Читать книгу Echoes of Newtown - Blake Fite - Страница 17

Dear Ma and Pa,

I surely know an orphan when I see one, but sometimes I forget I am one. I dream sometimes that I’m walking through the pouring rain when I come upon a house and walk up to the window. Inside I see a warm fire and above it hovers a black iron pot. Inside is a stew made from the most perfect lamb. How wonderful it must be to partake. On a slab of hot stone, a dough forms into crusty bread over the open flame.

I shift my gaze to the right of the fire and see a giant oak table. It must be fifteen feet long. It’s dressed for royalty with intricately carved wooden bowls and metal goblets brimming with cherry wine. The center of the table overflows with fresh greens dressed with olive oil and twelve kinds of vegetables. Just then, an aroma of cinnamon, oats and sugar traps my attention, and my eyes follow it to a steaming peach cobbler.

A massive and loving presence sits at the head of the table. He is at once every kind of person, every tribe, every color, every language—all in one striking stature. He must be at least six foot, seven inches. Joy overflows from his delight in the scene and his desire to share it with those who would join him.

But, outside, I shiver. My empty stomach aches for food, but even more, my soul aches for the courage to join the table. I wonder if, soon, I might find it.

Your son,

Billy

The Last Watch of the Night

I’ve done this before. I’ll do it again, Billy thought as he planned his final escape past Uncle John. This is it!

The hardwood floor posed the biggest problem for Billy. It always creaked right in front of Uncle John’s room. Like most great plans, this one would come to Billy as he stared up at the boards above his bed. How many nights have I dreamed right here from this bed. Billy thought about the evenings his Uncle didn’t take him fishing. He remembered the friends who were embarrassed to be seen with the drunk man’s boy. More painful memories flooded as he lay in his bed for the last time. His brow furrowed. You think you can trust a person … The only person you can trust is yourself.

The nuns at Rascal’s dormitory used to say the time between midnight and the last watch (right before sun-up) is when the saints should pray. The boys set this time to meet at the railroad entrance in Staunton, but before Billy could sneak out, he heard pebbles knocking up against the house.

Billy ran as gracefully and silently as he’d ever run. “Stop!” Billy whispered as loudly as he could without disrupting his Uncle. “You’re crazy. I’m coming!” The time had come for Billy to face off against the creakiest stairwell in the whole Shenandoah Valley. As his feet neared Uncle John’s quarters, a network of creaking sounds grew. They sang like a hungry street band.

This floor is louder than that ol’ cannon ball lodged into St. Paul’s Church in Norfolk, Billy thought.

“Zat you, boy?” Billy heard from Uncle John’s bed.

“It’s me, Uncle John. It’s just me.” Billy said in a manner not to further rouse his uncle.

Distracted, Billy stepped right smack on the worst board in the house. SCREEACK! Just then, three stray dogs barked.

“Get outta here, you dumb dogs,” Rascal whispered desperately from outside the house.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Billy thought.

Uncle John sat straight up in bed and felt around for his gun. Gun in hand, he wobbled toward the sound of the dogs. Billy, choosing speed over stealth, ran out of the house and off the porch.

Two of the dogs fought each other viciously while the third, a regal looking animal, sat nobly by, unbothered.

BAM! … BAM! … BAM!

Three shots rang out from the porch and the boys ran into the darkness. The barking suddenly ceased. In his stupor, Uncle John missed the seated dog and instead fired a wild shot that sent a piece of shrapnel right through Rascal’s earlobe.

Both boys heard the zing of the shrapnel as it passed by Rascal’s head.

“He nearly shot us!” Billy said, still running.

“I think he did.” Rascal answered. “My ear feels hot.”

When they came to a small clearing, Billy examined Rascal.

“Well, he sure did get you. Some sped right through your ear, Ras! You’ve been shot!” Billy said, laughing uncontrollably.

“Well, that’s a fine time to laugh at your friend,” Rascal said, clutching his earlobe.

“Here,” Billy said. He reached in his pocket for a metal ring he’d found behind the general store a few months back and slid it through the hole in Rascal’s ear.

“What are you doing?” Rascal said, starting to pull away.

“It’s a sign, Rascal!” Billy said. “You trekked through the dark woods. You fought off wild dogs. Heck! You’ve already been shot, and we haven’t even left Ladd yet. Face it, Rascal. You ain’t scared of nothing anymore. We did it! That’s a cause for celebration, I say.”

Rascal’s body settled and he got quite as he thought about Billy’s words. “You’re right, Billy. I ain’t scared of nothin—”

“Sshhh!!” Billy interrupted. “What’s that sound? Someone’s behind us. Did you hear that?”

“Stop it, Billy,” Rascal said, thinking Billy had conned him into thinking Billy was proud of him.

“No, I’m serious!” Billy said with a hint of fear in his voice.

A glow in the distance caught their eyes, and a sinister feeling fell over them. Silently, they stared in its direction and detected a human-like shape whose orange glow emitted from the eyes. The figure was as tall as a tree even at one hundred yards off. As they watched, the figure split into two separate forms with the second one being much shorter—only about five feet tall.

“You still got that knife, Rascal?” Billy said, keeping his eyes locked on the orange-eyed creature.

“Yeah, I—Wait! It’s gone!” Rascal said. “I must have lost it back with the dogs. Darn it all, it’s gone!”

At once, another figure emerged, seemingly from nothing. Wings stretched out several yards from either side. In all of its grandeur, it leapt in front of the orange-eyed creature, rendering it motionless. With the speed of a hawk, the winged creature swept up the orange-eyed creature and its spawn and disappeared into the night.

The boys stood motionless and silent.

“Was that an angel?” Rascal said.

Still shocked but wanting to set Rascal at ease, Billy roused, “We’d better stick together.”

The deep darkness of the sky on this night made each step more treacherous than the usually moonlit terrain.

“How are we going to find our way like this? There’s no moor!” Billy grumbled, angry he’d brought his friend on a fool’s mission.

“Look ahead. Another light!” Rascal shouted.

Oh, no. Billy thought.

“Let’s GO!” Rascal said, grasping Billy’s hand. The bright glow beckoned the boys. Before they knew it, they’d run three miles toward the light without once looking down at their feet.

“We’re nearly to the station,” Billy said.

“How’d that happen?”

The boys paused a moment and looked down on Ladd behind them. A few dots of candlelight still glimmered from the little town—maybe one was old man Garrison making his way to the outhouse, maybe another was Rascal’s old knife.

“This is as good a stopping point as any—only about two miles to Staunton” Billy said. “We got two fine trees here. Let’s get some rest.”

The boys sparked their flint to make a small fire. As they warmed their hands over the flame, Rascal said, shivering, “Maybe next time we run away, we do it at the beginning of summer.”

“You got fire, ain’t you.” Billy said. “Then you’re welcome!” he laughed.

Billy secured a sturdy branch between the two trees about three feet above the ground. “Grab some sticks about the size of your leg,” Billy said.

The boys leaned sticks along the horizontal branch on both sides until they’d made an A-frame shelter that ran the length of the branch.

“There,” Billy said. “Now that’s a proper lean-to shelter—just like my Pa taught me.”

The boys huddled under the lean-to shelter for their first night on the run. Maybe it was the wild dogs or orange-eyed creature or everything put together, but once Billy’s head hit the pillow, his mind began to wonder out loud.

“He left me all alone when he took my Ma and Pa,” Billy said as he drifted toward sleep, staring at the tiny slices of sky he could see through the stick shelter. “I guess He wanted me to fend for myself.”

Rascal kept quite as he usually did when Billy got personal until something stirred up within him that had him speaking before he could stop himself. “Wye, now you wait a minute, Billy! You got a raw hand in this life, that’s true. But if we’re just talking about hardship, there’s enough to go around. Now, didn’t your Pa lose a wife when your Ma passed? You said it yourself how he pushed forward to raise you up until the war took ‘em. Now how is a Pa able to do that. Maybe that’s God givin’ instead of takin’.”

Billy listened without interruption, still staring upward.

“Billy, you ain’t dead, and you ain’t alone, so let’s get that straight. If God wanted you to fend for yourself, you’d be dog food right about now, remember?” Rascal said.

Rascal surprised himself with his outburst but also found it satisfying. “Seems the more evil we see, the better God looks to me,” Rascal mumbled. He wasn’t sure if Billy would pat him on the shoulder or punch him in the mouth, but Billy did neither. They both pulled their blankets around themselves tightly and without another word fell asleep to the distant call of coyotes.

The First Morning

The boys woke with the sounds of nature. Birds chirped. Squirrels chased and jumped and dug. Somehow in nature, every character knew just what to do. Groggily, Billy slowly opened his eyes, then he jumped so abruptly that his head knocked several sticks out of the shelter.

“DOG!” Billy yelled, paddling his feet back and forth to get the animal off of his leg.

The dog calmly removed himself to the corner of the shelter where he sat up tall and looked at Billy. By this time, Rascal had opened his eyes and tried to catch up on the action.

“I guess he followed us,” Rascal finally said. “That’s the dog from your Uncle John’s.” Rascal reached up to the ring in his ear and remembered the events of the night before. Then, he reached a hand over for the dog to sniff. “See, this dog’s no trouble.”

Billy relaxed and pet the dog. “So, you just come in here like the king, huh?”

“Yeah,” laughed Rascal. “He’s Rex the King.”

“Well, keep up, Rex the King. We’re heading to Staunton!” Billy said.

The boys rolled up their blankets and ducked to make their way out of the shelter. As Rascal slid his knee forward to crawl out, he felt a long flat rock beneath where his head had been all night.

“Look at this.” Rascal said, running his fingers under the edge of the rock to release it from the ground. “It’s a knife—a real knife. A giant knife!” Rascal pulled from the dirt an unflawed section of flint about 10 inches long. It was the same knife he found at the museum. How did that knife get here, thought Rascal? It was perfectly straight with precise tolerance and balance—something he’d learned about at the dormitory.

“What do you know about knives?” Billy said, sarcastically.

“I know I’ve never seen one more perfect than this,” Rascal said.

“It’s dull as a rock,” Billy retorted.

“The balance! The tolerance! It’s unnatural. It’s … supernatural!” Rascal continued. He took hold of one of the larger limbs from the lean-to and lifted the knife to it. “Let’s see what you can do,” Rascal whispered quietly to himself. As Billy packed up and headed away from the shelter, Rascal snuck a hidden moment to test the knife in action. As willingly as a cooked carrot, the thick limb gave way to the blade, and a strong sense of confidence fell over Rascal.

“Holy smokes!” Rascal said under his breath, wide-eyed with excitement. Rascal had a habit of secretly tucking away items that seemed worthless to others, and while this item may have seemed nothing more than a dull hunk of rock to Billy, Rascal saw treasure. He wrapped the knife in a small strip of leather he’d salvaged from an old shoe. I knew this would come in handy! Then, he rushed to catch up.

This Is Staunton

“Here!” Billy called as he tossed Rascal an apple. “People everywhere, Rasc. Eat up. We must be getting close.” It wasn’t 200 steps more before the boys were surrounded by all manner of travelers—merchants and artisans, farmers and families—everyone walking with direction. “So, this is Staunton.” Billy stated with a hint of wonder.

“NEXT STOP, VERONA!” a voice shouted from behind a small window. A stately man with a hat marked “S” for Staunton spoke directly at the boys as they inched toward the window. “Yes, boys. Step right up to punch your ticket to the future.”

“It’s like he knows,” Rascal whispered to Billy.

“Two tickets to Verona, Sir.” Billy said, as he placed his tickets on the sill for validation.

“You’re just in time,” gentlemen. “Now, we don’t want your parents jumping from the train to track you down. You best hurry aboard.”

“Yessir,” Billy answered. The boys lugged their haversacks up the iron stairs to their seats.

“Rex!” Rascal exclaimed, seeing the dog looking at the boys from the train platform with unmistakable disappointment in his eyes.

“Let him go,” Billy said. “People leave. It’s part of life.”

“But we don’t have to leave him!” Rascal answered.

“What has happened to you, Rascal? Ever since you found that knife, you—” Billy stopped abruptly.

“STOP THIS TRAIN!” Rascal shouted. He ran to the front of the train and reached up for the conductor’s horn.

“Young man. That’s a ticket to state penitentiary,” an ominous looking conductor said.

As train workers began to gather around, the boys grabbed their bags and hopped off the train, running toward the rear most car, past about 25 passenger cars, with Rex running close behind. As they ran, the train woke from its slumber and began to roll forward. The last car was flat with no walls or roof. It was loaded with heavy goods nestled tightly together. The boys threw their bags aboard.

“This is crazy,” Rascal yelled above the dull roar of the train. “I can’t get Rex on board while the train is moving. I’m sorry, Billy. I just cost us our seats.”

“You get up there,” Billy directed. Rascal pulled himself aboard. “C’MON BOY!” Billy called from the bottom rung of the railcar step, clinging tightly to the ladder with his left arm as his body reached toward the dog. Rex leapt into Billy’s right arm. “Good, boy, Rex! Good boy!”

“Well, you might be crazy, Rascal, but you did it. You saved Rex the King and won us a ticket to good eating,” Billy said, concealing his fatherly pride in Rascal’s wild antics. “Looks like we’re bunking with fresh war rations—boiled beef and hardtack. Dig in!”

Ask Yourself

1 1.Billy has a dream to make it to Harrisonburg. What is your dream?

2 2.Rascal has had to face his fears on this journey. What is your greatest fear?

3 3.If your parent or guardian could take you on a trip anywhere, where would you want to go?

4 4.Billy seemed okay with leaving Rex at the station, but when it looked like Rex wouldn’t make it, Billy didn’t give up. Why do you think Billy changed his attitude?

Outdoor Survival Tips: Make Shelter

When you construct a shelter, take advantage of natural overhangs for warmth and protection. If no natural overhangs are available, construct a lean-to with limbs leaned against each other to form an “A.” The lean-to shelter is simple, strong and quick to assemble. Add leaves for insulation. Pine needles make excellent bedding!

Follow Billy’s Journey