Ethan joined his laughter. “I guess so.”
“Well, come and warm yourself by the fire, son. You must be near frozen solid.”
“Just about.” Ethan’s senses perked up at the smells surrounding him of sweet burning pine and roasting venison.
Sam saw Ethan’s mouth watering and the ravenous look in his eyes. “I suppose you’re hungry too.”
“Cold bread and greens can only do so much to help that.”
“Well, you’re right there. Go on and dish up, then.”
The two ate in silence for a while. Ethan wasn’t sure what to say to this man who had somehow become his father, yet whom he hardly knew. Neither seemed bent on conversation, and yet there were questions hanging in the air.
Ethan finally broke the silence as he fixed himself another plateful of venison. “You’ve been out here a long time, Sam. Weeks. Are you planning on coming back home?”
“Does Zacharias know you’re out here, son?”
“Yeah, I told him I was going before he left to go to the Senate. He was going to try to find someone for me to stay with. I told him I’d rather come after you.”
“And he let you?”
“He couldn’t have stopped me. I’m not a little kid, Sam.”
“Oh, you’re not? You could have fooled me.” Sam tried to control his grin.
“I was on my own before I met you. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can.” Sam knew how resilient children could be, how resourceful when survival was on the line.
“Tell me about the Senate, Sam.”
“Well, long ago when the country stretched from one ocean to another, the people of Before had a president and a Senate of people they elected to vote on laws for their country. After the Disaster, everything changed. People were dying in all of the storms and earthquakes, and starving, fighting over food and water. The government enforced martial law, where the army was in charge. When everything settled down, and new villages had been formed, the few leaders that were left created the Triumvirate of a president, vice president, and general of the army who were appointed instead of elected. They made new laws and kept a form of martial law with the Corsairs. But they allowed the people to elect one senator to represent each remaining village. They meet twice a year to discuss issues and make or change some laws for the villages.”
“And Zacharias is a senator?”
“He is. Because he is one of the Old Ones from Before, people respect and look up to him. He has a lot he can teach us.”
“Do you think he would teach me to read?”
“He taught me, so I don’t see why not.”
Ethan wanted to learn all the things Zacharias and Sam had to teach him. He knew there was an entire world of things he didn’t understand, and more than anything he wanted to understand. After a few moments he asked his question again of Sam. “So, are you? Coming back, I mean.”
“I am.”
“You about done with what you had to figure out?”
“Did Z tell you to ask me that?”
“Nah, I just sort of knew.”
That night as they lay on their pallets near the fire, Ethan again worried about Sam’s stability. He’d learned to read the signs of distress in other people. He’d had to. Living in the wild and coming across all kinds of people, he had to be able to determine very quickly if someone was friend or foe, sane or insane, well or unwell. Whether they would be a help to him or someone he needed to help. He had learned to read a variety of signs to answer these questions. And everything he saw in Sam showed what the past weeks had taken out of him. “You gonna be okay back home?”
“What do you mean, son?”
“Without Gemma.” Ethan always went straight to the point. He saw no value in wasting time or words in diplomacy or tact, and wouldn’t have known how to use those tools if he had found them valuable. He had the straightforwardness of a much younger child with the insight sometimes of an adult.
Sam looked directly up at the clear night sky as he answered. “Have you noticed how the moon is in a different part of the sky every night?”
“I suppose so.”
“Why do you think that is?”
Ethan shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Sam sat up before he continued. From under a nearby pine tree, he retrieved two small pinecones, one smaller than the other. With them, he demonstrated. “The moon circles the earth, and the earth also spins like this.” He spun the pinecone on the ground, then picked it up again to circle around the other pinecone. “I think people are like that sometimes. We keep circling around each other, meeting people over and over as we circle through their lives, but always in different parts of their sky. I guess that’s what happened with me and Gemma. She’s just in a different part of my sky now. It takes time for things to change—it doesn’t happen overnight. Like a caterpillar in a cocoon or the earth making its yearly revolutions, causing season changes. It all takes time.”
“But will you be okay?”
“In time.”
“It’s hard, though, isn’t it?” Ethan now looked up toward the full moon resting not completely still on the blanket of darkness. “Hard when someone you love isn’t there anymore.”
Sam reached over and tousled the boy’s dark locks. He maneuvered between being awed by his wisdom and surprised by his innocence.
“It can be, but though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. That’s a bit of poetry, written ages ago that Zacharias used to quote to us. It means no matter what, no matter how dark it may seem sometimes, there’s always even a little bit of light to help you find your way.” He pulled the boy in close for a hug before they both lay down again, looking in different parts of the sky for their own personal stars.
5
SURVIVING
A s she rubs her eyes against the morning sun, Gemma instinctively throws her arm out, reaching for the bag she knows will be there. She pulls it open to find several days’ worth of food and water. Every morning as sure as the sun rises, her bag is always packed this way, but not by her. She never asks the boys. They’d deny it anyway. But she thinks it must be Kyle placing the food there, always thinking ahead in case they get separated. It’s what she likes about him, his reliability in an unreliable world. She knows Sam is protective of her, thinks Kyle is hard, and doesn’t completely trust him. But the needs of survival sometimes have to cut the wait times on trust. Lying on the hard and frozen earth, she holds the bag close and is comforted by the predictable offering.
There had been a time in Gemma’s life when she had liked the wintertime. She had found it fun to see the first snow, and to try to figure out all the animals that had passed by based on their tracks. Her heart had thrilled with the biting sensation of the cold air in her lungs and all around her. But as she trudged up the hill to Zacharias’ house and over fields pregnant with snowdrifts, under a sky hovering like a gray ghost over her head, she felt trapped by the cold rather than exhilarated. And yet she smiled in spite of herself at the three-line triangle tracks of a tiny robin that had passed this way before her.
Walking in without knocking, Gemma thought she would find Zacharias in the front room, reading in front of the fire. But the fire was low and he was nowhere to be seen. She started cleaning up here and there the way she used to, feeling the guilt of neglecting her duties in the past months for the more pressing matters of the Watch and Daisy. So many people seemed to be depending on her, and she worried she was not up to the tasks ahead. She needed Sam and hated the need within her. But seven years had not made it less. She still needed his calm and stability, his comfort and care. She hadn’t joined the Watch until after he left, but she was sure he would have joined with her. She had held a small hope of finding him here with Zacharias so she could at least see him again, maybe help him understand.
“What are you doing back in my kitchen?” Gemma heard Z’s mockingly gruff voice
behind her.
“Just picking up where I left off. Sorry I haven’t been around lately.”
“You think I can’t take care of myself?”
“I’m sure of it,” she laughed, holding up a hammer she’d found in the sink.
“Did you walk over here in the snow? It’s too cold for that.”
“I’m fine,” she replied, still working over a week’s worth of dishes. “But it feels like it’s been winter forever. I wish it would go faster.”
Zacharias gave her a small caress before settling himself at the kitchen table to shell the black-eyed peas for his dinner.
“Going faster isn’t always better. You know,” he began with a sigh, “we were all moving so fast Before, it was impossible for the world to keep up. Faster and faster in transportation, in information. Nothing was ever fast enough. We didn’t have the chance to really see things like we do now that it’s slowed down. The earth will keep its rhythm, its seasons. We cannot force it to spin faster on its axis. And soon it will demand of us that we slow down, find again our natural pace. Take time to ponder, be forced to wait. Plant when planting is called for, harvest only after the plants have found their full measure of potential. If only we were so patient with other people.” He looked slowly over his shoulder at Gemma, who had stopped her cleaning to listen to him.
“That’s very poetic.” She paused and was quiet a few moments before continuing. “Where’s Sam?” She finally cut to the subject of both their hearts.
“He’s out trying to forget you. As you should try to forget him, or at least the place he held in your heart.”
“We can’t really forget people. I’m worried about him, Z. I never meant to hurt him that way, and I just want to make sure . . .”
“You can’t be the one to help him anymore, Gemma. He has to learn to help himself.”
“Z, I still . . .”
“I know. I know you do. You always took care of him, so you think that’s still what you are supposed to do. But hard as it is, you have to realize your love can’t do anything but hurt him now because your heart is no longer solely yours to give. Is it?”
Gemma looked down at the floor, pulling the dish towel between her hands.
“Just leave him be. Let him find his own way. He’s stronger than I think you really gave him credit for.”
“You don’t know what it is to love someone and then let them go only to have them return.”
“You act as if I wasn’t the one who was here with you those seven years, as if I’m not the one who told you to move on and let him go just like I had to let my Jesse go.”
“And what would you have done if she’d come back?”
“What wouldn’t I have done to have that happen? You know what she was to me, maybe even more than Sam knows. I loved her more than my life. And if she came back to find me married to someone else, I’d be devastated, just like you are. But that doesn’t change the situation you’re in. You still have to let him go again.”
“I know.”
Gemma turned back to the dishes, trying to force her mind into other avenues not populated with images of Sam. Her hands moved slowly at her task as if she were carrying added weight. After a minute or so, she realized she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled slowly, trying to release the unwanted feelings within her. But she knew they would not leave until they were finished with her. So instead, she covered them as she would cover herself with a heavy winter coat. “Let’s change the subject, huh? Tell me about the Senate. You just got back, right?”
“Oh, the Senate. What is there to really tell? We met. We tried to pass new laws, tried to lessen the grip of the Triumvirate. But the Reader of the Law was there, of course, ready to smack down any initiative we had.”
“It’s so insulting that the government insists on having a Reader of the Law, rather than just giving us a copy of the laws. It’s probably just so they can change the laws at will.” She huffed in frustration. “How are they justifying the added troops?”
“As a response to ‘subversive revolutionary activities’ as usual.”
“What were the issues on the table?”
“First, we were trying to eliminate the need to present identification when entering the town square and only when going to a different town. Second, we wanted to eliminate the blood test required at adoptions. We were hoping that they were just policies and not actual laws. But there’s no way of knowing until we try to pass our resolutions.”
“But the Reader said . . .”
“Citizens wishing to adopt children must first submit to a blood test for both parent and child to determine if the parents are living registered citizens. Straight out of the Book of Laws. So then we tried to pass a resolution to be able to submit requests for changes in the Book of Laws to the Triumvirate, allowing for only one request per session of the Senate. But the Reader said this was also prohibited.”
“It’s like running into a brick wall, over and over. Why even go back?”
“You know, I had a similar conversation with one of the other senators after the session. He wanted to fall down with gratitude that the government had even given the Senate back to us, such as it is. But I told him it’s like the old placebo effect. People think they’ve given us back democracy because that’s what they’re calling it to lull us into a sense of control. But it isn’t real, it’s not the cure for this dying land. All they’ve really allowed us is the right to decorate the bars of our own cage. Then, of course, the senator told me I was taking a risk by speaking that way. But what do I really risk? My liberty? Because that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“No, Z, but we have to keep up appearances. We have to let them believe we’re working within the system they’ve created for us. They can’t suspect we’re involved with the Watch. Besides, what would we do without you if you were arrested?”
“I think at this point they’d be more suspicious if I stopped speaking out. They’re used to my bluster. I think that’s more of a smoke screen than anything.”
“Maybe so.”
“And why should we work within the system they’ve created? Our ancestors didn’t. If they disagreed with the system, they changed it or created a new one.”
“Sure, but we’ve been through two revolutions, Z, and we lost both times. We don’t have the resources to wage all-out war again. Much as our ideals may flinch at that thought, it’s the hard truth we have to face.”
“You know the thing that disgusts me the most? The fear. I could feel it in that room of senators like a film over everything. We got into this mess in the first place because of fear. Back when democracy still existed, people started letting fear guide their choices. Anytime fear is the sole motivator, it begins to strangle out all other good and noble purposes. Then I had to see the country begin to fashion its own noose out of the strands fear. And now we have to live with the consequences.”
“Take it easy, Z. We’re doing what we can.”
“What we can. What they’ll allow us. What doesn’t cause too much suspicion. I wanted to make a difference with my life. I wanted to do something important. That’s all Jesse and I used to talk about. She’d listen to her old Helen Reddy tapes and get all fired up, and we’d talk about all the things we wanted to do. All the things we wanted to become. And now . . . well, now, it’s all become so much less.”
Gemma had stopped what she was doing again. She walked toward this man, her adopted father, the one person she respected the most in the world. She noticed for maybe the first time the slope in his shoulders, the weariness he wore like a garment. She felt the urge to protect him as he had always protected her. Kneeling beside him, she told him what she thought he wanted to hear, but also what she truly believed. “You do make a difference, Z. More than you know. People look up to you. They follow you.” She saw for the first time what his strength and care for other people all these years had cost him. She knew it was because she was experiencing something similar with losing Sam again. She would have
to put her own feelings and needs aside to help her people and the cause.
Zacharias spoke slowly after a moment of silence between them. “I read something once about leaving a legacy. I suppose it doesn’t matter what you do if you’ve changed the world in some way and left a little part of yourself behind.”
Gemma took his hands in her own. “You’ve done that. We live in Jesse’s Hollow, a town you practically rebuilt with your two hands.”
“Would she be proud, do you think? No, don’t answer that.”
* * * * *
Gemma returned to her own home to find Kyle’s coat and boots, wet with snow, dropped on the floor by the door where he’d left them after shoveling the walk. The snow was melted in a puddle beneath them, so she knew he’d been done for a while. The bloodstained pallet where their neighbor Jordan had lain for weeks was empty in front of the waning fire. She didn’t relish the idea of having to clean up the effects of yet another run-in with Corsairs.
As she looked around the house, she noticed again how Kyle brought a ruffled, hurried look to any room he’d been in, the stain of his intensity left behind. He was different from the way he used to be, but then she was too. Since his return from the Corsairs, she hadn’t been able to feel quite settled around him, though she tried harder than she ever thought she could.
In their bedroom, Kyle lay facedown, sprawled out on top of the covers. She could tell he was still awake by his shallow, quick breathing.
“Thanks for shoveling,” Gemma said to his back.
“Hmm?” Kyle grunted.
“I noticed you shoveled the walk.”
“Yeah, it needed to be done.”
“Did Jordan and Ruth make it to the Border alright?”
Kyle took in a deep breath as he rolled over to face his wife. “Sure they did. Why wouldn’t they?”
“I was just asking. It’s the first time we’ve ever tried an escape like that. I just wanted to make sure everything went okay. It’s not like we’re professionals or like we have any experience with things like that.”
A Light From the Ashes Page 8