The Darkest Path

by Jeff Hirsch

  “Come on, Bear,” I said, and then I put my back to all of it and headed north.

  • • •

  Bear and I walked until we fell from exhaustion.

  We were at the edge of a cliff. The moonlit desert spread out below us, huge and blank. Bear went to work on his paws, licking at the pads and digging out small stones and grit. I put an MRE down in front of him, then tore open one of my own. It tasted as bland as sawdust, but I forced down every bite. As I reached for our canteen, something rustled behind me. I whipped around, thinking I’d see James coming out of the dark, but there was nothing but desert brush blowing in the wind.

  I imagined him back at Cormorant, safe in his bunk, but then all the things that could have gone wrong struck me. He could have gotten lost, or hurt or—

  I slammed the door on the thought. James got what he wanted. There was no reason to dwell on it. I poured Bear some water, then dug through my pack, searching for something to fight the chill that numbed my fingers and toes. I found two sweaters and slipped one on over my T-shirt and tucked the other tight around Bear. I thrust my bare hand into my pocket and lay out alongside Bear to share warmth.

  I closed my eyes, desperate for sleep, but nothing inside of me would go still. James haunted me no matter how hard I tried to push him away.

  I remembered one Sunday night when Dad set up our “bunk beds” — what he called two hammocks hung in the backyard garden, one above and one below. That night it was a reward for me and James behaving when we took Grandma Betty to church. Or James behaving, really. I was simply half asleep, observing the homily through half-closed eyes. James sat up tall in the pew, listening with his whole body. Even then I thought he was simply playing an expert-level game of “Good Son.”

  That night I lay in the top bunk mashing buttons on my PlayStation, with James below me. Mom and Dad and Grandma Betty were inside the house, just visible through the living room window. Dad was playing a new song for them. His voice mixed effortlessly with the jangle of his guitar and the tinkling of Mom’s and Grandma’s wineglasses.

  “Moonlight girl,

  Why’d you leave me so soon?

  I’m rambling and I’m ragged and I’m running on fumes.

  Moonlight road,

  Why don’t you lead me on home?”

  Eventually they went to bed and shut out the lights, leaving me and James alone in the dark. The creaking sway of the hammocks’ ropes against the maple tree made me think of the rigging of a sailing ship. I closed my eyes and imagined us as sailors at sea, crashing through the waves.

  “Why doesn’t it all just fall apart?”

  I had thought James was asleep until his voice rose up from the bottom bunk.

  “Why doesn’t what fall apart?”

  There was a long pause and I leaned over the bunk. James seemed to be staring past me and the tree branches and the wisps of clouds to the stars.

  “Everything,” he said.

  I sat up in the desert, clamping my arms around my middle and leaning over my knees. It felt like there was an immense weight pressing down on me from all sides. Something touched my jacket, and I turned with a start.

  Bear had his front paws perched on my shoulder. He was very still, examining me closely, his tan-dotted brows drawn together. He let out a breathy woof and I pulled him to my chest, inhaling the warm smell of him. My breath quaked in my throat as it went down. I let Bear go and he fell into my lap, drawing his legs beneath him. I tucked the sweater back over him and sat there with my palm on his side.

  I looked up at the stars. Among them, the moon was full and white. A ghostly snatch of music swirled around me.

  “Moonlight road,” I sang, hearing the chords in my head. “Why don’t you lead me on home?”

  Bear twitched and shuffled. I ran my hand over the gloss of his coat and pulled him in tight. I looked over my shoulder again, out at the miles of darkness stretching to the south.

  He’s where he belongs, I thought, and heard a door fall closed in my mind. I turned back to Bear and sang to him until he fell asleep.

  PART TWO

  9

  I woke at dawn to find a mile-long line of vehicles parked beneath the cliff we had camped on.

  Turned out that our hill overlooked a northbound highway that was now filled with a mix of Path and conscripted civilian trucks. The convoy was bookended by heavily armed Humvees and led by a minesweeper that had come to a stop and was surrounded by a small company of soldiers.

  All along the line, drivers had left their cabs to lean over their engines or pace impatiently along the highway shoulder. Bear stretched out beside me, watching the trucks with his ears at attention.

  “Supply convoy,” I said. “If we’re lucky, it’ll run right along the western front to the Utah border. Maybe farther.”

  Bear looked at me quizzically.

  “You feeling lucky?”

  Bear huffed impatiently and thumped the ground with his paws.

  “Yeah, me neither. Come on.”

  Bear followed as I crept down a narrow trail. Rocks and slick patches of dusty sand slipped underneath my feet. A night of rest had blunted the knifelike throb of my injuries, but just barely. Bear seemed better off, though, navigating each obstacle like he was born on a mountain. I had to keep a hold on his collar the whole way down, afraid that if either of us hurried, we’d be seen and it would be game over.

  We crouched behind a low outcropping of rock at the foot of the cliff. A silver-and-red eighteen-wheeler sat directly across from us. Its driver was circling his rig nervously, eager to go, and watchful. No help there. Ahead of him sat five more civvy trucks. Their cargo doors were open, but they were surrounded by groups of drivers talking and waiting for the signal to move.

  Bear and I kept low and close to the cliff face as we went down the line of trucks, studying each one in turn. We came to the second to the last, a beleaguered-looking blue-and-white tractor-trailer. The driver stood at the back by his open cargo door, pulling out and restowing pallets of bread and boxes of dry goods.

  There was a radio squawk from the cab of the truck, and the driver ran around to get it, leaving the cargo door hanging open. The driver in the truck behind him was nowhere to be seen, and the Humvees at the rear of the convoy were empty. It was our chance. I pulled at Bear’s collar and we both sprinted toward the highway.

  When we reached the rear of the truck, I scooped Bear up and tossed him into the cargo hold. I climbed up after him and he circled my legs, panting and pawing at me as I pushed us back to the far end of the trailer. I sat us down behind a set of shelving units that ran floor to ceiling down the truck. The driver’s door slammed again. Bear surged forward but I grabbed him, holding him back into my chest with my cast. I had to clasp my other hand over his muzzle to keep him quiet.

  Footsteps came down the asphalt on the other side of the truck’s wall. Bear tried to squirm away and I petted him slowly across his back to calm him.

  “Shhh,” I breathed into his ear. “Shhh.”

  The footsteps paused at the back of the truck, and I listened with every cell in my body, heart thumping. Boots shifted against sandy asphalt and then he climbed up into the trailer. I held Bear tight, but he managed to wiggle his muzzle out of my hand and loose one sharp bark.

  “Rup!”

  My heart seized as it resounded off the close metal walls in the truck.

  “Hello?”

  Bear squirmed as I wedged us back into the corner, my mind spinning uselessly, searching for a plan. The man started moving again. I needed time, and there was only one thing that might get it for me. I let go of Bear and he jumped into the aisle and ran to the driver.

  “Rup! Rup rup!”

  “Well, hello. How did you get up here?”

  Bear’s tag jangled as the man wrestled with him. I felt the butt of Quarles’s revolver sticking into my back, but I knew pulling it was out of the question. With so many soldiers around, the driver would know that shooting was an
empty threat. Still, I dropped my hand beside it just in case while I tried to come up with a story.

  “Somebody else back here?”

  Bear’s paws scrabbled against the wooden deck, with the driver’s boots echoing behind him. Next thing I knew, Bear was piling into my lap, and I was looking up into the face of the truck driver.

  His dark eyes were set deep within brown skin. He wore an untucked western shirt and worn boots. A chewed-up pencil was tucked behind one ear. We both froze a moment and then he looked out the back of the truck. I gripped the revolver, sure he was going to call for help, but then he slowly lowered himself to my level.

  “Got a name, kid?” he asked.

  I hesitated, my mouth dry as the desert floor. Had the Cormorant MPs released my name?

  “Henry,” I said, just to be safe.

  “Henry,” he repeated with a scant grin that might have said he didn’t believe me and didn’t particularly care. “My name’s Grey. Grey Solomon. When’s the last time you ate, kid?”

  “When did I—”

  Grey pulled a paper-wrapped package off a shelf and tossed it to me. “You’re as skinny as a leaf. Here.”

  Bear dove for the package, shoving his nose inside and pawing at the wrapper. Grey laughed and hauled him off.

  “Take it easy,” he said. “Here. One for you too.”

  He threw another onto the floor. Bear jumped off my lap and buried his face in it, snorting as he devoured a small loaf of bread.

  Grey turned back to me. “It’s okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  My stomach groaned at the idea of food. I opened the package and ate slowly.

  “Don’t know what it is,” Grey said. “But the thought of somebody not eating just doesn’t sit right with me. You’re a runner, I guess.”

  “A runner?”

  “You a novice running from the Path?”

  Everything about Grey said citizen to me, but there wasn’t the blaze of a fanatic in his eyes, just a kind of amused weariness. Still, it was best to be careful.

  “No, sir,” I said, keeping my voice small. “I’m a citizen. Farmhand on a ranch down south.”

  I moved forward, just enough so that my bruised face fell into the light. I set my cast on one bent knee, wincing as I did it.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “No one. I’m—”

  “Son…”

  “Our beacon,” I admitted, quickly formulating a story. “He was… doing some things he shouldn’t have been. Figured out I knew about it.”

  “And you saw a way to escape.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bear finished his bread and returned to Grey to beg for more. Grey pulled him close and scratched at his side.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Utah,” I said. “North of Salt Lake City. I have a few relatives up there.”

  Grey considered a moment. Bear yipped as a driver behind us cranked his engine to life.

  “Look,” I said, getting to my feet, “I don’t want to cause anybody trouble. I’ll take Bear and go. You can—”

  Grey stopped me with a hand to my chest. I could see his mind turning fast as he stared out the back of the truck. More engines started up ahead and behind. The convoy was getting ready to move. The truck behind us blew his horn, and Grey waved him down.

  “Okay, kid, you just stay here and I’ll—”

  “Yo! Mr. Solomon! Time to go!”

  Three Path soldiers jumped up into the truck. The leader stopped cold the second he saw me. He was bald and sinewy in desert-tan fatigues. A subtle nod from him sent the other two to opposite sides of the truck. Everyone’s hands were on their weapons. Bear jumped forward, eager to meet his new friends, but I held him back by his collar.

  “Who do we have here, Mr. Solomon?”

  I was about to jump in, but Grey beat me to it.

  “Mr. Vasquez! This here is my sister’s boy,” Grey said, as smooth as could be. “Adopted. He lost his folks in a Fed bombing raid. He was supposed to join us back in Yuma.”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Grey.”

  Grey turned to me. “And you brought that damn dog.”

  “He just followed me!”

  Grey rolled his eyes, then dug through a box on one of the shelves. “Look, fellas,” he said with a smile. “He missed the convoy and just now got caught up. I told his mom I’d try to get him back on Path and if I don’t, my mom is going to have my hide. You understand.”

  Grey lifted his hand from the box and held three big bars of chocolate out to the men.

  “He won’t cause any more trouble. I promise.”

  Vasquez ignored him, staying sharp, his eyes moving from me and Bear to Grey and back, his index finger tapping his trigger guard.

  “Your pack,” he said to me. “Take it off and kick it over.”

  I slipped out of my backpack and tossed it between us. Vasquez took a knee and tore through it, scattering my clothes around the truck. The revolver in my back felt like it was on fire. What if they wanted to pat me down? There was nothing behind the soldiers but highway and desert. Even if I managed to run, there was nowhere to go.

  “Satisfied, Mr. Vasquez?”

  Vasquez looked up over my things, eyeing me hard before turning back to Grey.

  “Like you said, Mr. Solomon, he’s your responsibility. He causes any trouble, he’s mine. Got it?”

  “I do. Yes, sir. No worries here.”

  Vasquez took the chocolates from Grey. Both of us nearly jumped when Vasquez’s comm squawked on his shoulder.

  “Wanderer One, this is lead. We’re alpha charlie and on the move in five.”

  Vasquez took the mic off his shoulder. “Understood. Wanderer One out.” He looked at me like he was memorizing my face, then signaled to the other two. They lowered their weapons, and the three of them jumped off the back of the truck. Neither of us moved until we heard the soldiers’ boots pass the side of the truck and disappear down the line.

  Once they were gone, Grey looked down at me and Bear so hard it was like he was trying to see straight through us. He didn’t need to say a word. He was praying we were worth it.

  10

  “That’s not the first time you’ve done that.”

  Grey didn’t take his eyes off the road. “First time I’ve done what?”

  “Lied to somebody like Vasquez.”

  Grey flicked his headlights on. We had been driving for hours and were now somewhere in Utah. The Californian front sat out in the darkness to our west.

  “I think he’s calling me a liar, Mr. Bear.” The dog made a pleased snuffle as Grey rubbed his ears. “Mr. Bear says it takes one to know one, Henry.”

  My mind spun for a denial, but if Grey planned on turning me over to Vasquez, he would have done it by now.

  “When’d you know?”

  “Pretty much right away,” Grey said. “You’re slick, I’ll give you that, but not half as much as you think. So what’s the story? You a capture?”

  I nodded. “About six years ago.”

  “Why run now?”

  “Commander decided I should be helping give people the Choice.”

  Grey downshifted as we came up a steep rise. “He the one who did the work on your face?”

  “One of his men, yeah.”

  “And now you’re trying to get to…”

  “New York.”

  Grey started to say something but pulled it back and shook his head.

  “What?”

  Grey glanced over at me. “Look, things may not be perfect here, but over in the Fed… I mean, do you even have any idea what the world was like before Hill?” Grey held up his hand before I could say a word. “Course you don’t. What are you? Twelve?”

  “I’m fifteen.”

  “Whatever. Back then, we were smack-dab in the middle of three wars and a depression that was getting ready to celebrate its tenth birthday. And you think anybody was trying to do anything about it? Heck no. Before Hill came along, politicians and
their buddies were raking in billions while regular folks starved in the streets. And that’s still the way it is in President Burke’s Fed. I bet there are folks over there right now who are so rich they barely even know there’s a war going on and wouldn’t care if they did.”

  The cab lit up red as brake lights flared in front of us.

  “Ah, man. Not this again.”

  Grey’s air brakes squealed as he brought us to a shaking stop in the middle of the road. Bear stood up to peer out the window as we sat there, engine rumbling. This had happened throughout the day. Scouts at the front would see something and the whole convoy would stop, waiting for the bomb team to check the road for IEDs.

  Every time it happened, tension settled over the convoy like a fog. Grey tapped the fingers of one hand on the big steering wheel, while the other lay ready on his gearshift. I could feel the entire convoy leaning forward and waiting. Fingers on triggers. Muscles taut.

  “They always find them?” I asked.

  “Last run I did, a troop carrier ran smack into one of those new ones the Brits are sending over. A bloodier mess you’ve never seen. Twenty men torn to shreds.”

  “The British are helping the Feds?”

  “It’s all hush-hush since Hill promised any foreign country caught interfering is getting a nuke for their trouble, but yeah, they’re helping. Just can’t be too obvious about it.”

  A trio of soldiers trudged up from their places in the rear of the convoy. I sank into my seat until they passed us by. Outside, the darkness lit up from artillery fire at the front. Tremors moved through the ground and up into our bones. Bear dug himself into my side with a whine and I stroked his side until he calmed.

  “You think he’ll win?” I asked.

  “Don’t think anything,” Grey said. “I know.”

  “How?”

  “You ever heard Hill speak?”

  “I’ve read speeches.”

  Grey scoffed. “Not the same. Not by a mile. I was at a rally out east, near the front, and he made this surprise visit to see the boys….”

  Grey was quiet for a moment, reaching over to scratch Bear’s head, while he puzzled something out.