The Glacier (6 page)

***

Jonah moves quietly through the trees, deeper into the woods. He counts out paces and finds his next point. He shoves the surveyor's rod into the ground and jockeys with the radio.

JONAH

You got me?

GUNNER

(on the radio)

Hang on. Wave it around a little.

Jonah waves the surveyor's rod slowly back and forth.

GUNNER

(on the radio)

All right, got it. Let's shoot it.

He holds the rod steady.

GUNNER

(on the radio)

Shooting. All right. Got the shot. Coming to you.

Jonah releases the rod and waits. He has another look at the forest. Bare branches compose themselves in black fractal patterns against the sky. Roots crawl across the tapestry of earth and fallen leaves. Micro-canyons of bark and crisscrossed timbers. Evergreen needles.

He spies a pinecone lying on the ground. He picks it up and examines it. It's a nice one. Big and full and complete. He turns it in his fingers, admiring the perfectly irregular radial symmetry.

Suddenly the pinecone releases an electrical charge, shocking him, and he drops it.

***

The fluorescent lights of the Convention Center flicker on and off over Simone's head in the small industrial room. She looks up from her salt and pepper shakers.

***

Baffled, Jonah watches the pinecone lying inertly on the ground.

He picks it up again. The pinecone comes alive, pulsating with electric-blue light, like a bug-zapper. Now it has him with its current and he can't let go. He reaches out with his other hand and grabs the metal surveyor's rod stuck in the ground.

The entire forest around him comes alive, exploding with electric-blue light. Tendrils of electricity arc across roots in the ground, spiralling up the trunks of trees and then crowning. The current jumps from tree to tree until the entire canopy of branches is humming, buzzing, and crackling with radiant blue light.

***

BZZZT— The lights go out completely and Simone is in the dark.

***

Gunner and Sue are tromping through the undergrowth, dodging brown branches and briars. Sue is marking trees with a can of orange spray paint.

SUE

Gunner, listen. I know this has been a hard time for you. I want you to know that I am truly sorry about the farm. I know how much of a blow it was and I know it isn't any easier considering the nature of the work we've been doing.

TSSSST. He marks another tree with paint.

SUE

But we've got good jobs. We get to work outside, not in some sterile office. That's who we are. We're outside dogs. And I think it's kind of exciting. We're out here on the frontier, cutting trail. We're drawing the map and I think that's kind of neat—

Gunner stops abruptly and Sue crashes into him.

SUE

Whoa! Sorry…

Gunner holds up his hand to silence Sue.

SUE

What's the matter?

GUNNER

Quiet.

SUE

(whispering)

What? What is it?

GUNNER

Do you hear something?

Sue listens.

SUE

No.

GUNNER

Do you smell anything?

SUE

Like what?

GUNNER

Some funny smell.

Sue smells, delicately probing the air with his nostrils.

SUE

I don't think so.

GUNNER

Well do you or don't you?

SUE

Well, I don't know! What kind of smell is it?

GUNNER

Something burning. It smells like something's burning.

Gunner moves on and Sue follows on after him.

***

Jonah stands at the center of the brilliant blue spectacle with one hand on the surveyor's rod and his other hand unable to release the pinecone. He quivers and shakes, conducting the massive electric current as it contracts his muscles, fries his nerves, and lights up the entire woods.

By the time Gunner and Sue arrive at Jonah, he's standing in a funny position with the surveyor's rod in one hand and a pinecone in the other. His eyes are rolled back up in his head. Otherwise, the forest around them is calm and normal. They watch him for a moment and exchange glances with each other.

GUNNER

What are you doing?

Jonah drops the pinecone.

From Jonah's perspective, the network of electric blue current evaporates from the forest. He snaps out of it, startled and dazed.

JONAH

Oh— Wow. What?

GUNNER

What were you doing?

JONAH

Um. Nothing. I mean— Just having a look around.

GUNNER

Huh.

SUE

Well let's keep moving.

JONAH

Yeah. Yeah, let's keep moving.

Jonah grabs his surveyor's rod and takes off into the trees.

Sue watches after him, dubiously, and Gunner examines the pinecone.

***

The fluorescent lights come back on in the salt and pepper room. Simone is standing at her cart of salt shakers. She looks up at the long bulbs.

She steps out into the hallway and looks in both directions. The long pink corridor is empty. A fluorescent light flickers way down at the end of the hallway.

She steps back into the room and returns to her work at the salt and pepper station.

MR. STEVENS

How we doing down here?

Simone nearly jumps out of her skin. Mr. Stevens is standing in the doorway. He holds a lit cigarette at his side.

SIMONE

Omigod you scared me. The lights went out.

MR. STEVENS

Yes, there seems to be some problem with the power.

SIMONE

Yeah… Um, how many of these are we going to need?

MR. STEVENS

I imagine we better hit all of them, just to be on the safe side.

SIMONE

Oh. Okay.

MR. STEVENS

Super. Thanks again. I know this isn't glamorous work.

SIMONE

Uh huh. Hey I was also getting a little curious.

MR. STEVENS

About what?

SIMONE

How long is it that we've been here?

MR. STEVENS

How do you mean?

SIMONE

How long have we— I'm sorry. I mean, today.

How long have I been working here. Today.

Stevens draws a blank on her.

MR. STEVENS

You know the rule, Simone.

SIMONE

Yes, I know, but where is everyone? Else.

MR. STEVENS

I'm not quite sure what you're getting at with this line of questioning.

SIMONE

Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?

MR. STEVENS

I'd be delighted.

SIMONE

Do you have children?

MR. STEVENS

Of course not. We're all going to die. After all.

They stare at each other poker-faced and Mr. Stevens takes a drag off his cigarette. The radio in the salt and pepper room snows between stations.

SIMONE

Okay, well, actually I was wondering if I might be able to take a short break today.

MR. STEVENS

You bet. Whatever you need to do.

Mr. Stevens abruptly checks his watch, causing Simone to jump again—

MR. STEVENS

Well. Gotta run. Just hit as many of these as you can. Thanks again.

Simone catches her breath.

***

The three surveyors are moving steadily through the quiet afternoon trees.

Gunner and Sue are tromping as a pair. Gunner hauls the tripod slung over his shoulder. Sue carries his clipboard and can of spray paint, occasionally pausing to mark significant trees.

Jonah hikes out ahead of them, moving through the bare winter forest, nimbly pushing branches aside, ducking and weaving slowly through the brush.

Patches of snow here and there. Chickadees chattering and blue jays caterwauling.

***

Robert is raking dead cardinals into a large red pile in the center of his front lawn. He claws at the grass with a leaf rake. He stops to wipe his brow and scans the neighborhood to see if anyone has noticed the odd manner of yard work.

The neighborhood is entirely empty and Robert is alone with his large pile of dead red birds.

***

Jonah is standing in a small clearing in the trees. Before him lies a large mound of earth about waist high, rounded smooth and covered with healthy green grass.

Light shines through the sparse canopy, illuminating the mound of bright green grass, out of season amid the drab surroundings.

Gunner and Sue emerge from the trees behind Jonah and stand next to him at the odd land-feature. Gunner observes the mound for a moment and then takes off his hat in a gesture of solemnity.

Somehow taking the cue, Sue speaks in a quiet voice.

SUE

What is it?

GUNNER

Indians.

SUE

(momentarily fascinated)

Oh—

Sue hesitates, unsure how to proceed, shifting back and forth uneasily. Jonah looks up at the light coming through the trees while Gunner is fixated on the green mound.

Then Sue takes the cap off his can of spray paint. He shakes the can, steps forward and quickly marks the mound of earth with an orange X.

TSSSST— TSSSST.

Jonah and Gunner both shoot him an incredulous look.

SUE

(defensively)

What?

Spooked by his irreverence, the men look superstitiously back down at the Indian burial mound.

***

Samson rolls through a sector of new streets on the fringes of the housing development. A construction zone of exposed foundations, housing frames, and dirt yards.

Cruising slowly, looking for signs of life, Sam spies a small ghost standing inside one of the open skeletal houses—literally, it is a young child wearing a white sheet with cut-out eye-holes gazing back at him. Then he sees another child, climbing up from an open basement. Another dropping down from some rafters. Another, running between two houses. And another, crossing the street in his rearview mirror. The children look quite young to be playing in a construction site.

But there are children everywhere! Coming out of the woodwork like rats.

A boy wearing a homemade superhero cape runs out ahead of Samson's truck. He sprints around a corner, his cape flying behind him, screaming a high-pitched alarm at the top of his lungs.

SUPER BOY

Ahhhh!!! He's coming!!!

Samson slowly follows the child around the corner. Little kids line up on the street curb, clapping and cheering.

At the end of the street a cul-de-sac reaches out into a field. The circular dead-end is filled with children coloring on the pavement with street chalk. Outfitted in winter gear—snowsuits, mismatched layers, and a hodgepodge of ragtag accessories—the kids are down on the pavement covering the street with colored chalk. Their little hands are moving furiously, gripping the large pieces of chalk in their fists, around and around, the sound of circling chalk creating a swooping, sweeping rhythm.

Samson pulls into a driveway, jumps out of his truck, and announces gloriously—

SAMSON

HOT CHOCOLATE!!!

The children cheer and surround him like a pack of wild dogs. Sam sets out a self-service thermos and some white Styrofoam cups. Then he wades through the children and walks across the cul-de-sac toward a house.

The skeleton frame of a house sits at the end of the street. The dirt lawn is filled with furniture. A couch, a recliner, coffee table, lamp, television. A family of contemporary Native Americans is bundled up and gathered in the front yard, watching TV

Samson steps over the curb and up onto the dirt lawn.

An ancient woman relaxes in the easy chair in front of the television. She smokes a gentleman's pipe and when she sees Samson she regards him and motions to a small boy who takes off running into the house. Then she looks up into Samson's mirrored shades, gestures at him with her pipe, and speaks to him in Wyandot, an Iroquoian language.

A younger man in the family translates for Samson.

WYANDOT TRANSLATOR

She says that the Devil is a curious crow, and crafty too. Since he could not be God, he became God's mirror, and now we are not so sure who is who.

The boy emerges from the frame house and crosses the yard, struggling to carry a pair of gallon milk jugs. The jugs are filled with a bright Tang-orange liquid.

WYANDOT TRANSLATOR

But really it is easy. When we make a deal with the Devil, we go to the Devil's paradise. And the Devil is the only one who makes deals.

The boy places the jugs at Samson's feet. Sam pulls an envelope of cash out of his coat pocket and hands it to the translator who tucks it inside the blanket draped over his shoulders.

The old woman thanks Samson, smokes her pipe, and smiles.

WYANDOT TRANSLATOR

She says that the Big Scioto is frozen, but it's a good day for ice-fishing!

Out in the street, a child is scribbling furiously and methodically with chalk on the concrete. Around and around his chalk goes… Beyond him, many more children are scribbling in circles. The sound of chalk circling on the concrete creates an overwhelming rhythmic, circling, scraping sound.

The entire street is ringed with children, drawing circles.

Pulling back and looking down on the cul-de-sac: incredibly, the children have filled the entire cul-de-sac with colored chalk, creating a circle-based drawing. Smaller dots form bigger dots, which in turn form large circles. Hundreds of concentric circles resonate harmonically like colored raindrops on a concrete pond.

The drawing resembles a giant aboriginal painting.

Pulling back even farther and ascending above the neighborhood, the street drawing continues. Unconsciously, the children have created an image as the result of their collective circular scribbling: a long green snake slithers down the street and into the neighborhood…

In the cul-de-sac, the snake's mouth opens around an orb of colored dots and circles as if it is consuming an Easter egg.

Ascending higher, the neighborhood is only a piece of a greater patchwork, a quilt of fields and suburban clusters. Ohio. The Great Lakes, and the Eastern Seaboard arcing across the turning planet. The Northern Hemisphere. Planet Earth hangs in the vacuum of black space. And the Sun, radiating fission, solar flares, swirling gaseous hurricanes, and light.