Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  The door abruptly squeaks open as Tal and Bentley fall over each other in a rush, trying to be first inside the house. Eric follows, a smile still on his face, and I blush as he meets my eyes.

  “Alright boys, that’s enough. Wash your hands, and let’s eat,” Eric instructs gently.

  Watching them jostle one another at the sink, I give up on attempting to create peace and order, instead resigning myself to the seat at the end of the table. The lid to the jar of elderberry jam sticks a little, but I eventually get it open and place a spoon into the rich, purple jam. The boys take their seats hurriedly and immediately lunge for the food.

  “Nope! Hands down,” Eric commands, taking his seat. “What are you grateful for, Tal?”

  Sighing, Tal slumps back into his seat. “I am grateful for a deer skin so I can make new shoes.”

  Eric nods. “And you Bentley?”

  “I am grateful for a sunny day so I can charge my reading light,” he says.

  “How many times are you going to read that book?” Tal scoffs under his breath.

  “I’m making my own, I’m not reading that one again,” Bentley shoots back, his eyes flashing.

  “You’re making your own book?” I ask.

  “I just started,” he answers, clearly trying to downplay it. “I found a box of paper in the storage shed.”

  “I think it’s great,” I comment, shooting a pointed look in Tal’s direction. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s just a field journal. I’m keeping track of the arsenic levels in all of the water samples we test,” he says casually, scooping jam onto his chapati bread.

  My jaw drops in surprise, and Eric beats me to my next question. “Since when are you testing arsenic levels?” he asks. “This area is detoxified.”

  “No, it’s the perfect way to assess water pollution,” Tal explains, speaking quickly. “Even if this area was detoxified at some point, there are certain places that have higher levels of contamination, which means there has to be some source that is continuing to alter the soil chemistry. The most likely culprit is groundwater. And we need those counts to assess if our system is working.”

  “Should we be worried about our water supply?” Eric asks, looking genuinely concerned.

  “No,” Bentley assures us. “I test the well regularly and it’s always below dangerous levels. Arsenic is commonly occurring in the earth’s crust, so it’s not like we can avoid it completely.”

  “Can we eat already?” Tal asks, annoyed.

  I meet Eric’s sidelong glance and suppress a smile, dishing up greens onto my plate as a distraction.

  “Yes,” I say, “dig in.”

  The boys gratefully lean forward and fill their plates. The next few moments are blissfully lacking in commentary, filled only with the sound of clinking, chewing, and swallowing.

  “Can you pass me the water, Tal?” Bentley asks.

  “Please,” I correct, and he mimics me in an especially silly voice, causing everyone to laugh. Dinnertime is pleasant here. It’s not a means to an end like it used to be, rather a moment to be enjoyed. A time to be present.

  Our kids’ choice of hobby is foreign to me, and I’m not convinced that it’s actually leading anywhere useful, but I can’t help but get a kick out of their enthusiasm. I am constantly shocked by what I don’t know and what they do.

  Sensing that they are finishing up, I break the silence. “I’m definitely going to make the soap tonight since I’ll have access to the burners, so please bring in your herbs as soon as you finish.”

  “I’ll trim the lavender, you get the sage, okay Bent?” Tal instructs, his mouth still full of food. Their arms move quickly, obviously attempting to salvage as much after-dinner time as possible before bed.

  Bentley nods. “Then meet back at the lab?”

  Tal sends him a thumbs up as his dishes clatter on the counter and he scoots out the door.

  Chapter 96

  Tal and Bentley are off hunting pheasants while Eric and I put in the next planting. My shovel sinks pleasantly into the rich compost, and I lift pile after pile into the empty wheelbarrow. When it’s full, I push it over to the potatoes, mixing the compost into the tilled soil before heaping another layer around the tall, leggy shoots. Incredibly, these mounds will be nearly four feet high by the time we need to harvest.

  Eric is kneeling nearby, carefully laying the carrot and radish seeds into neat rows. It looks like it’s going to rain later this afternoon, so the seeds should get a quick, solid start. To my right, I notice a few bright green seedlings emerging from the soil, and a grin creeps across my face.

  “What are you so happy about?” Eric asks, amused.

  “My lettuce re-seeded itself and it’s already sprouting,” I say, childlike energy bubbling up in my chest. “Can you believe that? I love watching things grow.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he chuckles. “If you’re finished with the potatoes, would you mind starting on the beets?”

  “Sure,” I say, moving to the next section of the garden and turning it over with my trowel. A sound catches my attention, and I sit up on my knees, my head pointed in the general direction of the noise. Though I can barely hear them, I eventually see two small figures running toward us from the woods. Eric, noticing my concern, follows my gaze.

  “What are they doing back so soon?” he questions under his breath, lifting to his feet.

  “They seem to be worked up about something,” I comment, continuing to stare.

  A few moments later, when they are finally within earshot, we are able to understand what they’ve been yelling from the tree line.

  “We saw something!” Bentley shouts and Tal—though out of breath—reiterates his brothers’ concern through wide, troubled eyes.

  Eric motions for them to calm down, and they both double over in the grass near our feet.

  “Breathe for a minute, then you can tell us,” I instruct, growing more concerned by the look of their flushed faces and the lack of pheasant.

  “We saw something,” Bentley repeats, his voice a normal volume, but still gasping for breath.

  “We understood that much,” Eric says, “but what do you mean by ‘something’?”

  “A person,” Tal says, still sucking in air as he rolls to his side. “There was someone in the trees.”

  Eric and I freeze, both of us searching the boys’ expressions.

  After collecting his thoughts, Eric asks calmly, “You saw a person?”

  “Yes! They were in the trees watching us,” Tal explains, exasperated by our obvious lack of understanding.

  “Describe them,” I command, my brows furrowing and mind racing. Who could possibly be out this far? Is someone in Tier 1 attempting to keep tabs on us? But why? It would make no sense to waste human resources like that.

  “We were walking past, and I saw eyes inside of the bush—” Bentley starts.

  “Wait, you only saw eyes?” I cut in.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “How do you know it wasn’t an animal?” Eric asks.

  “Dad, they were not animal eyes. And besides, what animal would have large eyes that are colored, not brown? I haven’t ever seen green eyes on a wild creature, have you?”

  I think for a moment. “No,” I admit, “I don’t think I have.”

  “So what happened next?” Eric prods.

  “We stared at each other for a moment, then I said ‘Who are you?’ and the eyes got wide, then disappeared. I ran around the bush, trying to find the person they belonged to, but they were gone. Then we rushed back here to tell you guys.”

  I am flummoxed. What—or who—could this possibly be? My brain circles to the same possibility of someone from Tier 1 here to observe, but then again rejects that conclusion. It is much more likely that the boys misunderstood what they saw...but I don’t want to be the one to accuse them or kill their story.

  “Can you take us there?” I offer instead. Perhaps we will find animal tracks, or other evidence that wi
ll put this to rest.

  The boys immediately turn on their heels and beckon for us to follow them. I gently place the package of seeds in my hand on a flat stone, then run after them, trying to keep up. Eric, walking next to me, takes hold of my hand and leans in.

  “It had to be an animal, right?”

  “I don’t see how it could have been anything else. Though I am anxious regardless. If they thought it was a human eye, it must have been large. And so close to them…” I shudder.

  “I know,” Eric says, his voice low.

  We walk in silence, but the tension in Eric’s hand communicates everything I need to know. We are both reliving that moment from last summer. Hearing Bentley’s shriek from the field, a sound so foreign that it pierced me with terror before I even knew what had caused it. Running through the grass to find Tal with an axe raised high over his head, his arms shaking with adrenaline. The mountain lion hissing and spitting, ears lowered against its head. Bentley. Eyes closed, lying on the ground. Blood soaking through his shirt.

  I blink, focusing on the grass in front of me to force those images to recede from my conscious brain. That remains the singular incident requiring us to break into our emergency medical supplies since we have been here. Had Nick not been available that night on his sensor, who knows if we would have been able to patch Bent up properly. They are fine, I remind myself, refocusing on their ruffled heads in front of me.

  “Here!” Tal shouts, pointing into the thicket ahead of him. Eric carefully pushes into the underbrush, stepping lightly and inspecting the ground. Bentley stands close to me, and I put my arm around his shoulder.

  “Well,” Eric says finally, “I don’t see anything. No footprints, no broken branches, nothing.” His face appears above the shrubs, and he begins to extricate himself, displacing branches of goldenrod as he moves toward us. “The ground is actually quite soft back there, so I’m surprised there aren’t any prints. Though, if an animal stepped in just the right spots, they might miss the bare mud,” he concludes, brushing his hands on his pants. “Sorry guys, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

  “It was a person, Dad. Probably really smart if they didn’t leave prints,” Tal huffs.

  “We aren’t saying you’re wrong, Tal, just that it’s very unlikely,” I explain. He nods—but makes it clear that he isn’t in agreement—and we start back toward the house.

  Later that night, after tucking the boys into bed, Eric and I escape to the yard to watch the stars. While there wasn’t an inordinate amount of light pollution in Tier 1, the sky certainly didn’t ever look like this. I immediately search for my favorite star—a bright, warm blinking light in the northeastern sky. It comforts me to see it there night after night, reminding me that we are somehow a part of something much, much bigger.

  Eric sighs as we settle into the hammock together—yet another product of the boys’ creativity, handiwork, and engineering. Instead of wasting the old fishing supplies, pieces of fabric, and hide that weren’t utilized in other, more important projects, this hammock was born. Initially, I was wary about it holding our weight combined, but Eric seemed to think it was sound, and he was right. I snuggle close to his chest, enjoying the warmth from his body in the cool night air.

  “I think you should accompany the boys when they hunt,” I say softly.

  “I’ve thought about it. I know we’ve become complacent...but at the same time, it’s sometimes a practical reality that they have to go on their own.”

  “Do you really think there are times where you couldn’t go along?”

  “During planting and harvest it will certainly cut our time short.”

  “True,” I admit. “But if there’s nobody to plant and harvest for…”

  “Kate, the chances—”

  “I know. I’m being dramatic. That just scared me,” I whisper.

  He pulls me closer and I can feel his chest, rising and falling with his breath.

  “I’ll go with them from now on.”

  Chapter 97

  “Mom, don’t do that,” Tal complains, jumping as I enter the shed.

  “Sorry, it wasn’t my intention to startle you,” I apologize, laughing under my breath at his terrified expression. Bentley and Tal are hovered over a series of tubes and beakers, intently focused.

  “Any luck?” I ask, moving toward them.

  “Shhh,” Bentley instructs and I attempt to be silent in my approach. Watching from a slight distance, I observe Bentley adding something to the test tube on his right—the liquid settles and then begins to trickle into a series of containers connected to a significantly larger receptacle. Once it drains, both boys relax and begin cleaning up the work station.

  “Can I talk now?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Bentley answers matter-of-factly, wiping up excess liquid with a cloth.

  “What did you try this time?”

  “Tal made a solution—I think it’s too complex to describe,” he explains.

  “Too complex? As in, you don’t think I can understand it?”

  Bent grins sheepishly, but doesn’t give any more information.

  “Well, at least I know your opinion of my intelligence,” I tease. “Do you think it will be successful this time around?”

  “Of course I think it could work, otherwise I wouldn’t have tried it,” Tal says.

  “Alright, alright!” I say, holding up my hands in defeat. “I’m just trying to learn more about what you’re doing,” I sigh, moving toward the door.

  “Mom, sorry,” Tal calls, running after me and pulling on my arm. “It’s just frustrating because we’ve run so many trials and still haven’t found the winning combination. One day, our water is going to run out, and if we—”

  “Wait,” I cut him off, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Do you somehow feel responsible for creating a clean water supply for us? Is that why you are always out here working on this?” I ask, incredulous.

  Tal and Bentley both nod, their expressions deadly serious.

  “Guys, no,” I respond, my body deflating as I pull them close. “Dad and I are responsible for making sure that we have enough. You don’t need to hold that burden. We love watching you experiment, but in no way do we expect you to solve this problem. Of course, we absolutely believe you’re fully capable of doing so, but we don’t expect it. We have enough filtration supplies to last for a long, long time—”

  Tal cuts in, “But even you said that those filtration tabs don’t actually get everything out. We’re still constantly being exposed to contaminants, which means we’re going to be susceptible to DNA damage. We don’t want you and Dad—”

  “Tal, Dad and I have been exposed our whole lives. While I do believe that if that exposure were halted, we would definitely see some benefits, I don’t think they would be life-altering at this point.”

  “But for me and Tal…” Bentley muses.

  “Sure, yes. For you and Tal, I’m sure it would make a significant difference. But so would a lot of things! We can’t live our lives constantly worried or disappointed that we haven’t progressed past a certain point. We have to learn to be grateful for where we are—accept any potential consequences—and then do all we can to improve. There’s no magical, elusive endpoint. We just keep moving forward.”

  Tal nods, but I’m not sure whether he agrees with the sentiment or not.

  “Did Nick get in trouble for putting this equipment in our supplies?” Bentley asks softly, and it takes me off-guard.

  “I—I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “It doesn’t seem like lab equipment would be necessary for survival,” he argues.

  “No, definitely not,” I agree. “I guess I never questioned whether he had clearance for that or not, I just assumed it was on his list of conditions, but—”

  Bentley shrugs—obviously done with the conversation—and walks past me, letting in a burst of sunshine as he passes through the door. Tal laughs at his abrupt exit and my disoriented e
xpression at being cut-off mid-thought.

  “I’ll try not to worry about the water,” he agrees, then pats my back and follows his brother into the light.

  The rain moves in swiftly that evening, hitting the tin roof with force, the noise almost deafening. The rise in humidity chills me, and I find myself putting the boys to bed dressed in nearly three full layers of clothes. I lie between them, holding their hands, and listening to the cacophony above us. Moments like these remind me how delicate life really is. The natural flow of this planet is powerful, yet somehow—in the day-to-day hum-drum—I convince myself that I’m above it. Arbitrarily separate and immune. The pelting drops strike an ancient chord within me, appropriately realigning my prideful assessment of my own importance. Slowly, the storm begins to calm, and the thundering above us lessens. When it becomes a soft pitter-patter, Bentley turns his head.

  “Mom, what will I do when I grow up?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, buying myself time to think of an answer.

  “Well, I can’t really pair and have a family, right? There isn’t anyone to pair with. What will Tal and I do?”

  I shift my head to look at Tal who is already breathing deeply. Letting go of his hand, I roll to the side so I can look him in the eyes.

  “Bud...I wish I had a good answer for you,” I murmur, gently brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “The truth is, Dad and I...we don’t really know what the future holds for any of us. Our goal was to be together again, but we didn’t really think beyond that. We didn’t get the chance to. Everything moved so fast, and nothing was within our control.”

  His eyes are wide, reflecting the dim light that enters from the hallway. “Do you think we’ll ever see Beth and Leah again?”

  My stomach clenches, and I have to physically remind myself to breathe. “I—I wish I could say yes, Bent, but…” He reaches for me and my eyes sting as his arms wrap around my neck, squeezing me tightly.