Amber by Dan-Dwayne Spencer (e book reader .TXT) 📕

“Where do we go from here?” Flower asked.

Roger pointed at an open field. “Let’s see where those people are coming from.” There, in the open field, a line of hippies walked toward us. “They’ve been there. I’m sure of it. That’s the direction we need to take.”

We walked for a while; the hippies meeting us like congested two-way traffic on the highway. We greeted them and walked on until we found an encampment where dozens of hippies had set up tents. They were selling everything from candles, T-shirts, and even brownies. Roger wanted a brownie. It had been at least an hour and a half since he’d eaten breakfast; or had it been longer? I didn’t know for sure. I wanted a T-shirt with the word Woodstock on it. Flower found a vendor for herbs and made several purchases too.

After visiting the tent shops, we topped another hill. From there we could barely hear the music. It sounded like a single screaming guitar playing something similar to The Star-Spangled Banner—if it had been written while Francis Scott Key was on acid. People were congregated in sparse groups all over the hillside. Some were dancing and some were sitting staring at the sky. A purple haze, and a slight smell of burned rope mixed with Eau de Skunk, hovered over the landscape.

I turned to Flower. She wasn’t there. I looked back. She was dancing with a bearded hippy. She moved her feet in an unusual pattern, taking a step forward, and repeated the motion. It was beautiful, almost like a ceremonial dance from a foreign country. For the briefest moment, we made eye contact, and I felt her joy. Happiness like I’ve never known before bubbled over inside of me.

I hurried to catch up to the rest as they topped the next hill. From there we could see everything. It was exactly what I expected to find on the last day of the concert. It felt better than good—it felt perfect. Groups of hippies sparsely covering a vast meadow that stretched across several rolling hills and a tiny stage, so very far away the musicians looked like rock star figurines. The line of people leaving congested the path behind us, and yet so many kids were still here. It took my breath away to think what it had been like that first day; the day we stood in the Serve-U and made plans to run away.

“This is what we were so excited to get to?” Roger complained. A bit tipsy, he staggered sideways. “I can barely hear the music and look, there’s no hope of getting close to the stage.”

Jimmy said, “It’s not at all what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?” I asked.

“I thought we would at least be able to get closer to the musicians,” Jimmy said, “and that the people would be… Hell, I don’t know. Just not this.”

“It’s everything I thought it would be.” I thought for a moment. “Except, I had heard it was raining here. Yes, I expected rain.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the clouds covered the sky and the rain fell like a deluge.

“Thanks, Arland, the prophet,” Roger fussed. “Next time call a ham sandwich into existence, will ya?”

“You think I did this?” Everyone turned to look at me. Even Flower came up the hill and stared.

Stoney said, “Yes. You might not have meant to, but you made it rain by the command of the prophet.”

“Nobody has power over the weather,” I said. “Not me. No one.”

Flower stomped up by me. “This pouring rain came on suddenly. Almost like—” She turned to stare at me. “Arland, you didn’t.” her tone accusing, and for the first time since I’ve met her, judgmental.

Jimmy stretched and reached his hands outward, breathing the moist air into his lungs. “It’s not so bad. Since when did getting wet hurt anyone?”

Someone called me by name. It came from the direction of the staging area. I strained to see who it was, and the rain stopped as suddenly as it started. The sun appeared from behind the clouds, casting light on the concert-goers below.

There, I heard it again. It was a woman’s voice. “Hey, guys over here.” We looked across the meadow crowded with more people than I ever remember being in one place, and there in the far distance was a girl waving her hand in the air trying to catch our attention. For a mere second, again the sun went behind a cloud, casting a shadow on her.

The hair on the back of my neck raised, and a shiver ran down my spine at the mere thought it might be the Nymph Calypso, but when the cloud passed, I could clearly see the face was wrong—recognition washed over me like a flood. I knew the face. Without a doubt, it was Rose. I stood dumbstruck.

“Who waved?” Stoney asked.

“It’s Rose. I know it is,” Jimmy replied, jumping and waving his hand.

I couldn’t believe it. The odds of finding Rose here at the concert were about the same as me overhearing Jimmy and the Sheriff talking in the meadow, without the aid of the angel Reuwel. Strangely, my fears vanished. Seeing her made me so glad. I couldn’t even remember why it had worried me.

“Come up here, Rose,” I called. In the next instant, she was standing beside me.

Jimmy threw his arms around her neck. “I was so worried. Some kid told us you had been kidnapped.”

“What? Me, kidnapped? I don’t think so,” Rose’s tone was cold.

“Didn’t I see you in a cell at the County Animal Shelter?” I asked.

“Not me. Arland, you’re mistaken.” Rose’s words sounded hollow. “I knew you guys would come this way, so I left before you.”

Jimmy looked sad. “Why? Why did you leave without me?”

“I wanted to