Transients

by Brayan Branko Bubalo

  “Well…”

  “Why didn’t you say so? We can use a doctor.”

  As their group grew in numbers, Tagore showed more and more wisdom and resourcefulness, becoming their spiritual guide of sorts. A sage.

  Chapter III

  The following day, Tagore and Presley revealed their ideas and plans to the rest of the group; as much of it, that is, as Professor reasoned they ought to know. At first, no one liked the notion of leaving their fortress—their safe haven. Fear of the unknown was great. But, soon, the general opinion turned in favour of the two unspoken leaders of the troop. Everyone trusted Presley; he led them across some rough patches, and during all that time, he never failed them. And, since they learned to value Professor’s insight and knowledge about bigger issues, they assumed if he believed they were no longer safe there, then they better listen and take up elsewhere. Still, many questions were raised from every corner and every mouth. But, in the end, they agreed unanimously that they should head south, reassured by Presley and Professor they would stay where they were, as long as it was required for throughout planning and preparation. Yet, Presley knew that very soon the absence of Pongos would be noticed and someone else would come to harass them. The sooner they got moving, the further they would reach.

  Days passed in planning for the new ordeal. Their hearts were filled with a new spirit of hopefulness and anticipation at what the journey ahead might bring. Even though they were venturing into the unknown, and ultimately taking a risk, they were excited to move forward and lifted by the prospect of starting anew.

  Presley sent a team, made up of a few men, to scout the frozen Blue Lake; to confirm if the ice was thick enough for crossing and if it covered the entire stretch of the water; or if there were cracks on the surface, or, worse yet, an unfrozen patch of open water somewhere in the middle.

  The men left a day after the final communal discussion on the matter, at daybreak.

  Presley did not expect them to be back for at least three days. He calculated that it would take them a day to cross, should the surface of the lake be frozen solid all the way to the opposite shore, and about a day more to scout the area around the shoreline, and yet another day to return. He would be greatly disappointed if they showed up earlier.

  Presley was also troubled by thoughts of his men being caught in a sudden super–storm, for there was no way of predicting if the tempest was approaching. This was, in fact, a bigger problem than any other, even more damning than stumbling into a pack of Pongos. Out in the open, nothing could save them from the treacherous wind and cold a super–storm carries. They would simply freeze in seconds.

  Ever since the morning of their departure, Presley was consumed with worry. He spent most of his time on top of the building across the street, gazing into the barren landscape through binoculars in all directions. On the third day he went to the rooftop, awaiting their return; watching in the direction of the lake, hoping to spot them; towards the city, on guard against approaching hostiles; and to the north, for any signs of an impending ice storm.

  While they waited for the scouts return, the rest of the men and women were busy collecting supplies and equipment. Behind the building, where the Pongos had their lair, they stumbled upon storage with a few light and undamaged kayaks, made of aluminum. They fixed them on skis so they could pool them over ice like sleds, loaded with everything they could carry. Presley was very satisfied with this find as it resolved the problem of encountering patches of open water while crossing over the lake.

  Through all this time there was still no sign of Pongos, or anyone else for that matter, in the entire city, and Presley got to thinking that they might be the only ones left. And, if that were the case, would it be wise to leave? The clouds seemed to be getting thinner and thinner, and daylight was slightly brighter for the last couple of weeks. It was now possible to see the sun’s disc, passing across the entirety of the gray sky, and on occasion even glimpses of color were evident. All of that suggested change. But, for some reason, all of it just made Presley more convinced that it was for the best that they leave. In fact, he had a vague feeling that time was actually running out for them, and that they had to hurry.

  Consumed with all these thoughts he was almost startled with unexpected company. It was the woman from Phyla’s group. She appeared behind him, offering him a big thermos bottle.

  “Be careful, it’s hot,” she said.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s tea.”

  He took a sip. It tasted good as that afternoon after a super—storm. He was puzzled.

  “What kind of tea is this?” he asked, puzzled, for he could not imagine how on earth this drink could be made from their supplies of stale tea bags.

  “Oh, it’s an old recipe. My mother taught me it. First you melt sugar alone, and when it melts you add water, and when it boil you put the tea in it and let it cool.”

  They were silent for a while. Presley was embarrassed for some reason. Being a soldier made him somewhat wary around women. He tried to avoid conversation by sipping on the hot beverage, risking burning his tongue and throat. She noticed his uneasiness and blushed in sudden realization that her presence made him feel awkward.

  “Hi,” she said, trying to hide her discomfort.

  “Hi,” he replied. He kept on sipping.

  “My name is Hope,” she said.

  “Hi, Hope. How appropriate. I’m Presley.”

  He wondered why she made such an effort to come all the way up here and talk to him.

  “I overheard some of the men mention you were up here all morning and I wanted to bring you tea to warm you up,” she said, as if she read his mind. “I just thought it would be a nice thing to do.”

  “Well, thank you very much. It was truly nice of you. I appreciate it.”

  They stood there in silence for another uncomfortable moment not knowing where to go from here. Yet, she did not seem to wish to leave.

  “What are you doing up here anyway?” she asked.

  “I’m waiting to see if our men made it across the lake. They should be back very soon. And I am worried about the next storm.”

  “Do you think that there is another storm coming?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just anxious… I have no nerve to just sit and wait for them inside.”

  “When do you think they will come?”

  “Any moment now. Or never.”

  Then they were silent again.

  “Well, I’ll be going now. It’s really cold up here,” she said, while tightening the scarf around her neck and face. “Enjoy your tea.”

  “I will. Thanks,” he replied.

  And she turned around and went towards the stairwell pit. Alone again, it occurred to him that, as she stood next to him, gazing at the white emptiness of the frozen lake, he found he did not mind her presence. That surprised him a little. He thought he, hardened by years of drill and military life, would never feel comfortable in a woman’s company. The few women he had in his life were only passing episodes. But, when Hope disappeared he felt as if he missed her. He did not understand his feelings. This was something new to him. And so sudden. He knew her only for a few days and this was the first time they exchanged more than two words…

  As he tried to make sense of these, to him foreign emotions, gazing into the distance he saw three dark silhouettes, enveloped in whiteness, appear on the edge of the visible horizon. Once the figures got bigger, as the men came closer, he went down from his post. He waited for their arrival by the dilapidated, frozen marina.

  The three men looked exhausted. But when they saw Presley waiting, with a few others, their faces lit with excitement.

  “Well?” he shouted at them for he could not suppress his anticipation.

  “It’s all good, chief! But we have to hurry!” the leader of the scouts yelled back.

  “Why?"

  “The ice is getting thinner,” he said in a concerned voice.

  “How do you figu
re?”

  “We went all the way across, and then back, following our own tracks, and somewhere about the middle, we noticed cracks. We could even hear ice rumbling underneath our steps. I figure, we should go now, or we will have no choice, but to stay on this side, or go all around.”

  “Don’t worry. We are ready even if the ice is broken. What did you see on the other side?”

  “Not much, which means much of the same as here? We didn’t want to go all the way to the shore. I didn’t want to leave tracks for someone to spot, and ambush us once we all crossed the lake.”

  “Good thinking. We will worry about it when we get there.”

  “But we saw no sign of men, or Pongos, except some animal trails along the shore.”

  “Good, once we reach the other side we shall set up a camp near the shore and scout the area. Then, we will worry about whatever we have to worry about. By the looks of you, it won’t be easy to get to the other shore. You boys are spared from any duty. I want you to get well rested. We will not move until you are ready.”

  “Don’t worry about us, chief. A nice dinner and a good night sleep under warm blankets, and tomorrow, we’ll be as good as new.”

  “Well, then; we’ll be ready in two days, anyhow. Until then, get your rest.”

  ***

  “Well, here we go,” said Professor with a sparkle in his dark, short–sighted eyes. “Give your order, captain. Move this bunch!”

  “You’re ready, Professor?” asked Presley.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, my boy. Go on.”

  “Okay. Let’s move, people,” Presley said in an assertive voice. “Try not to make much noise, until we are out in the open. We still can’t be sure if anybody is watching us. Let’s go!”

  He stood aside watching the men and women, covered in layers of clothing, pulling kayaks loaded with everything they could carry, as they walked slowly and, somewhat hesitantly, toward the darkness of the frozen lake. He watched them disappear in the darkness, and after everyone left, he stood inside the large foyer of the old warehouse, engrossed by silence. There was no sound to be heard; the building was made entirely mute with their departure. Strangely, this made Presley feel nostalgic. Just a few hours prior, the foyer was buzzing with life, filled with the spirit of community. But now, like the rest of the city, and much of the world, only nominal traces of human life remained behind. He stood there a moment longer, and then hurried after the others.

  They left their fortress about an hour before daybreak, giving them enough time to get as far from the city as possible, so that in daylight they would reduce the chances of being spotted from high–raise buildings along the lakeshore. However, Presley knew they still ran the risk of being followed; the snow–covered path toward the lake was now intercepted by a straight line of footprints and sled tracks. He knew that they had to be careful.

  He decided to leave four men a couple miles behind and a couple miles ahead, in order to alert the group, and take necessary action, against any sudden development.

  Hopefully, by the end of the day they would be on dry land again, and their ordeal could continue. Presley tried to calculate the number of months it would take them to cross the continent. He had no idea. There were too many variables. He tried to think if he missed something, if they left anything behind they might later regret. And, when he could not think of anything of importance, he started to wonder if the move was wise.

  Were they making a mistake by leaving the city? What kind of obstacles awaited along the way? Would they ever reach their final destination? Would it really be warmer down South? He knew that it would be a long journey, a long one even under the best of circumstances. He decided not to make any assumptions.

  They had no time, and yet they had all the time in the world. What was important was to survive. And even that was just an absurd thought. Survive for what? He did not know. The only thing he was sure of was that he could not die without trying. Survival was their only mission, truly the only reason for their existence; it became its own purpose. You got attacked, you fought; as long as you were alive, you breathed; when you got hungry, you ate if you are lucky to have a bite; you got tired, you slept. Other than that there was not much left. Giving up was the easiest thing to do. And, after all, life was still stronger than death. Life would always find a reason for itself and, if you endured, Presley thought, it could be good once again.

  ***

  They were marching all day across the ice and, still, by the late afternoon they could not see the opposite shore. They moved at a much slower pace than their scouts a few days before, bogged down by the loads they pulled and carried on their backs, and somewhat because of the women among them. For the moment, Presley considered the possibility that they went astray, that they were going in a circle. He checked his compass. It showed they were on the right course, but he considered the likelihood of magnetic anomaly, due to the eruptions, which, as Professor once pointed out to him, shifted the Earth significantly from its axis and possibly displaced the Earth’s magnetic poles. He could only hope that his compass was correct. Presley insisted on continuing until they reached solid ground and found some shelter. His biggest concern was the coming of a sudden ice storm. The fact that it could not be predicted caused much of his fear and anxiety. If it came while they were out in the open, it would be fatal. So he persisted in his decree to keep going, and not let them stop even for a brief rest, until they found a solid ground and safety.

  He looked along the column of men and women, stretched across the ever–growing darkness, enveloped in thick layers of clothes and loaded with rucksacks and guns. It was getting colder by the minutes, as the darkness was approaching fast.

  A couple of times during the day they had to stop and listen to the eerie rumble of the ice cracking underneath their footsteps. They spread out in a long line, creating deep gaps between each of them and their heavy loads. When they finally made it safely across that patch of thin and fragile ice, Presley was even more eager to reach dry land. He longed to reach solid ground and feel the hardness of its surface under his feet. He was sure they were close—that the opposite shore was not far away. But he was wary and his nerves stretched thin with anticipation.

  The darkness was getting thicker with each passing minute and very soon it would be pitch black. Then suddenly the convoy stopped and he hurried to the front to see why they were not moving.

  “What’s going on, Malcolm?” he asked his deputy.

  “We made it,” Mike said cheerfully. “We are waiting for you to tell us where to go from here.”

  “Where are our scouts?”

  “Well, that’s the other reason we stopped. There is no sign of them.”

  Presley was quiet for a moment, thinking.

  “Do you have any flares?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Ok! They should have waited for us here but… Go forward with two men, a mile or so, and then shoot the flare. Maybe they went astray and can’t find us. Or maybe they are looking for a shelter. Shoot one flare and wait. Do not make any other noise. If they don’t show up or return a flare, come back here. We will wait for you over there, under that stretch of woods. It’s better than out here in the open. I just hope they are not in trouble. But, make sure you’re back here before nightfall.”

  “Aye!” Malcolm said. “Danny, Fred! Let’s go!”

  The rest of the group lugged their loads towards a thick grove of dried out, mostly dead, pine trees. Time passed slowly while they were waiting for Malcolm to come back. The men and women were exhausted after the long march across the frozen Lake. They welcomed this opportunity to rest. It was almost nightfall when Malcolm and his men arrived back.

  “So?” Presley asked.

  “Well, we couldn’t find them. I fired the flare, but nothing happened. We scanned the perimeter the best we could. There was no sign of them or anyone else. We did see a light in the distance, some kind of a building, a village maybe, or just a remote farm. But we didn
’t think it’s safe, or wise, to come any closer to it. I was afraid it could be a trap. So here we are.”

  “You did well. We’ll look for them in the morning. Ok people, let’s go deeper in the woods and find a place to make a camp. We have to spend the night here. We’ll make a fire if we find a place that’s concealed enough.”

  After a short walk through the forest, they approached an almost vertical, granite hill stretching to the left and right. They turned left and not before long they found an opening to a narrow canyon. They entered without hesitation. Hundred paces inward, the bottom of the ravine widened, but the canyon walls were high and slanted toward one another at the top, almost touching each other above their heads. It was a lucky break. Here they could wait until dawn and get some much-needed rest. Soon, they made few fires and prepared their camp for the night. They made fires near the canyon walls to reflect as much heat as possible, spread their sleeping bags over dry pine needles that blanketed the canyon floor. Soon, they sat around the fires, positioning opened cans of food close to the heat, and steering their contents in cheerful anticipation.

  “What do you think, Professor? Are you tired?”

  “Yes, I am tired and feel like someone beat my soles with a stick and my back with a two–by–four. But, we made it. We made it at last! And we are very lucky that we found this spot. It looks quite safe. And this fire is so soothing. Hopefully, we will have a peaceful night. What do you think happened to our scouts?”

  “I don’t know,” Presley said. “We’ll look for them in the morning. I hope they are safe. Maybe they went too far, looking for shelter, or couldn’t find us in the dark. These are experienced men. I don’t believe they did anything stupid. But, we are in unknown territory. We must be ready for any kind of surprises.”

  Hope came to the fire and sat next to Professor, offering cans of warmed–up beef and vegetable stew. They received the food appreciatively, fished out the spoons from their pockets and ate in silence.

  “Well, I am too tired to talk or think and the warmth of the fire has made me sleepy. I shall find a spot to stretch my old bones,” said Professor. “I wish you two a good night.”