Urban Waite - Far Cry - Absolution

When the headlights broke from around a bend in the road far off and spread their light toward her she was quick to drop off the road and hide herself within the underbrush. But the vehicle did not pass her by. It stopped fifty feet away, its headlights reaching out across the pavement, and the dusky light of the setting sun giving everything a tinge of auburn red.

She heard a door open, then she heard the sound of boots on cement and she watched the shape of a man walk out and through the light of the headlights as he came toward her. She backed now, increasing her distance, almost certain she would run. Almost certain she would need to dive headlong through the brush, that whoever had seen her would go after her and finish whatever had been started days before.

But when she heard her name it was not the same voice she had heard calling to her in the mountains. It was not John’s voice or any she had heard in a very long time. She stood now and she came forward. She heard her name called again. She walked up onto the road, almost disbelieving she had found him, or that it was him that had actually found her.

“Drew?” she said.

He stood looking down on her from there atop the road. He was thinner than she remembered, but bigger in the chest and in the shoulders and though he was bearded, his skin and eyes were much the same and she knew he was the same brother she had so often thought about and that her father had gone to find.

“Drew,” she said again, just to say it, just to speak his name as if she feared she might not get another chance.

“It’s me,” he said. He walked forward and put a hand out and he pulled her up from out of the roadside ditch. He was a few inches taller than her and he pulled her into him and hugged her, holding her for a long time.

“You heard about Daddy?” she asked. “And Mamma?”

He let her go. He stood close to her, his arms still holding her shoulders. “I heard,” he said. “I heard what happened.”

“He tried to come and get you.” The tears were coming now and she could not stop them. She looked away and he pulled her close again and she could feel the way he held her. She could feel the way his lungs moved and she let her head down onto his chest and she cried for what seemed a very long while.

When she was done, when she had pulled away and had wiped a hand across her eyes, he said, “Let’s get you home. Let’s get you somewhere warm. Let’s get you some food and water. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

She looked at him for a time and she stood there waiting and thinking of what to say next. She could hardly believe he was here, that he had found her and that he would take her away from this and everything could be the way it had always been meant to be.

“Come on,” he said.

He started to lead her back to the truck, but she stopped and then he stopped. She was looking at the insignia on the side of the truck and then she was looking up at him. “The truck? You’re driving one of their trucks. One of their church trucks.”

He looked at her like she might be crazy. He ran his eyes from her to the truck then back again. “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “You’re going to be just fine. I’m going to take you home. You’ll see. I’m your brother. You’re going to be fine with me.”

She looked at him. She let what he had said sit between them. “You’ll take me home?” she asked. “And you’ll come with me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Now get in the truck and let me help you.”

WILL CAME TO THE ROAD JUST AS THE BRAKE LIGHTS FLARED ONand the truck moved away. He watched the taillights until they were gone from sight. He had seen the road from higher up and he had seen the truck stop, then Mary May come up out of the ditch with the man standing over her, offering her his hand.

Almost in the same instant Will had gone crashing down through the dogwood and ash that had started to populate the land. He came out into the clearing before the road, knelt and swung the rifle around and looked through the scope to where the truck had parked there in the middle of the lane. Mary May was holding onto the man and Will put the crosshairs on him and waited for the man to release her. When he had—when he had stepped back from her and turned toward the truck—Will could see him now clear as he had seen Mary May standing there on the mountain looking back at him. It was her brother, Drew. Will let the rifle down and, with one knee still down in the dirt of the field just before the road, he watched both siblings climb into the truck and drive away.

Now, he walked the road for fifty feet and then stood looking out down the empty pavement. The light was all but gone, the blue of night settling in, and he could hear the chirping of frogs in the ditch off the side of the road. When he turned and looked opposite he found a lone maple tree standing in the middle of a clearing. And though it was not yet late summer, the leaves had turned and many had begun to fall and litter the ground below.

Will came down off the road, took a wide step across the ditch, and walked out into the field. The ground was boggy and in places he could see a foul mud that held atop it a greasy oil. He walked almost to the tree, but stopped just before it and stood looking up into the branches, knowing for its height and width that it had lived a long time in this place and might have lived even longer had the earth itself not changed.

As he stood there he could see several leaves come loose then drift down. The tree was not barren but it likely would be soon.

When John’s voice called to him from behind, Will did not turn. He kept looking up at the tree and wondering just how long it would go on.

“You did good,” John said. “Mary May is with us now. You helped to save her.”

Will turned. John stood there looking at him. Farther on, back by the road his men were standing, all of them with their weapons held crossways in their arms. Tired looking but at rest. “And Lonny?” Will asked. “He said he meant to kill her.”

“Yes,” John said. “I saw how he was going. I should have seen it sooner.”

“Sooner?”

“His drinking. The loosening of his faith. He was not a true believer,” John said. “He was breaking away from us, breaking away and falling in among his own past sins.”

“That’s why you tracked us? That’s why you followed us up the mountain?”

“Yes,” John said. “I could not trust him. I did not know if I could trust you. Lonny used to say you were an enigma.”

A leaf fell again, and it fluttered and flipped, end over end, then came to rest between them. “Enigma?”

“It was not the word he used,” John said. “But I see now that he was the one that could not be trusted. I should have seen it earlier. I should have known all of it, all he said and all he did, was all leading up to this.”

“I did not mean to kill him.”

“You didn’t kill him,” John said. “You would have never done a thing like that. He simply fell. He toppled over a cliff and he fell and broke his neck. It was an accident and all of us could see that clearly. His blood is not on your hands.”

Will locked eyes with John as he put a hand to Will’s shoulder.

“You are still with us. You are part of who we are. You have provided us with a service and we are thankful for you and all you do. There is no shame in this. Once you had owed us everything, but that time has long passed and it is us who now owe you. We will take you back to Eden’s Gate and there you will receive your blessing and we will give you a place to rest and help you just as you have helped us. You are still with us, aren’t you, Will?”

“Of course,” Will said, not knowing what else he could say.