The Last Tribe

by Brad Manuel

  Greg turned to go back inside. He neglected to wear a coat, and the short walk outside gave him a chill. Rebecca was on the porch in her coat holding car keys.

  “Now that I don’t have to conserve fuel, let’s take the car. It’s not far to the store, but it’s cold and I don’t want to walk.” She jiggled the keys. “I also need to practice my driving if I’m going to make it all the way to Hanover.”

  “Practice?” Greg replied in a tone that relayed question as well as concern.

  “Just get your coat and let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

  Greg did as he was told. He grabbed a coat, jumped in the SUV, and buckled his seatbelt. The garage door was closed. Rebecca sat in the driver’s seat.

  “Well?” She asked.

  “Well what? I’m here, ready to go.” Greg told her.

  “I can press the garage door opener as many times as you’d like. It’s not going to work. Could you please pull the garage open so we can leave? I mean, is chivalry dead?” She looked at him impatiently.

  “Oh, yeah, hey, let me get it.” He unbuckled and jumped out of the truck to open the door. When he was back in his seat he apologized. “Okay, sorry, now we’re good.”

  Rebecca turned the key and put the small SUV into reverse. She slowly took her foot off the brake and the vehicle backed out of the garage. There was a small down slope to the driveway and the SUV picked up speed. Rebecca did not panic, but she did not respond quickly enough. She spun the wheel to turn the speeding car towards the store. She and Greg rocked to their side, out of control as the SUV spun. Rebecca slammed on the breaks and the teens whipped forward. Greg almost hit his head on the dash.

  “Whoa.” Greg blurted.

  Rebecca maintained her composure. “Sorry about that. I’m a little rusty. To be honest, I’m also not that great a driver. Now you know the real reason we rode the bikes to the barn.” She gave Greg a shoulder shrug before sliding the gearshift into drive and pulling her foot off the brake.

  They jerked forward and backwards as Rebecca practiced her driving. The store was a mile away from their house. It was a good sized grocery, but not the size of the large box stores. Greg was reminded of the family owned marts that served island and beach communities up and down the southern coast, stores with six aisles, a meat counter, and basic items.

  “I already took everything out of the store, we just need the van. It’s pretty dark in there, or I would show you around. I used to work in it with my parents almost every day after school or volleyball practice. It’s nothing fancy, but it made a living. My father loved feeding the community, talking to people about the local happenings. It was a great store.” Greg looked for sadness in her voice, but Rebecca was happy when she spoke of her old life with her parents.

  She parked the SUV next to the van, and walked over to the delivery truck. The keys were on the seat where Rebecca left them. A sofa cushion was propped against the back of the driver’s seat.

  “The seat doesn’t move and I can’t reach the pedals. Don’t worry, I can drive it. I’m actually better at this truck than I am that SUV. It has less power. I don’t jerk forward and back as much.” She cranked up the van, told Greg to jump in, and they were on their way back to the house.

  Rebecca was right. She was better at driving the van than she was the SUV. The progress was slow but smooth.

  She backed the van against the garage, and they spent the rest of the day loading food, water, and a spare chicken coop into the back. A metal ramp extended from the bottom of the truck. Greg was strong enough to pull large dollies of goods into the back.

  Greg convinced Rebecca there was a bike store and five or more camping/outfitter stores in the Hanover area. Food, animals, clothes, blankets and a few days of firewood were the only necessities. They worked quickly and had the van loaded by late afternoon.

  They sat down on the hearth to enjoy dinner, Rebecca with her back to the fire, Greg on the couch opposite her. It was 6:30pm. The sun was down. They were ready to leave tomorrow, ahead of Rebecca’s schedule.

  “I’ll miss my hometown, but I’m glad to be leaving. There are too many memories here. I need a new start.” It was another reason she agreed to move to Hanover. Concord reminded her of her parents and how their bodies were in a house just a few blocks away.

  “I don’t think this is a mistake for team Greg and Rebecca, I really don’t. If it doesn’t work this winter, we’ll figure something out before next season.”

  “You don’t have to keep convincing me.” Rebecca replied. “Let’s eat our fried rice, get some sleep, and hit the trail tomorrow.”

  Greg improved the food quality substantially since his arrival. He made bread from the pantry ingredients to accompany their soup most nights. He made spaghetti with flat bread his second dinner. Tonight he used eggs for ‘fancied up’ packaged fried rice. He loved to cook. Now that he had ingredients and a frying pan, he could work his magic.

  Rebecca was a utility eater. She took the path of least resistance to calories. Soup and cereal were staples in her diet. She enjoyed more involved meals. She just did not want to cook them.

  It was hardly gourmet fried rice in front of them. Greg made a packaged fried rice mix, let it cool, and cooked eggs and dried chorizo sausage. He re-introduced the previously cooked rice into the proteins, stirred, and voila. It had good flavor and maybe too much heat. He was happy with himself. Rebecca was happy to not eat soup.

  “Look, if you want to pass on the gin tonight, I totally understand.” Greg said in reply to Rebecca’s idea of going to bed after dinner. “I mean, you’re down, well, a lot, and I wouldn’t want to keep losing. Losing isn’t a lot of fun. I’ve lost before, not to you, but in the past, and…”

  “You’re hilarious. Look, it’s a card game, based on the cards I’m dealt, and the guessing of which cards to keep and throw. The skill level is very low. It’s mostly luck, probably why you are so good at it.” Rebecca did not like to lose, and she rarely did. Greg’s teasing stung.

  “Oh, okay, well, we can try luck some other night then. I didn’t mean to get you upset or anything.” He smiled. “It’s not all the much fun to win all the time. Maybe a break would be best.”

  “You clean up your rice pan, I’ll shuffle the cards. We are going to play until I win a hand.”

  “Wait, we have to get to Hanover before the first snow. How about we play until you don’t lose so badly?”

  That was the last straw.

  “Just wash the pan before you become team Greg again, all by yourself, walking to Hanover in the dark with a backpack and cold cans of beans and franks. Actually, I still have that cat food.”

  Rebecca did not win until the seventh game. She still did not like to lose, but she enjoyed playing cards with Greg. His company was a fair trade for losing. Her worm would turn, and she would be the lucky one. At least she hoped her worm would turn. They clicked off their lanterns at 8:30, exhausted and excited for a new adventure.

  19

  The chickens were not excited to leave their coop. They had no choice, but they did not go quietly or nicely. Greg wore oven mitts to corral them into cages for the trip. He kept the mitts on to transport the cage to the van as the chickens pecked at him furiously.

  The teens ate their eggs, cleaned up the living room, and left a simple and informative note on the door;

  Two people, alive on November 19, heading to Hanover, N.H.

  Highway 89 North is breathtaking with rolling hills, scenic valley overlooks, rivers, and mountains. Everything one would expect and want of a New England drive.

  Rebecca was not a confident highway driver. The 60 mile journey took over three hours. She hunched over the steering wheel the entire trip, focusing on the road and her speed.

  Greg encouraged her when possible, but kept quiet for most of the ride so she could concentrate. He had not spoken in over an hour when he noticed the exit for West Lebanon, New Hampshire, a town bordering Hanover.

  “Stop here, on
the overpass.” He asked.

  “What’s up?”

  “This is Lebanon, the town next to Hanover. It has shopping malls, an LL Bean, Home Depot, all the box stores and specialty shops we need. I want to see if the stores are okay.”

  The van rolled to a stop on a bridge. Greg looked out both windows. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” He did not wait for a response. “We’re close. One or two more exits and we’ll be there.”

  “I know I’m driving slowly, but I feel like I’ve got the hang of this. Don’t you?” Rebecca held the large steering wheel, turning it back and forth slightly. Her small thirteen year old hands barely wrapped around the black plastic. She put a second seat cushion behind her that morning. She was sitting on eight inches of truck seat.

  “You are driving great.” Greg replied absently, still looking at the shopping malls. He did not want to hurt her feelings. She was a terrible driver.

  Rebecca patted the wheel before slipping the van into drive. They rumbled up and down several hills before exiting the highway, crossing the Connecticut River and driving up a steep hill on Wheelock Street into Hanover, N.H.

  The sun was shining as they reached the center of town. They stopped at the top of a hill where Wheelock Street intersected with Main Street. Downtown Hanover stretched towards their right. Dartmouth College began to their left and front. The Dartmouth College Green sat off their left front bumper. The Green was a large open area slightly larger than a football field and in the middle of the campus. The normally trimmed grass grew out of control. Deep drifts of leaves covered the open field and much of the campus. Aside from the landscaping, the college and town were intact. There did not appear to be looting or destruction. Hanover was pristine and preserved.

  They idled at the corner of Wheelock and Main Street for a few minutes until Rebecca spoke. “It looks like people fled or died in their homes. I don’t see any looting or damage. It just looks empty.”

  “There aren’t that many people up here. If the tourists didn’t come, and the college students weren’t here, it would just be the people of the town, and, again, there aren’t that many of them.“ Greg visited his grandparents in the summer between terms at the college. The town was not crowded when the college was out of session.

  “It’s only noon. We have a lot of time to find your father’s house, and most importantly find more firewood. We need to stock up immediately. We can live off the food in the truck all winter, but we have to find firewood to survive.” Rebecca turned to Greg while she spoke. He was staring straight ahead, down Wheelock Street.

  Greg’s face was long. He was silent as he looked through the van’s windshield.

  “What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.

  “I’m trying to get my bearings. I think we take a left here, or the next street, I mean, this is a one way. Not that we have to worry about going the wrong way. So, yes, take a left here.” Greg stumbled through his words as he fought back emotions.

  “Seriously, what’s wrong?” Rebecca asked again.

  Greg blinked his eyes before turning to look at her. A tear rolled down his face. His other eye was glassy.

  “I thought someone would be here. I didn’t think I’d be the first one. I thought my Dad would be up here with my brothers. I thought there would be a sign at the top of this hill or smoke visible from a house. I don’t know why, I just thought, you know, if he was alive, he’d be up here.” Greg’s eyes dropped tears down his face. “They’re dead, aren’t they? I’m the only one alive. Everyone is dead.” He sat expressionless, tracks showing on his dirty face. Greg realized for the first time he may be the lone survivor of his family.

  “I don’t know. Your dad said he’d be here in the spring. It’s only November. Maybe it didn’t kill everyone in South Carolina right away and he couldn’t leave. Maybe he got caught by the police. We don’t write them off until summer. Remember our deal? You believe for the both of us. I keep you alive.” She put her hand on his leg. “We can do this. We need to find the house and set up. It’s going to be cold tonight. We need fire. We need to get ready for winter. It could snow tonight or this afternoon.”

  She squeezed his knee gently. “Greg, I need you.”

  He sniffed his nose loudly. Rebecca reached into her pocket and gave him a tissue. “Okay.” He sniffed again. “Okay. Drive up to the next road on the other side of this field and take a left.” Rebecca followed his directions. Greg recognized the Medical school as a landmark. “Take another left, then take that catty corner.”

  “What’s a catty corner?” Rebecca asked. Her face scrunched up like he was talking gibberish.

  “What do you mean? It’s a hitch in the road. You see it up ahead. This road stops and then continues but five feet to the right. That’s a catty corner.” Greg was stunned she had never heard the expression. It was so common to him.

  “I think you’re making that up, but okay.”

  They drove a short way down the road. A pond was on the right. Tall tan field grass surrounded the water. The pond was still free of ice. Greg instructed her to take a left at the bottom of the hill. Two houses up the road was his father’s childhood home.

  “I can’t believe I found it so quickly. I mean, it’s not a big town, and I’ve been here a bunch of times, but I thought I might get lost.”

  “So this is it, huh? Wow, it certainly is big.”

  The house was enormous, a giant red brick home on a corner lot. It looked old. There were two chimneys visible.

  “My grandfather worked at the college. This was the house they gave him. It’s old, old enough to have lots of New England winter essentials. I mean, I guess, that’s what my dad told me. I’ve never actually been in the house.”

  Rebecca turned to him. “What? You’ve never been in this house? You brought me up here and you have no idea if the fireplaces are gas? You don’t know if it’s been remodeled inside, and not suitable for a non-electric winter? Are you crazy?”

  “Calm down, it’s like you said, there are other houses we can find if this one doesn’t work. I know our family cottage will work if this one doesn’t. The cottage is small, heats well with the wood stove, is on a lake in the woods. I have a back up.”

  Rebecca could not hide her anger.

  “I’m sorry.” He conceded. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I didn’t think about it. I am following my father’s instructions, I just blindly assumed he would lead me to a good house.”

  “Greg, we are all we have. It’s you and me. We have to make decisions together with all the available information. This is life and death. We’re in serious stuff.” Rebecca, all of thirteen, understood the gravity of the situation. Playtime was over. Greg had to realize chasing turkeys and not telling her everything about a new location was unacceptable. It was life threatening.

  “Got it. Lesson learned. Let’s move on and check out the house.” Greg understood. Before he became a team he could make mistakes like falling asleep in the SUV during his hike from Andover. He was only hurting himself. Future mistakes put Rebecca at risk.

  They backed the van into the driveway, put on coats and gloves, and got out to investigate. Greg opened the back of the van to let the chickens breathe fresh air and see sunlight.

  They clucked angrily from their cage. One chicken lay motionless in the cage.

  “Damn.” Greg muttered. “One of the chickens died.”

  “It was going to happen in the move. If we only lose one, I’ll be happy.” Rebecca looked at the other birds for indications of stress or illness. “I factored in the risk when we moved. I assume we’ll lose all of the chickens. They are finicky animals, prone to illness, stress, whatever. I knew taking them from their home would do this.”

  “You didn’t tell me the chickens would die.” Greg was surprised. “Why did you agree to move?”

  “Like I said, I was moving anyway. They would have died anyway. Maybe they die sooner because we came to Hanover, I don’t know, but you were coming here with or without me.
” She shrugged her shoulders and moved passed him towards the backyard.

  The house’s lot was sloped showing three stories from the front, and four stories from the back. The basement was built into the hill. The center of the house encompassed the four stories. Two story sections flanked the main house.

  An attached garage on the right had a sunroom above it. A railing on the roof of the sunroom suggested a deck.

  The left flank was brick with a turret of stairs to the second floor.

  The basement was a walkout spanning the entire bottom floor of the four story main house. A roof covered a back patio area.

  “It looks dark in the basement. Let’s grab some flashlights.” Greg went back to the truck and got headlamps and floodlights. Rebecca tried the back door. It was locked.

  Rebecca tried a second door on the back of the house towards the left side. The door did not have a window. It was also locked.

  “What do you want to do? Break the door? We can’t do that if we want to live here. Break a window? I’m not sure that is a good idea either.” She looked for potential ways into the house.

  “Let’s try all the doors and windows before we jump to conclusions about how to get into the house.” Greg walked towards the left side to try the door at the top of the brick turret of steps.

  “Duh, yeah, that makes sense, sorry.” Rebecca followed him around the house. The grass was long and leaves covered the ground. “We have to rake the leaves. That’s going to take time.” She looked at the yard.

  “I don’t know why we’d clean up the yard, but if we do, I’m using a leaf blower.” Greg could tell Rebecca did not do yard work.

  “I don’t care about appearances, if that is what you are implying. We have to clear space for the chickens to scratch. We should have a clean yard for planting in the spring, to keep animals out of the yard, to make sure we don’t slip and fall on the wet leaves. This is where we live. The outside and the inside are going to be clean, livable spaces.”