by Eric Keller
Paul opened the door and silently put his arm around her waist as she stepped into the Lodge so they could say goodbye to their last child.
. . .
He could not move quickly, but he could move, and that was enough for Jacob. He did not know what happened while he recovered in his foliage cavern and he did not know how long he was in there, but he figured Harrison’s hoard should have passed by, continuing to look for Malden in the wrong direction. Regardless, the beasts surely remained out here somewhere, searching and hunting as Harrison did not seem like the type to give up. Jacob knew he needed to get back, get back and warn them all about the danger he had foolishly led to their doorstep.
Finally, as he stumbled around a bend, the crooked tree came into view. He expected to feel relief and joy at seeing the marker for Malden, but he still felt intensely weak while the river appeared deep and strong. With no choice, he stripped out of his rags and avoided looking down at his emaciated body as he waded into the frigid current.
. . .
Feeling like an uninvited guest, Kinma slipped down from the room she had been given upstairs and took a spot along the back wall of the Lodge’s common room, standing next to Milo and Taco who both looked as out of place as she felt. She watched people solemnly file inside, realizing not only that she was a stranger here, but she was also entirely unfamiliar with the nature of the ceremony. There was a fleeting, uncertain, childhood memory of a great-uncle’s funeral before the Bombs but other than that she could not recall any memorials. There were many deaths at Thule, but they were not civilized enough to hold formal services.
As the room filled, she knew she was supposed to be thinking about the poor girl she never met who jumped to her death. And the scared, hurt boy who told her all those wonderful stories to pass the dreadful time in their cell. And the damaged young redhead who walked all the way back here despite his injuries to warn his family. And the larger-than-life man she only briefly met who seemed to mean so much to this place. However, her mind kept drifting to Hale.
While Kinma knew life at Thule was immensely difficult she did not truly appreciate how unfair and miserable that existence was until she saw Malden. With that appreciation came a deeper understanding of how amazing Hale and his ability to love her in that horrible situation had been. Thinking back, seeing the ruined women working sadly in the kitchens or dancing sadly on the tables for the perverted men, she knew, without his caring and sacrifice, she would not have survived, or at least not survived with any sense of humanity remaining within her.
Once everyone settled, and the room grew quiet, Paul stood and began to softly sing. Within three notes, the others joined in, their combined voice immediately filling the space. Listening to the bitterly sweet song, she said a final thank you to Hale for caring long enough so fate could bring her to this place. Then she made a silent pledge that she would go back to Thule and get those trapped there against their will. She would bring them back here where they could live in safety, she would care long enough so she could return the favor paid to her by Hale.
. . .
Tears poured from Louisa, and she did not care that everyone around her could see. She let them pour as her shoulders shook.
As the others sang the soft song, she recalled when they were children, sitting crossed legged in the Clearing and she taught Jacob a lullaby her mother sang to her. Jacob was an awful singer, and his feeble attempts made her laugh. Instead of getting upset or stopping, Jacob continued to muddle through, partly because he was not one to give up but mainly because it made her happy, made her laugh.
When the song was done, people took turns slowly walking to the front of the room to tell stories of those they lost. Tales about Griff came first, mainly people talking about all the pranks and jokes he pulled but there were also some heartfelt stories about him as a child or how he eagerly helped Leo on his projects, always striving to learn. These brought a smile to Louisa’s face despite the battering grief coursing through her. His sister, Emmanuelle, got up last and told of how, despite his cynical nature and constant joking, he truly cared for everyone. She was not at all surprised he forced his ruined body to march all the way home and was not at all surprised that he ultimately gave his life to protect others.
Tina’s mother, Fiona, said she did not want people telling stories, deciding it would be too difficult for her to hear. Instead, Samantha recited a poem about the perseverance of tested souls, and they sang Tina’s favorite song, the one by the Beetles that Walter could play on the guitar about holding hands. Fiona only made it through the first verse before she had to walk out of the Lodge.
Next were stories about Leo. People listed his long line of accomplishments and skills which allowed Malden to thrive and grow. Others talked of how he made up games for all the children to play. Paul talked of them growing up together before the Bombs, barely able to hold back the sobbing as he recounted the memories. This made Louisa forget about her pain over Jacob for a moment in order to feel compassion for his father who had lost his brother and his son.
Finally, Leo’s daughters, Emma and Josie got up together. They tearfully spoke of how miserable they were after their mother passed. They knew their father was suffering from an utterly broken heart as Ainsley was his sunshine, but he choked down his grief in silence so his daughters would not see it. How he calmly consoled them night after night until he figured he could start gently cheering them up with jokes and games. The whole time he never faltered, never allowed an inkling of self-pity to show, never let himself truly grieve near them. They expressed their unending gratitude for all their Papa did for them.
Louisa’s stomach clenched horribly not only at having to watch her close friend Emma’s pain and at the heartfelt sorrow over the loss of Leo but because she knew it was now time for remembering Jacob. Some storytellers made people laugh. Many storytellers talked of Jacob’s unending generous acts and extreme politeness. Most storytellers became overcome by grief. Surprisingly, listening to everyone, Louisa was sad but not tortured, she enjoyed remembering Jacob and took this as a hopeful sign that she may be able to find happiness at some point again.
At the end of the lengthy service, Morreign stood up. Louisa could actually feel the surprised confusion in the room. No one expected Morreign to speak as everyone knew how his disappearance crushed in on her, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she sounded as strong and clear as ever.
. . .
“The war destroyed the world of laws and rules, destroyed the world where you could call the police or an ambulance to come and take care of you if you were afraid or hurt. The world where lights and heat came at the press of a button, food arrived at your door in cardboard boxes while hot water flowed eagerly from taps. Jacob was a child in that lost world, but he became a man in this new world.
“I’d like to take sole possession of the pride for having raised such a great person in such trying circumstances, but I cannot claim it alone. His family, Paul, Leo, Ainsley and his cousins along with his little brother Huck, closer than any family I ever saw, showed him the importance of caring for one another. Griff, with his goofy ways, got him to relax and enjoy the good times, I’ve never seen two closer friends. Sam taught him, like he’s taught all of us, how to live off the land and how actions speak louder than words that voicing discomforts and talking for the sake of talking was wasteful when tasks needed to be done.”
A few people chuckled softly at this, everyone enjoying the running joke that Sam never spoke as Morreign continued, “We all, everyone here, worked to mold the man he became and the leader he would certainly have become.”
Morreign, surprised by how easily the words were coming to her, turned her gaze to Louisa, holding the girl’s eyes, as she continued, “And, perhaps most importantly, Louisa arrived. Never have any of us seen such
a perfect and wonderful love as the one they shared. She brought intense joy to my son every day, and for that, I will be forever grateful.”
Looking down at the girl, Morreign noticed Louisa’s once bright, yellow hair now appeared pale, and her rosy face seemed drawn and grey. She resolved to help her, to treat her as the daughter she had become over all these harsh weeks. A new child. Her third child.
Returning her attention to the whole room, “It seems foolish in retrospect but, when we arrived here, a strange concern I had, amongst that pile of strange concerns all mothers of small children have, was that my boys would not have enough friends to become social and would not have enough to do to fill their days. There would be no more play dates, no more crowded classrooms, and no more afterschool activities. That worry disappeared as the children here showed us that, left to their own devices, they would happily play at whatever and with whoever was at hand. All of the children, including Jacob, then taught all of us adults not to fret about the things we did not have but to enjoy what we did have.
“When I think back, as I often will, I’ll recall the giddy, energetic boy he was and the hardworking, generous, joyful and strong man he became. I will miss him deeply every day but I will remind myself I was lucky to have such an amazing person in my life and we all can take pride in who he was as all of us in this community created him. I thank all of you for that, and I vow to use my best to try and always uphold those qualities.”
While her grief remained, as she slowly moved to sit back down, Morreign did feel slightly better and confident this improvement, while it would not be easy, could continue if she let it. When she came here this morning, she did not intend to speak but seeing all those familiar people saying such great things about their lost friends inspired her. Now, she knew she could refocus on improving Malden, creating a future for the others and that would give her more than enough reason to get out of bed every morning.
Samantha stood to start the last song, but Sam stepped forward and quietly asked, “Can I say something?”
Never in the last ten years could Morreign recall Sam addressing a group, even in an informal setting, but now he moved to the front, his normal stoic confidence replaced by a strange nervousness as he said, “I won’t say much, but I wanted to let you all know that I think I learned far more from Jacob than I ever taught -”
Sam suddenly stopped speaking, turned his attention to the back of the room and, confused, asked, “Jacob?”
. . .
Crossing the river was not easy. The current continually threatened to pull him away, but Jacob kept an eye on the crooked tree as he forced his exhausted arms to stroke and his wobbly legs to kick. Eventually, he reached the far bank where he allowed himself to rest, lying on his back on the familiar gravel, enjoying the sensation of having made it to the place he never thought he would see again. Before long he pushed himself back up, desperately eager to see home, desperately needing to warn them.
When Jacob stumbled into the Clearing, having not seen or heard any people, he worried his trick had not worked, and he would only find the burned-out buildings and rotting corpses left by Harrison’s ravaging army. Instead, he saw everything the same as he left it but with no people.
Perhaps the attack eradicated everyone and Harrison had already moved on. Hurrying as best he could on weak legs, over the intimately familiar green space, filled with panic, he became further confused by the muffled, brief sound of what he thought was laughter on the breeze.
Jacob stumbled up the three steps to the Lodge, his bare feet slapping the worn wood. He did not know what he may find inside, so he cracked the heavy door carefully and quietly.
No army of hulking brutes, his friends and family filled the entire space. Relief poured over him, and he could do nothing but stand in the doorway, overcome by the flood of bliss. He listened for a moment as his mother talked, with tears in her eyes, about how someone was created by Malden. He could see people were crying. He had seen an event like this before and decided it must be a funeral.
Oddly, Sam got up next, looking strangely uneasy. Before Jacob could move inside, his old friend with the keen, black eyes saw him in the cracked open doorway. As their eyes met, it fully dawned on Jacob’s exhausted mind. They were there. They were all there. They were all there, and they were safe. Harrison must still be scouting. He had done it, he had deceived the evil bastard and beat his army to Malden. Somehow he had made it back in time.
Sam said his name. Everyone turned to look at him. A sea of wonderfully familiar faces, however, they all looked stunned, staring, unmoving. In the awkward silence, everyone in his world pondering his wet and disheveled form, an ingrained politeness made him feel awkward for interrupting, and Jacob did not know what to do so he merely said, “Sorry.”
. . .
Louisa did not know how or when she got to her feet, but she was suddenly running. Jacob said something, but she did not hear it. Everyone else hesitated, apparently shocked by the arrival of a ghost. Louisa could tell it was truly him, and she crashed into Jacob as everybody else realized what they were seeing and the room erupted in laughter-laden cheers.
. . .
Jacob collapsed back onto the floor, her on top of him, laying on his chest, eye to eye. Jacob whispered, “Are you real?”
Tears wetting her face, she nodded, her blonde hair gently brushing his cheeks.
He whispered again, “I think you are real.”
She nodded again, a grin breaking across her face, “Yes, yes, I’m real.”
“I missed you.”
Unrelenting, uncomplicated happiness filled Louisa, and a perfectly pure smile broke across her tear-soaked face.
Holding Louisa could have lasted for the rest of Jacob’s life, but he recalled the potential doom moving about the wilderness and panic pierced through his joy. “Wait, wait. Attackers. Attackers with rifles. Lots of them.”
Someone gently helped him to his feet as someone draped a blanket over his shoulders. He recognized the tattered blue yarn from his childhood. A blanket his aunt Ainsley had knitted years ago. Tears threatened as emotions flooded through him, but he composed himself enough to say, “They’re coming, we need to prepare, we need to get ready to fight or run or something.”
His father and mother slipped through the crowd, and Paul said, “Its ok, Jacob, it’s ok. They came before you, days ago. Your friends warned us, and we won, it’s over, we’re safe, you’re safe.”
He looked at his mother, and she merely nodded with a powerful smile on her face. “Welcome home Jacob.”
THE END
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review online—anywhere you are able. Even if it’s just a sentence or two. It would make all the difference and would be very much appreciated.
Thanks!
Eric
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eric Keller is a lawyer in Calgary, Alberta. In his free time, he reads slowly, golfs badly, skis cautiously and cheers enthusiastically for a middling NFL team.
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