The Shadow of Armageddon

by LeMay, Jim

The older boy, Buck, became deadly serious. “We don’ know zac’ly what happened, but we know you-all got a price on your head. Chadwick hisself come up the river with a bunch a men lookin’ for you last week. Come t’ Kane’s Cove. Told Pap they figgered he might a seen you-all bein’ as how he’s on the river a lot.”

  “Whadda y’ mean, a price on our head?” asked Mitch.

  “Chadwick said he’d pay fifty ens a head. Said you stole a bunch a his money an’ run off with his sister an’ killt some a his men.”

  “Sounds like we been purty busy,” said Stony. “I don’t rec’lect doin’ all that though.”

  “I’m kinda pissed we ain’t worth more,” said Doc. “At least a hunnert.”

  “We been on the river lookin’ for you-all ever sence Chadwick come ’roun’,” said Willard. “They went up the river last week,” he pointed in the direction from which they had come, “so they’ll be comin’ back down afore long. If you-all was on the river, we figgered t’ git y’ off afore that happened.”

  “Pap just the same as told ’m t’ fuck off,” said Buck, “an’ told ’m t’ git off’n his property. Can you ’magine tellin’ Chadwick that? Chadwick told Pap he better not hear we was hidin’ you-all.”

  “Buck an’ me,” said Willard, “an’ some a the boys wanted t’ go after ’m, but Pap wouldn’t let us.”

  “Your Pap was right,” said Mitch. “They’s too many of ’m. But let’s quit jawin’ an’ git off the river. Them rafts is about t’ swamp the rest a us, an’ Chadwick could decide to come back home ’long here any time.”

  Less than an hour later they reached the mouth of the Grange River, a much smaller stream that fed the great Missouri. Then the hard work began. The Missouri’s current had carried them this far. Now they had to pole the rafts and row the boats against the smaller stream’s current. Buck and Willard hid their canoe in the underbrush, saying they’d come back for it later, and helped push the lead raft up the Grange through the shallows along the west bank. John joined them, waist-deep in water, ever ready to show his worth to the gang.

  The wind dropped, and though it remained overcast, the humid warmth grew with the morning until, within a half hour, everybody had shed outer garments and was sweating profusely. John’s hands were raw, and his back ached. His body was encased in mud up to his ass and with sweat and grime from there up. His opinion of river travel flipped diametrically. It had to be the most excruciating way to get around imaginable. Even wheeling the carts through the mud and rain hadn’t been as miserable. Buck’s, Willard’s, and John’s efforts at pushing the lead raft were successful. After awhile the gap between the two rafts widened significantly until the younger gang members began to push the second one.

  John was a little distrustful of the Kane brothers at first. Their hair was long and tangled, though they tried to keep it in place in loose ponytails bound at the napes of their necks, and their buckskin clothes were wrinkled and greasy. They smelled of sweat and other disagreeable but less definable odors. Though they worked at pushing the boats with tenacity, they kept an almost steady stream of good-natured banter going between them, sometimes splashing each other or smacking each other on the shoulder.

  They started teasing John about being so quiet and standoffish until they got him laughing and horse-playing with them. When he found out that they’d been on the river looking for them for five days, he decided they had the right to look a little unkempt. Before long he came to feel comfortable around them.

  During one of their rare breaks, Buck told John that if a person walked in a straight line from the Missouri River to their cove he could make it in a little over an hour and a half. The river meandered so, however, and the rafts were so heavy to pole and push that John judged that their trip up the Grange must have taken that long already and they were less than half-way there. He wasn’t good at judging time in hours, though, not having been raised in a world where clocks were commonplace. He thought of time in increments of a day: a half day, a whole day, from dawn until midmorning.

  They saw no signs of people, but once they glimpsed a large deserted town across the river some distance to the east that Buck said had been called Braunsweig. He said a lightning fire destroyed much of the town just after the Last Days. That worried the fifty or so survivors about future fires so much that they built a new community just north of the town. The Kanes traded and visited with them on occasion.

  And finally they were there.

  The cove was on the west side of the Grange, a short distance upstream of the deserted town. It was fairly large, but almost completely full of rafts, at least twenty, most of them occupied by frame houses or sheds. They were arranged in what appeared to be a haphazard manner and linked by wooden walkways. At least one of the rafts was connected to the south bank of the cove. John saw some dry land among the rafts, toward the back, an island or maybe a peninsula jutting out from the cove’s bank.

  The water in the cove was too deep for Buck, Willard, and John to continue pushing so they clambered up on the lead raft. Several dogs appeared on the nearest rafts in the cove to bark and wag their tails in greeting. As they approached the largest and nearest raft-house, a young woman in her late teens emerged from it. When she saw the little flotilla, she waved and searched the faces earnestly. Buck stood up, waved, and called, “Verbena!” When she saw him she practically jumped up and down as she waved and called his name out ecstatically, then turned and called to someone inside the house.

  “Y’d think they hadn’t seen each other in a month,” said Willard, rolling his eyes. The main raft was held high out of the water by the metal drums it floated on. Most of the other rafts were built in a similarly substantial-looking fashion. The raft-house was long and rambling, easily the largest one in sight. It completely covered the raft except for a narrow bit of the deck, bounded by a low railing, all the way around it. The deck was a little wider at the end where the young woman stood, forming a kind of porch. A small woman with graying hair followed by a group of children of various ages joined her from the house. The older woman and the children waved as the craft approached.

  When they reached the main raft, the men roped their craft fast to special handles provided for that purpose. As soon as the craft were secure, Mitch led John up the steps to the porch and introduced him to the gray-haired lady, Ms. Kane; the young woman, Verbena; and those of the children whose names he could remember. Ms. Kane radiated an aura of serenity and dignity that made John feel welcome before she said a word.

  “I’m very glad to meet you, Ma’am,” said John, and he really meant it. He liked her immediately.

  “And I you, John,” she replied with a cherubic smile that brought dimples to her cheeks. “I hope you haven’t let Hank Mitchell work you too hard. He prob’ly starved you to death too. I’ll see that you don’t go to bed empty t’night.” Then looking at Mitch with an arched brow, “You’re recruitin’ ’m awful young, Hank.”

  “Well, he ain’t exactly a recruit, Hanna. I’ll tell y’ ’bout it direc’ly.”

  The men all spoke their greetings from the rafts, and Ms. Kane said hello to them in turn. As she looked them over, she said with concern, “I see some missin’ faces here, Hank, so I reckon we’ll have quite a bit to talk about.”

  “‘Fraid so. For now though, Hanna, if y’d be so kind, we’d like t’ just go straight t’ the bathhouse. We’re too much a mess t’ come in t’ the house like this.”

  “Be our guest, Hank.” She called down to those on the raft, “Good to see you boys again. Take your time and rest a bit. And Lou Travis, I got a big mug a lager in there with your name on it.”

  “You’re a saint among women, Hanna,” his big voice boomed back. John saw that Ms. Kane had impressed the other men as she had him. Those who still owned hats had removed them.

  “Where is ever’body, Hanna?” asked Mitch as he followed John down the steps.

  “Mostly in the fields shockin’ corn. Usually we’re through by this time a
year but we had a wet spring so the plantin’ got done late. Don’t worry, you’ll see ’m all at supper.” She laughed. “Nobody ’round here misses any meals. ’Cept for Billy. He’s still out lookin’ for you.”

  Bathing took awhile. With Buck and Willard they numbered eleven and there were only six bathtubs so they had to bathe in two shifts. They didn’t mind though; it felt pleasant to soak in the hot soapy water, the worst of their journey behind them, and talk of the trip. John was a little intimidated at first because he had never been naked around other people, but he decided that if he were going to be part of the gang he’d have to behave as they did.

  With a pang he realized that he wouldn’t be a member much longer since Mitch intended to leave him with the Kanes. He didn’t yet know how he felt about that, but he had no say about it in any case.

  After their baths were finished, the men went back to the main house. They entered a large room that comprised about two-thirds of it and served as kitchen, dining room, and living room. It was warm and bright and noisy like Buck and Willard. Long tables flanked by benches dominated the center of the room. Against the walls were homemade and scrounged cabinets, shelves, benches, and small tables. None of them matched, and none of the items they held, ranging from kitchen utensils to knickknacks to tools to clothing, seemed to be placed in any kind of order. What little wall space remained was covered with pictures and posters. Despite the huge size of the room, the clutter around the walls made it seem filled to capacity, yet comfortably homey. At the far end of the room was a great stone fireplace with a door on either side of it, presumably leading to adjoining rooms. A sofa and four comfortable-looking chairs formed a semicircle before the fireplace. Wonderful smells issued from pots simmering over the fire. The effect of all this was at once cluttered and comfortable.

  Ms. Kane and three of the older girls, including Verbena, worked by the fireplace and at a table near it preparing dinner. When the men entered, she bade them to sit and tell her what had happened. She and Verbena served the men mugs of beer and one of apple juice for John.

  “You gotta to tell me what’s goin’ on,” she said. “Even though you’ll have to tell it to Billy all over again when he gits back. We’ve heard rumors that we know can’t possibly be true because it ain’t like you guys. We been plenty worried.”

  Mitch asked Matt to give the account because he was best at speaking. So Matt told of the ambush; their flight first to the culvert and then to Newcastle; how they avoided Chadwick’s men, led by Matheson, when they came to town; their truck-gathering in Newcastle; and the trip down the Missouri to where they met Buck and Willard.

  “The only reason we can figger for the ambush,” said Mitch, “was because a that time they tried t’ steal our truck in Kansas City an’ failed. He musta wanted t’ git even with us for that.”

  The only part left untold, the most important but the part they dare not tell, was the theft of Chadwick’s gold. Though Billy had been one of the select group to hear about the failed hold-up attempt by Chadwick in Kansas City, no one outside the gang knew of the gold theft.

  After the gang finished their story and the conversation turned more general, Willard lost interest in it and asked John if he wanted to look around the cove. John agreed; the conversation was boring him too. And he was getting sleepy. The exertion of the last week was catching up to him, and the fireplace made the room too warm. A walk outdoors might revive him.

  The cooler air outside did just that. He asked Willard what the decoration on the door was for. He had noticed it when they first arrived and when they returned from the bathhouse. It was a round structure about a foot across, woven of willow branches and decorated with flowers and leaves in such a way that it looked strangely like a face, especially if you looked at it from a distance. Not a human face but one like he had often enjoyed imagining that he saw in certain configurations of leaves and branches in trees and thickets.

  Willard laughed. “That’s Mom’s Green Man. He’s there for good luck.”

  “Green Man?”

  “Yeah, Mom’s a Gaian. You don’t know what a Gaian is? That’s a religion. Or, accordin’ t’ Mom, more a way a lookin’ at things, being in tune with nature. Mom says some Gaians b’lieve in gods that live in the woods an’ cricks but she don’t.”

  “What’s the Green Man if he’s not a god?”

  “Oh, he’s just for fun. She’s got lots a other little nature trinkets she makes inside on the shelves, but none of ’m are gods. They’re all just for fun.”

  Willard led him around to the back of the houseboat. Attached to it by two walkways and several cables was a raft bare of any structure, though surrounded by a low wall. “That’s where we party. Nobody throws a party like Pap. Folks come from miles away.”

  Beyond this raft, all the way to the northern, western, and southern banks of the cove, lay the maze of rafts. Willard led John along the decks around the buildings and over the sometimes swaying walkways between the rafts. He pointed out the tannery, the brewhouse, the distillery, the tack shed, grain stores, houses occupied by the married couples, barracks for the kids. Most of the doors bore some variation of the Green Man. Toward the back of the settlement they came to the land John had seen from further out in the cove, which was indeed an island. It had once, Willard explained, been a peninsula attached to the cove’s bank. Billy had long ago cut a channel separating it from the mainland, to which it was now attached by a bridge.

  “Why dig a ditch,” asked John, “and then replace it with a bridge?”

  Willard laughed; he always seemed to have a laugh handy. Buck was the more serious of the two but not by much. “See the corrals an’ stables an’ barns on the island? We keep the livestock there at night. We take the middle part a the bridge up ever’ night so nobody can git acrosst from the land.”

  “Where are they now, the livestock?”

  “At pasture. Y’ can see some of ’m over yonder.” He pointed to a ridge on the mainland. John could see horses and cattle, diminished by the distance, grazing on its slope. Stubbled fields ringed the flatter land between the cove and the slope.

  They came to a large raft anchored next to the island, isolated from the other rafts. The building on it was almost as large as the main house. John asked what it was for. “That’s Pap’s office,” said Willard. “He’s a land surveyor.”

  John didn’t know what a land surveyor was, but it was apparent that Billy Kane was a very busy man. The gang members had described Billy as a scrounger who also ran a farm large enough to feed his little community with enough left over to sell.

  “Why do you all live here on these rafts?” asked John. “Why not on the shore?”

  “Pap an’ Mom use t’ live yonder,” said Willard, pointing to the top of the ridge above where the livestock grazed. John saw the ruins of several buildings. “That was back when I was a little kid. But they was raided a couple times by assholes from the city. Pap finally said enough was enough. He built his first raft in this cove and moved us onto it. An’ moved the livestock onto the peninsula. Then as they found more a us, he built more rafts an’ houses.”

  “Found more of you?”

  Willard grinned. “Yeah. Mom an’ Pap ain’t our real folks. They found us when we was little kids. Orphans. Our folks was dead. Me an’ Buck was the first, an’ we’re the oldest. We ain’t really brothers, but folks say we look and act alike. I don’t hardly remember my own folks. I don’t even remember my last name, just that they called me Willard. I think I had a older sister, but she must a died too. Buck an’ me, we call ourselves Kane. Most of us do. It don’t hurt none t’ have Wild Billy as a Pap.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Forty-some. An’ a few grown-ups that’ve joined us over the years. Some of ’m got kids a their own.”

  Then a bell rang from the house. “Supper time,” said Willard. “I’m ready, too!”

  The room must have been crowded enough for regular meals, but the addition of t
he gang completely filled it. No one seemed to mind. A lot of the smaller children sat on the odd bit of clear floor to eat.

  Dinner was a noisy, bustling affair. Everyone seemed to talk at once, making conversation a general clatter, punctuated at times by laughter or a shriek or howl from one of the younger children. The general chaos bewildered and somewhat dismayed John. He had never been around large groups of people, or groups of any size that all talked at once. Ms. Kane maintained her serenity throughout. She moved busily around the room, filling plates for the smaller children, separating potential young combatants, once kissing a little hand that had sustained a minor burn, chiding the older kids if they took food before passing it to the gang members. She didn’t fill a plate for herself until everyone was seated and eating.

  John had never seen or smelled such a variety of foods at one sitting, nor such a quantity, compared to the frugal meals to which he was accustomed. There was cured ham and sidemeat, fresh corn on the cob and a variety of other vegetables. There was quail, and eggs fixed a way he had never tasted before that they called “deviled”. The bread was delicious, as was the fresh creamy butter. The last cow in Newcastle had died two years before so it had been a long time since he had tasted butter. He had forgotten how much he liked it. There were little honey-filled cakes for dessert. John was so full he could scarcely eat one.

  After dinner was finished and the tables cleared, the gang members wandered outside, their goal the brewhouse where they intended to meet some of the married men of the community. The couples didn’t join the Kanes for meals very often but they went to the brewhouse on some evenings and the gang wanted to ask them about markets in the area. Ms. Kane and some of the older girls bustled the younger children out of the main house, probably to get them ready for bed.

  John suddenly found himself alone, surrounded by welcome silence. He settled into one of the big comfortable chairs and kicked his shoes off, suddenly very tired and a little sore from all the work of the last few days. The chair suddenly reminded him of the one at home, though this one was in better condition. He remembered when, long ago, he sat in his mother’s lap in that chair, listening to her reading aloud or just talking. He would never hear her soft voice, her quiet laugh, ever again. He felt tears well up and didn’t even try to stop them when they overflowed. A woman’s tranquil voice spoke through his drowsiness. He felt fingers brush away his tears. As the world of dreams slipped over him, he was again snuggled on his mother’s lap, soothed by her gentle murmur, comforted by her hand on his cheek.