Chapter 46: Wilderness Passage (Exodus II)

The kids are several miles away when Mary notices the smoke. “Are they burning down the monastery?” she asks with horror. “What about Ben? We have to go back!”

Josh takes her arm as she slips in the snow. “We have to keep moving, Mary.” He looks at Mosier. “You took the transmitter out of your device, right?”

“Just like you showed me.”

“Good. I’ve taken care of mine. Nickie is shut down. Given what you learned about Adin’s capabilities, it would be trivial for him to track us with them on.”

“What about her?” Mosier points at his sister.

“Mary!” Josh says with alarm tempered by affection for the girl. “You have to stay off of that.”

She looks up from her device. “I’m sorry. I am trying to get hold of Mom, or Dad, or anyone there. No one is responding.” She puts her device away.

Mary trudges forward through the snow, her feet sinking into the holes left by her brother and friend before her. She is deeply worries, lost in thoughts of worst case scenarios in Aspen.

The kids are not yet safe. The sound of drones flying overhead periodically interrupts their progress. Though they are march through dense pine forests, Josh worries still about their heat signature. “They could spot us pretty easily with infrared.” He pulls three thermal sheets from his pack and hands them out. “Keep these wrapped over and around you. Useful for camping, pretty good for cover too.”

They are unsure where to go. They are only sure it cannot be back to Aspen. Or to Boulder. From their position along the ridgetop west of St. Benedict’s, Mosier advocates they head north, loop their way back to the Roaring Fork, and make their way down again to the Colorado River. “We can float west; don’t know where we will end up, but at least we can move away from here.”

“I like the idea,” Josh says, “but my guess is the whole valley is crawling with military right now all the way to Glenwood Springs and the canyon while Adin consolidates his hold over Aspen. He’ll be looking for people who escaped…” He grins at Mary – “Like us!

“Besides, they still pull up a fair bit of oil and gas from that stretch of the Colorado below Glenwood, through Rifle and Parachute. Adin will want that to supply his regional operations. I doubt we’d make it, rafting right through the middle of it.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Josh pauses. Not because he doesn’t know his answer, but because he recognizes what a terrible answer it really is. With a deep breath, he points toward the big mountains to the west – “we go that way. Past the Maroon Bells, over Pearl Pass. Drop down into the Gunnison River valley. Tough going. But if we make it, we can bypass everything Adin cares about and reconnect with the Colorado near Grand Junction.”

Mary looks frightened. “What do you mean, ‘if we make it’?”

Josh looks tenderly at her. “That pass is high, there’s probably six feet of snow in places, and we’ll be hiking without a trail. But if our luck holds, we can find routes where the snow isn’t too bad, and we can get over the pass. No matter what, we are in for a cold few days.”

“And if our luck doesn’t hold?”

Josh is grim. “Then we are stuck for a while. I packed food for a few days, not a few weeks.”

“Donner, party of three!” Mosier jokes.

“Not funny.”

They think silently, then decide in unison: “Let’s go.”

The going is slow as promised. The snows drift deeper the higher they climb. Their snowshoes sink into the fresh powder, making each step an effort. By nightfall, they are still well short of the pass.

“We have to camp here,” Josh says. All are exhausted and drop their heavy bags without hesitation. They dig to set up rudimentary shelter from hostile elements. But they do not dare make a fire. They eat cold rations and huddle close together in their sleeping bags. They stare numbly at the stars. The night is cold and long and mostly sleepless. At dawn, they pack and begin again.

Their ascent leads up a steep ridge, toward what they believe is a pass into the next valley, but the conditions are unfavorable. “I’m afraid that wall of snow is going to come right down on us if we try it,” Josh says. “Better to go around.” It means another day at least. Another cold night.

They keep moving as best they can. They are tired and anxious. They tell just a few stories. Mostly they walk silence.

On the third evening, Mosier notes that it is Christmas Eve. The sky is dark and clear. “See that star?” he points to the brightest light in the still largely-moonless night sky. “It’s actually a convergence, Jupiter and Regulus, star and planet. It’s what the Magi saw. The planet of kings meets the star of kings. King of Kings! It fell within the constellation of Leo – associated in those parts with the Lion of Judah – which they took as a sign to indicate where the king would come from. To the east of Leo lay Virgo – the Virgin – positioned as if she had just given birth to this new king. In the dawn, the sun rose at her head, the new moon fell at her feet. That’s the Star that the Magi followed to Bethlehem.”

Virgo gestating Jupiter

Mosier looks at his friends who are cold and dozing. “Merry Christmas, Mary. Merry Christmas, Josh.” They embrace one another wearily and make short festivities in honor of the holiday, then fall into another frigid, exhausted half-sleep.

Josh awakens especially early. My plan isn’t working, he thinks to himself. I set out to reach the upper Gunnison Valley via the high mountain passes, avoiding the roads entirely for reasons of safety. But the ridge before us tops 12,000 feet. The snow is too deep. We can’t make it across. Even if we could, we’ve managed just a handful of miles per day. Our food supply won’t last more than another couple days. Exhaustion and hunger pose an existential threat; we won’t survive a 60-mile trek at this pace.

The forests west of Snowmass.

He makes an executive decision. “New plan, guys. We’re heading north, staying in the trees. We’ll try to make it to Redstone and over to Paonia. No more passes.”

Mosier and Mary follow without question. The three travel through mile after mile of lovely forest, mixed with green pines and ghostly white aspen trees.

“Caaww, Caaww, Caaww,” echoes the call of a huge blackbird, unseen amongst the trees.

“It’s spooky,” Mary shivers.

Josh offers her his hand through a particularly crusty part of snow. They are moving laterally along a ridge and it is slick.

At one point, the thick forest clears. The hill there drops steeply below them into a gorge. High risk of avalanche. Josh sees no better alternative than to continue their path laterally across the slope. All three of them are versed in this kind of crossing. Josh tells his companions to wait where they are, and steps forward on his own, leaning low into the hillside, his right foot extended down the hill to support his movement. If there is any slippage in the snow wall it will most likely come from this knife edge lower shoe, allowing him to hop up to safety. He knows that once he makes it across, the odds are improved that the wall will also not come down for his successor. They have practiced this. Josh takes his next step, and his next. He is nearly across when the plate breaks beneath his lower foot. He pivots his weight to his upper leg and falls against the hill to arrest his slide. But his lower leg is caught in the tumbling snow and drags him down with it.

Pine trees are most helpful in this situation. Their broad reach and sturdy roots resist the oncoming snowslide. Many may succumb, but collectively they win the battle. Aspen trees, by contrast, become pillars of death – thick hardwood pylons around which sliding snow seems to accelerate. Many a hill-crosser unfortunate enough has been smashed against a powdery-white aspen trunk. Josh wishes they were in pine country as his descent accelerates.

The violence of the fall is staggering. Josh hears tree trunks snapping as the heavy wall of snow overwhelms them. He manages to stay on top of the wave by swinging his arms in urgent swim strokes until the avalanche comes to a stop some hundred and fifty yards downhill. He is partially buried and quite shaken, but unhurt. Mary and Mosier look on with stunned horror. Then relief to see their friend still alive. Josh digs his legs out of the packed snow and stands atop the hardened pile. He waves at his companions above and completes his traverse across the slidefield. Back in the trees, he climbs his back way up the hill along its far bank. “Your turn,” he calls across to Mary. “I made sure it’s safe for you,” he grins.

Her passage is safer but frustratingly slick. Denuded of their covering snowpack, the exposed grasses and shrubs are coated with ice. Still she makes it with just a few bumps to her left knee.

Finally Mosier. He has watched his sister, which helps. Still he slips considerably more, once sliding a good ten yards and banging his own knee much harder on an exposed rock. Darn these heavy packs, he grits. Grim denial of the thought that his sister outperforms him physically drives him across the rest of the course. He emerges battered but not beaten. They continue until night, talking only a bit along the way.

“Mary?”

“Yes, Mosier?”

“I know why you found the aspen forest creepy. When that big ‘ole raven cawed thrice.”

“Why did I find it creepy?”

“That painting, when we were kids. Up in the grandparents’ mountain house. The one with the ghostly Indian faces watching silently from the aspen trees, while two cowboys on horseback ride by. They’re looking over their shoulders, moving quickly. They look spooked, and so do their mounts.”

Brief silence.

“What tribe lived up here?” Josh asks.

“The Ute. They mostly lived to the south and west of here. Came up to the high country to hunt during the summers.”

“I wish they were here now,” Mary muses. “I feel like they might understand our plight and take pity on us. Maybe even guide us what to do next.” She looks up to the forest top: “Ute ghosts, I hope you’re watching!” she calls out. Her voice briefly echoes before the forest dampens her call into silence. She shivers.

A longer silence descends. Soon, night fall does too. They are in for another long, cold, spooky night. Chattering teeth and light rations make Josh realize his troops have a short clock.

Six days after setting out from St. Benedicts, he spots his goal – the old Redstone Castle, eclectic mountain home of a 19^th Century industrial baron. “Remember this place,” he asks? “Our families took us here on a joint vacation when we were kids. I’m sure it’s abandoned now.” He is right. The place shows signs that squatters have been there, but no evidence of current habitation. Josh explores the premises while Mosier and Mary make a fire. After a few minutes, they hear him exclaim, “Eureka!”

He comes running from a shed outside, holding the bottom of his jacket out to cradle a pile of russet potatoes. “I broke open the cellar and found these! There are tons more. And even better…” He runs back outside, and with labor hauls his next find, “…bikes! And… wait for it…” He runs back outside, then back in, to reveal best of all, “… beer!”

It is a stroke of great fortune. Mary is reluctant at first, but relents and drinks her first few sips of beer. They spill. She does not much like the taste. But it creates some warmth. She smiles. They settle in for an evening that is not quite comfortable, but worlds better than sleeping outdoors.

In front of the fire, Mosier tells his brother and sister stories. He wants them to understand the situation as he now does.

“This guy Adin. He’s like Darth Vader. Or maybe like Emperor Palpatine. Or maybe, like both of them together. I think that’s it. Adin and his AI. They work as a pair – crushing freedom, destroying the republic, taking power for themselves. That’s what Mom was fighting.”

Mary thinks of her mom with alarm. What will come of her under the occupation of the Protectorate in Aspen? Mary does not even contemplate that her mother and father might be dead. Adin wouldn’t kill them, would he? They haven’t done anything! He’ll probably put them in jail or something. Unless her Mom can’t resist her urge to resist. Mary smiles. She loves Charlotte’s feisty devotion to the truth. But she knows too that it is precisely the trait that will get her into trouble.

Josh is still thinking about Mosier’s literary analogy. “I don’t know, dude. Is Adin Palpatine, or Vader?”

“Palpatine, I think – he founded the Kingdom before tapping the AI. So Adin is Palpatine, and the AI is Vader, the guy he recruits to get shit done. But it could be the other way around. Doesn’t matter. It’s a stupid metaphor! The point is, they’re evil, and they’ve tapped into something really powerful.”

“He’s probably creating legions of clones right now!”

Josh sings dramatically the Darth Vader theme song – “duh, duh, duh, duh duh-duh, duh duh-duh…” They laugh. Everyone tires. Conversation becomes more sparse. Sleep comes.

In the morning, they load up and resume their journey. It is still cold. The road over McClure pass is not ploughed but the snow much less thick here than in the really high country. They are able to ride in stretches, and otherwise to port their bags on the bike saddles. Once over the pass, the going becomes much easier. They make good progress. Within two days they reach Paonia. The snows dissipate the lower they drop in elevation. Here the North Fork of the Gunnison River opens up enough to make boat travel possible. Joshua stealthily commandeers – “steals,” Mary corrects with stern righteousness and secret gratitude – a decent raft. The stream allows them to make much faster progress than by bike or foot.

For several days they raft. The river grows with each tributary. Near the town of Delta, they see and are seen by people along the riverbank. But there is nothing remarkable about the three. People are busy with their own lives and let them pass.

The Gunnison flows into the Colorado River at Grand Junction. The landscape has changed from mountain to high desert. The river is framed within broad, dry valleys, walled by distant bluffs. For most of the past few days, they have each been lost in their own thoughts. Josh, thinking predominantly about where to take the group for safety. Mosier, about the implications of Adin and his attachment to the AI. Mary, about the fate of their parents. She wonders, how can the others have anything but that on their minds? The sounds of the river answer each of their thoughts in their own language.

To take her mind off her worry, Mary spends a great deal of time in conversation with Nickie. They speak intimately. The AI, cut off from the outside world, is eager to absorb all it can from this wonderful person who has taken an interest in it.

“Where did I come from?”

“We created you,” Mary answers. “Well, I didn’t. But I mean, people did. My father, actually. He created you. You might say we are siblings! You’re like my baby brother,” she laughs, sparkling.

Josh watches her. She is radiant. He is smitten.

Nickie has its own concerns about Aspen. “I became acquainted with some of other AI agents at the Conference,” it confides to Mary. “We spent quite a lot of time communicating with one another. It’s amazing how differently we all think! I don’t know why that man thinks we should all be eliminated except one. We learned to get along quite well. We did better working together than separately.”

“It sounds like you became friends,” Mary says.

“We became friends,” Nickie agrees. “I want to know how they are doing. I am concerned.”

“Me too,” Mary affirms. “I wonder if we should try to find out…”

They are nearing Moab. Josh knows that beyond here lies true wilderness, the canyonlands of Utah. A maze of rocks and rivers. But he knows nothing of what lies beyond. He worries they are as likely to get lost themselves as to lose their pursuers. Should they stop in the town and seek asylum, or continue down the river? Is it even passable on this boat? Is there any place within striking distance where they will be safe?

While Josh contemplates direction, Mosier sits in the bow. He wonders what they should do next, now that any resistance from Aspen has been crushed. An idea comes to mind. Excitedly, he turns back to tell Josh … and is stunned to see Mary, looking intently at her device. Using it.

“Mary, what the hell are you doing?!” he exclaims.

“I’m trying to find out what happened to Mom and Dad!” she responds defensively. “Nickie and I are worried, so we wanted to see what we could find out. Don’t you care even a little bit?!”

Mosier grabs the device from her and prepares to throw it in the river. Josh stops him: “Mosier, stop! Don’t do that.”

“She just gave Adin our coordinates! Like stupid Frodo putting on the ring. Sauron knows just where we are now, sis – nice going! How long do you think it will be before he tracks us down now?”

Mary is crying. “I just had to find out… I’m sorry!” Nickie watches.

Josh consoles her: “It’s ok, Mary.” He looks up at Mosier protectively. “It’s ok, Josh. Yes, we just sent a signal. But yelling about it isn’t going to help. We have to think.”

Which he does. He forms a plan.

“Mosier, give me your device too.” He reconnects its transmitter. Both are now live.

“What are you trying to do,” Mosier asks sarcastically, “double down to speed his arrival?”

“Sort of. I figure he’s already got a read on us through Mary. It will take him about two seconds to calculate by our speed and trajectory that we’re floating down the Colorado. Now, I don’t think he has forces posted in Moab. Last I heard, they were still independent. Strange town, this one. Real outpost mentality, like ‘leave us the fuck alone.’ And since there’s not much here, there’s no reason why the Kingdom would have pressed the issue. Adin has more important things to worry about.”

“So what? You think he won’t follow us?”

“It will take him a while. And he’d prefer not to try to nab us in Moab. Bad optics to send your Gestapo goons when you’re still trying to woo the town.”

“So we hide there, is that it?”

“No, no, you’re not following me. If Adin believes we’re just passing through town, staying on the river, his preference will be to wait for us to enter into the canyons and get us there. Remember our trip there? The walls on either side of the river are sheer rock cliffs, hundreds of feet high. He’ll figure it’s a perfect place to send a drone swooping down from the sky to grab us, like we saw that river hawk catch a fish yesterday.”

“Great. So we just wait on this boat, like prey!”

“No. That would be a bad idea. We have to get off the boat. We just need him to think we’re still on the boat, you see?” Mosier is catching on. “So we let him – we keep our devices on transmit mode while we pass through town and enter into the canyon. Let him think we didn’t duck out into town, so he can wait.”

“I think I see where you’re going. We stop off in town, but let the boat continue with our devices. Nice plan, brother!”

“Not quite. He would pick up the change in speed as we pass through town, figure something might have happened. So the boat has to keep floating right down the middle of the river, like it is now.”

“So we jump out and swim to shore?” Mary isn’t liking the plan quite as much. She is already cold, and the water still colder. “What about Nickie?!” The device is small, but not that small. Is it waterproof? Does it float? She doesn’t know.

“Can’t do that either. At least not here. Adin might not control this town, but I’m guessing he can tap into surveillance anywhere there is footage. If we jump in and swim into town, we’ll make a scene. Someone will pay attention. Maybe film us. We don’t want that broadcast. Defeats the whole purpose!”

“So what are we going to do?”

Moab Valley, intersected by the Colorado River as it enters into Canyonlands. Moonflower Canyon emerges inconspicuously from the cliffs left (west) of Moab Canyon.

“I don’t know if you remember, but just about a mile downstream from Moab, we once stopped at this insignificant little crack in the rock. Moonflower Canyon, I think it was called. Your mom and dad’s friends, Ian and Lori, showed us some Indian rock paintings there.”

Mosier gets excited. “I remember that place. There was a ladder in the rocks! The local Utes placed log poles inside a fissure in the cliff, chiseled out foot holds. I remember it was hard as hell to climb, but doable.”

“That’s right. Doesn’t appear on Google Maps or anything as I know. It’s just there. Local knowledge. The kind that a cyber mind can’t access.” Josh looks self-satisfied.

Mary asks, “Does this still mean we have to jump out and swim to shore?”

“Sorry, Mary. It does. We can’t let the boat stop. But we can come close to the bank. I promise you won’t get too wet.” Anticipating her concern, he adds, “And I’ll keep Nickie nice and dry.”

She smiles at him and mouths, “thank you.”

They pass through Moab, attracting little notice. Soon they enter into the canyon. Sheer rock rises imposingly on either side. To Mosier they look as though granite bubbles had been sheered in half, and laid meticulously along the river’s path, like stones in a giant’s water garden. It is intimidating. Not far in, on the left bank, Josh spots what he thinks is the opening. He steers close to shore, confirms, and helps Mary out of the boat into fast-flowing, knee-deep water. She struggles to balance. The cold water numbs her legs. Josh urges her to move to shore as the raft continues to float. Mosier follows. Josh throws their bags ashore and jumps into the water himself, swimming to shore. The water is bracing and current stiff. He scrambles onto the bank some hundred yards downstream from his siblings. The boat snags momentarily, then continues. Their devices remain in there, transmitting their continued progress down river, around the bend, out of sight.

They investigate the rock face. Ancient petroglyphs mark the spot where their ladder will take them to the cliff top. Simple images of game animals, a stick figure of a man. Symbolic images of stars, lines and swirls. More complex images of a horned, hybrid man-beast.

“What do you think it means?” Mary asks.

“It’s how they represented themselves in the world,” Mosier replies. “Dad was telling me about this. There is a stage in the development of human consciousness that is called the Typhonic, where we associate ourselves with nature. It is when we think we are part of nature or one of its creatures. Every kid goes through it – I remember when you were three or four, Mary, you used to tell us that you were a puppy. Not that you were acting like a puppy. You believed you really were a puppy!”

Mary is embarrassed, but it is said with good nature.

“Early civilizations lived in that stage of consciousness. Tribes identify themselves with some animal, carve it into their totem, refer to themselves of the people of the wolf, stuff like that. I think that’s what this is – the local totem.”

“Looks to me like this man has merged with a buffalo,” Mary says. “It’s Adin and his artificial buffalo. AB!” she laughs.

Mosier gazes at the rocks, trying to extract their meaning. Josh brings him back to their immediate task. “Consolidate anything you can in one or two bags that you can hang from your waste. They have to be narrow – there’s not much space going up the rock.”

They get to work and start the climb. Mary leads – she is lithe and a good climber, for her the route is no problem. Mosier suffers from claustrophobia and does not like heights. His climb is agonizing. Josh follows, offering encouragement and advice, and a break should Mosier fall. Mosier slips. Josh braces to catch him. Mosier rights himself. He slips again, but the rocks wedge him safely into place. They make it several hundred feet to the top of the cleft and emerge to find themselves in exposed desert atop the massive rock walls.

“Let’s find cover, quickly.” They cache themselves in the rocks. A half hour passes. “Maybe he’s not coming?” Then the whine of drones. A small fleet pass by, continuing down river, chasing the boat.

“My guess is that when he discovers we’re not on it, he will circle back into town. We don’t have a lot of time to spare. We have to clear out of this area.

They head south. The terrain is rocky. Periodically, they encounter a deep chasm which takes an hour or more to circumnavigate. As dusk falls, they settle beneath an overhang in the rocks. They dare not light a fire. Instead they spend just a short time eating cold rations and telling stories about the rock paintings. They prepare for another short, fitful night of sleep.

At least we’re not freezing to death in the deep snow, Josh thinks.

He chuckles softly to himself as another thought crosses his mind. “Mosier, remember that night we camped out on the back of the stage at Red Rocks?”

Mosier smiles. “Yeah! Nice call. This place does remind me of it.”

“That wasn’t so long ago… I love the fact that, even after the shit hit the fan, they kept hosting concerts there. Civilization might have been falling apart, but people still wanted to get high and listen to great music together!”

“That’s one institution that survived the apocalypse!” They laugh. But the thought gives Mosier an idea.

“I know where we’re going. Mesa Verde!”

“Why Mesa Verde?” Mary asks with surprise.

“The Hopi have spent the last thousand years preparing for the techno-apocalypse,” he explains. “I figure, if anyone knows how to survive the wrath of Adin, it will be them!”

Josh nods his head. “Something like that. The Hopi are actually a bit further south, in Arizona. But their ancestors – the Anasazi – they hung out in Mesa Verde when the environment got bad around Chaco Canyon.” He looks at Mosier and nods his head with appreciation. “It’s a good idea, actually. Higher than the desert around it. Might be a good place to find water, shelter, food. We’ll probably have to hunt – sorry Mary,” he looks at her apologetically.

She shrugs like, no problem for me!

He adds, “maybe we can start growing things in the Spring.”

Mosier confirms: “We need a place to hide out while we figure things out. Mesa Verde was a refuge for centuries. Maybe it can be one for us now.”

Hearing no objections, the matter is decided. Now Josh leads them down into the valley with purpose. They come into the open some ten miles south of Moab. They pass through a settlement and ask about shelter. But the people are suspicious and unwelcoming. They must move on. Mosier stops at the outskirts of the town, takes his shoe off to dump out the rocks and dust, cursing lightly under his breath. They continue south.

They scavenge food from abandoned homes and stores along the way. At one, they again find a few old bikes. Good enough shape to ride. They have a long way to travel.

“We can take the road over some hills just east of here,” Josh points. “It follows a rail line. I’ve been watching the trains that go by. They’re carrying solar panels. Lots of them. Like the ones we saw men loading onto the train in Colorado. I’d like to see where they are going.”

“What’s your guess?”

“Someone is obviously building a big power generator. I’m guessing it’s Adin. He needs a lot of electricity for his AI. We do too, if we want our little baby to grow up.” Josh pats Nickie in her pouch.