The others were always intrigued by stories of Vista Valley and never considered or even questioned the trudge of 10000 paces. All remained alone in their thoughts while camp was made. Then the conversation remained on one subject.
“How long did it take?” someone asked. “A day? Two?”
“I have no idea. There is no sense of time. There’s almost no sound. The only thing you can see is the dark, gray fog. I don’t remember eating. I don’t remember sleeping.”
“Were there any people inside? Any animals?”
“Nothing but the feeling of dread.”
“Are you sure you walked in a straight line?” Buck asked. “You could have been walking in circles.”
“That is true.”
The plan to eliminate that problem seemed simple. Buck brought along not just one long rope but many. They would be tied together with one end attached to a tree. Josiah would then take the other end and carry it with him through the fog. Upon entering the Valley he would then tie it to another tree. The others could then use the rope as a guide.
“Brilliant idea, Buck,” Josiah said.
Additionally, Josiah would be responsible for toting both his supplies and those of his wife. Maria could then only worry about the baby. Knowing what lay ahead Josiah retired for the night.
Buck got up first the next morning and took care of the rope, paying special attention to the knots and making sure no excess was wasted. Finally he attached it to the tree nearest the fog.
Josiah kissed his wife, told her how much he loved her, grabbed the supplies and end of the rope, and entered the fog. It was everything he remembered. To avoid the feeling of dread he concentrated on the people back home, on how he was returning with a cure for the glow, and on his new family.
The end of the fog was near, he sensed. Then he felt his left foot exit. But Josiah had reached the end of the rope. His response was one he learned when Maria was going through labor.
“Fuck me.”
Five hundred feet of rope was not quite enough.
•
Buck was asleep on the Other Side with his neck on the rope when it grew taut and woke him. Two full days had now passed since Josiah left.
“The rope! The rope!” Buck yelled. “Josiah made it to the Valley.”
Maria and April jumped out of their sleeping bags. JJ again pointed at the fog. Sam the dog wagged her tail. They would break camp, pack and discover for themselves the confines of the fog.
It was quickly decided that April would go first followed by Maria and her baby. Sam the dog would tail her mistress leaving Buck to bring up the rear and help should someone falter. Each experienced everything Josiah had described and more. Disconcerting of all was that there was no communication among each other. At least they had the sense of touch, could follow the rope and tried to stay within an arm length of each other. Maria kept her baby pressed to her bosom. Thus she could feel his heartbeat. Or maybe it was her own, she worried. Then JJ developed the hiccups which greatly pleased her.
On the other end Josiah, upon getting so close and yet so far from the Valley, put to use some Other Side knowledge learned from Buck and tied his duffle bag to the end of the rope. This allowed him to escape the fog though he still had to hold on to the strap at the bottom. And that he did with all his might.
Nightfall came as did the howls but this time they were of a welcoming nature.
Perhaps the Valley was amicable to those entering while discouraging those who wished to leave.
The stars began to fade as the sun came out. Soon it was one full day since the rope was pulled taut and Josiah neared exhaustion. He wondered how long he would need to endure. Then April emerged, followed by Maria and the baby, Sam the dog and Buck, dragging the supplies behind him.
Sam the dog immediately licked her master’s face. Maria didn’t object to the slobber as she hugged and kissed her husband. Then she quickly checked her baby, whose eyes were wide as he pointed to the fog. Off to one side Buck and April embraced for the first time.
“How long did it take us?” someone asked.
“About a day,” Josiah replied. “How long did it take me?”
“Almost two,” said Buck. “You must have gotten turned around.”
Tired beyond reason, Josiah pulled on the duffle bag to help himself up. The rope suddenly lost its grip and Josiah fell back to the ground with the bag atop him. A marker was placed where they could find the rope for their return. All sensed that that would not occur.
Camp was made and, though still daylight, all covered up and were lulled by the sounds of a welcoming nature.
The next day brought an announcement from Josiah.
“One thing I failed to mention about Vista Valley is that, at least in public, all adults
go by their last name. Henceforth refer to me as Mr. Joplin, and Maria as Mrs. Joplin.
Buck, you’ll go by Mr. Wolf, and April… April, just what is your last name?”
“Mayo.”
“Mayo? But there’s already a Miss Mayo in the Valley and you two are not kin. That’s unprecedented, but I guess it’s OK.”
Perhaps she won’t remain Miss Mayo for long, Mr. Wolf thought as they held hands.
“But what about Sam? Will she have to change her name to Max?” Mrs. Joplin asked.
“Sam is the only name she’s known. The citizens will just have to get used to it.”
•
“Mr. Joplin. Mr. Joplin. You’re back,” yelled Bobby Short as he ran toward the group.
“Say, you’ve done some growing. How old are you now?”
“Eight. It’s been almost two years. We thought you wouldn’t return. All of the citizens are gone now. Grandma Moran was tending to us but she finally caught the glow too. That was three days ago. The older ones have been making us fig sandwiches and fettuccine salad. And, of course, Grandma Moran left behind plenty of applesauce cookies. Gosh, I sure am tired of them.”
“Here. Try this.”
“And then…and then…Say, this is good. What is it?”
“It’s a newton. Now run back and get everyone to assemble in the Visitors Center. We’ll meet at the first twilight.”
•
John, Shelley, Chet, Jenny, Stanley, Barbara and forty eight others, fifty four in all,
were seventeen. As they were the oldest, it was true that the glow only hit those eighteen and above. The first shots were given to them. A group of 120 were sixteen years of age. They were next. The remainder of the hydrosulin was set aside for emergencies.
Ten days passed, enough time for the hydrosulin to take effect, and Mr. Joplin called a meeting of the Valley Council, something that had not occurred in two years. As the only member, Mr. Joplin would preside.
“Normally we would open this meeting with the reading of the minutes of the previous but since they are not to be found we will pertermit the obligation. Mention has been made that we add Mrs. Joplin, Mr. Wolf and Miss Mayo to the council and since there are never objections so let it be. As Vista Valley is in dire need, I am offering full citizenship to all seventeen years of age. Those meeting the criterion and with the desire please rise.”
All fifty four did so.
“It is done. You now have the rights and responsibilities thereof. Henceforth you will be referred to by your family name preceded by Mr. or Miss. And you are free to wed at any time.”
Within six months a large marriage ceremony of seventeen couples came to be. As was tradition, the brides all wore dresses in various shades of coral which signified age and wisdom. Mr. Joplin officiated.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Mr. Wolf?”
“That it is, Miss Mayo.”
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Buck, I’m pregnant.”
By the end of the evening eighteen couples wed.
•
It was never determined whether the hydrosulin was the cure or the glow simply died off when Grandma Moran, the last adult at the time, caught it. Mrs. Wolf, with no more need for her nursing skills, reopened schools and began a teaching program. She offered her husband a position and for the first time in his life he had a job. His responsibilities, at which he excelled, included showing the students when and how to harvest the vegetables and soon the market was running again. Their daughter May, who was born in October five years before, was the apple of her mother’s eye.
Mrs. Joplin opened a restaurant which became a big success. Everyone wondered why no one had thought of it before. Mr. Joplin opened a golf course which everyone thought was crazy. Most walked everywhere anyway. Why would they do that while hitting a little ball and trying to get it in a hole? He was disappointed his portable television only showed snow and regretted the he’d not brought any cable with him. And if only he had brought along the recipe for newtons, a sandwich he sorely missed. Since returning to Vista Valley he felt he had accomplished little and sometimes thought his life a failure. But his time was filled by waiting tables at the restaurant and officiating at weddings. And he had become adept at playing a game called solitaire using the deck of cards Mr. Wolf brought to the valley.
Sam the dog was pregnant with her second litter. JJ was now six years old, in school
and quite the scholar. He out shone others in the class in the alphabet, numbers and
tumbling. At night his mother told him tales of the Other Side, which he absorbed like a sponge. And he now had a little brother who was four years of age. Since Mrs. Joplin wanted a son named Max, and Mr. Joplin insisted on the initials J-J, they compromised. The boy’s name was Jax.
And in Vista Valley, teens became citizens, children became teens, babies were born, generations returned, businesses thrived, and dogs accepted without protest names such as Fido, Spot and Ralph.
•
The fog awoke from its lengthy hibernation to an irritant, an annoyance, a nettling. What was it that disturbed the dormancy? It was some type of cordage and it didn’t belong, so it was flung back from whence it came. After such a long sleep the fog was ravenous. It would consume the next unwanted that came its way and hoped the repast would be much more pleasant that the last. That meal gave the fog a burning sensation inside and had to be regurgitated into the valley below.
©2009 I've Got A Shotgun And Know How To Use It
7745 words
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Short Story — "The Glow" Part II
The couple left with more questions than answers.
•
“And what are the symptoms?” the nurse asked.
“He has no symptoms. He simply wants to ask the doctor about some odd disease that’s affecting his home town.”
“Does he have insurance? If so, the doctor can see him in two months. Or if he’s paying cash as you did the doctor can see him tomorrow at three.”
Josiah’s appointment was the next day at three. He offered every detail he could
about the glow including the indiscrimination of the attacks excepting children and
animals and that there was no warning, then described the chilling and sudden end. The doctor’s brow furrowed in bafflement.
“Where did you say you are from?” the doctor finally asked, receiving a reply. “I’ve not heard of it. Have you consulted any doctors there?”
“We don’t really have any doctors there. No one has ever gotten sick. Until now.”
“Let me do some research. Come back in two months.”
•
“What’s that on your finger?” Josiah questioned.
“An engagement ring.”
“I didn’t know we were engaged.”
“We are now.”
“Did I ask?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No. We’re getting married Saturday night at seven.”
•
The two, now blissfully married, lived with Maria’s mother who was none too happy about having an extra person in her house and another on the way. But she took it in stride knowing Maria had spent the little money she’d saved for furniture on a ring that was of more importance.
•
The couple met with the professor as scheduled. His look was that of discovery.
“I’ve found very few facts about the valley, he said, “but numerous tales, many of them similar. No dates are referenced, of course, but they all tell of explorers’ struggles with some type of wall, perhaps this wall of fog you mentioned, because mention is made of going through it, not over. They find a place where evolution had strayed, where many of the plants and animals differed. But there were no people to conquer and no treasures significant enough to bring back. The wall gave them no reason to return to the valley. This is all little-told folk lore, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true.
“Later, when history began to be recorded, a tyrant came to rule this area. Onerous laws were passed. People were required to make choices, all of them bad. The tyrant found joy in guessing which of the choices people would make. But a small group refused to make any of these choices, which displeased him, so he threw them in jail. Upon hearing of this strange valley he banished them there. Then he had all written references to the event erased. Oral history cannot be outlawed, but time took its toll.
“Apparently these people were of a sort that their refusal to obey the tyrant was considered extraordinary. They were normally quite pleasant and agreeable. And they
were a hardy bunch that never got sick. What I’ve found has piqued my interest. I’ll continue to look into it and get in touch when I’ve found more.”
On their slow walk home they had a talk.
“You know, Maria, I made a promise when I left Vista Valley to try to find some way to save them from the glow. I don’t know if the doctor will be much help or not, but either way I must return to let my people know. But here I am, in love, married, and with a child on the way. I’m in a pit of a bickle.”
“The expression is ‘bit of a pickle,’” she laughed. “And no you’re not. Remember, I told you long ago that I wanted to see far-off places and have adventures. Do you think that I’d let you go without me? We’re a team, you and me. I’m not afraid of this fog, this trudge of 10000 paces as you call it. And I want to see this wondrous place, Vista Valley. Besides, my mom wants us out of the house.
“I have an appointment with the doctor in a few weeks. You can go with me. Meanwhile, winter’s coming. There’s a chill in the air. You need new clothes. We’ll go shopping.
It didn’t take long for Josiah to discover that he didn’t like this chore called shopping though Maria seemed to enjoy it immensely. In Vista Valley clothes came in a one-size-fits-all category except for children and were made at home or brought there by the threadsmith. He also found out that when Maria said that shopping “wouldn’t take long”
she really meant it would last their entire afternoon off from work. He would much
rather be home watching a game called golf on the television.
But as the air grew colder he appreciated the task they had performed.
“Maria, what in the fig newton is this white stuff falling from the sky?”
“Snow? Oh, that’s right. You’ve not seen it before have you? It’s called snow.”
He watched, almost hypnotized, as it fell for three straight days. People stayed home from work. Everything was covered in white everywhere he looked yet he could still watch on television the game called golf being played on green lawns. He’d resolved never to ask about the mysteries of that box but this time the temptation was too much.
“Why is there no snow on television?”
“Oh, there used to be snow on television but then we got cable. Come on. Let’s build a snowman.”
Josiah enjoyed this chore much more than shopping. He wondered if perhaps he could get a job building them until he one day realized the snowmen would also catch the glow and die although it took much longer for them to do so. Perhaps cable had something to do with it.
•
“Mrs. Joplin, you’re fine,” the doctor said. “The baby’s fine. It looks like you two are going to have a little boy.”
Thoughts raced through Josiah’s mind. A son. Another generation. Someone to carry on the family name. Someone to watch golf with. What would he be named? Joe perhaps. Or maybe John. It would be nice to carry on the double-J tradition. Every male
in the Joplin family had a first name that began with a J so as to have the J-J initials.
That’s it. He would name his son JJ. He would…
“Mr. Joplin? Mr. Joplin, are you OK?” the doctor asked.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry. My mind was doing a double bogey.”
Then he looked at Maria whose smile belonged to him alone.
“Josiah, don’t you have a question for the doctor?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. Yes I do. Is it safe for her to travel?”
“No Josiah. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Ask the doctor about the glow.”
“Yes doctor. Have you found out anything about what I described? Anything about the problem that is plaguing my people?”
“No. I’m very sorry. I’ve heard of nothing like it. All of my books and journals have been studied, and I’ve inquired at the university and the hospital. I really need to see someone who has caught it.”
“But that’s impossible. Once they get it they’re gone within seconds. You’re basically telling me that there’s no cure, no answer, no hope?”
“Don’t give up hope quite yet,” the doctor told Josiah, whose face again lit up. “Next week I’ll see the smartest man I know and we’ll discuss it. I have a date with him to play golf.”
“Golf? You play golf too? I love that game.”
“It’s a great game. What’s your handicap?”
“I have no handicap. I’m fine.”
“Oh, so you’re a scratch golfer are you?”
“No, I don’t itch. I just sit on the sofa and watch it on television.”
•
“You know, Josiah, there are many other doctors out there for you to talk with.
There’s lots of time before Max is born and we go to Vista Valley.”
“Max?”
“Yes, I thought we’d name our baby Max. I always liked the sound of it.”
“Max is a dog’s name.”
“Are you kidding? Who would name their dog Max?”
“You’ll find out. We’ll name our baby JJ.”
“If you insist. I’ll start making appointments for you.”
•
Over the next few months Josiah met with several doctors and came to the conclusion that there was no cure for the glow. He also determined that all doctors played golf.
“Why don’t you join us Wednesday afternoon, Josiah?” Dr. Johnson asked. “We need a fourth.”
“I’d love to but I don’t have a work card.”
“You don’t need a work card. You only need a score card. You don’t expect to get paid do you?”
“They do on television.”
“We won’t be on television. I’ll pick you up at one.”
•
“Maria. Maria. Guess what I’ll be doing Wednesday afternoon. Hey, what’s this? Where did this dog come from?”
“From the animal shelter. I picked her up this morning. She’s a beautiful black Lab isn’t she? Her name is Sam.”
“Sam? Sam? What kind of name is Sam for a dog?”
“It’s short for Samantha. Did you think I was going to name her Max, as in Maxine? So what’s the headline about Wednesday afternoon?”
“I’m going to play golf with Dr. Johnson?”
“Golf? But you have no clubs. I guess you can borrow my mother’s. She never uses them. They’re in the pink bag at the back of the closet.”
•
The game of golf as played at the Hidden River Country Club was somewhat different than that played on television. There were no crowds to watch the players, no men holding signs that read QUIET PLEASE as a putt was addressed and no caddies to carry the clubs. In fact, miniature cars provided transportation in lieu of walking and Josiah was thrilled when he was allowed to drive though he had no license. Of particular curiosity was a rule he had not heard of before, something called a mulligan which allowed a do-over when a poor shot was made. Mulligan became Josiah’s nickname.
Arrangements were made at the restaurant for Wednesday afternoons off and the visitor from Vista Valley became a regular at Hidden River as long as the weather cooperated. One Wednesday afternoon it rained. And the floor of Mother Nuñez’s house got wet.
•
“Josiah, it’s time. My water just broke. We need to go to the hospital.”
A neighbor, Buck Wolf, was available and provided transportation. He was of similar age and possessed great potential but little else but free time and a rust bucket for a four door. Employment seemed to avoid him though the application process did not. That Wednesday afternoon he opted to stay to savor the coffee dregs in the waiting room.
The doctor said the delivery went without incident. Josiah learned a whole new vocabulary from his wife. Maria said the worst four hours of her life had just provided the best moment in her life. And JJ, after having his belly button clamped, suction hoses stuck into his nose and mouth, needles stuck into him and an intrusion upon his normally diapered area, discovered the joys of twelve straight hours of sleep.
April, who was born in September, became JJ’s primary nurse. She was self- diagnosed with a case of incurable burnout from a recent divorce and severe under appreciation at work. But the Joplin’s recognized the value of everything she did. And with Buck spending as much time there as the hospital allowed, the four adults became fast friends.
This closeness grew as the baby and mother were allowed to go home and expanded as JJ awoke to the wonders of the world around him. Josiah’s guarded approach to telling his background ebbed and little by little he told of his life in Vista Valley and his trudge of 10000 paces. Then one night he told of the glow.
“Oh honey,” April said, “that can be cured with hydrosulin. I’d like to see this Vista Valley. I won’t be missed around here. Let’s go there before it’s too late.”
“There’s no future here for me either,” Buck added. “Count me in. I’ll go too.”
April would arrange for shots the next day and advised that JJ was already old
for travel. But ten days should be allowed for the medicine to produce its full effect.
A cure. A cure for the glow. Josiah was ecstatic. Finally he could return home, mission accomplished. Sam the dog wagged her tail. JJ slept.
Plans were diagrammed on a white board. First up: an estimate of the adult population in Vista Valley to determine the amount of hydrosulin needed. Buck asked Josiah for the total population figure, the approximate number of children per couple, life expectancy, the number of schools and how many students per school, all pertinent in order for him to calculate properly.
“Before you get your abacus out, Einstein,” April interrupted, “I only have access to enough to treat one thousand.”
“That answered that question,” Buck announced.
That won’t be enough, Josiah worried.
April was in charge of procuring the medical supplies they would need. Buck’s list included camping equipment, food for the trip, his old Boy Scout manual, a deck of cards and copies of his résumé. Maria thought first of her baby, assembling such things as a stroller, diapers, formula, baby food, more diapers, and just in case, a charge card for shopping. Josiah filled a duffle bag with golf equipment and accessories, the menu from the restaurant, a portable television and plenty of newtons. Sam the dog, sensing something was up, began collecting bones in her corner of the bedroom. JJ had a pacifier in his mouth.
Mother Nuñez, who had never been told about Vista Valley, simply accepted that the group was planning a trip to another part of the world.
“Send postcards will you?”
“We will mama.”
The restaurant was told that the couple needed to take an extended leave in order to visit Josiah’s home country. They were fired. April gave notice to the hospital that she was going back to school.
“Whatever,” her supervisor said.
Buck reasoned no one would miss him and stayed silent. Sam the dog quit barking at the mailman and began wagging her tail upon his arrival. JJ began taking delight in watching golf on television.
The appointed day for departure arrived. Buck’s rust bucket four door and its well-tamped assemblage headed for the missing page forty-nine of the old atlas. Even after bidding farewell to the end of the road the old car performed surprisingly well in its contest against the untended grass and undulating upscape of the hills until finally defeated in the match against the incline. Evacuation proceeded and the car was abandoned with its keys, as always, left in the ignition. Buck knew the rust bucket four door would still be there when he returned. If he returned.
The party climbed the hill until they reached a level area just before a steep rise. There they made camp for the night and heavier clothing was donned. Maria and April saw to the baby. Josiah and Buck made plans for the next day. Sam the dog simply gazed at Hardwicke, far, far away.
With all of their supplies the sheer rock face presented a challenge. But once a Boy
Scout, always a Boy Scout, and Buck was prepared. Among his supplies was a pulley
and long, thick rope. He would scale the steepness and secure the pulley above. Then Josiah would pull everything up. With the details firmed up and the baby asleep, the crew turned in.
The next morning’s project went as designed. The supplies were hoisted first, followed by Sam the dog, April, the Maria with JJ firmly belted to her back. By then Josiah was near spent so he tied the rope around his waist and Buck helped him up.
JJ was irritable and Maria wanted to call it a day but the mountain nemesis of the Other Side had been conquered and only Josiah knew what lay ahead.
“Over that hill and beyond that small grove of trees. We must forge on.”
And so forge on they did.
As typical climbers they kept their eyes to the ground, watching their footing while negotiating the hill. Then, upon exiting the small grove of trees one by one, each stood in awe. JJ pointed.
“What’s that?” Maria, April and Buck said in unison.
“The fog,” Josiah replied. “We’ll camp here tonight.”
•
“And what are the symptoms?” the nurse asked.
“He has no symptoms. He simply wants to ask the doctor about some odd disease that’s affecting his home town.”
“Does he have insurance? If so, the doctor can see him in two months. Or if he’s paying cash as you did the doctor can see him tomorrow at three.”
Josiah’s appointment was the next day at three. He offered every detail he could
about the glow including the indiscrimination of the attacks excepting children and
animals and that there was no warning, then described the chilling and sudden end. The doctor’s brow furrowed in bafflement.
“Where did you say you are from?” the doctor finally asked, receiving a reply. “I’ve not heard of it. Have you consulted any doctors there?”
“We don’t really have any doctors there. No one has ever gotten sick. Until now.”
“Let me do some research. Come back in two months.”
•
“What’s that on your finger?” Josiah questioned.
“An engagement ring.”
“I didn’t know we were engaged.”
“We are now.”
“Did I ask?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No. We’re getting married Saturday night at seven.”
•
The two, now blissfully married, lived with Maria’s mother who was none too happy about having an extra person in her house and another on the way. But she took it in stride knowing Maria had spent the little money she’d saved for furniture on a ring that was of more importance.
•
The couple met with the professor as scheduled. His look was that of discovery.
“I’ve found very few facts about the valley, he said, “but numerous tales, many of them similar. No dates are referenced, of course, but they all tell of explorers’ struggles with some type of wall, perhaps this wall of fog you mentioned, because mention is made of going through it, not over. They find a place where evolution had strayed, where many of the plants and animals differed. But there were no people to conquer and no treasures significant enough to bring back. The wall gave them no reason to return to the valley. This is all little-told folk lore, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true.
“Later, when history began to be recorded, a tyrant came to rule this area. Onerous laws were passed. People were required to make choices, all of them bad. The tyrant found joy in guessing which of the choices people would make. But a small group refused to make any of these choices, which displeased him, so he threw them in jail. Upon hearing of this strange valley he banished them there. Then he had all written references to the event erased. Oral history cannot be outlawed, but time took its toll.
“Apparently these people were of a sort that their refusal to obey the tyrant was considered extraordinary. They were normally quite pleasant and agreeable. And they
were a hardy bunch that never got sick. What I’ve found has piqued my interest. I’ll continue to look into it and get in touch when I’ve found more.”
On their slow walk home they had a talk.
“You know, Maria, I made a promise when I left Vista Valley to try to find some way to save them from the glow. I don’t know if the doctor will be much help or not, but either way I must return to let my people know. But here I am, in love, married, and with a child on the way. I’m in a pit of a bickle.”
“The expression is ‘bit of a pickle,’” she laughed. “And no you’re not. Remember, I told you long ago that I wanted to see far-off places and have adventures. Do you think that I’d let you go without me? We’re a team, you and me. I’m not afraid of this fog, this trudge of 10000 paces as you call it. And I want to see this wondrous place, Vista Valley. Besides, my mom wants us out of the house.
“I have an appointment with the doctor in a few weeks. You can go with me. Meanwhile, winter’s coming. There’s a chill in the air. You need new clothes. We’ll go shopping.
It didn’t take long for Josiah to discover that he didn’t like this chore called shopping though Maria seemed to enjoy it immensely. In Vista Valley clothes came in a one-size-fits-all category except for children and were made at home or brought there by the threadsmith. He also found out that when Maria said that shopping “wouldn’t take long”
she really meant it would last their entire afternoon off from work. He would much
rather be home watching a game called golf on the television.
But as the air grew colder he appreciated the task they had performed.
“Maria, what in the fig newton is this white stuff falling from the sky?”
“Snow? Oh, that’s right. You’ve not seen it before have you? It’s called snow.”
He watched, almost hypnotized, as it fell for three straight days. People stayed home from work. Everything was covered in white everywhere he looked yet he could still watch on television the game called golf being played on green lawns. He’d resolved never to ask about the mysteries of that box but this time the temptation was too much.
“Why is there no snow on television?”
“Oh, there used to be snow on television but then we got cable. Come on. Let’s build a snowman.”
Josiah enjoyed this chore much more than shopping. He wondered if perhaps he could get a job building them until he one day realized the snowmen would also catch the glow and die although it took much longer for them to do so. Perhaps cable had something to do with it.
•
“Mrs. Joplin, you’re fine,” the doctor said. “The baby’s fine. It looks like you two are going to have a little boy.”
Thoughts raced through Josiah’s mind. A son. Another generation. Someone to carry on the family name. Someone to watch golf with. What would he be named? Joe perhaps. Or maybe John. It would be nice to carry on the double-J tradition. Every male
in the Joplin family had a first name that began with a J so as to have the J-J initials.
That’s it. He would name his son JJ. He would…
“Mr. Joplin? Mr. Joplin, are you OK?” the doctor asked.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry. My mind was doing a double bogey.”
Then he looked at Maria whose smile belonged to him alone.
“Josiah, don’t you have a question for the doctor?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. Yes I do. Is it safe for her to travel?”
“No Josiah. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Ask the doctor about the glow.”
“Yes doctor. Have you found out anything about what I described? Anything about the problem that is plaguing my people?”
“No. I’m very sorry. I’ve heard of nothing like it. All of my books and journals have been studied, and I’ve inquired at the university and the hospital. I really need to see someone who has caught it.”
“But that’s impossible. Once they get it they’re gone within seconds. You’re basically telling me that there’s no cure, no answer, no hope?”
“Don’t give up hope quite yet,” the doctor told Josiah, whose face again lit up. “Next week I’ll see the smartest man I know and we’ll discuss it. I have a date with him to play golf.”
“Golf? You play golf too? I love that game.”
“It’s a great game. What’s your handicap?”
“I have no handicap. I’m fine.”
“Oh, so you’re a scratch golfer are you?”
“No, I don’t itch. I just sit on the sofa and watch it on television.”
•
“You know, Josiah, there are many other doctors out there for you to talk with.
There’s lots of time before Max is born and we go to Vista Valley.”
“Max?”
“Yes, I thought we’d name our baby Max. I always liked the sound of it.”
“Max is a dog’s name.”
“Are you kidding? Who would name their dog Max?”
“You’ll find out. We’ll name our baby JJ.”
“If you insist. I’ll start making appointments for you.”
•
Over the next few months Josiah met with several doctors and came to the conclusion that there was no cure for the glow. He also determined that all doctors played golf.
“Why don’t you join us Wednesday afternoon, Josiah?” Dr. Johnson asked. “We need a fourth.”
“I’d love to but I don’t have a work card.”
“You don’t need a work card. You only need a score card. You don’t expect to get paid do you?”
“They do on television.”
“We won’t be on television. I’ll pick you up at one.”
•
“Maria. Maria. Guess what I’ll be doing Wednesday afternoon. Hey, what’s this? Where did this dog come from?”
“From the animal shelter. I picked her up this morning. She’s a beautiful black Lab isn’t she? Her name is Sam.”
“Sam? Sam? What kind of name is Sam for a dog?”
“It’s short for Samantha. Did you think I was going to name her Max, as in Maxine? So what’s the headline about Wednesday afternoon?”
“I’m going to play golf with Dr. Johnson?”
“Golf? But you have no clubs. I guess you can borrow my mother’s. She never uses them. They’re in the pink bag at the back of the closet.”
•
The game of golf as played at the Hidden River Country Club was somewhat different than that played on television. There were no crowds to watch the players, no men holding signs that read QUIET PLEASE as a putt was addressed and no caddies to carry the clubs. In fact, miniature cars provided transportation in lieu of walking and Josiah was thrilled when he was allowed to drive though he had no license. Of particular curiosity was a rule he had not heard of before, something called a mulligan which allowed a do-over when a poor shot was made. Mulligan became Josiah’s nickname.
Arrangements were made at the restaurant for Wednesday afternoons off and the visitor from Vista Valley became a regular at Hidden River as long as the weather cooperated. One Wednesday afternoon it rained. And the floor of Mother Nuñez’s house got wet.
•
“Josiah, it’s time. My water just broke. We need to go to the hospital.”
A neighbor, Buck Wolf, was available and provided transportation. He was of similar age and possessed great potential but little else but free time and a rust bucket for a four door. Employment seemed to avoid him though the application process did not. That Wednesday afternoon he opted to stay to savor the coffee dregs in the waiting room.
The doctor said the delivery went without incident. Josiah learned a whole new vocabulary from his wife. Maria said the worst four hours of her life had just provided the best moment in her life. And JJ, after having his belly button clamped, suction hoses stuck into his nose and mouth, needles stuck into him and an intrusion upon his normally diapered area, discovered the joys of twelve straight hours of sleep.
April, who was born in September, became JJ’s primary nurse. She was self- diagnosed with a case of incurable burnout from a recent divorce and severe under appreciation at work. But the Joplin’s recognized the value of everything she did. And with Buck spending as much time there as the hospital allowed, the four adults became fast friends.
This closeness grew as the baby and mother were allowed to go home and expanded as JJ awoke to the wonders of the world around him. Josiah’s guarded approach to telling his background ebbed and little by little he told of his life in Vista Valley and his trudge of 10000 paces. Then one night he told of the glow.
“Oh honey,” April said, “that can be cured with hydrosulin. I’d like to see this Vista Valley. I won’t be missed around here. Let’s go there before it’s too late.”
“There’s no future here for me either,” Buck added. “Count me in. I’ll go too.”
April would arrange for shots the next day and advised that JJ was already old
for travel. But ten days should be allowed for the medicine to produce its full effect.
A cure. A cure for the glow. Josiah was ecstatic. Finally he could return home, mission accomplished. Sam the dog wagged her tail. JJ slept.
Plans were diagrammed on a white board. First up: an estimate of the adult population in Vista Valley to determine the amount of hydrosulin needed. Buck asked Josiah for the total population figure, the approximate number of children per couple, life expectancy, the number of schools and how many students per school, all pertinent in order for him to calculate properly.
“Before you get your abacus out, Einstein,” April interrupted, “I only have access to enough to treat one thousand.”
“That answered that question,” Buck announced.
That won’t be enough, Josiah worried.
April was in charge of procuring the medical supplies they would need. Buck’s list included camping equipment, food for the trip, his old Boy Scout manual, a deck of cards and copies of his résumé. Maria thought first of her baby, assembling such things as a stroller, diapers, formula, baby food, more diapers, and just in case, a charge card for shopping. Josiah filled a duffle bag with golf equipment and accessories, the menu from the restaurant, a portable television and plenty of newtons. Sam the dog, sensing something was up, began collecting bones in her corner of the bedroom. JJ had a pacifier in his mouth.
Mother Nuñez, who had never been told about Vista Valley, simply accepted that the group was planning a trip to another part of the world.
“Send postcards will you?”
“We will mama.”
The restaurant was told that the couple needed to take an extended leave in order to visit Josiah’s home country. They were fired. April gave notice to the hospital that she was going back to school.
“Whatever,” her supervisor said.
Buck reasoned no one would miss him and stayed silent. Sam the dog quit barking at the mailman and began wagging her tail upon his arrival. JJ began taking delight in watching golf on television.
The appointed day for departure arrived. Buck’s rust bucket four door and its well-tamped assemblage headed for the missing page forty-nine of the old atlas. Even after bidding farewell to the end of the road the old car performed surprisingly well in its contest against the untended grass and undulating upscape of the hills until finally defeated in the match against the incline. Evacuation proceeded and the car was abandoned with its keys, as always, left in the ignition. Buck knew the rust bucket four door would still be there when he returned. If he returned.
The party climbed the hill until they reached a level area just before a steep rise. There they made camp for the night and heavier clothing was donned. Maria and April saw to the baby. Josiah and Buck made plans for the next day. Sam the dog simply gazed at Hardwicke, far, far away.
With all of their supplies the sheer rock face presented a challenge. But once a Boy
Scout, always a Boy Scout, and Buck was prepared. Among his supplies was a pulley
and long, thick rope. He would scale the steepness and secure the pulley above. Then Josiah would pull everything up. With the details firmed up and the baby asleep, the crew turned in.
The next morning’s project went as designed. The supplies were hoisted first, followed by Sam the dog, April, the Maria with JJ firmly belted to her back. By then Josiah was near spent so he tied the rope around his waist and Buck helped him up.
JJ was irritable and Maria wanted to call it a day but the mountain nemesis of the Other Side had been conquered and only Josiah knew what lay ahead.
“Over that hill and beyond that small grove of trees. We must forge on.”
And so forge on they did.
As typical climbers they kept their eyes to the ground, watching their footing while negotiating the hill. Then, upon exiting the small grove of trees one by one, each stood in awe. JJ pointed.
“What’s that?” Maria, April and Buck said in unison.
“The fog,” Josiah replied. “We’ll camp here tonight.”
Short Story — "The Glow" Part I
The Glow
Ken Grigg
The remnant of the long-employed whisk labored little in its current duty of herding the cinders into the shovel.
“Morning Kermit."
“Morning Mrs. Bonner.”
“What’s that you’re sweeping up?”
“Oh, Mrs. Prescott I suppose. She just left the store with some apples. Looks like them over there.”
Everything was almost perfect in Vista Valley. The children were always happy, the aged always well. It only rained at night while everyone slept. Fruits and vegetables were harvested daily. Birds in colors of bright orange and yellow filled the sky and offered their constant music. Lush lawns of azure and turquoise were kept trim by roving herds of luria, a most pleasant yet somewhat shy animal. Trees with leaves in the colors of blonde, ebony and persephone grew tall and straight except for that of the rünt. It remained low to the ground allowing for easy pickings of its honeysuckle ice. Fettuccine plants tended to sprout on their own in pantries.
Now some would admit that there were a few problems. Everyone named their dog Max. It was a tradition that began before folklore but could prove to be expensive to the first to call their pet to supper. Eyebrows had to be trimmed from time to time. And on Sunday mornings Mr. Foster sang off key. But by and large things were ideal.
Oh things had not always been so. History books told of war and famine. At one time people intentionally killed others and in some instances were put to death themselves.
Buildings called prisons held those who couldn’t obey writings called laws. Pestilence
was not unknown and most germs were considered harmful. Medicines other than aspirin
were often needed and sometimes taken when not. Oppressive heat, wilting humidity and
bitter cold, unknown in Vista Valley, were once a staple of life. But now, and for as long as could be remembered, a gentle breeze was the harshest of elements.
•
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” little Danny Montgomery asked.
“What are you talking about?” his brother Wayne replied.
“Old man van der Graff just caught the glow. He lit up like a firefly, and then in a flash what was left of him blew away. Should we go tell his wife?”
“No. She’ll figure it out when he doesn’t come home.”
•
From time to time an errant citizen would cross over to the Other Side. No one really knew what was beyond the mountains. Those that left Vista Valley never returned. Surely death or worse was over the range. What more could one want than what was available locally. There was no reason to leave. Until now.
•
“Mrs. Patrick, can you tend to me?” asked six-year-old Bobby Martin. “My mama caught the glow this morning and my daddy this afternoon. I guess I’m now an orphan.”
“Of course sweetie. Come inside. I’ll make you a fig sandwich after I give you a hug. Then we’ll go up to the roof room and set up a pallet for you to sleep on. I see you brought your pillow.”
•
A consensus was building that it was time to call a meeting of the Valley Council,
something that had not occurred in a generation. Mr. Ledbetter, a gnosiologist by trade, was a member as was Mrs. Farrington, Mrs. North and Grandma Moran. Grandma Moran was not really a grandmother. In fact she had never married and had no children but she always wore an apron with pocket loads of applesauce cookies that she readily
shared and her hair was the color of coral which signified both age and wisdom though
she’d been born with it. A fifth member was needed, with reason neither given nor questioned. Gossip mills were redundant with talk that it would be seventeen-year-old Josiah Joplin who lived in The Edge. The Edge, you see, was the outermost part of the Valley and lay at the foot of the mountains.
All agreed that the meeting would begin at the morrow’s first twilight and take place in the Valley Visitors Center which was seldom used since the Valley never had any visitors. Mr. Ledbetter would preside.
“Normally we would open this meeting with the reading of the minutes of the previous but since they are not to be found we will pretermit the obligation. Mention has been made that we add Josiah Joplin to the council and since there are never objections so let it be. As his selection now makes him a full citizen he will henceforth be referred to as Mr. Joplin.”
Full citizenship was automatically granted to all upon their eighteenth birthday unless they were one of the confused. It meant little other than being conferred a title.
“We all know why we are here today and that is to have a discourse about the
subsequence of our valley. I’ve asked Inquisitor Weaver to give us a chronicle of
events.”
“Thank you Mr. Ledbetter. Approximately 400 days ago Mr. Campbell disappeared. As he had a want to wander for a spell little was thought of it. But he never returned and he wasn’t one to opine about going to the Other Side. Thirty days later Mrs. Garcia vanished. She left behind a husband and two daughters. Within four weeks two more
were gone. Mrs. Campbell was the first case confirmed. She had been talking with
thereabouts and nothing seemed troubling. Then as she was walking down the Old Colby Pergola, in full view of others, she caught the glow. She lit up as if on fire inside. Within seconds she and her clothes were a pile of dust. Yet the shopping list she had been holding was still intact.
“After that the glow would attack about one or two per month, all without symptoms, all without warning. Methodologists can find no reason why certain people catch it. Men and women are equally stricken. It doesn’t appear to be contagious, and so far children and animals seem immune. What’s worrisome is that three caught the glow just yesterday. Statistician Brown says that at that rate the Valley will go through a sustained period of non-regeneration for an unacceptable period of time.”
The auditorium, most of which was intentionally kept dim so as attention would be awarded upon the dais, suddenly brightened as Mr. Perrin in the third row stood up and caught the glow. For seconds his shape was that of a bright light, his form featureless. And as quickly as it began it was over. The room filled with a synchronized gasp. Most had never actually seen anyone catch the glow. Now all had.
“There was no heat. I felt nothing,” exclaimed Mr. Arnold. “I was sitting right next
to him.”
“Something must be done,” many demanded.
“We’ll all perish,” others cried.
The din became a murmur as the comely Miss Mayo arose.
“Mr. Ledbetter, someone must go to the Other Side. You know that. We all know that. Perhaps they have a solution.”
“But who?” asked Elder Rutherford. “We need a volunteer.”
“I will go,” the recently selected council member Mr. Joplin said. I am the youngest with full citizenship. I have no wife or children. Since I live in The Edge there will be less travel time. I will prepare on the morrow and leave the following.”
“It’s unanimous,” Mr. Ledbetter announced without calling for a vote.
“I’ll bake applesauce cookies for you to take,” promised Grandma Moran.
•
Bidden by the council to prepare for the unexpected Mr. Joplin packed with diligence. Items of seldom use were assembled. Matches. Pocket knife. Axe. Wool clothing. Hiking boots were fashioned using homemade stirrup spats attached to shoes designed for the ancient game called, as only one citizen could remember, gulf. A backsack was appropriated from a threadsmith. Fig sandwiches, taper nuts and fettuccini salad with pomegranate dressing, in all enough food for ten days, were stowed for the trip along with enough applesauce cookies to last three weeks. He knew the cookie quantity was more than adequate as he was not particularly partial to them.
Mr. Joplin was the ideal choice for the journey. His was a wiry build perfect for
climbing and the energy of his youth would provide endurance. The confidence he owned came equipped with the usual success. But in addition to the eagerness to serve the people of the Valley, he had a most important reason to be the first to return from the Other Side.
“Son,” his father often told him, “it’s up to you to see that our family name continues. We, you and I, are the last two male Joplin’s. Yes, your mother is still fertile. But with
five children we simply cannot afford another. Once you become a citizen, marry and
multiply. And have many, many boys.”
An assemblage of the council members, close family and less than a few other citizens gathered just before the morn began to see him off. Optimism and expectations were abundantly bestowed upon him. Then he left, walking a score before turning to wave goodbye. It was then that his father caught the glow. There would be no time to mourn. That would be left for his mother and sisters. The final Mr. Joplin was now on a mission.
The mountains set upon a base, scarlotta in color, of sheer rises that encircled the Valley like a wall and causing many to wonder how the few that departed to the Other Side began their trip. Mr. Joplin began his by negotiating the scree at the bottom. The steep above was near a score-thirty high requiring the use of the axe and a grip he did not know he possessed. After the better part of the day he reached the area where the pitch was not as daunting. Enough light remained for him to find a grade suitable for the eve. The degree fell enough to warrant him enkindling a fire for warmth. A light meal was followed by sleep constantly interrupted by a distant howl of unwelcoming nature.
As the days accrued so did the distance from the Valley grow even while the degree
continued to tumble. More common became the howls of unwelcoming nature. They neared.
On the fifth day a new challenge arose even as the incline abated. Ahead lay a broad expanse of dark gray fog that towered from the ground to heights far above the clouds and circumscribed all those within the Valley. He stuck his hand in to find the murk had the consistency of mud without the moistness. Upon removal he found his hand to be
unharmed and unsoiled. As the sounds of unwelcoming nature came to near a length
away he stepped in fully.
Walking was laborious and breathing difficult. The silence was disconcerting. Without bearings there was worry of plodding in circles. The sense of time became deadened. He had found the haven for dread.
The trudge of 10000 paces finally ended and he entered the Other Side. Twilight was near, exhaustion consumed him and he was captured by sleep.
He awoke to the resonance of the thunder. The sun was up though it lurked behind the clouds. Then rain fell, an event that only occurred at night in the Valley. But the duration was brief which allowed him to scout the unfamiliar. Shade was not provided by leaves in colors of blonde, ebony and persephone but by that of green. Grass, sparse at this altitude, came in a similar hue. The plumage of the birds was painted from a more subdued palette while the complexion of the animals likened camouflage. Absent were the howls of unwelcoming nature.
The undulating downscape of the hills encroached upon a broad prairie of untended grass and a scarcity of anything else. Heat became omnipresent even when the sunlight
vanished. Wool clothing was replaced by breeches and an unencumbered shirt. Nourishment was now limited to a scant supply of applesauce cookies. His wiry build neared emaciation. Then the smell of life evidenced itself followed by the sight of a township ahead. A fortnight had passed since his mission began.
The township was quite different from the Valley and Mr. Joplin was is awe. The pergolas were wide and uncovered and with a base of smooth, symmetrical rocks. He
found that most were called streets, a few roads and one a highway. Citizens, collectively
referred to as people and individually as a person, used those streets to go from place to place in carts called cars powered by engines instead of the bald equine used in the Valley.
Most people went by their given name so Mr. Joplin began again going by Josiah. He soon learned that dogs rudely ignored him when he commanded, “Come Max.” Apples were apples and figs were figs but the figs were made into something called newtons. Sandwiches contained meat, an ingredient he needed to develop a taste for. He much preferred peanut butter and jelly. The fettuccine here was completely different and instead of growing on plants was fashioned out of, from what he understood, a flower.
It took time to convince him that small boxes called radios didn’t house people with no bodies who talked at all hours. He thought better than to ask about televisions.
Finding information about and hopefully a cure for the glow was his goal but finding food and shelter was paramount. As suspected the money he brought was worthless except for the curiosity it bought. The people, though somewhat friendly, were not generous. He was usually told to “get a job” so that became his first order of business.
Unfortunately he didn’t have a work card which was asked for everywhere he applied except for one restaurant. What a strange concept he thought. People would actually pay money for others to prepare meals for them and allow them to eat right there, then left money on the table for him for simply asking what they would like to eat and then bringing it to their table. He would recommend the idea to the council upon his return.
On his second day at work a pregnant woman came in to meet a friend for lunch.
“Oh Meagan, you have that glow,” the companion said.
The glow. The glow. He realized they had the glow here too. And since she was still alive they had found some manner to avoid expiration. The restaurant provided him with nourishment and money and he found shelter in a place of the same name. He would now devote his free time to find the solution to the problem of the glow. His mission once again became his focal point. Nothing would deter him. Then he met Maria.
It was her first day at work and his third. She was together pretty, cute and beautiful. Raven hair accented eyes that smiled and a smile that belonged to him alone when he looked her way. They began taking long walks together and would often picnic in the park. She became as comfortable as an old sofa with the relationship and told tales of her eighteen years. He was in love yet wary of saying too much about Vista Valley. But as their first few days together turned into a first few months, their lives melded and he moved from the shelter to her bedroom.
Maria Nuñez was born here in the town of Hardwicke and seldom ventured elsewhere. She was the only daughter of a single mother who loved her daughter dearly though
longed for the day the girl would spread her wings and leave the nest. This was Maria’s
first job and she was intent on saving enough money for furniture.
She expressed dreams of seeing far-off places and having adventures, of helping
others and making a difference, and remaining true to her values. Being an only child was not entertaining enough for her so she wanted a large family with many, many sons.
“Something tells me we share similar aspirations,” she told him.
“Yes, all of that. But I’ve been to a far-off land and I’m on an adventure now. In fact I’m on a mission. But I need some help. Maybe you can assist. But first I need you to sit down and listen.”
Josiah told of Vista Valley and trees with leaves in the colors of blonde, ebony and
persephone, birds with feathers in bright orange and yellow, lush lawns of azure and turquoise and the wild luria that kept them trimmed. He described fig sandwiches and applesauce cookies. And she wondered where this magical place was.
He then detailed his voyage and the mountains and howls of unwelcoming nature and the wall of fog and the trudge of 10000 paces through it. And she sat in amazement.
“But why?” she asked. “Why would you leave such a pleasant place and endure such hardship to come here? There must have been a reason.”
Finally he described the glow and its devastating effect on his people and the possible end of the family name and the death of his father. And her silence filled the room.
“What do people here do about the glow?”
“Wha? What? There’s nothing like that here. What would make you think that?”
“One woman in the restaurant told another she had that glow.”
“Oh, she must have been pregnant. It’s just an expression. We need to talk. But first
you should talk with someone smarter than me. I’ve never heard of this mystical place you’re from. There’s a retired professor who might be able to shed some light. And I
know nothing of this glow you’re talking about. A doctor might be able to help. You can talk with the one I saw this morning.”
“Why did you go to a doctor? Are you sick?”
“Josiah, I’m pregnant.”
And his silence filled the room.
Their meeting with Professor Adams took place two days later between the lunch and
dinner crowds. Josiah talked at length about Vista Valley and the wall of fog separating
it from far-off places. The professor’s brow furrowed in thought. Then he arose to retrieve two weathered tomes and an atlas from a top shelf. The atlas was opened then turned to face Josiah.
“See this dot?” the professor asked not expecting an answer. “That’s Hardwicke, where we are. And what page is it on?”
“Fifty,” was the reply.
“Now turn the page back one and tell me the number.”
“Forty-eight. What happened to page forty-nine?”
“No one really knows. That’s an old atlas. The newer ones have since corrected the sequence but what should be on page forty-nine is a vast unknown. There lie uncharted mountains and a mysterious barrier that prevents airplanes from flying over. Perhaps that is the fog of which you speak. You are the only one to relate first hand stories of what is there, at least to my knowledge. Now let me do some research. Come back in a week.”
Ken Grigg
The remnant of the long-employed whisk labored little in its current duty of herding the cinders into the shovel.
“Morning Kermit."
“Morning Mrs. Bonner.”
“What’s that you’re sweeping up?”
“Oh, Mrs. Prescott I suppose. She just left the store with some apples. Looks like them over there.”
Everything was almost perfect in Vista Valley. The children were always happy, the aged always well. It only rained at night while everyone slept. Fruits and vegetables were harvested daily. Birds in colors of bright orange and yellow filled the sky and offered their constant music. Lush lawns of azure and turquoise were kept trim by roving herds of luria, a most pleasant yet somewhat shy animal. Trees with leaves in the colors of blonde, ebony and persephone grew tall and straight except for that of the rünt. It remained low to the ground allowing for easy pickings of its honeysuckle ice. Fettuccine plants tended to sprout on their own in pantries.
Now some would admit that there were a few problems. Everyone named their dog Max. It was a tradition that began before folklore but could prove to be expensive to the first to call their pet to supper. Eyebrows had to be trimmed from time to time. And on Sunday mornings Mr. Foster sang off key. But by and large things were ideal.
Oh things had not always been so. History books told of war and famine. At one time people intentionally killed others and in some instances were put to death themselves.
Buildings called prisons held those who couldn’t obey writings called laws. Pestilence
was not unknown and most germs were considered harmful. Medicines other than aspirin
were often needed and sometimes taken when not. Oppressive heat, wilting humidity and
bitter cold, unknown in Vista Valley, were once a staple of life. But now, and for as long as could be remembered, a gentle breeze was the harshest of elements.
•
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” little Danny Montgomery asked.
“What are you talking about?” his brother Wayne replied.
“Old man van der Graff just caught the glow. He lit up like a firefly, and then in a flash what was left of him blew away. Should we go tell his wife?”
“No. She’ll figure it out when he doesn’t come home.”
•
From time to time an errant citizen would cross over to the Other Side. No one really knew what was beyond the mountains. Those that left Vista Valley never returned. Surely death or worse was over the range. What more could one want than what was available locally. There was no reason to leave. Until now.
•
“Mrs. Patrick, can you tend to me?” asked six-year-old Bobby Martin. “My mama caught the glow this morning and my daddy this afternoon. I guess I’m now an orphan.”
“Of course sweetie. Come inside. I’ll make you a fig sandwich after I give you a hug. Then we’ll go up to the roof room and set up a pallet for you to sleep on. I see you brought your pillow.”
•
A consensus was building that it was time to call a meeting of the Valley Council,
something that had not occurred in a generation. Mr. Ledbetter, a gnosiologist by trade, was a member as was Mrs. Farrington, Mrs. North and Grandma Moran. Grandma Moran was not really a grandmother. In fact she had never married and had no children but she always wore an apron with pocket loads of applesauce cookies that she readily
shared and her hair was the color of coral which signified both age and wisdom though
she’d been born with it. A fifth member was needed, with reason neither given nor questioned. Gossip mills were redundant with talk that it would be seventeen-year-old Josiah Joplin who lived in The Edge. The Edge, you see, was the outermost part of the Valley and lay at the foot of the mountains.
All agreed that the meeting would begin at the morrow’s first twilight and take place in the Valley Visitors Center which was seldom used since the Valley never had any visitors. Mr. Ledbetter would preside.
“Normally we would open this meeting with the reading of the minutes of the previous but since they are not to be found we will pretermit the obligation. Mention has been made that we add Josiah Joplin to the council and since there are never objections so let it be. As his selection now makes him a full citizen he will henceforth be referred to as Mr. Joplin.”
Full citizenship was automatically granted to all upon their eighteenth birthday unless they were one of the confused. It meant little other than being conferred a title.
“We all know why we are here today and that is to have a discourse about the
subsequence of our valley. I’ve asked Inquisitor Weaver to give us a chronicle of
events.”
“Thank you Mr. Ledbetter. Approximately 400 days ago Mr. Campbell disappeared. As he had a want to wander for a spell little was thought of it. But he never returned and he wasn’t one to opine about going to the Other Side. Thirty days later Mrs. Garcia vanished. She left behind a husband and two daughters. Within four weeks two more
were gone. Mrs. Campbell was the first case confirmed. She had been talking with
thereabouts and nothing seemed troubling. Then as she was walking down the Old Colby Pergola, in full view of others, she caught the glow. She lit up as if on fire inside. Within seconds she and her clothes were a pile of dust. Yet the shopping list she had been holding was still intact.
“After that the glow would attack about one or two per month, all without symptoms, all without warning. Methodologists can find no reason why certain people catch it. Men and women are equally stricken. It doesn’t appear to be contagious, and so far children and animals seem immune. What’s worrisome is that three caught the glow just yesterday. Statistician Brown says that at that rate the Valley will go through a sustained period of non-regeneration for an unacceptable period of time.”
The auditorium, most of which was intentionally kept dim so as attention would be awarded upon the dais, suddenly brightened as Mr. Perrin in the third row stood up and caught the glow. For seconds his shape was that of a bright light, his form featureless. And as quickly as it began it was over. The room filled with a synchronized gasp. Most had never actually seen anyone catch the glow. Now all had.
“There was no heat. I felt nothing,” exclaimed Mr. Arnold. “I was sitting right next
to him.”
“Something must be done,” many demanded.
“We’ll all perish,” others cried.
The din became a murmur as the comely Miss Mayo arose.
“Mr. Ledbetter, someone must go to the Other Side. You know that. We all know that. Perhaps they have a solution.”
“But who?” asked Elder Rutherford. “We need a volunteer.”
“I will go,” the recently selected council member Mr. Joplin said. I am the youngest with full citizenship. I have no wife or children. Since I live in The Edge there will be less travel time. I will prepare on the morrow and leave the following.”
“It’s unanimous,” Mr. Ledbetter announced without calling for a vote.
“I’ll bake applesauce cookies for you to take,” promised Grandma Moran.
•
Bidden by the council to prepare for the unexpected Mr. Joplin packed with diligence. Items of seldom use were assembled. Matches. Pocket knife. Axe. Wool clothing. Hiking boots were fashioned using homemade stirrup spats attached to shoes designed for the ancient game called, as only one citizen could remember, gulf. A backsack was appropriated from a threadsmith. Fig sandwiches, taper nuts and fettuccini salad with pomegranate dressing, in all enough food for ten days, were stowed for the trip along with enough applesauce cookies to last three weeks. He knew the cookie quantity was more than adequate as he was not particularly partial to them.
Mr. Joplin was the ideal choice for the journey. His was a wiry build perfect for
climbing and the energy of his youth would provide endurance. The confidence he owned came equipped with the usual success. But in addition to the eagerness to serve the people of the Valley, he had a most important reason to be the first to return from the Other Side.
“Son,” his father often told him, “it’s up to you to see that our family name continues. We, you and I, are the last two male Joplin’s. Yes, your mother is still fertile. But with
five children we simply cannot afford another. Once you become a citizen, marry and
multiply. And have many, many boys.”
An assemblage of the council members, close family and less than a few other citizens gathered just before the morn began to see him off. Optimism and expectations were abundantly bestowed upon him. Then he left, walking a score before turning to wave goodbye. It was then that his father caught the glow. There would be no time to mourn. That would be left for his mother and sisters. The final Mr. Joplin was now on a mission.
The mountains set upon a base, scarlotta in color, of sheer rises that encircled the Valley like a wall and causing many to wonder how the few that departed to the Other Side began their trip. Mr. Joplin began his by negotiating the scree at the bottom. The steep above was near a score-thirty high requiring the use of the axe and a grip he did not know he possessed. After the better part of the day he reached the area where the pitch was not as daunting. Enough light remained for him to find a grade suitable for the eve. The degree fell enough to warrant him enkindling a fire for warmth. A light meal was followed by sleep constantly interrupted by a distant howl of unwelcoming nature.
As the days accrued so did the distance from the Valley grow even while the degree
continued to tumble. More common became the howls of unwelcoming nature. They neared.
On the fifth day a new challenge arose even as the incline abated. Ahead lay a broad expanse of dark gray fog that towered from the ground to heights far above the clouds and circumscribed all those within the Valley. He stuck his hand in to find the murk had the consistency of mud without the moistness. Upon removal he found his hand to be
unharmed and unsoiled. As the sounds of unwelcoming nature came to near a length
away he stepped in fully.
Walking was laborious and breathing difficult. The silence was disconcerting. Without bearings there was worry of plodding in circles. The sense of time became deadened. He had found the haven for dread.
The trudge of 10000 paces finally ended and he entered the Other Side. Twilight was near, exhaustion consumed him and he was captured by sleep.
He awoke to the resonance of the thunder. The sun was up though it lurked behind the clouds. Then rain fell, an event that only occurred at night in the Valley. But the duration was brief which allowed him to scout the unfamiliar. Shade was not provided by leaves in colors of blonde, ebony and persephone but by that of green. Grass, sparse at this altitude, came in a similar hue. The plumage of the birds was painted from a more subdued palette while the complexion of the animals likened camouflage. Absent were the howls of unwelcoming nature.
The undulating downscape of the hills encroached upon a broad prairie of untended grass and a scarcity of anything else. Heat became omnipresent even when the sunlight
vanished. Wool clothing was replaced by breeches and an unencumbered shirt. Nourishment was now limited to a scant supply of applesauce cookies. His wiry build neared emaciation. Then the smell of life evidenced itself followed by the sight of a township ahead. A fortnight had passed since his mission began.
The township was quite different from the Valley and Mr. Joplin was is awe. The pergolas were wide and uncovered and with a base of smooth, symmetrical rocks. He
found that most were called streets, a few roads and one a highway. Citizens, collectively
referred to as people and individually as a person, used those streets to go from place to place in carts called cars powered by engines instead of the bald equine used in the Valley.
Most people went by their given name so Mr. Joplin began again going by Josiah. He soon learned that dogs rudely ignored him when he commanded, “Come Max.” Apples were apples and figs were figs but the figs were made into something called newtons. Sandwiches contained meat, an ingredient he needed to develop a taste for. He much preferred peanut butter and jelly. The fettuccine here was completely different and instead of growing on plants was fashioned out of, from what he understood, a flower.
It took time to convince him that small boxes called radios didn’t house people with no bodies who talked at all hours. He thought better than to ask about televisions.
Finding information about and hopefully a cure for the glow was his goal but finding food and shelter was paramount. As suspected the money he brought was worthless except for the curiosity it bought. The people, though somewhat friendly, were not generous. He was usually told to “get a job” so that became his first order of business.
Unfortunately he didn’t have a work card which was asked for everywhere he applied except for one restaurant. What a strange concept he thought. People would actually pay money for others to prepare meals for them and allow them to eat right there, then left money on the table for him for simply asking what they would like to eat and then bringing it to their table. He would recommend the idea to the council upon his return.
On his second day at work a pregnant woman came in to meet a friend for lunch.
“Oh Meagan, you have that glow,” the companion said.
The glow. The glow. He realized they had the glow here too. And since she was still alive they had found some manner to avoid expiration. The restaurant provided him with nourishment and money and he found shelter in a place of the same name. He would now devote his free time to find the solution to the problem of the glow. His mission once again became his focal point. Nothing would deter him. Then he met Maria.
It was her first day at work and his third. She was together pretty, cute and beautiful. Raven hair accented eyes that smiled and a smile that belonged to him alone when he looked her way. They began taking long walks together and would often picnic in the park. She became as comfortable as an old sofa with the relationship and told tales of her eighteen years. He was in love yet wary of saying too much about Vista Valley. But as their first few days together turned into a first few months, their lives melded and he moved from the shelter to her bedroom.
Maria Nuñez was born here in the town of Hardwicke and seldom ventured elsewhere. She was the only daughter of a single mother who loved her daughter dearly though
longed for the day the girl would spread her wings and leave the nest. This was Maria’s
first job and she was intent on saving enough money for furniture.
She expressed dreams of seeing far-off places and having adventures, of helping
others and making a difference, and remaining true to her values. Being an only child was not entertaining enough for her so she wanted a large family with many, many sons.
“Something tells me we share similar aspirations,” she told him.
“Yes, all of that. But I’ve been to a far-off land and I’m on an adventure now. In fact I’m on a mission. But I need some help. Maybe you can assist. But first I need you to sit down and listen.”
Josiah told of Vista Valley and trees with leaves in the colors of blonde, ebony and
persephone, birds with feathers in bright orange and yellow, lush lawns of azure and turquoise and the wild luria that kept them trimmed. He described fig sandwiches and applesauce cookies. And she wondered where this magical place was.
He then detailed his voyage and the mountains and howls of unwelcoming nature and the wall of fog and the trudge of 10000 paces through it. And she sat in amazement.
“But why?” she asked. “Why would you leave such a pleasant place and endure such hardship to come here? There must have been a reason.”
Finally he described the glow and its devastating effect on his people and the possible end of the family name and the death of his father. And her silence filled the room.
“What do people here do about the glow?”
“Wha? What? There’s nothing like that here. What would make you think that?”
“One woman in the restaurant told another she had that glow.”
“Oh, she must have been pregnant. It’s just an expression. We need to talk. But first
you should talk with someone smarter than me. I’ve never heard of this mystical place you’re from. There’s a retired professor who might be able to shed some light. And I
know nothing of this glow you’re talking about. A doctor might be able to help. You can talk with the one I saw this morning.”
“Why did you go to a doctor? Are you sick?”
“Josiah, I’m pregnant.”
And his silence filled the room.
Their meeting with Professor Adams took place two days later between the lunch and
dinner crowds. Josiah talked at length about Vista Valley and the wall of fog separating
it from far-off places. The professor’s brow furrowed in thought. Then he arose to retrieve two weathered tomes and an atlas from a top shelf. The atlas was opened then turned to face Josiah.
“See this dot?” the professor asked not expecting an answer. “That’s Hardwicke, where we are. And what page is it on?”
“Fifty,” was the reply.
“Now turn the page back one and tell me the number.”
“Forty-eight. What happened to page forty-nine?”
“No one really knows. That’s an old atlas. The newer ones have since corrected the sequence but what should be on page forty-nine is a vast unknown. There lie uncharted mountains and a mysterious barrier that prevents airplanes from flying over. Perhaps that is the fog of which you speak. You are the only one to relate first hand stories of what is there, at least to my knowledge. Now let me do some research. Come back in a week.”
Friday, October 2, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Takin' Bacon
Goats just don't cut it.
From the New York Times
Belatedly, Egypt Spots Flaws in Wiping Out Pigs
By MICHAEL SLACKMAN
Published: September 19, 2009
CAIRO — It is unlikely anyone has ever come to this city and commented on how clean the streets are. But this litter-strewn metropolis is now wrestling with a garbage problem so severe it has managed to incite its weary residents and command the attention of the president.
“The problem is clear in the streets,” said Haitham Kamal, a spokesman for the Ministry of State for Environmental Affairs. “There is a strict and intensive effort now from the state to address this issue.”
But the crisis should not have come as a surprise.
When the government killed all the pigs in Egypt this spring — in what public health experts said was a misguided attempt to combat swine flu — it was warned the city would be overwhelmed with trash.
The pigs used to eat tons of organic waste. Now the pigs are gone and the rotting food piles up on the streets of middle-class neighborhoods like Heliopolis and in the poor streets of communities like Imbaba.
Ramadan Hediya, 35, who makes deliveries for a supermarket, lives in Madinat el Salam, a low-income community on the outskirts of Cairo.
“The whole area is trash,” Mr. Hediya said. “All the pathways are full of trash. When you open up your window to breathe, you find garbage heaps on the ground.”
What started out as an impulsive response to the swine flu threat has turned into a social, environmental and political problem for the Arab world’s most populous nation.
It has exposed the failings of a government where the power is concentrated at the top, where decisions are often carried out with little consideration for their consequences and where follow-up is often nonexistent, according to social commentators and government officials.
“The main problem in Egypt is follow-up,” said Sabir Abdel Aziz Galal, chief of the infectious disease department at the Ministry of Agriculture. “A decision is taken, there is follow-up for a period of time, but after that, they get busy with something else and forget about it. This is the case with everything.”
Speaking broadly, there are two systems for receiving services in Egypt: The government system and the do-it-yourself system. Instead of following the channels of bureaucracy, most people rely on an informal system of personal contacts and bribes to get a building permit, pass an inspection, get a driver’s license — or make a living.
“The straight and narrow path is just too bureaucratic and burdensome for the rich person, and for the poor, the formal system does not provide him with survival, it does not give him safety, security or meet his needs,” said Laila Iskandar Kamel, chairwoman of a community development organization in Cairo.
Cairo’s garbage collection belonged to the informal sector. The government hired multinational companies to collect the trash, and the companies decided to place bins around the city.
But they failed to understand the ethos of the community. People do not take their garbage out. They are accustomed to seeing someone collecting it from the door.
For more than half a century, those collectors were the zabaleen, a community of Egyptian Christians who live on the cliffs on the eastern edge of the city. They collected the trash, sold the recyclables and fed the organic waste to their pigs — which they then slaughtered and ate.
Killing all the pigs, all at once, “was the stupidest thing they ever did,” Ms. Kamel said, adding, “This is just one more example of poorly informed decision makers.”
When the swine flu fear first emerged, long before even one case was reported in Egypt, President Hosni Mubarak ordered that all the pigs be killed in order to prevent the spread of the disease.
When health officials worldwide said that the virus was not being passed by pigs, the Egyptian government said that the cull was no longer about the flu, but was about cleaning up the zabaleen’s crowded, filthy, neighborhood.
That was in May.
Today the streets of the zabaleen community are as packed with stinking trash and as clouded with flies as ever before. But the zabaleen have done exactly what they said they would do: they stopped taking care of most of the organic waste.
Instead they dump it wherever they can or, at best, pile it beside trash bins scattered around the city by the international companies that have struggled in vain to keep up with the trash.
“They killed the pigs, let them clean the city,” said Moussa Rateb, a former garbage collector and pig owner who lives in the community of the zabaleen. “Everything used to go to the pigs, now there are no pigs, so it goes to the administration.”
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Shawn Baldwin for The New York Times
A woman picked through garbage in Cairo. A delicate balance of trash collecting has been upset, and garbage is everywhere.
The government says that the dispute has been resolved, but nothing has been done to repair the damage to the informal system that once had the zabaleen take Cairo’s trash home.
The garbage is only the latest example of the state’s struggling to meet the needs of its citizens, needs as basic as providing water, housing, health care and education.
The government announced last week that schools would not be opened until the first week of October to give the government time to prepare for a potential swine flu outbreak, a decision that could have been made anytime over the past three months, while schools were closed for summer break, critics said.
Officials in the Ministry of Health and other government ministries said they had not made this decision — and that they had counseled against pre-emptive school closings.
It appears to have been ordered by the presidency and carried out by the governors, who also ordered that all private schools, already in class, be shut down as well.
“We did not propose or call for postponing schools, so the reason is not with us,” said an official in the Ministry of Health who spoke on the condition of anonymity because the person was not authorized to speak to the news media.
The heads of three large governorates, or states, in Egypt announced Wednesday that their strategy for keeping schoolchildren safe was to take classes, which on average are crowded with more than 60 students, and split them in half and have children attend school only three days a week, another decision that was criticized. There have been more than 800 confirmed cases of H1N1 in Egypt, and two flu-related deaths.
“The state is troubled; as a result the system of decision making is disintegrating,” said Galal Amin, an economist, writer and social critic. “They are ill-considered decisions taken in a bit of a hurry, either because you’re trying to please the president or because you are a weak government that is anxious to please somebody.”
Cairo’s streets have always been busy with children and littered with trash.
Now, with the pigs gone, and the schools closed, they are even more so.
“The Egyptians are really in a mess,” Mr. Amin said.
Mona el-Naggar contributed reporting.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Cowboys at the Cotton Bowl
The Cotton Bowl is where it all began for the Cowboys. Tom Franckhauser pulled down Ray Renfro of the Cleveland Browns in October 1960, when tickets were $6 and Dallas had two professional teams.
From The Dallas Morning News
Mud, blood and Dr Pepper in the Cotton Bowl: Now that's a dream stadium
Saturday, September 19, 2009
By MICHAEL GRANBERRY / The Dallas Morning News
mgranberry@dallasnews.com
On a rainy Saturday in 1959, my father took me to the Cotton Bowl. Navy was playing Southern Methodist, whose quarterback was Dad's favorite, Don Meredith. As a second-grader, I was enthralled by the feast of color that lay before me – lush green grass, blood-stained helmets and jerseys, hooded rain gear and mud. Lots of mud. It didn't matter that I was drenched and shivering, my Dr Pepper overflowing with rainwater.
It was my first game in person, and I was in heaven.
A year later, we welcomed the pro game, when Dallas went from having no teams to having two. This embarrassment of riches also took place at the Cotton Bowl, where the Dallas Texans (who left in 1963 to become the Kansas City Chiefs) and the Dallas Cowboys charged $6 for sideline seats.
For this astonishing price, we got to see Jim Brown, Y.A. Tittle, Bart Starr, Paul Hornung and Meredith, who hailed from East Texas – as my mom and dad did. Almost overnight, Dandy Don became our Heartbreak Kid Hero, whose magic moments and agonizing losses were as intertwined with the lure and mystique of the Cotton Bowl as Doak Walker, the Texas-OU game and Alabama's Tommy Lewis jumping off the bench to tackle Rice's Dicky Moegle during the 1954 Cotton Bowl Classic, a game my father saw.
So, I think of Dad, who died in 2001, each time I drive to Cowboys Stadium. I belong to a loyal corps of fans who have rooted for the Cowboys at three generations of stadiums – the Cotton Bowl, which for us will always be their spiritual home; Texas Stadium, cold and impersonal and yet where the Glory Days unfolded; and what I call The Palace, a bold, architectural statement where the prices leave me laughing and whose accoutrements could have been imagined in 1971 (when the Cowboys abandoned Fair Park for Irving) only in an acid trip.
What would Dad have said about the 53-yard-wide high-definition video board that I and all the other fans found ourselves staring at for almost all of a recent pre-season game? "If you're going to watch TV, watch it at home!" As Josh, my 13-year-old, later confessed: "I only watched the field when they punted, to see if they would hit the screen."
And the prices! Josh and I spent $40 for parking and bought two mediocre barbecue beef sandwiches, two bags of Lay's baked potato chips and a pair of Dr Peppers for a staggering $35. Our tickets – $29 each but standing room only – were the bargain of the night, though almost five times more expensive than the 20-yard-line seats I scored for $6 each during the Cowboys' golden years, part of a season-ticket package I bought with paper-route money.
Such a bargain won't happen, of course, at The Palace, which puts the "L" in lavish. Ice Bowls will cease to exist, except on your walk from an overpriced parking lot to a stadium that – shamefully – has no public transportation.
Ah, but it does have air conditioning, which would have made the 2000 season opener at Texas Stadium (a 41-14 loss to Philadelphia) a tad more tolerable. That day, it was a sizzling 109 degrees at kickoff. Texas Stadium was always the hottest place in the summer, the coldest place in the winter, but it was Roger Staubach's Comeback Alley, where Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin and Emmitt Smith earned three championships and where the inscrutable Duane Thomas scored the first touchdown, a 56-yard run that matched his poetic description of a style all his own: "I move through the shadows, then a flash of daylight. I run like in a dream. When I run, I am the dream."
For me, the dream will always be sitting in the Cotton Bowl with Dad, watching Dandy Don rifle a touchdown pass to Bob Hayes, and if we're cold and wet, hey, it's even better. Because it was, after all, the best 6 bucks we ever spent.
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