The Road, James Gerard [classic novels to read txt] 📗

sound of the water flowing gently down the river sang a lovely bedtime song that put him to sleep and put extinguished the thought of building a fire.

 

*                    *                    *

 

Jerry opened his eyes and rolled over.  Looking around, the tranquility flooded the vision.  The bright blue sky was giving way to the subdued light given off by the sun that dipped below the horizon.  The water gently flowed down the river framing the reflection of a few clouds lazily drifting about.   He deeply yawned and took in the freshness of the air while stretching out the kinks then exhaling any tension captured by the pristine conditions.

 

He reached over to the duffle bag and pulled it closer.  After digging out one of the packages of C-rations, he first checked the contents then the expiration date.  Although the package had expired about thirty days ago, he felt the powers to be were over cautious about the food spoiling and thereby he ignored the order.   Jerry figured the worse he was going to get was an upset stomach.

 

Now a fire was needed.  Looking around for rocks teeming on the river’s edge, he quickly found a whole stash of them and starting tossing them in the direction of the one sided lean-to.  Forming them into a ring, he then gathered as many twigs as he could and positioned them in a heap.  Another search produced shorter, thicker broken pieces of limbs and branches.  A match lit the dry kindling easily enough.  The firewood was added.  In a matter of minutes the fire roared.  

 

Examining the pot included in the mess kit, he looked at the fire pit and whispered, “I need a tripod like contraption.”  He peered over the remaining pieces of limbs and branches and sized three of them up, but when he attempted to stand them against each other they simply would not stay in place.  He figured branches with twigs forming a vee at the ends were needed.  Another search produced exactly what was required.  Now the tripod, held together by the broad vee in one of the limbs, stood firmly in place. 

 

“Oops!” chuckled Jerry.  Boiling water was needed to heat the tin can of turkey, but all he brought along in the form of liquid was a few bottles of soda.  A glance at the river’s water provided the solution.  From what he knew and what he could see, the lack of human settlements up-river meant the water had not been polluted and spoiled, but he could not be sure.  But then he remembered something about how water could be boiled as a purification process.  “Ah, why not?” he reasoned and carefully stepped through the mud and scooped out a pot full of water.  The pot carefully suspended from the top of the tripod by its handle, the legs of the tripod fanned out a bit wider, the flames licked at the bottom of the pot.  The lid of the can was opened by the P-38 can opener and then placed in the water.

 

His back to the lean-to, the heat of the roaring fire warming the body, Jerry gulped down one of the sodas.  Looking at the boiling water he figured why not kill two birds with one stone.  Once the can of potted turkey was ready, fingers carefully took hold of the top rim and lifted it out.   The remaining  water, still in full boil from the hot flames, was then carefully poured from the pot and into the empty bottle.  Noticing the sentiment flowing about the bottled water, Jerry thought of something to use to act as a strainer to remove the debris.  Not having brought along an extra pair of socks or pants or shirt, he had no choice but to use one of the sheets as a strainer.  And while it was somewhat dirty, he figured the passing of the hot water through its threads would destroy anything harmful.

 

After eating, the garbage and extra food placed just behind the lean-to, Jerry drank down another soda and began the boiling process to fill both the bottles with potable water.  Once done, he through more firewood onto the fire and lay on the makeshift bed.  Looking up, the sight of the Northern Lights came into view.   As if they were angels dancing in joy while looking down at God’s wonderful and awesome creation, the waves of moving light filled the heavens.

 

For hours Jerry lay there quietly just in awe of the spectacular show of light.  But finally the excitement waned, the eyes close, and sleep took over.

 

*                    *                    *

 

Waking up early in the morning to the sight of glowing red embers and wispy black smoke, Jerry looked around to see if there were signs of any intruders that had happened upon the campsite during the night.  The food and trash was undisturbed.  There were no visible paw prints up or down the river.  The lean-to was still in place.  So much for warnings, he whimsically thought.

 

A few more twigs were thrown in the embers and with a gentle and slow breath they burst into flames.  A few more well positioned pieces of firewood and the flames flickered up to the top of the pot.  Jerry used the river water he had boiled the day before and filled the pot.  A packet of instant coffee, cream, and sugar provided the release of energy stored up through the night.

 

As he sipped on the coffee, nibbled on crackers spread over with a layer of peanut butter, the river, the surrounding woods remained at peace.  He figured winter would come soon enough and hide the precious serenity in a thick layer of solid ice.  But even then, having heard that the Iditarod Race, a race teaming man and dog against the cruel elements the frozen tundra inflicted upon the weak, would eventually bring back the presence of human activity.  Even in its frozen state, thought Jerry, the river still found a way to nurture life.

 

From morning until early evening Jerry lazily walked about the shore line in awe of the river’s beauty.  From time to time he would pick up a flat rock.  An examination of the surface evoked a wonderment, a thought that at one time it had began its journey as a large boulder, but over time, the river had taken it upon a journey to chip away, refine, shape, and polish its rough exterior to the smooth surface it had today.  In fact, he instantly knew, the very sand he was standing on was the remnants of such boulders from mighty mountains.

 

As the sunlight started to fade away, a chilly wind blowing down the river, Jerry smiled and understood.  The river, the nymph’s invitation to come out to life had come to an end.  A voice was whispering in the wind it was time to leave, time to return to the safe confines of the station.

 

All the generated trash was wrapped securely in a paper bag and packed away with everything else in the duffle bag.  The embers were drenched with water, but the lean-to was left in place.  Jerry put on the parka and walked down the river unafraid of what might have been lurking about.  For whatever reason, the sense that something, perhaps somone, even the river herself was with him clearing the path of all dangers.

 

The entrance to the road appeared.  It was a dark as dark could be.  Jerry pulled out a flashlight he had packed along and shined its light into the blackness.  The light illuminated the path between the tall trees guarding the path on either side.

 

As he emerged from the other end, the subdued lighting from the station was seen as a soft glow in the distance.  He turned around and stared down the blackness of the road, then looked up to the star-filled sky.

 

“Thanks.”

Imprint

Text: James Gerard Burch
Images: Right to use purchased from Tamas Zsebok-Fotolia.com
Editing: James Gerard Burch
Publication Date: 09-18-2015

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
Dedicated to those who can at times laugh in the presence of so-called dangers.