Without (14 page)

I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but I didn’t care.
All I cared about was putting Lafayette as far behind me as possible. Nothing
good came from that town. Nothing good came from trying to help people who
couldn’t help themselves. That was enough of that shit.

Images of slaughtering Alex – defenseless and tied to a tree
– circled my mind like vultures waiting for the end of me. I tried putting
things in perspective, knowing he did the same thing to dozens of people if not
more. Like a kid, I kept telling myself that he started it. He deserved to die
like that. In spite of his arguments that it was this new world that forced him
to become a monster in order to survive, I felt no remorse.

I felt nothing.

My anger was being fed from so many different sources that I
couldn’t focus on any of them. I was pissed at everything. It’s what propelled
my legs, allowing me to reach my next destination long before the sun started
setting. I thought about continuing, but the pain in my ribs reminded me that I
needed to rest.

As I passed the sign and entered Cloudland Canyon State
Park, my thoughts drifted to Sam. She was as tough as any man I knew, but she
was still a woman. The first time I brought her here camping, I remember her
standing in a clearing that I told her was going to be our home for the next
two days. My declaration was followed by a confused stare and then pursed lips.
She was not a happy camper.

Her interpretation of camping was something along the lines
of a cabin in the woods with electricity and running water. Standing on bare
earth under a north Georgia sky, we discovered our definitions were on opposite
ends of the spectrum. I wanted to disconnect from the modern world and live as
simply as possible for the weekend. She was looking for an outlet to plug in
her hair dryer. (Yes, she packed a hair dryer.)

To her credit she allowed me to set up our campsite without
making a break for civilization. Knowing she was a novice, I made sure our
vehicle was an easy walk away. It allowed me to bring more gear than I would
carry if I were by myself.

After I assembled the massive tent and cots to raise our
sleeping bags off the ground, built a fire, and unfolded our chairs, she
exhaled with a smile. The bare earth took on a more pleasing and familiar
appearance for the city slicker. As she prepared our dinner over a portable
grill, I gathered more firewood and pulled the mini-bar next to our chairs.
After we ate our fill I took her hand, walking the short distance to the best
view in the park.

It was early fall, the air was cool, and the squadrons of
gnats and mosquitos spared us their company. When we stepped out of the woods
and onto a granite ledge overlooking the canyon, she squeezed my hand, pulling
herself closer to my side. (It may have had more to do with the dizzying height
than the romance of the moment.) Her eyes grew wide, taking in the scene that
she had no idea existed in Georgia. I remember her telling me it was the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen. I remember telling her that
she
was
the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Looking down at my blood-stained hands, reality pushed the
bittersweet memory of camping with Sam out of my head. I still had to cover
four miles to the row of cabins perched on the edge of the canyon. I hoped that
anyone occupying the rentals when the power went out would’ve left long ago for
the familiarity of their homes.

Ever since I entered the park, I hadn’t seen or heard a
soul. I took that as a good sign as I approached the first cabin. The better
sign was seeing only one vehicle parked at the last of the four rentals on the
dead-end driveway. I concealed myself in the woods across the road, waiting for
the sun to set.

From my vantage point I could observe all four of them. I
focused most of my attention on the cabin with the vehicle. As the sun dropped
behind the canyon, there were no indications that any of them were occupied.
When darkness started its descent, there were no warm glows from cooking fires,
lanterns, or candles. I decided to wait a little longer before moving closer. I
needed to let my eyes adjust to the low light of the rising moon. I also had
nothing but time.

When my lids grew heavy I made the decision to clear the
first building. I was working on thirty-six hours with no sleep, but the
adrenaline coursing through my veins momentarily cast aside the exhaustion.
After peering into each window, I jiggled the handle on the back door of the
first rental. It gave way, granting me a quiet entry.

I had a pocket full of ChemLights given to me by Trevor
before I went looking for his daughter in Lafayette, but they were too valuable
to use clearing an unsecured room. It put me at a disadvantage if someone was
hiding under a table in the shadows with a weapon, but there was still enough
twilight for me to see movement inside. In the first cabin there was none. It
was the same with the other two down the line.

As I jiggled the handle on the last cabin, it didn’t give. I
made another round outside the building, peeking through each window, trying to
verify there was nobody inside. When I was comfortable there wasn’t, I politely
knocked on the door and announced my presence. Stepping to the side to avoid
any buckshot coming through, I waited a few moments before using the pry bar. As
the lock popped I raised my shotgun. I called out again, receiving no response.
As I lifted my foot to walk inside, I was punched in the face by the stench of
decomposing flesh.

Knowing the condition of the occupant, I still had to clear
the cabin. Covering my nose and mouth, I decided the expense of using a ChemLight
was acceptable. Squeezing the plastic tube, I felt the snap of the capsule
within. Shaking it to thoroughly mix the chemicals, a bright orange glow
illuminated the room.

Looking down the short hallway, I found the source of the
odor. It wasn’t difficult to determine the color of the walls because of the
orange light; it was difficult because they were wallpapered with insects. It
was like a scene out of Amityville Horror.

He was lying on his back, wearing nothing but boxer shorts.
Judging from the level of decomposition, he had been dead for a few weeks.
Noticing a bulge under the skin on his chest, I assumed he was another of the
countless victims of 8:13. Like the battery in my watch, it was probably the
exact moment the battery in his pacemaker died.

After clearing the other rooms of the cabin, gathering
canned food and any other supplies I could use, I left him in peace. I decided
to take shelter for the evening in the rental furthest away from the smell of
nature taking its course. (It didn’t have the same lingering effect on me as
burning flesh, but it was damn close.)

I managed to collect several gallons of water from the
cabins – using most of it to wash the blood off my hands and out of my clothes
– and enjoyed a meal of ravioli and spaghetti with meatballs by the glow of the
ChemLight. When I finished I began the usual preparations to secure my living
space for the evening. There was a small bedroom in the back corner of the
cabin with a window high enough off the ground to make it difficult to climb,
but low enough for me to jump out if need be.

As tired as I was, I wasn’t ready to fall asleep. I pulled a
chair from inside the cabin out onto the deck. With my hands behind my head, I
leaned back, propping my feet up on a small table. I figured a few minutes of
stargazing might help clear my head before I hit the sack. As I looked up I
heard footsteps coming around the side of the cabin. I didn’t need to see who
it was. I already knew.

“Mind some company?” asked Earl.

“Not at all,” I said. “It’s been a while.”

“Yep, it has been,” replied Earl. “You been kinda busy
lately, though. I didn’t wanna distract you from your business.”

“My business?”

“Liberatin’ folks,” said Earl. “And, you know, thinning the
herd again.”

“The herd seems to be getting bigger, my friend.”

“It is. But you’ve been doin’ some good work out there. That
last one, what was his name?”

“Alex.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Alex. He got in your head a little bit,
didn’t he?”

“A little,” I said. “But not enough to save his life.”

“You feel bad about killin’ a man tied to a tree?”

“Should I?”

“Don’t be answering a question with a question now. Do you
feel bad about what you did?”

“I didn’t feel anything. Still don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You’re angry. Angry is a feeling.”

“I’m not angry. I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what?”

“Helping people who aren’t going to make it anyway,” I said.
“All I’ve been doing is prolonging the inevitable. None of us are going to make
it, Earl. Just like you didn’t.”

“So why don’t you just end it now? Put one of those pistols
to your head and join us.”

“I’m not the suicide type. My end is coming soon enough.”

“You know, Sam wanted to come with me,” said Earl. “But she
thinks you don’t wanna see her. She thinks you’re mad at her.”

“Why would I be mad at her?” I asked, taking down my feet
and leaning forward in my chair. “I mean, she almost got me killed again,
telling me to do the right thing and help Bud’s family. I don’t need to commit
suicide. I’ve got Sam in my head to do it for me.”

“Them are some harsh words,” said Earl, walking up onto the
deck. “I know you don’t mean ‘em.”

“Of course I do,” I replied. “She’s pointed me in the wrong
direction for every decision I’ve had to make. She’s confusing the hell out of
me, telling me to do everything I can to survive, but then drops me in the
middle of every shitstorm I come across. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but
there are a lot of them out there, and they’re getting worse every day.”

“No argument from me there, son,” said Earl. “It ain’t gonna
get no better anytime soon either. But like I told you before, it matters what
we do down here so we can be judged when the end comes.”

“This
is
the end, Earl.”

“No, it ain’t. This is the beginning. You’ve had to do some
horrible things, but they needed doin’. It doesn’t matter how Alex was killed.
It just matters that he was. You still can’t see that yet?”

“I see lots of things. What I don’t see is good people
winning the battles. Is that the new beginning you’re talking about? Good
people living in fear, simply waiting to be brutalized or murdered? Is that how
your God is going to let this play out?”

“Why don’t you ask Alex how that worked out for him? You
know, winning a battle. Oh, that’s right, he didn’t win. You did.”

“So that makes me the good guy?”

“I ain’t sayin’ you’re all good, but I am sayin’ you
are
good at making the bad guys lose.”

It was difficult to judge when I awoke, but I figured I had
slept for close to fourteen hours. The sun was hidden behind a blanket of dark
grey clouds. I chose to ignore the signs of heavy rain and attempt to trek the last
eleven miles to my parents’ house. All I wanted to do was walk through that
door, drop my pack, and start my life on the mountain.

After eating my breakfast from a can, I stood on the back
deck, taking in the serenity of the canyon. The moment of peace was broken when
the wind changed direction, bringing the smell of death from the last cabin on
the row. I didn’t need the reminder that things had changed, but it motivated
me to start the last leg of my journey as quickly as possible.

Stepping off the deck, I made my way down to the start of
the trail that would take me to the canyon floor. It was a three mile hike from
the cabin to the north exit of the park, but it was a brutal three miles.
Getting down to the creek and waterfalls would be easy. Hiking up and out the
other side with a full pack would take more than two hours.

Looking down the first set of stairs on the trail, (all 279
steps), my mind drifted back to my camping date with Sam. I remembered the
excitement on her face as she bolted down the stairs. I told her to be careful
because most of the path stayed damp and slippery, but she didn’t pay any
attention to my warning.

When she went down over a rise, my heart stopped. She
couldn’t have picked a more dangerous place to lose her footing. In front of
her was the second long set of stairs. Off the narrowest part of the trail to
her side, there was a rocky ledge that would send her all the way down to the
creek. I didn’t take a breath until I saw her lying on her back with her arms
extended, reaching for the sky. She was laughing.

I stood over her with a scowl. I remember her reaching for
me, asking why I didn’t tell her it was slippery. But what I remembered most were
those few seconds of devastating panic, thinking she was in trouble or hurt.
Seeing her embarrassment, watching her smile as she wiped the dirt off her
pants, I knew I never wanted to see that beautiful face in pain. I would do
whatever it took to protect her. I never failed so completely in my life.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was slick?” asked Sam, coming out
of my thoughts, appearing beside me on the trail. “I could’ve gone over, you
know.”

“I did tell you,” I said. “But you ignored me. You were like
a kid with ADD.”

“I know,” said Sam, taking my hand, continuing our walk.
“That was such a good day. The whole weekend was amazing. Well, except for the
peeing in the woods thing. That I could’ve done without. All I could think
about was a snake biting me on my ass. Would you have sucked the poison out?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Aw, you are my sweet boy,” said Sam, squeezing my hand, smiling.

“It’s good to see you,” I said, smiling back. “Good memories
here, huh?”

“The best,” said Sam. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“I was,” I said. “Not anymore. I was never able to stay mad
at you for anything. It’s even harder now seeing how I let you down.”

“Is that a joke?” asked Sam, cocking her head. “You’ve never
let me down. Not once.”

“I let them hurt you,” I said. “I let those cowards rape and
kill you.”

“Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you,” said Sam,
stopping me. “Look at me. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. It
just happened. I know that if you were there, you would’ve fought them to the
death. Either theirs or yours. I know you never would’ve given up fighting for
me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I don’t understand any of it, Sam. I just know that I miss
you so much it’s hard for me to take a breath. No, I don’t understand anything.
Not then and not now. None of this makes sense.”

“Do you know what does?”

“Please, tell me.”

“How hard you fight for them.”

“For who?”

“All of them,” said Sam. “Earl, Hope and her girls, Bud’s
family, and the others in Lafayette. All of them.”

“I’m not fighting for them, Sam. I’m fighting for you.”

“It doesn’t matter what your motivation is, baby. All that
matters is that you try to make things right again. You try to help those who
need it the most. And the ways things are now, help doesn’t come often.”

“Come on, Sam. Earl is dead, I abandoned Hope, and Lafayette
was overrun by murderers. How can you say I fought for them? I did the best I
could do, but it wasn’t enough. I failed you and I failed all of them. Good
guys aren’t going to win this fight.”

“On this earth now, there are clear lines between good and
evil,” said Sam. “Good isn’t always going to win, but what makes you different
is that you don’t stop trying. You don’t give up.

“You’re a good man and you have the heart of a lion. You’ve
earned the right to be happy and live the rest of your life that way. You made
sure it was the way I lived the rest of mine.”

“You’re starting to sound like Earl,” I said, forcing a
smile. “He thinks I can change the world. We all know I can’t.”

“No, you can’t,” said Sam. “Not by yourself.”

“Look around you, angel. There’s nobody else out here. It’s
just me and my ghosts.”

“No offense taken,” said Sam, resuming our walk. “Do you
know why I blew you a kiss goodbye when you were with Hope on the porch?”

“I have my theories,” I said.

“It’s because I am a ghost. If you would’ve stayed with her,
that might have been the place where you could’ve stopped being alone. She’s
real. She’s not a ghost.”

“She may have been real, but what she felt for me wasn’t,” I
said. “She would’ve clung on to anyone that darkened her door. As soon as her
brother-in-law showed up, I was old news.”

“You didn’t stick around long enough to know for sure,” said
Sam, taking my hand again. “You thought you were betraying me, so you left them
behind. It broke my heart seeing you walk away.”

“I buried her husband. Was I that crazy thinking it may have
been a bit soon to start a relationship with his widow?”

“Like you said, look around, angel. Normal rules don’t apply
to anything anymore. All Hope saw is that you have a good heart and a strong
will. There are few things more valuable these days. I don’t blame her for
wanting to hold on to you.”

“Are you asking me to go back?” I said. “Because if you are,
the answer is flat out no. I’m almost there, baby. I’ll be there by dusk. When
I climb out of this canyon and stand at the north end of this park, I’ll be
able to see Bootleg Mountain. I’ll be able to see home.”

“Whose home? Yours?”

“Um, yes, Sam. It’s kind of the reason why I’ve been
walking, dodging bullets, and trying to survive on this fucked up planet for
the past two weeks. I’m going home.”

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to be honest,
okay?”

“Sure.”

“If I were alive and decided to stay in Atlanta when all
this happened, would you be here? Would you be going home?”

This time, I stopped
her
. I pulled my hand away,
staring at her. I couldn’t see my own face, but I’m sure it didn’t look happy.
Sam was not only in my head, but she was fucking with it. I didn’t know why,
but I seemed to be letting her.

“No,” I said. “I’d be wherever you wanted me to be. It would
be a mistake to stay, and we’d be dead in a week, but no. I’d never leave you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“I know that, but why would you stay with me, knowing we’d
be dead in a week? Do you remember what you told me on the swing under the oak
at Hope’s house?”

“I do.”

“Then say it to me again.”

“I said you’re my home.”

“Yes, you did. And as much as I love hearing that, it’s not
possible anymore. I can never be your home, but someone else can.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” I said. “You made it
clear to me that you’re just a memory I’m holding on to with a white knuckle
grip. I get it. But that’s all I have right now. Does it matter what I use as
long as it gets me where I need to be? What’s the problem with my wanting to
stabilize my life by going somewhere familiar? Somewhere I might actually feel
safe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, sweetie,” said Sam. “Of
course, I want you to feel, and be, safe. My only fear is that you’re going to
be disappointed when you get there. I worry it’s not going to give you the
comfort or the answers you’re looking for.”

“Well, I guess that’s a lesson I need to learn,” I said.
“And I’ve come a long way to learn it. I’m tired, Sam. Just walk with me for a
bit longer. We don’t even have to talk.”

“Okay,” replied Sam. “You know that’s not going to be easy
for me, but okay.”

I took her hand and we made our way down to the waterfall.
After a brief pause to enjoy the scene, we started up the other side. Having
her with me allowed me to ignore the aching in my ribs and throbbing muscles in
my legs. (I went through most of my water keeping up a brisk pace.) The thought
of seeing Bootleg Mountain fueled my resolve to push forward.

The trail leveled off as we reached the outer rim of the
canyon. I felt invigorated, recognizing the last elevated section of the path
that would take me to the highest point in the park. From there I’d be able to
see my mountain. From there it was only a seven mile walk to my front door.

Not being satisfied as I reached the high point on the
trail, I let go of Sam’s hand to climb a boulder that would give me a better view.
As I stood tall, I saw Bootleg. It was the second most beautiful thing I had
ever seen in my life. When I reached down for the first, she was gone.

I was doing a better job of understanding why she was
leaving me without saying goodbye, but it still took away some of the sweetness
of the moment. It wasn’t enough of a loss to remove the smile off my face or
the sense of accomplishment from my inflating chest. With everything that had
happened to me since I left Atlanta, I couldn’t help but feel I beat the odds.

Four hours. That’s all I had left on this journey.

From that elevation I could see pillars of thick, black
smoke rising from several points in the distance. I could also see the dark
bands of rain descending from the gray roof above me, heading my way. Both were
reminders that Mother Nature and man were out there working on their next
sinister plans.

Leaving the park trail, stepping onto the isolated road that
would lead me to Bootleg, the rain hit me. It cooled my face and the air around
me, allowing me to press on with a determined stride. Three hours later, I
found myself standing at the mailbox with my parents’ name burned into the
wooden post.

Sam was wrong. I
was
home.