FOURTEEN

She hadn’t been outside at night since the firestorm, choosing to close the blinds and lock the doors. The night air was warm and dark, muffling sounds like a cocoon. Constant cloud cover diffused the moonlight creating swirls in the sky. Rachel felt as if she’d stepped into Van Gogh’s The Starry Night where the black mountain was represented by the sinister forest in the former park and the gentle village was their homestead.

They tiptoed out the front door. Scott didn’t let go of her hand.

“This way,” he said, guiding her across the driveway and into the woods. They followed the creek that went past Rachel’s house, the creek they used for washing clothes and watering the plants. Of course they were going to the river. She’d known, somehow, that they would.

“You scoffed when I said worldwide transformation because you thought there was no way I’d be able to tell without radios and telephones.” He ducked around a tree and Rachel mimicked, still joined by hands. “But water. That goes everywhere, right? Into the atmosphere, into the ground, out to the oceans,” Scott said. “Have you ever heard of ley lines?”

“No.”

“It’s the idea the earth has certain pathways of energy, natural walkways connecting special landmarks or energy nodes. We humans used to be tuned into these spiritual energy lines, but we lost the ability when we became modern and chose to live in cities apart from the natural world. But, historically, in every culture there are sacred spaces, or otherworld entrances, or special guardians of those holy sites, gods with a little ‘g.’ ”

“Scott, this sounds very mystical.” She tripped over a root and caught her balance. “And, I don’t see the relevance.”

“Why is this part of the Appalachian Mountains doing alright compared to the surrounding areas? Why is the creek right there comparatively clean when Baltimore’s harbor is filled with ash? Your house is near a ley line intersection.”

They came to the dogleg where the creek veered off from the river. A thin jet of light flowed from the river into the creek and diffused. It would be too faint to see clearly during the day. Scott led her farther upstream, to the same place where she and Adam had stood and watched the ravens. The whole river glowed like a million white candles.

Insects, more specks of light in the forested darkness, flew in the air. Lightning bugs, but no, these were shaped like lady bugs and were bigger. To Rachel’s right trees were growing. Maybe three feet high with gray trunks and evergreen needles. They seemed healthy.

“The forest is coming back?” She pulled her hand from Scott’s. “Is that what you wanted me to see? New trees?”

“Not new,” he said. He was distracted, looking for something on the forest floor. “Unless I’m wrong, those are Cedrus libani. Cedars of Lebanon. The species grows in the Mediterranean dating back to the earliest human civilizations, if not even earlier. The question is why are they growing in Appalachia?” Scott bent down and picked up a twig about eight inches long “Ah-ha! Here we go.” He presented the stick to Rachel with a flourish, turning it like a magician to show there was no trick. “Watch this.” He threw the stick in the glowing creek. It floated on the surface and sank.

“Hold on. It doesn’t always work perfectly.” Scott grabbed two more twigs. The second did the same thing. The third, however, sank and then floated back to the surface, the twig emerging as a thick, three foot long branch. It swirled to the edge and Scott picked it up with the tips of his index finger and thumb. He squatted and dug a hole, planting the branch and then wiping his hands on his shorts. “Tingles,” he said with a grimace, shaking out the hand that had touched the stick.

Rachel’s stomach contracted with recognition. She’d felt that tingle in the creek. “What the hell just happened?”

He said, “I don’t know if it’ll grow. But, it definitely changed. You saw that.”

It had changed. There was no denying it. Was it magic? Did turgor pressure fill up the twig’s veins with water? Too many questions to ask. She settled for, “How did you do that? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand either, exactly, but it’s no trick.” Scott held up one finger. “I think the firestorm was deliberate.” He held up a second finger. “I think the earth, and the energy on earth, changed the night of the firestorm.” He held up a third. “Plants and animals are changing in unpredictable ways.” He flicked out his pinky. “Fourth, I think there are people or maybe creatures who know how to use this new, or maybe old, kind of energy.”

“Right.” Rachel shifted position so that she was facing toward her house, wanting to make sure that Adam hadn’t awakened and come outside to look for her. She rubbed her arms. “Those are some wild claims.”

But her thoughts went back to a raven dipping its beak into the river and feeding the rest of its tribe. Fluttering wings. A nurse who wasn’t a nurse from the “land between two rivers” who said “they” would come after Adam because of something the boy had. A voice in a fog, the smell of ozone, the warning that war was coming. Rachel shook her head. Too many unexplainable things, but the big picture still wasn’t clear.

Scott came around to face her. “Listen, don’t freak out, but I knew you guys were here before today. Lucky for me that you were willing to move the tree.”

Rachel nodded, kept her face blank to mask her fear, her burgeoning awareness of their vulnerability. Scott had known they were here, and she hadn’t even thought about who might be planning to take their house, steal their food.

“What’s the story with Adam’s dad? Does he actually exist?”

Rachel reached up to touch the necklace around her throat, but the chain wasn’t there. After clearing her throat, Rachel said, “Craig. My husband. We were married ten years. Adam and I were in the hospital, safe, because Adam had a fever. Craig wasn’t with us.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean?”

“If my kid had cancer and got a fever, I’d be at the hospital with him.”

“No, it’s not like that.” Rachel said. “It’s an emergency, but it’s not an emergency. Blood cancers suck.” She shrugged. “You can’t be on the highest of high alerts for over two years without a break. I wasn’t mad that he didn’t come. If the doctors said it was a virus or Adam didn’t respond to broad spectrum antibiotics, then Craig would have come.

“We’d separated.” She made a face. “It was nasty.” Then she corrected. “We were nasty. Trying to hurt each other. I don’t know if we could have gotten back together. I’d like to think we could have been amicable, put Adam first, all that.”

“If he was alive then he would be looking for you.” Scott sounded confident. “Maybe he’s in Baltimore now.”

“We can’t go back to Baltimore. Adam can’t take it.” Rachel looked down at her hands and then met Scott’s blue eyes, visible in the ambient glow of the creek. “What do you think our chances of making it out here for another three months?”

“You’re stubborn. And strong. Otherwise you wouldn’t be out here trying to set up a homestead.” Scott nodded. “But, you’ve got to let Adam be strong, too. You saw how he stepped up packing supplies in that house, but only after you stopped trying to do everything yourself.”

Rachel’s jaw clenched and she folded her arms across her chest. “I need to take care of him. Adam doesn’t even have the most basic vaccinations because he’s had over twenty blood transfusions. He could die from germs if he falls down and gets a cut; common germs that you and I wouldn’t even know that our bodies were fighting.”

Scott was quiet. Rachel wondered if she’d come down too hard on him, but all he said was, “So he’s a fighter. Bet he gets it from you.” He shifted his feet. “Thanks for sharing the beer with me. Think about what I’ve said about ley lines. It’s not magic; this is a science with rules. We just don’t understand them, yet. I’ve got to get going, but I’ll try to check back on you guys.”

“Where will you go?”

He pushed his chest forward. “I’m the last ranger. Everyone I worked with is gone. Our station was in the path of a fire tornado. I was out in the other part of the park. By the time I got there, the building was destroyed.”

Scott picked at the edges of a scab on his hand. Rachel had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to leave it alone or it wouldn’t heal.

“I first became a ranger because I believe in conservation and love the outdoors. I’m outgoing and independent with a sparkling personality….” He looked at Rachel for her reaction.

“Uh-huh.”

“But now my job description’s changed. I’m learning this new environment. I’m going to map out the area that I believe is protected between ley lines and try to guard this area of forest.” He was so determined, so sure of himself. “Will you be okay getting back to your house?”

“Of course.” Rachel looked at the creek and back at the ranger. “Be careful.”

“Can’t be. Park rangers always lead the resistance. Stephen T. Mather said, ‘Though small in number, their influence is large.’”

Rachel frowned. “Who is that?”

Scott shook his head with a sad expression. “First director of the National Park Service. I will quote him often, so please remember the name.” He faced her and walked backwards upstream. “Keep shopping, hide supplies away from the house so you have backup if your house is raided. I haven’t seen any bears or coyotes around, but they’ll be desperate for food too. Animals have a keen sense of smell so don’t leave anything out. If you’re still here in a couple of months I’ll help you build a cool house over the stream. Practice with that rifle we got today. Sight through the scope without shooting so you don’t waste shots. Just enough practice to get used to handling it and feeling comfortable. More survivors are going to be leaving the cities, possibly coming through here.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” She spoke without emotion. A kind of numbness had taken over until she could process the evening.

He misunderstood her, and kept talking about feeling confident with the rifle. Would Craig have hugged her? Ignored her? Kept talking like Scott was doing? “And, you can always use it as a club.” He waved. “Alright. I’ll be back when I can.” He slipped on a rock and wobbled. “Try to stay alive.”

“You too.” Rachel said. “G’night.”

Rachel watched him disappear into the forest and then walked home.

She’d joked that one beer had given Scott a buzz, but maybe it was affecting her too, because the sadness she hadn’t felt since they’d arrived was coming back. This wasn’t some fun homesteading experiment. If she messed up, she was the one responsible, and then she and Adam would die a stupid, horrible death. If Scott was right then it wasn’t only a checklist of food, water, and fuel. It was knowing if strangers were watching you, planning to steal your food. It was some type of new energy and bizarre new insects and plants.

Humans aren’t top dog anymore, a voice she almost remembered whispered.

Rachel went back into the house, locked the deadbolt, and grabbed another beer from the unplugged fridge. She was too wound up to sleep. The candles on the bookshelf were half burned. Still plenty of light. Rachel scrounged through the cupboards on the bottom of the bookshelves in the family room, pulling out a child’s drawing kit she’d bought for Adam years ago. She’d hoped he would like art, but he’d preferred the new soccer ball and net Craig had picked out.

Rachel sank into the carpet in front of the coffee table and set her beer aside. She poured out the art materials and turned a fresh page in the sketch book. It was hard at first, clumsy, but then, in the comfort of the candlelight, she began to translate her tangled thoughts into images on the paper.