M.A. Kleen

Twenty-five years ago, I self-published The River of Rain, a philosophical exploration of freedom, human nature, and the modern world. To mark its anniversary, I’m releasing a fully revised edition, one chapter every Wednesday. This is the novel as it was meant to be.

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Victor walked along the river for quite some time, the young woman cradled in his arms. The river ran beside a steep incline that rose nearly forty feet above the water. After a while the cliff broke away, giving way to a crescent-shaped inlet carved into the rock. At its far end a small waterfall spilled down the stone, the patient force that had hollowed out this quiet enclave over thousands of years.

The ground softened beneath his boots, damp with fresh sediment, silt, and sand. A narrow stream trickled from the small pool beneath the falls and wound its way toward the river. As Victor stepped forward, he noticed fresh animal tracks pressed into the mud around the water’s edge.

Ingram swooped in overhead and landed on a fallen tree, screeching several times.

I’ve got a problem, Victor thought.

The only way into the small but deep cave he called home was to climb a slick wall of limestone that formed a ledge a couple of feet above the ground. It took both hands to make the climb, and at the moment both of his arms were full of an unconscious girl.

He stood there a while, thinking it through.

At last he lowered her gently to the ground beside the place where the stream met the pool. He would build a fire and wait for her to wake.

That, at least, was something he could do.

Soon a fire crackled brightly in the hollow, smoke and sparks spiraling upward through the nearly round opening formed by the walls of the inlet. Victor sat on the opposite side of the flames from the girl, eating a fish he had just cooked.

He studied her dirty, bruised face, trying to imagine what she might have looked like before. He also wondered what he would do with her once she woke.

He couldn’t keep her here. She might leave and tell others about his sanctuary. It had happened before. A few weary travelers had stumbled upon this place over the years, and Victor had been forced to deal with them.

Then another thought crept in.

None of the girls back where he came from had ever even wanted to talk to him. What made him think this one would be any different?

Still, he stared into the fire and wondered.

What else could he do?

The first thing Ariana heard when she woke was the crackling of a fire. It was loud, sharp in the stillness. Heat touched her face. Or was it cold? She couldn’t make sense of it, and the confusion irritated her.

She tried to open her eyes. They burned, and her vision blurred the moment she did. After blinking several times the haze began to clear. She saw the fire first, glowing and alive in front of her. Across from it sat the strange outline of a person.

Then the pain arrived. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. Her whole body throbbed, but her arms and legs hurt the worst. A groan slipped from her mouth before she could stop it.

Whoever that person was, they knew she was awake now.

Victor had been staring out across the pool toward the waterfall. He often spent hours watching it, the water endlessly pouring down the rock. The firelight flickered across the limestone walls and reflected off the surface of the pool, casting an eerie, shifting glow around the hollow.

A long time had passed since he arrived. Night had settled over the woods.

He had decided to stay awake until the girl came to. Even if it meant waiting until the small hours of the morning. To pass the time he had caught and cooked a few fish. He was eating one of them now. Ingram, true to form, had vanished somewhere to sleep.

Then he heard a moan.

Victor froze.

He listened carefully, searching with every sense for where the sound had come from. For a moment it seemed distant, almost imagined.

Then he remembered the girl. Movement caught the corner of his eye. Victor snapped his head around.

She was awake.

“Where am I?” Ariana choked out. “Ugh… my head.”

She rolled onto her hands and tried to push herself upright. The effort only half succeeded. She ended up kneeling, most of her weight resting on her arms. The sand beneath her bare legs felt slick and unpleasant.

Then she realized how filthy she was. She touched her face and felt dried grime, along with the rough edges of small cuts. “Oh my God, I’m yucky!” she cried. “Where am I?”

The man across the fire laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded. “Where are the others?”

The laughter stopped.

“What others?”

“The others that were on the bus with me, you idiot!” Ariana shouted. Her voice rang against the stone walls. Her head throbbed as if it might split open, and hunger twisted in her stomach.

Victor recoiled at the insult. Just like the others, he thought. He wondered if people had any sense of how their words landed.

Without another word he jumped to his feet and strode straight past her toward the cave and his rough bed. He decided he would go to sleep and deal with her in the morning.

Then she spoke again. “Please come back,” she said, her voice suddenly softer. “I’m hungry.”

Victor stopped and turned to face her. “Now you’re hungry,” he said bitterly. “But a minute ago I was just an idiot.”

He spat the words and stomped over to where the last fish still cooked over the coals.

“Here,” Victor said, thrusting it toward her. “Good night.” Then he turned and disappeared into the cave.

Ariana held the steaming fish in both hands and took small bites. She could barely taste it through the fog of hunger and the tears that kept spilling down her face. Why are people always so mean to me? she wondered.

She tried to remember how she had ended up here, but her mind was blank. The only thing she could recall was the pain… and the screams that still echoed somewhere in the back of her head.