Rainwalkers

by Matt Ritter

  “Don’t know how many times I told you not to assume what you’re seeing is real. Go on now, set that piece of yours on the ground. Then get up those stairs, or I’ll put an arrow in your back.”

  Millard slowly pulled back his coat, extracted his handgun from the holster, and with the handle held between his thumb and forefinger, bent to set in on the ground.

  “Now up the stairs.”

  Once he was inside and halfway across the room, Millard turned with his hands up to face Elbridge.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said as Elbridge shut the door.

  “And yet, here you are, trying to sneak up to my doorstep.”

  “This is a business call.”

  “Business? You’re in the business of killing people. You have no business here.”

  “I’m looking for a man. Escaped from the San Ardo Labor and Oil Producers camp two days ago. You know that I know he was here, with a gimpy companion. I intend to have you tell me where they were headed.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me what you intend to have me do.”

  “Look, old man. I have a job to do. I’ll bring him back, dead if I have to.”

  “Not with my help, you won’t.”

  “Who’s the gimp?” Millard asked. “Did you arm those two men? Do they have weapons with them?”

  The old man didn’t answer, just stared at him along the line of his arrow.

  “Alright, this is the way it’s gonna be? You aren’t gonna tell me anything about them? I’ll find them one way or another. You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

  “What if I put an arrow in you right now?” The old man raised the crossbow.

  “You and I both know killin’ me would be more trouble than it’s worth to you. You got something on these two men? I know the large one, Willie Taft. He isn’t a resistance fighter. Can’t figure why you’d be helpin’ them.”

  The old man grew irritated.

  “You best leave those two boys be. Something terrible is happening in this Valley, and you’re just helping it.”

  Millard looked down at his pistol, which Elbridge had placed in his belt. “Alright, you going to let me have my gun back?”

  “Nope. I never suspected you’d turn into such a rotten bastard, huntin’ folks for money after everything I taught you.”

  “How about you let me walk away then?”

  Elbridge glanced out the window. “We got about a half hour ’til that rain comes. I’ll let you go in about twenty-five minutes.”

  Millard shook his head. “Well, if you’re going to send me out into the rain, how about you let me have a glass of water first?”

  The old man looked to the sink. “You can get it yourself. There’s well water on the counter.”

  Millard took two steps to the kitchen counter where he found a heavy mug in the cupboard above the sink. Methodically, he picked up the pitcher and slowly poured the cup three-quarters full. He lifted the mug to his nose, smelled it, then drank it down, swallowing loudly. Millard filled the cup a second time, this time almost to the brim.

  In one swift motion, he hurled the full mug at Elbridge while ducking. The arrow stuck into the cabinetry just above his head. He lunged at the old man, who threw the crossbow at him and fumbled for the handgun in his belt. Before he could lift it, Millard was on him and swatted it away, then swung the old man around in his arms and held him in a chokehold. Millard went for his pocketknife and flipped it open with one hand on the side of the old man’s neck. The tip of the knife dug into his skin, and a thick droplet of blood came forth onto his white beard.

  “You were like a son to me,” Elbridge said, struggling against the hold.

  “Shouldn’t have let me go for the water. Your kindness was always your weakness.”

  “Let me go,” the old man pleaded.

  “How soon ’til that rain really comes?” Millard asked him.

  “Don’t know. Less than an hour. Now let me go.”

  “I’ll ask one last time, where were those two men headed? Don’t be a fool.”

  “A fool? I tried to teach you everything, and this is all you became. You could have been so much better. You’re the fool.”

  Millard dug the knife deep into Elbridge’s throat. He felt a warmth on the back of his hand and saw a fine mist as blood sprayed from the old man’s neck. A gurgling sound came from his open mouth, and his body went limp. Millard let him fall into a crumpled mass on the ground.

  As Elbridge struggled for his last breaths, Millard kneeled next to him and whispered into his ear, “You’re the only fool. Always too proud and too kind.” He stood, recovered his pistol, and went to the sink to wash his hands.

  Out on the trailer’s wooden landing, Millard surveyed the downvalley sky, trying to calculate the time needed to return to his jeep and how long until the rain returned. He holstered his pistol, buttoned his coat, and sprinted off the deck and down the path toward his vehicle.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Science Minister Ben Harrison left his laboratory in the Valley Administration building in the early afternoon carrying a black leather bag. The bag wasn’t heavy, but he let it rub against the side of his knee as he walked down the long hallway to the elevator for a ride down to the second floor.

  Upon exiting the elevator, a tall, thin military officer greeted him with dark hooded eyes and sunken cheeks still visible beneath a short salt and pepper beard. Ben was also tall and had always been skinny, so as they shook hands the two men looked like gaunt pillars of a high bridge.

  “Good afternoon, Minister.”

  “Colonel Adams, good afternoon. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  The colonel took his time to respond. He was a dignified, stoic, and thoughtful man. Although only in his forties, he was aged far beyond his years, a witness to the deaths of a thousand young men in too few years.

  “As you know, this project has become a high priority for the Valley Manager. It was one of my units that collected the children. If you’ll follow me this way, we have them waiting for you in a room down the hall.”

  “How are things going on the fronts?” Ben asked as they walked.

  The colonel stopped and looked at him, then shrugged and looked away.

  “I’ve known you a long time, John,” Ben said. “You’re the highest-ranking military officer in the Valley. What’s happening?”

  “Things are not as good as I’d hoped. Our efforts in the border regions need reinforcing. The Valley exclusion wall takes constant maintenance. Frequent rains have crippled us. The only saving grace is that they’ve also affected our enemy’s ability to push forth into our territory.”

  “How long do we have?” Ben asked.

  “Until what?”

  “Until we have to contract our borders until we’re invaded. Until we’re overrun,” Ben said.

  The colonel looked down the hallway and considered the question. He spoke in a hushed voice. “I don’t know. That may depend on you. We operate the best we can under the circumstances. You need to find a way to stop this incessant raining. It’s getting worse by the week and has been for the last few months.”

  Ben didn’t speak; he shook his head, letting the colonel know he’d been heard.

  “Is there any progress toward a solution?” the colonel asked.

  “We’re trying. Our recent experiments have failed.”

  The colonel took a step closer. “I believe in you, Ben. Always have. We came into this administration together, and we can fix this together. Find a solution.”

  For a moment, the colonel held his gaze on Ben, then turned down the hallway, leaving him to follow.

  Colonel Adams opened the door on a windowless room with a couch, a table with two chairs, and a stainless-steel sink in the corner. Two young boys sat on the couch, playing cards between them. A third boy, much younger than the other two, sat at the table drawing on a piece of brown paper.

  “Boys,” the colonel yelled, “this is Science Minister
Harrison. He’s also a doctor, and he’s here to make sure you’re healthy. Do as he says.”

  “You can call me Ben,” Ben said as he set down his black bag, grabbed the free chair, and pulled it in front of the couch. “What are your names?”

  The oldest boy spoke first. “I’m Jacob, that’s Kyle, and he’s Micah,” he said, pointing to the young boy at the table.

  “How old are you, Jacob?”

  “Eight.”

  Ben looked at the second boy on the couch, who continued to stare down at the cards.

  “Kyle’s seven, but he doesn’t talk much,” Jacob said.

  They turned to Micah, who looked up from his drawing at the table. “I’m five,” he said, then he looked directly at Ben and asked, “Do you know where my mommy is?”

  Ben sat silently looking at the boy, figuring his answer. “Micah, I don’t know where she is, but we’re trying to find her.”

  Ben glanced at Colonel Adams, who stood stone-faced. He felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach and a hard knot forming in his throat. Faded memories of his own mother came back to him. He was the age of the middle boy when he was taken from her. He drew a deep breath and swallowed.

  “Colonel Adams, would you mind if I had time alone with these boys? I’ll get them checked out.”

  “I’ll wait in the hallway.”

  “Thank you.”

  When the door had closed, Ben looked at the youngest boy and said, “Micah, come over here and sit with us on the couch.”

  The boy put down his pencil, rose, and looked Ben over. “You’re going to get my mommy to come here?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Micah crossed the room and sat between the two older boys after they had collected the cards.

  “What’s in your bag?” the oldest boy asked.

  “A stethoscope and some other doctor’s stuff. Oh, hold on, I also have something else in there.” Ben reached for his bag, pulled out three suckers, and handed them to the boys. The second boy took the sucker without looking up at Ben. “Go ahead, you can have them now.”

  Ben watched the boys unwrap the candies and look them over.

  “What is it?” the youngest boy asked.

  “It’s a candy, you lick it. Go ahead. I think you’ll like it.”

  The oldest boy was the first to try it. He licked it carefully, then with eyes lit up, put the whole sucker into his mouth. The other boys watched him. He nodded to them and said, “It’s good.”

  “How are you feeling?” Ben asked the oldest boy.

  “I want to go back home,” he answered, holding the sucker out of his mouth and studying it.

  “Where is home for you?”

  “Greenfield. The school, I guess.”

  “So, you didn’t get sick when you were out in the rain?” Ben asked, choosing his words cautiously.

  The boy’s face grew stiff. He looked down at his lap where he held the sucker. After a long silence, he said, “I felt nothing.”

  The boy shrugged and didn’t look up at Ben.

  “You’re fine now.” Ben put his hand on the boy’s knee, and he flinched.

  “I don’t want to go back into the rain,” Micah said, his voice muffled by the sucker in his mouth.

  “Did the rain make you feel sick, Micah?” Ben asked.

  The book shook his head.

  “Well, you’re not going to have to go back.”

  Just then a knock came on the door. Ben rose and opened it. A young man in a lab coat was waiting outside.

  “Come in.”

  “Boys, this is Theodore. He works with me in the lab here in the Valley Administration Building. He’ll help you.”

  “Can he get my mommy to come here?” Micah asked.

  “I’m going to try right now while you talk to Theodore. Then I’ll come back in a while.”

  Theodore followed Ben into the hallway. The door closed behind them, and the colonel joined them.

  “They’re younger than I thought they’d be,” Theodore said.

  “The elementary school in Greenfield.”

  “Where are these kids’ parents?” Ben asked the colonel.

  “I don’t know. Dead or in an upvalley camp.”

  “Do we have the full names of the children? Can you find the parents?” Ben asked.

  “I can try. The Valley Manager said nothing about bringing their parents here.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. You send word of the names of these three to the camps and see if we can find their parents.” Turning to his assistant, Ben said, “We need to run the tests on them immediately. We need to draw blood.”

  “Sure.”

  “And take your time. Those boys have been through a lot. Start by feeding them.”

  “Of course,” he said, then opened the door and reentered the room.

  When the door shut again, Ben looked at the colonel.

  “Are you under orders to find more children?” Ben asked.

  The Colonel hesitated, then stared at Ben. “I’m not at liberty to speak about any ongoing operations, Ben.”

  “What? John, come on. How long have we served together?” Ben asked.

  “Many years, but I have my orders from the Manager, and you do, too.”

  “You realize what you’re doing, right?”

  The Colonel looked down at his polished black shoes and seemed to hesitate before speaking.

  “Do you mean what we are doing, Ben?” he asked in a loud whisper, looking up and down the hallway. “You’re a part of this.”

  Ben said nothing.

  “We’re facing defeat. Not just at the border zones, but our entire Valley could be overrun. You need to find a way to stop this incessant rain or we’ll find a way to operate in it. And that’s what the Manager is doing.” Speaking in an accusatory tone, he asked, “What have you been doing?”

  “Planes are flying the downvalley airspace tomorrow with a different seeding formula we just finished creating.”

  “Do you think it will work?”

  “Not likely.” Ben let out a long and involuntary sigh. “The seedings have stopped affecting anything.”

  “Do you know why it’s getting worse?”

  “I don’t. Potentially there’s been a new mutation. We’ve run tests, collected the bacteria in every different type of cloud, killed everything from rats to pigs in the rain, and still can’t figure out what’s changing.”

  “Something needs to happen soon.”

  “We’ll figure this out. These children hold the answer.”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do, Ben. It’s despicable. This isn’t the Valley I grew up serving.”

  “Me neither.”

  The colonel looked nervously over Ben’s shoulder down the hallway. “Maybe there’s a better way, and maybe it won’t always be like this, but for now we’re desperate. Sacrifices must be made. The Manager has his plan, and I’ll do everything in my power to protect my men and the people of this Valley.”

  “Even the children?”

  The colonel didn’t answer.

  “There’s got to be a better way,” Ben said.

  “I hope we can find it.”

  Colonel Adams stood tall and straight and looked at Ben.

  “For the Valley,” he said.

  “For the Valley,” Ben repeated.

  The colonel did a ceremonial turn on his heels and stiffly walked away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Salinas Valley is in a place once called Northern California. A long, narrow swale created over millennia by the collision and subduction of the Pacific Plate under the Continental. A river cuts a deep trough along the Valley floor, running downvalley from the rolling hills of San Ardo in the south, eventually falling into the Pacific far to the north. The Valley’s deep and rich soils are the result of eons of erosion from the steep Santa Lucias on the Valley’s western edge, combined with the slow slumping of the straw-colored Gabilans along the east.

  The first
inhabitants of this remarkable place arrived fourteen thousand years ago, a band of disconnected survivors wandering in from the cold north, wild and superstitious. The Valley became a Native American oath to fertility, bisected by a well-worn path down its center. Souls waiting for the taking; warring, violent, yet peaceful in their own way, but not at all prepared for what was coming. They had their stories and legends, all of which eventually came to pass.

  Along their path from the south came a marauding band of dried up European foreigners attempting trickiness at first, and when that didn’t work, brutal, unmatched force. From the path grew a road, the Camino Real, connecting the religious hovels, new pueblos, and presidios. The Valley was forever changed. The Camino went from San Miguel Arcángel to San Antonia de Padua to Nuestra Señora de la Soledad to the San Carlos Borroméo de Carmelo before leaving the Valley north to San Francisco.

  In the times between the religious missions and before the rains, the camino was named U.S. Highway 101, but that name had no soul and didn’t last. At the end of the one-hundred-year drought, after the death of two hundred million trees and the regional breakups, the Valley Administration replaced Highway 101 with the longvalley freeway, raising it high above the Valley floor, isolating it from any farm road intersections. An unbroken bridge, the freeway floated above the Valley, between the work camps and oil fields in the south to the downvalley headquarters of Salinas City in the north.

  Halfway between its origin and destination, the longvalley freeway crossed above the old town of Gonzales. The same well-worn route that connected that original pueblo to all the rest still ran through that town, but it ended abruptly in a field of broccoli and beyond that corn, then grapes, then lettuce, then cotton.

  The residents of Gonzales, who worked the endless surrounding fields, never had access to the longvalley highway as it ran over the top of their town. They could hear it and look up from the muddy fields to watch official vehicles and military caravans sweep by. The fruits of their labor were pulled up a guarded ramp, the only access to the highway from Gonzales, to be set on the edge, loaded and carried downvalley to Salinas City. Each week a single trailer was lowered down the ramp for the town Manager to disburse its vital contents.