by Lynn Lamb
My anger was growing, but I kept myself in check, sitting next to my husband and sending Jackson an occasional unpleasant glance when no one was looking.
“How did you make it through all of that?” I asked. “It seems like you would have died from the virus that’s seething in the debris, being out there, all by yourself.” My venom came out of my mouth before I could stop it. Tabitha shot me a questioning look. I shrugged my shoulders at her in reply.
“I don’t really know,” said Owens. “Just lucky, I guess.”
It was a good enough answer, and it satisfied the crowd who were concerned about their own impending journey. Perhaps they took courage in the fact that he had made it out there, in the thick of it.
By the time we all finished dinner, Owens had won over everyone within hearing distance of his voice.
Their plan worked perfectly. Owens was happily accepted into our group.
December 24
Today, my family and I finished our preparations for leaving the Village so we wouldn’t have to work on Christmas Day. We had moved everything into the foyer so that it could be moved as soon as the truck came the day after we celebrate. I can’t believe tomorrow is Christmas. We have been so busy and it came so quickly. It was really important that I make it as special as I could for Bailey Bug. This is the first one without her mother and father.
Before Bailey went to bed, she asked me if Santa had died in the Last War. This one was very tricky, so I used the old standby. “Bailey,” I said. “Santa is alive as long as he lives in our hearts.”
She looked skeptical. I don’t blame her.
I read to her from a few of Bri and Ammie’s old Christmas stories. She particularly enjoyed Madeline’s Christmas. It made me sad when I realized that she, Bri and Ammie would never see Paris like I had when Annie escorted me on the most amazing trip through Europe as a gift for my college graduation. They wouldn’t have a college graduation either, at least not that I could foretell.
We put out some cookies and powdered milk for Santa Claus, and I tucked an excited girl into bed. It is funny how kids were still just kids in their hearts, even after all that has happened.
We found a beautiful pink Barbie bicycle for Bailey, and Adam said that he would make sure that it is placed on one of the bike racks on the back of an RV. I had also found dolls, books and clothes for her that we would bring in our personal belongings for the trip.
∞
We sat in front of the fire, just Bri, Ammie, Adam, Annie, Jake, Mark and I. We had so many Christmas Eves in front of that very fireplace, but it didn’t feel the same. We knew that this would be the end of the life that we had in Monterey. The room felt heavy around us.
“Hey, I’ll arm wrestle anyone for Santa’s milk and cookies,” said Bri, breaking the tension.
“Ha, I will beat your ass,” said Ammie with a huge smile.
“My money is on Ammie,” said Jake. “She might be small, but she is scrappy.”
We all laughed and rooted them on. Bri, who really wasn’t much bigger than Ammie, had her down in seconds.
“Okay,” I said. “Enough. We can’t sit around here crying about leaving. We have had time to adjust, so let’s just have one last great memory here.” I said it as much for myself as anyone else.
“You are right, sis,” agreed Jake. “Let’s do something.”
“I’ve got it,” I said. I grabbed the walkie and brought it into the bedroom so no one could hear me.
Within twenty minutes, Jill and Holly showed up at our front door. Jill was carrying all of the makings for Hot Toddies, and Annie put on the tea kettle for hot water.
Mrs. Ingram came out of her room after hearing all of the revelry. We convinced her to stay and celebrate with us. And celebrate we did. Annie found enough food to make us a smorgasbord, and Mark got on the walkie to tell everyone who felt like a Christmas Eve party to get themselves over to our place as soon as they could.
Before we knew it, we had about forty people in our living room. I guess we weren’t the only ones needing a pick-me-up tonight.
Everyone brought all of the food and alcohol they could spare, and before we knew it we had a full blown party on our hands.
And those were the happiest moments we have had since the war.
Jackson brought Owens, who was staying with him until we left. Owens mingled like an old pro; maybe too well for someone who had presumably just finished the horrific journey he had told everyone about. But our guests were having such a good time they didn’t notice.
“Check this out,” said Samantha. She held up some old, plastic holly that we had out as a decoration, and, with Mark’s help, hung it from the ceiling. She grabbed her wife, Carrie, and ducked her into a kiss under the quasi-mistletoe.
Mark grabbed me for a big kiss, and others lined up to do the same with their loved ones. Billy kissed Annie, who blushed deeply.
Bailey came into the living room, her eyes wide. “Is Santa here?” she asked with a yawn.
“Not yet, Bailey Bug,” said Ammie. “But do you want to come and join the party?”
Bailey took her hand excitedly and pulled her into the middle of the merriment. Hershey went rushing after them, basking in all of the attention from our guests.
Jackson, who contributed several six packs to the festivities, leaned against a door jamb wearing street clothes, bottle in hand. He smiled and lifted the bottle in my direction. I smiled and returned the toast with my glass of Hot Toddy; a cease fire for the occasion.
Samantha brought a karaoke machine with her, and we made our own entertainment. I was flabbergasted when Jackson sang Jon Bon Jovi’s, Blaze of Glory. He actually had a pretty good singing voice. When I concentrated on the lyrics, it made me a little nervous about how he was imagining our upcoming trip. “Staring down a bullet let me make my final stand.”
Maybe it should be the theme song for the journey ahead. Is he Billy the Kid or am I?
The rest of the songs were more upbeat. Adam and Mark’s rendition of It’s Raining Men brought the house down. I considered singing I Will Survive, but I saved everyone the agony of listening to my voice.
I looked around at all of my friends who were joyfully celebrating the night, and I realized something. These weren’t just fellow survivors, or even just Villagers; this was my family. And these people were far more important than the wood, stone, brick and mortar of where we dwelled.
Just like that, I wasn’t heartbroken to leave anymore because I wasn’t leaving my home; I was bringing it with me.
And the night felt right, as we made our final memories in our happy home.
December 25
Bailey woke everyone early. My head was still thumping from last night. I am not used to drinking like that.
Bailey’s face was priceless when she saw her bike and the rest of her gifts. The adults had decided not to give each other anything, as there was little room in our bags for much more.
The only exception to that rule was for Mrs. Ingram.
Bailey, who had a smile from ear to ear, handed Mrs. Ingram one carefully wrapped gift (and yes, we had some left over wrapping paper from last year’s Christmas).
She opened it, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. It was a framed picture of the whole family, with her, sitting in her wheelchair, in front of the old Town Hall. She held it to her chest, as if she could absorb our love through the photograph.
Annie miraculously had saved enough flour to make us a pancake breakfast. We all savored every syrup-less, butter-less bite.
Even more miraculously, there was no sadness about our plight now.
Even Mrs. Ingram was happy. She seemed to be at peace that this would be her final Christmas.
∞
So many people stopped by today to deliver warm wishes and other goodies. We all knew that we couldn’t take much with us, so they brought us everything from wine, to soda, to homemade crocheted scarves. Perhaps the best offering came from Charlotte Copeland. She brough
t us a pineapple minus the top greens. I couldn’t believe it.
“This one was ready to eat, so I cut off the top so that we can grow more,” Charlotte told us.
“How did you grow this,” asked a bewildered Mark. “Monterey has never had the climate for growing that kind of fruit has it?”
“I have been growing them in my greenhouse here for years,” she explained. “You twist or cut the crown off of a ripe pineapple, and let it sit a couple of days. Then, you plant it in a pot of soil with good fertilizer. Mist it with water every day. It’s not really that hard once you get the hang of it. I have been doing similar things with table scraps for years. I have mushrooms, carrots, ginger and avocados, too. We are going to bring almost all of my fruits and veggies with us on the beds of the trucks. Thomas has covered them with the plastic and glass that we farmed from some of my greenhouses. We will be heating the raised bed platforms from the truck engines. Pretty clever, huh?”
“Clever doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I said. “I would have never guessed this was possible. How could we have been so wasteful before? Thank you, Charlotte, for everything. Your work is helping to give us hope that our children will live to be our age. How do I begin to repay that gift?”
“Heavens, girl,” she replied. “I wish I had done more before the war, too. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? You enjoy this bit of the Islands, and I will see you all tomorrow. Merry Christmas and much love everyone.” She waved and left us to our delicious pineapple.
I only took a few bites and let Bailey eat the rest of my share. All of the other adults did the same. Ammie explained that Bailey’s growing body needed the vitamin C, vitamin B1, vitamin B6, dietary fiber and folate more than ours. Our little girl ate pineapple until the juices ran down her face.
“Pineapple is my favorite now,” she proclaimed.
The best gift was that we will have more and more fruits and vegetables for our future if we are careful not to take what we do have for granted.
Thank you, Charlotte.
Annie took down the tree and packed up the decorations at the end of the day. We all pitched in and started organizing for the trip while Bailey happily played with her new toys.
December 26
This morning we were ready when the trucks came for our sixteen-gallon plastic tub filled with our memories. We each would have a suitcase for our essentials for the trip. For our family of eight, we were able to pack most everything fairly easily. We even had room for Bailey’s toys and Ammie’s text books.
Things were moving at a brisk clip when Jackson came to pick up Mrs. Ingram to bring her to the hospital. She sat, looking so small and fragile in her wheelchair. Her bags were packed and ready to go.
“Can we take one last picture?” Mark asked. He handed the camera to Jackson, signaling that he would not be included in our photographic memories.
“Everyone, gather around Mrs. Ingram for a picture,” commanded Jackson. He was definitely grumpy today.
“We'll send messages to you on the ham radio,” I told Mrs. Ingram. “Maybe they will even bring you to the radio so that you can hear our voices.”
“Don’t forget what gets you through, Laura,” she advised me. “It is your inner strength. Use your intuition. It will always guide you to the right path.”
Ten hospital staff would stay behind with their patients. We made plans that, when the time was right, we would come back for them. That would only be when their patients were either well enough to travel or when they were dead. Sadly, the latter seemed the more probable scenario.
We said our good-byes, and it was painfully hard. Mrs. Ingram shed tears and offered us well wishes for our journey. I wondered if she was fearful of us making it over the perils of the snowy and jagged hillsides we would be traveling through or if it was something more that made her so sad.
I didn’t want to believe that would be the last we ever saw of Mrs. Ingram, but in my heart I felt it. It was nearing the end for the elderly woman who had survived the end of the world.
∞
After Mrs. Ingram departed, we really started moving on our plans. Still, the sadness stayed with us throughout the day.
We toiled through meeting after meeting to make sure that everything was organized and settled.
It seemed like everyone in the Village needed to speak with me, urgently. Most of the questions had already been covered, but I suspected that everybody was just nervous and looking for reassurance. I took on that role with patience and compassion because I really did understand. I wish there was someone for me to go to for comfort, but I was the leader. I had to find my path, as Mrs. Ingram had counselled.
The greatest fear that kept circling my mind was, if we lost any Villagers, it would be on my watch.
∞
The only Villager who didn’t want to come to me for support was the one I needed to meet with the most. I dreaded calling for him, but he carried the ability to bring us all down with his preaching of the scriptures as he saw them, so I had no choice.
“Good afternoon,” I said to Steven. He walked into my office, and I gestured to the seat in front of my desk. “I appreciate you coming.”
“Yeah, well … I am pretty busy getting ready.” He was obviously irritated by my request to meet with him.
“Yes, we all are,” I told him.
I probably sounded as put out as he did. There was no love lost between me and Rolette, but he is a Villager, and I am ethically bound to offer him everything that I am offering to all of the Villagers.
Who said that he is part of my ethical obligations? I did. He is a human being.
“I will get right to the point,” I said firmly, trying not to drop to his level. “You have made it very clear that you don’t approve of my leadership. That is why I was surprised to hear about your plans to come with us. Would you please tell me why you are coming?” In the old world, questions like that would have sounded too impolite.
“I am coming because God told me to find the Promise,” he said. “My Heavenly Father wants those of us who have survived it all to go to where we will be safe so that we can propagate. My seed will reseed the World.”
The thought of that made me cringe. “So, you want to go to Carmel Valley and have a family?” I asked, hoping to clarify his evangelizing prose.
“I will be a father,” he said. “Tiffany is carrying my child, and she also believes that this is what God wants of us.”
My mind went about the arithmetic. It couldn’t have been three weeks since her husband and children had died. Had they been together when her husband was still alive? So many questions were rattling around in my mind, all vying for top billing.
“So, you and Tiffany want to raise a family in the Valley?” was the question that made it to first place on the list.
“Yes, and any other woman who wishes to reseed the earth with my, ah, let’s say ‘virtues,’ ” he had the audacity to say.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Even from him this was very disturbing, or should I say because it was coming from him it was very disturbing? I needed to get him under some kind of control before we started the dangerous journey that lay ahead.
“Mr. Rolette, you may come with us,” I stated flatly. “But you have to abide by our rules. This is by order of the Council. As you must remember, the Villagers have voted, and the word of the Council is final.
“One of the Council’s rulings is that there is to be no recruiting of others to your beliefs. Now, I know you are a smart man and that you understand what I am talking about. We will give you and Tiffany time to worship whatever it is that you worship, but you are not to solicit anyone. And there are to be no secret meetings on any channels on the walkies or in person, at any time.
“Next, we are not bringing any of that crap you have been spewing about other people’s faiths with us. That includes Islam, Judaism, Hinduism and whatever else people believe. I don’t care if they worship rocks or the devil. Understand?”
“Our travels will be through a very rugged landscape, and you will be asked to leave our group if you create any problems during the trip. Of course, if something occurs, we will go through Council proceedings to decide what exactly will be done, but there is a very good possibility that you will be asked to leave us. I don’t want to do that to any of the Villagers, so this is your warning.
“Understand, Mr. Rolette, your hate speech has already made enough trouble. It’s not like it was before the war when high priced lawyers fought for ‘the right to freedom of speech’ with complete disregard to the spread of bigotry and hatred. That world ended itself.”
“I will take it under advisement with God and get back to you,” said a scarlet-faced Rolette.
“You should also take it up with Tiffany. After all, it impacts her life, too. If you show up at our four thirty call time ready to leave tomorrow morning, then we will know what decision you both have made. And if you don’t show, we will also know what you have chosen.”
I dismissed him for more important travel business.
∞
Later in the afternoon, I checked the vehicle lineup. Adam, Billy, Bri and Jackson were guiding the cars into position for inspection by the mechanic.
I videoed the long line of cars for the record. People have become so used to me with my camera that they don’t seem to notice it any more. Good, because it’s coming with us.
Bruce Lefebure had owned a garage before the end. He would be driving his tow truck, in addition to leading a team of people in charge of gassing the vehicles and general maintenance. Bruce was the only actual mechanic from before the war. We have about five men who loved cars and tinkered with their own, but Bruce will be in charge of the heavy lifting when it comes to all things cars.
“Bruce, it’s good to see you,” I said, offering my hand. He pulled me in for a hug. The others came over to deliver their reports, but Bruce was the man I really wanted to hear from.