Cab stops and glances at our surroundings. “Okay, maybe you’re right, this is no sprint; it’s a long-distance run. We better set up somewhere. Over here.” Cab walks me over a fallen pine, its huge trunk slowly decaying. The log lays between two other huge pines. Cab start hunting around the ground for fallen tree branches, finding plenty of them, but tossing most of them back down.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re gonna put up a little lean-to, look around for some vine, the longest and thickest stretches you can find. You’ll have to twist them around to sever them, I haven’t got a knife or anything.”
“Wish we’d grabbed your stuff before we ran off.”
“No time to worry about that now. Just grab some vine.” I do as he asks, and manage to get a fine armful of vine together, even if I half break my fingers twisting those stretches free from the forest floor.
Cab in the meantime has collected a few larger branches and is balancing them against the fallen tree trunk as I return. He takes some of the vines, saying, “Good girl, very good. Now we tie these branches together.”
“You think this’ll really protect us?”
“Nope. But it’ll keep us out of sight if he’s fool enough to hunt us in the dark. And it might keep any passing predators away, too. I’ll stay up, see to it none of them get too close.”
“But you’ll need your sleep too, Cab. And by the way, I’m not such a bad hand with a gun myself.”
“I’m sure,” he says. “Tell you what, you take the first shift and I’ll wake you at midnight, then you take guard duty.”
“Good,” I say, glad he thinks me capable of the job. He’s putting his life in my hands, and that’s something I find hard to overlook or undervalue. After all, I’m doing the same with him.
But that thought, vaguely suspicious and mistrustful, lingers as I sit down and prepare to rest before my turn on guard.
Cab stands up, but when I say, “Where are you going?” he stops with a smile.
“Hunting, thought I might see if I can find something for you.”
“We can’t build a fire at night, they’ll see us.”
Cab stops and nods. “You’re right, of course. What was I thinking? I guess I figured, y’know, they don’t seem to be that close. Also, it may keep predators away.”
“The smell of cooking animal meat?”
“No, Bethany, the fire, the fire might keep predators away.”
I stop and wonder what kind of predator has already gotten too close; within arm’s reach, in fact. Is he trying to create a signal to bring in his conspirators, I wonder, just as Lester warned? I have to admit, I’m not as smart or capable as I thought, and I know less about people than I imagined.
Could I be wrong again?
So I sit, laying against the fallen pine trunk. “Just stay here with me,” I say. “Tomorrow, we’ll find that road, we’ll be eating beside the warmest radiator in Smicksberg.”
“Sure, Bethany, whatever you like.” Cab sits up, just outside the lean-to, eagerly scanning the area. I want to stay up, because I’m not sure what he’ll do once I fall asleep. But I can’t fight that leaden pull of tiredness, my eyes sinking down, my body tingling with fatigue.
I say, “My aunt ... ” And my voice trickles away.
After an extended pause, Cab says, “Again, I didn’t know they were going to do it, I didn’t know anything about it until I heard it back in that—”
“No, no,” I say, in a voice as non-threatening as I can imagine using, “I just mean ... my aunt died, and ... and I was thinking about how little I knew her. We never spent time together, except for a few times when I was just a baby. Something happened between her and my daed, something I never understood.”
“Something ... of what general nature?”
I can’t help but shoot him an indignant look. “Nothing of the type you’re imagining, I’m sure.”
“I’m only asking,” Cab says, calmly, his voice rolling and smooth. “You’re the one who brought it up, I thought there was some reason for that.”
And of course he’s right; there is some reason for it; but what that reason is, I can’t be quite sure.
“It’s just ... kind of sad, that something separated siblings their whole lives, and both died so tragically ... what reason could God have for that, I wonder.”
“Is God to blame?” Cab asks.
“I didn’t say I blamed God, surely life and death can only be His domain. Anyway, I guess He’s not really what I’m thinking about.”
“No,” Cab says, “you’re thinking about ... yourself.”
I don’t have to think about it for too long. “Yes,” I must admit.
“You’re thinking about your own inheritance, your own part to play in what you think is a cursed cycle—”
“No, by no means that! I know it’s a blessed cycle, I know that now! I ... I just think about having siblings, and losing them, and how that particular cycle expresses its blessings ... in odd ways, wouldn’t you say? I mean, I lost my sister one year, and the next year or so, my father lost his own sister.”
“Your family was favored by God,” Cab says, “called to his presence, it’s a worthy and noble thing, a reward.”
“At the end, of course. But until then? Even in life, my daed was estranged from my aunt, then my daed from his neighbors, then me from my last living relatives. I mean, I’ve always felt a bit alone, isolated, adrift. I don’t feel that anymore, because of the love of God and the guiding hand of King Jesus.”
“If you have that,” Cab says, shaking his head, “I mean, since you have that, the rest will resolve itself.”
And I search my heart, which is filled with God’s love and strength, and all the determination I can draw from them. But I still hurt, I still long to see my mamm’s face again, feel my daed’s strong arms hugging me, hearing my sister’s laugh upon the wind just one more time. And I know I will, someday.
But not tomorrow, I hope.
My turn at guard duty isn’t far off, so I know if I don’t put my doubts to rest and get some sleep, I’ll never make it through that shift and then another day’s flight through the woods. So I must trust in God, and trust this vaguely suspicious young man that God seems to have sent me..
Sleep answers my doubting questions and quiets my struggle for wakefulness.
Perhaps, for the last time in my life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I’m sleeping under the lean-to that Cab built for us. He should be on guard, but he’s been fighting his attraction to me for a long time. And I have to admit that it’s a mutual feeling, that I like him as much as he likes me. But things are too crazy and chaotic for me to sort out my feelings for him, and I’ve had so many reasons to doubt.
But I’ve had plenty of reasons to be impressed, not the least of which is this escape for my life that he’s risking his own life to accomplish.
He looks over, suddenly seated next to me. He says something, but I can’t quite make it out. I lean up from my mossy bed, turning my ear to hear him more clearly.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I nod.
And Cab scrunches down a bit and leans over, so that his face is near to mine, hover above it in the dim darkness of midnight. “I’m glad I found you,” he whispers, “so glad.”
I nod and I think I reassure him that I feel the same way, but I’m so tired, I can’t be sure if I’m awake or asleep. I want to ask him if he shouldn’t be keeping an eye out, or if it’s time for me to take position so he can get some sleep of his own.
But I just don’t.
Instead, I say nothing as he lowers his face toward mine. I know he’s coming in for a kiss, something I don’t want to do.
No, I do want to do it.
But I’m not ready for it.
No, I am. I just don’t want to be ready for it; not now, not with all this that’s happened and is happening now. I’m in the middle of a nightmare that seems to stretch back two years or more. And in the last few month
s it’s gotten more intense.
This isn’t the time to fall in love.
But we are together here now, in what may be our last night alive on the Earth, and his handsome face is so close to mine in the dark, moonlight just barely catching his features.
I say, “No, Cab ... ” but I don’t mean it.
Sort of.
There’s just no time to figure it out. My life has been a swirling spiral of danger and shock, should I be surprised that most dangerous and surprising thing of all, true love, wouldn’t be found in the mix? And if this is happening, like every other inexplicable thing that’s happened on this crazed journey of mine, must it not be God’s will?
And if it’s God’s will that Cab kiss me, who am I to refuse?
He lowers himself to me and I do not turn away. His lips are supple, soft, but his face is larger than mine and his chin presses against mine with a subtle superiority. Our foreheads touch, his black hair tickling me slightly.
No, I tell myself, this isn’t right. They’ll overtake us if we keep doing this!
I try to ease Cab away, but he’s bigger than I recall, and stronger than I expect. I try to shake my head, but I can’t pull it away from his face, even as his tongue probes into my mouth, past my tightening lips.
No, this is terribly wrong! my inner voice cries out, and I press my palms against his chest to push Cab off of me. He does allow me to push him back, but only a foot or so.
Enough for the moonlight to catch his face. But it isn’t Cab’s face at all.
It’s Jonah’s face. And he’s smiling, grinning hungrily at me.
I try to scream, but there’s no air in my lungs, nothing to push through my quivering vocal chords. I push harder, to no avail. I look around for Cab, but he’s nowhere in sight.
I look back at Jonah above me just as he puts his hand over my mouth.
***
My eyes shoot open, and I strain to recognize Cab above me. He’s holding his palm over my lips, and as soon as I can start swatting him, he scrambles to lower both my hands with his one.
“Shshshshsh, take it easy,” he says, “I’m not gonna hurt you! Bethany, calm down, you were having a bad dream!”
I feel my arms go still as my brain stumbles into wakefulness. Cab lowers his hand from my lips and puts one finger in front of his own, another long “Shshshshshsh,” leaking out of his mouth.
I nod and look around. It takes a moment or two more, but now I understand what’s happening here.
Another dream.
Cab says, “Your turn for guard duty,” as he hands me the rifle. “Can you handle it?”
Can I? I take the rifle and force a smile. Of course I can.
“You just get your rest,” I say as I stand up to stretch my legs. “You’re gonna need it.”
Cab falls asleep quickly, and I settle in to my duty. The minutes turn slowly into a complete hour or so, and I reassure myself I’ve only got another five hours to stay awake, and then another sixteen of hiking through the woods.
And then, I still don’t know what reward awaits me.
I sit in silence for so long that I’m hardly sure I can trust my ears at all. All the bugs and frogs and things form a blended hum, so continuous it’s like no sound at all.
Then the cracking of a nearby tree branch grabs my attention, sending a shiver of anticipation through my body. I clutch the gun tighter, but tell myself, Relax, Beth. If those people are hunting you, either Lester Krebbs and his crew, or Jonah Stewart and his, they’re not doing it now. Anything out here is just another stupid animal.
But that doesn’t bring me any comfort at all, having seen what the animals in these parts are capable of, first-hand and up-close.
I stand up, holding the rifle under my arm. Another sound comes leaking out of the darkness in front of me. I squint, but the meager moonlight isn’t nearly enough to illuminate whatever it is making its way toward me.
Be calm, I silently remind myself. No reason to go shooting into the woods for no reason.
But more sounds in front of me tell me that there may actually be a reason, a very good reason indeed.
My life.
I begin to tremble, nervous energy rushing through me, my hands trembling around the rifle as the sounds get louder; crackling of leaves, and now a low growl.
I know what it is, but now it’s too late.
The cougar steps toward me from out of the thick flora, head low, shoulders rolling under that tan hide. Its eyes are glowing in the dark as it steps in to a shaft of moonlight. I recognize the black muzzle, the low-sloped forehead. I take it to be the same animal that leapt at my attackers after my chase from Westington, and probably the same one that attacked my own buggy on my way out of Smicksberg.
It growls a bit, nothing too loud, and it lets a long, slow purr follow. It steps closer still.
What are you? I ask it silently. What do you want with me? Why do you stalk me, keep me trapped in this primitive world of yours?
But of course, I can say nothing.
And I don’t have to.
The cougar gets even closer, to within a few feet of me. I stand ready. If I have to pull the trigger, I will. I’m not likely to miss at this distance, even in the dark. The only question will be if the shot will be enough to kill the beast, before it can claw my guts out.
I stand, waiting for the moment to explode in front of me, my body tense with expectation of that flying leap, those flashing claws, that deathly scream.
Instead, the cougar takes a step to its side and lies down in front of me. With its back to me, laying in front of the lean-to, the cougar gazes out over the forest, its tail twitching to any oncoming element.
The lion has laid down before me, I realize, like Daniel. And like with St. Paul’s own Thecla, it is laying itself in front of me as a guard. No harm can come to us now, not with this sentinel to protect us. I’m filled with warmth and relief, contentment pouring through me to know that God is looking out for us, sending aid when needed. I’m so tired, and I know with this brave cat, I can sleep a few more hours, gather the strength I’ll need for the day to come. So I sit in front of the lean-to entrance, Cab snoring away within, and let my eyes dip closed, the low growl of the lion’s purr reassuring me, lulling me to sleep.
***
“Bethany, wake up!” My eyes shoot open as Cab comes scrambling out of the lean-to. “You fell asleep! We got lucky.”
“No, Cab, not lucky; blessed.” He looks at me, confused, and I tell him the story of the night before.
He says, “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
I point over a yard or two to where the cougar had lain, and indeed the leaves and bramble are all pressed down in a long, oval shape. Cab nods. “Well, let’s hope we can count on his help when we need it.”
“We can,” I say, handing Cab the rifle. “Now let’s go.”
We hike up a hill for another hour or so and finally reach a ridge. Looking out over the ridge, we can see a highway several miles ahead, snaking through the mountains. I reach out and grab Cab’s arm, squeezing it in celebration.
“Look, Cab, the road!”
“We’re not there yet,” he says. “Let’s keep moving.”
That’s when the rifle shot pings off a nearby spruce trunk, kicking up chunks of bark. A split-second later, the rifle shot rings out behind us. We turn, ducking instinctively, but another shot rings out. On the ledge, we’re visible, so Cab grabs my hand and pulls me off the ridge and down the slope in front of us.
I can hear human shouting behind us, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
And I don’t need to know.
“It’s them,” I say, “they found us, they tracked us out here ... ”
“Stay calm, Bethany,” Cab says, holding my hand in his left and the rifle in his right. Another shot rings out, but I can’t make out where it lands. I know they’ve crested the ridge now, and they can’t be very far behind us.
“How did they find us?” I
ask as we run down that craggy slope. “The Krebbs must have told them!”
“Don’t know,” Cab says, “doesn’t matter, keep running!”
We scramble down the side of the hill. I’ve forgotten my big stick to trip the booby traps, but I hope in this fast-moving moment that we’re past them by now, or that we’re lucky enough not to stumble into one.
The rifle shots come quicker now, and I can hear the thuds and pings of the bullets as they sink into the birches and pines around us. I almost think I feel one whiz past my head, and I’m not sure if it’s struck me or not. When I keep running and don’t fall down dead, I know I haven’t been hit.
“Should we fire back?” I ask Cab as we run.
“We’d be pinned down. Keep moving through the trees, woods’re so dense, if they hit us at all, it’ll be outta pure, dumb luck!”
I follow him weaving through the trees, my feet slipping and stumbling over the wet ground. My body hurts from the injuries which never quite healed, but they’re tolerable.
For now.
Another nearby bullet reminds me of greater pains to come if we slow down now.
Cab stops, raises the rifle and shoots, then turns back and grabs my hand to keep running. And I’ll I can do for now is follow.
And pray.
Dear Lord,
Even now I know You are with us, I’ll never doubt You, Lord, not now or ever. But those dogs have beset me again, and I know I’m so close to doing Your bidding, to fulfilling Your purpose for me. You have sent me to destroy these people and their wretched town. This I know you will allow me to do, for You cannot fail.
But I can, Lord, and I don’t want to fail, not now that I’ve come so close. I don’t want to fail.
Another bullet digs into a chestnut trunk as we run past.
I don’t want to die.
But I know, Lord, that You do not need me to live in order to fulfill Your plan. I know I may already have sealed Westington’s fate, and the fates of those who ran it, by drawing them into the gunfight, out here in the open.
For just like with David, Goliath refused combat. He had to be forced to take up arms that he be destroyed by David on that fateful and glorious day.
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