About Redemption Rock: A Short Story Pts. 1-5

Post 269:

Salvation Rock: A Short Story

Parts One Through Five                              

1.

            Caleb Crest swore under his breath when he saw the lights flashing in his rearview mirror. After pulling over, he rolled the window down and put his hands on the wheel.

            He moved his head to the left to catch a view of the side mirror. The cop was approaching with a casual gait, like they were the only two people in the world and time was a foreign concept. Caleb moved back to the center of his seat and took in some of the dry high desert air, trying to relax.

            “Afternoon son,” the officer said. “Pretty hot one out here.”

            “Yes sir,” Caleb said, keeping his hands on the wheel. He noticed that the cop’s hand was casually around his pistol holster. “Sorry if I was speeding.”

            “Not speeding. I was just wondering what you might be doing way out here. You the road less traveled type?”

            It seemed a weird question, but maybe not. He was in the middle of nowhere. Tumbleweeds and granite mountains flanked the two-lane road on both sides far off in the distance. “No, sir. I think I took a wrong turn. My phone GPS went dead a few miles back. Figured this would link up with another road eventually.”

            The officer put a weathered hand out and fiddled his fingers. “License and insurance.”

            Caleb had them ready to go. As he handed over his info he thought to ask what the problem was. Another look at the big gun on the cop’s hip made him think otherwise. They were the only two souls in a very isolated place. Better to let the one with the weapon ask the questions.

            “Those GPS’s. You never know. Nothing beats a good old-fashioned map.”

            “Hard to argue with your logic.”

            “Caleb Crest. Age twenty-seven, from Texas.” As he read off the info the officer leaned against the door, placing two sunburnt forearms on the bottom of the window frame. Caleb noticed his name. Jukes. Sheriff Jukes. “So you’re a wandering type?”

            “What’s that?”

            “You’re not from here, for one. Two, you got a bunch of gear in the back. And folks headin’ someplace specific usually turn around after a minute or two and get back on the main road. Out here, anyhow.”

            “Guess you got me, Sheriff.” He did. Caleb wasn’t going anywhere in particular. Just going.

            “Basic police work. Elementary, as it were.”

            Sure, Caleb thought. Regular Sherlock Holmes. Substitute the deerstalker for the cowboy hat, pipe for the spit tobacco, tea for the coff—

            “Follow me up ahead, soldier,” Jukes said, handing back the papers. There’s a little town up the way, but you’ll miss the turn if you’re not looking.”

            “Is that necessary?”

            “Well,” he continued, grabbing his belt, somehow friendly and condescending at the same time. “How much gas you got?”

            “Little less than half a tank.”

            “Yeah see that ain’t gonna work. Go back, you run out. Go till the major road, you run out. Unless this old boy gets over thirty miles to the gallon?”

            No way. Caleb’s 1987 SR5 4Runner was in near mint condition, but it wasn’t running that clean. He smiled at Jukes for a quick second and gave an obligatory smile. No big deal. Just going. “Lead on, Sheriff.”

            Jukes was just as casual making his way back to the police cruiser. “Don’t get down in the mouth, soldier,” he said, voice fading in the warm wind. “It’s a special day in town. You’ll love the place.”

2.

            Jukes was right. Caleb never would’ve spotted the turn into town. It was nothing more than a rocky farm road, marked by no signage but plenty of cacti and high weeds. He muttered out loud, checking the fuel gauge and the watch on his tanned left wrist.

            For two or three miles they drove on slow and steady over bumpy terrain, Caleb staying in the wake of Jukes’ dust at a fixed distance. He didn’t want to rile the lawman in any way, but it wasn’t out of fear. The younger man had nothing to hide, nothing for an overweening sheriff to use against him. He sat back and relaxed in his seat, shifting back and forth between second and third gears.

            He was almost in a state of reverie when he realized the ground beneath his truck had given way to concrete. They were descending a freshly-paved road on a fairly steep grade. The sparse landscape was quickly replaced by fecundity and color; fully-leaved trees and flowers lined the curbs on either side. Caleb’s head was on a swivel as the grade began to gradually flatten. He looked up and caught glimpse of a sign arching over the road that read, Town of Redemption Rock.

            Sheriff Jukes came to a stop just past the sign and waved Caleb to bring the SUV up alongside his cruiser. As Caleb reached over to roll down the passenger window, he heard Jukes yelling “follow me!” through the glass.

            They drove on through what seemed like the main drag of town. It presented perfectly. The medians were immaculately manicured, the buildings maintained with a punctiliousness Caleb had never seen. Only, there were no people. Or cars. The thought of a 50s era movie set flooded his brain as he parked the 4Runner at an angle next to Jukes’ cruiser. Stepping out he saw that it was the town’s municipal building.

            “Shouldn’t we be going to the gas station?” Caleb asked. “And where is everyone?”

            The sheriff opened the door and waved him in with the loose manner of an old friend. Being next to the man and on his feet, Caleb could see that Jukes was pudgier and shorter than he appeared on the road.

            The interior of the building was like everything else in the town. Spotless. The desks and chairs were positioned at right angles. Caleb felt like walking in anything but a straight line would be blasphemy.

            “Hi there,” said an excited female voice. It was enough to startle Caleb. She came out from behind a partition and extended a stiff and eager arm in his direction. “I’m Asriel. Mayor John’s daughter.” She was a pretty girl, but he’d hardly been given the time to notice.

            “I’m—”

            “Caleb Crest. We heard it on the radio. Me and my dad. We were just finishing up before going over when the sheriff called it in.”

            “Called it in?” He asked, unlocking hands with the girl to face Jukes. “Called me in for what?”

            The shorter man sank his hands into his hips and bellied up to Caleb. “Don’t give me any grief, soldier. Not ever. But especially not today.”

            The girl Asriel wormed her way between the two men, facing Jukes and using what little weight she had to push Caleb back. “You didn’t tell him?” she asked the lawman. “You said you told him. That you knew him.”

            A door slammed in the back of the building and another man, handsome and middle-aged, came charging toward them with firm steps. He stopped at a wooden thigh-high gate that separated the two halves of the building. He seemed to collect himself before talking. “Excuse me, Mr. Crest. I’m Mayor Patrick John.” The mayor was red-faced but attempting to hold it together—that was Caleb’s impression, anyhow. “I see you met Asriel. Would you mind staying here for a second while I talk to the sheriff?”

            “I’d rather just go, to be frank.”

            “Really,” the mayor said, clasping his hands together. “It’ll just take a second.”

            “Alright,” Caleb said, taking a seat at Asriel’s desk. They had no real right to ask, but he had no real reason to cause a stir. A little longer.

            The two town officials starting going at it as soon as the door to the mayor’s office closed. Asriel started asking him questions, taking a seat across her desk from him. She inquired after his background and the usual banalities, but he was too distracted. “What the hell has them so riled up?”

            “Could be anything with that pair. They’ve never gotten along.” She smiled a perfect smile, everything lined up perfectly and well-proportioned. Just like the town. She wore a skin-tight flannel button-down and had her dark brown hair pulled up. Caleb could now see that she was more woman than girl, but still young. He guessed twenty-two.

            “You about twenty-two?” he asked, just for the hell of it.

            “How’d you know?” she asked playfully.

            “Just lucky. Hey,” he said, shifting tones and leaning in. “Where’s everybody at? It’s kind of freaking me out.”

            The yelling in the back continued. “It’s the biggest day of the year,” turning somewhat cagey. “We thought you knew.”

            “Knew what?”

            She abandoned her forward posture and looked away. “Just wait for my dad. He’ll explain. The rock, what you have to do, everything. He’ll explain.”

            In a breath the girl had changed from bubbly to troubled. The suspicious vibe that Caleb had since getting pulled over was know riding up his backside, sending him into fight-or-flight. He stood up. “Whatever’s going on, it has nothing to do with me. I’m leaving.”

            Before he could make his first step away, the girl had what looked like a .357 cocked to the hair trigger and pointed in his direction. “You can’t leave.”

            “Why not,” he said, voice almost cracking.

            “The rock. If you leave, we’ll all die.”

            “You people are insane.” Caleb looked at her and the gun. It was too big in her hands. He’d faced bad men with dark intentions in more dangerous situations before. He wasn’t going to be held hostage by a little girl. “Goodbye.”

            Without hesitation, she shot the ground in front of his feet. Jukes and the mayor came rushing out. The smell of metal and gunpowder was everywhere. “What’s the matter with you?” Caleb yelled, ears ringing.

            “If you leave. We’ll all die.”

            “I don’t understand,” he said, eyes as wide as they could go.

            “Stay,” she said, standing up a whole new person, gun steadily trained at his chest. “It’s a special day in town. You’ll love the place.”

3.         “You know, there’s never been a murder.”

            “What?” Caleb asked.

            “Not in the recorded history of this town. Not even a robbery.”

            “Who the hell are you?” Caleb was in a small room with a low ceiling, staring at a teenage girl. Maybe fourteen. His eyes were still foggy.

She was leaning against the wall opposite him. “You were sleeping. I just came in.” The air was warm and smelled like fresh lacquer. It reminded him of a jail cell from an old western, without the bars. There was the hum of a decent sized crowd on the other side of the door, but he couldn’t make out what they were discussing. It didn’t sound like anything too pressing. He thought he made out the sound of a few laughs.

“Family meeting?” Caleb asked, nodding toward the door. His arms were tied behind his back and onto a thick oak chair. It was bolted to the ground. Despite his strength, the restraints offered little to no give.          

Three hours in town. He’d been led there under false pretenses and ushered into that room at end of a gun.

“They’re talking about you. Late arrivals are always a weird thing. We’re in Redemption Rock Town Hall.”

“That right?” Caleb asked. “They forgot to give me the dime tour when they led me in here.”

            “I’ll tell my father you were sleeping. That’s a good sign. A sign of courage.”

            “Maybe I was just tired. Who are you, kid?”

            “Priya. You met my sister and dad.”

            She could only mean the mayor and his lovely daughter, the one that almost took his foot off with pistol fire. “Yeah, your sister. A real piece of work. I’m starting to sound like a broken record—what is this place? Praya—was it?”

            “Priya. Sounds like see ya.” The girl smiled. She had a pleasant face but was still growing into herself. Her clothes hung off at awkward angles. “Don’t be mad at Asriel. She was just testing you. It’s important. You’ll see.”

            He was about to ask what she meant when the door burst open. Two large middle-aged men moved quickly to untie the ropes and pull him from the chair. He thought about fighting but didn’t know what he was dealing with in the main room. Blind violence didn’t seem the best tactic; not yet, anyway.

            To his left he saw what he assumed to be the entire population of Redemption Rock—around four hundred men, women and children. To his right was a slightly elevated stage. Five people were seated in a row, all wearing high-beam smiles. They varied in ages and genders, from a girl younger than Caleb to a man who looked to be nearing fifty. None of them were in restraints. Apparently he was the only one to be suffering under that privilege.

            As they yanked him onto the stage, he started to struggle with his feet. There were cheers and calls to get the show moving as they set him into a cafeteria chair marked Caleb Crest with red crayon on a white piece of paper. He looked to the man next to him. The oldest one on the stage, wearing a credulous face and a fresh flannel shirt. “Hey buddy,” Caleb whispered. “Seriously. What the shit?”

4.

            Caleb was awaiting an answer from the old man when an amplified voice fired off from behind. “Everyone sit. We need the line formed outside within the hour.”

            The men that hauled him to the stage walked off. Caleb shook out his hands and started to get up when he felt a hand on his leg. “Son, that’s not such a good idea.”

            “Everyone. Let’s quiet down and begin.” The voice again.

            “Buddy,” Caleb whispered. “If you want to stick around, be my guest. Enjoy—whatever the hell this is.”

            Before he could finish rebuffing Mr. Flannel, the lights suddenly came down and the doors slammed closed on each side of the large hall. The sudden silence was disorienting and planted him back onto the flimsy plastic of the chair. Two spotlights blasted the stage; one on the speaker, one on Caleb.

            A voice called out from the crowd, now completely cloaked in darkness, shouting He has no right to be here! He doesn’t belong!

            The hall started rumbling in front of Caleb, like a monster he was condemned to hear and not see. Several more cries of dissension went out, some cutting enough for him to understand. The skin went cold down his back and he began to sink his toes down into his boots, readying to make a run for it.

            “If you’re right, he’ll be put out. But let’s not act like the animals that we guard against!” Again, Caleb’s attempt at flight was stunted. He turned his head around to see Mayor John and his calm neighborly face behind the microphone. “We’re all aware of the dangers, but Sheriff Jukes believes this man could be a good addition.”

            Designed or not, the situation was starting to wear down the last of Caleb’s nerves. He couldn’t speak, despite being the topic of the entire conversation. What was there to say? Despite a history colored with violence and conflict, nothing could prepare him for this. The past was service. Sacrifice. It was never easy, but it always felt human. Not like this. The mayor’s words: not like the animals. That’s what he felt like—an animal—why the ability to speak and move in any intelligent manner had been wrested away. He held up his hands and prepared to yell back against the hisses and the imprecations of the crowd when he noticed something written on his palm.

            TO LIVE THE ANSWER IS YES

            It was only a second’s glance but he was sure what it said. Caleb wanted nothing more than to open his hand and stare at the words again, but he was on display, every inch of him under the scathing illumination of the spotlight. He sank inside himself while phrases like outside influences and alien presence were flung about the hall. His eyes were adjusting enough to see the others on stage. They seemed to be in clover about the fact that he was the big source of contention. Finally, the mayor broke in and interrupted the debate once more. “Should we vote?”

            A cheer went up and the lights came back on. Caleb rubbed his face and snuck another look at his hand to make sure hadn’t created a figment out of fatigue. Not so.

            TO LIVE THE ANSWER IS YES

            A measure of hope found its way to Caleb, but only for a moment. He realized that in the midst of the finger-wagging and esoteric debates, there was nothing to say yes to.

            And then one voice emerged above the fracas. “I’ll sponsor him!”

            The room fell silent. It was like magic. Caleb leaned forward in his little chair, trying to locate the speaker. She said it again, “I’ll vouch for him,” coming forward to the stage. It was her. The mayor’s daughter. Asriel John.

            In the front row, a burly man with a dark beard started to raise an argument, but he was cut down by the mayor himself. “That’s enough. The Redemption By-laws are clear and you all know it. “Caleb Crest touches the Rock tonight, if he agrees.”

            The young woman bit down on her lip and stood mere feet in front of him. She wore a stolid look of determination and crossed her arms. “Yes,” he said, turning back to Mayor John. “The answer is yes.”

5.         Instead of being thrust out of the meeting, Caleb was ushered through the doors, holding hands with Asriel. Her little thumb dug into his palm—for a minute he didn’t realize she was trying to rid his skin of the message. “I can wipe it—”

            “Just keep walking,” she said. “You have no idea what’s going on.”

            The pair fell into a line that was making its way down Main Street toward a little green knoll poking up from the middle of a roundabout. They stayed with the pace, about halfway back in a human train. Caleb looked down at the girl and couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know what’s going on? Say that’s understating the proceedings, lady.”

            “Just watch and do what everyone else is doing,” she whispered, looking first to Caleb and the people just behind them.

            “Why so quiet all of a sudden?” he asked, squeezing her hand a little harder than anyone would like. “Nobody seems to give a shit about us.”

            It was true. From back to front, the citizenry seemed to be somewhere else with their thoughts. He could see old men with their hands clasped, teenagers with hands raised to the clear sky. The whole lot of them were doing their own thing, with one exception. They all seemed to be saying something under their breath, over and over. Caleb felt like he was part of some version of a funeral procession, a ritual ripped from the pages of National Geographic. Something more foreign and solemn than even the military services he’d had to attend. A lot of life had been lived in his twenty-seven years, but no place ever made him feel so out of his skin. Fallujah, bereft of order, death around every hovel—he found himself longing for those days. It was eating at his brain, the idyllic streets, the perfectly normal aesthetic of the townspeople—all the setting for a thing outside his ability to understand.

            Just ahead of the roundabout, Asriel shook his hand. He realized they’d been walking silently for some time. “You need to start,” she said, again in a very low voice.

            “Start what?”

            “Say what everybody else is saying.”

            “And that is?”

            “Just repeat it. On this day I seek redemption for the past, the year that has come and gone. I seek redemption for the future, the year that lies ahead.”

            They crossed the street and began to ascend the gentle green hill. Caleb felt a child’s dread when he saw a tall gaunt woman standing by a gray boulder at the top of the hill. She wasn’t particularly awe-inducing or ominous. Different than that. Someone you might turn your gaze away from when strolling down the sidewalk. Her hair was a confused mixture of black and white, some of it falling out. Her dress was faded green, too big for the withered frame it adorned. Caleb realized it wasn’t the woman’s appearance that had him so discomposed; it was the reverence she was being shown. He watched as one person after another walked up to her and the boulder, heads down in abject servility.

            They were close now. Asriel implored him to say the words. “Okay,” he said, not knowing why he should or shouldn’t. As the mayor’s daughter moved close and bowed before the woman and the rock, one half of his brain waged a war with the other.

            Screw it. Punch the old bag and make a run for it.

            Don’t be an idiot. Do whatever the hell they want and buy yourself time.

            What is this crazy shit? It’s a cult. I’ve been abducted by a cult.

            Tell them what they want. When they break out the Kool-Aid, F off.

            “Come ahead, Caleb Crest,” the old woman said. Her voice was like an antique phonograph. She held out a hand and her bony fingers poked out the end of her dress sleeve. His firm steps became tentative and he found himself just like the others, on his knees. “Now say the words.”

            “On this day I seek redemption for the past, the year that has come and gone. I seek redemption for the future, the year that lies ahead.”

            Caleb’s head was down, but he could feel her over him, like a bowing branch of a dead tree. She whispered, “Touch the Rock and be Redeemed.”

            Like a trained animal, he put a flattened hand to the cool granite, leaning still from his knees. He looked up at her, his eyes asking, is something supposed to happen? Did it already happen?

            The seconds were hours. The young man was sweating underneath the pose of the old woman, ashamed, afraid, full of things he swore he’d never feel again. All the emotion brought on by sacrificing for God and country.  

            “Those things are gone,” she said, creaky and sure of herself. “They are no longer with you. Now go and live with us. Your calling is peace, here in Redemption.”

            Caleb lifted himself off the cold grass and walked down opposite side of the hill. Asriel was waiting for him at the bottom, the sun setting in the valley behind her. “You look dazed,” she said, taking his arm. He noticed the softness of her embrace, how nobody was handling him anymore. Just a bunch of beatific visions walking around a town in the middle of nowhere. “You look dazed,” Asriel said again, leading him down another perfect street.

            “There are no cars,” Caleb said, pulling her closer. He wasn’t ready to talk about what just occurred. Something simple was all he could muster. “No cars anywhere.”

            “Nobody goes anywhere. Why would they? Look at them.” They turned and faced the people coming down the hill, all with that same elevated expression.

            “What is this?” Caleb asked. His voice was dry and broken. He’d woken up in one world and now found himself in another.

            “I’ll tell you everything,” Asriel said. “And then you and me are going to get the hell out of here.”