by Hannah Ross
"D'you think it's far yet?" asked Tom in a hushed voice.
Ben shrugged, feigning indifference. There was nobody to ask. Mr. Bradley was up front with the driver.
"Can't be," Elisa said, glancing at a battered, cheap wristwatch. It was a years-old gift from Mrs. Stocking, who annually spent her own wages on Christmas presents for the children, but never birthday presents. None of the children knew the exact day of their birth. Knowing the year was supposed to be enough for them. "Do you remember how they took us to the evaluation center last year? They said it was on the outskirts of our Island and the drive there took nearly as long. We must be nearing the Boundary."
No one was cheered by the memory, but still they welcomed knowing they would soon step off the bus.
Not quite ten minutes later, the bus stopped, and men's voices could be heard talking quietly outside. Mr. Bradley hopped out. Moments later he stepped back in and they heard a great creaking, almost wailing sound, as the gate was opened and the bus drove through. It was done; the children had crossed the Boundary. They were outside the area which, since the War, was kept safe from pollution and possible military action. Nobody shouted a warning or uttered premonitions. And nobody bothered to wish them luck as the wheels of the bus rolled on, carrying the children to their precarious fate.
Seconds later, they felt a change. The road was not as smooth and well-tended as before. The bus slowed and did funny little jumps now and then. It navigated several bends and curves, and at one point, went uphill. Benjamin could tell the bus was not built to cope with roads that had been abandoned for decades. He and the others had to clench their jaws to keep their teeth from rattling.
And then it was over.
The bus stopped and the front and back doors opened with a whoosh. Everyone grabbed their bags and coats and headed out, but without any of the pushing and shoving that usually accompanied their school outings. Nobody was in a hurry to meet the place where they would be abandoned.
When Benjamin, Tom, and Elisa stepped out, they looked around, then joined the others around Mr. Bradley, who was standing with his hands in his pockets, surveying the scene. There was nothing to mark the location. It was simply the end of a gravel road.
Benjamin stood in the middle of the field and took a second look around. Seems nice enough. Nothing like what I'd imagined, though. It might have been part of a farm before the war. Just a field of wildflowers, now. He took a deep breath and smiled. Nice. Too bad the orphanage never smelled this way. I wonder if there's any animals in the woods over there. Maybe we can hunt them. He turned his attention to the small, lazy river that rolled out from behind the trees and wound its way into the distance like a fat snake lazing in the sun. Plenty of water. Maybe fish, too. I suppose they could have dumped us in worse places.
His thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Bradley, hands still in pockets, rocked on his heels and cleared his throat. "Well. Here we are."
He might have meant to sound sympathetic, but Benjamin felt a prickle of anger. What right does he have to say we, when he'll soon be climbing back on that bus and driving away, leaving us here?
"It's a good place," Bradley said, gesturing toward the woods and the river. "I know it, though I haven't been here in years. Good fishing, game, plenty of firewood. A good season, too, with the days getting longer and warmer. And down the river, a few days' trek, you'll also find abandoned towns. Depressing sight, that, but a good source of supplies."
Hands in his pockets, Bradley rocked on his heels again and cleared his throat. Despite his feelings for the children and the injustice of what was about to happen, the moment arrived when that injustice would be made crystal clear. He was going back to the city, to the Island, to the Protected Area, and they were staying here to fend for themselves as best they could.
As he watched his former teacher fidgeting, Benjamin wondered whether he would offer to stay with them for the first few days, or even the first few hours. The answer came quickly when the bus driver rolled down the side window. Clearly impatient, he said, "Well, then, professor. Are we going back, or what?"
Mr. Bradley gave him an uncomfortable look. "Uhh, yes. Of course. Unless…" His helpless stare made many of the kids understand how guilty he felt for what he was about to do, but for Benjamin, it hardened something in his heart.
For months he's been trying to make us think he was our friend, not just our teacher. He said he cared about us, felt bad for us. Maybe he did. But not enough to share our fate out here in the wilderness. Not even for a day. I guess caring only goes so far.
His voice sharp, his feelings clear, he locked eyes with his former teacher and, speaking for the entire group said, "We'll be fine. You can go."
Few looked as confident as Benjamin tried to sound. Two girls who usually chatted and giggled at the back of the classroom were now on the verge of tears.
Elisa stepped closer and gave the perturbed teacher a consoling smile. "It's alright, Mr. Bradley. Really. We'll be fine." She patted her backpack. "I have your book with me."
Bradley's chin trembled the slightest bit as he returned her smile. He opened his mouth, as if about to say something else, but the bus driver clicked his tongue and repeated, "Well, then," obviously in a hurry to depart.
With a final, resolute nod, Bradley said, "This is it, then. Good luck."
He shook hands with some of the boys. Though Benjamin hesitated, he briefly grasped the teacher's outstretched hand, too. No point in being bitter, I guess. It's not his fault and we'll probably never see each other again. And I guess maybe he did care a little, unlike most of the other teachers.
"Wait just a moment," Bradley told the driver.
He drew Benjamin to the side, reached inside his coat, and thrust something into the boy's hand. Benjamin recognized the item at once. It was the small pair of binoculars he saw many times in Mr. Bradley's office.
"Here," Bradley said quietly, "I thought these might come in useful."
"Thanks," said Benjamin as he stowed the gift in a pocket of his backpack. "But why me?"
"Because, unless I'm a really lousy judge of character, people will look up to you now. You've always been quiet, but you're smart and, I think, resourceful. And you have the two qualities that are essential to a true leader – you can make decisions and you don't care three straws what others think of you. It won't be easy, Ben, but take care of them as best you can."
With that, he turned and waved at the others as he stepped onto the bus. They all watched as it drove away.
It was done.
Behind her, Elisa heard a sniffle. She turned and said, "Okay now. We're here, all alone in this wild place, far away from the orphanage, from Madam Hart's cruelty, from Mrs. Stocking's care, and Mr. Bradley's instructions. We're far away from lessons and bedtime and those terrible meals in the dining hall. We're far away from the showers and library and everything we used to know. That was our old life. This is our new one and we all have to work together. Okay?"
The concept was too strange and too grand for some to grasp at once, but one of the girls said, "I think it must be about lunchtime."
No one checked the time, but they all knew she was probably right. They had taken their meals at fixed hours for so long their stomachs were more precise than alarm clocks.
"Well, we have food," said Jimmy, who was making an admirable effort to hold up. "We could take out some of it."
The orphanage did provide some food for them to take along, including tins of sardines, packets of crackers, canned meat, dried noodles, raisins, and salt. It was enough for a few days, perhaps a week if they rationed it, but not more. They were also given a change of clothes and underwear, matches and candles, some basic medicine and bandages, flashlights and batteries, compasses, and maps. Each backpack was topped off by a rolled-up sleeping bag.
"We shouldn't touch our supplies yet," Benjamin told Jimmy. "We should try to find something to eat."
"What, here?" said the girl who wanted lunch, looking aroun
d in disbelief.
"'Of course," said Tom. "If it turns out we can't, we're in deep trouble, aren't we? That was the whole point of Bradley's lessons."
"Where should we start looking, then?" Jimmy asked. He picked up a handful of grass, rolled it between his fingers, and smelled it, as though unsure whether he should try to taste it or not.
"We're not cows, Jimmy," Ben said, which drew some laughter. "We should get closer to the river. We're far more likely to find something there."
He was a lot less confident than he sounded, unsure if they would find anything by the river. But thanks to what Mr. Bradley said, he did understand that at this moment, sounding certain was more important than being certain. Everyone needed someone who seemed sure of what he's doing. Otherwise, they would all break down and panic and that would be the end.
He turned and walked toward the river. After a moment, he heard the others following him.
The children's prior experience with water was the steady, regulated flow of a tap or a shower. They never before saw a river or any body of water setting its own boundaries. Now, right in front of them, one was flowing, not to fill a pipe, or irrigate a field, or produce anything of value to humans. It was simply flowing without any apparent purpose, a sparkling silver ribbon bordered by green banks under the blue sky. Benjamin squatted on the riverbank, dipped his hand in the water, and let it flow between his fingers. A few joined him, all mesmerized by their first experience with nature in the wild. Others stood back and followed its winding course as far as the eye could see.
"Where do you think this river ends?" asked Elisa, squinting at the local map. "I wish we had asked Mr. Bradley which one it is." She frowned. "It could be any of these."
"What does it matter?" snapped David Oak. "Why should we care where this damn river ends? It's all the same to us. No matter where you look, we're in the middle of nothing. A great, big, empty nothing." Back at the orphanage, he always appeared not to care about anything, but he did not look so indifferent now. Despite his bravado, Elisa could see he felt as scared and lost as the rest of them.
"It might seem that way," Elisa said. "But by knowing where we are, we can better decide where to go. Even if every direction looks the same from here, there are bound to be differences. Some places will be better than others."
"Do you reckon this water is good for drinking?" Tom asked.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," said Benjamin, scooping up some water in his hand. A sharp intake of breath made him turn in Elisa's direction. "What? We have to know. It's important. In case you haven't noticed, we all have only a small bottle of water each."
Having said that, he brought his hand up and dipped his tongue in the water. Then he turned toward the others, stuck it out, and said, "Is it turning green or black or anything?"
When several of the kids laughed, he leaned closer to the surface of the river. Small, rounded stones could be seen below the little rippling waves. The water was perfectly clear, and smelled fresh, so he scooped up a double handful and made a bold swallow. Then another. He grinned.
"Well?" Tom asked.
"It tastes just fine. A little different from the tap water at school, maybe, but it's good." He took another swallow, stood, and declared, "It's better than tap water."
Elisa gave an almost imperceptible frown and shake of the head, but said nothing.
Ben understood. He dried his hands on his pants, then drew her aside and said, "I know we don't know what drinking this water might do if it's polluted or something, but what choice do we have. The water in our bottles won't last a day. I suppose we should probably at least boil it to kill any germs, but it tastes good and isn't making me sick so that has to be good enough right now. Do you see any other options?"
"No," she said. "I guess not. Maybe they dropped us here because they knew the water was okay."
Behind them, they heard Tom say, "It doesn't look deep. We could wade across, make it to the woods on the other side."
"What for?" asked Lauren Brown as she toyed with her long, dark braid. "It's a lot nicer here."
"No, Tom is right," said Elisa. "We'll do better if we cross. It will be evening soon, and we'll need shelter and firewood."
"And besides," added Tom, "there might be something in the woods we could hunt! We're supposed to get our own food, right? So we'd better start now."
He looked excited as the children removed their shoes and socks and rolled up the pant legs of their school uniforms up to their knees. The water was shallow, and they all made it to the other side with practically dry clothes, except for Jimmy Stone, who slipped in the water, landed on his bottom, and came out sopping wet from head to toe.
Some of the others laughed, but Eliza helped him up and said, "No matter, Jimmy. We'll just hang around here while you change."
He spotted a clump of bushes and hastened to retreat there. A few minutes later he reappeared in dry clothes, holding his dripping wet clothes in one hand and his equally wet shoes in the other.
"You don't have to put them on right away," Ben said. "The sun's warming everything up. We'll walk here on the bank for a while so you can go barefoot."
The prospect of stepping barefoot on soft new grass was, in fact, so appealing that several children took off their shoes as well and tied them to the backpacks by their laces.
Meanwhile, Eliza was looking happier by the second. "Look! Here's wild asparagus, and cattail, and chickweed. They're all good to eat. And there might be more plants around here we can eat." She started picking until she had an armful.
"Are you sure you can eat these?" Lauren asked, staring suspiciously at heap of plants.
Eliza nodded. "Of course. Here, they all appear in this book, clear as can be." To further her point, she nibbled on a bit of wild asparagus.
"Well, that's great," said Tom, "but when I think dinner, I usually have something more substantial in mind than a pile of weeds, you know?"
Elisa looked hurt. "These are all very nutritious…"
"Yeah, sure. Still, I think we should try hunting. Who's coming into the woods with me?"
Ben and several others wanted to join him while the others stayed by the river.
For the first time in his life, Benjamin entered a forest. In library books, he read tales of ancient rainforests, of trees taller than houses, standing so close together a man would find it difficult to squeeze between them, and of dense, dark green leafy canopies casting a shadow so thick no ray of sunlight could penetrate it. This forest, however, was nothing like it. "These woods can't be too old. The trees aren't very tall and they're kind of far apart. I'd bet it all started growing here after the war. But there are things living here. I can hear them scurrying around."
As he spoke, a few birds took flight from a nearby tree.
"Those were pretty small," said a disappointed Tom. "And whatever we're hearing can't be much bigger than a mouse."
"Well, what did you expect?" asked Jimmy, who joined them because he felt safer next to Ben and Tom. "Chickens roaming in the wild?"
"Geese," said Tom. "Maybe ducks. Partridges, pheasants…any of those birds Mr. Bradley said were good eating."
Jimmy grunted. "And what would you do with one if you caught it? Do you know how to clean it and cook it?"
"It doesn't matter right now," Ben said. "We'll figure it out. Besides, it's spring. Mr. Bradley mentioned the best season for fowl-hunting is in the autumn. I don't think you'll see anything here that won't be a waste of arrows."
One of the many contradictions surrounding their fate was that it was perfectly legal to send unwanted twelve-year-old children across the border of civilization and abandon them. But being minors, they could not be given firearms for hunting. Instead, they were given ancient hunting bows and a supply of arrows. Mr. Bradley showed them how to fashion new ones out of wood, but they were never given the opportunity to practice with the weapons while at the orphanage. Bradley knew it would take time for them to become proficient in their use s
o he unofficially advised them to roam through abandoned towns in search of old firearms and ammunition and teach themselves to use rifles. He also secretly handed out booklets for beginner hunters from before the War. It was the most he could do for them.
"So what do you think we should do?" asked Tom, his shoulders slumping a bit.
"Go back to the river," said Ben, "and try to catch some fish."
Everyone looked a little surprised at them coming back so soon. Benjamin noticed Elisa looked relieved to see them return empty-handed. He knew she had a soft spot for animals, and would hate to actually kill something in order to eat it, but doubted this spirit would last long if she were faced with starving.
He was first to sit on the riverbank with the fishing rod in his hands, and felt a little silly since he had never seen anyone do it before. But soon, several others took their fishing rods, tackle, and bait out of their backpacks and scattered here and there near the water, some frowning in concentration, some grinning a little, as if not believing it could ever work. Others spread out to explore the area, turning old logs and stones, and searching for anything edible, but few had much success except Elisa, who gathered more wild-growing herbs.
As Elisa was thinking she should spend some time making sure the others all knew how to identify wild edibles, Benjamin felt something pull on the rod. Without thinking, he pulled too, hard, and a large trout came flapping out onto the shore. Emboldened by his success, Ben hastened to grab the slippery, thrashing body of the fish so it would not slip back into the water. Several kids around him whooped and cheered.
"Well done, Ben!" said Tom, clapping him on the back.