Journey By Fire

by Bruce W. Perry

  "Eggs…" Wade said dreamily, chewing and swallowing vigorously. "I could go for some of those…" He'd already wolfed down most of his food.

  "And cheese!" Wiley exclaimed.

  "How many of them?"

  "I'd say about half a dozen families…about two dozen…"

  "And you say they're friendly? They didn't mind seeing you?"

  "Can't say they weren't hiding. We were lucky to find 'em. Jonesy pulled the raft over, because we were going to navigate the river and look for you guys. We never did give up hope. We thought we might find some food too, then that storm came. Javi and Carmen went up the river apiece, looking for a way to get to the top of the canyon with the dog, to look for Pepe. I have to say…Carmen was stricken with grief…thought she was going to do herself in…"

  "I can imagine that…"

  "You done a really good thing, you know, saving that child."

  Wade only nodded. He thought of Kara, and the complex journey that lay ahead, the uncountable miles of desolate land, and his own needle-in-a-haystack chances of rescuing her. It made him feel less of a hero.

  "Good Karma, you know," Wiley added.

  "How do you mean?" Wade was now scraping the bottom of the pan and sucking on the spoon.

  "You earned positive points for the Great Hereafter…"

  "What I need is better luck here on solid ground, the rest of the way."

  "That too…"

  Wade stood up. "My backpack here? Oh Jesus, great!" He saw it leaning on a box and strode quickly to it. He felt renewed and pulled back together, if still mangy and famished. He began to search through it for the essentials: his pistol and ammo; maps, head lamp and flashlight; extra clothes, boots, medical supplies, the Bible, and its contents. It was all there; he picked the pack up and put it on, just to feel it there again. Along with his boony hat.

  "Going somewhere already?" Wiley said.

  "No. Are the others coming back soon?"

  Wiley scratched the prickly beard on his chin. "Not sure. I believe the plan was to stay with those folks; they have food and shelter. And use the slot canyon as a launching pad to search for you guys, but now that we've found yah…"

  "We should go and tell Javi and Carmen…hey Pepe!" The kid wandered out from behind the enclosure that encompassed the cockpit. "Had enough to eat?" The boy quietly nodded, and Wade noted that Pepe's stomach was slightly distended.

  Wade wasn't looking forward to another hike, after what they'd been through, but he felt obligated to finally return the child to his parents. He'd had a short but deep sleep, as in total unconsciousness.

  "No use doddling," he said. "Let's go."

  The drought had reduced the Escalante to a meandering brown stream. It left them plenty of riverbank to hike on. Out of pure paranoia–he didn't want to lose his possessions as quickly as he'd found them–Wade wore the backpack. He felt relieved and back on track; on a path, if a skewed one, that might take him to Kara.

  They wandered over the dried wafers and smooth stones of the parched riverbank. You could see the white sulfate stains of the prior river height on the canyon walls. The desert sun seemed to have burned out any shreds of clouds. Wade quickly became intensely thirsty, even though he had come away from ladling the stored water out of the raft's container and guzzling it down, so that it dribbled down his cheeks.

  In his haste to fetch the others, he hadn't brought much more than a small water bottle, which he'd stuffed into the pack's side pocket.

  The canyon rims around them were just as bleak and dizzying as they were upstream. The walls were bleached nearly white, like the color of desert bones.

  They let Pepe straggle a bit behind, as there seemed to be no danger of flash floods or vile strangers, at least not yet. He padded amongst the rocks, picking some of them up and throwing them into the river. Wade thought it would be good for Pepe to experience a little mindless play.

  Wiley took them into a narrow passage where the rocks had been smoothed into sculptural shapes and the water took on an emerald color, reflecting slants of piercing light from above. The walls formed natural coves and sitting areas, the smoothed geological shapes seeming impossibly natural and artful.

  "These are the famous slot canyons of Glen Canyon," Wiley murmured. Wade had heard of them; they used to be flooded by Lake Powell, which now was drying up at a record pace. The drought had revealed the side canyons once more; now people were rediscovering and living amongst them, apparently, like the ancients once had.

  The canyon was more like a small, spotless chamber now; a holy place.

  "How far are they?"

  "Not far," Wiley spoke back, his voice echoing.

  Wade reached out and touched the rock, which was a pink color and shiny with tiny particles embedded in it. Any piece of it could be made into jewelry, and that made him think of Phoebe. He'd been really close to her, for a short period of time.

  "How's Phoebe?"

  "Surviving, like the rest of us," Wiley called back. "She really likes this place," he added, looking around.

  "How do you mean?"

  "I mean this little tribe we've found. I think she could join them."

  Wade didn't say anything. He suddenly realized he didn't want to lose her, too. It made him feel more lost; emptied out. He promised himself to convince her to stay with them. They'd miss her spry pluckiness; her pure spirit.

  They walked quietly, then let Pepe catch up. Wade allowed himself moments of fascination in that amazing place. Then a spicy admixture met his nose, like heavily marinated meat on a grill.

  "That smells good," he said. "We must be close…they're cooking."

  "And something else too," Wiley said. He'd stopped walking and was looking up the stream; it seemed to open up into another amphitheater, blasted by sunlight. "They're smoking the silly stuff."

  "You mean weed?"

  "Yeah. Just about everyone I've talked to is high as a kite, and with gentle spirits too. I think they're eating the desert mushrooms, and smoking great stuff from south of this border. In fact I might indulge myself if offered. I could use a break."

  "You mean they're surviving here stoned?" Wade was convinced, by experience, that one needed to have razor-sharp wits to escape calamity and death in these regions, formerly known as the American West.

  "Yeah, as far as I've seen. I'll take that over the crazies, and their rotgut, meth amphetamines, and whatever else they're sticking into their veins, any day. I think the mellow hallucinogenics are part of their religion, their cult, whatever they have going here."

  Then through the piercing sunshine, Wade could see a man; a slim form, shirtless, long dark hair and beard, waving at them. He stood along the shoreline of the meagre Escalante.

  "That's Rick," Wiley said. "Kind of the leader…sweet on Phoebe by the way…"

  Oh no, Wade thought. Prying her away was going to be difficult. Against his will, being older and married, he felt this Rick guy's presence as almost hostile competition for Phoebe. He felt it as jealousy.

  When they reached him, Rick came forward. He had a big smile and a welcome vibe. He looked like some depictions of Jesus.

  "I'm Wade…" He stuck out his hand.

  "Rick!" Rick gave Wade the Brah handshake and half hug that all the athletes were doing before the United States fell apart.

  "So great…" Wade said. "To run into a friendly crowd. Strangers who don't pose a threat, if you know what I mean…"

  "No worries," Rick said softly. "Everything's cool." He had a kind of hazy detachment, a lazy confidence. Stoned, Wade thought. He also reeked, the odor being sweet and not unpleasant. Rick was skinny, with knotted muscles and long lithe limbs. He was built and tanned like an agricultural worker.

  "We've seen you guys coming for a long time," he said, nodding his head upwards. Wade looked up, and along the ridge line he could see the forms of maybe half a dozen men and women with what seemed bows and arrows. Wade was pleased himself to be back with his own crossbow.

 
"We're not that loosey-goosey," Rick said, suddenly revealing his higher place on the pecking order. "But I want to tell you now, upfront, that this place is about love and community and family…rebuilding, and that you're welcome here. You can stay here as long as you want. We've heard all about you already…you're good people we hear…"

  From who? Wade thought, until he heard Pepe erupt, "Mommy! Daddy!" Both Rick and Wade turned their heads. Javi and Carmen, with Phoebe not far behind, were running up the shoreline towards them. Then the Santiago's were three people in a bustling huddle, with hugs and tears of joy. For Wade, it was a rare moment of timeless humanity, all so rare those days. They were a family reunited. His chin quivered with emotion.

  Phoebe leapt up and down and was all over them with more eager joy. She hugged Wade; he stayed in that position for a moment, because it felt good. Then he realized how dirty and unkempt he was, a river rat, and he stood back, almost embarrassed.

  "I thought you might be drowned, you crazy beautiful idiot," she said, smiling exuberantly. I guess I know what you've been smoking, Wade thought. The aroma was in her hair, along with the wonderful scent of wild flowers she seemed to always carry.

  "Well, we were a little lucky. I guess it was just meant to be, all us getting together again…" The emotional outpouring taking place had exhausted his spent reserves, all over again. He stepped back to the river's edge to give Phoebe the space to greet and hug Pepe.

  "Pepe, you little devil," she said gleefully. "Pint-sized muffin, come here to Aunt Phoebe! Where did you go? We looked all over for you!"

  "In the river…at night…" he said, with a hint of mystery.

  "Is that so? Well!" Phoebe stood with her arms crossed, miming a schoolmarm. Carmen was still crying and wiping her cheeks with her hands and showering an embarrassed Pepe with kisses.

  "Is everybody hungry?" Phoebe said.

  "You bet."

  "We have food on the fire," she crowed, with what Wade thought was a holiday spirit. She sure was happy here, and sleeping and eating well, he thought. "Vittles!" she added, and they all started walking deeper into the amphitheater where Wade saw flames leaping against a pink wall, and a small crowd of people hanging around.

  The atmosphere was one of atavism and wonder; someone played one of those Peruvian piped flutes, and another gently and steadily beat a drum. A wine pouch, he thought, was being passed around. A big pot of food, some kind of porridge or stew, brewed. He wanted to fill his stomach again, be part of all this, and sleep.

  Amazement flowed through him; the people seemed like prehistoric humans, too content to realize how decayed and perilous the world had become. He was struck by the beauty of the place itself, bathed in the preternatural light that filtered through the narrow canyons. The smooth rock funneled a nice breeze over the shallow pools that branched off in another direction.

  At some point, and soon, he would have to leave all this. He found himself standing next to Jonesy. They shook hands, and they sat down to listen to the music and eat.

  "What's next?" Wade asked. He shifted in his seat. "We keep going down the Colorado? Glen Canyon Dam is coming up."

  "Or what's left of it."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "The Glen Canyon Dam is breached, they tell me. It's no more. It wasn't producing power, because Lake Powell dropped too low. The lake's almost dried up. The Dam isn't manned anymore and some gang blew a hole in it. From what I've heard, it's a giant white elephant."

  "Wow, so what's the river like beyond it? That's the Grand Canyon. The breach must have still released a lot of water into it. The river must be moving faster through there." Wade bent over into his backpack and pulled out his southwestern map. He felt his spirit move faster, going south, toward his goal.

  "Not sure me, you, or anyone else wants to keep going past Glen Canyon."

  "Why? What do you hear?"

  "You think this is a no man's land? It's all shot to hell down in Arizona."

  "What about Lake Mead, the Hoover Dam, Vegas…" Lake Mead had been formed by the Hoover Dam, and Vegas "drank" from the lake. Someone passed them both wooden bowls of the stew, and they began wolfing it down greedily. With their beards, and the recently acquired, starving, uncouth natures, they looked like a couple of farmers in the Dark Ages, Wade thought. The men were all bearded and scrawny.

  "Lake Mead is dried up more than Powell–that straw from Vegas has gone bone dry. That's what the folks here tell me. Seems more than one of them came north from there. They say that Vegas, what's left of it, has become a miserable chaos, a burning, decadent wasteland."

  Sounds like a more violent version of what Vegas used to be…Wade thought.

  "Not even the regime will go in there," Jonesy continued. "Crazy Land…maybe the regime is contemplating nuking it from orbit…"

  "Oh…" The hollow drum beat more ominously in the background. Wade was disappointed; he thought at least he'd have a water route. He thought he could keep going down the Colorado.

  He stopped chewing. "So you're saying you're probably not going to keep going."

  "I promised you folks I'd go as far as the Glen Canyon Dam. I'll hold to that promise; I gave you my word. But then I'll probably scuttle her…or sell her if I can…and make my way back here. Ain't nothin' for me down there in that desert hell-hole. Can't say what the Santiago's plan to do. If I was them, I'd stay here…maybe there's a future…"

  Where are they getting their food? Wade thought, then Jonesy read his mind.

  "Can't see how they can continue cultivation here though–no soil to speak of, water's drying up…oh well beggar's can't be choosers…" He resumed shoveling the bowl's contents into his mouth.

  Wade looked down at his map. He followed the squiggly line of the Colorado River past Glen Canyon, and he could see that it actually went due West of southern Arizona, where Sierra Vista and Kara were. The pitiable Colorado ended up reduced to a littered trickle, or simply mud-flats, once it reached the California coast.

  A land-locked route into Arizona was a far more direct route to Sierra Vista. He looked up at the calm, convivial group, and they seemed to exist on another planet; not the increasingly uninhabitable one he'd gotten to know. He wouldn't begrudge them their contentment. But his mind raced ahead with the necessities of his own plans.

  CHAPTER 27

  All the things he didn't want to happen came to pass. Jonesy began to even reconsider going as far as the defunct Glen Canyon Dam. Phoebe loitered around Rick longingly, expressing too much unqualified fondness than Wade could stand. It was puppy-dog love, yet the times were too unsafe to let her emotions run wild, he thought.

  The Santiagos were uncommitted about going as far as Nicaragua, as their transportation literally began to dry up.

  Wade sat off to the side on a small rock, petting Pequeño by the river. He thought the dog was getting too scrawny, like the rest of them. The fish had been good but they hadn't gotten any in 24 hours; the dog was forced by hunger to lick the rice-dominated gruel they all were eating. Tough bits of lizard meat would show up in the stew, like chewy, hidden prizes.

  It was morning in the canyon. They'd made coffee, but no one had awoken with the sun like he had. He was barefoot and he let his feet lay in the cool river, truly a stream now, on top of some smooth rocks. The water had been cooled by a brief evening shower out on the desert. Pequeño lapped at it, then wandered over to sit closer to him. He pet its scruffy head and felt sorry for the pooch, who was trapped in the same world they were. The dog's eyes were plaintive, and carried the same uncertainty he did in his heart.

  "You're right Pequeño. We don't know where we're going, or what we're doing."

  He gazed over his own legs, which were bony and covered in undifferentiated bruises and scratches. He'd used the propylene glycol in his kit to disinfect one of the nastier ones, then bandage it up. At least infections didn't thrive in this sun-blasted habitat, he pondered, but the dangers of the desert lurked ahead.

  A noise b
ehind startled him, and he quickly grabbed his nearby crossbow and stood up, nearly upending the cherished coffee cup, and spooking Pequeño. But it was only a young woman with long brown hair leading two wide-eyed infants to behind a rock. She was probably going to clean them up.

  She smiled at him beneficently; her graceful, prepossessed manner and the silence of the morning had almost convinced Wade to stay with this group.

  He thought of his own wife and children. It made him sad and wistful; the ordinary things they used to do together. A glass of wine with Lee on two chairs he placed outside with a sunset view of meadows and mountains. Drawing down a shade and sleeping heedlessly late in the cool darkness of a Sunday morning. Going to Little League games with his son Shane. Making love to Lee after they'd both gotten tipsy. He regretted the losses, but he admired these slot-canyon people, mingled with an acute sense of their naivete, for trying to recapture the old ways.

  ###

  Jonesy and Wade got ready to leave. The early morning had passed. People had begun to stir, including Carmen and Javi. Wade saw them across the tiny river, with Pequeño trotting along the shoreline. It was just a question of who was coming with them, going south following the remainder of the river upstream of the dam. Wade thanked Rick, who'd walked over to the riverside where Wade packed his things.

  "You sure you don't want to stay?" Rick asked. His tone suggested that Wade was insane for leaving. "Plenty of room…"

  "Yeah. You see I'm looking for someone…my daughter. I'm needed elsewhere."

  "I understand."

  Phoebe wandered up and took Rick's hand. This was a definite development, Wade thought. She was introspective; far less bubbly, as if just realizing that part of her gang were leaving for good.

  "Are you going now?" she said softly.

  This was a turning point; her voice reflected that she understood. In this frayed world, people weren't very mobile anymore; goodbye usually meant goodbye for good.

  "I decided to stay," she added.

  Rick turned and smiled at her. They had a newlywed couples' sappiness, Wade thought. He looked away, not conferring his approval. Obviously, he wanted Phoebe to come. In a way, they needed her energy and presence for the rest of the voyage. He was beyond disappointed.