Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (45 page)

Life on the other side was just too different, too remarkably complete. Living a physical life, John had learned, was more like being a captive prisoner. There were so many restrictions, and too much was in the way, blocking perceptions and awareness. Being physical was cool, but he still wasn’t convinced it was all it’s cracked up to be, especially given what he saw and experienced.

“You’re right,” he said. “It doesn’t bother me. I don’t know why, but that’s the truth of it.”

“You actually like it?” marveled Bonnie.

John snorted and said, “Like is a relative word, Bonnie. Let’s just say I’ve come to accept and appreciate it.”

“What about you? Don’t you have a choice in the matter?” asked Jenna.

“Choice is an interesting concept. My choices are based on what I know, and I know things you don’t. I know what’s on the other side, so my choices will always be different from yours. Besides, what if I told you your choices were already made . . . before you came here?”

“Arggg,” was the simultaneously reply from both women.

John laughed and said, “Look. I think about this kind of stuff all the time. I really do. But to answer your questions: No, I don’t think I’m rubbing off on you; Yes, I think everyone is open to these dreams . . . that something has happened, or is still happening, to bring them about; And yes, I do like what I do. But I’ll never do anything to hurt you guys. You trusted me before we left, and I need you to keep trusting me. Can you do that?”

“Tell him about the dream, Bonnie,” said Jenna, in answer to John’s request for trust.

“No. You tell him,” she replied.

“Seriously, you two,” added John.

“Alright. Fine. It was like this,” said Jenna. “But first off, it was a little weird.”

“A lot, weird,” added Bonnie.

“Look, do you want to tell it?” said Jenna, as she turned to look at Bonnie.

“Shutting up,” replied Bonnie, as she leaned back in her seat.

“Ok,” said Jenna, “It had to be in the future because everything was fine. I mean, everything was safe and happy, like the disaster was over and everyone was really getting along. It was a beautiful day, like springtime, and I was walking toward some sort of a market or fair.

“I was wearing different clothes though, like something homemade. My dress was some kind of linen, cream-colored, and very comfortable. My shoes were made of soft leather, almost like moccasins, and I could feel the path under my feet as I walked.

“There was a lot of people at the fair, at least a hundred. And there was farm stuff everywhere, like horses, chickens, cows, dogs . . . just about every kind of farm animal you could think of was there, either in stalls and cages, or being led around by a rope.

“There were a lot of fruit and vegetable stands, and people selling and trading for fresh baked bread, dried meats, cheeses, and a lot of other things. I saw a man sharpening knives, and an old woman selling honey and herbs.

“But I just had to stop at this table where a woman was selling soap. I remember lifting a bar to my nose and breathing it in deeply. It was lavender, and it smelled absolutely divine,” said Jenna, as she recalled the experience with obvious fondness.

“Tell him the good part,” urged Bonnie.

“I’m getting there,” said Jenna, as she held up a hand to shush Bonnie. “Anyway, I kept walking through the fair, taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells around me. Oh, and the flavor. The bread, with the honey butter, was to die for. It’s making me hungry just thinking about it.”

Bonnie cleared her throat, and Jenna stuck her tongue out at her before continuing. “It was then that I saw Bonnie. She was standing in front of a table with wooden toys. She had a toddler in her arms, a little boy. She was wearing a big floppy straw hat, so I didn’t recognize her at first. Anyway, I just knew it was her when I saw her, so I called her name. When she turned around we ran together and hugged. I almost squeezed that little boy right out of her hands.”

“It was my baby,” added Bonnie. John looked at her in the rearview mirror and saw that she was crying tears of joy.

“Party pooper,” said Jenna.

“You remember it the same way, Bonnie?” asked John.

“Wait. Let me finish!” said Jenna, and she smacked John playfully on the arm.

“Sorry. Go ahead,” he said.

“So after we hugged, and talked, and laughed together, we walked through the fair. And John, I saw Abby. She was there, all grown up, looking tall, and beautiful. I cried when I saw her, John,” said Jenna, as she began to cry along with Bonnie. She quickly reached for some tissues, and after taking one for herself, she handed the small packet to Bonnie.

A thrill, like so much raw energy, filled John at Jenna’s mention of Abby. “You saw Abby?” he asked, too excited to hide his joy.

“I did, John. And honey, I saw everyone else too. I saw Marissa and all her kids. I saw everyone but you, Pete, and Paul. But I wasn’t worried
because I knew you guys were away, doing something important. I just don’t remember what it was.

“Oh, and get this, I saw Adam on a horse. He was playing football in a field with at least a dozen other young men on horseback. I saw his wife, John! She was watching him play, and holding a little baby in her arms. I got to hold the baby, John. Please, honey. Tell me it will all come true,” she finished, as she blew her nose into a tissue, and laughed while she cried.

“Bonnie. Do you remember it like that?” asked John, giving himself time to digest everything that he heard.

“Well, not exactly. I mean, mine was from my own perspective. But it’s like Jenna said. We spent the day together at the fair. Everything I remember, she remembers. It’s like we shared the same dream,” replied Bonnie. “How weird is that?”

“How did it all end?” asked John.

“We went home. Nothing spectacular. I mean, the dream, the vision, whatever it was, was as real as anything I’ve ever experienced,” said Bonnie.

“Same for me,” said Jenna. “Was it a vision, John? Was it a glimpse into the future?”

“One possible future,”
thought John. He remembered hearing the words, “Knowing the future changes the future,” but he couldn’t remember who said that to him. Still, he didn’t think their vision revealed anything more than a distant possibility. By John’s reckoning, it sounded something like five or six years down the road, and that was a long-distance vision.

As he considered how best to present his opinion on the matter without giving them false hope, or crushing their dreams, it was obvious to John that Jenna and Bonnie were completely invested in the visionary experience. And he wasn’t about to crush their hope with the cold water of his cynicism. Hope was a good thing, even if it was a long, hard road to find it.

Besides, given everything he’d seen, he was the last person to question their vision. A good part of him was filled with relief that Jenna actually experienced something spiritual she could relate to. Had she been involved in any number of other harsh experiences, it would have pushed her deep underground. Giving her a vision of hope, with happiness and family, was both useful and artful. He was glad for it.

Realizing they were still patiently waiting for him to answer, he said, “I believe everything you saw was real,” said John. “But you have to understand something, where that place is, in relation to space and time, is far ahead of us. We have to get there, first. And sometimes the road traveled is the hardest part of the journey.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bonnie.

“I mean just that, we have to get there. I’m telling you this because usually, well, let’s just say things happen for a reason. Let me ask you this, why do you think God would give you a shared vision?” asked John.

“So we know everything will turn out alright,” replied Jenna.

“Yes. Exactly. And why do you think such a purpose is necessary?” asked John, as he lowered the window.

“Oh my word. Did you just fart?” shrieked Jenna, as she lowered her window.

“It will be gone in a minute. Sorry Bonnie,” replied John. Bonnie had her head out the window and didn’t seem to hear him. Once, after the cab was sufficiently aired and the windows rolled back up, John asked, “Now where were we?”

“You think things will get bad for us, don’t you? I mean, really bad. You think we needed that vision just to make it to the end,” asked Jenna.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” said John. “What matters is how you guys deal with what comes our way. If you remember what you saw, if you hold on to it with all your hearts, then yes, I believe it will come true.”

“Wow,” said Bonnie. “You sure know how to rain on a girl’s parade.”

“I’m sorry, Bonnie. But you’re missing the point. If life turns out as your saw it, then what does it matter how you get there? You’re there, right?”

“Yeah, but nobody likes to hear that their road trip to happiness will be a painful one,” she retorted.

“I didn’t say it would be painful, only that there’s a reason why you two were given that vision. I wasn’t saying I’ve got all the answers . . . only that if you keep the goal in mind, it will help you cope with challenge along the way.”

“You’re right of course,” said Jenna. “But even if it doesn’t happen, it was still the happiest moment of my life.”

“Mine too,” said Bonnie, as she reached up and squeezed Jenna’s shoulder. They clasped hands over the seatback and John realized the vision served another purpose, it brought Jenna and Bonnie even closer together. He wondered if Marissa shared it too and asked, “Have you talked to Marissa about it? Maybe she, or even Abby, remember the dream also.”

“Haven’t had a chance,” said Bonnie.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t want to tell Pete about it?” asked John.

“We talked about Marissa, but we want to give it time to settle in first,” said Jenna.

“Yeah. I’m not ready to tell Pete because he’s not ready to learn he’ll be a father again,” said Bonnie.

John and Jenna laughed at that comment, and laughed harder when Bonnie said, “No. I’m serious. I tried to convince him to let me have another child before the disaster. I’m sure glad I didn’t though. Can you imagine how hard this trip would be with a baby?” concluded Bonnie.

“Little things can sometimes change big things,” said John. “But I think you should tell him anyway. You can always leave out the part about the baby.”

“Maybe,” said Bonnie.

Not wanting to push Bonnie into saying something that could, even in his opinion, upset Pete, he decided to drop it. But it was hard to drop the idea of a shared dream. John had never heard of such a thing before, and it was really interesting. To think that Jenna and Bonnie not only
shared a dream, but interacted during it? Now that was something hard to ignore.

And though he tried to discourage them from elevating their hopes beyond proportion, he was very excited to learn that Abby would make it. The truth of their vision was undeniable. He felt it when Jenna talked about it. He knew it would come true despite his own cautious optimism. It would come to pass.

However, John also felt the burden of the journey, the inexorable and inevitable price such happiness could cost them. Everything came at a price, and John’s credit seemed to hang over him like a heavy weight, sure and ready to drop on his head like a ton of bricks. He would endure it alone if possible, but they were a company now, and the weight would fall on all of them. That’s what Jenna and Bonnie’s dream did for him, it let him know that payment would soon come due.

To imagine the joy of living in such an environment as theirs, like the farmhouse was for him, was very intoxicating, and maybe even worth it. But getting there would be the challenge. To reach their dreams, they would have to pass through the fiery crucible. And only after enduring the great temperatures of the furnace, would they emerge refined, a new and improved company, ready to face the challenges of their new lives.

No one was more concerned about that crucible than John. It made him think of the scripture in Luke, the one that said something like, “Where much is given, much is required.” He knew he had been given much; not in terms of physical blessings, though he had been blessed there too, but with spiritual gifts. Everything he had seen, and everything he had and could do, would come with a price. And he wondered if he could handle it.

CHAPTER 19

INFECTION

H
aving already added at least a full day to their trip, and figuring they’d add even more, Mark worried about their supplies as he limped along on his damaged ankle. Feeding the boys a meal was the right thing to do, but it meant one less meal for both of them. He would have to be alert for any opportunity to resupply, even if it was something he wouldn’t normally carry, like canned food.

The bark of a dog caught Mark’s attention and he stopped. Then there was another sound, but it was more of a yip than a bark, like that of a coyote talking to another coyote. The third yip was even closer, to the left of him, and less than a few feet into the bushes. Mark could hear them walking around him now, and he wondered what kind of new trouble he was in.

From behind him came the sound of a throaty growl. Mark scanned the area for safety, for a tree to climb, or at least set his back against, but there was nothing around. Not one single mature tree at hand.