Rivers

by Michael Farris Smith

  Evan looked around and found a couple of folding chairs and a short bench behind the counter. The women and Brisco went and sat down. Evan and Cohen moved over toward the locked door. Cohen held the light on the padlock.

  “That door don’t look like much,” Evan said. “Not if you really wanted to get in.” He shined the light up and down the metal door and there were footprints about waist-high and indentions up and down it.

  “Maybe it’s tougher than it looks,” Cohen said.

  “Probably ain’t nothing,” Evan said.

  “Probably not.”

  “You gonna get it open?”

  Cohen shrugged. He turned and walked to the counter and Evan followed. They both hopped up and sat on it. Cohen shined the flashlight around again and then turned it off. Nadine said let me take a turn and Kris handed her the baby. Then each of them sat still and quiet. It rained and the wind came in gusts.

  As they sat there in the dark, the weight of it all began to collapse around them in the confined space. The storm muted all and left them suspended in the absence of sound. A steady, heavy drone. Mariposa slumped in her chair and Brisco lay across her lap. Nadine held the baby, her head bowed and resting on top of the tiny bundled body. Kris stretched out her legs and rested her hands across her stomach. Evan stared at Brisco. Cohen stared at his hands. Quiet, fatigued silhouettes.

  They were small things against this big thing. Against this enormous thing. Against this relentless thing. Small, exhausted things whose lives had become something so strange and extraordinary that it didn’t seem possible that they could be anywhere but sitting in this abandoned building in this abandoned land in this storm-filled night in this storm-filled world. They sat still and exuded exhaustion. Maybe even hopelessness. Maybe even helplessness. The day had begun with the idea of a finish line, but that idea was being washed away in this torrent of despair.

  Cohen stood up from the counter and folded his arms. He walked away from them and stood in the center of the floor between fallen shelves. He listened. Looked around in the dark. Water dripped all around him. He thought about the baby and what would become of his life. Or would he have a life? Would he live to see another place? A normal place where lights shined and refrigerators kept food cold and beds were soft and sometimes the sun came out and people rode in cars and had jobs and if you needed something you went to a store to get it and the sound of thunder didn’t sound an alarm but only meant nourishment for rosebushes and the front yard. Would he live to another place? And if they managed to get him somewhere, who would change his diapers and teach him his colors and ABCs and would he have friends and would he go to school and would he ever call anyone Momma and would he ever call anyone Daddy? Would he ever play T-ball or learn to ride a bike or not have to worry about being hungry? Would he ever know the story of how he was born and where he was born and who his father was and what a miracle it was that he was alive at all and would he ever know the story of the group of misfits who somehow managed to get him across the Line? He was a long shot. They were all long shots. In every direction, a long shot.

  Cohen uncrossed his arms and looked at his hands and he thought of the knife in his hands and the baby’s mother and her screaming and her pleading and her blood. In this blackest night, her blood flowed across his mind and turned his thoughts crimson, and he saw crimson on the walls and on the floor and dripping from the ceiling and puddled on the floor and blowing in from the windows and he felt it dripping from his beard. He saw crimson and he heard her begging for somebody to do something and then her voice became his voice and he heard himself cry out as he sat on the road with Elisa’s head in his hands, crying out for somebody to do something but there was no one who could do anything as it had already been done. The choice for her to die and for the baby to die had already been made and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. He heard his own voice and now the blood that flowed in his mind was Elisa’s blood and he felt it on his hands and he felt it across his legs and he cupped his hands and felt her head resting in them and he begged for help but there was none and he felt her heartbeat disappear and then he felt the heartbeat of his little girl disappear.

  He brought his hands to his face and he touched his fingertips to his cheeks as if to make sure that he was real. He held them there. Closed his eyes and the spirit of renewal that had filled him earlier in the day was buried under all else.

  She sat in the seat with her legs crossed while they drove on Highway 90. Summer sun and the windows down and they went to Ocean Springs and parked downtown and walked to a patio bar and sat down and drank draft beer and ate crab claws and then they got up and walked to another patio bar and drank more beer and ate boiled shrimp. A white-bearded man sat on a stool in the corner and played his guitar and the day faded and when they were done they got up and walked again, underneath the moss trees and past the two-story houses and once or twice they exchanged waves with people sitting on an upstairs balcony. They walked on, pushing and pulling at each other, laughing at stupid jokes and stopping now and then to kiss and then slapping and grabbing at one another as they walked on and then they came to the beach and it was getting dark. They left their flip-flops at the sidewalk and stepped into the white sand, holding hands and smiling devilish smiles at one another. A mother was corralling the kids and packing up towels and plastic buckets and shovels and some teenage girls sat in a circle and passed around a cigarette. The two of them walked on until there was no one around and then they sat down in the sand and watched the last of the light drift away. The stars appeared and he lay on his back and she lay her head on his stomach and stretched out and they made the letter T. The water washed gently onto the shore. Down the beach somewhere a dog barked. Elisa hummed a song he didn’t quite recognize. He slipped his hand into his pocket and eased out the ring box. He reached over and lifted her shirt and ran his hand across her tan stomach, and then he set the ring box on her bare skin. She stopped humming. Sat up and looked at him and smiled and he smiled back and she didn’t open it but squeezed it in her hand and fell back on top of him and they rolled in the sand, laughing and kissing and crying a little.

  Cohen moved his fingertips from his face and opened his eyes. He opened his coat, reached inside, and took out the pistol. It was cold in his damp hand. Everything was cold and damp in his hand. Everything was cold and damp. Or cold and wet. Or cold and soaked. Or cold and underwater. Or cold and wet and knocked over. Or cold and wet and shattered or cracked or busted or gone. Or just gone. Everything was gone. Everything was gone but for his very real Jeep and it was his very real chance if they ever got the hell out of here but none of that mattered because he had panicked and left it behind. He had to go and get it, wanted to go and get it, but the chance of getting back down there and out with it didn’t warm him with confidence. It was his and he didn’t have to share it. He had his chance and missed it and now here he was, with them, stuck in the middle of this, and somewhere was his life, but he didn’t know where.

  He lifted the pistol and touched its nose to the bottom of his chin. He held in a breath. The water was all around them and the wind was all around them and hell seemed to be closing in and if there was a darker place on the face of the earth he didn’t know where it could be.

  “Jesus Christ,” Kris said with a start and then she let out a quick shout of pain.

  Cohen jerked at the sound of her voice and he lowered the pistol and put it back inside his coat. She yelled out again and Evan hopped down off the counter and moved to her and she was grabbing at her sides again. Cohen stepped around the shelves and came to her and said, “Same shit?”

  “Oh yeah. Oh yeah,” she said. Her breaths were quick and had little moans in between.

  The others sat up and they all formed a circle around her. Oh God, oh God, she kept saying. She rocked back and forth, took deep breaths. Oh God, oh God.

  Mariposa stood behind her and put her hands on Kris’s shoulders. She rocked and moaned, rocked and moaned.
They stood there and watched because there was nothing else they could do. And then the baby woke up and started crying.

  “Shit,” Cohen said.

  Nadine talked to the infant and put her lips on his forehead. “Damn, he’s hot as fire,” she said.

  “Ooooooh, hell,” Kris said and Mariposa told her to hold on. Hold on.

  Cohen reached over and touched the baby’s face. “Goshdamn,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Nadine said. “Goshdamn. He’s smoking.”

  The baby wailed and Kris grunted and said Oh God and squeezed Mariposa’s hands. Brisco made a sound like he might start crying and Cohen went to reach over and touch his shoulder but they all jumped at the loud thwack from the back of the store.

  “What the fuck!” Cohen yelled.

  Evan stood at the metal door with part of a busted shelf. “I wanna see what’s in here,” he yelled back.

  “Leave it alone,” Cohen said.

  “Quit messing around, Evan,” Mariposa said.

  He drew back the shelf and whacked the door again.

  “Oh God, oh God,” Kris said.

  “Quit that shit!” Nadine yelled over the crying baby.

  Evan drew back and whacked the door again and this time Cohen walked over to him, kicking at whatever was in his way, and he tried to yank the piece of shelf from Evan but Evan didn’t let go.

  “I wanna see what’s in there,” he said defiantly.

  “Why the hell you gotta see what’s in there right this damn second?”

  “I just wanna see.”

  “You might not.”

  Kris yelled out and Cohen let go of the shelf piece and turned to look in her direction.

  Thwack!

  Cohen grabbed Evan by the collar of his coat and yanked him back. He shined the flashlight on the padlock and pulled out the pistol and fired. The lock busted and he fired again and the doorframe exploded.

  “There,” he told Evan and the gunshots sent Brisco crying and Nadine and Mariposa were both yelling something and the baby screamed and Kris gripped her sides and said Oh God oh God.

  “Here,” Cohen said and he shoved the flashlight into Evan. “Go see for yourself, you little shit.”

  Evan took the light and told Brisco to calm down but the boy didn’t listen. Cohen stood there and waited to see if he would open the door. Evan shined the light on the busted lock and frame, then he stepped over to the door. He pushed, but it wouldn’t open. He pushed a little harder, and the top of the door opened but the bottom was stuck.

  “Listen,” Cohen said.

  “What?” Evan asked.

  They stood still a moment.

  “You hear something?”

  Evan waited. Shook his head.

  “Nothing,” Cohen said.

  Evan put his foot on the bottom of the door and pushed and when he did, whatever was on the other side gave way and the door fell open. Almost instantly, Evan started hopping up and down and then Cohen did the same and Evan shined the light down into the room and hundreds of rats came pouring out of the storage room that had been filled with boxes of pasta and peanuts and bags of potatoes and whatever else might be good in a bind. The rats quickly filled the store and Evan and Cohen were jumping around and slipping and sliding and the rats skidded across the wet floor and went up and over the shelves and along the walls and everywhere. The women were up and screaming, even Kris whose pain had been momentarily overwhelmed by rat terror. Mariposa helped her up and then she lifted Brisco onto the counter and it was screams and leaps and rats rats rats. Evan busted his ass and went down and the rats climbed up and down his body. He came up swinging and twisting and shook them off and Cohen slapped at the rats up and down his legs and then he screamed for everybody to get the hell outta there. Nadine and the baby were the first ones out and Mariposa held Kris and helped her out. Brisco was jumping up and down on the counter and screaming and Cohen snatched him and went for the door and Evan nearly knocked them both down as he flailed like a runaway scarecrow toward the exit.

  Outside, Nadine held the baby tucked like a football in one arm and she held Kris with the other and she was fighting the wind to get into the truck. The last of the aluminum awning on the storefront snapped free and crashed across the windshield as they were ducking in the door. Mariposa stepped in a deep puddle and went down with a yell. She rolled in the water and grabbed at her ankle and Evan ran to her and helped her up and over to the other truck. The rain beat and beat and Cohen carried Brisco on his hip and managed to get the driver’s door open and he tossed Brisco in.

  When the four were inside, Cohen said, “I got to go see about her. Evan, drive this one.” Mariposa moaned and held her ankle and Evan climbed across her and Brisco to get to the steering wheel. Cohen was out and over to the other truck and when he got in, Kris was leaned over grasping at her sides and the baby screamed and Nadine had the look of the bewildered.

  Cohen cranked the truck and turned on the lights and the rats were wild in the doorway and across the storefront but none of them went out the doorway and into the rain.

  “Can you sit up?” Cohen asked Kris but she said oh shit and the baby screamed.

  The storm beat like a thousand drums and the truck moved with the wind.

  “Fucking-ass rats!” Nadine yelled.

  “Oh shit,” Kris groaned.

  “Where the hell’s a pacifier?” Cohen said.

  Nadine reached around on the seat and floorboard but couldn’t find one and then Kris said, “My pocket.” Nadine felt in Kris’s coat pocket and pulled one out and touched it to the baby’s lips. He took it in his mouth and sucked and Nadine thanked God. But Kris didn’t as she was too consumed with the feeling that something was going to pop out of her from somewhere. One of the doors of the ice machine whipped open and broke off and disappeared across the gravel lot that was quickly becoming a gravel pond.

  “Goshdamn,” Nadine said in a high, anxious voice. She was touching the baby’s face and head. “He’s hellfire hot. We gotta do something.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” Cohen said, but he didn’t know what.

  The other truck honked and Mariposa was waving to them. The truck then moved in reverse and Cohen backed up and followed Evan out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

  “He don’t know where he’s going,” Nadine said.

  “I can’t help it,” Cohen said. “You want me to let them ride off?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Kris said with her teeth clenched. She huffed and puffed and then said help me up. Nadine held out her arm and Kris grabbed on to it and got upright. She slumped down in the seat and squeezed her stomach. “Oh hell no,” she said.

  “Cross your legs,” Nadine said.

  “What the hell?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” Nadine yelled.

  They were back out on the skinny back road and it was almost impossible to see. Evan drove out front at a crawl and moved on until the road declined and at the bottom was a wash. Flooded as far as the headlights could show. Cohen saw the red taillights and stopped, then began to back up. Water and dirt and mud rushed along the road and the tires spun some but caught enough to make it in reverse to the store.

  They turned around, and Cohen got out in front this time. So dark and so much rain everywhere. In the next few slow miles, Kris’s pain subsided and the baby sucked the pacifier and fell asleep and Nadine was oddly quiet as they crept along the back roads. The houses were separated by miles of countryside and Cohen several times went up a long driveway only to find that there wasn’t a house anymore. Or there was half a house and he couldn’t trust it to ride out a storm. After several more tries and another hour, they were all surprised when they followed a winding driveway and came upon a two-story farmhouse still standing.

  31

  EVAN PULLED UP BESIDE COHEN and they sat for several minutes with the four headlights on it. It had once been white but was weathered and the paint was peeling and half its shutters had blown away and some windows were
gone. They watched for some minutes more to see if there was any light or any movement but it sat quiet, its tall rectangular windows like big black eyes staring back at them. Cohen waved at Evan and they drove up closer to the house and parked around on the backside where a porch stretched the house length. The right side of the porch had sagged to the ground and parts of its roof were missing and water dripped or poured all through the porch. The back door was closed and a refrigerator lay on its side next to the door.

  Cohen waved at Evan to hold on, and then he backed up the truck and shined his headlights on the house and they watched again. Looked for shadows or anything. Still nothing.

  Cohen killed the truck, got out, and hurried around to the passenger door to help Nadine and the baby out first and then Kris. They went carefully up the porch steps and opened the back door. Cohen called out, “Anybody in here? Anybody? We’re just looking for somewhere for the night. That’s all.”

  “Ain’t nobody here,” Nadine said and pushed through. She walked in the house as if it were hers and Kris followed her. Mariposa and Evan and Brisco trailed Cohen through the doorway.

  Cohen pulled a flashlight from his coat pocket and he shined it around the room. They stood in a big kitchen with tall cabinets and wide-plank hardwood floors that were bowed from the wet and humidity.

  Together they moved through the bottom floor of the house. Four great big empty rooms with the same wooden floors throughout. Two fireplaces surrounded by handcrafted mantels that had to be a hundred years old. Water stains down the walls and on the ceilings, and branches and leaves scattered across the floor that had blown in the missing windows. The stairway separated the bottom rooms and they went up carefully, wary of rotted steps. Upstairs were four more rooms and more water stains and drip spots on the floors and only one room with its windows remaining. The wind and rain pushed in all the windows not covered with plywood and with a big gust the house moved some and they collectively held their breath. There was no furniture anywhere. A bathroom separated the rooms on the east side and there was a claw-foot tub and two pedestal sinks. Cohen shined the flashlight on the tub and he stopped. Held the light on the curved neck of the faucet.