“Hmm.” I murmured. “I wonder…”
Remembering where my father kept a hidden key, I rushed to the small coat room off to the side. I shined the flash light inside and revealed that it was clear. Like I used to do when I was a little kid, I grabbed the folding chair from behind the door, set it up and used to it to reach the top of the shelf that lined the coat room. At the far back corner, I found the key, right where it was supposed to be. I grabbed it and jumped off the chair. I rushed back to the door and slipped it into the lock. I really didn’t want to open that door, but thinking of Sam, I did.
A cloud of musty air greeted me as I stepped into the sanctuary. Like I was a tardy churchgoer trying to sneak in unnoticed for a Sunday morning service, I crept silently down the main isle between the rows of red pews. I scanned the room and found everything in its proper place. Honestly, I felt as if I walked right into my past on a late Saturday night. There was one difference though, my father’s office was empty.
I finished securing the sanctuary and then went outside to get Sam. “Come on,” I said, “the coast is clear.”
She nodded. “G-G-Good.”
Though she was much healthier then when I first found her, she was still rather light, so I put the shotgun over my shoulder and carried her inside. I gently sat her down on the front pew. I pointed to her injured ankle. “Keep that propped up. I’ll be back in a minute.”
After I locked the doors, I went and grabbed a lighter from the podium on the pulpit and lit the candelabra that were sitting on a nearby table. The candles provided just enough light for us to see.
“I’m going to get you some clothes.” I said handing her an old coat. “In the meantime, use this.”
Sam took the coat and slipped it over her shoulders like it was a poncho. I went to a closet that was located next to my father’s office and pulled out a tub of old clothes. I picked it up and carried it to Sam where I dropped the tub in front of her. “Merry Christmas.”
She looked at me sternly and said with a straight face, “I’m Jewish.”
“Oh…”
She paused then smiled. “Got ya.”
We laughed and Sam reached into the tub, “Where’d you get this stuff?”
I put my hand on my chin, “Saks 5th Avenue, Macy’s, Hollister, Victoria’s Secret. You know all the best places.”
She held out an orange shirt that read Thompson’s Family Reunion 2008. “Something tells me you didn’t get this at Victoria’s Secret.”
“Oh that.” I responded. “We got that at Tiffany’s.”
“Tiffany’s is a jewelry store.”
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I confess, we got it at garage sale. But, the previous owner may have been named Tiffany.”
She laughed.
“Actually, displaced families would occasionally come here looking for help. So, my father kept this tub of clothes just in case they needed it.” I paused. “You hungry? Because he always had food on hand as well.”
I went back to the closet and opened the cupboards. They were bare except for a solitary can of SPAM. I swiped the lonesome can and went back to Sam. “Umm, do you want some SPAM…Sam?”
“Yes, I do Dr. Seuss.”
I chuckled.
She slipped off the old coat. “Just let me get dressed first.”
“Oh, okay.” I turned around.
“No peeking, Blake.”
I won’t lie. Despite the fact that we were in a church, I wanted to look. But I didn’t. I kept myself busy by cutting open the can of SPAM with my pocket knife.
After a few minutes Sam asked, “What do you think?”
I turned around and looked her over. “Thompson’s Family Reunion here we come.” She was wearing the orange shirt and a pair of baggy grey sweats which she had tied tightly around her waist with the draw string. “Do you feel better?” I asked.
“I do,” She answered, “and I kind of want to be a rapper now.”
I smiled. “What do you say you begin your music career after we eat?”
Sam nodded. “Good idea.”
I sat down beside her with the open can of SPAM. “Open your hands.” She did as directed. I sliced the piece of spam in two and dropped her half into her palms. “Enjoy.”
We sat quietly in the sanctuary and ate our humble meal. After we were finished, I turned to Sam. “Sam, did you leave this morning because of what I told you last night?” I asked anxiously. “You know, about what happened to my sister.”
She turned to me. “No, why would I leave because of that?”
I dropped my head and shrugged. “Because…”
She took me by the hand. “Blake, I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. You’ve saved my life twice.” She lifted my chin with a soft touch and peered into my eyes. “I’ve known you for only a short time and I know the kind of man you are. Brave, caring, kind.”
“Then why’d you leave?”
“There’s something I need to tell you, something I’ve kept secret.” She let go of my hands and dropped her head. “I’m like Abbey. I’m diabetic.”
In a flash, it hit me. All the symptoms were there, I was just too blinded by guilt to put it all together.
She continued, “I was planning on telling you, but when you told me what happened to Abbey, I decided against it and that brings us to the reason why I left.”
“Well…”
“I left to go find some insulin.” Sam answered. “I used the last of mine two days ago.”
“You should’ve told me,” I said defiantly, “I would’ve got it for you.”
“I know you would have,” she fired back, “and that’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked back up with watery eyes. “I don’t want someone else dying because of me.”
“I would have known the risks.” I responded. “I’m a man, I make my own choices.”
Sam shook her head. “You don’t get it. I’m the reason those things found us. I’m the reason my mom is dead.” She paused and wiped her tears away with the sleeve of the old coat. “I ran out of insulin, so my mom went to find more. She eventually found some, but those things followed her back to the school.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I kept quiet while she sobbed. Eventually I spoke up.
“I’m sorry Sam.” I put my hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Your Mom sounds like she was a great woman.”
Sam nodded and said tearfully, “She was.”
“At least she loved you enough to risk her life for you.”
Sam wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sure your dad loved you Blake.”
I shook my head, “I thought so, but I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I screwed up his life.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
I leaned up. “My dad had a full ride to play football in Ohio. But, when my mom got pregnant with me, he gave it all up and joined the Marines. Even before all of this, I wondered if he ever thought how different his life would’ve been if I’d never been born. Maybe he would have played professional football. Maybe my mom and him would still be together.” I lowered my voice. “Guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
She didn’t answer because the answer was obvious.
I slumped back against the pew. “You know, when I was younger I would sit in this pew right here and play with my toys while he worked on his sermons. Occasionally, he would play a game with me. He would shout the location of a Bible verse from his office. He’d say “John 3:16” and I would race to that Bible, sitting on that table over there, and look it up. I’d read it aloud and then he’d ask me what I thought it meant. I’d tell him what I thought and he’d usually say something like, “hmm, interesting” and that would be it.” I stopped and sighed. “My dad, John Winters, local hero. I was proud to be his son, but was he proud to be my dad?”
After a pause Sam shouted, “Isaiah 53:8.”
I was perplexed. “What about it?”
“We�
�re playing the game you and your dad used to play.”
“I’m not really interested.”
Sam sighed. “I guess that means I’ll have to look it up.” She painfully stood to her feet and tried to walk. It was all she could do to keep from crying out in pain.
“Sam,” I said finally, “Sit down. I’ll look it up.”
Sam smiled with satisfaction, then gently sat back down. I stood to my feet and walked over to the front of the pulpit, where the Bible sat on a table. Sam shouted from behind me, “Isaiah 53:8.”
“I know.” I answered with annoyance.
That Bible hadn’t been touched in years. I wiped the layer of dust off the cover with my hand and slowly opened it. I read the dedication page. To: The people of Earth. From: God. My father had written those words years ago and when I was a kid, I thought it was the most clever thing ever.
I said to myself, “Isaiah, not far from Psalms,” as I guided my fingers to the middle of the pages and turned them. The book flipped open revealing two envelops tucked neatly inside. I stepped back in disbelief. One was addressed to me and the other to Abbey.
Sam noticed my astonishment. “Blake, what’s wrong?”
I stared at the envelopes. “I…I…there are two envelopes here. One is addressed to me and the other…”
“Blake!” She said excitedly. “It’s from—”
“—My father…”
I gazed at them for another minute before I finally picked them up. Like I was in a daze I walked back to the pew and sat down next to Sam.
“Are you going to open it?” She asked.
I didn’t respond.
She put her hand on my shoulder. “Blake, you have to.”
I nodded reluctantly. “I know.”
I took a deep breath and carefully tore it open. Inside was a letter. I quickly unfolded it and began to read.
Blake,
If you are reading this, I never showed at the lake house and you’ve come looking for me and by the grace of Jesus, you have found this letter. There is so much I want to write and so little time to write it, so I will be brief. However, Son, know that all I write here is from my heart.
At this moment, I am a man of regret. There is so much I should have said when we were together. Sadly, so much more then this paper can hold. I will do my best. I will start at the beginning.
When I found out your mother was pregnant, I locked myself in my room and didn’t come out for days because I was so afraid. You represented the greatest challenge I’d ever face and I doubted my ability to be a good father. By the time you were due to arrive, I was certain I would fail. But you changed that. You don’t know this, but when you were born you weren’t breathing. I watched helplessly while the doctors and nurses worked on you. They did all they could, but stepped away in defeat. The room was in despair, as you were lying still on a little table. Then, after every one had given up hope, you let out the smallest cough, and your tiny chest rose then fell. No one could explain it and I rushed to the table not sure if I believed it myself. When I first looked into your sky blue eyes, I became a believer and I realized in an instant that everything happens for a reason and I had nothing to be afraid of. Blake, you are my miracle. I know that you’ve felt a lot of pressure to be like me, but the truth is, you are already a better man than I was. Helping to bring you into this world will always be the best thing I ever did.
You may doubt God and you may doubt yourself, but even in these dire circumstances I still believe that everything happens for a reason. Every tragedy, every adversity, every success has a purpose. We can never decipher the purpose of events when we are in the midst of them, but there will come a time when all will be revealed to us. Blake, hold on till that time. I know you will. I love you Son.
~ Dad
I was speechless, gazing at the letter, too stunned to even cry.
“Blake…” Said Sam.
I handed her the letter and she read it. When she finished, she threw her arms around me. “You were wrong about him.”
“I know…”
With that admission the tears began to fall. Sam pulled me in and squeezed me tight. Gently stroking my hair, she held me while I mourned the loss of my father. After a few minutes I pulled away from her.
“Thank you, Sam.” I said as I wiped the last tears from my eyes.
Her lips curled into an understanding smile. “Don’t mention it.”
I carefully refolded the letter, placed it back in the envelope and stood to my feet. “Come on, we need to go.”
She nodded.
I tucked my letter and Abbey’s into an inside pocket of my jacket and then picked up Sam. I carried her to the snowmobile. “I’ll be right back.”
I went back inside the Church. Before closing the doors I took one last look at the Sanctuary. I glanced into the darkness of my father’s old office and said softly, “Goodbye Dad.”
I locked the doors and put the secret key back where I found it before hopping on the snowmobile and driving away.
The fog was more dense than before, forcing me to drive slowly. We continued to follow the river, inching closer to our destination.
“How do you know where we are in this fog?” Sam asked over my shoulder.
“I don’t know exactly,” I answered, “but when the river opens wide, we will know we’ve reached the mouth and won’t be far from Little Eagle’s Island.”
Just then the engine began to sputter and we grinded to a stop.
“Crap!” I said. “I bet we’re out of gas.” I climbed off and checked the tank. “Yep.” I sighed in frustration, “Looks like we will have to walk the rest of the way.”
“We?” Asked Sam.
“I mean me.” I answered. “You’re piggy backing it though.” I squatted down a bit and she painfully climbed on my back. “Hold the shot gun for me.” I handed the gun to her and she tossed the strap over her shoulders. “Oh! And don’t forget your bag.”
“I won’t,” she held it tightly, “it has my insulin in it.”
I flipped on my head lamp. “Let’s go.”
With those words, we began the long walk back home. After what seemed like hours of walking Sam spoke in my ear.
“You getting tired yet?”
I lied, “Not one bit.” In reality my legs were burning already. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” I asked.
“Maybe a little.” She answered. After a quiet moment she asked, “Do you ever feel guilty about killing them?”
“At first maybe, but not anymore.”
“Doesn’t it make you sad to think that they were once like us?” She paused. “That man you killed, he probably had a family you know?”
“He probably ate his family.” I said. “They’re not human. All they want is food. They don’t sleep, they don’t get tired, all they do is hunt.” I paused. “They have no remorse, so why I should I have remorse for them?”
For some reason an image of my father floated to the surface of my mind. Sam started to say something but stopped. After a few seconds she whispered, “Did you hear that?”
I stopped. “Hear what?”
Suddenly, a loud wail came from the fog behind us and all at once the woods erupted with the sounds of desperate feet pounding the earth.
“Run!” Screamed Sam.
I charged forward into the fog. I sprinted through the woods, doing my best to avoid the devilish claws of branches and limbs. The horde pursued us with uncanny fury, their moans and cries echoing past my ears.
“Watch out!” Cried Sam.
I tried to stop but crashed through a small wooden fence, falling forward and getting a mouth full of melting snow. Sam was thrown from my back and rolled to a stop a few feet in front of me. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to pick her up.
Sam pointed behind us. “My bag!”
I turned around and quickly grabbed it, then stumbled forward. The horde was not far behind and gaining on us. Breathing heavily with my legs threatening to give way, I p
ushed forward.
We can’t be far. We can’t.
“They’re catching up!” Sam cried.
I moved closer to the river and mumbled in desperation. “Help us Lord…please!”
The cries and shrieks of the horde grew louder, closer. Like each foot was sealed in concrete I took one heavy step after another. My vision blurred and the fog seemed to twirl around me, but I pressed on. Despite my best effort, I began to slow down and Sam noticed.
“Just let me go.” Pleaded Sam. “Let me go.”
“No!”
“There’s still time Blake,” she fired back, “you can save yourself.”
I gathered my strength and said forcefully, “No! I will never leave you!” I let out a yell and strained forward. My pace quickened and my stride lengthened. Still it was not enough to put distance between us and them. Eventually I slipped on some ice and crashed to the ground exhausted. I rolled onto my back as the darkness caved in around me.
All went silent…
Then I heard a voice and felt someone tugging at me. “Blake! Get up!”
It was Sam. She pulled me to a seated position.
I turned my head slowly. “Go Sam…I’ll hold them off.”
She touched me softly on the lips. “No…” A tear streamed down her left cheek. “We’re in this together.”
I struggled to my feet and helped Sam to hers. As the horde burst from the fog like a tidal wave and pressed forward against us, we embraced…
15
Was it a miracle? I don’t know, but with a sudden thunderous crack the earth below the horde gave way, for it was not earth at all, but ice and plunged them into the freezing cold water. They shrieked and moaned, clawing desperately at each other in a vain attempt to stay afloat. It was no use, in a matter of seconds the horde was gone and the woods was silent once again.
Sam and I didn’t say a word to each other, we just stared at the dark, tranquil water in astonishment. Unbeknownst to us, we had reached the very edge of Little Eagle Island and that few feet of land had saved us from joining our pursuers at the bottom of the lake.
The Lonely Living Page 8