by Dave Conifer
“Okay,” Dwayne said, nodding. He looked relieved.
“Well, we’ve met Dwayne,” Mark said. “We met Nick, who’s a roofer.” Nick waved curtly at the rest of them. “And Del Ketch is a plumber. How about the rest of you? Stand up and tell us who you are. Then I think we’ll hit the road.”
Linda stood up. “I’m Linda Brown,” she said. “I’m a framer, too. Came up as a laborer, but they gave me a hammer one day and the rest is history.”
“Yeah!” Ricky yelled. "Preach, sister!"
A few chuckles rattled around the room, but it quieted down quickly. The woman next to Linda then stood up. "I'm Nancy Shaughnessy," she said. "I'm not sure I belong here. I'm a house painter. We've done some commercial jobs for new construction, so I know my way around. But like I said, I'm just a painter.
“We'll put you to work, don't worry. You’ll learn on the job," Mark said. “How about you?” he asked, pointing at a man in the corner who hadn’t spoken.
“Si,” Del said. “Habla Ingles?”
Ignoring Del, the man stood up. “I’m Miguel Cantos. I have no specialty,” he said slowly, emphasizing all the wrong syllables. “When it comes to construction, I have done it all.” Nick heard a distinct Mexican accent, although the man obviously had a solid grasp of the English language.
“A jack of all trades, huh?” Mark asked.
“You ain’t like one of those illegals who swam across the river from Me-hee-co, are ya'?” Del asked. “Excuse me. I mean, ‘undocumented,’ for the PC police.”
“Back off,” said somebody up front. “I know Miguel. I’ve worked with him. He’s a good man.”
“Like I said,” Del retorted. “The PC crowd is everywhere.”
“Cool it, okay Delbert?” Mark said. “And you are?” he asked Miguel’s defender.
“Gary Stocker. I’m a carpenter,” he answered. “I’m a bit like Miguel. I’ve done just about everything. But not as good, let me tell you. If we need to throw a lot of cabins up in a short time, we’re lucky to have him.”
“Sounds good,” Mark said. “Well, we’re the first string. The Committee promised me they’ll give us a few laborers to do the grunt work. We’ll need ‘em. I don’t want to waste any of you carting lumber or humping cans of nails around. We have too much to do.”
“What about building materials, Mark?” Dwayne asked. “We ain’t building a house of sticks like the three little pigs, right?”
“We’ve got some good supplies on hand,” Mark said. “You’ll see when we get out there. While everybody else was looting the local WaWa, Grover was rebuilding tractor trailers and raiding every Home Depot within fifty miles. It won’t last forever. Eventually we'll have to set up our own saw mill. But for now, we won’t be hurting for materials or supplies.”
"When do we start?" Del asked.
"Soon. Maybe tomorrow. And we're going to be bunking out at Tabernacle a lot. That way we can work dawn to dusk."
"Sweet," somebody said, with little enthusiasm.
“How many buildings have to go up?” Nick asked.
“For the long term, I couldn’t tell you,” Mark answered. “The Committee is planning on building Tabernacle out for a long stay. They’ve got big plans. But as far as what we need to get done before winter sets in? Forty or so buildings, maybe? It might be fifty. Some more complicated than others.”
“That’s a tall order if we’re using Stone Age tools,” Del said.
“We’ll have some power,” Mark said. “The Committee promised me that we’ll have generators. At least enough to run some power saws. I told them we can’t get this done otherwise, and they agreed to it. They don't like sacrificing the gas for the gennies, but they know we have to hit our deadline or the winter's going to be a disaster for all of us.”
~~~
A few minutes after the introductions were over, Mark led the group outside the school, where two vans were parked. They all piled in, with Mark behind the wheel of one and his brother driving the other, and they set off for Camp Tabernacle.
Nick found himself sitting in the middle row of one van next to Gary, the soft-spoken carpenter. "That was decent of you to stand up for the Hispanic guy," he said.
"I meant every word of it," Gary replied. "Mark my words. Miguel will turn out to be the best guy we have. I can't stand people like that plumber shooting their mouths off without thinking."
"Exactly," Nick agreed. "We all have to work together. No use throwing bombs the first day we meet."
"Just so you know," Gary said in a much quieter voice, "Miguel is illegal. So's his wife, Margarita. All three of their kids were born here, so they're legal. Can't say I understand that law. But anyway, they're good, hardworking, honest people who never complain. They're not hurting anybody."
"Besides," Nick said. "We're all undocumented now, aren't we?"
Gary laughed. "Yeah, good point. None of that matters much anymore."
Since it had been dark by the time they arrived at Southampton Middle School the night before, Nick hadn’t been able to see how badly damaged the area was. It didn't take long to realize that it wasn't nearly as battered as the suburban areas were. That wasn't a surprise. In fact, it was one of the reasons they'd come. Besides the relative abundance of the natural resources they'd need, there were simply fewer people out there. That meant less danger.
He watched the scenery roll by as they traveled south on Route 206 through bucolic farmland into Wharton State Forest, where the Pine Barrens really began. Once they left 206 he lost track of the roads; he didn't know the area well enough even to guess. But it was obvious that they were getting further and further off the beaten track with every mile. Eventually the evergreens threatened to grow right over top of the road and reclaim it for the forest.
"This place we're going," Gary said. "I used to camp out there with the boy scouts," Gary said. "The whole area looks exactly the same."
“I thought it was a girl scout camp.”
“It is now.”
"Do you have son?" Nick asked.
"No," Gary said sheepishly. "My neighbor did. After a while I had to stop going on the campouts. Some of the parents got weirded out by it."
"Hmm," Nick said, not sure what to say. The conversation ebbed, leaving them to stare out the windows again. When the vans turned off the two lane blacktop onto a dirt road, they knew they were close. It was getting too dark to see anything, making Nick wonder why they’d come at all. What little they could see was further obscured by the dust from the preceding van as it swirled into the wall of pines. But even in the dusk there was no way to miss the wooden arch they passed under, engraved "Welcome to Camp Tabernacle." They were home.
~~~
Ellie was underwhelmed by what she saw at the Sanitation subcommittee meeting. For one thing, she didn't know any other members, although she recognized some faces. Even worse, she was miffed that of the ten, eight were women. She wasn't usually a women's libber, but she had the distinct impression as she walked back to her room after the meeting that, like it was done a hundred years earlier, cleanup work was going to be the responsibility of the ladies. She wouldn't complain, but that rubbed her the wrong way.
~~~
Her husband Matt had a much better experience at the Water Supply meeting. They elected a leader, Sue Stocker, a chemist who seemed to have a direct line of communication with Grover and the Committee. She informed the rest of the members that within the borders of Camp Tabernacle was a good-sized fresh water lake from which they could draw reasonably clean water to start with. Furthermore, she explained, they could request construction of any buildings or facilities that could feasibly be built, and that their requests would have high priority.
“The Construction subcommittee is going to be living out at the camp while they build,” Sue told them. “I know this in part because my husband is on that subcommittee. Once we’re done in the library, it might be a good idea for us to live out there, too.”
Several of the members
had the same type of hands-on experience that Matt had, trying on their own to develop a system to supply their families with clean water. From what he gathered, all had similar approaches and similar results.
Sue thought she could get her hands on the chemicals they'd need to kill most of the bacteria they'd find even in so-called clean, natural water. What they were missing was somebody with expertise on exactly what those chemicals were and how to use them. That's what the library was for, she announced. After scheduling the next meeting in the library, the group disbanded, leaving Matt to report excitedly to the Outhouse Coalition on how well it had gone.
~~~
Penny enjoyed her meeting with the Food Production subcommittee as much as Matt enjoyed his. Although her experience with agriculture didn't go beyond the tomatoes and cucumbers she grew in the backyard, she felt at home and comfortable with the group, which consisted of a mix of hunters and farmers. The first point that they discussed and agreed on was that given the time of year, there was no chance they could plant anything useful that could be harvested before the cold weather came. Since that didn't relieve them of the responsibility to provide food, they approved plans to get into the forests to seek and collect any fruits and berries they could find, which could be canned and preserved to be eaten during the winter. The consensus was that they should be able to find blueberries, blackberries, cranberries and honey. Apples and peaches, both staples of South Jersey agriculture, might also be available, although nobody could remember those growing in the Pine Barrens.
Unlike the Water Supply subcommittee, the members felt like they had all the knowledge they needed right between their ears. All they needed was cleared, arable land and some seed to start out with. She felt guilty knowing that while she was part of the group that was planning how to grow the food to feed them all, her husband was babysitting over in the cafeteria.
The hunting contingent, led by swarthy John Markle, felt equally confident about fulfilling their mission. All of them knew from experience that there were enough deer in those forests to feed a group ten times the size of this one. All they would need were a few dedicated buildings at Tabernacle, and they could do the rest.
~~~
“How’d it go?” Penny asked Tom later, when they were back in their room chasing their own kids around. “Did all the kids get along?”
“Yeah,” Tom said. “It wasn’t the chaos I expected. It’s almost like all the kids understand that these are tough times and they don’t need to come up with any new problems. When did six year-olds get so mature?”
“Maybe when they started worrying about where their next meal is coming from,” Penny answered.
“Sarah’s girls didn’t look so good,” Tom said. “Especially Jenny. They stayed off by themselves. Funny, it was little Ashley who was consoling Jenny, not the other way around.”
“They’re dealing with a lot more than the other kids,” Penny said. “On top of everything else, they think of themselves as orphans now. Did you try talking with them?”
“Yeah,” Tom answered. “They don’t want to hear anything from me.”
“Were there a lot of kids Jenny’s age?” Penny asked. “Maybe she’ll bond with somebody.”
“Yeah, quite a few,” Tom said. “The average age was nine or ten, but there were some her age.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. That always helped us when we were that age, right?”
“I still think the teens should be counselors, not campers,” Penny said. “Maybe a little responsibility would do her good. At least it might take her mind off what she’s worried the most about.”
Seven
They’d lost their momentum now, even though they’d come up with some food and water. Before it was just Dewey who was injured; now, she thought she was worse off than he was, although she hadn’t told him how bad off she was yet. The original plan had been to travel at night and hide out during the day. That plan never made more sense than now, as they cowered in the woods at about noon, nursing their wounds. They could eat, they could plan, and they could rest. All they needed was a better place to hole up. Somewhere that Otto and his hunting buddy couldn’t get to them.
“Dewey,” she said. “I got a little beat up in there.” She braced herself and pulled her shirt up. She hadn’t seen it yet, either. Just the blood on her clothing.
“Whoa!” Dewey yelled when he saw it. “That’s really bad! Like, what happened?”
“Keep your voice down,” Sarah told him. “I got cut. I’m hoping it’s not as bad as it looks.” She took her first look and decided that although it was ugly, there was only gored flesh there. No vital organs had been damaged. There was nothing there that wouldn’t heal, though she’d have a nice new set of scars. All she needed to do was to keep it as clean as she could and stay still enough to give her body a chance to take care of itself. All the more reason to find a safe hiding place. She would feel much better about it when the bleeding stopped.
“I don’t feel safe here,” she said. “I don’t know that we’re very far from that house, even after all the wandering I did. How about you?”
I’m not sure either,” he said. “Like, I walked a long way, and then I walked a long way back. That’s all I know.”
“I think the road is that way,” she said, pointing over his shoulder. “If nothing else, I’d like to go the other direction and get further into the woods. I don’t think they’d mind finding us, but I don’t think they’ll work too hard at it.”
“Can you walk?” Dewey asked.
“How do you think I got here?” Sarah snapped. “After I fought off a two hundred pound maniac with a knife, while I was raiding a house looking for food. Can you walk?”
Dewey raised his hands defensively. “I was just asking. Sorry, I guess.”
Her angry face softened. “No, Dewey, my bad. I’m sorry. It was a good question, considering I’m sitting here showing you my carved up stomach.”
~~~
Dewey helped her stand up, and then they walked. Since she needed to hold her side, he took the cloth bag that contained the food and water. There was less urgency now, since nobody was chasing them and they had a few hours of daylight left. Not knowing where they were going as they trudged through the forest made them uneasy, of course, especially since the only food they had in the world was what they were carrying. That was something Sarah knew she’d never be comfortable with, although she was getting used to it.
Sarah stopped in her tracks when Dewey grabbed her arm. His finger over his lips told her he’d seen something. They ducked behind a tree. By then she heard the voice of somebody shouting. Sarah couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but it sounded like a name, as though he was calling out to somebody. She and Dewey were safely out of sight when he came into view. He was a gaunt man who appeared to be struggling with his own weight as he moved slowly through the forest. Completely harmless, Sarah decided, but there was no reason to do anything but let him pass. That would be best for all involved.
That was the plan, until a young boy stumbled into their hiding spot and greeted them innocently. As soon as he spoke the man retraced his steps, burst upon the strange scene, and hugged the little boy without so much as casting a glance at either Sarah or Dewey. Finally, he acknowledged them, with a simple question. “Do you have any food you could spare?”
Sarah looked at Dewey, who shrugged and nodded. Sarah had hardened to the point where she might have ignored the man, but never the boy. Not yet, anyway. She nodded. “We have meat and water we could share.” She gestured for them to sit. As they did, she opened the bag of deer meat. Before long, the man and boy had finished off the last of the water. Neither Sarah nor Dewey had the heart to stop them. When their thirst was quenched they dug into the venison they’d been offered with the water.
It looked as though neither of them had eaten in weeks. The man, especially, looked like a skeleton. Sarah had trouble making sense of it. Who were they? What were they doing wandering through the P
ine Barrens with no food or water?
Neither Sarah nor Dewey had said more than a word or two before the man and boy finished their unexpected meal. They stood. The man thanked them, and then they disappeared back into the forest. Sarah knew she should be scolding herself for giving away food and water when they didn’t even have enough for themselves, but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret what they’d done. Strangely, that gave her hope.
~~~
The darkness of evening was beginning to dull their surroundings when Dewey grabbed Sarah’s shoulder and gently pulled her to a stop. He pointed through the trees to a tiny building. Even from that distance she thought that although it wasn’t rustic enough to be called a log cabin, it nevertheless looked like a home. “Have you ever been here?” he whispered. “What is it?”
“Never seen it,” she replied. “It looks like a little house, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “And maybe a little road leading up to it.”
“What do you think?” she asked. “Check it out? Or go around?”
“The trees go right up to the walls,” Dewey said. “We can sneak right up without anybody seeing us, I think.”
“Okay,” Sarah said.
“Wait. Don’t, like, get mad,” he said hesitantly. “Should I go by myself?”
She was relieved. His gunshot wound was on the mend, while her own gash was still a risk. The less movement the better, and this was a one-person job, anyway. “Good idea, if you don’t mind. You still have the pistol, right?”
“Yup. And I remember how to use it,” he assured her. “I’ll be right back.”
Sarah grabbed his arm after coming to some conclusions. “Dewey, wait. Listen. I’m not sure how to say this. You have to be ready to shoot to kill. If anybody’s there and they see you, they won’t be happy you’re there. If that happens, get them before they get you, okay? We need to stay in one piece, and we need that house. Both of us.”