Jake’s rudimentary grave was next on this grim tour. God, I couldn’t have imagined the turn of events that would see two of my friends buried in my own back forty. I lowered myself to the ground, wincing as my injured leg protested. When the throbbing ceased I reached out and patted the earth that covered Jake.
“How come you knew so much, Jake?” I wished I could have asked him personally. God, did I wish. “Miss you, buddy.” I took a few more moments to smooth over the dirt and left it at that. What else could I say? He was a friend who had played a much larger role in my life than I could have imagined.
I got up carefully and moved eastward to the shack. I had to confront the memory of Jake’s death. The sun hit the path intermittently through the ravaged tree-tops, and branches littered the forest floor.
The shed was still standing. I turned the corner, half expecting to see him sitting on his sacred ground. Coincidentally, his spot was getting all of the sun. I smiled: he knew, he knew so much.
*****
After supper, we all prepared the three voyageurs for their long trip. At least we assumed it would be long. Honestly, we hadn’t the slightest clue just how far they’d need to travel before seeing something worth mentioning.
“Without wheels we’ll probably make about twenty kilometres a day. That’ll put us near Elle Lake by Friday,” Fred guessed. Though we had vehicles to spare, we agreed that to send them on foot would not only save gasoline but make their presence less detectible.
“We’ll be fine,” Sonny said as he pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. “It’s all a matter of picking our battles.”
“That’s ironic coming from you,” Earl laughed.
They departed with an air of confidence about them. Watching them recede from view, I only hoped that this angel we had created would watch over them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Later that evening, Kevin decided to paint a ‘Last Supper’ that depicted the twelve of us as Jesus and the Apostles in a parody of Da Vinci’s classic masterpiece.
“I’m not sure who will represent who yet. It’s something I’d planned to do last summer, but with all that happened, I never started it. Anyway, this is the canvas I’ll use.” He pulled the piece from his portfolio case and set it on his easel.
“Sounds interesting,” Sara commented. “Who’ll be the Christ figure, I wonder?”
“Good question,” I said. “Kev?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he grinned.
“You?” she wondered, furrowing her brow.
“Me? No! I think it’ll be the angel. I can’t come up with anyone else who’s that close to God, except Joel.”
I was embarrassed and laughed it off. Sara did not.
“You know, that’s the most twisted thing.” She was not kidding. “You honestly picture Joel as the Christ?”
“Don’t get all hot and bothered, Sara. I said it was going to be the angel, not Joel. It’s just a painting, for fuck sakes!”
“Alright, that’s enough of that.” I attempted to end the conversation before it escalated into an argument.
“Look at you, Joel.” Her voice cracked. “You like it, don’t you? You like that your friends think of you like that.”
“Easy!” Irritation crept into my voice. “Go easy, Sara, you know I haven’t let any of this go to my head.”
“Be sure that it doesn’t.” With that said, she took her leave. Further within the house, a door slammed.
“She’s got to let up on the whole religion thing, man.” Kev, still flustered, lit a cigarette. “We don’t know what it is we’re dealing with.”
“I used to think that too.” I gazed out the window while I spoke. “But this angel thing, it’s got me thinking.”
Without even thinking, I picked up the pipe from the bar and lit a toke for myself. Kev watched in amazement, wondering whether I’d changed the rules about getting messed up on duty.
Before he had a chance to say anything though, Sara returned for the twelve to four shift and saw the state I was in. She assisted me to my room. As she tucked me under the covers I smiled, overwhelmed by my love for her. I’d hit a high with her at the lowest point in my life, in all of our lives. I only wished that the others had what Sara and I possessed.
*****
During my pot-induced slumber, I had a dream. I was walking the grounds outside the house. I had the distinct impression that I’d been walking for years and would continue to do so. Was I in purgatory? The wind picked up from the north, blowing my hair about my face. Looking down at my feet, I saw the trench my pacing had created.
“You are not set upon this path to walk alone Joel.” The voice came from inside my head. Was it my own?
“This burden is not yours alone,” the voice explained. I suddenly realized I was talking with my angel. “Do not let an ego overwhelm your good sense.” I couldn’t stop walking the trench as I listened to the angel’s words.
“The others know peace now. Keep your good sense about you, Joel. It won’t be long.”
I was still walking, but now I wept as well. “To what end? We’ve lost three friends to your precious path. Fuck you! You ask too much!”
I woke up staring at the ceiling, muscles rigid and fluttering. I was angry. Angry with this insane vision giving me hope. Angry with Sara for instilling some sort of religious fanaticism in me. Angry with myself for the pedestal I’d put myself on. Did I think I was on my way to sainthood? I was turning my dreams into some sort of hope for the future. My spasms stopped abruptly. Putting things in perspective I reminded myself it was just a dream. I kissed Sara who was now draped over me, and fell back into a restless slumber.
*****
It turned out that Julia was as worried for Connor as he had been for her the day before. Sitting in the backyard with me, she expressed concern over what she called Connor’s late night disappearances. I glanced discreetly at her belly, careful not to give anything away.
“What do you mean by disappearances, Julia? What’s he doing, going for a piss?”
“For three hours?”
“Three hours? Have you ever thought to follow him?”
“I always decide against it. It isn’t every night, maybe two or three a week. But we’re going on week three.”
“And you’re sure he isn’t getting up early for his four to eight?”
“Yes, and there’s something else. When he returns, he gets back into bed with his knees and hands covered in dirt.”
“Dirt?” I was stumped. “Maybe you’d better ask Connor what he’s up to.”
“I was kind of hoping that you’d do that for me, Joel. I mean, we’re having a hard time right now. Our relationship ... please, will you ask him for me?”
“Sure, I’ll find a way to ask him.” I offered a reassuring smile, which she returned with one of gratitude. I watched her rise and leave, her hands gently brushing across her abdomen.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Caddy pulled into the garage early that afternoon. Connor, Sidney, and Seth had gone on a scavenging expedition to a town fifty kilometres to the east. There they siphoned a small amount of gasoline from the pumps and found something almost as exciting - chocolate bars! Lately our attempts at salvaging any useful goods from the surrounding towns had been anything but prosperous, so they acted like they’d found the Holy Grail.
“We’ve got chocolate bars by the dozen!” Connor beamed, lifting a garbage bag full of assorted sweets above his head. The last sweet fix I had was a spoonful of white sugar, so I salivated. “Found ‘em in a gas station vending machine.”
“How were they not ruined?” Sara wondered.
“Hey, I’m not saying they resemble their former selves, but they still taste like chocolate! Here!” Pulling out three misshapen bars, he bit into one and tossed the others to us.
“Was there any resistance?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Seth confirmed as he hauled another bag of treats from the trunk.
“
Wow, everyone’s going to be so happy to see these,” Sara exclaimed.
“I hope so, ‘cause we had to roll that vending machine over to get at them.” Sidney explained that the machine had collapsed on its face, shattering the glass but concealing the contents from would-be scavengers. “Got some chips and nuts out of it too. You wouldn’t believe how heavy one of those things is. No wonder people die when those bastards fall on them!”
I gestured to Connor, indicating that I needed to speak to him alone. While Sara and the guys inventoried our new stash of party snacks, Connor and I went into the backyard, out of earshot.
“What have you been doing at nights?” I asked him.
“What?” He recoiled, and then frowned, as though I’d just overstepped my bounds.
I persisted. “Is it you back there? You digging up that earth next to Gil’s grave?” I stared at him, hard. “Is it, man?”
Connor glared. Then he lowered his head and approached the picnic table, where he slowly sat down. I followed.
“What’s wrong with me, man? There must be something wrong with me...” His jaw muscles flexed.
“Is it like a sleepwalking thing?”
“Yeah, yeah, I think it’s something like that. Or maybe I’m going crazy.” He ran both hands through his hair and bit his lip.
“Don’t say shit like that. You’re not.”
“Joel, I can’t explain what’s happening to me. It’s like I’m under the control of someone else. That doesn’t make any sense, I know, but I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Like you’re outside looking in?”
“No, like I’m actually someone else, walking a path that they’d once walked. Like when I let the déja-vu run its course. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Are you kidding? You could get shot walking around in the woods in the middle of the night! Then we’d have to bury you in the grave you dug yourself. That’s messed up!”
“Maybe I was digging a grave for someone else.” He looked sick at the thought. “Maybe it’s for the baby... for Julia’s baby.”
He caught me off guard with that one. “The baby?”
“Yeah, maybe this means that the baby won’t make it to term and be a miscarriage!”
God, it was a horrible thing to hear coming out of his mouth but a better scenario than him dropping dead.
Slapping his shoulder, I stood up. “Come on, let’s get back. We’ll figure out what’s going on somehow.” Together we resurfaced from our hidden position under the balcony and walked out into the sun.
During lunch, Connor drank more than he usually did. I didn’t stop him: he was dealing with a lot. I limited myself to the tainted tap water, which was now bearable thanks to some flavor crystals that Sara had found in the dry storage, but lit a joint to accompany my sickly sweet drink. We wondered how Earl, Sonny, and Fred were making out. Julia stated again that she thought the expedition was a bad idea. Connor looked up from his third glass of straight gin and blurted, “Why do you have to be so negative? Don’t tell me it’s PMS: you’re pregnant, remember?”
Everyone gasped. I fought the urge to strangle my best friend. All eyes fell on Julia. Her quivering chin sank and she blinked in slow motion, as though trying to erase the last thirty seconds. Then she slowly laid down her sandwich, stood up, and left the kitchen.
I pushed down on Connor’s shoulder as he started to rise. My touch was hard: he got the message. Sara also gestured for him to stay put.
“Let me, Connor.” She wasn’t asking permission. She pushed her chair away from the table and followed her best friend.
Silence hung over the kitchen. Then Kevin asked, “When did this happen?”
Both Connor and I shot him a look. He shut up and feigned interest in his water glass.
“She’ll be fine, Connor,” John added. “Caroline missed her period once too, man, it doesn’t always mean they’re pregnant.”
“Julia hasn’t had hers for two months,” Connor replied dully. “She is going to hate me for saying anything. She’s going to hate me.”
“She’s not going to hate you, man,” I insisted. My anger had dissipated and I started to feel sorry for him. “It had to come up eventually.”
“Yeah, really, Connor what was she going to do, claim to have found a baby somewhere?”
Kevin’s special brand of sarcasm wasn’t helping. Connor didn’t react though. He just stood up and went to the basement. I left him with his thoughts and stepped onto the patio with Kev and John. Kev lit a cigarette as we planted ourselves on some lawn chairs. John slipped a joint from his pocket and lit it using Kev’s smoke. When he offered it to me I took a deep toke. It had been a hell of a day.
*****
Later that night, when Kevin and I shared guard duty with Sara, she told us Julia’s wrenching story. It was one of self-pity, a loathsome emotion we were all familiar with, as well as survivor’s guilt, another deeply traumatic sensation everyone had to deal with. But unlike us, Julia chased all of those painful and self-destructive emotions and nourished an enormous sense of self-hate over allowing something like a pregnancy to happen at all. She was adamant that she couldn’t let a baby be born into a damaged world like this.
“The way she was explaining herself - trying to justify her reasoning –was frightening,” Sara went on. “I think I might have talked her out of an abortion. I mean, I could try to perform it for her but it’d be dangerous. Besides, I told her that a baby would be a beautiful addition to our group, a representative of hope. Anyway, I think I gave her something to sleep on tonight. Connor will take it from there. I just can’t believe she didn’t come to me with this information as soon as she knew.”
“Sounds like maybe you’ve gotten her off on the right foot again,” Kevin offered.
“Thanks,” Sara said. “I hope so.”
When twelve o’clock rolled around, Caroline and John came in to relieve us. Sidney was behind them, looking too tired for someone about to begin the night shift.
“Ready for eight hours of this?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“I figure it can’t be much worse then the four to eighter,” John replied. “Just knowing that the sun’s going to rise is enough to keep me up.”
“Amen to that,” stated Sidney, taking his place at the north window.
“Enjoy...” I waggled my fingers. Then Kevin, Sara and I took our leave, never guessing what the morning would bring.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Joel!” My eyes flickered open. I could hear the distressed voice of my best friend. “Joel...”
He began to shake me. Sara woke up too, and was the first to see the look of helplessness and horror in Connor’s red-rimmed eyes.
“Oh no,” she whimpered, knowing instinctively that it had something to do with Julia. Her chin trembled and tears streamed down her cheeks. When Connor nodded at her, confirming the worst, Sara jumped out of bed and charged out of our room.
“What is it? What’s happened?” I sat up. Sara could be heard crying frantically in the spare bedroom, Connor and Julia’s room. Peering closely at the hunched figure of my best friend, I saw with alarm that blood covered the front of his shirt.
“It’s Julia.” Connor couldn’t speak further. When he began to sway, I scrambled out of bed, ignoring the pain in my leg, and caught him. I could see Sara across the hall, kneeling beside Julia’s bed, holding her lifeless white hand. Jesus, there was blood everywhere!
I helped Connor onto my bed. He stayed there, gripping the blankets and pulling them over his head. Then I ran across the hall and dropped next to Sara.
Julia was dead, and had been for hours from the look of her. The stench of blood was overpowering. My eyes fell to her hands, where I saw deep, vicious cuts in her wrists. The morning sun permeated the room, enhancing the contrast of red on white, red on everything.
Sara remained kneeling beside the bed, weeping into Connor’s pillow as I massaged her shoulders. Glancing back
into my room, I saw Connor sitting on my bed, swaying back and forth and pulling at his hair. He’d never be the same either. Just when you think you’ve mastered your situation, fate throws you a curve ball. We’d come so far, I thought we were actually getting a grip on this. I would never overestimate myself or my friends again.
*****
Sara stayed with Connor in our room while Kevin and I wrapped Julia in a soft yellow sheet. It was now painfully obvious as to who would fill the plot Connor had so diligently - albeit unconsciously - dug over so many sleepless nights. We would lower Julia’s small and delicate vessel into the plot beside Gil.
During the brief funeral service, only the Lord’s Prayer was recited. Words, even prayers, were powerless to soften the grief and melancholy. Connor never spoke. His chin rarely left his chest as he stared at the grave and accepted handshakes or hugs without offering any eye contact. I showed my support by sitting with him constantly, being there should he wish to open up after the funeral.
Which he did. We were seated at the edge of the backyard, overlooking the woods, the newly erected grave marker in plain view.
“How bad could it have been?” he whispered. I said nothing, just listened. “Having a baby... how bad could it have been?” He lifted his head to look at me, eyes beseeching me for an answer.
“Connor….” I started to speak, but stopped. I turned away, closing my eyes against the orange glow breaking on the horizon. Nothing I could say would make any difference.
“Go back to the house, Joel,” he said softly. “I want to be alone for awhile.”
*****
When night fell, I sat in one of the RVs out front, trying to piece together all that had happened, to find a pattern or purpose. I smoked a bowl, or two or three. When I was ready to reenter the world, I wandered into the house. It was late and my direction was utterly aimless. I ended up in the basement, where I came across Kevin’s gallery of the bizarre. He had moved many of his paintings here from the addition to make room during the occupation.
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