Upon This Rock

by David Marusek

  Then they did the next load.

  At one point, the little girls in one of the bathtub stalls were getting a bit rambunctious, and Deut, who was up to her elbows in sudsy water, asked Ginger to go in and “speak to them.” When Ginger pulled the curtain aside, she was surprised to see three little girls bathing in a tub while wearing their undergarments. Words failed her. The giggling girls interrupted their game to watch her. It took Ginger a moment to find her adult voice and say, “Your sister says no more horsing around in here. Got it?”

  “Yes, Auntie Ginger,” they replied sweetly. “We’ll be good.”

  Ginger closed the curtain more confused than ever, and not just about the odd bathing fashion. When had she become their auntie?

  WS2 1.0

  THERE WAS A thump, the sound of a melon hitting the floor, followed by shrieking. The girls rushed to the common room. Elzaphan, who had been nursing, now sat on the floor holding his head and raging at his older brother, Numbers, who was climbing on top of Mama P to take his place at the catatonic teat.

  “Nummy!” Sarai scolded. “You have to wait your turn.”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “Oh, Numbers, don’t defy me. You know you can’t win.”

  Sarai picked up the boy, who kicked and punched at her, and when she placed him on his feet, he ran to the bunkroom. Sue, meanwhile, gathered Elzie in her arms to soothe him, and in a little while he stopped crying.

  “You’re good with him,” Sarai said.

  “Three baby brothers. What can I say?”

  Sarai laughed. “Only three? Lucky you.”

  “Three’s plenty.” Sue placed Elzaphan on Mama P and lifted the nursing shawl for him. “By the way,” she said, “isn’t Nummy a little old to still be nursing?”

  “Another couple of months, and then we’re cutting him off.”

  “I mean, he’s hardly a baby anymore, and he eats everything on his plate. How old is he?”

  “He’ll be three in a couple of months, and then we’re cutting him off.”

  “I see,” Sue said, not sure that she did.

  WS3 1.0

  THE RAVEN WAITED on the fortified gallery above the open gate for the boys to drop their loads of firewood and begin their slog back down the tailings slide. When the way was clear, the bird flew into the mouth of the keep and threaded its way through the dark tunnel to the door of the powder room. It examined the padlock and gave it several tentative pecks with its beak. Nothing doing — the barrier was more than it could handle. So it turned around and flew back through the tunnel to the gate and away.

  WS4 1.0

  THE TWO RANGERS had stayed out of each other’s way since their visit to the flats. They kept themselves busy completing the end-of-season checklist for shuttering the mill town. The Japanese aurora-watchers left by bus on Friday (with a half dozen lucky new blastocysts on board), and manager Gonzales and crew were winterizing the lodge in preparation for their own departure on Sunday. At end of shift on Saturday, Masterson asked Jace to meet him at his house that evening to discuss his annual employee evaluation. Technically, that was after hours, but Jace didn’t bother to object, in case that caused his evaluation to be worse than it was already bound to be.

  Due to his rank, the park service had assigned Masterson one of the restored single-family houses in Caldecott as his residence. There was a row of them north of the power plant on the lane that led to the glacier. Masterson’s house had originally belonged to the mine’s timekeeper. In an era before computers, keeping track of the labors of over three thousand men was both an arduous and a prestigious occupation. Masterson hated the house — it was like living in a museum — but the alternative was staying in the mens’ bunkhouse, which he hated even more.

  When Jace arrived that evening, there was a 6 kW Generac generator running on the front porch. They had already mothballed the big Caterpillar diesel rig that electrified the entire town, and Masterson’s home oil stove needed electricity to operate. Jace knocked on the door and waited. He knocked again, and when no one answered, he simply went in.

  Masterson was slumped in an armchair in the old-timey parlor with his feet propped up on a suitcase. An empty bottle of single-malt whiskey lay on the floor. The ranger was wearing jeans and a Cal sweatshirt, and Jace couldn’t recall another time seeing him out of his starched green and grays. Masterson looked up, thoroughly shit-faced, when Jace entered.

  “Come in,” he said, “and make yourshelf at home.” He tried to get up, but abandoned the project. “Shit anywhere.”

  There was only one other seat, a straight-backed dining room chair. An internet radio station was playing on a docked iPod.

  “Drink?” Masterson said. But when he spotted his bottle on the floor, he said, “There’s beer in the cooler. Get me one while you’re up. Or if you’re holding, go ahead and smoke it. I don’t care.”

  Nice try.

  “I don’t know why you keep insisting I do drugs,” Jace said. “Have you ever seen me high?”

  Masterson laughed. “Based on your job performance, you’re either high all the time or a cretin. Take your pick.”

  The cooler was on the back porch, about twenty feet from the drop off to the glacier. There was no ice in the cooler, but at these temperatures none was needed. In fact, the cooler was for keeping the beer from freezing solid. Jace brought back two cans of Coors.

  “So, you staying over this winter?” Masterson said.

  “Looks that way. You?”

  “They want me at headquarters after New Year’s. Terrence is going off contract.”

  That about wrapped up the smalltalk. They sipped beer slushies and listened to Beethoven, or Mozart, or somebody — Jace wasn’t really into classical music.

  “I like you,” Masterson said. “I didn’t think I would, but I do. You’re solid enough, in your own millennial dipshit way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean it. That’s why, as your reporting officer, I don’t want to fuck you over too much. But I gotta tell them something. You know? So, I’ll give you another chance to set the record straight. What were you doing out there for a week on the government’s dime using government property? And don’t — don’t — tell me about your alien abduction crap again, or so help me, I’ll arrest you.”

  Jace had anticipated the question, but despite thinking about it for three solid days, he hadn’t come up with a better story than the truth. No further satellite updates had revealed the snow circle, his google searches came up dry, and it was unlikely the Prophecys would voluntarily give up the only real evidence anytime soon. All he had was the truth and his word.

  “I know it’s hard to believe. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I didn’t see it.”

  “Bullshit! I know you were searching for something, Kuliak. I know you borrowed the metal detector. I know you wanted to charter a flight with Nellis. Just tell me what you were looking for. A drug drop gone wrong? A body? Explosives? A weapons cache? I promise I’ll protect you as much as I can, but you gotta come clean.”

  “That’s crazy talk. I’m no criminal.”

  “How is it any crazier than a giant talking tulip? What about human trafficking? Are you smuggling in illegals?”

  “I never said the tulip talked.”

  “Well, at least we got that straightened out. Scratch the talking tulip.”

  The two rangers went back to sipping beer. Jace wondered if the discussion was over and how it had gone. Could he leave yet? Masterson was as morose and withdrawn as he’d ever seen him, not to mention drunk. When Jace finished his beer, he crushed the can and looked around for somewhere to toss it.

  When Masterson spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. “I’ve done some pretty lame crap in my day, and I’m not proud of it. But one thing I never did and never would do is walk into a school with an assault rifle a week before Christmas and blow away twenty-six little angels.”

  What the hell? Jace asked Masterson to explain himself, but the ranger
buried his head in his hands and wept. He gestured for Jace to leave him, to go away, and Jace did so, gladly.

  WS5 1.0

  ON SIXTHDAY NIGHT, the temperature dropped again, and the Lord’s Day broke clear and cold. There would be no work done on this day, aside from the mostly female labor of getting everyone fed, the dishes cleaned, and taking care of Mama P. But neither would there be any additional time spent in prayer than the usual evening Worship Time.

  “What about church?” Sue asked. She sat at the grown-ups’ table having a breakfast of corn mush and moose gravy. Poppy wasn’t present, and the children at the kiddie tables were all amped up.

  “Hain’t no churches around here worth calling a church,” Proverbs said. He had worn his eyepatch to breakfast. It was the first time Ginger had seen it, and she thought he wore it as a joke.

  “Hain’t there now, matey?” she said and immediately regretted it. She’d meant it to be funny, what with the pirate eyepatch and all, but “matey” sounded uncomfortably close to “mate,” and she didn’t want to give him any ideas. Fortunately, no one seemed to have heard her joke, least of all Proverbs.

  “What about the Bunyans’ church?” Sue said. “They told us they hold services in the rug room on Sundays. Dell’s a pastor.”

  Proverbs said, “Pastor Dell teaches falsehoods.”

  “That’s terrible. What kind of falsehoods?”

  Proverbs began to reply, but Adam raised his hand. “Leave this to me, brother.”

  Proverbs nodded and gave him the floor.

  Adam took a sip of coffee before beginning. “Among his other errors, Pastor Bunyan preaches that the Rapture comes before the Tribulation.”

  “Well, duh,” Sue said. “Wait. Are you saying it doesn’t?”

  “No, it doesn’t. A true reading of Scripture says that the righteous will suffer the End Times right alongside the damned. That’s why we came to the mountain. That’s why we built the keep.” Then Adam waved his hand dismissively. “But enough theology for now. My brother has brought it to my attention that we’ve been so caught up with work this week that we’ve been neglecting you ladies. So we thought it would be fun if we went on a picnic this afternoon, just the four of us.”

  “A picnic?” Sue said, surprised. “In this weather?”

  “What weather? It’s only minus ten (–23 C) out. Practically springtime. Besides, it don’t have to be an outdoor picnic. We bought a Yukon stove in Anchorage for Proverbs’ new cabin, and this would be a good time to install it. Then we can get a nice fire going in there and heat the place up for our picnic. How does that sound? We get out of this madhouse for a few hours, see a little countryside.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Sue said, “but is that the same cabin the rangers were talking about the other day?”

  Ginger said, “What rangers?”

  “You missed them,” Sue said. “You and Verbs were gone to the Bunyans’ when these two forest rangers came to the door complaining about a cabin someone built on park land.”

  Proverbs said, “The parkies might think it’s their cabin and their land, but those times are gone, and it’s a little late to be knocking on our door over it.”

  Ginger said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, in case you’ve been sleepwalking lately, that the Tribulation has already begun. We’re already in the End Times.”

  Adam rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We can talk about all that if that’s what the girls want,” he said, “but let’s talk at the picnic, not here. Sue, are you in?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Ginger?”

  “Sure. It does sound like fun. Deut, you’ll come too?”

  Deut, who had been quietly sitting out the whole conversation, said, “Huh?”

  “Want to go with us on a picnic?”

  Proverbs said, “There’s only room for us four.”

  “Nonsense,” Ginger said. “We can use a sled.”

  “I said there’s only room for us.” Proverbs’ good eye flashed with annoyance.

  His attitude wasn’t very inviting. “Thanks,” Ginger said, “but count me out. Maybe next time.”

  Proverbs abruptly pushed away from the table and left the common room. The little ones all fell silent and watched him go.

  DEUT AND GINGER stood side by side in matching floral-print aprons at the large galvanized sink where they rinsed the breakfast dishes.

  “You know what I’d really like to do today?” Ginger said.

  “Obviously, not go on a picnic.”

  Ginger laughed. “No, really, I’d like to go up and check out this mountain keep of yours. I’ve been hearing about it all week, and I’m really curious.”

  Deut thought about it a moment. “We might do that. I’ll ask Poppy.”

  “You need permission?”

  “Maybe. It’s always a good idea to ask.”

  “But Sue goes up there all the time.”

  “Not really. She only goes when Adam or Hosea takes her. You could ask Proverbs to take you up there.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  WS6 1.0

  “HOW’S THIS NOT working on the Lord’s Day?” Ginger asked reasonably. They were loading two plastic toboggans with cordwood at the foot of the slide. “Hauling wood up the side of a mountain should qualify as work, it seems to me.”

  “We’re climbing up there anyways,” Deut replied. “We might as well bring a load up with us. Why go up empty handed? Besides, I don’t see it as work so much as doing a kindness for my brothers. One less load for them. Besides,” she added, “like Mama always said, we’re Christians, not Jews.”

  Ginger was a little shocked. That sounded a bit bigoted, though she wasn’t sure how. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Deut tugged the tow rope, breaking the toboggan free from the snow, and began the long climb. Ginger followed suit.

  “It means that we’re Prophecys, not Pharisees, and our sheep are ever falling into pits.”

  Ginger laughed out loud. “Oh.”

  IF IT WASN’T work, it was a good approximation. Both girls had unzipped their parkas and vests by the time they reached the mine adit at the top. Ginger stood between the two cliff faces and gawked at the defensive log galleries overhead with their sniper slots. She stood before the armored gate and gawked some more.

  “It’s on account of we may have to keep people out,” Deut said.

  “Oh, I get that,” Ginger said. “I just didn’t expect it. It’s so, you know, Game of Thrones. I didn’t expect to see something like this. That’s all.

  “Game of Thrones?”

  “Yeah, you know, the cable TV series. Oh, you wouldn’t have seen it. It’s a show about a war for a medieval kingdom with dragons and demons. You’d hate it, but your keep could be one of their sets.”

  Unsure of what Ginger meant by that, Deut opened the sally door and they went in.

  They each chose a hardhat from a peg on the wall and switched on the headlamps. The tunnel, hewn from solid rock, was also gawk-worthy, as was the machine room. Ginger saw Instagrams everywhere she looked, if only she had her phone. They stopped when they reached the ramp intersection.

  Ginger turned her light all around. “Why do I suddenly get the feeling that someone’s watching us?”

  “You mean besides Elder Brother Jesus?”

  As they climbed the ramp, Ginger said, “What’s the deal with the eyepatch anyway? I mean, it’s none of my business, but is his eye injured or something?”

  “No, not his eye.”

  “Then what?”

  “When my brother was seven years old, a mule that we had at the time kicked him in the head. I was too little to remember any of this, but they say his brain swelled up and the doctor said he would probably die.

  “But we all prayed for him day and night, and he didn’t die. But later he told me he wished he did because he had these grievous headaches all the time. He couldn’t sleep or eat, or study his lessons, or
even be around people. He started acting out so bad the sheriff wanted to lock him up. Poppy wouldn’t let that happen. We prayed and prayed for years, but Father God didn’t see fit to heal him. Mama took him to a bunch of doctors all over California, and they all had their cures, but nothing ever worked for him.

  “Until this one faith-filled doctor outside Sacramento who gave him a pill that helped a lot.

  “And when he turned into a teenager, the bad spells mostly went away. And now he only has ’em when he gets really stressed out. I guess all this running around we’ve been doing and trumpets from Heaven and all brought it on.”

  “And the eyepatch?”

  “When he has a spell, his right eyelid doesn’t blink on its own. He doesn’t notice it until his eye gets so totally dried out it gets sick. The patch just keeps the lid down so it stays moist.”

  “And that cabin they’re going to for the picnic? Adam said it belonged to him.”

  “Oh, that’s just a fallen-down old shack we found. He and Hosea fixed it up, so when things get really bad, Proverbs can go out there to be alone for a few days. When he’s suffering so bad he can get pretty mean and not nice to be around.”

  Deut must have thought she’d revealed too much because she added, “My brother takes a little getting used to, but he’s a good man down deep.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Ginger said, “but I still wouldn’t have gone on the picnic.”

  “Why not?”

  “No offense against your brother, but he’s not my type, and I don’t particularly like Sue, so why spend an entire afternoon with them?”

  It was Deut’s turn to be confused. “Did you change your mind . . . ? About wanting to marry him?”

  “What? Marry your brother? Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because you asked me to come. I came here to get to know you. And your family, and learn about life in the bush and all.”

  Deut didn’t reply, and when they reached the top of the ramp, she stumbled and Ginger almost walked into her.