Remeon's Quest Read online

  They had debated long hours on many subjects, one of them being religion. Jack was raised Presbyterian. Sam, Baptist, although he hadn’t been deeply religious before his tour in WWI. But after the horrors he had witnessed, then coming out alive, Sam had sworn it could only have been the work of a holy God who brought him through it all in one piece.

  The aluminum discs and the attached cord were added to Jack’s collection.

  As he continued to rummage through the items, he finally found what he was looking for: word of a new construction project along the Colorado River. He and Sam had planned to go sometime this year. These are the plans Sam wrote of in his note. Jack would head there now. Thousands would be needed for this project in the Black Canyon area.

  With a little luck, hiring would already be underway, and he’d have a new job easily. Besides, it would take a while to get there and to find the funds. He would need to take a train. Jack combed the article for more details. From what they had read earlier, the construction project had been mired in a bunch of legal mess. Sam had told Jack about a month ago that the issues had been mostly settled. I hope so. My mind’s made up.

  Aware from their past conversations that this was a way to deter Jack from enlisting, he had played along initially. Now, with this awful turn of events, it seemed more like fate, like it was meant to be. And, though it seemed a little odd, even to Jack, it felt like Sam was with him, continuing on with the plans they had made. Digging down even farther into the chest, Jack grabbed a sweater and a thermal shirt, as well as two T-shirts, all in better shape than his own clothing. He filled his travel bag with three changes of clothes, work overalls, Sam’s clothing, a few personal items and the keepsakes from the footlocker.

  Next he added two books, the gift from Sam, All Quiet on the Western Front, and his Bible, given to him by his mother. Finally, he would add Sam’s heavier jacket which was better suited for winter weather than his lighter hand-me-down coat. That, with his wool scarf and boots, should be all Jack would need. Sam’s aluminum tags went around his neck.

  He opened the worn cover of his mother’s Bible and read the words again that she had written when he had left home many months ago. You’ll never be truly lost if you seek direction from between these pages. Love, Mother. Jack scoffed. Maybe that’s my problem. Behind on my Bible reading. He would forgo his other book tonight and read from the Good Book. Hell, it couldn’t hurt.

  While thinking of his mother, he pulled out pen and paper and inked a note. He should let her know of these life changes, plus send whatever money he could. Trains were expensive; he preferred even travel by horse. This, however, was a necessity. He needed work soon. A train was the most efficient way to get to Nevada. The funds to his mother would be less train fare and travel money.

  Mother, I trust all is well at home. You might have heard of the mine disaster in Utah by now. Know I’m safe but have decided to leave in search of work elsewhere. There’s no future for me here. So I’m headed toward Nevada in search of work where a huge new dam will be built. You might have read about it. You’ll hear from me soon. I’ve enclosed my final pay from the mine. All my love, Jack.

  Sam’s funeral was tomorrow, but there was no body. Jack wouldn’t go. He couldn’t go. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Sam was still with him—he could feel him. Jack would honor Sam’s impact on his life in another way, by starting a new phase of his life.

  A decisive calmness came over Jack as his focus returned that had been lost since the disaster. Actually he felt more settled than he had in weeks. Jack prepared a light dinner of eggs, bread and milk, then retrieved the Bible and perused through its marked pages, ultimately deciding on the gospel of Matthew. It had been a long while. He read deep into the night, eventually falling into a sound sleep, the Bible strewn open on his chest. And this particular night, his demons didn’t haunt him as he rested.

  Jack woke refreshed and even more determined than yesterday of his course of action. His appetite returned, and, with what was left in the cupboard, he put together a large breakfast, complete with the last of the coffee. Jack couldn’t put his finger on what else had changed. Then, as he stared at the small space he and Sam had shared, bits and pieces of their time together flashed in his mind. They were good times, special and unique.

  He blinked, and a glimpse into the future flashed into the forefront of his mind. Then he knew what was different. Hope. He had found a glimmer of hope in his future again. Whatever that future held, he was ready. He grabbed Sam’s coat, his pistol and holster from the nightstand, threw his scarf around his neck and mouth in preparation for the February cold, then picked up his bag. With a final glance, he nodded and left the apartment.

  Even the monotonous trip to the mine seemed shorter since it was his last trip inside. The mine had not reopened yet. They still had not recovered the bodies. It was unfathomable to believe that this would be Sam’s final resting place. So Jack dismissed that possibility. Already there had been many other funerals. Jack had attended none of them. But he planned to witness the gathering that would take place outside the mine at sunset. The group memorial today for the six unrecovered miners would include no bodies or caskets, just a service for these men who had died during the course of their jobs.

  Jack entered the main entrance, then veered into the office where he knew Gene would be, preparing for the gathering later.

  “Gene.”

  “Oh, surprised to see you, Jack.” Gene grimaced as he spoke. “It’s early yet. Maybe you’d like to throw one more punch before the service, huh?”

  So the bruises and cuts on his face still bothered him a bit. Good.

  “I guess you’ll not forgive a man overcome by grief then?”

  Gene cleared his throat. “Well, that depends. I didn’t hear an apology.”

  Jack slammed his fist on the desk. “And you’ll get none from me. You’re responsible for the operation of this mine. You’re to blame.”

  “I, I just do what I’m told,” Gene stuttered.

  “Clearly. It’s no matter now anyhow. I’m leaving. I’m here for my pay and Sam’s to send to his mother.”

  “That’s your emotions talking. Are you sure you want to give up your job? Give it a few more days. Mull it over.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows in response and glared into Gene’s eyes. “Completely sure.”

  Gene shifted uneasily under the intensity of Jack’s gaze. “Well then, let me count it out, and you can be on your way.”

  “And Sam’s. And the way I understand it, there’s some sort of death benefit to be sent to next of kin, his mother in this case. I’ll send that too.”

  Gene nodded his head. “Indeed there is. It is prepared in the back. I’ll be just a few minutes.”

  True to his word Gene returned moments later with two envelopes, one marked for Jack and one for Sam.

  “How much is the death benefit?”

  Gene responded without looking up, “A week’s pay, $30.00.”

  Jack scoffed. “Mighty generous of you.”

  “And for you there is one week’s additional pay due to the temporary closure of the mine.”

  “Well, that will help some at least.” Jack opened the envelope and counted the contents.

  “It’s all there,” Gene assured him.

  “You wouldn’t want to short-change a grieving mother, would you?”

  Gene sighed deeply. “No. And I have not.”

  Jack nodded in agreement. “Looks like you haven’t.” Jack pocketed the envelopes. “I’ll be posting the letter to Sam’s mom today on my way out of town.” Jack headed for the door, then turned to face Gene.

  “For the record, I hope I never see you again. You and those like you have the blood of these men on your hands.” Jack left without waiting for an answer. The dumbfounded look on Gene’s face said all he needed to hear.

  Jack got a table at the diner in town—an unusual splurge for sure. He absentmindedly patted his inside pocket which held his train ticket for first light tomorrow. Earlier he had posted his two letters, one to his mother, the second to Sam’s. It felt like a small weight had been lifted with those two deeds done. He ate his fill, then sat back and nursed his second cup of coffee for the day. Relaxing, he stretched his legs and picked up a discarded newspaper and caught up on the local happenings. He kept his eye to the sky, judging from the sun’s height when sunset would occur to mark the service for the miners, which would be just before dusk.

  An hour later, Jack headed back to the mine, made his way up the hill to the sycamore tree where he and Sam met for lunch and started a fire. Down below, a circle of family and friends gathered around their own fires. Jack could hear the words of the pastor, which gave him little comfort. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, one of the personal items of Sam’s he chose to take from the locker, leaned in to the nearest flame and drew deeply, inhaling, pausing, then exhaling, letting the words he heard leave him with the discarded smoke. He didn’t smoke often; it was dangerous down below in the mine. But now it seemed fitting, to complete his homage to Sam.

  The sun set, its golden fluorescence falling behind the same tree where Jack’s head rested. He glanced wistfully toward the gathering crowd. He fought the urge to walk down and speak to them. A clean break would be better. Jack stood for the final prayer, then raised his head and added a line of own—more to Sam than God.

  If there is a God, I hope you and he are talking. Maybe you could let him know what a mess it is down here?

  Then Jack stomped out the fire, took one last draw of his cigarette and headed for the train station, crushing the discarded cigarette butt under his boot.

  THE SUN HAD set over the empty train station by the time Jack arrived. He pulled Sam’s coat tighter around his middle in an a
ttempt to create additional warmth. Wind rushed through the small waiting area, sending a chill through him that started at his neck and traveled the length of his spine. It would be a long evening. The plan to wait here overnight had seemed good at the time. Maybe one more night at the apartment would be a better decision? Jack glanced in the direction of the apartment he had shared with Sam, judging the distance and calculating the time.

  No—he quickly discarded that option. He didn’t want to take any chance of missing his train. Sam had woken him every day they were together. His face flushed. God, just like my mother. It was a glaring fault of his, so better not take the chance.

  Jack opened his bag and rooted through the carefully packed items for his winter cap. Before leaving the mine this morning he’d checked his bin for anything valuable and had grabbed the winter cap and shoved it in his pocket, just in case. He yanked it out now and pulled it down over his ears. Next he grabbed a sweater. Wrenching free from his coat, he added the new layer, grateful for the added warmth, then buttoned the jacket closed again, adjusting his coat so that no skin was bare to the wind.

  Still he felt a cold inside that caused him to shiver and shake.

  Discarded newspapers danced by in the wind, imitating life in the repeated rush through the air, the subtle drift to the ground; then, with the next gust, the movement repeated. He chased these down, and, as he caught each one, he shoved them under his coat, creating a further barrier to the cold. The quick movement also warmed him and got his blood flowing. Jack saved two pieces to sit on. The biting cold seeped through any surface eventually, including the wooden bench where he would spend the night. The newspaper underneath him would make this a little more bearable.

  He moved awkwardly with paper shoved in every crevice. It crinkled noisily with each step. Jack didn’t care as every little bit helped. This way, camping out here in the cold, at least he wouldn’t miss his train. He wasn’t sure, but it must have been each hour he got up to warm himself. Two of these times he moved between the buildings and relieved himself, frustrated with the prolonged undoing and redoing involved in the process. The stars shone in the early morning sky, giving Jack more light than needed to button and wrap his garments around him again.

  Judging by the sky, sunrise was only a couple hours away. At least I can sleep on the train. He stretched his aching muscles, then lay down on the bench, tucked his knees under the coat and burrowed his face between the folds of the jacket. This blocked a majority of the wind, and, as sunrise got closer, Jack dosed contentedly, one hand clasped around the aluminum tags he wore, dreaming of happier times with Sam.

  The blaring train whistle woke Jack abruptly, and he sat with a start. The morning sun stung his eyes as he adjusted to the cool brightness of the day. Passengers departed, staring as they passed him, his bits of newsprint peeking through neck openings and coat hem alike. He stood and pulled these free, laying the trash on the bench where he spent the night. His stomach rumbled, reminding him how he hadn’t eaten since before the service yesterday.

  Jack nodded an acknowledgment to travelers in his midst, ignoring the remaining glares, and headed back to the diner. Time was short. He couldn’t miss his train. There would be an abbreviated delay for passengers to depart, unload luggage and reload luggage for those boarding. He had to be in and out quickly. Jack ordered eggs over easy, toast and coffee.

  He breathed in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and groaned softly in pleasure. His senses sparked awake, and, while he shoveled the eggs in his mouth, refills of coffee warmed him completely through. With a little sleep he now felt more human and able to face the oncoming travel. Jack upturned the cup and finished the last drops, then paid the bill and headed toward the waiting train.

  With the boarding process underway, Jack exhaled deeply, releasing the pent-up breath he’d been holding while in the queue to climb on the train. Finally the recent devastating events could be memories in his past, where they belonged, instead of constantly barraging his conscious thoughts. Jack hoped his new life would come with a clean slate as well.

  He chose a window seat, stowed his bag and prepared for a few more hours of shut-eye in his more comfortable location. The sun felt deceptively warm through the window. Jack closed his eyes, leaned his head against the glass and soaked in the rays as they permeated through to his bones, warming parts of his body still chilled from the cold night spent outside. He had drifted to sleep when a nagging tug woke him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I said, may I join you? A family has asked to take my seat. There aren’t many left. Seems to be filling quickly.”

  Already disoriented, Jack nodded. “Suit yourself. Just be quiet, will ya?”

  “Uh, sure. My name’s Harry.”

  Harry reached out his hand.

  Jack closed his eyes and returned to his prior position.

  “PLEASED TO MEET you too,” Harry muttered. He stowed his travel bag and sat down with a heavy thud next to Jack.

  Soon the hustle and bustle of the boarding process diminished. Passengers found their seats, and the train horn blared obnoxiously.

  “All aboard,” the attendant yelled as he leaped inside. The train emitted a loud hiss as the steam released and the wheels began their forward motion. The train cars lurched and jerked while the locomotive gained speed.

  Harry turned to his left to see if his traveling companion woke from the noise. Whoever he was, he could sleep through anything. Soft snores, punctuated here and there by louder snorts, let Harry know the young man was indeed still asleep. The sun was well past its zenith when Harry’s companion stirred again.

  JACK BLINKED. THE cool chill from the window against his cheek flowed through his body in an involuntary shiver. He slid his head to the chair back and blinked several more times as he tried to get his bearings. Jack turned to his neighbor in a silent question, then bent his head and glanced out the window toward the sun low in the sky.

  “Yep. You missed lunch.”

  Jack resettled in his seat. “Figures.”

  Harry reached his hand below the seat into his bag and pulled out a cloth napkin. “You looked dead to the world, so I brought back a sandwich from the dining car before lunch service ended.”

  Jack’s mouth watered as Harry pulled back the napkin. “You did?” Jack licked his lips, and his stomach gurgled.

  “Here. Take it before you start frothing at the mouth.”

  The sandwich barely exchanged hands before Jack lunged forward, taking a huge bite.

  “Jesus, are you starving or something?”

  Jack paused his assault on the sandwich midgulp. “Mind your own business.”

  “Sure. You’re welcome.”

  Minutes passed, then an hour. Jack opened his bag, grabbed his book and laid it in his lap. “Hey, about before. It’s been a rough few days, but that’s no excuse for being an ass. I’m not really thinking straight. So, I’m sorry.”

  Harry cleared his throat and nodded. “Let me know if I can help. I’ve been on my own for two years now. I don’t have much, but I’m a good listener, so I’ve been told.”

  “Humph.”

  “What book are you reading?”

  Jack flipped the book on his lap so the title showed.

  “Ah.” Harry dug in his bag and thrust another book in front of Jack.

  A flash of a smile crossed his lips. “Farewell to Arms. Looks like we have similar interests. I’ve heard of it. Actually, I’d like to read it, when I’m done with this one.”

  “Maybe we can switch. After all, we’re stuck on this train for a few days.”

  “Sure thing.” Jack flipped through his remaining pages. “I’ve only got about fifty pages left.”

  “Are you planning to enlist? You don’t look old enough.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the news flash. I’m seventeen. So, almost. You?”

  “I was thinking about it. But, while I can, I want to travel, but first I need money. I’m headed to Las Vegas in search of work.”