“Mom, I’m stronger than you think. I promise I can handle more. You don’t need to worry about me.” How did I tell her I’d already been kissed? Kids at school teased me about still having my V-card, but that wasn’t anyone’s business. I wasn’t rolling over for just anyone. And the boys at my school were just anyone. Unless of course you count Bodey Christianson. Seriously, the boy was smart as heck and hot, too. But I didn’t count him because he didn’t go to my school technically. Did he count, if he was dead?
“Why did you leave your sleeping bag? How did those guys get you?” I played with the plastic corner of my baggie. I hadn’t asked yet because the full import of how much danger we’d been in hadn’t disappeared from my nerves.
Mom blushed. “I had to use the bathroom. I told you not to drink too much water and I almost emptied my canteen. I walked a little ways away so I wouldn’t wake you and wasn’t paying attention. Didn’t even take my gun.” She shook her head. “All that preaching about camp rules and safety and I’d abandoned every single one of them.”
Now that we were safe, I chuckled, but shakily. “That’s not funny, but it is. Sounds more like something I would do.”
“Nah, Kelly. Give yourself more credit. We’re all human. We all make mistakes. I’m glad you were brave enough to fix mine.” She leaned over and shoulder-squeezed me in a half-hug.
We ate together in silence, Mom thoughtful as she finished her pickle and sipped water.
Nothing about the sandwich was spectacular. I mean, seriously, what was dramatic about mayonnaise, mustard, cheese, and deli-turkey meat? Not a lot. But since I hadn’t eaten in a while and after the exhausting ordeal with the men, the sandwich and pickle could’ve been from a five-star restaurant in Seattle.
The full sensation hit me after a few minutes and I moaned.
So glad to not be hungry, I ignored the worry a simple thought brought to the forefront – I had only gone eight hours or so without food. Things were guaranteed to get worse.
Could I survive without comfort and convenience? Or had my mom’s training weekends and week-to-month-long training sessions been in vain?
Mom collected my baggies and tucked them into another small pocket on her backpack.
Glancing behind us, I blinked at the ever-clearing sky. “Hey, the smoke has stopped. Maybe we can go back?”
“No smoke isn’t reassuring, Kelly. If the bombing stopped, whoever attacked got what they wanted.” She fell silent, arranging her pack on her shoulders. Matter-of-factly, she helped load mine on my back and patted the bottom of the bag before walking around me. “We’re almost to the turnout. Let’s keep going.” She glanced at my face then over my shoulder. “Stop looking back. We’ll never see our world the way it was.”
Tears built in my eyes again, but Mom’s? They were clear as if she’d just woken up from a restful night.
An hour later a pinching burn on the pinky side of my foot got my attention. I walked on the inside of my foot, trying to take the weight off that side, but the pain only abated for a few steps before returning with a heated anger.
So I limped, but the change in stride didn’t work either. Shuffling to the side of the road, I leaned my shoulder against a tree. “Mom.” I didn’t speak too loud. We didn’t need a repeat of last night and that morning.
A lot of noise wasn’t necessary. Concern knitting her eyebrows together, she backtracked to me. She studied the scenery, then pressed her face close to mine. “What’s wrong?”
“My foot is killing me.” I whispered, trying not to groan.
“Did you double up your socks?” She knelt, untying my hiking boot with fast hard motions.
I glared at the tree limbs overhead. Of course not. Why would I remember something she’d told me to do a hundred times before the world crashed down around us? Because I was an idiot. Blisters could be avoided. Heat flooded my face and I shook my head enough to move my hair but not enough to further my embarrassment.
Mom sighed. “Come on, Kelly. You have to do the basics.”
“I know.” I kept my voice tight. No reason to add to her “told you so” moment.
“Hey, don’t get lippy with me. If you know how to avoid this, then it’s on your shoulders.” She slid my shoe off and then my sock, careful on the tender side of my foot. Her gentleness irritated me. When I was being rude, she should be rude back. It was only polite.
“Yes, Mom.” My extra socks were in the bottom of my backpack. Hopefully she didn’t ask me for them. I could handle only so much humility and with a blister burning my foot, right then wasn’t the time to add more.
She pulled a bandaid from her jacket pocket and stuck it to my foot over the reddish area. Whipping my sock back on and then my shoe, she tied the laces before standing. “That’ll work until we get an extra sock out of the bag.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I grumbled, irritated I had to be grateful about anything. I gingerly stepped on the foot. A little bit of soreness persisted but nothing like before.
“Sure. You’re just tired. Come on, up ahead at the next bend we’ll go into the woods. I’m not sure what the trails will be like right now, so we have to be cautious.” She wiped her hands on her thighs, watching the road in front of us. “We haven’t seen anyone else this way, which is weird for such a large number in our co-op.” She didn’t look confused, instead worry added a downturned slant to her lips. “We’ll keep praying for help.”
“Yeah, okay.” I fell into step beside her, my head pounding from the lack of solid sleep. As irritated as I got with Mom, I had to give it to her. She was a monster with her discipline. She would probably tack her strength up to faith or something, but I dialed it in as craziness. Still her craziness was keeping us alive.
Shafts of sunlight enhanced the brilliant green trees and the grasses freshly sprouting from damp earth. We climbed the ditch from the gravel to the sloping forest floor.
The pain had dramatically decreased in my foot and even fatigued, I couldn’t hold back my optimism. Hopefully, where we were going had good food and a shelter. Maybe I could wash my hair, or better yet, take a shower. I needed to pee on a toilet – bad. The excitement of using bushes for cover had died long ago.
We climbed about fifty feet. In front of us, laid out like a viewing at a funeral, a fallen tree whose circumference I would never be able to wrap my arms around waited in rest like Sleeping Beauty. Green moss and lichen decorated the creases and grooves. Flower buds sprouted from the mosses and poked from the deepest green centers of the collections. I couldn’t help myself and ran my fingers over the velvety coverings.
Mom paused, looking behind us. She kneeled and motioned I follow.
Knees in the dirt, she pointed past the end of the log toward a dense copse of trees. Whispering lower than before, she barely moved her lips. “I don’t know who or what we’re going to find. It’s way too quiet. You do exactly what I say. Keep the balaclava on. I don’t care how hot you get, do you understand?”
I nodded, leery of arguing in case she was right. The balaclava wasn’t uncomfortable so agreeing didn’t hurt me any.
Together we rose and stepped cautiously around the tree. The ground covering absorbed our footprints and as I looked back, they disappeared as if we’d never been there.
We entered the thicker tree line and Mom grabbed my arm. She pushed me behind a tree and shook her head. Pointing toward a suddenly-present clearing, she mouthed. “Looks like a fight.”
She’d gauged the assumption fast. I poked my head around the rough trunk, scratching my cheek in the process. Rubbing the offended part, I stared at the scattered garbage and broken glass littering the well-packed dirt clearing. Smaller fallen logs, set up like seating around a fire pit, framed spread dead coals around the grass. A torn down tent fluttered in the soft breeze, poles poking into the air like a beetle on its back.
Mom motioned me back.
I moved to retreat, but stopped when she lowered her flattened fingers to the ground in a swift jerking move.
Returning to my spot, I peered back to the clearing. A different shade of green from the surrounding forest moved slightly on the far border of the clearing.
A woman stared back at us. Her long dark blonde hair lay in a thick braid over her shoulder. Tight jeans and an even tighter sweater suggested she came into the end with something else on her mind than practicality.
She reached for something at her waist.
Mom tensed, reaching for her waist as well.
What did I do? Witnessing a shootout wasn’t my idea of surviving anything.
Was the woman as good a shot as my mom?
Chapter 7
“Megan, is that you?” The woman ducked her head as she peered toward my mom.
My gaze volleyed between them. I held my breath. Did Mom know her? Or was she like the men we escaped from?
Hand still at the ready, Mom called back. “Jeanine? Where is everyone?”
“Let me come over.” Instead of running across the litter strewn clearing like I expected, Jeanine dodged around the edge, disappearing behind trees and bushes as she walked.
Stashing the rifles behind a split tree off the main path, Mom pushed me further from the open clearing. She grabbed my hand and glared hard into my eyes. She obviously didn’t want me to talk, but could she have also wanted me to stop breathing?
Hard telling when she assumed I could read her mind.
Surprisingly quiet, Jeanine reached us in less than a minute. She flipped her long braid behind her shoulder as she perused the woods around us. She leaned forward and air hugged Mom, ignoring me for the moment. “I’m not sure how far our voices carry out here.” She murmured.
Mom pulled me closer to her side. “What happened?”
Jeanine heaved a sigh. “Charlie and Shane never showed up. They were supposed to be our south periphery protection. Without them here and, Larry didn’t show up either, well, things fell apart. Ryan and Joseph fought for control. We went up to Larry’s since he has the best set up and to check on him. Everyone who showed up went that way.”
We’d just met someone named Shane, could it be coincidence?
“How many?” Mom’s fingers clenched on my forearm, like nerves controlled her hands and spasmed.
Grimacing to the side, Jeanine bowed her head. “Only about half. We can function with only four, if we need to.”
Mom nodded, holding my arm tight. “Okay, well, do you want to lead the way, or?” She left the question dangling, waiting for Jeanine to fill in the blank.
I hated when she did that to me. Like I should know the answer and I better say the right thing.
Jeanine avoided our eyes. She flicked her gaze around our heads and off into the trees somewhere behind us. A slight shrug and she swallowed. “I’m going to stay in case any more show up. I would hate for anyone to miss out on being in camp because I wasn’t here, you know?” She cleared her throat and shifted her feet, the rustle distinct in the shadows.
Glancing around the small clearing, Mom stepped backwards, dragging me with her. I would’ve protested verbally, but she glared my way.
Eyes piercing, Jeanine watched every move we made. She shuffled our way, pursing her lips. “I could walk back with you and return right after.” She didn’t back down, like a Kirby salesman in our neighborhood a few weeks ago. What did she have to sell though? What did she care if we went with her?
We held our ground, a small standoff and I wasn’t quite sure what the reward was. Mom acquiesced with a nod. “Sure, why don’t you lead? I’ve never been to Larry’s. Isn’t it close by?”
“Yeah, not far actually.” Offering a too-bright smile, Jeanine turned, tugging at the hem of her shirt. She moved ahead by almost twenty feet, leading the way as we slowly fell in behind her.
I leaned close to Mom and whispered. “Who’s Charlie?” The name stood out to me from a memory of Mom coming home from a co-op meeting and her ranting about a man named Charlie. But that’s all I remembered.
She held her whisper under the crackle of our footsteps. “He’s a cruel man who fought for control of the group so much, they almost kicked him out.” Mom watched Jeanine and our surroundings, her face tight.
“Why didn’t they?” I stepped over a moss-laden log, rich in greens and browns. Not a trace of the smoke had reached that far north. A sweet earthy scent filled the air.
“Because Charlie had the most money invested and they couldn’t kick him out without him taking every cent back or even demanding a percentage of the properties purchased. He tied himself so tightly into the financial holdings...” She shrugged, careful to hold me back from walking ahead of her. “The arguments weren’t pretty when Larry joined the group. With the most land and money, he’d guaranteed himself a spot when he volunteered his place for the final camp.”
How and when and where, not to mention what, Mom spent her money on after Dad and Braden died altered completely from before. She stockpiled a food storage as well as money in weapons and first aid supplies. One wouldn’t think so, but each of our packs was designed to keep us alive for over three months with carefully assigned supplies.
The trail Jeanine led us down hadn’t been traveled much in the past. Long grasses, shiny green on one side and silver on the other, rubbed at our pant legs. I stumbled on a protruding root, the gnarled wood bent and curved hooked my boot and grabbed me under. Mom grasped my arm again, steadying me.
I shrugged her off. “I’m okay, thanks.” She patted my shoulder, checking behind us. “Who do you know that will be there?”
“I’m not sure. Jeanine didn’t tell me who else.” She glanced at our leader, wrinkling her brow. “Weird. Jeanine never struck me as someone to do anything others told her to do. She always seemed like the type to do her own thing.” She waved her hand, as if brushing off her comment.
Whether Jeanine opposed Mom’s opinion of her or not, we continued following. I’m not sure if that was a good thing or not.
Chapter 8
We didn’t travel far before Jeanine stopped where the trail widened and curved.
She watched behind us as we closed the distance. Our breathing patterns matched, mine and Mom’s, I’m not sure why but this irritated me more.
I wiped my brow. I didn’t like being mad at her. Since Dad died, I wanted to be closer to Mom but she clung harder to her God, pushing me out.
Except not.
She always wanted me to pray with her, go to church with her, read scriptures with her. She wanted to pull me in, drink the Kool-Aid.
But I didn’t want to do any of the stuff she based her happiness on. I had the hardest time believing anything so simple would solve all my problems.
Jeanine smiled tightly. “You don’t have much further to go. I need to get back to the clearing. We’re hoping more of us are just late getting in.” She crossed her arms, dropping one hand from the tight self-embrace. She fiddled with a string from her jacket edge.
Mom didn’t reply, stepping around Jeanine. She continued walking. Behind her, I walked further onto the flattened grass blades and didn’t look at the woman.
A whiff of cheap drug store perfume slapped me across the face like she arched her arm through the air, accosting the freshness of the outdoors. The scent’s presence couldn’t be more out of place.
We walked on.
I’d never been up so far north. Usually Mom went to the meetings by herself. At least, I never attended one. She could have taken someone else with her. The more time I spent with Mom, the more I realized I didn’t know her quite the way I thought I did.
Murmurs carried on the breeze, rustling through leaves and branches. I quickened my pace to push myself closer to my mom. I didn’t need to get too far behind. Plus, I was scared out of my flipping blistering boots. Staying near Mom dulled the edge of my fear, diminishing the fright enough my pride didn’t hurt so badly.
She ducked under a spindly low-hanging branch. “Sounds like the camp’s right up this way. Stay close, okay? Remember, we don’t trust anyone.”
At least she hadn’t said pray. Her usual go-to, the answer for everything. I once asked her a question about what classes to take, her answer? Pray. What should I do over the weekend? Pray. Should I get a job? Pray.
Pray. Pray. Pray.
Always. I’m supposed to pray like asking her isn’t enough. What does praying do? Not bring my dad back. Praying didn’t keep my brother from dying. I’m sure the world had plenty of people praying for safety and wow, the entire earth still went to hell via priority mail.
At least she went with don’t trust anyone.
Anyone.
These people she chose to shack up with could be classified as anyone. Confusion set in.
We probably shouldn’t be going in. If she didn’t trust them, why stay? Certainly we could do better than having to watch our backs all the time. But I trusted her – even as I wanted to yell at her. Telling her my fears wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Reaching for her shoulder, I ducked under the same branch but my jaw dropped. Entering the tightly maintained property boundaries, I swallowed. Large wall tents lined the further edge of the fenced off yard. Six foot cedar planks fenced about two football fields worth of acreage.
Jeanine had led us to the front entry path which brought us through the gate left open. Planted directly in front of the opening, we didn’t have to be all the way inside to view the camp.
My fingers clenched around Mom’s upper arm, digging in for stability. I couldn’t drag my eyes from the compound. I held my lips still while whispering as softly as possible. “I think we should go, Mom. You don’t even trust these guys. Please, let’s go.”
Cost of Survival Page 5