Chapter 10

    
   When Elijah finally regained consciousness, he had a massive headache, and his lips were starting to crack. He felt nauseous. He wasn't sure if it was from the lack of food and water, or the fever from the infection he had in his face. There was also the possibility it was from the pound of blackberries he ate a few hours ago. Elijah just lay there now, not even attempting to pick off the bugs crawling through his hair and over his skin, but rather, praying for death to come quickly.

   Lying there, he noticed a sound that was growing in intensity every few moments...shaking the ground...thunder! It was thundering, and that meant rain!! He got up and started moving toward a nearby clearing where he remembered seeing several hardwood trees with large, broad, leaves. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was going to get as much of the rainwater as possible. He knew that his very life depended on it. He doubted he would get enough to offset the dehydration that was setting in, and it promised to get worse as the blackberries began moving through him. He just needed to get as much water as possible. Any little bit would help. He had never known a thirst like this. He felt as though he had been crawling through the hot, rocky desert of southern Israel, under the brutal sun, and then, instead of drinking water, he felt as though he had drug his tongue across the scorched, dry, gritty earth. It was a horrible feeling, and his body was suffering.

   He took off both of his shoes, hoping to catch at least some water with them. He also dug a small hole in the ground directly where he pictured that the water running off the leaves would land, and then took off his shirt and laid it in the depression. His hope was that water might pool in there, being absorbed by his shirt before being sucked into the ground. He was desperate, willing to do anything.

Twenty minutes later, the rain came, and with a vengeance. Elijah cried, because he realized God was sending him a gift. It came in torrents. Elijah stood out there, stripped his clothes off, and bathed in the streaming water. It was an amazing feeling, like bathing his body in liquid sunshine. The rain rinsed his hair and face of the dirt and bugs that were congregating there, and gave him a sense of revival and hope. He kept wringing his clothes and sucking every drop of water that came from them, continually praying for more, and that's exactly what he got - more and more and more. There he stood, naked in the middle of a clearing, lighning flashing overhead and finally clean for the first time in days.

   The thunderstorm was brief, but it was enough to recharge his severely-depleted batteries. He was able to get a couple good drinks of water from his shoes, plus sucking on his water-drenched clothes made his tongue feel better. With a renewed spirit, he put his shoes back on, but simply carried his clothes as he walked off in search of water run-off from the surrounding hills and ridges.

***

    Jason Barlow had been with the Crag Rats based out of Hood River, (the oldest mountain search and rescue team in the United States), for about eight months, after serving as an Army Ranger for eight years. Originally from a large farm in Iowa, he fell in love with the northwest after training with the Ranger's 2^nd Battalion, located at Fort Lewis, Washington. He had never seen so many towering trees, or breathed air so fresh and clean. He knew that he would move to this area as soon as his enlistment was up, so when he heard about the volunteer opportunity with the Crag Rats, he jumped at it. With his background as a Ranger with extensive survival and navigation training; combined with his strong body, quick mind, and easy-going personality, he was a shoe-in for the team. He found that life with this group was similar to the military life that he loved, without the long and frequent deployments to unheard-of countries all over the world. They always carried their cell phone, always prepared to spring into action the moment a call comes in of someone lost or injured in the mountains. There's a plethora of variables that spring into play when the call goes out to find a hiker, or to pull someone off a mountain, and there's little time to go over any developments that may affect a rescue, such as wildfires, avalanche dangers on the mountains, or weather. They quickly assimilate that data so that they can focus their attention and energy on getting to those who may be hanging onto life by a thread. Every call elicits a major adrenaline rush, but Jason had no idea that his life would soon be changed forever.

***

   “Kids, I want you to get your stuff together to go camping. We are taking Elijah's parents up to where we saw him.”

   “Dad, what if we can't find him, or he's....well, dead?” Mike wasn't sure if he should bring Eric and Micah and subject them the horrors of seeing Elijah again, alive or dead. He decided that they had a vested interest in seeing Elijah be reunited with his family, regardless of his condition. They were 'standing in the gap' for Elijah, a Christian way of saying that they are constantly praying for him. Mike felt as though they should be involved in rescuing Elijah. There is a life lesson here for his kids he thought. Life isn't all about us, it's about how we impact the lives around us. Mike's pastor often says that our life is about being “God's hands extended” to those in need around us. That's what Mike really wants to impart to Eric and Micah today.

“Well, Eric...I guess that's the chance we have to take, but if we don't go out there, or if we delay, the chances of us getting to him before he dies are reduced significantly. Let's reunite him with his family, guys.”

“Yeah!” Micah yelled as she ran around the house gathering the things she thought she would need. She was excited to go back out there and go on this adventure with her dad and brother.

   Eric looked a little puzzled. “Dad, how long are we going to be there? How many nights? How much stuff do I bring?” He stuffed his North Face day pack with pants, shirts, socks and underwear and a light jacket. He grabbed a ball cap and his Bible and declared himself ready. Micah also said she's ready as she slings her backpack over her shoulder. Mike put on his best smile for the kids. He wanted to exude confidence, but he was almost nauseous from anxiety. He sure didn't want to see that boy dead, but more importantly, he didn't want his kids to see him dead, either. “Please God, shield my children from anything bad over the next couple days. Don't let them see Elijah dead.”

   God heard that prayer, and would indeed answer it. Mike didn't realize that it would be much worse for his kids than he could possibly imagine.

***

    Summertime in Oregon is notoriously hot and dry, particularly in central and eastern Oregon. The danger of wild fires is always on the minds of the ranchers and other townspeople that live east of the Cascades. These huge and intense fires are God's way of cleansing the land, burning off the old and making way for new growth. Every year there are literally dozens, if not hundreds of wildfires; and most are started by lightning strikes. They tend to burn themselves out without posing any danger to lives or property, but occasionally one will blow up out of control, or threaten someone's property. As Jason climbed through the brush on his way down to the river he thought aloud, “My God it's dry this year. If we have a fire, it'll be a bad one. There's so much fuel here.” Dust kicked up around his feet with every step. Jason had never seen a wild fire up close, but he would soon be closer than he could ever imagine.

   Jason made his way onto the rocks along the bank of the Deschutes River and set his pole and tackle box down and sat on the huge rock about 5 feet from the wild water. Trout fishing was his passion-actually, Jason is game for any type of fishing. He kept his pole and tackle in his truck, and has been known to just pull over when seeing a river or a lake and throw out a line. This is his favorite spot, just south of Maupin. The air is clean yet hot, and it's rare that you come out here and don't run into deer, elk, or a bald eagle on the wing. Jason strips off his shirt, revealing a thick, muscular body with a deep purple scar on his right side where an enemy bullet found it's mark. Luckily, it was off-center and passed right through, missing his liver and kidney by a couple inches. He peels off his shoes and rigs up his line, preparing for an afternoon of battle with his favorite adversary these days.

   Jason Barlow was a warrior with a warrior's spirit. A man is either born with it or without it. The Army Rangers simply take that spirit, often unknown to the individual, and develop it into something fearless and unshakable. He has looked into the eyes of his enemy in Iraq and killed with his bare hands because he was too close to shoot. Putting a well-placed bullet down range that finds its mark is one thing, but causing another man's life to end with your bare hands and with focused rage is something entirely different. Jason comes here for the quiet and to silence the demons. As he threw the line out into the rapids of the churning water, he was thankful that he came back alive, but he often struggled with why he survived while so many of his closest friends died. Sometimes, late at night while lying in his bed, he thinks they got the better deal.

   Jason was never a religious guy, nor has he ever been to church; but he was sure there was no god after experiencing the horrors of war. He'd been invited a few times to a church in his neighborhood, but had always  found excuses to get out of it. “Religion is for the weak, opium for the masses,” he always liked to say. Jason figured that at the end of the day, he's responsible for how his life turns out, instead of giving up control to a 'higher power.' Besides, if God is supposed to be a 'loving' God, why would He ever allow the atrocities that he witnessed? It just didn't make sense to him, so he never spent too much time thinking about it. He figured his time is better spent chasing the fish. “Here fishy, fishy, fishy....”