by Mia Frances
"What's this word?" Charles asked, moving to her side, holding up a book.
"What?" The children had been sitting at the table taking turns reading stories aloud, but she hadn't been paying attention, lost in her own thoughts.
"This word: behemoth." He pointed to it on the page. "What's it mean?"
"Something gigantic. Like a dinosaur or whale," she explained.
"OK. Thanks." He turned away, then stopped," Is anything wrong Alex? Something bothering you?"
"It's nothing," she assured him. "Go back to your reading."
She listened as he struggled with the story. To give the children a sense of normalcy, Alex insisted they keep up with their studies: spelling and arithmetic, science and history, geography and English. They needed to know how to read and write even now. She told them that when the government reasserted control, the schools would reopen; but it was just wishful thinking on her part. The radios remained silent. She assumed there was no law, no order, no functioning government anywhere in the country now. Otherwise federal, state, or local authorities would be on the air broadcasting. If what was happening here was any indication of what was going on in the rest of the country, their society was devolving, deteriorating. Their once proud nation had ceased to exist; its citizens roaming bands of savages, the tribes of Armageddon. What good was history, literature, or art now? They were relics of the past, sad reminders of what used to be. Still, it kept the children occupied, whiling away the hours, as they waited for spring.
Alex feared the future. It wasn't her own death that frightened her. She was resigned to that. What she couldn't deal with was the end of her kind. Some scientists in a program she'd seen on the Discovery Channel had talked about extinction, an earth where mankind no longer existed. Roaches and rats would inherit the planet they predicted. She was sure they'd make better caretakers than humans. At least they wouldn't blow it all to hell!
The one luxury she had now was time, time to think. She thought a lot about God. Did He really exist? Alex had serious doubts. Wolf was religious and insisted that they worship together every Sunday, singing hymns and reading from the scriptures. He insisted the children needed religion, that it would teach them values and give them comfort and hope in these troubling times. He wanted them to believe that a loving God watched over them, that they weren't alone in the vast nothingness of the universe. Alex disagreed. Whatever was out there, if anything at all, certainly wasn't benevolent!
She thought a lot about why they hadn't died. How it was they'd managed to survive the aftermath of the war. There was no easy explanation, but she suspected that the rainstorms that covered most of the Midwest and East Coast that day had something to do with it, bringing the worst of the fallout down close to the target areas. She speculated that not all the bombs had been unleashed that day. Some had probably been destroyed in their silos before the missiles could be launched. Others intercepted and destroyed by defensive weapons. Then again, perhaps it hadn't been a war measured in minutes or hours, but had gone on for days, weeks, or even months, lessening the shock to the ecosystem of the planet, allowing fires to burn out and dust to settle between exchanges. For all she knew the conflict might be ongoing. She shuddered at the thought. Alex knew that radiation from fallout declined rapidly, the majority of it coming down within hours of the blast in the vicinity of the target area and downwind of it. She believed that the winds from the Ft. Drum blast might not have been blowing in their direction that day and that even if they had, there was a good chance that most of the lethal dust had come down in the form of rain before ever reaching them, the cave shielding them from the rest.
They'd weathered the worst of it; they were still alive, but for how long? She didn't know much about the cumulative effects of radiation, except that it caused a huge spike in cancer rates among the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The bombs they'd dropped on Japan were small compared to the ones they had today, which were hundreds, even a thousand times more powerful. Though they took precautions to lessen the risk of contamination, she couldn't be sure how successful their efforts really were. Her biggest fear was starvation. She worried the bombs had damaged the ozone layer, allowing increased ultraviolet light to reach earth. Killing plants. Destroying the food chain. Devastating the oceans. She remembered reading that large-megaton bombs detonated in the atmosphere depleted the ozone, but caused less fallout. Just the opposite was true of ground bursts. But which had the warring factions used? The ozone, she knew, would eventually be restored to its former state, but that would take years and years. In the interim the ecology of the earth would be devastated, many plants and animals becoming extinct.
She had visions of waking up one morning to find the forest dying and them with it. Some plants were more sensitive than others to ultraviolet radiation, but which she didn't know. Would the dandelions die? The plantain? The cattails? The maples? The pines? Something stuck in her mind about onions, that they'd be the first to succumb. There was little to do but wait, hoping that her fears were unfounded.
Alex watched the children with a heavy heart. They deserved to live, yet there was no way she could insure they would. They were actors in a drama that had been written in places they'd never been, by people they didn't know, the end of their story: unknown.
She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, nervously twisting her hair with her fingers. Her eyes darted from the door to the clock. Just ten minutes had passed since the last time she'd looked. It was only 9:30; he wouldn't be back for hours yet. She walked slowly toward the fireplace. Wolf was acting irrationally. Alex had tried to reason with him, but the damn fool wouldn't listen. Wolf had informed her that he couldn't stand idly by while killers roamed free. She could understand his anger and outrage; but what might be seen as bravery in some situations, became stupidity and insanity when the odds were six to one and the one was injured and weak from pain. He was a deputy sheriff; it was a matter of principle for him. Well she didn't give a rat's ass that he'd been a cop before, that he wanted justice for the victims. Playing lawman, gimpy vigilante, could get him killed!
Something banged against the door. Alex whirled around, just in time to see it fly open and Wolf stagger into the room, his features obscured by blood. She screamed as she ran to his side.
"You've got to get out," he told her, trying to catch his breath. "They're on their way here. I saw them in the woods. Take what you can and run."
Her eyes widened, face frozen in fear.
"Listen to me. There's no time. They'll be here soon. I shot one of them, but the rest will keep coming. Take blankets and food, the guns and ammo, and whatever else you can carry, and leave now; there's no time to waste!"
"Can't we fight them off?"
"There's too many of them. Take the maps and get to Dishrag Pond. Follow the creek south. There's an old hiking path there. You can't miss it. Head east, four miles or so, and it'll take you to the Northville Placid trail and Cedar River Road. If you head south from there maybe five miles, you'll be at the Moose River Wilderness area. There's a ranger station there. Do you know where I mean?"
Alex nodded.
He looked past her to Justin and Charles. "Start getting everyone ready. And be quick about it. You don't have much time! Grab the knives and the crossbows and make sure that the guns are loaded, that there's one in the chamber, and the safeties are off!"
The little ones were sobbing as the older ones hustled them first one way, then another. Running feet dispersing in all directions, retrieving blankets, clothing, and food.
"Get the sleds and load up," he told her, "You've got to hurry. That ranger station is five miles from the nearest camp. You'll be safe there. Now go on, get going."
"What about you?" she blurted out, beginning to cry.
Wolf shook his head. "The stitches busted and I'm losing a lot of blood. The bastards aimed a shotgun in my direction. It was far enough away so that it didn't kill me, but I caught some shot in the face and can't see ou
t of one eye. I'd slow you down."
"We'll pull you in the sled," she protested
"No Alexandra. You need the sleds for supplies. Besides, I've got to stay here; give you time to get away."
"I'm not going to leave you!"
"Oh yes you are! You've got the kids to think of. I know where you'll be; I'll join you if I can. Go on now, get ready."
Alex stared at him; feeling like someone had ripped her heart out. He was going to die here and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. She turned away, sobbing. There was nothing left to say.
When they were ready to go, the children helped him into a chair beside the door, a rifle in his lap, a box of ammunition beside him on the table. There were tears in his eyes as he watched them go, their faces showing confusion and fear as they looked back and waved goodbye to him.
Only Alex remained. She opened her mouth to say something, but he raised his hand to silence her. "No goodbyes. You're on your own now. You've got enough food for a while and you've got the guns. There's plenty of game down there. You'll be fine. You're strong-willed and feisty. You'll manage just fine. I know you will. You go on now and don't worry about me." He tried to be stoic, but his face betrayed him. He was overwhelmed with grief for what might have been.
"Thank you," she whispered, bending to kiss him on the cheek.
"Take care Alex. Stay safe!"
Alex stepped over the threshold and heard the door slam behind her. That was it. This was goodbye. She looked down the trench at the anxious faces of the children, then back to the door. She grabbed the rope of the sled; and, as tears descended her cheeks, trudged forward. She only looked back once, then, her heart breaking, hurried away.
The snow was blowing as they struggled along the trail. Fighting the wind, they moved ahead, the little ones floundering in the drifts, having to be steadied to keep from falling. They walked in silence, the only sound an occasional sniffle or sob. She watched them, thinking about the journey ahead. Eleven miles, maybe more? How would they ever make it? Gunfire crackled in the distance. Alex stopped, rooted to the spot. Heads lifted, quickly looking back over their shoulders. Startled and shaken, she spun around. How far had they come? A half mile? She turned to the children, then looked down at the toboggan. Once when she'd been in need, frightened, near death, and alone, he'd come to save her. Adrenalin coursed through her veins, like jolts of electricity. She bent, fingers grasping the edge of the sled. She groaned as she straightened up, toppling the contents into the snow. She couldn't, wouldn't let him die!
"You go on," she said, looking at their frightened faces. "I'll catch up."
"You're going back?" Charles freaked out.
"I owe him. I've got to try to help him. Get this stuff up and keep moving," she ordered. There was no use arguing with her. Her mind was made up.
"Here. You'll need this," Justin handed her one of the shotguns. "It's loaded. All you have to do is pull the trigger. Then pump this to put another round in the chamber."
"Sounds easy enough," she said, studying the weapon.
"Take these too." Charles held out a bunch of shells. "When it's empty, feed the shells in one at a time under here. Push them in with your thumb. It holds six shells. One in the chamber and five in the magazine. Pump it after you put the first shell in, then load the rest."
She took the shells from him, slipping them into her pocket.
"One of us should go with you," Deana protested. "You'll need help."
"No. I'll be fine. If I haven't caught up with you in a few hours, you stop before dark and start building a shelter. Remember Justin? Like in the book?"
The boy nodded, fighting back tears.
"And you build the biggest damn fire you can so I can find you, all right?"
Jasmine began to sob, wrapping her little arms around Alex's leg.
"It's OK," she assured her, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll meet up with you on the trail by nightfall." She gently loosened the little girl's grip and picked up the rope.
"Be careful Aunt Alex," Lindsey whispered.
"I will," Alex promised as she headed back the way she'd come. The air was alive with the sound of gunfire. "Let him be alive! Please let him be alive!"
The storm was intensifying, snow billowing around her. It was only a little further now. The gunfire had ceased. She hurried on, fearing she was already too late. Alex had gone little more than 100 feet when she smelled something in the air. Smoke! She moved swiftly through the snow, the hard crust crunching beneath her feet. Up ahead she could see thick black curls rising up toward the sky. Alex broke into a run. There were tongues of fire leaping above the drifts. The cabin was on fire.
Panic gripped her as she burst from the trees into the clearing. The sled bobbed and swayed behind her as she plowed ahead. Puffs of acrid black smoke sent showers of cinders floating to the ground, as the flames rose higher and higher. She let loose the rope as she rounded the side of the blazing cabin. Clutching the gun, eyes stinging and watering from the smoke, she raced toward the trench. Her lungs burned as she disappeared into the black cloud, the fumes and ash choking her. Coughing, she climbed to the top of the mound then dove head first into the trench. Something broke her fall, a body! Gasping for breath, she jumped up to find that there were more of them, dark figures sprawled in the snow all around her. They'd tried to rush the cabin, but he'd held them off. Shaking and sobbing hysterically she dropped the gun and climbed over them. The cabin was engulfed in flames. She could barely see as she made her way toward the door, the smoke growing thicker and blacker with every step.
Alex kept screaming his name, but there was no answer, Blinded by the stinging ash, she extended her arms straight out in front of her and tried to find the door. She could feel the heat even through her gloves. Her hands collided with something smooth and hard. She felt over it, looking for the knob. Finding and gripping it tightly, she turned and pushed, but nothing happened. She cracked her eyes open wider, the door was already ajar. Through the opening, she could see the raging inferno that was quickly consuming the interior. She pushed again, but something was braced against it. Alex took two steps back, then charged the door with her shoulder.
It moved a little. She could hear creaks, then a crash, as a roof timber smashed to the floor. Wailing hysterically, she jumped back. "Wolf! Wolf!" She lunged again at the door, leaping off the ground as she crashed into it. Wood splintered as she and the door toppled into the room. Dazed, she tried to get to her feet, coughing and gasping for breath. The air was hot, sparks burning her face. From above came another sickening creak. The roof was caving in. Unable to see, she pushed the door aside and dropped to her knees, feeling over the floor as she sobbed his name. The side of her hand touched something, an arm. She grabbed hold of it and, struggling to her feet, began dragging the heavy weight. Using all her strength, she inched backward, tugging at it, forcing it to move. She could hear him moaning as her fingers griped his arm like a vise. He was alive! Above her, the creaks were growing louder. Alex yanked with all her might. She opened her eyes for a second, recoiling as the roof on the far side of the room collapsed, crashing to the floor in an explosion of embers. Her muscles strained as she cleared the doorway.
Alex had to hurry before the whole thing caved in on them. Digging her heels into the snow-covered wood, Alex dragged him to her. She managed to get him out onto the porch just as the front portion of the roof caved in, sending showers of sparks out in all directions. Her boots moved from snow to something softer. Alex cringed. She was stepping on a corpse! She lost her footing momentarily, but quickly regained it. She kept moving backward, dodging bodies as best she could, tugging and pulling with all her might, as she tried to get him to safety. She fell as she struggled up the incline, but quickly regained her footing. She slipped and slid, but never once did she let loose her hold on him.
Out of breath, she finally got him to the top. She let go his arm and wiped her eyes, then dropped to her knees and, taking off her glove, gently
touched his face. His eyes were closed. He couldn't see her. Yet he whispered her name.
"You're going to be all right," she vowed, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm here now." She lingered for a moment, just watching him breath, then, touching his arm, ran to get the sled.
Returning, she quickly took off the deerskin poncho she wore and laid it down on the toboggan. She rolled him onto it, then looked around in dismay. He wasn't wearing a coat, just a sweatshirt. He'd freeze to death in the cold if she didn't find something to cover him with. Alex looked back at the cabin. She couldn't salvage anything from the blazing ruin. Everything was gone. She'd begun unzipping her jacket, when she noticed the body lying a few feet away. His down jacket, snowmobile pants, heavy gloves, scarves, and ski mask. What she was thinking made her skin crawl, but there was no other way. She'd have to strip the bodies.
Alex hovered over him, ripping a shirt into rag strips. Knotting them together, she made another rope. She'd lashed him securely to the sled, but didn't want to take chances. The terrain ahead would be rough going, she wanted to make sure he was secure. She wrestled to get it under the sled, slowly working it from the front down to where she could tie it around his knees. He was buried under mounds of clothing, the guns tucked in beside him. She'd taken everything they had, leaving them naked. Alex felt like a grave-robbing ghoul, but had no choice. Almost everything they had was gone, taken from them in a wanton act of violence and destruction. She studied the neon blue coat atop the pile, a large crimson stain encircling a small hole in the fabric, then quickly turned away. Alex picked up the remaining canteens and knapsacks, slung them over her shoulder, and reached for the rope. She had only a vague notion of where they were going. Worse, she didn't know what they'd find when they got there. Alex took a deep breath, wiped away her tears, and, without looking back, began the long journey.
Alex was gasping for air when she stopped to rest at the top of a hill. Her gloves were damp with blood. She took the tips of the fingers in her teeth and ripped one off, groaning as pieces of skin came with it. Even in the blinding snow, her palm looked like raw meat, the blisters broken open, the soft tissue beneath oozing blood. She stuck her hand in a drift, trying to numb the pain. She could barely focus on the trail ahead. Her legs felt like jelly, muscles cramped and aching. She was exhausted. Her shoulder and neck throbbed, her arms feeling like lead weights. She had no idea how far they'd come, but had passed the pond and turned onto the trail what seemed like hours ago. Alex had been searching for some sign of the children, but the storm was at the height of its fury, the blowing snow forming deep drifts on the trail. She could barely see 20 feet in the whiteout conditions.