Then it was rain, coming down in sheets and pelting the rocks. Rivulets of water ran at their feet, this time, unlike the hail, not black. Spouts of flood water sprouted from the canyon rim like hoses. Wade jumped up with the jug and stuck it beneath one of the flows, capturing some drinking water. He got soaked doing it but it was worth it.
Pepe watched him intently. He thought of the potential for flash floods; it was still pouring a torrent. At any moment, a savage flood could sweep down the river, now fed by countless ad hoc streams from desert arroyos above.
He looked around; there was no escaping it, no place where he and Pepe could climb to safety. The river had already risen about half a foot. Then just as he was about to consign them to the vagaries of fate, the rain stopped. There was a clean, pristine moment as clouds shifted over the canyon and the breeze died down.
The sun came out, bringing silence, a calmness like the eye of a hurricane. The scrubbed, newly chilled air had a scorched scent. He immediately took Pepe and led him into the sunlight so that they could both stop shivering. The spouts and waterfalls still cascaded down, but with less volume.
It's all run-off, he thought. The desert, parched and rock hard, won't absorb the water, which almost all flows into the river. The river needs it, he mused, but not the blood-like, burnt wood particles that have blackened some of it.
They both sat and drank from the jug. It was cool and delicious, with just a bit of grit. He felt them both coming back to life. But they were still starving. Clumps of sticks and logs floated past on the river; he knew they weren't out of flash-flood danger.
They sat by the riverside near Wade's makeshift "nest" and watched the green swollen river. With the sun back out, it was harsh; he needed his hat, which he pulled back onto his head. He moved them back into the shade. Maybe it was the slaking of his thirst, but for the moment he had time to think. Where were they?
Close to Lake Powell. The Glen Canyon Dam, or what was left of it, was going to block passage on the river…it would take a major portage to work around it and back down into the river heading south. But Jonesy had heard rumors that the dam had been breached, and that boats could get past the structure and into the Colorado going south. Wade wanted to go as far as Lake Mead, through the Grand Canyon, but somehow that wasn't looking very likely right now…the task at hand was getting them off this riverbank…
When he looked up, he saw a disturbance in the middle of the river. It was like a group of fish thrashing around near the surface. The frenzy of splashing moved towards them in the current, and he could see the heads of snakes and their slithering black bodies. Some of them struggled, their bodies making an "ess" motion, to reach the shore. But the flood-swollen river swept them downstream. Wade got his knife and a heavy stick handy. He felt himself filled with a predatory lust.
He went down to the river and got on top of a rock where the water swirled past and slapped up against its sides. The swarm drew closer and when it came alongside, he struck into the snakes with the stick, over and over again, aiming for the heads. He felt like he had stunned one or two of them; he gingerly pulled the slimy bodies out of the water by the tails. One was still alive and he swung it over his head and hurled back into the river.
He took two of the beaten snakes onto the flat rock where he struck them further on the head. Then he plunged the knife into the back of the skull of the first one, then the other. He turned the blade of the knife into the rock, and their heads rose with the mouths gaping open.
He had two snake bodies lying still on the rock next to him.
He looked at Pepe, who stood on the riverbank staring at him and aghast at the swarm of snakes that receded around a bend in the river. Then Wade burst out in impulsive, relieved laughter. "Well, this is breakfast boy!" And more…he thought, we can possibly use the skins…
He cut the heads off the snakes, and set the heads aside. Then he turned the bodies over on the flat rock, and slit each snake down the middle of the belly. Pepe came over and watched with intense curiosity.
"Don't go near those heads!" Wade called out. He'd bury them in the river mud later.
When he'd finished slitting the snakes down the middle, he carefully tore each skin off of the muscle, bones, and entrails. He made sure to do it slowly to get each skin off intact. It peeled back stiffly like duct tape off of a roll. He left the gooey muscle, spinal cords, and guts on the rock in the sun. He assured himself it was highly edible, even as he had no matches for a fire.
The skins he also left to dry on the rock. Then he stepped back off the rock to admire his bloody work. "I wish I got more than two," he said. "But I guess beggars can't be choosers." He bent over and washed his hands in the river. He went back to inspect the skins, which were taut, scaly, and slick on their undersides. He turned them over so the insides faced the sun. They began to smell odorous, but not as stinky as he'd smelt some dead animals before.
The battle with the snakes left him suddenly bone weary, so he took the opportunity to lay back against the warm rock. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he watched Pepe toss small rocks into the river, which meandered by with a mellow current. A dry wind blew through the canyon. It's getting time to leave, he thought; we can't linger here forever and live off of snakes…he stood up, fetched the knife, and spread his shirt over the dry rock. He placed the glistening snake bodies on the shirt and cut them up into small, bite-sized pieces, sawing with the knife. The two skulls lay with a reptilian, malignant stare off to the side.
Then he picked up one of the morsels and began to chew. It was tough and fibrous, but it felt great to have some nourishment in his mouth. "Delicious," he announced to Pepe, then smiled. "Here, you try one…" Pepe came over and he handed the kid a piece. The boy was so hungry he was willing to try it.
He looked at the snake meat skeptically in his hand, then he placed it in his mouth. It made a bulge in his cheek, and he slowly chewed around a scowl. Wade laughed, then uncontrollably, and the tension leached out of his body.
"Why that's a delicacy around these parts! We'll call it…a Utah taco! I'll have another one myself…hmm yum…one of the only good things I can get my son to eat is salmon," he said around his own vigorous chewing. "This tastes like salmon to me. Or chicken…Chew it up well kid, before you swallow…"
Pepe sat chewing in slow motion, unhappily, but at least he didn't spit it out. And they had a full bottle of water…then he looked at the river again, now moving swiftly toward Glen Canyon, and the others in the raft somewhere downstream.
CHAPTER 24
He'd used the snake skins to tie together the collection of sticks and brush into a crude raft. It hardly had enough bulk to hold the two of them, even as its appearance didn't inspire confidence. As Wade placed it into the shallow water, Pepe stood on the riverbank, looking solemn and skeptical. They'd both eaten a handful of tough, squishy snake meats, and Wade had stored the rest of them in a fist-sized mass in his pocket. Then he stepped into the water, one hand steadying the raft.
A rock beside him slowed the current, then it picked up speed and swirled downstream about a meter beyond. "C'mon," he said. "We're going to see your family now." Pepe wandered tentatively into the water. When he got up to about his waist, Wade hooked him gently and they both settled down stomach first on what seemed more like a large shrub, about five by five feet, yanked out of the shore roots and all. Their feet dangled in the water, and it was with marginal relief that Wade pushed them into the current using his feet on the river bottom. He watched their riverbank sanctuary fade as they entered the stream.
They were going quite fast it seemed, but their weight pulled the raft down so that only the upper third of it showed above water. He told the boy to kick. He wanted them to continue facing forward, because he knew nothing about any rapids coming up ahead. For that reason, in part, Wade tried to steer them close to the shore. The water was not cold; it was lukewarm where the sun had been baking its surface.
Only occasionally would hi
s feet touch the bottom, which he concluded was made up of rocks embedded in large stretches of sand and mud. He focused on keeping Pepe on top of the raft; he urged him to scurry farther on top of it, so that only his feet scraped the river's surface.
Wade tried to reason with himself so that he wouldn't revert to the prior angry panic; we're moving in the right direction…we've had food and drink…the water is keeping us cool…there was nothing else I could do…The sun was back out and beat relentlessly upon their heads and bodies. He also didn't want to torment himself with the ludicrousness of his plight, how a series of decisions had left him without his gear and with a failed ability to make any real progress towards his lost daughter Kara.
Pepe had a look of determination; his mouth was set and his brown eyes were open wide. The canyon had gotten deeper. The rock that rose on either side was yellowish beige, looking brittle and millennia old. Never touched by man.
The river had sweeping bends in it and Wade looked up at the vacant canyon rim. Occasionally a black bird flew overhead; he took it as a good sign that he saw no men looking down on them. The friends would be on the river, he concluded.
A crescent of sunlight breached the rim. He thought of the snakes; within minutes they entered a place where the water was more agitated, but on that spot the current only pulled them faster and farther downstream. The river flattened again. The snakes had to be far away now, he thought.
He really had no plan except to float throughout most of the day, until possibly they found someone.
At times he experimented with kicking and steering, and he reached the point where he could rotate the mass of sticks 90 degrees clockwise toward the shore. Then he tried it in the other direction; it worked. The raft seemed to be holding together, for now.
He took a deep breath; the river around them had no real scent, the air having been distilled by the recent rains. They'd traveled for a couple of hours at most, but that would be about eight miles. It was a pure desert river, he thought, an ancient passage that could have been known well by only hardy inhabitants from centuries ago. There weren't even any plants on the shoreline; it was water passing through stone. He and Pepe could only think about one hour ahead of them, and hope to survive.
Pepe was silent; he didn't cry or whimper. He did not quite understand how frail their mode of transportation was, Wade thought, but Pepe's spirits seemed to be lifted by the momentum itself, of their movement down the river. Wade was glad, because there was nothing much encouraging he could say anymore to Pepe. One time Pepe took his eyes off the river and he caught him looking his way, and Wade said, "We're in this together kid, just the two of us pal…"
The wind picked up. It offered some relief from the heat cooking their heads; he'd wetted and draped their shirts over their heads and necks. He realized that rough waters ahead had caused the breeze to pick up. The current quickened. "Hold on!" he said. The river seemed deeper and they bobbed up and down in a chop, which slapped against the sides of the canyon.
Then a kind of Vee appeared in the current, pointing downstream, and they were sucked down into its narrow chute. They were spat out into a stormy funnel, which rotated Wade's raft of enmeshed sticks out of control. He gripped Pepe with one arm and the fragile craft with the other. They were suddenly like two people who'd been ripped from the shoreline against their will. The canyon was thrown into shadow; they barreled around another bend.
Wade realized that the puny, fragile nest that they clung to would be smashed to smithereens against rocks that rose against the side of the canyon. He and poor Pepe would be flung into the current and separated in the maelstrom, which had taken him by surprise.
But it didn't…He kept one arm on Pepe and the other flung over the top of the raft, and for minutes it held together.
"Ahh!" Pepe screamed over the roar of the water, pointing with his skinny arm. "Allí! Por ahí! Look!" Wade looked up and around the bend ahead he could see Jonesy's raft moored against the rocks. It was near what looked like the mouth of a river. But the boat was empty.
CHAPTER 25
The river was fast and carried them past the raft. At the river mouth, the current slowed again. He couldn't see anyone on the raft's deck, but he did notice, from a short distance, piles of possessions and bedding.
"Hey! Anyone there!" he yelled out as they floated beyond the mooring. Then he frantically began paddling and rowing with his right arm, toward the riverbank. It seemed the river had become shallower where the nearly dried up, smaller tributary flowed into it. They still had to be miles from the Glen Canyon Dam, he thought, but finding Jonesy's boat was a major development. He sensed salvation; his previously low spirits soared over the empty canyon rim.
The landscape remained only sun-blasted rock with the river carving its lonely course. Nothing grew along the sides, and it would be featureless desert above. Still, he longed to be on solid ground again.
He continued to steer and row toward the shoreline as they drifted out of site of the raft, until he felt his feet touch the bottom. The current was gentle now. He was beyond exhaustion, but a raw gratitude flowed through him. He walked the "boat" to the riverbank, then he told Pepe to let go. Pepe waded safely ashore with the gentle water up to his thighs, and pulled himself onto a sunny, flat rock. He lay there motionless.
Wade stood with water calmly flowing around his knees. They would still need to make their way back to the raft along the shoreline, but it seemed not even 200 meters, and the river mouth they'd passed upstream offered dried mud flats for them to walk on.
He already thought of all the things he could do when they reached the raft, and they didn't all involve reuniting with his friends. That made him think of food; with one hand he felt around for the now water-logged snake meat.
He looked up into the sky, penetrating and blue. He'd grown what he figured was an uneven and matted beard; his longish brown hair was mingled with sweat and river water and plastered along the side of his cheek. The top of the canyon swooned and seemed to drift the more he stared at it, as if it too was connected to the Colorado's current. He had a wordless, nonspecific moment of prayer. He looked down, then he let go of his ad hoc raft, reluctantly. It was quickly caught up in the current, then made its way like flood debris to the middle of the river, rounding a bend and disappearing.
They ate the rest of the snake meat, chewing slowly until Pepe spit the last of his out. "I don't blame you…" Wade said, wondering what they'd find to eat on Jonesy's boat. Perhaps nothing…maybe that's why no one seemed to be there, yet maybe it was only a question of someone asleep under the canvas lodged like a sail in the middle of the raft. Maybe they hadn't heard Wade cry out.
They made their way barefoot along the side of the river. Wade had rescued the bloated pants that had barely helped keep his raft afloat; he untied the pant legs and put them on, then tied his shirt around his head to block the sun. They scrambled over a few rocks; each part of his body felt tender and strained, from his knees to his lower back to the neck. He was glad they didn't have far to go.
They walked across the hard-pan mudflats, which had dried into wafers of old river bottom. They still had to cross the other river to get to Jonesy's raft. It was shallow and he held onto Pepe's hand and they carefully made their way to the opposite shore. The water was warm and brackish; different than the river. They reached the other side and covered the rest of the distance to the raft; still no sign of the others.
Wade instantly felt utter exhaustion; the extent of effort required to scrape out survival with a child hit him like a ton of bricks. He muttered to Pepe to stay on the wooden deck of the raft, and when they'd climbed up onto it, he passed out completely. He lay on his stomach on one of the bedrolls that remained. He'd felt guilt that he didn't search for food or water for Pepe first, but sleep came to him violently, like someone pulling a dark cloth over his head and pushing him onto the floor.
He woke up to no noise or light, responding to what was like a natural signal that his body
was somewhat restored. He propped himself up on one elbow. A bearded man stood over him, smiling maniacally.
CHAPTER 26
"You mangy old catfish–look what the cat dragged in! By God, I didn't recognize you. I thought you was long gone, done for, with the boy! Carmen and Javi are going to be just ecstatic. Jesus, I can hear her now!"
It was Wiley. Wade was bleary and didn't recognize him at first, then he was flooded with relief.
"The boy's around right?"
"Pepe? The little squirt. You bet he is. He's over there eating. I scraped him together some grub."
"You have some more?"
"Damn right. I'll get you some."
Still laying on his side, Wade felt around beneath the hair on his head and came away with a little blood. He'd cut himself and hadn't even noticed.
"Yeah, you're a mess, that's for sure," Wiley said. He fetched a pan and placed it down at Wade's feet. It had a big spoon stuck in a lump of rice and beans. Wade sat cross-legged and had at the food ravenously, like a prisoner just liberated from isolation. He listened to Wiley. Strangely, the man appeared to be in a better mood than he was farther upstream, when he seemed to be sulking over the loss of his truck, and their risky, near aimless journey.
"The others are down the river apiece, where there's good people, and even better food. I'll take you there later. I just came back to check on the raft."
"What river is this?"
"The Escalante. Ain't what it used to be. But nothing is now a' days…"
"You said you found some people?"
"Yeah, holed up in a slot canyon off the river. Damned if they haven't found a way to survive and thrive in this wasteland. They've got fish, and snake and lizard, and a cache of flour and eggs. They know how to scavenge and live off the land about as well as any…"
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