by J B Cantwell
We made it back to the car, this time staying fully upright. I had to fight the impulse to hold my breath for the next half hour as the car wound its way up through the mountains.
As I stared out across the beginning of the mountain range, the scenery changed dramatically. First, the haze became thicker, and I clapped my hands to my face, fearful that the poisoning my body was already fighting was about to increase. Then, something caught my eye, and I gasped.
Snow.
Up front, both Mom and Grandma sucked in their breath, clearly surprised. From down in the valley below we could barely see the tops of the mountains, and what we could see was stained brown by the haze. We hadn’t expected snow.
As we ascended, more and more could be seen scattered across the dead earth. Something loomed in the distance a little farther up, but I couldn’t make out what it was through the thick, gaseous layer.
And then, all at once, the haze disappeared. And I saw it.
Trees.
I had never seen trees before. Not like this. Not on Earth. The thin patch of grass that was carefully kept alive by those who ran the city was the extent of my experience with things that grew in the natural world.
But here, everywhere, the forest rested atop the mountains like a thick, protective blanket.
We had burst through the topmost layer of poison that lay across our world, and the sun shone brightly against the stark white snowdrifts lining the road. A thin dusting of snow rested atop the pine boughs, and the sharp smell of the trees immediately perfumed the interior of the car.
Mom slowed, and her eyes widened with something like wonder.
“Whoa,” she said under her breath.
In the front seat, I heard a sniffling sound, and I realized Grandma was crying, faced with a memory of what her life had once been like. Her life and that of so many others.
“Never thought I’d see snow again,” she said, yanking off her bandana and pulling a handkerchief from her purse, blowing her nose.
“Never thought I’d see snow at all,” Mom said, staring awestruck at the peaks above.
They looked at each other and laughed, a kind of choking sound as it came through their tears.
“You’ve never seen snow?” I asked.
“You have?” she said.
I laughed, too.
“Not here,” I said, remembering the snow planet I had found myself on so long ago. That was the first time I had ever come into contact with the animals of the White Guard. At the memory of the giant wolf who had saved me from the predators of that place, I searched the treeline, hoping childishly to see some hint that their protection had somehow followed me back to Earth.
“Well, I haven’t,” she said, leaning forward against the steering wheel so she could look up at the looming mountains.
I pulled my face cloth down and reached over to help Cait with hers, but it was already off. She sat with her back fully to me, her face glued to the window as the trees passed by.
Finally, when Mom started moving the car up the mountain again, we each rolled down our windows, all of us but mom sticking our heads out like dogs, sucking in the cold, clean mountain air.
The light that came down from above was sharper, crisper, than what hit below the pollution. I turned as we continued upwards past it and saw the haze lying there like a sticky film over the Earth.
Within five minutes of coming through the haze, the road gave a sharp turn to the left, and we saw a smattering of buildings dotted along the hillsides. This was the village Mom had been talking about. From inside the little dwellings, curtains shifted and curious eyes peeked through the windows. She pulled over when she reached a little store. No signs hung in front, but there was something more lively about the place than the other buildings, and several people could be seen staring curiously out through the thick glass windows.
Together, we all exited the car. Immediately we were struck by the frigid air, and looking over I found Cait already shivering. We quickly made our way inside, a tiny bell tinkling at the opening of the door. The place was cramped, but warm, and I was grateful for the heat when the door shut behind us with a thunk.
“Hello, there, stranger,” a man said. He stood behind a small counter, clearly indicating this was his place. Three others sat on barstools facing him, two with bowls of steaming soup set before them. They watched their friend carefully as he came out from behind and outstretched a hand. “Don’t usually see new folks come through these parts. I’m Amos.”
Mom took his hand and smiled, her face genuinely pleased. There was something about this man that was comforting, and not just to her. He was older, with white speckled hair and a scruffy beard, but nowhere near Grandma’s age. And he was unmistakably in control around here. Yet his eyes were soft and kind, and I felt relief wash through me at having come upon such friendly folk.
“I’m Dana,” Mom said, shaking his hand. “This is Cathy, my son Aster, and our friend Cait.” She gestured to each of us in turn.
“Nice to meet you, Dana,” he said. “What brings you all the way up here?”
Mom’s face darkened just a bit.
“We’re looking for someone. His name is Jack Wood. I’m hoping you’ve seen him around here before. He’s a little…odd.”
“Well, like I said, not too many folks come through these parts,” Amos said. “He’s odd, how?”
“He’s ill,” Mom said, her eyes never wavering from the man’s face. “He sees things that aren’t there. Talks to himself a lot.”
Just say he’s crazy, I thought.
But she stayed diplomatic in her description of my father.
“He usually lives down below in a little cabin, inside the haze layer,” she continued. “But when we went there looking for him, he was gone.”
“Ah, you’re talking about the hermit,” Amos said. “Didn’t know his name was Jack. Yeah, we don’t see much of him around here. He sticks to down below, usually. The one to help you there is Sean.” He stepped back and gestured to an older boy sitting at the counter, the one without the soup. “Sean’s pa works the mines down below, and I know he’s seen the hermit, or I should say Jack, before.”
Sean stood up from the table and walked over to Mom.
“Hello,” he said. He outstretched his hand with a confidence that was both forced and impressive. He couldn’t be older than sixteen, and yet he was obviously used to operating in the adult world at this stage of his life. Or he was trying to, at least.
“Nice to meet you, Sean,” Mom said, shaking his hand in turn. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“He’s probably down in the mine with Dad,” he said. “I’ve heard about him plenty of times. But we don’t have any way to get down there.” He peered out the window at the sedan. “That car reliable?”
Mom looked over her shoulder, shrugging.
“Well, it got us this far up the mountain,” she said.
“Haven’t seen Dad in a few weeks,” he said. “Usually he gets a ride up the hill with the food transport, but he wasn’t on the last truck. I’d sure appreciate a ride down and back. We were just talking about a plan to go down and find out if everything’s okay.”
“Of course,” Mom said. “There’s plenty of room for all of us.”
Sean turned back to Amos.
“You’ll tell Caleb and Lily where I’ve gone?” he asked. Amos nodded. “Make sure to tell him to keep up on his chores, too.”
Amos laughed.
“You got that boy working too hard, Sean,” he said. “He’s just a kid.”
Sean shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter if he’s a kid,” he said. “He’s still gotta work just like the rest of us.”
Amos shook his head, a flash of sadness steeling across his face.
“It’s a different world now,” Grandma said to him, smiling gently.
“That it is, ma’am,” Amos said.
Cait tugged at my pant leg, and I knelt down, meeting her gaze.
; “You said it would be over by now,” she said, her voice betraying just a hint of a whine. “I don’t want to go back down.”
“The lass can stay up here with us, if you like,” Amos said, smiling down at Cait. “Up at Sean’s place there’s even a playmate for her.”
I didn’t like that idea, of leaving Cait so quickly with unknown people we had only met five minutes ago. Clearly, Cait didn’t think much of this idea, either. She moved around and hid behind me, as if worried that Amos would force her to stay.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me here.”
I sensed no ill will on the part of Amos and the other men in the place, but I couldn’t blame Cait for her nervousness. Even I, much older than she was, would have been on edge being abandoned for what could be days with a group of strangers. I turned to face her again.
“I know I said we’d be out of the haze,” I said. “I didn’t realize we’d have to go back down so quickly. We won’t be long down below. But I think you’re right. We should stick together. That’s what I promised, right?”
She nodded, taking a deep breath and blowing it out, steeling herself for what was to come.
Sean moved over to the door and took down a big, puffy jacket. He wrapped himself in it and flipped up the fur-lined hood over his short-cropped, black hair.
“Back in a few days, I expect,” he said.
Cait gave a small huff at this. I wasn’t thrilled either, but I kept my silence.
“Don’t worry,” Sean said, more to Mom and Grandma than to the rest of us. “The mine has pretty clean air. It’s just getting back down the mountain that’s difficult.”
He opened the door and led the way back out to the car. Mom opened the driver’s side and Grandma moved to sit in the back with us.
“That’s alright, ma’am,” Sean said. “Anyone who’s survived as long as you has earned a front seat ride down into the haze.” He gave a flicker of a smile, but it was gone from his face nearly as quickly as it had arrived. Grandma exchanged looks with Mom.
“Well, that’ll be fine with me, son,” she said, opening her car door.
The three of us squeezed into the back, Sean in a window seat and Cait between us. Mom turned on the car and flicked on the heat, and soon we could no longer see our breath from within the tiny space. She turned the wheel, and together we headed back down the mountain, into the haze and the unknown meeting below.
Chapter 11
As we pierced back through the haze, none of us needed reminding; we all reached for our bandanas, wrapping them tightly around our faces. Sean, who was used to living so close to the chemicals, produced his own face wrap from the inside pocket of his coat. He looked out the window as we descended, and soon we passed by the little cabin where our search had begun.
“It’s not far from here,” Sean said. “Keep an eye out for a little road off to the left. It’s pretty hidden.”
Within a minute, his eyes fell onto a patch of earth that was more packed down than the rest.
“There,” he said, pointing.
Mom turned the car down the old, forgotten road. Twigs scratched against the windows where the trees had grown over into the path, what was left of the branches still sticking out in the spots more protected from the rain. The road wasn’t long, and soon we pulled up before what looked like an old, abandoned mine.
A tunnel was carved into the face of the rock, braced on all sides by beams of wood as thick as tree trunks. Mom killed the engine.
“Okay,” she said. “You say the air is clean below?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Not so clean as in the village above, but clean enough to breathe.” He adjusted his face mask over his nose.
Together, we all got out of the car. Mom made a beeline for the cave entrance, but I was relieved to find that we hadn’t been in the haze long enough to have too bad an effect on our lungs. I wasn’t dizzy like I had been before, though I instinctively longed for the clean air below.
Grandma and Cait walked up beside us, Cait hid behind Grandma’s legs, peering out nervously. Mom held out the one flashlight she had dug out of the car to Sean, and he took the first steps into the cave. We all followed.
I felt Cait’s little hand slip into mine. I took a deep breath.
I was here for my gold, nothing more. He had stolen it from the family home, Brendan’s home, and now I was about to take it back and use it how Brendan had always intended.
My feet wanted to walk on ahead, move faster, get this all over with so I could be on my way. But we only had the one flashlight, and I was forced by the rest of the group to move slowly. It was agony as they took careful step after careful step, while I wanted nothing more than to run. It wasn’t until Grandma stopped walking and yelped with pain that I snapped out of my focused pursuit of my father.
“Ouch!” she said, her voice echoing off the slick rock walls. She had knocked her forehead against a low hanging chunk of rock, and when Mom carefully removed her hand from covering it, I saw a small cut an inch long just above her eyebrow.
Mom untied the face cloth from behind her neck, then walked around behind Grandma and fiddled with the knot on her cloth. I stopped and spun Cait around and started to work on hers. But I shouldn’t have bothered. Before I had even begun to undo the knot, she had yanked the thing down below her chin, exposing her face. I followed her example, finding immediate, unexpected relief in the clean air of the mountain cavern as it cooled my face, which had grown sweaty beneath the fabric.
Mom dabbed at the cut, but then Grandma shooed her away, taking the cloth from her.
“I’m not a child, Dana,” she said, brushing past her and farther into the cave. When Mom stared after her, surprised, she turned back. “You coming?”
I smiled despite the momentary tension and exchanged a look with Mom. She sure was a tough old lady. Sean had continued on without us, and we shuffled along to catch up.
We all moved down into the mine, and the farther down we went, the warmer the air became. I didn’t mind, though. As long as I could breathe, any air temperature was fine by me.
“How far is it?” I asked.
“Not far,” Sean said.
Ahead, an old mine cart stood in our way, long abandoned along the tracks we were following. I touched its edges as I passed, squeezing between it and the wall of the shaft. The wood was still in good shape after what must have been decades, maybe centuries. My confidence in Mom’s judgement about the air increased tenfold upon seeing the good repair the cart was in, and I breathed deeply, trying to fill myself up with it before we had to go back out into the haze.
My confidence in Sean, though, was not so high.
I had spent more than my fair share of time inside caves and caverns in the Triaden, but something about this one felt different. Not necessarily menacing. But dead. I might have expected to see streaks of gold along the walls and ceiling of the place, hints about the treasure hidden within the mountain. But all that greeted my eyes was dry, brown stone, not a hint of shimmer anywhere.
I nudged Grandma in the darkness.
“How do we know we can trust him?” I asked. Something about being led into a dark mountain by a total stranger wasn’t sitting right with me. I had seen too many dark mountains.
She shrugged.
“We don’t,” she whispered. “But what choice do we have? We just have to hope that the goodness in people is still alive in this part of the world.”
Hope.
It was not an unfamiliar concept to me.
My worry over Sean faded away as we continued deeper and deeper, replaced with a nervousness so encompassing, my hands were starting to shake with it. It wouldn’t be long now. Any minute I would be standing face to face with my father.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
It was the sound I imagined my heart making in my chest. The sound of years of rejection. Of loneliness. Of apprehension.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I shook myself out of my stupor and realized t
he sound wasn’t just coming from inside my head. There was actually an echo drifting up through the cave. Mom sped up, her jaw locked tight, her face determined and as harsh as I had ever seen it.
This was it.
I was barely breathing, yet my body did as I instructed. My legs moved, my feet found purchase on the slick floor.
And then we turned, and what I saw took what remained of my breath away.
The tunnel opened up into a cavern that loomed far above our heads. Sean shined the flashlight across the space, revealing a gigantic underground lake, as still as a sheet of glass, within the mountain.
“Whoa,” I breathed.
But he didn’t stop. On the far side of the cavern, a light shone against one wall, and the figure of a man stood before it, pounding what looked like a sledgehammer into a hole in the ground.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The world around me seemed to blur with every step I took towards him, and part of me felt sure that I wouldn’t remember whatever it was I was preparing to say. Up until this moment, I hadn’t really thought about just how I was going to convince him to hand over the gold. I had thought, childishly, that he would just give it to me. That, upon seeing the son he had been without for so long, he would be inspired to help my cause.
It was too late now. Each step I took brought me closer and closer to him. Mom paused, waiting for me, and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, pushing me slightly ahead of her.
“Jack,” she called ahead.
I froze, but she pushed me onward. Terror suddenly gripped me, and I felt like a five-year-old kid again, watching my father as he put his madness through its paces. Watching him as he shouted at demons only he could see. Watching him as he fled our apartment, our lives, without so much as a suitcase or even a backward glance.
She must have felt my hesitation, but she didn’t let me falter.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Stop it! Stop it!
We were fifteen feet away now. Then ten. Then five.
“Jack!” she yelled, cutting through the noise of the hammer.
He stopped his pounding and turned. The headlamp he wore over his face temporarily blinded us, and for a moment all I could see was the round, white light as it bobbed in front of my vision. Then, seemingly understanding, he removed it, shining it towards the ground, instead.
