Charlinder's Walk

by Alyson Miers

  "Guess what, everyone?" he announced at the end of the day, when they were all clearly itching to leave. "Teacher Char has something to tell you!"

  A few children responded with, "What?" while the rest weren't listening.

  "You're going to have a new teacher soon, because I won't be with you much longer!" Suddenly all eyes were trained on Charlinder while little mouths fell slack.

  "Why not?" Elizabeth asked.

  "I'm going on a trip to Italy to find out about the Plague, and I don't know how long it'll take, so you'll need to have a new teacher in the meantime!" he explained.

  "Why do you want to go away?" asked a round-eyed little girl.

  "I'm not leaving forever," he said, "but you know a lot of people around here have questions about where the Plague came from, so I want to go to where it started and find out what happened. Then I'll come back and tell you all what I found."

  "How are you going to get there?" asked a 12-year-old boy.

  "Come here, let me show you." He led the students to the world map etched in clay on the wall. "Here's where we are." He pointed to their spot on the American east coast, clear of the Appalachian Mountains but too far inland for a maritime climate. "If you go east, Europe is closer, but there's an ocean, and I don't think there's anyone around who can make it that far by water. If you go west, though," he demonstrated, showing them the route he'd been tracing for weeks, "it's much farther to travel, but you can get there by land."

  "What about that water up there?" asked the boy, pointing to the Bering Strait.

  "Are you going to swim?" asked the little girl.

  Charlinder laughed. "It's much too cold for that. There is water up there, but it's not very far, so I’ll cross it by canoe."

  "Where will you get a canoe?" Elizabeth inquired.

  "I'm sure there are people out there who have their own canoes, so I'll just get a ride with them. Then it's all land the rest of the way."

  "How far is it?" asked a small boy.

  "Thousands, thousands of miles."

  "How long will you be gone?" asked an older girl.

  "A long time."

  The real change came at dinnertime. Charlinder was just sitting down to the usual bowl of stew and cornmeal with his uncle when he saw Miriam storming up to them, looking too unhinged to be angry or worried.

  "You're not kidding, are you!" she shouted, standing over Charlinder and Roy with their dinner bowls in hand.

  "If you want to talk to Char, maybe you could take it somewhere less busy?" Roy suggested.

  She squatted down to Charlinder's eye level and ignored Roy. "When he told me about your half-brained idea to walk all the way to Italy, I thought you were joking!" she railed. "But you really mean it, don't you!"

  "I guess your grandson told you what I said in school today?"

  "Yes, he told me!" she outright screamed. All their neighbors eating nearby were staring, while Roy inched into a position to hold Miriam back in case she pounced. "And you're totally nuts! You'll never get there, so stop telling these kids that you're leaving them and bringing back answers, because it won't work!"

  "Hey, that's not fair," objected Charlinder. "It may be hard to get into Asia, but once I get over the Bering Strait--"

  "You're not gonna make it to the Bering Strait!" she interrupted. "You won't even make it to the Mississippi River! You'll freeze if you don't starve, and even if you stay safe, you'll still get tired and turn back! Stop trying to talk yourself into this fantasy!"

  While his gambit of telling his students had convinced an adult such as Miriam that he was sincere, he couldn't believe she was saying this to him. Maybe she was worried, and maybe she would miss him, but did she really have to cut him down?

  "Don’t you think I'm good enough to do this?"

  "No one is 'good enough' for what you're talking about! You're a man, not a machine! And you've hardly ever been more than ten miles out of your village in all your life! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

  "You don't know what I'm talking about, either."

  Miriam pulled back; she let out a breath like something was deflated. It wasn’t often that someone as young as Charlinder stood up to her.

  “Would you be considering this if your mother were still here?”

  “If my mom were still here,” he answered, with his voice involuntarily rising, “she’d be egging me on!”

  "What in the frick is her problem?" he growled to Roy in their cabin later that night. "Does she have to put me down in front of everyone like that? Can she at least hear me out before she blows her top?" He was pacing the cabin while his uncle reclined on his bed, waiting for Charlinder to settle down.

  "You, of all people, know Miriam better than that," said Roy.

  "Yeah, so why does she have to be like that?"

  "I'm sure she could have acted differently, but did you listen to anything she said?"

  "What, so you're siding with her?"

  “We can do this one of two ways, Char. You can go outside and finish pacing, or you can stay in here and calm down.”

  Charlinder sat down on his bed and looked at the floor between his knees.

  "Has it occurred to you that Miriam got so upset because she doesn't want to see anything happen to you?"

  "I know she cares, but why does she have to tell me I can’t do it?”

  "Because I'm sure you've put plenty of thought into your goals, but have you stopped to consider what you're getting yourself into?"

  "Yes, I know it's a long way, so I've spent the last five days thinking of all the things I'll need to take with me."

  "It's not only a long way you're traveling. We're talking about mountains, rivers, city ruins, wild animals you've never seen before. Much of the land you'll need to pass through is very, very cold, and there could also be a desert somewhere along your route. You don't know how many people are out there, either, once you get off the river. You could find two or three villages in a day, or you might not see another human being for weeks at a time, which could be dangerous if you run out of food. Even more so if you get sick."

  "Well, then I won't get sick."

  "You don't know that accidents won't happen, especially when you don't know the terrain and aren't used to the climate."

  "So what are you telling me to do, just forget about the whole thing because of a million and one things that might happen?"

  "You don't need me to tell you what might happen. You have Miriam to do that. I'm telling you to stop acting like getting into a canoe to cross the Bering Strait is the only thing you have to worry about."

  Charlinder said nothing. By "stop acting" like that, what exactly was he supposed to do differently?

  "It won't be the beginning of your troubles, it'll be far from the end, and I doubt it'll be the worst," Roy went on.

  "So what should I do about that?"

  "Have you considered what you might discover along the way?”

  “Yes, I have!” said Charlinder, his previous irritation abandoned. He squatted down by his uncle’s bed and continued. “I’ve been thinking; none of us have ever heard anyone speak anything except English, and there are all those countries between here and there, and they speak lots of different languages! Haven’t you ever thought of what it would be like to hear what another language sounds like?”

  “That’s a good question,” Roy admitted. “I’ll bet it would be fascinating to find out what other languages sound like. But I’m more concerned about how you’ll get along with other societies.”

  “What’s there to worry about?”

  “Well, have you ever noticed how the folks in St. Paul, and McKinley, and Paxtonville and such, are really different from us in a lot of ways?”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “So, multiply that much difference by thousands of miles. You’re going to have to interact with other people out there, otherwise you’ll lose your mind, and you might be surprised at how easy it is to offend someone who doesn’t know our
ways.”

  “I get what you’re saying, but I don’t think I’ll offend anyone so badly that I can’t just get up and walk away. Of course I need to be cautious, but what I really need is advice.”

  “Okay. You can’t anticipate all the cultural differences you’ll have to navigate,” his uncle began. "But you can make a list of all the things you'll need to get you through your journey." That much, Charlinder had already been doing, though he hadn't yet progressed to writing it down. "And then figure out how to convince the village to let you have all that for yourself."

  Charlinder's stomach suddenly churned. "Oh, shit. Miriam is on the council."

  "I didn't say you'd have to convince the village council," Roy corrected him. "I said you'll have to convince the village."

  As his uncle blew out the candle that night, the last thing Charlinder saw was the emptiness of their cabin. Living in their communal economy, no one owned very much. The cabin and beds were the property of the village. Charlinder and Roy each had a little bit of clothing that he and Lydia had woven and stitched themselves. Aside from that, they had a few tools and a couple of wooden boxes that Roy had built to organize their meager belongings. That was all.

  If he could use currency to buy things, then he could procure all the supplies he needed without having to convince anyone. They used money in Eileen's era, and they also had much easier travel, but then if Charlinder had lived in Eileen's era, he'd have had no reason to make this journey and probably would have died of the Plague. If he lived in a neighboring community, where every nuclear family was responsible for its own provision, then if he just worked hard enough, he would have anything and everything he needed with no cajoling of anyone. Of course, it was too late for him to move to another village now and start from nothing, and if he'd grown up anywhere else, he wouldn't be the person he was and wouldn't be planning anything like this.

  The next day he knew there were several things he needed to do. He would need to convince other people of the merits of his plan. That meant either a council of seven people which included Miriam, or a sizable portion of over 150 people, which included the ones he intended to prove wrong. Between those two options, he couldn't say if either was simpler or easier. Once he convinced them that his trip was a necessary venture, he would need to amass his supplies. He would also need to find someone to take over his job teaching school. It would need to be someone with enough energy to keep up with the children.

  For now, he would have to focus on the supplies he needed. There was the more pressing issue of food. He needed to take enough to last him at least a week, preferably several, until he could reach another village and beg for more provisions. It would have to be something lightweight, non-perishable, and nourishing. Probably dried, in that case. He would also need warm clothes and blankets. The trip was sure to take him through at least one winter, more likely two, and would take him through some very high latitudes. He might not be able to carry the parts for a tent with him, but blankets, he could do. He would be wise to make a copy of the world map on paper and take it with him to keep track of his route. Though he couldn't explain why, he also thought it would be prudent to take some of Eileen's journals.

  Roy came to visit him at school that afternoon just after the children left. Charlinder was afraid of hearing another lecture, but the look on his uncle's face was much gentler than that. He was either offering his approval or bringing very bad news.

  "Have you worked out your itinerary yet?" he asked.

  "Sort, of, pretty much," said Charlinder. He led his uncle over to the world map on the wall.

  "That's not a 'yes'," Roy pointed out. "Show me what you have in mind."

  "It's pretty simple. I'll go northwest until Alaska, then in Russia, I'll just cut straight west into Europe until right around in here," he pointed to an area in central Europe, "then go south into Italy."

  "That does look like the most efficient way," Roy agreed. "But I don't think it's such a good idea."

  "Why not, if it's the most efficient?"

  "There's another way to go that looks like it should take longer, but you're more likely to live through it. Once you get into Asia, follow the coast to the south, and stay in the warmer climates. Then stay along the coast for most of your journey, to make navigation easier. Just not too close; skip over this peninsula here," he explained, pointing to a long skinny tab hanging off the southern coast of Russia just after the Bering Strait, "then hug the coast for the rest of Russia, skip over Korea, stay pretty close to the coast for China. Then you skip over the Indochina peninsula, that'll save you a couple months, then see if you can cut across the Indian subcontinent, save a few more months..."

  "And so on," said Charlinder. "I see what you mean. It will be easier traveling that way. Then I'd also skip over this land mass here," he pointed to the Arabian peninsula, "go through Turkey, and stay a little ways inland in Greece, or else I'd waste weeks going up and down that shoreline."

  "Yes, you would," said Roy.

  "I know you're concentrating more on supplies right now, but about when do you think you'll leave?" Roy asked later that day. They were repairing a loom; Roy cut the wood to the proper dimensions and Charlinder nailed them into place.

  "As soon as I've got all the supplies I need together. That'll probably take a few weeks. Assuming I can get people on my side."

  "You're really anxious to get out of here, aren't you?"

  "Just to find the answers."

  "So you'd start your journey in the middle of the summer, if you had your way?"

  "Best-case scenario, yeah."

  "I don't think that's such a good idea, either."

  Charlinder couldn't repress a frustrated growl. "What am I doing wrong now?"

  "You're in no position to be sensitive about this, Char, so calm down," said Roy. When Charlinder had gone back to repairing the loom, Roy continued. "I'm concerned about the timing of your going that far north. It'll probably take you several months to get to Alaska, maybe even just to get into Canada."

  "So I don't want to waste any time," he protested.

  "But if you leave in the summer, you'll get up north as the season changes to winter. And you know what winter is like here, but up there it's much worse."

  Charlinder ran the numbers through his head. As much as he loathed the idea of putting off his departure, he couldn't get around the fact that his uncle had a point. "When do you think I should leave?"

  "I was thinking next January would give you good odds."

  "You want me to wait until the new year to start traveling."

  "Yes. If you start at about mid-January, then as you go north, the--"

  "--weather gets warmer," Charlinder finished. "That’s assuming I don't stay that far north for very long. What if winter comes around again before I can go south?"

  "Then at least the shock won't kill you."

  They kept working without saying anything for a while after that, until Charlinder asked, "Why are you always right?"

  Roy looked up, but he didn't look at Charlinder, he just sort of gazed off into the distance. "Talent," he said at last.

  Chapter Eight

  Too Late

  While he wouldn’t admit such a thing to his uncle, Charlinder found it a relief to know he would be home for several more months. Waiting until January meant he could take longer to prepare his supplies, find a replacement for himself at the school, and say goodbye to his friends. Without the pressure of a summer departure, he thought about how much he would need to take with him for his journey instead of indulging his earlier tendency to see how much he could get together in the little time he had. Regardless of the advantages of his new schedule, however, there was still the matter of arguing his case.

  Miriam came to the school on the day following Charlinder's discussion with Roy and asked him to come with her to Spinners' Square. While he was still unprepared to face her since their argument, he knew he couldn't avoid her for much longer, and he certainly didn't
want to stay away from the Square.

  It was empty when they arrived except for a blanket laid out with some yarn and tools. "Where's everybody else?"

  "They're not coming today. Sit down and hold this skein out for me."

  Charlinder held a skein of yarn open while Miriam wound it into a ball around the end of a polished stick of wood.

  "Listen, I'm sorry about screaming at you the other night," she said.