Page 43 of So Far Gone

It was a hard decision, but Asher knew what he had to do. He resigned his post as the greatest scout the cavalry had ever

seen, effective immediately, telling gruff old General Kinnick that from now on he would only fight on the side of the Indi—

er, the Native Americans. You know my soldiers will have to kill you if they see you , the general stated.

But I have been the best scout you’ve ever had , stated Asher .

I know , the general stated back . It’s true .

Asher saluted and stated, I’m sorry, sir, but this is my destiny .

The general stated, Well, then go with God, soldier , Asher immediately stating back, Cool .

The tribe had given him a special name, Six-nut , because he was the bravest nine-year-old anyone had ever seen.

Nobody could believe what a good scout he was. He talked

the chief of the tribe, Standing Water, into moving their horses to a safer river up north, one that he had discovered (and

leaped over) on an earlier scouting mission to this remote territory. Six-nut knew that, hidden on this secret river, the

horses couldn’t be shot by the cavalry solders. Standing Water said this was a brilliant strategy, but that it would be dangerous.

He would be taking his life in his own hands. That’s what I do every day , Asher stated. He found a rifle on the ground, but then he found a better stick and tossed the first one away, and that’s

when—

“Asher?” It was General Kinnick again, coming out of the back door of the house.

“Yeah.”

“We’re still talking in here. Are you all right outside by yourself?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Grandpa Rhys looked all around and breathed in deeply. “Nice out here, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Stay near the house, okay?”

“Can I go play by the creek?”

Grandpa Rhys looked back at the house, as if wondering if he should ask Asher’s mom, but then he said, “Sure. Just don’t go

very far, okay?”

“Can I jump over it again?”

“Well.” His grandfather made a face. “I guess.”

General Kinnick took another look around, then settled his eyes on the brave young scout, perhaps knowing that he might be

seeing him for the last time. “But come inside if you get wet.”

“I will.”

And with that, the general went back inside the fort.

And so Six-nut moved slowly into the woods, hiking along the raging river. One wrong step and it would be over for them all.

Four braves had been put under his command by Standing Water, surely the first time a nine-year-old had ever led a war party.

Asher explained to them the difference between cutbanks and point bars, and they were all amazed. He said they needed to find

a good point bar on which they could cross the horses to the other side.

Then he saw a rock that looked a little like a chess piece, a bishop, and Asher bent over and picked it up.

It wasn’t flat on the bottom like a real bishop, and it was kind of uneven, but it could pass.

Bishops were his favorite pieces (even though they couldn’t really do very much, and he suspected they would ultimately be his downfall, once he rose to the level of grand master, because he would always rather sacrifice his knights than his preferred bishops) and he wondered how you went about flattening the bottoms of rocks anyway, to get them to stand up, and whether he could find a whole chess set among these rocks.

Maybe he could build a board from a log and then find enough rocks to teach the men in his war party to play chess.

Doubtful. He’d need to find sixteen light rocks and sixteen dark rocks, half of them in pairs. And the other sixteen would

have to be pretty much the same, for pawns. Maybe these little round pebbles. He bent over and picked one up. For some reason,

he had the urge to put it in his mouth, which he did. It was cold and dirty and... rocky. He spat it out.

He looked back at the house. Smoke was coming out of the chimney. Grandpa Rhys had built a fire. Maybe for coffee. Was Leah

drinking coffee now, too? He didn’t like that she was getting to be in the grown-up conversations, while he still got sent

outside to play. What was the big deal? So, Leah and Davy had kissed and Davy was friends with someone who was a bi, which

apparently meant that you thought boys and girls were cute, which he didn’t see why that was a problem. Wasn’t that how everyone should be?

He found himself back at the same corner of the creek where he’d tried to jump before. He set his rifle down on the ground.

The other side would be a perfect place to bring the tribe’s horses. But, first, it needed to be properly scouted. The last

time, his boots had messed him up. So, he took them off and set them in the grass high above the cutbank. He stood in the

wild grass in his socks, watching the creek water burble around this corner. He eased forward a step, to the edge, crouched,

bent his knees, and jumped.

He landed perfectly on the inside corner, on the dirt of the point bar, just like his grandfather had suggested. “Hey!” he

said.

But look, now his boots were on the other side. He wondered if Indian scouts ever went barefoot.

That’s when a noise in the woods behind Asher startled him.

He turned. From behind a tree stepped a big bald man, dressed all in black, black gloves on his hands, a cool utility belt around his waist, a holstered handgun on his right side.

He had a little tube in his hand, a small telescope, like the one that usually went on a rifle.

“Brother Dean? What are you doing here?”

Brother Dean put his finger to his lips.

Asher whispered: “What are you doing here?”

Brother Dean whispered back. “Who’s inside the house, Asher? Is that cop in there with your grandpa?”

“No, he got shot, remember?” Asher whispered. “He’s at this lady’s house. We stopped and saw him. It’s just my mom and my

grandpa and Leah and David Jr.”

Dean looked at the house. “You’re sure there’s no one else in there?”

“Yeah,” Asher whispered, “I’m sure.”

Brother Dean pulled a small walkie-talkie from his utility belt. He pressed the button and said into it: “All clear. We are

a go. Repeat. We are a go.”—Asher wishing he had a walkie-talkie like that.

***

Inside the house, Bethany patted David Jr. on the arm. “Look, I know this is scary, and hard, but you need to talk to your

parents about it, Davy. They want to help.”

“Are you kidding? They want to deprogram me!”

“We’ll talk to them. Your mom seemed very understanding. And your dad—” She didn’t finish the thought. Davy’s dad probably

did want to deprogram him.

Davy stood and walked to the window. “Where do they get off saying I’m gay, anyway?” He turned back. “It’s not like I’ve even

done anything! How are they such experts on what I want when I don’t even know?”

Leah opened her mouth, as if to reassure Davy about the kiss they’d shared last night, but she seemed to think better of it.

She’d explained to her mother that they’d talked all night, gotten blankets from Kinnick’s room upstairs and spread them on the floor, among all the books.

At some point, Leah had offered to let him kiss her, to see if he liked it.

Bethany felt so conflicted. Here, her daughter experiences her first kiss, and they’re not talking about that, but about conversion therapy and bisexuality and whether wearing women’s clothes had anything to do with one’s sexuality.

Bethany sighed. “Let’s all just... stay calm, huh?”

She sipped the terrible coffee her father had made. She had to breathe through her mouth in here because of the smells in

the house. Body odor and dirty clothes and old books. Like the crypt of a mummified philosophy professor. Not exactly how

she’d been picturing her own “escape.” Meanwhile, her father could not sit still, and kept moving stacks of books, picking

things up, setting them down elsewhere—like someone tidying a compost pile. He smelled his armpit, then changed shirts, then

smelled his armpit again. She wasn’t sure she could handle this new giving-an-effort Rhys, who, at one point, went to his pantry and brought out a plate of random canned and dried foods from the kitchen. “Soda

cracker? Vienna sausage? Dehydrated huckleberry?”—each offering somehow sadder than the last.

Davy sighed. He picked a soda cracker off the plate and sat back down. “Maybe I should just move to Canada or something.”

“It’s not so great up there, either,” Bethany said, her father giving her a warm smile. “Look, Davy, I’ll help you talk to

your parents. I’ll go with you.”

“My dad’s not going to listen to you,” Davy said.

That was undoubtedly true. Especially after what the church believed she’d done, leaving Shane for her old drug-addled, musician

boyfriend.

“You know what would piss my dad off the most?” A sly smile crossed Davy’s face, and for the first time, Bethany thought this wispy young man might have a chance in life.

“Before they found their new church, Marsh’s parents baptized him in a Catholic Church.

I should tell him Marsh is Catholic and that we want to get married in his church. Dad’s head will explode!”

“I don’t think men can marry each other in the Catholic Church,” Leah said quietly, almost to herself, as if it was dawning

on her where this was all headed.

Oh, how Bethany wished she were just talking to her daughter about this. She dreaded what was coming for Leah, the teenage

years, all that heartache and blooming awkwardness, the cacophonous thoughts and unwieldy feelings. She could already sense

her daughter beginning to pull away, slipping into adolescent shutdown mode.

She patted Leah on the leg, and they made eye contact, Leah swallowing hard, Bethany mouthing, It’s okay.

Then Bethany stood. “Listen, Davy, before we do anything else, can we at least let your parents know that you’re safe?”

Davy held up his phone. “No coverage.”

“We can drive back toward town and send them a text.”

There was a sound outside then.