The Orion Plan Read Free Page B

passing out, there might be some dregs at the bottom. He turned to his box, wondering if he’d hidden the bottle inside, and his heart sank. It had been a truly excellent refrigerator box, new and sturdy—he’d found it behind the appliance store on 207th Street—but now it was a flattened wreck. Its cardboard sides were bent and bowed so much they’d never stand up straight again. The cause of the disaster lay on top of the ruined box: a fair-sized tree branch, at least four feet long and two inches thick. It must’ve fallen from the oak. Joe shook his head as he stared at it. He was lucky to get away with just a bloody nose. That thing could’ve killed him.
    As he looked around he saw an even bigger branch lying in the mud a few yards away. Leaves were scattered across the slab he was leaning against, and in the light from the quarter moon he saw more severed branches farther up the slope. The hillside was littered with them. Joe thought that maybe a storm had blown through the park and knocked down the branches, but there wasn’t even a breath of wind now. He tilted his head up, looking for storm clouds in the night sky, and that’s when he noticed it: a ragged hole in the treetops, marked by branches that had been torn off or were hanging by a thread. It was so eerie Joe wondered if he was hallucinating. It looked like God Almighty Himself had stretched his hand down from heaven and plunged it through the trees.
    Joe shivered. It was no hallucination. He stared at the hole in the treetops, but it didn’t fade away. He wanted to hide, to crawl back inside his box. God was reaching for him, but not to comfort him or raise him up to heaven. The Lord was going to punish him for his terrible sins.
    His breath came fast, in painful rasps. He clawed his hands through the mud, groping for something he could use to defend himself—a shard of glass, a heavy rock. Then he coughed and the woods swirled around him again, and when they finally came to rest he realized how stupid he was. There was no Lord in heaven. He’d stopped believing in God more than twenty years ago, when he was still in college, long before he came to New York. His faith was the first of many things he’d tossed aside. And now that he’d given up so much—his job, his home, his family, his dignity—was he going to start believing in God again? No, that would be ridiculous. He was a drunk but not a fool.
    After a few minutes his breathing slowed. His head was clearer now and he’d stopped shivering. He didn’t believe in God, but what was that hole doing there? Joe craned his neck, eyeing the branches scattered across the ground. They formed a trail that led uphill, past the slab behind him and another outcrop above it. If something had truly come down from heaven—a fallen angel, a bolt of lightning, the fearsome hand of the Lord—maybe he’d see some sign of it at the end of the trail. It was probably a waste of time, but he didn’t have any other pressing business to attend to. And Joe wanted to be sure. He needed to be sure.
    He stood up, slowly and carefully. His head swam and his legs wobbled but he was all right. He wasn’t too buzzed to take a little stroll. He lifted his right foot and climbed onto the slab, which was flat and smooth. Leaning forward, he trudged across the slanting rock and stepped into the mud on the other side. Finding his footing was tricky in the dark, but he could handle it. He’d learned how to navigate the woods during his first few weeks of sleeping there. That was just one of the many new skills he’d picked up.
    Getting past the next outcrop was more difficult. This slab was ten feet high, so Joe had to clamber around it, digging his fingers into the cracks in the rock to pull himself up the slope. It was hazardous and exhausting and he had to stop a couple of times to catch his breath. Although he hated to admit it, he was in