The Righteous Path

by Harry Spitzer

The bus was a pale shade of white, once bright enough to blind the eye, that had since lost its luster at the hands of time and the elements. Inside the vehicle 24 boys sat in utter silence, as they had been doing since the bus’ departure nearly half an hour before. Cloaked in white robes, a few stole the occasional surreptitious glance at the others surrounding them, but the majority remained rigidly facing out the windows of the bus. The rain streaming down the windows insulated them from the outside world. On both sides a never-ending haze of green countryside, sporadically interrupted by brownish house shaped blurs, was the only color in sight. The interior of the bus spanned the spectrum of grays. The floor a cool metal, probably steel, that seemed to absorb what little heat the bus retained. The seats a lighter gray leather through which the metal frames jutted out, further adding to the children’s discomfort.

The driver was isolated from his passengers in his own compartment in the front. Behind the driver, placed directly over the entrance to the walkway that spanned the middle of the bus hung the only seemingly brand new object amongst a sea of hand-me-downs. The large wooden Cross had a fresh coat of silver veneer. It reached down from its perch at least a foot off the ceiling, unapologetically announcing its presence to the passengers. Even the shortest of the lot had to duck to avoid collision with the protruding bottom section when entering the bus. The gleaming fresh coat of paint reflected the interior of the bus, watching over its passengers and revealing their slightest movements to the remainder of the group.

One boy sitting near the front, who couldn’t be more than twelve, could be seen in the reflection of the Cross to have his head buried in his arm. The formerly pristine white sleeve of his uniform now had the stains of tears hurriedly wiped away. He noticed the blemish on his robe and quickly shoved his arm behind his back, a maneuver that forced him onto the protruding metal bar sticking out of the front of his seat. He yelped, and then covered his mouth with his unstained hand, praying that nobody around him had noticed his outburst. What he saw out of the corner of his eye confirmed his trepidation; his seatmate, who looked a year or two older than Jonah, was staring at him with a mixture of annoyance and fear. He responded with a look that he hoped conveyed how sorry he was at that moment, before remembering that his eyes must be red from crying. He thought about how unfair it was that his fear had such an obvious physical manifestation. If the others on the bus were feeling similarly terrified, they certainly had better self-control than he.

“Jonah” he mouthed to his companion. The other boy’s look of anger softened.

“Caleb” the other boy reciprocated with a quick smile and returned to his forward facing position.

As he sat there focusing on keeping his eyes dry, Jonah recalled that self-control had never been his strong suit. He thought back to the funeral two weeks before. What remained of his family and the tall suited figures that somebody assured him were friends stood huddled outside in a rain that rivaled that downfall soaking the bus. Perfect, he thought, if anyone sees me crying I can pass it off for rainwater on my face. He stood next to his father, wearing a suit he had never seen until that morning when he found it hanging from his door handle. The suit was an olive green color, and when he tried it on the pant legs stood roughly an inch above his black suede shoes. It smelled as though it had been in an attic somewhere for a few years. A damp attic poorly ventilated and otherwise filled with expired cleaning supplies. The smell made Jonah think that it had endured quite a bit of hardship in its time, and he put it on feeling as though he were wearing an ally in his present misery. The suit understood the pain of aging, loss, neglect and he hoped would thus be able to offer him some guidance in navigating his current dramas. His father purchased the suit for him not because Jonah had ever asked for one, but because a suit is a something for any boy who has parents that know what’s good for him.

He remembered very little of what was said during the funeral. His mother’s sisters shared stories about what she had been like in her youth. The words “full of life” seemed a bit overused. Another man he recognized as a close friend of his fathers delivered a very loud speech. Again, he retained little of the content, just that the man delivering it seemed loud and vaguely angry. And his hands. The loud man’s hands were moving constantly throughout the speech like a general gesticulating to his troops, or someone conducting a frenetic march.

At first Jonah was convinced that the loud man failed to realize that this was a funeral for his mother. Her name was all but absent from his speech. The man talked at length about the power of faith. Those that are faithful, and those that walk in the path of Christ will reach salvation.

“I’ve witnessed her at many crucial crossroads. I introduced her to her husband, I shared her joy at the birth of her son, and now if she has lived a righteous life, she is in better place. She is with Christ.”

When he was younger Jonah could remember his father talking about this Christ with that same reverence. More recently he could recall a number of occasions when his father, angry with his mother, would yell the name at her while Jonah sat in his room, eyes red, trying to focus on reading. These yelling matches were generally the result of something Jonah had done. Things he didn’t understand why they were offensive, like reading certain books his mother had given him or taking Sunday mornings to explore the forest that lay behind his house. His father seemed to take these acts as a personal insult.

Jesus. That was his first name. Jesus Christ, he would yell at his mother, among other things during these outbursts. He seemed to particularly relish shouting that name, as though if he said it enough times and loudly it would help him get his point across. It didn’t work as far as Jonah could tell; his mother would stand her ground and continue to defend Jonah’s actions.

There was something about this loud man that intrigued Jonah. If what he said in his speech was true, he had clearly at one point been close with his mother. Maybe he could shed some light on what his mother was like before she met his father. Once Jonah was positive that his father was occupied in conversation with a pair of middle aged women who looked indignant about the fact that they had been forced to give up their Sundays for this dreary affair, Jonah slipped away in search of the loud man. He spotted him by himself examining his mother’s tombstone.

“I never did quite understand your mother.” He said still facing the tombstone.

“Excuse me?”

“You may be too young to appreciate this, but your mother was a leader among women. People gravitated to her. She had the ability to excite and inspire others with her presence.” He turned to face Jonah.

“She and I and your father were once very close.” He knelt so that he was at eye level with Jonah and put his general’s hand in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture on his shoulder. He gave him a forceful squeeze that nearly made Jonah shout. Control yourself, he thought, you need him to like you if he is going to want to help. He flinched, he hoped imperceptibly, before responding,

“You knew my mother before she and my father married. What was she like? How did the two of you meet?” He asked, returning the loud man’s gaze with what he hoped were not red eyes. The man held eye contact with Jonah as the rain began seeping through his small umbrella, and a few droplets fell on his nose, causing him to blink. The man smiled.

“I was drawn to her because of her faith. She was a woman who knew what kind of life she wanted to live, and who she needed to surround herself with to have it. I was one of those lucky few she let into her inner circle.” Jonah understood very little of what the loud man was saying. As far as Jonah knew, his mother had no close friends in the area.

“I’m sorry, but my mother never told me about you. Why wouldn’t she if the two of you were so close?” he said, beginning to doubt this loud man’s credibility. Anger was beginning to overpower his sadness, and he felt tears coming back to his eyes. He no longer thought this man could help him.

“We were once close, but haven’t been for years. I sincerely cared for your mother, and hope that I can help you to follow the path that I know your mother would have wanted you on.” He said with a smirk that gave Jonah an urge to smack it off his face. Jonah restrained himself. The man returned to standing. “I have to say my farewells to your father. I do hope to see you again soon, Jonah.”

That had been just over two weeks ago. And already the loud man was getting his wish. Jonah had boarded the bus in the early hours of the morning with the moon full in the sky. His father had clutched his shoulders telling him that this experience would be good for him. That it would’ve made his mother happy. That this was the righteous thing to do. His father asked just before Jonah boarded the bus if he remembered the loud man from his mother’s funeral.

“Yes” He responded. Locking eyes with his father for the first time since the funeral.

“He’s an old friend of mine. And he will look out for you while you’re away from home. Let me tell you, he was overjoyed to hear that I was finally sending you to camp.”

“He’ll be there?” The thought magnified Jonah’s apprehension. “Dad, I don’t think I want to go. Can I please stay home for the summer? I’ll help with any chores around the house, I’ll stay out of your way, I just –”

“Jonah, this is something you need to do. I’ve wanted you to do this for years and its only now that there’s nothing and no one stopping you from going. I’m proud of you for doing this, now go, the bus is waiting.” With an abrupt pat on his back, his father turned from Jonah and began walking back to his truck leaving Jonah with no other option than to board the grey vehicle. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to never lay eyes on his father again.

Jonah could see reflected in the glinting Cross a boy sitting in the third row on the right hand side of the bus. He was easily the largest occupant of the vehicle. He was among the few who sat facing forward. His mouth betrayed no emotion but eyes showed the excitement he felt. His pupils were dilated so that his bright blue irises were barely visible. Every so often his hands unclasped from his lap to run themselves through his buzz cut hair, as though he had not quite adjusted to its reduced length. He would do this until he caught his reflection in the Cross and returned to a neutral position. The other passengers may not have been there for all he was concerned. Whereas the majority of those around him looked anxious to arrive at their destination, he appeared as calm as though he were simply taking a weekend drive to the beach.

Jonah’s father had told him that at this camp he would not only learn faith, but also to fight for this faith. This boy seemed to be eager for the fighting portion, and given his size the perfect candidate for this “camp”. Jonah self-consciously examined his biceps, wondering how he would fare in a fight against this boy. He was strong for his slight size. And fast. His Sundays spent exploring the woods behind his house had given him a knack for climbing and navigating rough terrain. He was fairly confident that if this camp forced him against this boy to defend his faith, and face from being pummeled, that he could avoid him about as easily as the low hanging branches of a tree.

When you return you’ll be a warrior, they’ve assured me of that, his father had said. You’ll be able to fight anybody that questions your faith. The blue-eyed boy was prepared for what awaited them at their destination, Jonah thought. He returned to staring out the rain-blurred window of the bus.

His mother’s deep blue eyes watched him as she would read, facing Jonah as he lay in his bed trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep. She had read the book to him enough times that she rarely glanced down at the page, instead focusing her eyes on his exhausted face. The book, The Adventurous Angelfish, was about a school of fish that lived near the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Jonah had never been out of his state, much less out of the country. He loved imagining the aquatic plants and coral reef in the Australian sea and what it would be like to swim in the underwater forest. The fish in the story would always travel in a pack. When they went to school, when they ate meals, and even when they slept they were together as a group. They were a unit with a single mind, except for one, who didn’t understand why they always had to do everything together. There were times when this angelfish wanted to eat when they simply wanted to swim. He also wanted to explore the depths of the ocean while they wanted to stay in the shallow safety of the reef.

One day, he told the school that he wouldn’t swim with them that day, and instead he would investigate what lay beyond the drop off at the edge of the reef. All of the other angelfish told him he was crazy, that there was nothing they could ever possibly need outside of their coral home. This angelfish knew that he needed to see for himself, so he set off towards the drop off, assuring his friends and family that he’d be alright. When he reached the edge he saw to his horror a dark cloud of pollution moving steadily towards his home. He swam back as quickly as he could, telling all the other angelfish of the approaching danger. They didn’t believe him until he managed to convince them to swim as a school just close enough to the cloud to witness its approach. Upon seeing the cloud, the angelfish scattered, until the lone adventurous fish managed to rally them together as a school and lead them to safety. From that day forward, the angelfish always trusted his instinct to explore what the depths of the ocean had in store for him.

His mother’s voice would lull him to a comfortable sleep; the last image in his mind before going under most nights would be her blues eyes fixed upon his. He never wanted to stop staring into them, but was comforted in closing his eyes by the knowledge that they would continue to watch him as he fell asleep. Even when she fell sick and was forced to bed rest, he would often bring a mattress into her hospice room and she would use her remote control to push her bed to an upright position and read him a story or two. He too had memorized the stories, and in the final stages of her illnesses would read them to her as she had with him, focusing upon her pale sunken face instead of the colorful pages of the story. He hoped that she took comfort in the fact that she knew his eyes watched her as she went under.

The bus hit a large pothole in the road, sending a puddle of muddy water splashing over his window. He could see other children around him shaking their heads, also being awoken from their respective daydreaming. The landscape outside his window appeared different than it had for a while. Instead of the blur of green hurling past, there was now a wall of brown. He assumed they had entered a forest. Judging by the increased bumpiness of their drive, he could also assume that this road was not paved. They were now certainly off the beaten path. The continuous tumbling of the bus over the off-road trail began to make him queasy. The only thing worse than crying in front of this group would be vomiting. He had had a weak stomach for as long as he could remember. It didn’t help that his father drove his truck with little regard for speed limits or the notion of staying within a single lane at a time. He remembered a year or so before his mother passed away, a certain long drive they had taken as a family to Nashville to visit one of his mother’s sisters. She must’ve known that she was sick. That was the only reason Jonah could think of that they would embark on an eight hour drive in the full heat of summer to visit a relative that he had never heard his mother say a single positive thing about. During the drive his mother referred to her sister as a ‘zealot’ and ‘religious fanatic’ words that he hadn’t heard before, but that he understood to mean crazy.

“What you now call fanaticism was once what you believed in.” His father yelled back. “Your sister may have the sense in the family, she at least has faith. You once had faith too.”

“Yes, I was once a lamb blindly following the path of a smooth talking, misleading idiot of a shepherd.” Jonah sat in the back seat of the truck with one hand clutching his stomach and his eyes averted out the window. The sound of his parents bickering was nothing new to him, but it still contributed to the already severe feeling of nausea the ride was giving him. Their voices were louder and higher pitched than during their usual arguments. This one seemed different, as though they were both finally releasing words they had been bottling up inside that could no longer remain below the surface.

“I married you thinking that we believed in the same things. I started a family with you because I believed that we would all follow in God’s righteous path together. You used to share that goal with me, we used to be on the same page. And he,” he said with a jerk of his head to the back seat “is no more of a believer than you are. You’ve shielded him from any sort of faith for years. I blame you.”

“He deserves the chance to form his own opinions, I won’t let him be brainwashed by your friend at that camp. Not as long as I’m around.”

“Well then I guess we’re lucky that that won’t – ” his father cut his statement short and put his foot on the gas pedal. His mother snapped to face his father, eyes wide, before turning to stare at Jonah in the backseat. Tears were welling up in the corners of her blue eyes. Jonah held her gaze for a few seconds, before rolling down the window and vomiting out the side of the truck.

He wanted to get a clearer view of his surroundings but was hesitant to open the window. The other boys would surely notice when the rain somehow managed to get inside the bus. But he might be able to pull his window up just a crack, enough to get a glimpse of where he was without anyone, with the exception of Caleb, or the Cross, noticing. Feeling a burst of inspiration he nudged his seatmate and moved his index finger to his mouth. Caleb’s eyes narrowed and he began to move his mouth as though it were wired shut keeping him from protesting. Jonah immediately regretted his impulse to trust him and swiftly returned to his previous position with his nose resting on the cool glass of the window. He started as he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over to see Caleb give a quick almost imperceptible nod coinciding with a bump in the road.

Rolling up the sleeves of his robe to avoid getting them wet, Jonah carefully pressed the two levers at the base of the window towards the center. They resisted, stuck in place from years without use, and almost certainly rusted shut. He tried again, this time leveraging his elbows against his seat back and the seat in front of him. He could hear the strain creak of rusty metal upon metal as the levers finally slid towards the center. He nearly yelled from joy but caught himself. No one had noticed. With the levers still center, he slowly lifted the base of the window half an inch.

Drops of water began streaming down the side of the bus below his window. He would have to make this quick. Lowering his eyes to the opening, he peered outside. He had been correct. They were driving through a forest. The trees were densely packed to the point that very little sky was visible overhead. This provided some protection from the downpour and made what had already been a gloomy day appear as though it was nighttime. Judging by the state of the road, he guessed that it lead to one destination only, and was frequented exclusively by similar busses.

When he was seven years old, he remembered going camping alone with his mother in Bennett Spring State Park. His father had passed on the trip. Nature wasn’t his thing, and anyways he could use some much-deserved relaxation time he had said when his mother asked if he wanted to join. It would be just the two of them. They dug out their tiny two-person tent from the storage shed, which they had to repack and strap to his mother’s camping backpack. Also in her backpack they put flashlights, a map and compass, rain gear, one change of clothing each, and sleeping bags. He had enjoyed sitting on the top of the gear to squeeze everything inside. They stuffed food enough for two days in a small backpack to be worn by Jonah and packed all of their supplies in the back of the truck.

Jonah had always loved the outdoors, and was eager to go on his first overnight camping trip. His mother had given him numerous books on wilderness survival, how to know which plants were safe to eat and which would give you diarrhea. He had of course reviewed them all in preparation for the trip. Nothing was going to ruin this expedition, especially not getting sick from eating Colchicum autumnale, commonly known as autumn rocus, or meadow saffron. The fact that his father wasn’t coming only further contributed to his excitement. As they pulled up to the entrance of the national park, they were waived to the side by a park ranger.

“Ma’am, are you aware that we are expecting heavy rains tonight and tomorrow?”

“I wasn’t. But we did pack rain gear just in case.” She replied.

“I would strongly advise against an overnight camping trip in the park tonight, especially not with a small child.” He gestured towards Jonah without looking in his direction.

“He is really so excited to go camping for the first time though. We’ve been planning this for quite some time. We just drove all the way from Springfield!” Her voice caught as she said the last word, as if holding back a sob. The ranger seemed to notice this and responded.

“Well, you’ll have to take extra rain protection that I can provide you. And a radio to call for help if it’s needed. Please don’t travel outside a three mile radius of this entrance Ma’am, and do be careful. You two have fun.” He said directing the last part at Jonah.

And they did. It poured all night on their tent, thoroughly soaking their sleeping bags and making it impossible to sleep. So they didn’t. They stayed up all night huddled under their tarp telling stories, laughing, eating their Nutrigrain bars and Trail Mix. Just as the sun began to poke its head over the horizon, his mother turned to Jonah and said,

“Honey, you know that I will always love you and do everything in my power to protect you from the bad people out there. You need to know that.” She said, her blue eyes locked with his.

“I want you to make sure that you don’t let others decide what is right and what is wrong for you. You need to figure that out for yourself. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” He responded, looking away. Truth be told, he understood very little of what she said or where it all was coming from. But he could tell that she needed to be reassured that he had in fact fully understood the significance behind her words.

“I understand mom. Don’t worry.”

The storm outside seemed to be letting up. He could hear the sound of the rain on the leaves lessening. The density of the forest also appeared to be decreasing. He could now see through his window crack a steep hill in the distance that they were about to summit. The bus accelerated in anticipation of the incline. As they sped up, Jonah had a premonition that they were nearing their destination. Soon he would be in the loud man’s army general hands. His father had said that this experience would help him find his faith. That it would make him a warrior. Jonah knew in that moment that wherever he was going was not a community that he wanted to be a part of. He felt nothing of this faith that his father so adamantly wanted him to feel. He wouldn’t be forced to fight for something he didn’t believe. He needed to figure out a means of escape. He needed to –

“SHIT!” The blue-eyed hulk in the third row swore as the bus came to a screeching stop, the Cross in the front of the bus swinging on its hinges. Jonah could see the driver turning the keys in his separate compartment as the engine shut off. The driver exited his seat and crossed around to the rear right hand side of the vehicle opposite Jonah. For the first time since he boarded the bus, a buzz of chatter began to fill the air. Confused boys all around him were taking the opportunity to examine their surroundings and figure out why they had stopped.

It’s now or never, he thought to himself. He turned to Caleb.

“We have to do something to get out of here. We have to figure out a plan right now while the bus driver is distracted.” He said.

“We’re in the middle of a forest Jonah. We haven’t passed any houses for at least an hour, and who knows how far away the nearest people are? What are you going to do, jump out the window? They’ll catch you and then you’ll be much worse off than if you just stay.”

Jump out the window. That was exactly what he needed to do.

“Caleb, I have to get out of here. I know that wherever we’re going is not something that I want to be a part of. This is my choice. If you’re coming we have to go now.” The look in his eyes told Caleb that he was serious.

“I can’t go with you, but I’ll try my best to distract them if you’re following through with this ridiculous plan.” Despite the danger of the situation, Caleb’s mouth was beginning to warm into a grin.

“Thank you.” Jonah said. He peered over the top of his seat to confirm that the driver was still tinkering with the bus’ engine. He was. Caleb had stood and begun walking towards the back of the bus asking why the hell they weren’t moving. Jonah again forced the rusted opening levers of the window towards the center and this time lifted it to its full height. A number of other boys started to watch him curiously, but looked unwilling to take any action. This is it, he told himself. Go. NOW.

He hurtled himself face first through the window, his shoulder painfully bracing his fall on the gravel road. The stinging didn’t go away as he sat up, and he noticed that a red circle had begun to form on his white robe where he had landed. He brought himself quickly to his feet, noticing that the bus had begun to emit shouts in his direction. He took one final look behind him, at the faces in the pale white bus, at the glinting of the Cross still swinging slightly in the front, at the driver who had finally realized the cause of the commotion and was desperately scrambling for his cell phone, at Caleb, no longer able to divert their attention from him.

He turned to face the forest and set off at a run without another backwards glance.