Thy Eternal Summer (10/15)

Chapter 51

In the morning, they took counsel about their next action. They were reasonably certain to find survivors if they headed toward Liberty (the name of Jack's town, apparently), but they were unlikely to be able to help them, as they would probably want to huddle around what was left of their town, rebuild from there. The countryside was thus declared to be beyond their aid, and it was decided to head back to the farm.2

They loaded the sleeping bags and as many cans of food as would fit into the vehicles, and set out. Jack found the ride very bumpy, in comparison to the unnaturally smooth one the government vehicle gave. The land scape rattled by, crazily at times, due to the amount of driving around craters and over hills that Peter had to do. His wife sat next to him, sewing calmly, somehow not losing her grip or injuring anyone despite the tumbling about of the world. Jack and Jezebel sat in the back seat, Will between them. Blake paced them, riding the four square alongside.3

They followed what had been the road, navigating more or less reliably by the missile craters. They rode in silence, lost in their own thoughts, the hum of the motor and the louder, slightly more distant hum of the four square undercutting the silence. 4

After a couple hours of fairly fast driving, they turned off the missile path onto a dirt road. Peter smirked, breaking the silence for the first time during the trip.5

“They didn't think our road was important enough to hit,” he said. “Nor our farm, either. Can't say I'm upset. Insulted, maybe.”6

The farm was fairly typical of what he'd seen in documentaries: a barn, granaries, a couple towers, a machine shed, and a huge, old fashioned house. Jack got out and helped carry things inside, following Agatha's instructions on where to put things. He accompanied Peter back out to the Jeep. 7

“I wonder if the power's still on,” Peter said. “See, the enemy didn't even hit the power plants. Left them alone, actually, for the most part. Power in this country was turning itself off anyway. Even without the attack, all the lights would have been off in a few days.”8

They were back at the doorway now. Peter dropped the armload of cans he was holding—they rolled all over the floor, and Jezebel made an aggravated noise and rushed to pick them up—and Peter flipped the light switch by the door. The old fashioned appliance still had power, it seemed, for the light turned on.9

Agatha looked up at the light. “Turn that off, Peter,” she said. “You want to conserve what little of that we have left.”10

Jezebel, standing behind her mother, rolled her eyes. Peter laughed.11

“Power doesn't work that way, mother,” he said. “In fact, we should use as much of it as possible while we still have it. Charge batteries, and stuff, for when we really need them. We have the back up generator, but I don't want to use that unless absolutely necessary. We should pretty much prepare to live in the stone age.”12

Jezebel laughed, but Peter's face was serious. And, Jack reflected, it was true. The mass of people, as he had learned too late, were living in a sort of reconstructed stone age already. So why not simply regress to that state in reality? Tribes and axes, feuds and cave paintings. Anthropomorphic gods soon, probably. Oh hell, what had his prayer wrought?13

Jezebel bumped into him with her shoulder. “You're thinking again,” she said. “You always get that far off look when you think. It's never good for you, though, I'm pretty sure.”14

He smiled sidelong at her. “I suppose not.”15

Jack went to sleep that night in an old bed: its frame was of metal, its mattress actually stuffed, the pillow filled with feathers. According to the standards of modern manufacturers, it was a regression of at least a hundred years. It was the most comfortable thing Jack had ever slept on.16

Blake woke him. For a moment, Jack thought there was something wrong with his eyes, for the room was still dark, as were the curtains—for all intents and purposes, it was still night.17

But there was no mistake. This was the time that a farm day started. Jack went down to the kitchen, where he was fed bread and butter and meat and potatoes and various vegetables, all of which seemed to be unprocessed. He was encouraged to eat up, but to his later chagrin, didn't listen well enough. 18

Blake led him out to the barn, and taught him how to do “chores.” This consisted mainly of Blake doing various jobs with great skill and precision, and Jack clumsily imitating them. They went inside for lunch, which was similarly unprocessed to breakfast. 19

“Jack's doing well,” said Blake at one point. 20

Jack raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Blake. “I am?” he said. Agatha and Jezebel laughed.21

Blake looked at him as if shocked that he could have any contrary thoughts. “Yes!” he said. “You're doing great.”22

Jack shrugged, deciding he was too hungry to argue. 23

After lunch, Blake took him out across their land. It was an impressive plot of ground, alternating between wood and field. Blake pointed out the various crops, and told Jack of their harvesting and uses; they found the herd of cows in the woods, and Blake told Jack more things about cows than Jack would have thought it possible to know. 24

They went back to the farm stead then, as it was time for evening chores. Peter and Will went out and herded the cows in; Jack helped Blake with the things that needed doing closer to home. 25

He got to the table that night with a large appetite. He was sure that Agatha and Jezebel were both laughing at him, behind their hands, but he didn't care. When supper was over, he suddenly found himself very tired. He followed them out onto the front porch. Agatha and Peter sat on rocking chairs, Blake and Will sat on the steps, and Jack leaned himself against the side of the house near the railing. Jezebel curled up near him. 26

They sat in silence for several minutes. The house was built on the crest of a hill, and faced west. The sunset reached out arms of soft gold and enveloped them with warmth and beauty. Jack felt secure, looking at the heavens arrayed like that; he felt increasingly less secure, as the sun ebbed below the horizon.27

Peter began singing, softly.28

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound29

Jezebel and Agatha picked it up.30

That saved a wretch like me31

I once was lost, but now am found32

Was blind, but now I see33

Will picked it up, singing with gusto, but badly. Blake did too, reluctantly, glared into it on all sides. 34

Twas grace that taught my heart to fear35

And grace my fears relieved me36

How precious did that grace appear37

The hour I first believed38

Through many dangers, toils and snares39

We have already come40

Grace has brought us safe thus far41

And grace will lead us home42

When we've been there ten thousand years43

Bright shining as the sun44

We've no less days to sing God's praise45

Than when we first begun46

Their voices faded as the sun disappeared over the lip of the earth. They sat in further silence for a time. Then Agatha raised her voice, high and soft and quavering.47

When I survey the wondrous cross48

On which the Prince of Glory died49

My richest gain I count but loss50

And pour contempt on all my pride51

As the voices picked up around him, slow and sonorous, Jack found himself drifting to sleep in a haze of questioning thought. The cross? What was this ancient symbol? It appeared, over and over and over, in multitudinous form in prose and poetry—the cross, the dead God. But what did it mean? Who was this Prince of Glory?52

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast53

Save in the death of Christ, my God54

All the vain things that charm me most55

I sacrifice them to his blood56

See, from his head, his hands, his feet57

Sorrow and love flow mingled down58

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet59

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?60

Were the whole realm of nature mine61

That would be an offering far too small62

Love so amazing, so divine63

Demands my soul, my life, my all64

Jack found himself unable to keep his eyes open.65

He woke later, and the night was cold and dark, and the blanket of the sky stretched above him, the stars little pinpricks of brilliant light, like a city far away. There was a spot of warmth next to him; he realized Jezebel was sleeping there, her head resting on his shoulder, wisps of her dark hair playing across his shirt. He laid his hand gently on her hair, and rubbed her head lightly. She jerked up suddenly, and blinked away her sleepiness.66

“What...” she started, then she saw Jack and smiled. “Oh. Hi.”67

Jack grinned. “Hi,” he said softly, the old songs still drifting through his head.68

When he made no move to rise, she settled back against the wall of the house, and laid her head back on his shoulder, looking out at the land under the starlight. 69

“Gorgeous scene, isn't it?” she said.70

“Mm hmm,” said Jack, his mind still on the old dusty words of the old dusty religion. He turned to look at her, and she looked at him, her face amused as always, her eyes twinkling and flashing. “How do you believe... what you do?” he said. “How does it make sense?”71

She smiled, and looked off at the distant skies. “What has become of our attempts at perfection?” she said. “What... have you ever loved someone?”72

“I... yes,” said Jack. “I have.”73

“Perfectly?” she said.74

“Perfectly... what does that mean?” said Jack.75

“You know what it means,” she said. “And you know the answer, if you think about it long enough.”76

“I...” Jack stopped, and considered it at length. “I suppose not. I'm still not sure what you mean.”77

“Who were they?” she said. “If you don't mind me asking.”78

“No,” said Jack. “It's all right. My mom and my girlfriend, I suppose.”79

“Fine,” she said. “Your mom. Did you always do everything that was best for her? Always put her ahead of yourself? Never... never run out on her when your dad was acting badly?” she put this question softly enough, sympathetic even, that it almost didn't hurt.80

“No,” said Jack softly. “I never did.”81

“And your girlfriend, same question,” she said. “Different situations, of course, but did you always think of her before yourself?”82

“I...” said Jack. “I suppose I tried to. I did try to. But... the fact that I'm here, now, proves my failure.”83

“Yes,” said Jezebel. “We are all failures. We try to do good, do right, but we fail. There are too many weaknesses associated with this flesh, too much corrupt. The very idea of God—one who is good, who is perfect—is repugnant to us. Thus far are we removed from him. 84

“But if there is a perfect God, won't He know how to save us? And who could save us men, but another man? But not any man—the perfect man, the man who is also God. The only man who could have been perfect, the only one who need not have ever died, dying to provide a bridge to the inaccessible perfect God.85

“This,” she said. “Is what I believe.”86

Jack sat with his mouth open. Primitive superstition, he told himself. It's nothing but primitive superstition.87

They sat in silence a few minutes longer. Then, almost at the same instant, both stirred and rose. Jack walked in the door, past Blake who he realized had been standing by the front window watching the land for who knew how long. The two nodded at each other, and Jack went up to his bed. 88

There was actually sunlight behind the curtains, when he was awakened. He opened his eyes to Jezebel's face. He blinked at her, a little sleepily.89

“Blake thought you could use some extra rest today,” she said, laughing at his confusion. “It won't do to get you so worn out you can't do anything.”90

Jack nodded, rubbing his eyes. He was debating whether to ask if she knew how pretty she was early in the morning, but a shout from the other end of the house interrupted him. 91

“You kids get down here,” it was Agatha's voice. “You're going to want to see this!”92

Jack waited until Jezebel left the room, then dressed quickly. He hurried down the stair case, to see Agatha and Jezebel staring out the window, toward the end of the gravel driveway. Jack followed their gaze. Out toward the end of the drive, a hunched figure was moving slowly, throwing up a cloud of dust around it. Jack thought at first that it was a wounded animal, perhaps a dog. But as it got closer, he realized it was, in fact, a man.93

He opened the door and stepped forward. 94

“Don't,” said Agatha. “He could be dangerous.”95

Jack glanced at her. “Better we find that out away from you two. I'll be fine.”96

He walked down the drive way, and as he got closer, he realized that even had the man been dangerous once, he would not be any more. He was a large man, and seemed to be rather well built. But his skin was cut by many gashes, shallow and deep, and several of them were bleeding. His face was lined, and seemed unnaturally old, as if beaten by the winds of many storms. He raised his head as he heard Jack crunching toward him, and opened his mouth. Then he closed it again, and collapsed into the dust, his arms curled under his head as if asleep. 97

Jack ran the last few steps toward him. He tried to lift the man up, but he was too heavy, and Jack only succeeded in rolling him over. 98

The dinner bell, which Agatha used to call the men to meals, pealed out across the valley then. Jack made sure the man was breathing. Soon Peter and Blake arrived, and between the three of them, they managed to carry the man down the rest of the driveway and into the living room of the house. They laid him out on the couch, and Agatha and Jezebel attended to him with quiet efficiency. He had a fever, besides the wounds which badly needed binding. After that afternoon, when he didn't wake up, they moved him to the guest bedroom.99

That night, after chores, Will and Jack were in the guest bedroom, watching as Jezebel changed the man's wash cloths. Will was evaluating the man.100

“Must be a city dweller,” he said. 101

“Why is that?” said Jack.102

“He's got the self regulating shirt and pants. We don't have those out here, in case you haven't noticed; they get in the way. A government official, or a company executive, probably, from the worry lines on his face and the quality of the clothing. Maybe a military official, he has the look of a man used to keeping himself in shape. I don't know if he was in a fight, or a car wreck, or just had to escape a whole bunch of collapsing buildings; those scars are annoyingly ambiguous.” He cocked his head. “That necklace is interesting.” He was wearing a necklace, a knot of complex design. Jack hadn't really noticed it until now. “That's a fairly common design, or it used to be. But these days it's mostly only worn by Dissenters. Which, if that's what he is, he's escaped two deaths in the past two days.”103

“Ah,” was all Jack could say. 104

While they were waiting for the Stranger, as he came to be known, to recover from his sickness and injuries, Jack was learning the farm. He could help with morning and evening chores now, drive various vehicles, even help with the cows. 105

Blake finally got permission to teach him to shoot. He took Jack out on a Saturday with various rifles and a handgun. A couple of the rifles were fairly similar to the fast shooting, hard to aim pieces prevalent in movies, though disappointingly less dramatic. The others were longer barreled, semi automatic pieces. Jack took to both very well. The pistol challenged him more, for some reason. By the end of the day, he was fairly proficient in the various weapons.