Reunion at Walnut Cherryville (The Eternal Feud Book 1)

by Lauren Salem

  Vincent was going to get all the punishment, and I was happy with that, since I didn’t get any of it. Besides, the only reason why anyone got in trouble was because Vincent decided to film it, so it was entirely his fault. Vincent had no tangible evidence that the whole thing was my idea, so why should I suffer the consequences with him?

  Vincent didn’t see it that way. He thought we should all be punished with him because everyone took part in the prank. Johnny agreed with Vincent and wanted to be a tattletale, but he said he wouldn’t tell unless everyone agreed to tell together. I didn’t agree, so Vincent continued to spend his free time in detention, which lasted for a month. I never knew what type of punishment detention entailed…Vincent never talked about it. He was mad at me and avoided me for a long time after that. I’d like to think by now that he had gotten over it, but sometimes I didn’t believe he had.

  Chapter 17: Johnny

  The best way to avoid being recaptured by Walnut Cherryville was to go somewhere unexpected. If there were secret watchers in every city, we wouldn’t go to the city and we would stay in the wilderness. After walking for miles from the highway into the woodlands, Veronica and I found the perfect spot to build a shelter. The area was fairly dense with trees and plants, and I could hear a stream flowing nearby. Now that we found our shelter destination, we could take a quick rest before searching for the materials we needed to build it. I sat next to Veronica beneath a tree and closed my eyes to listen to the birds chirping a song from the canopy above. The air felt cool and was lightly scented with pine. All of a sudden, I smelled something salty and baked. Veronica had just opened a bag of Trail Mix.

  “Want some?” she asked.

  I grabbed a handful of Trail Mix, nibbled on a few blueberries we stole from the truck, and washed it down with a bottle of water. What types of shelter could we make with the limited materials that we stole from Walnut Cherryville? We had one knife, two sleeping bags, two pillows, matches, tweezers, instant soup, water purification tablets, a flashlight, batteries, a compass, a drawing of Walnut Cherryville, a book about how to survive in the desert, a first aid kit, sanitation wipes, plastic bags, water bottles, blueberries, and Trail Mix. The large piece of white sheeting, which I couldn’t find, would have been useful in this situation. I could have made several different types of tepees or tents with that. Without the use of a thin material like a poncho, parachute, or sheeting, the only structure we could build with the tools we had was a lean-to. I could construct a lean-to with only a knife and all-natural materials like logs, vines, leaves, straw, and grass. This structure was not as closed in as a tent or tepee, but it would protect us from the elements. I found two thin trees that were about an inch apart, which we could use for the base. First, I would need several thin logs and vines to create and connect the bones of the structure…Wait—before I could get too far ahead of myself, I thought I should probably tell Veronica what I was planning.

  “Veronica, I was thinking we should build a lean-to for our shelter because that’s the best shelter we can make with just a knife,” I said. “It’s fairly open-air, but it would protect us from the elements as long as we make sure the back of the lean-to is facing the wind.” I stood up and walked over to the two thin trees to demonstrate. “Based on the direction of the wind, we should build the lean-to in this direction. I will need several thin logs about nine feet long and an inch in diameter to use as beams, vines for securing the horizontal support to the trees, and other poles, saplings, or vines to crisscross the beams. Once the framework is done, we can cover it with brush, leaves, pine needles, and grass, but it’s very important that you start from the bottom and work your way up. It’s the same concept as shingling a house. Lastly, and I hope we have time to do all this before nightfall, we can place straw, leaves, and grass inside the shelter for extra cushioning before we rollout our sleeping bags on top of it. We also need to collect tinder, kindling, and fuel so we can make a fire tonight. Also, if we can manage to catch a meal of something more substantial than Trail Mix, blueberries, or instant soup that would keep us full longer and less tired—”

  “Should I be writing this down?” Veronica interrupted.

  “Bugs like ants, beetles, termites, and grubs, which are full of protein, can be found on rotting logs, making them an easy dinner. If you like burritos, I can grind up several different kinds of bugs into a paste and roll them up in a leaf—”

  “The last time I checked, burritos were made from tortillas, beef, salsa, cheese, guacamole, rice, or beans,” she said while I continued to ramble on.

  “Tomorrow, I can complete the shelter by adding a fire reflector wall equipped with a drying rack. I will need to drive four sixty-inch-long stakes into the ground and stack green logs on top of one another between the support stakes. Next, I can form two rows of stacked logs to create an inner space within the wall that I will fill with dirt and bind the top of the support stakes with a vine, so the green logs and dirt stay in place…voilà! We have a fire reflector! The next thing we would need is a drying rack to dry clothes and meats, which is easy to make. All I need to do is lean one-inch-diameter poles against the lean-to support and on top of the fire reflector wall, tie it in place, and attach smaller sticks across the poles—”

  “OK, slow down,” Veronica shouted. “I get it! You’re handy! I could hardly understand anything you said.”

  “Sorry, sometimes I talk fast when I’m excited.”

  Veronica sighed. “All this stuff we have to do is so mentally exhausting.”

  “It’s OK if you don’t understand everything we need to do right now. I can remember what needs to be done, keep us on track, and help you learn how to build the shelter.”

  “Well, we better start collecting materials now if we have any hope of finishing the shelter by tonight,” Veronica said as she stood up. “Lead the way.”

  I found a small group of trees that looked about nine feet long and an inch in diameter, so I used the knife to cut them down while Veronica looked for vines.

  “How do you know so much about survival?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll think I’m silly,” I said, looking up to see where she went.

  She was a few feet away, unraveling vines from a large tree. “I promise not to laugh,” she said.

  “That’s what she said before she laughed,” I joked.

  “Come on, we’re like the only two people in this forest, and now you’re worried about what other people think?”

  I put the logs in a pile and gathered some dead grass, ferns, moss, and fungi to serve as tinder for the fire. “I was always fascinated by nature, so I would hang outside whenever I could. I went camping a few times, but that was more for enjoyment rather than learning purposes. At school, I fought to watch my favorite television show, Survivorman…”

  * * *

  Sonoran Correctional High School was no place to let my guard down; everywhere I stepped there were backstabbers, land mines, and cherry bombs waiting to be set off. Unlike the classrooms and main hall, where security kept a close eye on students, the dormitories were active warzones. Forty juvenile delinquents forced to share the same room, television, and shower facilities caused a lot of fights. I learned early on that if I wanted something for myself, I’d have to defend it.

  Every Friday night at nine o’clock, a new episode of Survivorman aired on the Discovery Channel. Les Stroud became my new idol years after I no longer wanted to be a cowboy because he could survive in any environment with limited tools, which was truly amazing. The survival skills I knew now, I learned from watching Survivorman and by reading survival guides in my spare time. The only problem was that the television room was tough to defend at nine o’clock on Friday nights. Dan, the science fiction nerd, wanted to watch Fringe; Tom, the fairytale fantasy nerd, wanted to watch Grimm; and Lewis, the crime-show-junkie, wanted to watch CSI: New York.

  There were fou
r contenders and only one television. Every Friday night at eight thirty, I met my contenders in the television room prepared to fight. There was only one rule: once there was a clear winner, there were no rematches, and the winner got to watch his show with no interruptions until it was over. Besides obeying that one rule, everyone could fight as dirty as they wanted. Most of the time, Tom, known to be a chemical terrorist, would be the first contender to get knocked out. Lewis, known to be an underground wrestling champion, would punch Tom between the eyes before he could see it coming. At the same time, Lewis took on Dan, the man known to grow and sell the best weed, without any trouble.

  While they were all busy fighting each other, I took the best approach to winning a fight where the odds were against me: ambush. I hid in the shadowy corners of the room where no one noticed me and waited until Lewis took out Dan and Tom before I ambushed him. At this point, I had a fifty-fifty chance at winning the television. My strength was nothing compared to Lewis’s, so it was important that I catch him by surprise. My ambush strategy worked about 60 percent of the time; when it didn’t work, it was because my opening blow wasn’t crippling enough.

  Usually, Lewis was my only challenge, but sometimes the other contenders would change the game. Tom was a sneaky bastard who often stole materials from the chemistry lab without getting caught. At the beginning of the fight, he’d set off a homemade smoke bomb, which hindered everyone’s vision. Next, he’d creep around the dense fog, taking us out one by one. His most common trick was to sneak up behind each one of us and snuff us out with a chloroform-soaked rag. Luckily, he didn’t always have the materials to pull off this trick every Friday. On the other hand, Dan was more of a bargainer; when he had weed available, he’d give it to us for free so he could watch his show sometimes. The four of us were the friendliest with one another when we were all high and watching Fringe.

  * * *

  “Ah, so is Survivorman like Chair Trials?” Veronica asked. “What is a Discovery Channel?”

  “Survivorman is nothing like Chair Trials,” I explained as I collected bugs from a dead log and put them in a plastic bag for safekeeping. “It’s more of a documentary rather than a reality show, and no one dies. Before I answer your next question, I have one for you. What’s your favorite TV show?”

  “Chair Trials is the only show I’ve ever seen,” Veronica said. “My family didn’t have a television back in Mexico because we couldn’t afford one. I never liked watching television because I was always forced to watch Chair Trials by the guards in Walnut Cherryville. I usually spent most of my leisure time reading books. My favorite books are To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, and Animal Farm.”

  It wasn’t until nightfall that I realized the extent to which Veronica loved books. Once we were done collecting all the raw materials we needed, I built the shelter and the fire for the night. Veronica helped by covering the framework of the lean-to with brush, leaves, pine needles, and grass. She also made our mattress of straw, leaves, and grass that she put inside the shelter for extra cushioning. My body ached, I was dead tired, and I needed a rest before preparing dinner. I rolled my sleeping bag out over the mattress and lay down. Instead of rolling her sleeping bag out, Veronica unfolded hers because it was full of books. I listened to the soothing sound of crickets and hooting owls as I watched the book stack grow taller and taller.

  “Wow, it looks like you stole half of Walnut Cherryville’s library in your sleeping bag,” I laughed.

  “Well, I thought wherever we ended up, we could probably use some entertainment to relax our minds and de-stress.”

  “Good thinking. After I build the drying rack, I’ll build you a bookshelf.”

  Veronica pulled out another book from her sleeping bag, but instead of putting it on top of the stack, she took a minute to glance at the cover. “This one’s for you,” she said as she handed me a book titled Lord of the Flies by William Golding. “I think you’ll like it.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “During a raging war, a plane full of British schoolboys crashes on a deserted island, and they are forced to learn how to govern themselves because all the adults died in the crash. Two natural leaders with conflicting interests emerge: Ralph, a civilized boy who wants to create a miniature civilization on the island until they can be rescued, and Jack, a savage boy who is the leader of the hunters but longs for total power. That is all I’m going to tell you until you read the book.”

  “OK,” I laughed. “I’ll read it when I get time.”

  “It feels kind of misty out here. Is there any way we could keep the books from getting wet?”

  “For now, we could put them in the plastic bags,” I suggested. “When I make the bookshelf, we could use the plastic bags to cover the shelf, so they’re protected from the rain. Speaking of rain, I should make a plastic covering that could hang from our lean-to, so whoever sleeps on the outer part doesn’t get too wet.”

  “Are you sure that this shelter is enough to keep the animals out? Now that I’m hearing them, I’m a little afraid,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not afraid. You can sleep on the inside, and I’ll protect you if anything gets too close, but I’m not worried about that. The fire signals animals to keep away.”

  Veronica poured water into a tea cup and placed it by the fire.

  “You brought a tea cup…another extra thing I didn’t think of.”

  “I didn’t think of it either until I was stealing the other items from the kitchen. I’m going to heat the water and then mix instant soup into it.”

  “You’re not going to try my bug burritos?”

  “I’d rather not. It doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

  “Come on Veronica; they won’t taste as bad as you think.”

  “Have you eaten them before?”

  “I was going to eat them when I went camping, but the counselor wouldn’t let me. He made me eat normal food,” I complained. “What kind of camping experience is it if you can’t even eat the local food?”

  “I would hardly call bugs food.”

  “Bugs are a delicacy in Asian countries. You should try it.”

  Veronica shook her head in disagreement. “They may pass as good burritos in Asian countries, but they never would in Mexico.”

  “What will you eat when you run out of domestic food?”

  “Well, I’m willing to eat plants and animals.”

  “We can’t always rely on catching an animal for every meal, and your body won’t be able to handle consuming much wild plants. Sometimes you’re just going to have to eat whatever is easiest to catch. It’s best if you try some of the bug burrito, so you can start getting used to the flavor.” I sat up, crushed the bugs inside the plastic bag into a paste, and rolled it up inside two large leaves. I held it out to Veronica, but she wouldn’t take it. “Here comes the choo-choo-train,” I said, advancing the burrito toward her mouth. She moved away. “OK, what can I do to get you to eat this thing?”

  “You have to try it first.”

  “Well played. I will try it first, and then you’ll see that it’s not that bad,” I said before taking a bite of the burrito. As I chewed it up, I thought about what domestic food I could compare the flavor with. The texture was gritty, and the filling tasted sweet and zingy. I swallowed the food in my mouth and washed it down with some water. “It tastes like sweet and sour chicken wraps.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Veronica laughed as she poured the instant soup mix into the cup of hot water. “The look on your face when you ate it didn’t tell me that it tasted that good. You’re probably just saying that to trick me into eating it. Can I borrow the knife for a minute?”

  “I didn’t make a look on my face; I had a neutral face,” I said, handing her the knife, “You weren’t planning on eating it no matter what I told you it tasted like.”

  “That’s probably true.” She mixed her soup until the powder disappeared.

  “Fine, don’t eat it,” I said
as I wrapped mine up in a plastic bag, “I’ll save it for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

  “Ick,” Veronica replied before she sipped her instant soup. “Ah, this soup is delicious…so much better than eating bugs.”

  “That’s OK. I know one day you’ll run out of instant soup, and you’ll be hungry enough to try them.”

  Chapter 18: Laura

  I never thought I would hear myself say this, but I was happy to be staying in the Cactus Motel. At a nightly rate of only twenty dollars, the Cactus Motel was the cheapest motel in the southwest. After we checked in, Vincent and I carried our sleeping bags up to our room on the second floor. Before my Walnut Cherryville experience, I never would have agreed to stay in anything less than a hotel, but now I had to take what I could get. I slid the key into the key hole, but it didn’t fit. What kind of place still used actual keys that were noncomputerized? Oh, wait, I knew…a crappy motel! I flipped the key around and tried it again, but it still didn’t open the door.

  “I can do it,” Vincent said, reaching for the key.

  “No, I can get it,” I said, shoving his hand away. I tried again…no go.

  “You just have to jiggle it,” he suggested.

  I inserted the key in many different ways and jiggled the doorknob for ten minutes before the damn thing finally opened! I walked into the room and turned on the light. The cactus-patterned wallpaper was stained piss-yellow in many spots. The room was filled with many insect surprises, including spider webs on the walls, dead bugs on the green carpet, and roaches in the bathtub. The tub was discolored, especially around the drain area, and the toilet seat seemed to have scratches on it. I had to pee, so I covered the seat with five layers of rough toilet paper before I sat down. This was when I discovered that the toilet was wobbly, and the seat was about to separate from the hinges. As I went to wipe myself, Vincent opened the bathroom door, and I quickly closed my legs, looking startled. Luckily, I didn’t lose my balance.