From that day forward Asher had stopped pushing her for her name, but it still irked Fi. It wasn’t like she knew everything about him or had his mother and father to ask, she thought and then bit her tongue. No, she thought sadly. His mother and father weren’t here. She leaned back against her pack again and sighed. Maggie looked at Fi with sleepy eyes.
“Are you comfortable Mama?” Fi asked, adjusting the soft fur vest beneath her mother’s head. Maggie nodded and her eyes closed. As usual, Jose and Mayra took the opportunity to do more scouting. Their conversations had taken on a steady rhythm.
“What about this way?” Mayra asked, pointing and squinting her eyes. “What about a ten minute scout in this direction to truth it?” Jose nodded.
“Yes, take Fi and go this way, while I take Sean around here,” he said, drawing a line on the map with his finger. “Meet back and decide.” Mayra nodded and got up, beckoning to Fi, who peeked at Maggie. She was fast asleep. Fi followed Mayra, trailing behind. Mayra’s footfalls were completely silent. Fi had been practicing her silent walk with Mayra’s guidance. She was always amazed watching Mayra’s comfort with the forest.
“Why don’t you tell me more about your father while we walk?” Fi suggested and Mayra smiled. Fi knew that Jose didn’t like to talk about their father, but Mayra did. Fi understood. Mayra was Daddy’s Little Girl too.
“Well,” Mayra said, stopping to make mental notes of their surroundings. “His name was Luis, and he was born in the mountains outside Oaxaca in southern Mexico.” They turned to the left a bit and started walking again. Fi noticed that Mayra had turned back west toward the highway, using the road as a guide. It provided a nearly pure north-south route marker. The terrain was going to get tougher now that they were getting close to the mountains, Fi knew. Soon it would become necessary to use the road as their only path, for better or worse. Mayra continued as they passed through the forest.
“A lot of what we Americans call ‘survival skills’ many rural Mexicans still think of as regular life. My father didn’t originally consider himself a ‘survivalist’. Where he lived, you went on long trips and camped out in the wilderness because you had to hunt and gather things to live. That was normal. But his history made him a natural at navigation, at camping, and at getting food and water out of what seemed like nothing.” Mayra shook her head and Fi could sense the pride in her voice.
“When he came to the U.S., he was about my age,” Mayra’s voice softened. Fi could see her thinking about that, about the passage of time. “He said he always loved that there was life and buzz and energy here, and opportunity of course, but he liked to get out into the woods and wilderness too. It reminded him of home and made him happy.” Mayra chuckled, “Of course he also liked to go out in the winter and drag us out there with him. I never wanted to go out in winter, but he was insistent.” She sighed. “Guess that was a good thing. I used to call him crazy man,” she laughed, holding back a heavy branch for Fi to pass through behind her.
“There was nothing he liked better than catching a big fish and cooking it over an open fire with all the fresh foods he had gathered on his own. My Papa,” she emphasized, “was a genius with wild edibles. Nothing like our sad attempts,” she shaded her eyes as they stepped out into a clearing. She nodded. “This will do.”
In their travels, Fi had noticed that Mayra had directed them to pick their way cleanly over flat ground between a small wet ravine to the east and a tumble of broken rock to the west. Now they turned back to return to the Family and compare notes with Jose and Sean. Fi chided Mayra about her assessment of their cooking attempts.
“Our cooking doesn’t seem that sad now that you’ve joined us.” Mayra snorted. “No, seriously,” Fi assured her. “Aliyah used to try to make edibles…edible,” Fi started and then laughed, “but you’re the only one who seems to be able to get the good flavors out of things.”
“Or at least I can pound out the bad, right?” Mayra laughed and shook her head, her long, dark braid bobbing. Fi laughed as well. Mayra had a point. Most edibles were naturally bitter and Mayra had a knack for processing them in whatever way was needed: pounding, boiling, drying, mashing. She was a whiz with that kind of thing. The whole Family was relieved when Mayra cooked the edibles, because they knew she would at least make something that was decent to eat. Aliyah liked to watch and was learning some of Mayra’s techniques, insisting that she was not prone to jealousy in the kitchen.
“My dad was the one who taught me that stuff.” Mayra said, “Jose was really interested in the hunting, which I will do if I have to but…” her voice trailed off.
“I know,” Fi agreed. “I felt the same way. I still do really,” she added and Mayra turned to her in surprise. Seeing her expression, Fi felt chagrined. Sean was right; she really never did share her weaknesses. At the same time, she knew that Mayra looked up to her, so it just seemed natural to be open with her about her ‘truths’. Mayra nodded.
“Yes I like to cook what is killed more than I like killing it myself,” she acknowledged. They walked in silence for a bit and then Mayra spoke up again, her voice quiet. “He was going to take us there, to Oaxaca,” she murmured. “Every camping trip we took he’d say, ‘Just wait until I show you both my home…you will never be the same,’” Her voice was sad.
Fi reached out and touched Mayra’s arm, turning her so that she they faced each other. Mayra’s eyes brimmed with tears and Fi folded her into a hug. Fi was so small herself that she wasn’t much bigger than Mayra, but she knew how to give a serious hug. That was a hand-me-down from Maggie, she thought with a smile.
“I’m so sorry Mayra,” she said as she released her. “I know exactly how you feel.” Her eyes welled with tears as well as she thought of her own father. Mayra wiped her face and sniffed.
“Long story short,” Mayra said and turned away. “He was awesome.” A few silent tears finished their race down her soft cheeks. They walked together in silence, the solidarity of being the surviving daughter of a devoted father joining them where words did not. Fi knew that when she got back to their resting spot she would find Asher watching over Maggie, chatting quietly with her whenever she was awake. It made her smile to think about it. Just as Sean had predicted, Asher had fallen in love with Maggie.
“Hey there,” Fi said when they returned, settling down next to a resting Asher. She landed so that her leg was pressed to his and she felt him stiffen and then shift and move over, separating them. Fi felt her stomach tighten in frustratation. What was going on, she wondered? It was one thing if she reached out for him intentionally, but he had to pull away when she touched him by accident? Ouch.
Fi had noticed in the past few weeks that Asher had grown reticent to touch her. Really she had noticed that he had started to pull away when she reached to touch him, even silly touches like a punch or a shove. What was most depressing was how much it bothered her. She had so much other crap going on and all she could think about was why this one Family Member was rejecting her.
Asher opened one eye and nodded toward the dozing Maggie. He put his finger to his lips and smiled gently before he closed his eyes and put his head back again. Ok, Fi thought, he wasn’t exactly rejecting her. He was kind and supportive and friendly and funny. To be honest, he was a stellar Family Member because he was that way to everyone. He indulged her, playing her silly word games and listening to her stories. The only reason he talks to me more than the others is because he was once a Leader too, she told herself. There is no one else who knows what that’s like. I shouldn’t have mistaken it for anything else. I shouldn’t be focused on something so stupid, she chastised herself.
It was obvious why Asher pulled away whenever they touched, she thought. He was embarrassed for her. She was like an overly forward child, like Kiara, throwing herself at people. Uncomfortable at the thought, she shifted. Let Maggie think what she wanted, Fi knew the truth. It was too embarrassing to explain it to Maggie anyway. And no matter how much it hurt, she would have t
o get over it and focus on being Asher’s friend and the Family Leader.
Maggie’s Last Days
----------- Fi -----------
For the first time that she could remember since they set out, Fi doubted her choice. Enslaved by her brain’s addiction to free association, the word Gethsemane ghosted through her consciousness over and over as the cold, unceasing rain fell. They huddled beneath a tree where Fi had fixed her small tarp to cover Maggie and Kiara. Only one remaining tent did not have a leak, so tarps were just as good now if not better, but Fi wished she could get Maggie someplace dry to rest.
This is my fault, she thought as stray raindrops slipped off the tarp onto her hood. It’s my fault these people have wandered into the wilderness, away from the safety of the reserves in the city. What was I thinking? Just an idea, a dream, from my father. I don’t even know for certain that we’re even going the right way, she thought, choking back a sob. How in the hell did I end up here?
As she tightened the straps holding the tarp in place, she wiped the rain and tears from her face with the back of her hand. She ducked beneath and knelt beside her mother. Maggie lay inside her sleeping bag. Despite the hot days, the mountain nights were cool and so was the rain. Kiara lay curled beneath Maggie’s arm. Her childish snores gave an oddly restful feeling to the scene. Maggie’s eyes were closed and she looked peaceful. Fi’s gaze scanned her body, taking in the truth before her.
Her mother’s skin had become paper-thin just like her father’s had at the end. There was no way to keep food in her, even if she had an opportunity to eat. All Fi could give her were mint leaves to help settle her stomach and quiet her hunger. Her hair had fallen out and Fi could see her scalp in patches and her eyelids looked blue, the small veins showing through the thin skin almost like eye makeup. Fi’s beautiful, vibrant Maggie was almost gone. It was only a matter of time.
“Mama?” she whispered, unsure if her mother was asleep. Her mother’s eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on Fi.
“Hello baby,” she said. She gestured for Fi to be quiet and nodded toward Kiara. Fi smiled.
“Mama, you know you could shout at me and Kiara wouldn’t wake up.” Maggie chuckled, being careful not to jostle Kiara.
“The sleep of the innocents,” she said lovingly, “you were no different. Your father used to joke that you could sleep through a natural disaster…” her voice trailed off. “I guess Kiara isn’t so innocent anymore,” she said, her brows knitting together.
“Here Mama, I have some broth for you.” Fi offered the cup. “Please try to drink some.” Her mother shook her head.
“Fi I should not be taking this portion, I know the rations are growing short.” Fi frowned.
“I don’t care, consider it a benefit of being related to the Leader of the Family.” Though Fi was joking by invoking her title, it was hard earned and she knew, as did the others in the Family, that Maggie’s time was drawing near. There were no rules against trying to provide some small comfort in the end. They weren’t animals. Maggie acquiesced and reached for the cup of broth. Fi helped Maggie’s shaking hand to grasp the handle of the mug, drawing it to her mouth. She sipped tentatively, waiting to see if it would stay down.
“Aaaahhhh,” she sighed. “That is nice. Gentle. Thank you so much. This is very kind.” Fi saw the gleam in Maggie’s eyes. Oh no, she thought, I don’t know if I can take it if Maggie cries now. She was having such a hard time keeping it together in front of the Family as it was. Even so, she couldn’t be cold with Maggie.
“What is it Mama?”
“Oh, it’s good really.” Maggie said, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’m just so incredibly proud of you. I would have been so tortured leaving Kiara in this godforsaken world we created.” At this, she nearly spat. “But I know that she will be guarded by the bravest, strongest, most amazing Leader of the Family that could possibly be.” She nodded her head with pride and took a breath, “In this new world you’re her best chance and I can rest knowing that my death need not be hers as well.”
“Oh Mama.” Fi whispered as tears welled in her eyes. She took the cup from her mother and smoothed her hair as she lay back down beside Kiara. “Mama, you know I will not let anything happen to either of you.”
“Fi, my darling,” Maggie smiled. “My well-being is out of your hands and that is best. Besides Kiara you have sixteen souls in your care. I don’t know how a world can require so much of a young girl, but you’ve met the challenge. You have what it takes.”
A sudden coughing fit wracked Maggie’s body. Kiara awoke and scuttled out of the way quickly to give her mother room. Her eyes were wide. Fi held her hand and they sat on the wet ground by Maggie’s side until her coughing subsided. The rain dripped off the tarp edge, finding it’s way inside the neck of Fi’s jacket and she shivered.
After it was over, there were blood flecks on Maggie’s soft grey shirt and sleeping bag. Fi sent Kiara to get some water while she wiped Maggie’s mouth and face with a soft cloth. When Kiara returned, Maggie had settled into a light rest, almost like a waking sleep.
“Fi?” Kiara’s voice was shaky. Fi rearranged herself into sitting cross-legged and pulled Kiara into her lap, wrapping her arms around her.
“Yes Kiara?”
“What’s going to happen to Mama?” she whispered as she craned her neck around to look into Fi’s eyes. Fi gently brushed Kiara’s hair and kissed her cheek.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” she said. “Don’t worry baby.” She started to sing Kiara’s favorite song. It was never truly a lullaby, but she loved it. “A long time ago when the Earth was green,” Fi began softly, “there were more kinds of animals than you’ve ever seen. They ran around playing while the Earth was being born, and the loveliest of all was the U-ni-corn…” Kiara settled and sang along, miming all the animals in the song along the way. At the end of the song, Kiara spoke again, her voice flat.
“Mama is going to die, isn’t she Fi?” Fi squeezed her and nodded, knowing that Kiara would feel the motion and understand. Fi felt drops on her forearms and looked up, thinking the rain had come through the tarp. Then she realized she was feeling Kiara’s tears and she gripped her tighter. Together, they cried beside the sleeping Maggie, who breathed in and out softly, her lips making a quiet “puffing” sound each time she exhaled. Their quiet sobs and sniffles broke the silence as they folded into each other.
Within the hour, Fi could tell that Kiara had dropped off to sleep as her body grew heavy and limp. Fi laid her on the mat next to Maggie, deep inside the tarp lean-to. Fi sat up, keeping her vigil, trying not to count Maggie’s breaths. Despite her own exhaustion, sleep was not in the cards. When the first hint of dawn crept into the sky, the sun lit the low clouds from beneath, casting a gentle pink light.
“Red skies in the morning…” Fi murmured with resentment, angry that a memory of her father should come when her burden was already so great. She shook herself from her stupor and turned back to Maggie. Watching her, she began to count in a panic. Maggie’s chest had not risen in thirty seconds, forty seconds, fifty seconds, sixty seconds. Fi reached out, hesitating for a moment, and touched Maggie’s arm.
“Mama?” She shook the arm. “Mama?” The arm did not move. The chest did not rise. Fi held her own breath, waiting, waiting for the realization to settle into her bones. Five minutes, ten minutes, she waited. In the end, she wasn’t sure how long she waited, but eventually she bent over her mother’s thin, cool body and hugged her, kissing her cheeks.
“Mama, no, please!” she begged in a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I should have fought to save you! It wasn’t right for us to just give up!” she sobbed, keeping the sound inside her hollow chest. “I’m sorry, Mama, please forgive me…” she wept as quietly as she could, afraid to wake Kiara. Moaning, she let go of her mother’s body and set her back on the ground and covered her face with the blanket. Then she lifted the sleeping Kiara and carried her out of the tarp. It was time to tell the others. There was a funeral
to plan.
Somehow, the Family managed to make something beautiful out of Maggie’s funeral. They had never lost a Member before, and being on the road, they would have to leave her body behind. The logistics of this horrible event became the welcome distraction. Their only digging tool was a trowel to dig latrines. There was nothing to dig the size of grave that they needed. It was also unsafe to set a large fire in the forest, and Fi wasn’t sure that the Family could handle that anyway. To be fair, she wasn’t sure that she could handle it.
After they had discussed it for an hour or so, Mayra and Jose returned from scouting.
“I think we found it Fi,” Mayra said, her eyes red and puffy. This loss was killing all of them, Fi thought with grief. Mayra held out her hand and Fi grabbed it, standing up and following her lead. She led Fi to a spot about three minutes away where there was a rock formation with a crevice that was almost exactly the same size as a person. It was about two feet above the ground and covered. They would have to slide Maggie’s body in from the side, but if it fit, it would be somewhat protected. It was better than a shallow grave, Fi thought. It would have to do. They walked back to camp and Jose worked with the guys to help safely transport Maggie’s body to the site beneath the blanket.
Every single man in the Family, including Aldy, assisted in lifting and carrying Maggie’s body. It was more out of respect than it was necessity. Maggie weighed very little at the end of her life. Fi turned to the women who had gathered flowers, fruits, and vines and woven them together loosely into a wreath. The group followed the men at Fi’s nod.
When the reached the crevice, the men gently placed Maggie’s body within. Fi sighed. It was the best they could do. Doc Ron removed the blanket from Maggie’s body and the women came forward, laying the wreath of natural beauty on her chest where her hands were folded. In death, Maggie wore her fur vest and it made a fitting shroud, Fi thought. The length lent itself to that sense.
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