Jonah Havensby Read online

  Jonah Havensby

  By

  Bob Bannon

  For My Mother,

  who said to me

  “Just sit down and write me a story”

  Text copyright 2014 by Robert T. Bannon

  Jacket art copyright 2014 by Carrie Wisemantle

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination

  or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book may not be reproduced, copied or re-distributed for any purposes without express consent from the author.

  If you enjoyed this book, please recommend to others that they purchase it.

  Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  SECTION I

  SECTION II

  SECTION III

  SECTION IV

  SECTION V

  SECTION VI

  SECTION VII

  SECTION VIII

  SECTION IX

  SECTION X

  SECTION XI

  SECTION XII

  SECTION XIII

  SECTION XIV

  SECTION XV

  SECTION XVI

  SECTION XVII

  SECTION XVIII

  SECTION XIX

  SECTION XX

  SECTION XXI

  SECTION XXII

  SECTION XXIII

  SECTION XXIV

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I

  Jonah Havensby was hanging from his bedroom window by a sheet tied hastily under his arms. His first thought was how cold the siding of the house was on his bare feet - cold and wet. In the fall, it always got cold at night, and a thin fog usually hung in the air making it moist. He hung there, from the second-story bedroom window by the bed sheet tied around him by his father.

  His dad had roused him from a deep sleep. Not so much waking him up as bursting into the room and sweeping him off the bed to his feet. “There’s no time to explain right now, Jonah, but you have to leave. And you have to get away now,” he said. He shook the boy’s shoulders gently but sternly until he was sure Jonah was paying full attention. “Dangerous men are coming here, Jonah. Very dangerous men. I’m sorry. I can’t explain right now. There’s no time.”

  His father rushed into a flurry of activity. He tore the sheets from the bed, tied them together and tied one end under Jonah’s arms, cinching the sheet at his chest. “This will do. It will have to,” his father said.

  Jonah was fourteen years old. He was groggy with sleep and nothing about the situation made sense. He had no frame of reference for a situation like this. His father, who he often considered to be one of the gentlest people in the world, was telling him that dangerous men were coming. Who would want to harm his father? Or did they want him? Were dangerous men after him? He could only stand and take instruction.

  “I’ll lower you out the window. You’ll be just fine. You’ll run to the woods. If something bad happens, run all the way to the caves. You remember the caves?” His father asked. Jonah nodded and wiped the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. His father stopped and looked down at him. “Jonah, tell me you remember the caves.”

  “Yes!” Jonah said obstinately. “Yes, I remember where the caves are.” He said in an angry but sleepy mumble.

  “Come here,” his father ordered. Jonah moved to the window which his father slid open. The cold night air rushed in, chilling Jonah. He was only wearing a red t-shirt and white basketball shorts, the same thing he always slept in. The shorts, he felt, were a luxury item. On the rare occasion they went anywhere, it was usually to the mall in the town nearby, and that was usually to buy clothes to replace ones Jonah was growing out of. The last time they were there, Jonah had begged and bargained for the basketball shorts and finally won out. That happened even more rarely.

  He wasn’t sure why that thought had even occurred to him, but his father snapped him back to reality by moving him roughly by the shoulders and telling Jonah to sit on the window sill with his legs out the window while his father wrapped the other end of the sheet-rope around himself.

  Jonah did manage one word that night, “But..”

  “No, Jonah. No questions. There’s no time now. They’re coming. I’m sorry. There’s no time,” and with that, his father looked deep into his eyes, kissed him on the forehead, hugged his head to his chest then looked at him again. He smoothed Jonah’s curly brown hair, hair that never would quite be tamed, giving Jonah a perpetual look of just waking up. “You’ll be alright. I promise,” his father whispered, and with that, his father put his green-gem necklace around his son’s neck and lowered him out the window.

  His father’s face was just above him. “When you reach the ground, don’t look back!” his father said in hushed but stern words. “Just run! I’ll find you. I swear I’ll find you.” His father’s pointy face glistened. He had never thought of his father as a strong man, and bearing the weight of the boy in the sheet was the most physical thing he had ever seen his father do. The sheet slid slowly down and, as it did, Jonah’s feet walked down the siding, leaving wet tracks.

  Jonah looked around from his perch. There were few neighboring houses, and even those were quite a distance away. Most of his surroundings were tall fir trees and other smaller, leafy trees that created a canopy around the area. He could smell the pine trees in the air. He could see how the mist of the fog danced and hung around the greenery.

  The house itself sat on a large bluff. The view from the large window in the living room was a sea of trees and, off in the distance, the small town that was a couple miles away. The only access to the house was a thin, winding highway that was rarely used.

  “I can help,” he wanted to say. “I can do something! Please don’t make me leave!” His thoughts begged his mouth to move, but all he could do was stare into his father’s fearful eyes. They looked much smaller, and more tired than usual. His father usually wore thick glasses. Jonah had tried them on only once when he found them sitting on the living room coffee table. He put them on and was going to walk into the kitchen to show his father, but everything was so distorted and blurry he found he couldn’t walk through the room.

  The descent down the side of the house stopped for a moment. His father seemed to be judging the distance. “Just a little more. Then run!” His father said in a hushed and hurried tone. He disappeared into the window, and the sheet started to move again.

  The front of the house, the opposite side of where they were now, lit up like daylight. Jonah’s first thought was that the sun might be coming up. But the light was too white, the beaming light too out of place with how dark the rest of the world looked. When he looked straight up, he saw that the light seemed to be carried by the fog, giving the roof of the house an ominous halo that loomed over him.

  A commotion had started in that direction as well. Tires screeching. Car doors slamming. A chorus of shouting voices. They sounded angry, but they were too far away and far too many of them to make out any one word.

  The bed sheet moved faster. His feet slid down the white siding. “There must be something I can do!” He thought furiously. Why wouldn’t his mouth move? It frustrated him. Why couldn’t he stay? All of those thoughts were pushed aside when the gem started glowing.

  The gem was what his father called, his ‘life’s work.’ His father studied it day and night. Looking at it under microscopes or heating it to unimaginable temperatures, or just the opposite, freezing it. Jonah wasn’t allowed in the lab. His father said there were far too many expensive and breakable objects in there. But every now and then, he would sneak
in to see what his father was doing, only to be shooed away.

  The gem was a cylinder that was three-inches long. It came to diamond-fine points on either end. It was completely smooth to the touch and emerald green. His father had let him hold it in his hands only a few times. On those occasions, his father asked him to hold the gem with both hands, look at it, concentrate on it. He didn’t fully understand why. It was just a trinket to him. Sure, when you looked through it, it made the room look green, which was pretty cool. But otherwise it seemed pretty useless. He remembered touching the ends and finding them too sharp. If you applied the slightest pressure, one of the ends might pierce the skin, so he was always careful. It must have been included in the ‘expensive and breakable’ category since it meant so much to his father. So it seemed somewhat of an honor just to participate.

  At one point, his father had fastened a silver chain around one end, so it looked like a necklace. A necklace that was now heavy around his neck as he slid further and further away from his bedroom. And his father.

  He had never seen the gem glow before. That’s what caught his attention. It lit up his red t-shirt and the white bed sheet that was tied around him, casting a green glow.

  He grabbed it, afraid this new light might alert anyone who was on the other side of the house. The temperature of the thing hadn’t changed. He had anticipated at least some heat, like touching a light bulb. But it was still the same smooth object. He tucked it into his t-shirt and wrapped one hand around it, at least dimming the green light to some degree.

  Bam! The loud noise from inside the house sounded like a door exploding off its hinges.

  He fell the last few feet to the ground, landing on all fours. When he hit the grass at the foot of the house, he was welcomed with a far colder and damper feeling. Now his feet and hands were soaked in chilling dew from the grass. The pine needles that seemed to be everywhere in these tree-filled surroundings, both jabbed and tickled his hands and feet.

  His father appeared once again in the window. The chorus of voices was now coming from that window instead of outside the house. The ‘dangerous men’ seemed to try and pry him away from the window. “Jonah, go! Now!” His father yelled. And then his father was torn from the window by these men Jonah didn’t recognize and couldn’t see well.

  He didn’t want to run. He wanted to do something. He wanted to help. But just as those thoughts registered, he found that he was indeed running, moving fast through the back field of long grass and pine needles. Only when he reached the trees did he turn to look back.

  From this distance he could see his bedroom only as a small lit frame in the house. Shadows in the frame struggled against each other. A leg broke out the window he had just escaped from. What were they doing to his father? The curtains over the window came down too, as someone, presumably his father, was slammed against the now open space in the wall.

  The light in that frame of a window went out. And then the house exploded.

  II

  Jonah was sent reeling, the force of the explosion blowing him into the tree trunk behind him. He stood and tried to shake it off. His ears rang as he tried to restore the breath that had been knocked from him. He looked at where his house once stood. Half of it clearly gone, the other half in flames. He screamed as tears welled up and then poured down his face. One foot made its way toward the house. He had to run back to his father. But something stopped him. His father had lowered him out the window to get away from the ‘dangerous men’. If Jonah went back now, he was sure they would still be there. There were probably still more at the front of the house and others who had survived the explosion. He couldn’t stay here in the woods and cry. He had to get to the caves.

  The caves his father had told him to run to were actually part of a larger system that worked their way up and down the bluff and ended in a sharp mountain range many miles further. They were a sandy red color. He liked going on trips to the farthest cave to the west, because there was a waterfall there with a clear blue pool his father would let him swim in. That’s where he headed that night.

  They had walked to the caves quite often. The wilderness surrounding the house was never off limits for Jonah, his father just avoided the nearby town as long as time would permit. Jonah didn’t even have to think about which direction he was running, which was a good thing, since he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on anything at the moment. He just ran.

  As he emerged from the woods, he saw a heavy mist hanging over the pool in front of the waterfall. At any other time, the eerie sight may have frightened him. At the moment, he was already too scared to let even that register by anything but a passing thought.

  He trudged up through the long grass and into the cave. The cave was damp and cold, the floor, colder still. He walked the ten or fifteen feet into the mouth of the cave, past an old camping hammock he had helped his father put together, to a footlocker by the cave wall.

  His dad had brought one footlocker to each of three caves in this area. He had wheeled them here on a dolly, which wasn’t easy to do through the long grass and through the trees by the house. Jonah could never exactly remember what all his father brought on their many trips to the caves. His father always had backpacks full of different things he said he was going to ’put away for safe keeping.’

  The first thing Jonah’s eyes settled on was an old winter coat from last year. He immediately pulled that out and put it on. He rummaged around, past blankets and canned goods, flashlights and packs of batteries, and at the bottom, came upon a pair of boots his father had bought him last year, but had never worn. He pulled them on and immediately relished in the temperature difference.

  He pulled a blanket out and wrapped it around himself and sat on the floor exhausted. He didn’t realize it at the time, but he’d been running on adrenaline and instinct all the way from the house. Now, sitting down and finally warm, everything that had happened to him suddenly caved in all at once and he began to cry. He cried until he fell asleep.

  When he woke the next morning, he found himself curled up next to the footlocker. Hoping it was a dream, he sat up, wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked around, hoping to see his father.

  No. It hadn’t been a dream. He was alone. His father was gone. Lost in an explosion.

  Jonah hauled himself up, went to the mouth of the cave and looked around. The light momentarily stung his eyes. It was a crisp, clear day, without a cloud in the sky. There was a slight, chilling breeze moving though the tall grass. Daylight glistened on the pond to his right. He went back into the cave, fell into the hammock and fell asleep again trying desperately to escape this horrifying reality.

  When he woke, he was hungry. Jonah and his father had long ago discovered that there were fish in the small pond and had spent many days hanging out and fishing. His father always threw back most of the fish, but he made sure Jonah at least knew how to clean and cook a fish. There was a small indent in the cave floor further back, perfect and safe for a very small fire. His father only used sticks and twigs. He often said a small fire was all you needed because if you used logs and made the fire too big, you’d get smoked out of the cave. At the moment, Jonah was simply too drained to even attempt to fish. But he would need a fire if he was going to cook something from one of the cans he had found in the footlocker.

  He cast off the blanket and his coat and went digging through the footlocker. He came up with a pair of jeans, a tan t-shirt with a surfing logo across the chest, and a red sweater. Once dressed, he folded his red t-shirt and the basketball shorts and put them into that footlocker. He debated what to do with the gem. He could put it in the footlocker, but it didn’t actually lock. It had no lock, because his father knew the caves were too distant for most anyone to bother hiking to them, even if they knew the caves were here. Still, he didn’t feel right about leaving it out of his possession, so he stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.

  He walked into the woods on edge. Would all of the ‘dangerous men’ have b
een killed or injured in the explosion? Were some of them still around? Would they be satisfied after killing his father and simply leave? He didn’t know. So he stayed to the edge of the wood and picked up what twigs he could find and broke off small branches he could reach.

  One advantage he could see about the cave was that it was on somewhat higher ground than the woods and anyone going to the cave would have to move through the high grass, so he would certainly see someone coming from the mouth of the cave. He could certainly make an escape to one side of the grass or the other if he saw someone. And then the thought occurred to him.

  His father had planned for this. He knew some day the ‘dangerous men’ would come. That was the reason for different footlockers in different caves. If one cave was found out, there were more things stored in other places. How could he not have figured this out before? He had never asked. He had never thought to. He had just assumed all of this was simply storage. A bizarre storage area to be sure, but hadn’t at least some of the supplies come in handy when they camped out?

  So if his father knew these men and knew they would come, what were they after? Jonah couldn’t be sure.

  His mind reeled and his heart ached and his stomach rumbled.

  After what seemed like several hours walking the perimeter of the woods, he went back to the cave with an armload of sticks and dropped them by the fire pit. He knew his father had put a few newspapers and a torch somewhere in the footlocker because Jonah had seen him make fires here many times. He dug in the footlocker until he found the paper and the torch and took a can of baked beans and the small iron pot.

  His father had never actually let him light the fire before, but he figured he had watched enough times to know. He set a small pile of sticks into the pit and then ripped a few sheets of the newspaper. He balled up the paper and put it in different places in and under the wood. He didn’t know how much paper was needed, so this part was going to have to be trial and error. He touched the torch to one piece of paper and flicked the switch. The fire lapped at the newsprint, but quickly went out. He tried another and got the same result. So, he lit all of the balls of paper in rapid succession. What he got was more smoke than fire. His eyes burned a bit, and he considered abandoning the cave for a while, but through the smoke he could see that a few of the smaller twigs had actually begun to light. After a few minutes, he had succeeded in making a campfire.