Edge Walker

by Chris Hampton

  The boy and the old man climbed out of the car and set their packs on the white sand, behind the car. Grandfather quietly walked back to the driver's side, lowered all of the windows, put the transmission into neutral, and released the parking brake. Then, they pushed the car and it rolled down the embankment.

  The thick swampland muffled the small Honda's entry splash. The downhill momentum carried it out about ten feet where it floated for a few moments, then sank slowly and quietly, gurgling into the darkly tannin water. The boy felt a pang of sadness as he watched his mother's car disappear. Another connection to his old life gone. Ripples from the car's sinking moved out in the moonlight, widening and disappearing into the gloom.

  The two of them stood on the sandy bank. The boy had only his pack and his memories now. His world was where he stood at that moment on that white sand road, in the dark of an unknown swampland.

  The starkness of this thought shocked him. He was grateful for Grandfather's presence. It was enough. It would have to be.

  Without speaking, Grandfather showed the boy how to sweep the tracks clean on the sandy road. The boy backtracked a hundred yards while Grandfather erased the tracks on the embankment. Soon, there was no trace of their presence. No trace of where the car had entered the water.

  When they set out down the road, they moved silently along the edge instead of the middle. The white-sugar sand glowed as they moved like phantoms in the night.

  Chapter 14 - The Barrier

  Walking the glowing ribbon of road through the dark gave the boy a weird, dreamlike sensation. If Grandfather had not been there, his fear would've returned. But the old man's presence up ahead assured the boy he was safe.

  Soon, time became only a word he knew in his mind. There was no way to calculate minutes or hours, early or late. Time was simply endless moments in the darkness on the glowing sand then no sand then no road—only thin paths of mounded dirt with dark water on each side and a thick canopy of trees all around, until finally solid ground returned, with leaf debris and sharp bushes that scratched and tore at the boy's clothing.

  Eventually, the travelers came to the end of the deep woods. The swamp was behind them, left hours earlier. Grandfather paused just inside the tree line. The boy stood next to him, unsure. Grandfather motioned the boy to drink while he scanned the open, barren land beyond. So still and silent. He also motioned the boy to eat. The boy slowly chewed some dried apples and one of the energy bars Grandfather had made.

  “Is this the Barrier?”

  “Shh!”

  The boy instinctively put his hand over his mouth, gulping down the last bite of energy bar. Grandfather squatted next to the trunk of a huge elm. The boy followed his example, feeling shame at being shushed.

  Grandfather glanced at the sliver of moon and back down to the barren land. The boy felt the old man's watchfulness and caution.

  “We have to be careful, Grandson," he whispered. "Stay silent like the animals.”

  “Okay,” the boy whispered back.

  “When I start walking, follow me. Go where I go. No talking. Grab my shirt if you need me.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Grandfather looked down at the boy. For the boy, this dark was unknown. Yet, his grandfather seemed at home in it, at ease.

  “No fear, Grandson. You're with me." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, gently squeezing. "I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Ready?”

  The boy nodded as he, too, looked out at the barren landscape. It was clear-cut, no standing trees like the forest they crouched in. The far end of the Barrier, where the woods picked up again, was a darker line on the horizon, a small black line against a lighter night sky. How far away, he had no idea. In the cleared space of the Barrier, under the light of the quarter moon, dark mounds could be seen. The boy wondered what they were. The rest of the area around them was open and clear.

  “Let’s go,” Grandfather whispered.

  Packs on their backs, they set off into the open. The boy followed as close as he could, eyes on his grandfather, as they zigzagged their way through the naked landscape. After some time, he learned how the old man used the topography of the ground to avoid walking in the open, flat areas. He would take the boy into shallow gullies and around the dark mounds. The boy saw that the mounds were jumbled and twisted trunks and branches of trees, stacked by some clearing machinery. When they did have to travel in the open places, it was not for very long.

  They came upon a freshly graded road with a gravel bed. Grandfather paused at the edge of it, checking both directions for movement or any presence on the road. He watched. And listened. The boy waited.

  Finally they crossed.

  Once on the other side, Grandfather had the boy crouch behind a jumble of boulders, also stacked by some machine, while he went back to the road to erase any tracks. The boy watched. And learned.

  They moved out farther into the Barrier as the night wore on. The boy grew tired. Tired from the distance. Tired from the silence. When he looked at the woods ahead, they kept getting closer, but too slowly for the boy's comfort. He wished the walking would stop, but the old man kept going.

  The boy was looking ahead, wondering about the distance, when he saw the sky getting lighter. Details appeared on the landscape. Where only a moment before there were dark and undefined shapes, familiar objects like trees and brush and groundcover became clearer in the growing light.

  The spookiness and phantom shapes of the night disappeared, almost instantly, in this first light. The boy's walk was lighter, energized. He was relieved. Yet, how did it happen so quickly, this dark to light? The boy looked at the new world coming into focus and thought how it felt foreign. Yet the old life in New Orleans was already fading into a black memory.

  Grandfather stopped and signaled the boy to squat next to him as he looked at the sky, then the far woods, then the road that was on their right, parallel to them.

  “It’s getting too light for travel,” he said softly.

  The boy was puzzled.

  “But we can see better now, Grandfather."

  "Yes," Grandfather said. "And so can the patrols that drive through here. We don’t want them to see us.”

  “Patrols?”

  “Yes. This area is off-limits.”

  “Are we trespassing?”

  “Yes, Grandson. But this is the only way to get to my truck.”

  A few moments of silence as the boy thought about this. Calculating in his mind what was right and what was wrong. Grandfather watched him, letting him come to his own conclusion.

  The old man pointed to a large mound of tree trunks and brush.

  “We will stay there during this day," he said, looking again at the boy. "You can rest. Would you like that?”

  “Yes,” the boy answered, more aware than ever of his exhaustion.

  “Follow me. The same way you’ve been doing.”

  The old man was up and moving, checking repeatedly to make sure the boy was behind him. As before, he used the rolling and dipping ground as a shield from the openness while they made the fifty yards to the mound. Once there, Grandfather quickly searched the stacked brush for an opening.

  The mound was better than he hoped. The clump of trees and brush had been pushed over a depression in the ground, forming a small cave underneath. Unfortunately, the opening to the little cave was on the same side as the patrol road, not twenty yards away. Nothing to be done about that.

  The old man went in first, after a quick scan of the road. The boy crouched down to stay out of sight. Inside, Grandfather clicked on a small flashlight that hung around his neck.

  Outside, the boy felt exposed. He looked around nervously, moving only his eyes and barely his head. His fear was back. Soon, though, Grandfather’s face appeared at the opening and motioned him to enter.

  The boy had to take off his pack and hand it to Grandfather before entering. Then,
on his belly, he disappeared inside the black hole. In the cave, there was enough headroom to sit up. And enough length for the boy to stretch out to sleep. Grandfather went back outside and quickly scattered some of the loose branches across the opening. He closed it up from the inside with more branches and backed down to where the boy sat in their new shelter.

  The stack of tree trunks and twisted branches had small gaps allowing some light to penetrate, enough to see in the cave and for the boy to make a nest for sleeping. He quickly stretched out, Grandfather’s small wool blanket over him. The last thing he saw before giving in to sleep was Grandfather sitting cross-legged looking through one of the gaps toward the patrol road, on watch.

  Chapter 15 - The Watchers

  The boy jolted awake. A hand cupped his mouth. His wide-eyed, fear-flooded struggle ended in an instant. No idea where he was. Then he saw Grandfather’s face, close. He had a finger over his lips for silence and pointed to the roof of their cave. He signaled the boy to listen. The boy looked up from his prone position.

  There were voices. Two people. Both male. Grandfather looked back at the boy and, again, put a finger to his lips. The boy nodded that he understood, and the old man took his hand away from the boy’s mouth. Both listened.

  “Ya know, this isn’t such a bad job.” It was the voice of a young man. “Nice view out here.”

  “Whatever," said an older voice. "When you’ve done security as long as me, it’s just another paycheck.”

  The two men were eating lunch. The boy could see through one of the cracks a vehicle parked on the road.

  “So, why don't they want people crossing this place?”

  “Don’t know for sure," answered the older voice. "The supervisor won’t tell us a damn thing. Says we just need to do our job. The rest is his business.”

  “What? So we keep people out?” the young voice said incredulously. "But don't get to know why?"

  “Yep.”

  “Well, fine with me. Like I said, a sweet job. Haven’t seen anyone anyway. Not while I've been out here.”

  "Yeah, well, some buddies of mine were talking about a group up north. Near the Canadian border. Were spotted crossing west up there.”

  “No shit? What happened?”

  “Shot at ‘em. It was early morning, fog was thick, so they couldn’t see much. Said they might have wounded one.”

  “They get away?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn. Wish we had some action like that down here.”

  Suddenly there was movement above. Lunch break was over, and the men were climbing off the roof of tangled wood.

  “Hell, you’ll get your chance," said the older voice. "Rumor is, there's bad sickness back east. Government don't want 'em on our side. That's why this barrier. But, you watch. Some will try to cross. Then the fun'll start!”

  "Hope so."

  Grandfather and the boy heard them clambering over the trunks and debris as they talked, then a crash above their heads! Leaf litter and dirt fell down on them, and a foot poked through the ceiling of the cave.

  “Frickin’ hole!”

  The younger voice was struggling to get his foot free. Grandfather put his hand back over the boy’s mouth. They froze in place. The foot suddenly disappeared upward, and a small shaft of light pierced the ground next to them.

  “Hey, there’s like a cave or something down there.”

  Part of a face blocked the hole. The boy was terrified into stillness. Grandfather looked like stone. Could they be seen?

  “Come on, spaz,” the older voice called from the vehicle. “We’re late checking in.”

  The shaft of light returned as footfalls scrambled off the debris and faded in the direction of the truck. Maybe they were safe now. Maybe it had been too dark for the face to see them. They both watched through a gap between trees as the driver started the truck and drove away.

  Grandfather continued watching the road for long minutes after the truck was gone. Then he turned to the boy, fire in his eyes and face set, determined. The boy could tell the old man was listening into the distance for any sign of the truck's return. Finally, his face softened, and he focused on the boy.

  "You good?”

  “Yes," the boy answered.

  “Too close," he said and lightly touched the boy’s forehead. The old man grinned and tussled the boy's hair. “You did great, Grandson.”

  “That face scared me.”

  Grandfather actually laughed. The boy could hear it was a laugh of relief.

  “Well, your eyes did get big when that foot came through.”

  The boy laughed, too. It felt good to laugh.

  “We’re okay now," said Grandfather. "But we can’t travel 'til dark.”

  They ate some food. The boy was still exhausted from the previous night’s long walk and quickly fell asleep after eating. The next time he woke, it was nearly deep dusk in the shelter. Grandfather was gone, and the boy felt his fear rise. Softly, he called out, his voice shaky.

  “I’m here.”

  The old man's head popped down the entrance hole, and then he crawled the rest of the way in and scooted over to the boy, who was now sitting up with the blanket across his knees.

  “Looks clear out there. Sun’s set. Full dark soon." Grandfather studied the boy. "Ready to walk?”

  “Yes.”

  The old man seemed pleased.

  “Okay. Same as last night. No talking. Follow me. Tug on my shirt if you need me.”

  “Okay.”

  Grandfather had the boy eat another energy bar and drink plenty of water before they left. Crawling out into the deepening night, they pushed their packs ahead of them and emerged through the opening. Standing outside, in the dark, the boy caught a glimpse of the old man patting a tree trunk that lay across the top of the cave entrance.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, then started walking.

  The boy looked at the spot Grandfather had touched and wondered why he talked to dead trees. Time for questions later, he decided, and quickly followed the old man.

  Chapter 16 - Re-Entry

  After an hour of meandering down into gullies and troughs and around debris, they stood at the western edge of the Barrier, staring into the thick woods in front of them. Grandfather looked up at the stars through broken clouds, then plunged into the cypress and oak forest. The oaks were the largest the boy had ever seen, certainly larger than the ones in the swampland back on the other side of the Barrier and larger than the one his old tree house was in. And, though it was dark in the woods, he was still able to spot the massive cypress trees by their wide trunk bottoms, spreading like dark skirts near the ground and narrowing as the trunk climbed higher.

  The boy stayed close, afraid they might get separated in the dark. But the old man looked back often, just as he had the night before, making sure the boy kept up.

  The walk seemed as long and tiring as the night before. The frequent change of course had the boy confused and wondering how Grandfather was able to navigate in this black woodland. Yet, the old man always moved confidently, making decisions with a sureness that baffled the boy. They only occasionally backtracked to take another path. The boy simply followed, trusting.

  In the early morning, they emerged from the woods at the edge of a town. The boy could see lights in the distance, reflecting off low clouds that had gathered while they were crossing through the woods. As they moved nearer to the glow, a chainlink fence loomed out of the grayness in front of them, blocking their way. It was a border fence for a small airport. Blue, red, and green runway lights trailed off in both directions beyond the fence on the other side.

  Grandfather looked pleased and turned left following the fence line. After about a mile, the fence cut ninety degrees to their right, marking the southern border of the airfield.

  They paused at the fence corner. The boy was now familiar with Grandfather’s caution and even caugh
t himself looking around to assess their safety. The old man looked up at the low hanging clouds. Light was strengthening in the sky as rain began to fall, increasing its rate as they stood at the corner. The boy worried about getting wet, yet Grandfather seemed pleased with the rain, even turning his face up to it and catching some water in his mouth. It was a comical sight, this tough old man doing what the boy would sometimes do in the rain. The boy stuck his tongue out and tasted the water.

  Across a small, neatly mowed field, the boy noticed a parking lot. Airport parking, he guessed. The lot was about half full of cars and trucks, with a small terminal building at the far end. People were moving near the building, hurrying to get out of the rain. They seemed far away as the rain fell harder. The building faded behind a sheet of water. Grandfather nodded his head upward to the clouds.

  "This is good cover for us, Grandson."

  He nodded again toward the parking lot.

  “It will hide our movement. That black truck on this end is ours, and we don't want to be seen walking out of the woods to it.”

  Grandfather dug out truck keys from his pack and gripped them in his closed fist. It took a few minutes for them to cross, the old man scanning the area the whole time.

  The locks on the doors clicked as they approached. Rain rattled off the truck, coming down hard now. The boy jumped in the passenger side, dropping his pack at his feet, as Grandfather climbed in the driver's seat and put his pack behind him on the back seat. The old man stripped off his wet shirt and reached to the back, pulling off a dry one from a neat stack of clothes. He instructed the boy to do the same as he tossed him a shirt from a separate stack on the back seat.

  "We'll get out of these wet pants later. We need to get distance from here first."

  In a few minutes, they were moving down a boulevard through the small town alongside other early morning people driving to work or school. Before leaving town, Grandfather turned into a Starbucks drive-through to order breakfast for the both of them and coffee for himself.

  “You can have anything you like,” he said.