by Aborn, A. L.
In the third week of August, it rains steadily for three days. Beau doesn’t seem to mind, but Meekah and I spend the time in the opening of the shelter, sitting on my sleeping bag. When pawing through the same old books gets boring, one of the smaller hunting knives is good for whittling. I don’t know what I’m doing but attempting to bring a face or animal out of a small chunk of wood is gratifying and time consuming.
The third day of rain leaves me irritable. While the rain has certainly cut through the humidity, falling behind in all of my chores and eating from my cache of food is disheartening. I suppose the water is good for my little garden; I don’t need to bucket water from the stream, but I’m bored and grumpy all the same.
Not all of the seedlings survived being transplanted into the garden, but most did. Of those that survived, I can identify six corn stalks, three tomato plants, four sets of cucumber leaves, and two measly sprouts bearing string beans. I’ve never grown corn before, so I’m not sure what to expect or when to harvest, but I’m thinking sometime around fall seems right. The tomatoes, cucumbers, and beans though are coming along nicely. One section of one of the books goes over home canning, which I may use to preserve the vegetables that I won’t be able to eat before they go bad. I’m excited at the thought of adding to my winter food supplies, but nervous that I don’t have new lids for the jars from Marie’s home cooking. No use worrying though, what else is there to do but try?
***
The last week of August is beautiful. After the rains stopped, everything seems shiny and new. The worst of the humidity appears to be in the past, which makes our daily chores that much easier to complete. The nights are cooling down and sleep comes more naturally.
Resuming our previous schedule of chores and fishing in the morning followed by further scouting of the area until the sun starts to set feels good. I’m in no rush for winter’s cold, but I’m glad to have, hopefully, seen the last of the real summer heat.
One morning, camp chores complete, we head up the stream to the larger pool to cast a few lines. On my first cast, I catch the largest trout I have all summer. It must be at least a pound! Thrilled, I clean it on the rocks by the water and head back to camp. Adding some spices, I roast it over a low fire before Meekah and I wolf it down for breakfast. It’s a clear and beautiful day; ordinarily I would have thrown a fish that size over my smoker, but I’m eager to get out and about, instead of tending to a fire all day.
Deciding to turn out further than before, the three of us wind our way through the woods until we reach the edge of a large field. I’m not sure what it was used to grow before this, but for now, waist high grass greets me. Probably five miles from camp, a whole field of food for Beau! I can easily harvest this! I can’t believe it! A big trout and this field all in one morning!
Letting Beau happily munch away, Meekah and I continue to amble along the edge of the field where two old ruts shows where a tractor used to work this land. It’s nice to not have to push branches out of my face but being on the edge of such an open area does leave me feeling exposed. Carefully holding my gun to appease my anxiety, we make our way to the opposite end of the field. There, the two tractor ruts join with a larger trail, which I believe are the remnants of old railroad tracks.
The tracks are bordered on either side by a thick layer of trees, but through them, I see yet another field. Excitedly wandering along the border of the second field, tall grass to my left and another thick hedge of trees to my right, the end of the field becomes more visible. The trees open up, but to what, I’m not sure.
A minute or two later, the unmistakable sound of rushing water meets my ears. A river? Here?
The riverbank is steep and gray with clay. There is an area where I think I can make my way down to the edge of the water to fish. I bet I’d have better luck here than in that little stream and pool!
I can’t hide the grin on my face. Today is turning out to be a wonderful day full of surprises.
I am a bit confused though. I must have gotten turned around somewhere, because I would have sworn that the river was in the opposite direction. Either way, I’ll just be careful on my back to the clearing and mark my trail so that I can return tomorrow. Unable to hide my happiness, I smile as we head back toward the distant field where Beau is grazing.
Along the way, blackberry bushes line the path on the right. I missed them on the way in because of the path I took. Stopping to fill my bag full of the sweet treat, I don’t hear the warning signs until it’s almost too late.
Rustling in the brush followed by a soft snort…
My mind only processes them in the background. It’s not until the snort grows louder, into a sort of roar, that I look up. A black bear, standing on hind legs, is growling at me. Or… roaring at me, I don’t know which.
Taking a slow step back from the trail I had previously been following, I softly call Meekah to my side. She ignores me, staring at the bear square on, the fur on her back standing on end.
“Meekah,” I hiss, begging desperately for her to ignore the bear and return to my side. “Meekah, come!” I say the words half-heartedly, like I don’t expect her to obey.
“Meekah! Come here!” I say the words louder than before, pleading with her to come back to me and out of the potentially deadly black bear’s line of fire.
Inch by inch, she backs up to my position.
Grateful heaves of relief echo through my chest, in pace with my thundering pulse. When she’s close enough, I slip my fingers through her collar at the nape of her neck and, ever so slowly, drag her backwards with me. As we continue to retreat, the bear hunches down on four legs and, eventually, starts back the way he came.
I could have shot the bear, but what if I missed? What if it only pissed him off? Also, the thought of killing an animal unnecessarily leaves me cringing.
Funny how the same thought process never occurred to me when I’ve taken the lives of humans.
Confident that the bear is gone, Meekah and I retreat to the first field. Thank God Beau is still munching away. Finding a rock that I can climb, I swing up on the handsome brown horse’s back; I haven’t been riding him much, but I’m eager to get back to camp. I’m unsettled by the bear and want the safety of the familiarity of the clearing.
***
That night, after we fill our bellies, I decide to hike up the back of the mountain just before dusk. It isn’t too far from the camp and I need the advantage of the view to figure out how I got turned around earlier. Months have passed since I last climbed to this point; I haven’t wanted the reminders of childhood hikes and high school parties.
Those things are in the past and I am all about the now.
Beau stayed behind in a little group of trees at the base of the road before the steeper climb over rocks. When Meekah and I finally reach the vantage point of the mountain top, I feel both sad and afraid. In the distance, the center of town should be just visible. Before the power went out, you would see the glow of the gas stations and other businesses. But now… there’s just darkness. Here and there, I can see the twinkle of what must be fires. They are far from the clearing… but… they’re there. There are people in town.
What would it be like, to slip my arms through my backpack and Meekah’s leash and just arrive in town? Would they be kind to me? Tie me up? Kill me? Rape me? Take everything that I have left of my old life? Or would they offer to accept me into another small community? Like Marie and Eugene?
It’s shaming to admit, even to myself, that I don’t know which scenario would be more terrifying. At least if they attacked me from the get-go, they’d be upfront about it. But if I went to live with them, I’d be living in fear of when things would go wrong; of when the next time the shit hits the fan and its every man, or in this case, woman for herself.
Shuddering at my mental vision of a future that I pray never comes to pass, I try to push it away and focus on why I made this climb in the first place.
In the last light of day, the first sign
s of stars showing above me, I can just make out the patchwork quilt of fields and forest below me. Using a small stick, I scrape a rough map in the sandy dirt. The clearing, the mountain house, and town are easy to pinpoint, the fields and river that I had visited earlier in the day are added in as I compare my morning path to the vista around me. It seems as though I simply went in a different direction than I had planned, but the thought fills me with shame.
How will I ever survive through the winter if I can’t even take a walk without getting lost? How can I expect to survive if I let my guard down long enough to lollygag through the woods like I’m taking a Sunday stroll?
I shake my head in disgust as I turn away from the view and head back to camp.
Chapter Ten
A September Surprise
The days are quickly passing toward autumn; the earth around me changing by the day. My little seedlings that I feared were hopeless have sprouted vegetables that I can harvest and eat.
The evening of September first finds Meekah and me sitting atop a small, grassy hill. Before us, we can see the fields that I harvest for grass each day for Beau. The sun is setting behind the far landscape of trees and distant mountains. We are sharing a cold meal of hardboiled eggs and berries that I gathered along the way. Beau crops peacefully in the field below us.
Singing softly to interrupt the silence, I keep my hands busy between bites by attempting to weave dried grass together into a sort of mat. I hope to hang the mat inside the shelter door to help keep the cold out when winter is at its worst. So far, it’s going okay, but it looks like a long braid of grass, waiting to take shape in my hands.
Abruptly, a whiff of campfire smoke awakes my busy subconscious.
Where could that be coming from?
Looking around frantically, like I expect the fire to materialize in front of me, the smell grows stronger. I can’t see a hint of a fire anywhere. Shoving the last half of an egg into my mouth, I quickly pack the braided grass into my bag. Meekah senses my alarm, sticking close to my side. Whistling softly, I get Beau’s attention, but after a moment’s hesitation, he goes back to grazing. Fucking horse. I hope that whoever has built the fire isn’t close enough to see us.
Trudging down the incline, I find myself looking over both shoulders for any sign of the intruders. I have claimed all of these lands as my own; scouting, foraging, and essentially, watching over them, these lands have become mine, even if I’m the only one that knows it.
Reaching Beau at the base of the hill, the smell of smoke grows stronger.
The line of woods is maybe a hundred yards from where Beau is standing. Internally debating, I decide that I can’t go back to camp without locating the potential threat. Warily leading him to the edge of the woods, the horse’s lead rope is easily looped around a tree. I can’t have him slowing me down or betraying me to whoever might be out there.
Pulling Meekah’s leash out of my pack, it clips to her collar with a small click. She needs to stay close, no matter what we find. Almost as an afterthought, I drop my backpack at the foot of the trees.
Stepping carefully between the trunks, the darkness masks my way. Avoiding broken tree limbs, it seems that the crusty undergrowth is just as loud. From earlier explorations, I know that this stretch of trees is narrow, separating the field I just left and another. The short black silhouette beside me is not so quiet; a slow rumble of a growl starts to echo in her throat as we draw closer to the other side of the tree line.
Ahead, I can just make out the orange flicker of flames against the darkening night. Positioning myself behind a large tree, the fire, a tent, and two people are just visible in the light cast by the fire. One hundred feet away, the details are fuzzy.
They both look to have short hair, though longer hair could be hidden by hats. One is larger, broad in the shoulder, and tending the fire and a small animal roasting on a spit. The other is smaller, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Absorbed in conversation, neither turns back to look at the forest or any noises we may have made.
There aren’t any weapons laying around, but anything could be hidden in the darkness.
Fingering my rifle, I contemplate taking them both out from here. If I can shoot the first one, I don’t believe the other would be able to see me, not after their eyes have been used to the fire. I could take the other, before they even knew what hit them.
Snugging the gun in close to my right shoulder, I squeeze it tight, to brace for the kickback. The trigger is smooth under my forefinger. As I aim carefully for the head of the larger one, a little voice in my head whispers to me, “You could just slip away.”
Lowering my gun, I can hear nothing but the sound of my breath in my chest: in and out, in and out.
What am I doing? They don’t seem like a threat.
I’m miles from camp. Just leave!
Trusting my gut, I start to turn away, planning to gather Meekah and Beau and head back toward camp. A loud growl interrupts my focus.
Looking over my shoulder, I can see that both heads have swiveled toward us, searching for the sound.
Oh, fuck.
Meekah’s growl continues, despite my squatting and urgent pats, pleading with her to be silent.
The larger one rises, a gun now visible in her hands. Back and forth, she sweeps the woods with the barrel searching for her prey.
Holding my breath, Meekah finally ceases her throaty growls.
The two have split from the fire, now each holding a gun leveled at the forest. One calls, “Who’s there?”
A woman’s voice.
One mumbles to the other, I can only assume it’s a hush order.
As I much prefer to be the one holding the gun, I take a step back through the trees, dragging Meek with me. It seems as though we’ll be successful in our retreat, one step at a time. As my right foot moves behind me, a branch snaps under my weight. Freezing, my breath stops in my chest.
Both guns swing in my general direction. I know they can’t see me, but if they fire their guns in my direction, I’ll be dead whether they know I’m there or not.
A shrill bark rings out through the trees from beside me.
Damn’t Meekah!
Roughly grabbing her muzzle, I try in vain to keep her from giving away our location, but the two are already homing in on us.
As they draw nearer, I hear the tell-tale sound of a gun cocking.
“Wait!” I call, before things can get any worse. “Please, don’t shoot!”
Terror is spiraling through me; how did this happen? I came here in control, to scope out the situation. And now… now… I’m one move away from a bullet.
Holding up one hand, I drag Meekah through the trees with the other until we are in sight of the two strangers. They’re both women. I can only hope that this works in my favor. Stepping out from underneath the trees, each of them eyes me in turn.
They are both dark haired, both cut short. Though each are leveling a gun at my chest, the larger one looks far more comfortable than the smaller. “Please, don’t shoot,” I beg. “It’s just my dog and me. We were looking around for some food when we smelled your fire.”
A painfully silent moment passes before the larger one answers me.
“It’s pretty late to be looking for food.” She pauses. “You look well fed to me. You got a camp nearby?”
“Not really,” I respond. I’m going to have to lie my ass off to get them to believe I’m not a threat. “My camp is that way,” I nod in the opposite direction, “It’s about five miles away. We haven’t taken anyone in for a while though.”
“Then why did you come from that way?” the larger one probes.
“I was out scouting, I’m just on my way back.”
“It doesn’t look like you got anything,” she snaps back.
“I didn’t find anything,” I say.
The smaller one turns her face, and I can just make out her features in the distant firelight. She looks to be in her forties and looking to the other for guidan
ce. The larger meets her eyes before turning back to me. “And what would you be looking for, this late in the woods?”
“Big game,” I ramble off.
The larger one doesn’t seem to believe me. “How many people are in your camp? How many scouting?”
“J- Just me,” I stammer. “There are only a handful left in my camp. We got raided a week or so back.” No answer greets my response. “Please, don’t hurt us.”
“Like we’d hurt a dog!” The smaller one exclaims, lowering her gun and squatting to extend a hand towards my dog. The traitorous bitch leans a nose out to the unfamiliar hand, gently wagging her tail.
I watch her stroke my dog and decide that maybe, that one can’t be all that bad.
“Joann, stand up,” The larger demands. Almost regretfully, Joann gives Meekah a final pat before standing up. “Take her gun.”
“Shay, loosen up. If you were going to shoot her, you already would have. If she was going to shoot us, she could have done it from the trees before we even knew she was there.” Despite her words, Joann steps closer to me and pulls my rifle strap over my head. What can I do, except let her?
The larger one, Shay, doesn’t move at Joann’s words. The narrow barrel of the gun is still aimed at my chest from mere feet away. “She’s right. I only came to check out the source of the fire. I don’t want anything from you but to be allowed to be on my way.” My voice is shaky in the silence.
Shay’s dark eyes, even in the near darkness of the evening, bore into me mercilessly. The rustling of leaves and the snap of a stick from behind me in the trees causes all three of us to jump. Shifting her gun from my chest to the trees, I see Joann mimic her stance.
“Wait!”
My shout startles them almost as much as the sound coming from behind me.
“Don’t shoot!”