Valley of the Shadow

By Daniel Lance Wright

Avid naturalist, hunter and birder, Mr. Gerety has constructed a tale of two people who meet briefly then are reunited after death in a place and time other than the one they have always known. In this unfamiliar and pristine environment, his characters find each other, leaving behind their years of professional education and training as well as a lifetime of modern urban assumptions to assume lives of hunters, nomads, lovers and parents in a world emptied of all other people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
• Release date: Jul 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781624202520

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VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

T. H. Gerety

Published by Rogue Phoenix Press for Smashwords

Copyright © 2015

ISBN: 978-1-62420-252-0

Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix Press, all other rights reserved by the author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People, locations, and business establishments even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Prologue

A Golden Eagle floating on the crest of a thermal saw nothing of interest. It was late September in the high desert country of eastern Oregon. On the eastern periphery of its vision there was a column of dust rising into the air. The eagle knew the passage of anything large enough to raise that amount of dust could also disturb small game. He drifted in that direction.

It was an old Jeep, vintage WWII, tracking along the ridge in a southwest direction. The driver had no specific destination in mind. He was just looking, enjoying the solitude and the grandeur of the scene, sage and spruce with broken ridges of red rock in the distance.

Another person had traveled the same ridge several years earlier, but for a different reason. He was a Korean veteran. He had smuggled a Chinese land mine home as a souvenir. He and his buddies had enjoyed playing games with it at parties. They managed to frighten the young ladies. They would talk about the explosive power of the mine then play games with it, pretending to drop it and tossing it back and forth while the girls screamed in terror. All of this had come to an abrupt and complete stop when he married. His wife had laid down the law in no uncertain terms. The mine had to go. He was perfectly willing, but it was not the kind of thing you could drop into the garbage, or bury in the backyard, or hide in the basement.

He loaded the mine into his pickup, drove out into a remote area and buried it. He returned home with a clear conscience. During the years it had lain there, wind and water had eroded the covering until it was right next to the surface. The driver made his way along the ridge in a haphazard manner, pausing now and then to pull out his binoculars and glass the area. A golden eagle glided above, making his own survey. As the jeep was passing just to the right of the mine, the driver made a left turn. The left front wheel just cleared, but the left rear wheel, following a shallower curve, rode directly over it. The explosion flipped the jeep onto its back, ruptured the gas tank, and ignited the fuel that spilled out, causing a secondary explosion. The driver was thrown out, landed face down with his shirt burning on his back.

At this point the eagle lost interest and decided to hunt elsewhere. As he drifted away on the wind, he saw a rabbit hop away from a bush near the fire. The eagle circled, hovered, folded his wings and began his stoop. Seconds later he flew away with his meal. The fire burned down. Black smoke from the tires and oil rose into the air. Far above, the pilot of an eastbound airliner had noticed the flash of the explosions, the fire and the smoke. He called in and reported what he'd seen to the State Police in Bend.

Book I

Chapter One

Over the mountains of the moon

Down the valley of the shadow,

Ride boldly ride,

The shade replied,

If you seek for Eldorado.

Edgar Allan Poe

The light grew dimmer and drifted away. He concentrated, forcing the light to become stationary as he moved toward it. Suddenly, he was face down on the hot sand. He could feel the grit of it in his teeth His throat and mouth were dry, and his back felt as if it was on fire.

He rolled onto his left side, trying to see his back. All he could see was his right shoulder, and the part that was visible was badly burned. He looked up at the sun and it appeared to be larger and brighter, the heat intense. His shirt was scorched across the top of his shoulder and was missing from his back. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. His tongue swollen and dry rasped across his lips and gave him no relief. Working onto his knees, he looked around. He was kneeling on top of a sand hill. The sun was slightly behind him, appearing to have passed its zenith. He decided the direction he was facing was east. Looking in that direction, there was nothing but rolling sand hills. North and south, more of the same. He struggled to his feet and looked west. This was slightly better. The dessert continued but in the distance, gradually changing with broken ridges and on the horizon a rugged mountain range. The ridges appeared to have some vegetation.

Standing in the desert sand lonely and confused he could see very little to feel good about. There was no sign to show how he had come to be there. He had landed in this deserted spot with nothing but the clothes he was wearing and some of his hunting gear. His shirt was burned backless, long pants, boots, a belt knife and an old timer's pocketknife. His binoculars were still hanging around his neck. His bow, a quiver with ten arrows and a canteen had been thrown by the explosion and lay undamaged below in a shallow depression. He was hoping for a full canteen. In one pocket he also found a small plastic bottle filled with matches. Slipping and sliding he moved into the hollow. He picked up the canteen first and discovered that it was slightly over half full. He tipped it up and took a mouthful, swished it around in his mouth and swallowed. It was difficult to resist draining it dry. Gathering the rest of his equipment, he climbed out of the hollow, took one more look around, decided he hadn't missed anything and began his walk toward the mountains.

He estimated the distance to the ridges to be about twelve miles. Normal walking, he could easily manage one mile in twenty minutes. He discovered that this would not be the case. The sand was loose and his feet sank into it, restricting his stride and increasing the effort. Looking at the position of the sun, he realized that he would be lucky to make it to those ridges before sunset. He wasn't too lucid, and he was afraid that he might lose his bow or his quiver of ten arrows so he attached them to his belt, along with his canteen. The quiver had a pocket that contained extra arrowheads and blades. He kept his binoculars around his neck.

When he stopped, he guessed he had traveled four, maybe five miles, but the distance to the ridges seemed the same. The sun had passed the apex and was now ahead of him slightly above the mountains. He had put his shirt on backwards, hoping to protect his back from the sun. He had also left the sleeves rolled down, cuffs unbuttoned and shirttail loose. The terrain was essentially the same, but the sand was packed and easier to walk on. There was, however, nothing that provided shade.

Later he realized that he could see something in the distance; a tall slender silhouette that appeared to be of a dark green color. It was in the direction he was moving, so he concentrated on moving toward it. When he finally arrived, it appeared to be some form of cactus. It was better than six feet tall, spineless with two arms extending out and up, the arms approximately four to five inches in diameter. He recalled that cactus had the ability to store water and decided it would definitely be worth his time to test this theory. Circumscribing the lower limb with his belt knife, he managed to break it off. He laid his shirt on the ground and scraped the inside pulp from the cactus arm onto his shirt. At the bottom of the arm, some liquid had collected. Raising the gourd up, he drank it. The taste was bitter and it had a numbing effect in his mouth. He squeezed the pulp, caught the liquid in the gourd and spread the residue on his shirt and pressed it down tightly. When he put the shirt back on, there was stinging sensation then his back felt cooler and slightly numb. He cut a hole in the gourd near the rim and noticed more liquid at the bottom, and he spread this onto his face and hands. After securing the gourd to his belt with his handkerchief and checking his other gear, he resumed his walk toward the ridges, feeling a sense of urgency and hoping to find some shelter before dark.

The terrain had changed without his noticing, becoming hard packed with rocks protruding from the surface. In this form they extended out into the sand like fingers. Toward the mountains, the fingers became broader and higher with large rocks lying in scattered profusion. In a few places withered grass lay parched against the dry earth. Ahead he could see the edge of a gully that crossed in front of him, meandering generally from north to south. He descended to the bottom of the draw, suddenly feeling weak, the breeze blowing against him chilling him to the bone. At the far side of the draw, there were two large rocks, slab and oval shaped leaning against each other forming a crude shelter. This will have do, he thought as he crawled in, removed his gear from his belt, placed it in the back, laid down and fell into an exhausted sleep.

~ * ~

Bend Memorial, ambulance eight here, over.

Bend Memorial, over

Have a burn victim involved in an explosion, second and third degree burns, mostly on the back. Treating him for dehydration and shock with a saline drip. Vital signs-BP one hundred over eighty, temp. eighty-five, pulse-irregular-and rapid. Name Michael Sean Murphy. ETA Bend Memorial l340, out.

Dr. Carlson moved to the receiving desk. "Miss Davis, have the hyperbaric chamber ready for a burn victim. I'll want Val and Clark there. 1340 hrs.

I'll see to it right away Doctor.

He slept, not restfully but continuously. His sleep was interspersed with dreams. There were bright lights, people in green smocks wearing masks continuously disturbing, manipulating and examining him. He felt cold at the edge of consciousness then hot. He perspired and he could feel the perspiration running off him. It seemed to increase until he could hear it in his head. Mixed in with the white faces, there was one face that dominated the others. Darker than the rest, but it was the eyes that drew him. They were brown and intense, touching his mind. He could feel the interest and the compassion and he felt safe. He would remember the eyes. Finally nothing, no people, no lights, just a spinning grayness leaving him disembodied spiraling away into the vortex of black and gray until he reached the point where all pains and discomforts faded, and he rested.

~ * ~

Light entered his cave, crept across the ground, clasped hands with him, then slid on to brush his face, his eyes and invade his brain. He was awake but not pleased with the result; a repeat of yesterday, face in the dirt, cotton dry mouth and thirsty. Without thinking, he licked his lips. He remembered the last time, and the results were just the same. He reached for his canteen, feeling its lightness. He took a mouthful; it had a distinct metallic flavor. As he swallowed, he remembered the gourd. There was about a half cup. He drank this and experienced the same sting and numbing feeling. This euphoric feeling spread throughout his system and left him on a pleasant high.

Mike crawled out of his shelter and as he climbed to his feet, he saw the track. There was one. It was cloven, large and splayed. It had to be some type of bovine, a really large one and not something he wanted to run into at this time. He looked around for other tracks but didn't see any. The bottom of the gully was clean of debris, nothing left but coarse sand and rocks, typical detritus of a flash flood. Moving back into the cave and retrieving his equipment, he felt better. He was hungry and thirsty, but excluding the stiffness of his muscles, ready to face the day.

There was definite evidence of both food and water, although the water had at least temporarily dried up, and he was sure he didn't want to meet the animal that had made that track, at least not today. He restrung his bow, nocked an arrow then hung the rest of his possessions on his belt and started up the arroyo. The direction it followed was erratic but generally toward the still distant mountains. As he moved along, the shape of the gully gradually changed, the sides flattened out and the surface became less sandy. Then ahead of him on the left side of his peripheral vision something moved, small and gray in color, and it blended into the background. Without the movement, he wouldn't have seen it. When he began to hunt, he had nocked on a broad head, now he changed to a blunt. Moving forward very carefully, he watched for color, shape or movement, twice seeing it just as it slipped out of sight then it