JEEPERS

Jay had been right about Simon. He predicted that he would run. He knew he would get scared and run. And he knew that he would take it all harder than the rest of us.

I was the one he told everything to. I had that effect on people, even Jay. I think it was something about asking the right questions. It was like Jay would want to say something but not know how to start saying it. And then I would ask him something and it would be like: "oh, that reminds me..."

And so, he had been right about everything. We were sleeping in the orchard after working all day when they came for us, but we scattered. I was hiding in the shadows and I watched them take him. He went without an argument. I found Simon hiding in the cabin, under the cots. I said "they took Jay," but he was so nervous and he was having trouble breathing so I made him go out the back door and we ran back through the orchards taking the side road to town.

After they hung Jay we just left. We couldn't stay around the town because we knew they were looking for us so we hid in the hills. Then Simon made us take the pass down to the road and we walked south, me, Simon and the brothers.

*  *  *

The road was nothing but trees.  We encountered not a soul, animal, human or spirit, except for the bugs.  You could see them there in the air, swarming like.  It gave you a concern about taking a breath, seeing the gnats in the air above your head like that.  So you took the air in shallow, through your teeth, keeping your lips close together.  My nose was still broken and clogged from the fight in the market so it had to be through my mouth.

The worst part was the singing occasionally in your ear, the bug getting close enough to hear the whine and you swat it away or try to.  Walking all day in the heat and swatting at the bugs and that sudden singing in your ears—it was a disorienting day in the end.  Not surprising since we were wanted men now, and now that Jay was dead. 

*  *  *

We came to a lake with a narrow beach, and a boat.  We looked around and still there was no one and we were hungry and, you know, we’re all fisherman, or used to be, so the choice seemed obvious—and not that we wrestled all that much with it either way. 

Simon and I took to the boat and rowed out on the lake.  The brothers stayed behind and worked to build a fire.  The lake was calm, reflecting the trees and sky like a mirror, though our oars rippled the image.  A hundred feet out we threw the net.  Over and over it came back empty.  Simon sat down and stroked his beard.  I took some water from the lake and ran it through my dirty hair.  For the first time since Jay, Simon began to cry, quietly at first, but when his sobbing became too intense, I could tell he was embarrassed and so he slipped quietly over the side and into the water.  I knew enough about him to know that the water would be healing.  Down there, he’d be able to cry and scream if he wanted to.  His head popped up 20 yards away and just as quickly submerged again.  He needed time. 

I leaned back in the boat, hunkered down really, pulling at the knots in the net.  I could smell without looking the fire burning on the shore.  There’s not going to be anything to cook I thought, just as the smell of broiling fish tickled my nose.  I turned to look to the brothers and the fire and realized now there was a man with them, someone I didn’t recognize.  Simon climbed back into the boat and stared at the shore as well.  The man was looking back at us.  The brothers didn’t seem agitated.    Then he called out to us.

“Having any luck today, my friends?” 

After a pause I called to him that the fish seemed to have gone into hiding.

“Try the net on the other side—to starboard.”

Simon muttered something under his breath, impatient it seemed but I suspected something had changed and threw the net off the right side of the boat.  Within moments the water, calm before, teemed with life, fish leaping into the net.  Simon began to pull the net in, laughing now.  My suspicions were confirmed and this time it was me who went off the boat and began to swim towards shore. 

When I got there the man had his back to me and the brothers were arguing again, this time about who would go get more wood.  Simon was rowing to shore calling to me to help him with the fish. 

“There’s hundreds...” he was laughing again.  It was the first time I had heard him happy in days.

“John...” the man said, his back still to me, throwing another stick of wood in the fire.  A warm breeze gusted through me and I felt my clothing begin to dry.

“You know me,” he continued, his tone fixed in confidence and self-assurance, “come sit here next to me.  Peter will bring the fish.”

He used the name only one other had ever used for Simon.  I sat and he handed me a piece of bread he had warmed by the fire.  His face was a mystery to me.  I didn’t recognize his appearance, only I did know who he was. 

“Where have you been?”

“Yes, that’s an interesting question—of course leave it to you my brother.”

Simon stood over us now.

“John, there’s a hundred fish if there’s one.  We’ll eat like kings.  Good advice friend.”  He grabbed the man’s hand and shook it vigorously.  This was Simon’s specialty.  He could make a friend out of an enemy and put all strangers and wanderers alike at ease in an instant.  He was open.  He was like a net in the sea of the world—toss him to the tide and they will flock to him.  And so he was chosen well for the path he would walk. 

The man pulled him down and embraced him.  Simon recognized this, finally.  Even the brothers could see what it all meant.  Simon sat down hard on the rocky shore surprised at first but soon hanging his head, ashamed.  The man put an arm around his shoulder and turned again to me.

“The world is more like a dream to me than ever before.  I can’t remember what came before or what’s still yet to come.  It’s all mixed up, like everything is happening at once, all in an instant—all of it. 

“I can remember being alone in the dark.  And then walking along side you all, my brothers, though that feels like a long time ago, and some place far from this place.  But now I’m here with you, and I feel we must be here together forever.”

He laughed himself at this pulling Simon close, kissing his wet hair.  Then he made Simon face him grabbing his head in his hands.

“I know you love me Peter.  You will walk my road and walk it well.  I see it.  Eat with me now.”

I tore off a piece of the bread and gave it to the brothers.  The man shared his fish with Simon.  In the boat the fish came alive again in the net.  They thrashed and leaped for the water, most of them made it.  As the sun set the man’s face darkened even by the light of the fire.  Only his eyes pierced the darkness.  He continued to speak of places we had seen together as if remembering them only days later, though it had been...years now. 

As the night fell fully Simon stood and walked off into the woods.  The brothers fell asleep and I watched as the man slowly vanished right where he sat, staring at me the whole time.