.”
“Why is this part of the Appalachian Mountains doing alright compared to the surrounding areas? Why is the creek right there comparatively clean when Baltimore’s harbor is filled with ash? Your house is near a ley line intersection.”
They came to the dogleg where the creek veered off from the river. A thin jet of light flowed from the river into the creek and diffused. It would be too faint to see clearly during the day. Scott led her farther upstream, to the same place where she and Adam had stood and watched the ravens. The whole river glowed like a million white candles.
Insects, more specks of light in the forested darkness, flew in the air. Lightning bugs, but no, these were shaped like lady bugs and were bigger. To Rachel’s right trees were growing. Maybe three feet high with gray trunks and evergreen needles. They seemed healthy.
“The forest is coming back?” She pulled her hand from Scott’s. “Is that what you wanted me to see? New trees?”
“Not new,” he said. He was distracted, looking for something on the forest floor. “Unless I’m wrong, those are Cedrus libani. Cedars of Lebanon. The species grows in the Mediterranean dating back to the earliest human civilizations, if not even earlier. The question is why are they growing in Appalachia?” Scott bent down and picked up a twig about eight inches long “Ah-ha! Here we go.” He presented the stick to Rachel with a flourish, turning it like a magician to show there was no trick. “Watch this.” He threw the stick in the glowing creek. It floated on the surface and sank.
“Hold on. It doesn’t always work perfectly.” Scott grabbed two more twigs. The second did the same thing. The third, however, sank and then floated back to the surface, the twig emerging as a thick, three foot long branch. It swirled to the edge and Scott picked it up with the tips of his index finger and thumb. He squatted and dug a hole, planting the branch and then wiping his hands on his shorts. “Tingles,” he said with a grimace, shaking out the hand that had touched the stick.
Rachel’s stomach contracted with recognition. She’d felt that tingle in the creek. “What the hell just happened?”
He said, “I don’t know if it’ll grow. But, it definitely changed. You saw that.”
It had changed. There was no denying it. Was it magic? Did turgor pressure fill up the twig’s veins with water? Too many questions to ask. She settled for, “How did you do that? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand either, exactly, but it’s no trick.” Scott held up one finger. “I think the firestorm was deliberate.” He held up a second finger. “I think the earth, and the energy on earth, changed the night of the firestorm.” He held up a third. “Plants and animals are changing in unpredictable ways.” He flicked out his pinky. “Fourth, I think there are people or maybe creatures who know how to use this new, or maybe old, kind of energy.”
“Right.” Rachel shifted position so that she was facing toward her house, wanting to make sure that Adam hadn’t awakened and come outside to look for her. She rubbed her arms. “Those are some wild claims.”
But her thoughts went back to a raven dipping its beak into the river and feeding the rest of its tribe. Fluttering wings. A nurse who wasn’t a nurse from the “land between two rivers” who said “they” would come after Adam because of something the boy had. A voice in a fog, the smell of ozone, the warning that war was coming. Rachel shook her head. Too many unexplainable things, but the big picture still wasn’t clear.
Scott came around to face her. “Listen, don’t freak out, but I knew you guys were here before today. Lucky for me that you were willing to move the tree.”
Rachel nodded, kept her face blank to mask her fear, her burgeoning awareness of their vulnerability. Scott had known they were here, and she hadn’t even thought about who might be planning to take their house, steal their food.
“What’s the story with Adam’s dad? Does he actually exist?”
Rachel reached up to touch the necklace around her throat, but the chain wasn’t there. After clearing her throat, Rachel said, “Craig. My husband. We were married ten years. Adam and I were in the hospital, safe, because Adam had a fever. Craig wasn’t with us.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean?”
“If my kid had cancer and got a fever, I’d be at the hospital with him.”
“No, it’s not like that.” Rachel said. “It’s an emergency, but it’s not an emergency. Blood cancers suck.” She shrugged. “You can’t be on the highest of high alerts for over two years without a break. I wasn’t mad that he didn’t come. If the doctors said it was a virus or Adam didn’t respond to broad spectrum antibiotics, then Craig would have come.
“We’d separated.” She made a face. “It was nasty.” Then she corrected. “We were nasty. Trying to hurt each other. I don’t know if we could have gotten back together. I’d like to think we could have been amicable, put Adam first, all that.”
“If he was alive then he would be looking for you.” Scott sounded confident. “Maybe he’s in Baltimore now.”
“We can’t go back to Baltimore. Adam can’t take it.” Rachel looked down at her hands and then met Scott’s blue eyes, visible in the ambient glow of the creek. “What do you think our chances of making it out here for another three months?”
“You’re stubborn. And strong. Otherwise you wouldn’t be out here trying to set up a homestead.” Scott nodded. “But, you’ve got to let Adam be strong, too. You saw how he stepped up packing supplies in that house, but only after you stopped trying to do everything yourself.”
Rachel’s jaw clenched and she folded her arms across her chest. “I need to take care of him. Adam doesn’t even have the most basic vaccinations because he’s had over twenty blood transfusions. He could die from germs if he falls down and gets a cut; common germs that you and I wouldn’t even know that our bodies were fighting.”
Scott was quiet. Rachel wondered if she’d come down too hard on him, but all he said was, “So he’s a fighter. Bet he gets it from you.” He shifted his feet. “Thanks for sharing the beer with me. Think about what I’ve said about ley lines. It’s not magic; this is a science with rules. We just don’t understand them, yet. I’ve got to get going, but I’ll try to check back on you guys.”
“Where will you go?”
He pushed his chest forward. “I’m the last ranger. Everyone I worked with is gone. Our station was in the path of a fire tornado. I was out in the other part of the park. By the time I got there, the building was destroyed.”
Scott picked at the edges of a scab on his hand. Rachel had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to leave it alone or it wouldn’t heal.
“I first became a ranger because I believe in conservation and love the outdoors. I’m outgoing and independent with a sparkling personality….” He looked at Rachel for her reaction.
“Uh-huh.”
“But now my job description’s changed. I’m learning this new environment. I’m going to map out the area that I believe is protected between ley lines and try to guard this area of forest.” He was so determined, so sure of himself. “Will you be okay getting back to your house?”
“Of course.” Rachel looked at the creek and back at the ranger. “Be careful.”
“Can’t be. Park rangers always lead the resistance. Stephen T. Mather said, ‘Though small in number, their influence is large.’”
Rachel frowned. “Who is that?”
Scott shook his head with a sad expression. “First director of the National Park Service. I will quote him often, so please remember the name.” He faced her and walked backwards upstream. “Keep shopping, hide supplies away from the house so you have backup if your house is raided. I haven’t seen any bears or coyotes around, but they’ll be desperate for food too. Animals have a keen sense of smell so don’t leave anything out. If you’re still here in a couple of months I’ll help you build a cool house over the stream. Practice with that rifle we got today. Sight through the scope without shooting so you don’t waste shots. Just enough practice to get used to handling it and feeling comfortable. More survivors are going to be leaving the cities, possibly coming through here.”
