Journal (19 page)

No,
there was no stopping us except for one little thing — the two kids.  We heard
them come in the front door.  Anna was off my lap and into the kitchen like her
pants were on fire.  She immediately went about pretending to look through a
cupboard.  Me, I got up as well, only to sit right back down again.  I started
laughing at that point, which made Anna laugh, too, which made Gabriel, who was
now in the room, ask what was so funny.

I
shrugged my shoulders and told him he should ask his mom, which got me a dirty
look from Anna, not a humorous one either, and made me laugh even more.

He
looked at her with a confused expression on his face and asked why she was so
red.

She
squirmed like a worm on a summer sidewalk and choked for an answer, leaving the
question just floating there, getting louder and louder by the second, until
Petra said, “We found a boat.”

Thank
God for the innocent child, huh?  The subject was changed, so everyone had an
excuse to talk about something else, even though our minds hadn’t changed
subjects at all.

It
was in the garage, sitting on a trailer with two flat tires.  It looked about
twelve feet long and was made of aluminum with three seats across, front to
back.  There was an outboard motor mounted on it, and a couple of fiberglass
oars resting inside.

Gabriel
said if only we could fix the tires maybe we could get it to the river.  He was
still casting a fish eye at Anna and me, though.  I think he’s onto us now.

We
started looking around and found a hand pump in one of the cabinets.  At that
point, we all kind of just looked at one another, shrugged our shoulders and
agreed to give it a try.  I started pumping away while calculating; a quarter
mile to the road and maybe another half mile to the river.  We could do this, I
thought.  The boat wasn’t very heavy.  We could also carry a little more of the
food that way.

The
tires sense ofwotinflated and held, so I took the motor off the back and rigged a piece of
galvanized pipe across the tongue so two people could lift and walk at the same
time.  We just packed up our gear after that, like I said, taking more food
than we would normally be willing to carry, loaded it all in the back of the
boat for balance, and said good bye to our temporary shelter.  Things were
looking up.

It
was a little harder than I thought it would be.  Still, we made the river in
about forty-five minutes and found a place to get into the water.  It was a
tight fit with the four of us and our gear, but the boat was solid, and the
waterline stayed a foot or so below swamp level.  My guess is it was about
eleven in the morning when we finally got underway.  Yo-ho-ho, it’s a sailor’s
life for me.  I guess you can tell I’m in a good mood as I write this.

The
spring runoff was just starting, so the current was good, and it carried us
south at a speed faster than we could have ever walked.  That was the good
thing.  The bad thing was that we were more exposed and would have difficulty
seeking cover if we were attacked.  But if we could travel the distance of two
days in one, not only would we have a better chance of getting to Woburn in
time, but we would be putting more distance between our pursuers and us than
they may be able to make up.

Not
much happened in the next few hours.  The river just flowed silent and gray
under an overcast sky, slapping at the banks, over and around rocks, and then
swirled and eddied in its passing.  On occasion we were witness to great
flights of geese formed like waves of lumbering bombers a century past, on
their way to do their mischief.  Petra would always look up when they flew over,
point, and make Gabriel look, too, and answer all her questions.  She has
quickly latched onto Gabriel, and he seems enchanted by her attention.  As for
Anna and I, we were at opposite ends of the boat and avoiding eye contact.  I
know we have to talk and find out what each other thinks and feels, but I’m
afraid there will be little opportunity for that soon.

My
thoughts on what happened are mixed.  I’m not sure of my motivation.  I
challenge myself to dismiss my uncertainty, do away with any contemplation that
doesn’t bare witness to man’s nature.  Shrug and set it aside, I say.  It’s
nothing more than a mixing of proximity and abstinence.  In another setting, in
another time, it wouldn’t have happened (so I say).

Try
as I might, though, other voices speak to me, and their words demand fair share
consideration.  They argue another thing.  There’s something there beyond the
easy explanation — need.  It’s deeper and warmer and more substantial.  It
seeped into me when she used her body to warm mine and mine hers, and later
gave me strength to end another man’s suffering.  I heard it in her voice when
she thought her son was done-in.  I saw it spill down her face when a dead
woman was given the return of her dignity.  And it radiated when an orphaned
child, so suddenly alone, was soothed.  These things weren’t falsely done; no
face contrived.  They are she and her character to cherish.

There
was plenty of time for me to think about these things because we stayed on the
river until about six in the evening.  I guess we traveled somewhere around
thirty miles.  I base this on the fact that we passed under a narrow cement
bridge at one point, and I think I found it informationwot on the map.  Using the map’s scale,
I was able to make a rough guess on our distance traveled.

We
paddled our way to the edge of the river and pulled the boat out, doing the
best we could to hide it in the brush.  Camping near the river would have
provided a measure of concealment but it would also have been cold and damp
throughout the night.  We gathered our gear and moved inland through a stand of
Aspen that made me think of an old photo I once saw in a tin roofed bar in East
Texas.  It showed civil war soldiers, dust covered and gray from battle, some
standing tall with others leaning into them, the debris of battle accumulated
around their feet.

We
went on through and found a place near a large boulder, shielded by cedar and
pine.  We moved about our chores, now a familiar routine.  A clear plastic tarp
taken from Beth Morgan’s garage, served as our roof.  Wood was gathered,
bedding was laid, a fire built, and food prepared.  All this time, Anna and I
went about our business hiding behind necessary words and forced expressions.  I’m
wondering now if I might not have made a mistake.  It’s awkward.

April
15, 2054 –

It’s
been four days since my last entry, so I have a little catching up to do.  There
is a lot to tell.

___________

On
April 12
^th
, we were back on the river early.  The day was damp, I
was cold, Anna was still vague and distant, and the sky to the north promised more
hardship.  At least we were fed.

The
river seemed to be a little swifter, a little rougher, a little more of a
challenge.  It wasn’t a matter of just drifting along with an occasional
correction anymore.  Anna and I, in the front and back respectively, were
constantly using the oars to keep the bow headed downstream.  Gabriel, with his
bum shoulder, was unable to spell us.  Still, we moved along, satisfied with
our progress, until late morning.

As
we came out of a long sweeping turn that took every bit of our limited skills
to negotiate, the channel began to narrow and deepen.  Up ahead, I could see a
stretch of rough water, rolling gray and black for as far as I could see.  Our
little boat picked up speed and began pitching slightly side to side.  At that
exact same moment, Petra stood up, maybe to move forward and sit with Anna or
reach for something she wanted, I don’t know.  She lost her balance, reached a
hand for the boat edge, missed, and went over backwards into the water.  Anna
never saw or even heard any of this, partly because of the river noise and
partly because she was so focused on what was up ahead.

The
look on Petra’s face while in the water is the thing nightmares are made of.  I’ll
never, ever forget it.  She didn’t scream, or cry, or grimace.  She was almost
expressionless, and her eyes held mine for just a moment or two, no more.  Her
little chin was turned up as high as it could go with her mouth open, forming a
perfect “O”.  Water washed over her face, and I saw her spit.  Dog paddling
like mad, she made one grab for the boat, missing it by at least two feet, and went
under. am I doing this because from thentp

At
the same time all this was happening, I released the oar, just let it drop into
the water, stood up, and jumped in.

In
that second, when I hit the river, I remember feeling almost instantaneous pain,
and it caused me to gulp lungful after lungful of air.  This was snowmelt
runoff, and it was so cold I felt like the catch of the day, flash frozen for
freshness.  But I guess my blood vessels constricted, or whatever it is the
body does to compensate for near freezing exposure, and the pain lessened.  I
was able to think again.

My
first thought — where is she?  I had to find her.  I hoped she wasn’t still
under water.  Fear grabbed me by the collar and shook me about even as I looked
around, all the while being carried downstream in the ever-increasing current. 
My knee struck something hard, probably a rock, and my shoulder hit something,
too.  I saw the boat thirty, forty yards ahead of me and getting farther away. 
Anna finally twisted around and looked at me, but a second or two later she was
forced to turn back and hunch her shoulders into the paddle.  I saw Gabriel
pointing, not at me but to something in front of me and to my right.  I
couldn’t see her, I couldn’t see her, I couldn’t see her — and then I did.  Her
purple, vinyl raincoat, floating out from her body is what caught my eye.  I immediately
lost sight of her, though, when the current turned me sideways.  However, a
moment later I saw her again, maybe twenty yards downstream and a bit to my
right.

I
started swimming in her direction, my arms acting as if they belonged to
someone else.  They teased me, pretending to cooperate, refused, and pretended
again.  I spit water and swore.  A panic rose like bile from my stomach and into
my brain.  I hoped, I prayed to get to her in time, but my clothes were
weighing me down.  I felt my body drop into a trough and shoot back out.  I was
a little closer after that.

I
was gulping air again and swallowing water at this point.  The cold was almost
unbearable.  As I struggled hard against the weight of my clothes, I bumped
into another exposed rock, hitting my hip solidly.  I had gone into the water
with my pistol holstered at my belt, and I think it was at that point that I
lost it.  The top of my hand scraped something as well and later showed bloody. 
But worse than all of that, the water and the cold together seemed to leach the
strength right out of me.  I have to admit, I began to have doubts about my own
survival.  To hold back these thoughts I shouted, “Don’t give up!”  ”Don’t give
up!”  “Don’t give up!”  I willed myself on.

The
shore shot by, a blur of colors and shapes.  Up ahead, I could see a giant pine
stretched out over part of the river with some of its branches hanging down to
the waterline.  As I watched, Petra was swept into it and became hung up on a
branch.  I saw her hands gripping the limb like an axe handle.  But my track
was too far out into the water to catch hold of it, too.  I desperately swung
my arms and kicked my feet in that direction but went on by.  As I passed, I
called her name and told her to hold on.  I wasn’t sure she heard me.

I
continued to maneuver closer to land, finally catching a rock; my fingertips
digging, clawing, and scratching for purchase.  I launched myself from that
rock shoreward, hit my knee againse people want you so bad?”

The
tree was huge, chest high or higher, and a 100 feet long.  Tufts of wiry moss
grew from its fissured surface.  Its branches were still green, its aroma still
sharp, so only recently felled.  I wonder now, what could have possibly taken
down such a monster?

I
pulled myself up on top, still yelling her name repeatedly.  No reply came in
return, and I thought the worst.  The branches were so thick with needles that
they prevented me from getting a view of the area where I hoped Petra to be.  Their density also made it difficult to maneuver my way out over the water. 
But I managed it with only minor mishap and eventually reached a point where I
thought she was and leaned out, holding a branch in each hand to keep myself
from falling.  And there they were, those beautiful blue eyes looking up at me.

She
appeared pretty well done-in.  Her hair was stuck to her face, her lips were
blue, and her whole body shook from cold and exhaustion.

I
yelled at her to hold on.  I told her I was coming for her.  I assured her that
everything would be all right”.  I talked non-stop, saying anything and
everything to encourage her for just a little longer.

I
used the tree limbs to lower myself down to the water.  With the bottom half of
my body submerged and my hands gripping the branches, I had her wrap her legs
around my waist.  That took a little doing because she was afraid she’d fall,
but once accomplished, I had her put her arms around my neck.  After that, it
was just a matter of monkeying my way along the length of the tree, back to
land.

We
both just collapsed as much from exhaustion as from emotional release.  I held
her and rocked her.  She cried and shook.  I did too.