River's Rising

by Dan McNeill

  She started crying now, hard. Raymond put his arms around her, wrapping them tight as the train passed over a bridge. She was shaking.

  "Jake's freaking out, running around the camp. There were more of us then. Me, Jake, my brother Jose. A few others. Jake's trying to find the Prophet. Me, I'm there trying to bandage up the kid. Trying to bandage up blown out fucking intestines knowing fully well that the little shit's dead. I mean how stupid!"

  Raymond held her tight. "I'm sorry," he said to her.

  Salome leaned into Raymond, laying her head on his chest.

  "So a few minutes later, Jake comes back. The Prophet's hurt, but not dead. The others though. All of them. All gone. Everyone was trying to save the little shit. I mean of course they were, right? He was a child! A kid, man! You don't see kids no more! They had to try to save him!"

  "Of course they did," Raymond said slowly. He closed his eyes. “So nothing's changed then,” Raymond said matter-of-factly. Without knowing why he found himself soothingly rubbing his fingers through Salome's hair. She looked like she needed it. Contact.

  "Yes?" she said to him.

  “The children...”

  Salome frowned for a moment, looking down at the splintered floor of the old freight car. In the darkness, she looked up at him with a look that could have been a smile. “You know what the Prophet told me Ray? Do you know what he told me when I was burying what was left of the little shit? God's holding all the children until we're ready for them again.”

  "So the virus," Raymond said softly. "It's still out there."

  "Course it is Raymond. It's everywhere. Barren. No one can have kids."

  "So what's the point then?"

  "The point is Raymond, we can bring it all back. We just need to find the 19. That's what the Prophet believes. And that's what I believe."

  Raymond let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "Fuck, you know, I just can't..."

  "What?" Salome snapped.

  "Process this!" Raymond yelled, punching his fist against the side of the freight car.

  "Well process this, hombre. Your brother Po? He's in danger. No matter how big Po became after the transformation..."

  "The what?" Raymond interrupted.

  "The transformation! You know? People with Down syndrome, they all survived the Rap, right. But most of them beefed up like pro-wrestlers. Why do you think the Chosen call them mules?"

  "So that's why Po got so big? It was part of the Rap?"

  "Yeah, a nice little side benefit, eh?"

  Raymond looked to the ground, his mouth agape. "All this time I thought I was feeding him funny or something."

  Salome shook her head, letting out a sigh. "This one's not your fault either Ray." Placing her hand on Raymond's shoulder, she stood up, carefully sliding open the door of the freight car a tad to let in a sliver of moonlight. She glanced outside for a moment. Leaving the door open a crack, she sat back down next to Raymond.

  "Not much longer now," she said softly. She said it in a way that made Raymond think she was ready. Like she was always ready for things to go wrong because they always did.

  “So Po," she said as she took a seat back next to him. She spread her legs out along the splintery boxcar floor and leaned in close to Raymond. "That’s an interesting name. What is it? Like Welsh or something?”

  "Welsh?' he said back with a laugh. "Nah, Po's not his real name. His real name is Peter. Po's just what everyone used to call him. Came from our Grandpa Frank. Used to call him Topo, after some puppet mouse that gramps used to watch on TV when he was a kid – you know, because he was as quiet as a mouse I guess. Anyway, when Po was like six, his kindergarten teacher asked him to tell the class his name and he apparently yelled out, 'Po'. Those were the first words he spoke and it stuck. No one’s ever called him anything different.”

  Raymond looked at her from the side while she continued to stare intently at him. Her eyes wouldn't let him go.

  "It's been a while since I had to trust someone," Raymond said. "But just so you know, I trust you. And that doesn't come easy for me. Don't let me down."

  "I won't," she said, turning around now to check the supplies in her bag. "Trust doesn't really come easy for me either." She turned to him and smiled, putting her hand on Raymond's knee.

  "Before the Rap, my life was..." She stopped now, shaking her head. "Well it was no Lake Como, that's for sure."

  Salome stopped and smiled, her dark brown eyes taking Raymond in. "But the Prophet, he told me different Raymond. He trusted me. Trusted me despite all my shortcomings and past transgressions. It's a new world he'd tell me and all of that shit from before is just plain washed away. He gave me hope Ray. And he told me about the 19."

  "Tell me about them," Raymond said.

  Salome laughed. "Really?"

  "Sure," Raymond replied. "Why not."

  Salome took the daisy out from behind her ear. Leaning closer to Raymond, she gently drew the daisy's soft white petals lightly across his cheek. The daisy's caress gave Raymond goosebumps and he looked back at Salome with a wide grin. Salome smiled back, holding the daisy to the sliver of moonlight before letting it go to the wind gusting through the cracks.

  "That's the 19 Raymond," she said.

  "What is? A tickle?"

  "No Ray, a fleeting moment of bliss in a world that doesn't give you any reason to expect it."

  She pulled her arms inside the sleeves of her camouflage hoodie and crossed them, resting her head on Raymond's chest.

  "Fleeting," she said softly. "In the months after the Rap, when us survivors sat shivering alone, wondering when it was our turn...In those times," she continued as if trying to remember a dream, "the 19 made themselves known."

  Salome put her arms back into her sleeves, pushing out her hands and placing them on Raymond's arm.

  "Fleeting," she repeated. "I have trouble remembering them, it was so long ago. But it happened. They happened."

  "What happened?" Raymond said, trying to be respectful.

  "Spectacular stories. All over the place, when we started coming out into the light again, you'd hear stories. Everyone seemed to have a story about the 19 heroes."

  "Did you?"

  Salome paused for a few seconds as the train rumbled across a rough section of track. She nodded her head.

  "Fire. Raging fire and smoke all around me. I was in my foster mom's house. I'm alone. All alone and had been for awhile now. I'm too tired to run and even if I could, there was no where to run to. I don't even want to run."

  Raymond reached over and put his arm around her back.

  "Then, the weirdest thing happened," she said. She started to cry. "I wake up outside and there's someone with me."

  "These 19?"

  Salome shook her head. "No. It's my brother Jose."

  "So he saved you from the fire?"

  Again Salome paused. She shook her head. "He couldn't of. There wasn't a burn mark on him..."

  "So, maybe he just was quick."

  "Well handsome, he'd had to have been Speedy Gonzales to have pulled that off. Jose was in Puerto Rico when the Rap hit."

  "What?"

  "Visiting my Aunt and Uncle. I figured he was dead like everyone else. Even if he wasn't dead, how in the hell was he gonna make it back to Chicago, right?"

  "How did he then?"

  Salome looked up at him, shrugging her shoulders as if to concede she didn't know all the answers. "He just did Ray. The one second, he's alone on a beach, the next, he's in our front yard. Me, I'm starving in a pit of fire. Then I'm saved. At the time, we were both terrified. We just didn't know. We felt their presence though. Yep, we both did. Our minds were too terrified still to let them in. It wasn't until we started venturing out, meeting others. Joining up with the Prophet. It wasn't until then that we learned it was the 19."

  "So you're calling it a miracle," Raymond said.

  "I grew up a gang banger from Pilsen, Ray. For me, a miracle was a weekend without someone you know getting stabb
ed or shot in the head. The 19 were no miracle Raymond. Now, the Prophet has his theories about the 19. How they came to be and all. But for me and Jose, it didn't matter. All we knew was that we were part of their plan and it was a good one."

  "What then?" Raymond asked. "If these 19 could do all you claim, why are we still in the mess we're in? Why's my brother still gone?"

  "I don't know Ray," she said, looking away. "About the time the Elected appeared, the stories of the 19, they stopped. No more sightings. Fleeting. Like everything else, fleeting."

  "Sounds like your new gods are pretty selective," Raymond shrugged. "But I'm sorry you lost your brother."

  "And I'm sorry about yours Raymond," she said. Slowly, she crawled up onto his lap. "I know you're your brother's hero Ray," Salome said to him. "Can you be mine too?" She leaned in, closed her eyes...

  Raymond felt the small of her back arching. Gently, he rolled her over to her side. It was something he didn't think he'd ever feel again. Sure, back in high school, he was a player. At least he thought he was. But that was easy. So easy. And the women back then? They were just as stupid and carefree as he was. Kids playing grown-up in a pop culture world.

  But Salome was no kid. With the jet black hair that fell along her bronze cheeks. Those eyes. Those dark eyes that saw life and death. This one was a woman. And she wanted him more than anything.

  Undressing, Raymond could hear the train's wheels clicking over the tracks. She ran her hands over his arms and over his chest and brought him inside of her.

  Raymond felt a different kind of Wonderland now. He was gone, for sure. But here. There. He felt her. He consumed her. Took her in. It was fleeting too. Not the act, of course. No, Ray knew how to keep it going. But the love. The simple knowledge that there was a connection there that meant something. Raymond felt it. He wondered if she did? It didn't matter in either case. Raymond would soon be gone. And he would never see this one again.

  The train's horn let out a blow and Salome screamed out. She gave Raymond a peck on his bare chest, stood up and began to get dressed.

  “Maybe you're right,” Raymond said as he put on his clothes.

  Salome let out a long drawn out sigh and leaned back as the train continued to rumble through the darkness. It seemed like it was starting to slow.

  "Right about what?"

  "About having hope," he replied, kissing her on the back of the neck. He knew how this would eventually all play out. How it had to play out, once he got Po back. Even still, he felt he owed her. Something. "I'm glad I didn't jump off the train."

  “Heh,” she laughed, slapping Raymond on the behind. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Where we're going now…maybe the best thing you could have done was to jump off this beast.” Shaking her head, she moved towards the freight car door. Opening it slightly, she peeked outside.

  Raymond looked over Salome's shoulder. About a mile ahead, he could see lights from two guard towers ominously crossing the night sky. The towers appeared to rise from a small island just past a bridge. As the train began to slow, Raymond could make out a bare flagpole covered with vines and a small building on the land adjacent to the island. A rusty green sign half covered with weeds revealed the words, Illinois National Guard Armory.

  "The island's Camp Glory," Salome said without emotion. She tightened the straps on her backpack, pulled down the sleeves of her camouflage hoody and kissed Raymond on the cheek. "Time to fly!”

  “What?” Raymond shouted.

  Salome turned to him with a mad grin, whipping open the doors fully. Kissing Raymond fully on the lips she crouched. And jumped.

  Chapter 6

  Raymond didn't question it further. He just flew. After three years of fighting through days filled up with carefully planned moments, he just flew. Flew into the unknowable unknowing of it all.

  Flew into the loud helicopter whumps coming from somewhere high above. The whumps masked other sounds. Growling dogs. Alarms. Screams. Cries. Raymond tried to shut them all out as he rolled to his feet and followed Salome through the surrounding forest. She seemed to know where she was going.

  The train they had jumped from was pulling into a station about 100 feet past what looked to be an old two-story gathering hall. Smoke still drifted from the locomotive's engines. Tall street lamps lit up the parking lot and the front of the building. It was an old VFW hall. Raymond could spot the faded outline of the letters above the double glass doors and blacked out neon beer sign marking the hall’s entrance. But the beer sign was about the only light not burning. This building was far from abandoned. Through its dimly lit windows, Raymond could see faceless shadows cloaked in white moving with purpose.

  Just past the building, a paved walkway sloped upwards, towards the track where the old freight train had stopped. Several men were busily pushing hand trucks stacked with crates, loading them onto the empty cars. He couldn’t tell from this position, but by their bulging muscles, Raymond guessed these fellows to be Triz. Like Po.

  Looking back at the adjoining island, he could see more lights. A towering brick chimney billowed smoke somewhere near the small island’s center. The top of a massive dam served as a bridge which led from a brick path near the VFW hall over to the island. Erected over the start of the bridge hung a darkened sign, which faced the tracks. It looked to be freshly painted.

  Another train was approaching on a parallel track. It began to slow as it came to the old VFW hall. As it did, a barrage of halogen lights - which looked to have been borrowed from a high school football team’s night game crew – suddenly flashed on.

  The lights cast the area in strange shadows. From the hall, the robed attendants emerged, moving with purpose towards the approaching train. Accompanied by armed drones, their scurried movements made the large sign hanging over the entry to the camp seem to flicker.

  Squinting, Raymond could make out the words.

  Purgatory Camp Glory

  Cleanse Your Sins. For Losing You Now is No Loss to God.

  “C’mere!” Salome said. “The other train’s coming.”

  Raymond followed her to a line of trees about twenty yards from the dam. Close to the sign, Raymond could see barbed wire fencing and a guard's station blocking the way forward across the top of the dam. The dam seemed even bigger from here. At the other side of the dam, Raymond could spot a smaller bridge leading down to the island.

  “Get down and stay quiet," Salome whispered. Crouching low, she ran over to a stack of empty pallets piled close to the tracks. Looking around, she signaled for Raymond to follow her. "You're gonna see some things here," she said as Raymond crouched next to her. "Things you're not going to want to believe are real.”

  They stayed hidden behind the empty pallets. The ground was dry and gravely. The wind whipped up the dust and Raymond looked out in horror. Drones with rifles raised approached the second train, unloading the cars and leading the disheveled passengers to the brick road that led to the island. All Triz.

  “How the hell can they fucking do this?” Raymond said, his voice cracking.

  "They?" Salome shot back defiantly. "Ain't no they. It's us hombre. We let them do this. Not the Prophet of course, but damned near everyone else. The Chosen say they're rounding up the Triz to protect them. To study them. To see why they lived. It's all bullshit, of course."

  "What happens to them once they're inside?" Raymond said coldly. The line of people exiting the trains seemed to be unending.

  “Once inside, they’re divided. Divided into three groups. If you’re big and strong like your brother, you go to drone processing. If you ain’t so strong, but you look like you got a few years left in you, then they take you to the Mess Hall. That’s mule training."

  “What’s the third place?”

  Salome paused, rising to her feet when the guards near the train were finished unloading the prisoners. "The third place is something I don't even talk about.”

  Raymond nodded, letting it go. “So what’s the plan?”


  “Plan?” Salome replied, raising her eyebrows. "Duck!"

  "What?" Raymond blurted out.

  Salome didn't have time to explain. Kicking out Raymond's legs, she tripped him to the ground, pulled a revolver from her side pocket and fired two shots.

  Rolling to his side, Raymond got up to see two Chosen guards lying dead near the tracks.

  "Here's our plan handsome," she said, running up to the fallen guards. Quickly, she pulled the robes off of the smaller guard and draped them over her clothes. She pulled the white helmet off of the guard's head and put it on.

  "Well don't just stand there handsome," she barked from behind the helmet's tinted visor. "Get dressed!"

  Raymond quickly did as she said, following her out towards the bridge where the prisoners were being marched.

  There were more guards here, supplemented now by drones. Raymond looked around at the other guards as they moved deeper into the camp, trying to match their gait and pace. The flurry of activity kept him off balance. The chaos.

  Everything seemed to be moving maddeningly fast. The snap of a whip crack startled Raymond to attention. He slipped his hand under his robe to make sure Remmy was still there. Slowly, he turned to see an obese Chosen guard cursing a young man with Down syndrome. The young man had black curly hair and had turned into even more of an ox than Po.

  "Stop holding up the line, mule!" the man barked. Shoving him aside, the fat guard screamed more unpleasantries at the other scared souls marching forward. The young man with black curly hair started to cry.

  But there were more than Triz here. Scattered packs of survivors just like Raymond were being herded through the gates. Men were separated from women. The few elderly in the crowds were chased like cattle. Children, what few there were, seemed to be an especially important prize. Chosen guards, their white robes dirtied at the seams with a mixture of mud and humanity, pulled them from the masses personally.

  Salome and Raymond paused, waiting for a gap in the herds and then ran fast to what looked to be a line of dorms. Angel-armored drones criss-crossed the yard, the red focusing lights from their helmets moving methodically back and forth as they scanned.