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Chapter Twelve - Breaking Point

Louis was a lot of things. Distraught, confused, scared-- all of these emotions blending together to put the man into an utterly glum state.

In the days following his encounter with the two dragons he had gone from being calm and collective to a state of near paranoia. No longer was he able to whittle his chess pieces with the skill he had possessed, rather, his hand shook and caused his pawns to become disfigured mutants, his bishop's crosses to come out misshapen and twisted. Every day, every passing moment made the man wonder if the two were going to come prancing up to him, eager to converse. It worried him, not simply for his own well-being, but for them as well. The thought rattled around in the man's head as he glanced up at the shotgun that hung loosely from Mike's shoulder, it's black barrel bouncing ominously as the man walked ahead of him.

"Jesus, Mike, is that thing loaded?" Louis asked loudly, being able to bear the thought of being outright decapitated no longer.

Mike stopped, coming to what was normally just a small brook, but was now a rushing torrent after the heavy downpour the day before.

"Yeah, but man, I've handled guns since I was jus' a kid. Ya don't gotta worry, thing's on safety anyway." He took a step back, then hurdled the brook with ease, boots landing on the slick granite riverstone with barely more than a wobble. "Here," he said, holding his hand out, "hand the rods over"

Louis complied, gently passing the two maple branches that served as crude fishing rods to the man.

"Careful." Mike cautioned, "The rock's slip'rey as all fuck."

Louis nodded, then, following the man's motion, took a quick step forward and leapt. He landed on the rock beside Mike, but not with nearly as sure of footing as him. Flailing his arms, Louis felt his feet slide and his body begin to fall back, then a firm hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

"Like I said," Mike repeated, pushing his thick rimmed glasses up and scratching his beard, "the rocks are slippery."

"Yeah," Louis muttered, giving a nervous laugh, "Thanks. How the hell didn't you slip?"

Mike shrugged, stepping up the embankment to firmer ground. "My brother and I used to go fishin' an' swimmin' in the Pecos when we were kids, guess it jus' comes to ya naturally. By the way, where the 'ell did Collin go?"

"Said he was goin' up to pick berries or somethin'." Louis said distastefully, "Like, what the fuck good will that do?"

"Berries are food, better yet they have vitamins." Mike replied, continuing to walk in the general direction of the big river.

"Yeah, but we still have half a fucking deer left!"

The two men walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Hey Mike," Louis said after a time, "Whaddaya think is Collin's game?"

Again Mike shrugged, but said nothing.

"I mean, ya think he's really up there picking berries?"

"What are ya gettin' at?"

"What I'm gettin' at is that he might be back at camp right now, hidin' behind a tree with a gun."

"I don't think Collin would do something like that."

"Why?" Louis retorted, "Why shouldn't you suppose that 'e's not? Why should I suppose you ain't gonna flip that gun off safety an' kill me, or that I ain't gonna pull this revolver out and put a bullet in your head?"

"How do I know?" Mike muttered, "I know you ain't cause you don't wanna kill anyone again, I seen it in your eyes. You ain't like Collin, you ain't a murderer. I ain't gonna turn 'round and shoot ya cause I don't want the money that bad, cause it ain't for me. Collin ain't gonna kill us because he don't kill friends, cause if he did he woulda done it already."

"Christ, what are you, some kinda psychic or somethin'?"

"No," said the man, "Jus' observant."

Again the men walked in silence for some time.

"What 'cha mean the money ain't for you?" Louis finally grumbled.

"The money's for my brother." He murmured after a pause, "My dad's got that disease-- the one the queers get, guess it ain't jus' them anymore. Doctors say he ain't gonna live, cause none of 'em do once they get it. They don't got no cure, and there ain't ever gonna be no cure, but I honestly don't care about him. Once he dies, though, my brother 'ill go to foster. Imma use the money to buy him a plane ticket out here and to pay for his college fees." Mike kicked a stone casually and watched it tumble down the steep slope, the bottom of which he could see opened up and became the stony bank of the river.

The two men half-walked, half-stumbled down the escarpment, eventually breaking out into the bright sunlight. The river was swollen and gorged on the run-off from the storm. It was remarkable to Louis, who was used to the slow, inanimate Hudson that he had seen on an almost daily basis growing up in New York. This river, a churning, roaring serpent that carved its way through the granite, struck an unknown fear into the man. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was a fear akin to that of when he was but a young child, hearing his mother's vacuum cleaner roar about like some monster. The vacuum, as he remembered it, was tremendously loud, though he knew now that it was nothing more than a whirr. The river, his mind told him, was nothing more than churning rapids, but there seemed to be something much more sinister behind it.

It's interesting to think that, many thousands of years prior, two ape-men stood on the banks of the Nile, just upstream of Victoria falls. Digging through the mud for food, one thought that he saw a dead fish float past, and decided he would go after it. His fellow clansman watched as he was pulled away by the water and carried over the falls. The ape-man who stood on the shore stared for some time, then turned and walked back in the direction of the rest of his clan, mind ingraining a single thought that told him to always fear the great river. He would return to his cave and tell stories around the fire of how his fishing partner had been taken by the great river spirit, and how they too should fear the river as he did. Now, in the year 1974 after the death of Christ, two men stood upon the bank of a swollen river, one of which feeling a fear that might well had started on the Serengeti two-hundred thousand years ago.

Louis squinted in the bright sunlight, then produced a pair of sunglasses from his breast pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose casually. Mike, having none, simply pulled the bill of his baseball cap lower. He sat down on a large boulder that barely poked it's head out of the churning water, the spray of the water bringing a pleasurable cooling sensation in the near intolerable heat, and cast out his line.

Louis remained standing, gazing up at the vast range of mountains that seemed to stretch ad infinitum across the azure sky. The sun had nearly reached it's zenith.

"Eh Lou, what the fuck has been eatin' away at you?" Mike spoke suddenly, nearly having to shout over the river's loud prattle.

"What?" Louis replied, both out of mis-understanding and not being able to hear the man over the river.

"Somethin' has gotten to you. You ain't been actin' the same lately. What the fuck happened?"

Louis scratched his chin in thought momentarily. Mike was somewhat of a mystery, and whether or not he could trust the man remained so. The worst he can do is tell Collin, and he'll probably find out soon enough already...

Coming to his decision, he kicked the dirt then looked over at Mike. "I'm gonna tell you something, you might think I'm crazy when I do, but I swear on my mothers grave man, this shit's real."