Darkness upon the Land
Chapter 10

Sunday night wasn’t as chilly as Sunday morning had been, but Alexia couldn’t avoid noticing the northern lights had returned, even though they weren’t quite as spectacular. Monday morning got off at a better start because they had a campfire and tea and shared a fish Reuben risked leaving on the stringer last night. With the breeze subsided and the dawn bright and clear, she had hopes of making up the mileage they’d lost over the last couple of days.

But when they got off the logging road and back onto highway that was scattered with cars and houses, Reuben’s paranoia picked back up. Now that they were between tracts of swamps, he wanted to stick to the back country. They could avoid the four-lane that would take them to the interstate they had to cross before taking the road that would lead them to Esperanza. She was perturbed partly because this flew in the face of his original strategy of taking the shortest routes. It also meant it would take them longer to reach their destination.

But his argument prevailed as usual, and they hiked through the less populous areas. She at least learned his “trick” for keeping his bearings as they traversed through countryside. He would choose a landmark, and as they approached it he would line up another feature farther away while keeping the location of the road in mind. Occupying herself with helping him keep track seemed to work as a mood enhancer.

Before they reached the interstate, however, he decided to pitch camp a little earlier than usual.

“What?” Alexia couldn’t believe what he said. “We could get there tonight if we keep going.”

He shook his head. “We wouldn’t get there until well after dark. It’s too dangerous to be out after dark.”

“We could go at least as far as Esperanza. We could bunk out at the church, I’m sure.”

Reuben frowned. “No. We need to stay out of town.”

“It’ll be safe at the church.”

“Not necessarily. The churches would be logical refugee attractions, and their resources may be taxed enough as it is.”

She stared at him. “Refugee?”

“People from off the interstate.”

She waved her arm toward that highway. “There are all kinds of towns on the interstate. That’s where people who got stranded will go.”

“Not all of them. Some will be turned away, and some will head to places off the interstate just because they figure they’ll have better luck in a less populated area. And because of the way Louisiana’s built down here, there aren’t a lot of little towns available on the few byways, so they’ll get hit hard just as much.”

“Well, most of those refugees are going to be just regular people. You and I could actually be helpful at the church, so we wouldn’t just be using up resources.”

“I’m not gonna get you this far only to have something happen just miles from your doorstep.”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Something could happen here. There’s really no difference between the two.”

“I don’t have to worry about disease here.”

She stared at him. “So that’s it? Everybody’s riddled with disease again?”

“You group a bunch of people together with no running water and little sanitation, you get disease. I don’t want to expose either one of us. I want to get home, too, you know.”

His last statement tweaked at her conscience. She had been so focused on getting back to her own kitchen and bedroom that she’d lost sight of the fact Reuben still had several weeks, maybe months, of traveling ahead of him. And by bringing her down here, his trip was now even longer.

She decided that if he could delay his journey one more day, so could she.

The aurora borealis could barely be seen by the time they turned in for the night, and the next morning dawned as clear and bright as yesterday’s. When they came to the interstate, Alexia was surprised to see around half a dozen travelers walking in both directions through the scattered cars. She supposed they were like her and Reuben, trying to reach a destination that was only a few days away.

The two-lane highway that led to Esperanza was mostly deserted. Much of the land near the road had been drained for farming since the last century, and sugar cane grew in rows almost as far as one could see. They passed only two deserted cars before coming close enough to the outskirts of town where he insisted they veer off the road again. As they circled around, their progress was slowed until they passed the town and returned to the road. After four more miles of walking on the highway, they reached the private road that led to her home.

There was still sugar cane on the west side of the two-lane, but the gravel road that stretched to the east was laid on pasture and forest. After they walked for another mile, Alexia and Reuben crossed over the dike that separated the native ecology from the “improved” land.

The road was still gravel, but natural fill and other rock had been hauled in long ago to build it above the water level of the marsh. Within another half mile of travel the grasses gave way to clumps of small trees that soon merged into larger trees. Another mile into the swamp, the road turned to the right and up an approximately two-acre hummock, which some people might have called a low hill but Reuben claimed was really a “hump.” Here they would finally come within sight of the homestead.

But when they reached the beginning of the curve, he abruptly halted.

“What’s this?” There was a gruff edge to his voice.

“What?” She turned toward him as she slowed but didn’t stop.

“That.” He pointed at a darkened spot on the gravel she had just reached.

She stopped to look at it. Actually, there was more than one spot. Several dark red splatters of various sizes stained the mostly white gravel.

“Looks like blood.” Her heart began to pound a little. “Maybe Mѐre shot something.”

Or somebody.

“Maybe.” He looked ahead, but they couldn’t see the house and outbuildings yet. “Where’s Henry?”

Henry was their liver-spotted Brittany, as much or more a pet as he was her stepfather’s bird dog. “Probably asleep under the porch.” She tried to tell herself Reuben was overreacting.

“Probably,” he murmured as he drew the slingshot and palmed some pellets in that single motion he did so often. “Let’s proceed to the house slowly and quietly. And this time, I’ll go first.”

He was making her just nervous enough that she didn’t argue. As she followed him up the road, she told herself his paranoia was merely peaking. He did have a schizophrenic grandmother, so maybe he was prone to a little wild imagination. It didn’t help at all that occasional drops of blood led to their destination.

Although her stepfather bought this place as a retreat for hunting and fishing over twenty years ago, it had originally been an actual Cajun homestead. Her mom had preserved the historic integrity of the place, so the house and three outbuildings all retained an antiquated look seldom seen anymore beyond museums and preserves. The canary yellow house with its forest green shutters and white columns was perched at the top of the hummock. The traditional stairway on the galerie that appeared to lead into the overhanging roof was actually in a non-traditional L-shape, because Mѐre believed it was more elegant and practical than the straighter, steeper design.

As they neared the steps of the galerie, Reuben hesitated for a few seconds and seemed to listen. Finally they ascended. Two doors faced them. The one to the right, closer to the Cajun stairway, was closed with batten shutters because it led into her parents’ bedroom. The shutters on the entry door to the left were open and framed the red storm door.

Another drop of blood stained the surface of the galerie just in front of the door.

He stepped to one side of that door and nodded for Alexia to open it.

She pulled open the storm door and he pushed his way past the interior door, which was ajar.

Next she followed him into the living room. Plenty of sunlight streamed in through the windows and she saw two more drops of blood lead to the dining room doorway.

Mѐre would not be so careless. Her heart began to thump even harder as she deposited her duffel bag on the chair beside the door. Without wondering if Reuben had any alternative plan, she strode toward the dining room and was vaguely aware he set the gear bag on the floor before he followed her.

When she entered the dining room, the scene before her caused her to screech “Mѐre!” At the same instant she felt Reuben tackle her as the chairs in the room rattled.

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