Cost of Survival

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  Grimacing at the place we would lay my mom to rest, I glanced toward the house. Bodey walked toward us, carrying Mom’s slight body in his arms. When had she become so small a young man could easily bear her weight?

  The sudden realization hit me that I’d missed out on a lot in the last two years, as I wrapped myself in condescension, patronizing humor, and downright disrespect for Mom and anything else resembling authority.

  Her rules had irritated me. Their constant repetition growing on my nerves with their redundancy. The more I thought about them, the smarter they were. She hadn’t followed them – at least the trusting-no-one rule.

  Oh, as well as the one which clearly stated stay alive. Couldn’t forget how she ditched that particular rule.

  What I wouldn’t give to hear her repeat those rules again. And again. And again.

  I fingered the corner of her well-read Bible. Her favorite scripture had been highlighted and tagged and even notated with her own comments in the margins. Hopeful I could read the verse over her body before we lowered it. I moved to stand beside John.

  Bodey rounded the two of us, pushing through the collection of weeds and grasses. He set her on the ground, wrapping her completely with a faded quilt, covering her face with the corner.

  “Wait.” I rushed forward, shifting the blanket from her skin to see that she was gone. I had to make sure. She looked so peaceful, even her bruises and scrapes seemed faded as the skin around her eyes wasn’t tight and her mouth wasn’t surrounded by lines.

  “Do you want to say a prayer or anything?” John’s murmur set the tone of reverence and I nodded, replacing the blanket and returning to his side. Gratitude filled me, someone else took the reins of the distasteful affair. I never attended a funeral or a memorial service before.

  Dad and Braden had died when everyone else was dying. We spoke of them in our living room, with curtains blocking out the light for two days. Most of the houses in the nation and the world had done the same as they lost one or more of their family members.

  We weren’t special.

  In the forest, we weren’t any different. Except, we were going to bury Mom. So many other people would never see their loved ones put to rest.

  I didn’t have any tears left, at least not right at that second. Mom’s passing in my arms had sucked me dry and with her face covered she almost disappeared – became less her and more absent.

  We bowed our heads and folded our hands. Was I supposed to say it? Or was he going to?

  I parted my lips, not sure what to say but certain the words would come to me. They had to, right?

  A shot echoed off the house and trees. John pushed at Bodey’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me down beside him on the ground. We hid behind the brush lining the clearing, catching glimpses of the backs of men as they surrounded the house.

  One of the dogs yelped as a man kicked him. His gun came up fast and he rang off another shot, dropping the animal I had been so excited to see.

  The man laughed, kicking the downed body across the dirt. That laugh. That voice. I scooted backward until the soft, newly dug dirt cushioned my grasping fingers.

  Meeting John’s questioning gaze with my own, I shook my head with short jerks and swallowed.

  Charlie had found me. How? I’d been so careful. I waited in that stupid roundabout until no one had been around. What was he doing at the Christianson home?

  The other men with him pushed doors open and stomped through the house. Bodey crab-walked to my side and gripped my hand. He murmured softer than the grass rustling in the breeze. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”

  Another shot from inside the home.

  “They got Abigail.” Their other dog. Bodey’s words were louder, but not by much. He moved to get his legs under him and stand.

  John pressed his hand to Bodey’s chest. His whisper held more firmness than if he yelled. “Stay. Nothing is worth getting shot.” He motioned for us to sit calmly. “We’ll wait until they leave. We’re okay here.”

  We sat, waiting for the men to leave. Each gunshot brought a flinch and finally closed my eyes to wait them out.

  A whoop from the back of the shop made me look. A different guy charged from the garage toward Charlie, holding a pack – Mom’s pack – above his head.

  Charlie roared, yanking the bag from his man’s hands. “She’s here. They’re here. Find them. I want them found, now!” The men scattered like chicken, as if somehow the secret to Mom’s whereabouts lay in the front yard of the house or the deck. They searched like small children, walking back and forth.

  Brandishing a pistol, Charlie stormed through the group of eight men. “If you don’t start looking, I’m going to shoot one of you. Then another. I want them found.”

  I bit my lip. Charlie wouldn’t give up. He would search until he destroyed everything or found us.

  Smoke furled around the northern-most corner of the house. I glanced at John. His jaw clenched, his forearms tight and rippling.

  “Dad, they’re burning our home. Our things.” Bodey’s tortured gasp matched the sickening twist in my gut. His whisper hurt my chest.

  Because of me. I bit my lip, then murmured, “I can go. He might stop, if he has me.”

  John placed his hand on my arm. “No. If those men want you, they’ll have to find you and get through us.” He pushed Bodey’s chest. “Go. Get past the back corner. We’re prepared for this.” He glanced back over the grasses. “Follow him, Kelly. Let’s go.”

  He angled his head to block my straying gaze. “Don’t look back. Just go.” Sadness flattened under his resolve, his strength enabling me to move and do as he said.

  Bodey crawled past the grave and Mom. He didn’t stand until well into the forest and out of sight of the house. John passed me as I slowed beside my mom’s body. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to say goodbye on Charlie’s terms. She was my mom and I hadn’t been able to save her. She died because of me.

  John paused beside me. He patted Mom’s shoulder and then mine. Keeping his voice low, his words washed over me. “I’m not your mom or your dad, Kelly, but I promise to watch over you like my own.” He bent his head and murmured to my mom. “I’ll watch over your daughter. We need to leave though, so it’s goodbye for now.” He touched her head and met my gaze.

  Tears I thought dried up wet my eyes. I nodded at him, sniffing. Tucking her Bible into the fanny pack, I leaned down and kissed the quilt over her face. I didn’t want to see her blank expression or limp features.

  Following John, I didn’t look back. There was nothing for me there.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter 19

  We stopped hiking beside a covered, well-stacked pile of fire wood. John pulled down the back wall of logs and revealed a cavity filled with supplies.

  “Only take what you can comfortably carry. We should have enough backpacks in here for each of us. I don’t have any extra blankets. So the two in each pack will need to do.” He handed me a black and green hiking pack, similar to the one I used of my dad’s. I pulled the straps on. He nodded my way. “You have my wife’s. She’s about the same size you are. So you can use the extra clothes in there.”

  He turned away before I could reply. What would I say? Thanks for giving me your wife’s stuff? She’s probably dead like my mom, but thanks just the same? He would understand the sentiment but I couldn’t say anything, the words awkward and heavy on my tongue.

  Bodey pulled on a pack of his own, grabbing a canteen and draping the long shoulder strap around his neck and over one arm. His dad did the same.

  Copying them, I grabbed a canteen and pulled it over my head, the nylon lines scratching my skin.

  John handed me a camouflage bucket hat with a cord to tighten under my chin. “To keep the sun off you, if it ever comes back out.” He pulled out of the cavity and stacked the few logs to reseal the storage space. “Let’s go, kids.”

  Bodey fell into step behind me, the slight huff
of his breath a comfort as I followed John from their property. We headed into the forest, more shots from the direction of the house chasing us down a rise and into a ravine.

  Hopefully, John knew where we were going, because I’d exhausted any plans I could’ve come up with. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, but I could place one foot in front of the other and follow the Christiansons out of there.

  John had promised to take care of me. The short time with Mom in camp had taught me I needed support in some form. We all seemed to.

  ~~~

  Thankfully my boots fit well. We walked and walked, climbing over rock and shale mountain slides where walking wasn’t probable. Ducking under fallen trees and leaving the faint game trail when overgrowth refused to allow us to pass, we pressed forward, following John’s lead.

  We didn’t speak much. I’m not sure when silence with those men became comfortable. It wasn’t the norm for me, to be comfortable with just anyone. Maybe the circumstances forced us, or the promise from John had torn down all walls that would have kept me at bay.

  Stopping under a boulder overhang, we all took a seat on the moss-covered rocky ground and closed our eyes. Soon the sun would set, minutes really, and the shadows didn’t give any hint as to the direction we traveled.

  I slid the bag off my back, careful to check the pack clipped around my waist for Mom’s guns and Bible. I pulled out the book, longing to touch something of hers she’d held so dear.

  Opening the cover, I stared at the family picture we had taken weeks before Dad and Braden had gone south. Mom had taped the photo inside the Bible and covered it with clear packaging tape to protect the surface. In blue ink she had written the date and our names, looping the Ls. Tracing her script with my forefinger, I couldn’t ignore the choking sensation in my throat and chest or the sadness filling my eyes.

  No one else cried. No one else lost their control. John and Bodey had no idea where the rest of their family was. That would be worse. Bad was what I had. Worse is what they had.

  I didn’t want to know what worst could be.

  Swigging from the canteen, I licked my lips. The water had been in the aluminum container a while with its stale aftertaste and metallic bite. But I didn’t stop. I needed more. A fine sweat covered me and an ache in my muscles griped at me for walking so far, over-working muscles not completely rested from fleeing with Mom.

  Bodey panted, wiping his forehead. “I haven’t run in a while. Good pace, Dad.”

  John laughed. He clapped Bodey on the upper shoulder. “Struggling to keep up with your old man, huh? That makes me feel good, even if you are exaggerating.”

  I lowered my water and watched their easy rapport. I never had ease with my mom, even when the rest of our family had been around. We always acted like a ruler separated us and we could never get closer than twelve inches or so.

  The three of us fell into silence, the dark slipping over us.

  “Are we going to have a fire?” I couldn’t help asking. Not knowing what we were doing and leaving it in someone else’s hands was harder than I’d thought.

  John shook his head. “No. It brings too much attention. We’re not stopping here longer than necessary. We need to get to a more stable shelter.”

  Guilt overcame me. I had to apologize again. “I’m sorry. They were there for me. Nothing would’ve happened to your place, if I stayed away.” We wouldn’t be looking for shelter, or they wouldn’t.

  “Stayed away? Do you think they knew you were there? I guarantee they had no idea.” John shook his head, cradling the canteen in his hands. “No, they were looking for trouble. Bodey and I saw that guy at another place. We were able to get out. It was only a matter of time before they’d head up toward our place.”

  Yeah, I understood what he was saying. Charlie and his gang looted. They didn’t have an original idea in their heads. They stole the camp and the investors as well as the things to run it with.

  Where would we go, though?

  “Take a few more minutes, you two. Then we need to get going again.” He leaned his head back against the rocky wall and held his water in his empty hand. A dad was there – he wasn’t my dad, but he was a dad and he had our safety in mind. I hadn’t been comforted like that in a long time.

  Bodey dug into his pack and pulled out a granola bar. Holding the snack toward me, he smiled. “Dad’ll sleep for a little bit, if you want to try and get some rest. I never do because naps always make me more tired.” He smiled and it was like the last few days hadn’t happened as a flush of warmth covered me. He used to smile at me in track, too, and my insides had gone all mushy then as well.

  I took the treat and looked at my hands. “I don’t nap very well, either. Thank you.”

  A stocking hat pushed the shaggy ends of his dirty blond hair down around his face, framing his strong jaw and brilliant blue eyes.

  He’d passed the awkward adolescent phase his junior year – my sophomore year. I remember the first time I saw him after summer break when he came in for a cross country meeting. My friend had pushed my arm because my mouth had fallen open and I stared.

  Broad shoulders atop a wide chest had tapered down into a tight waist. My cheeks had flamed too warm for me to look further. Okay, I peeked, but that’s all I’m going to comment on. He’d turned from talking to the boys’ coach and met my gaze. Dark lashes had mesmerized me and when he grinned and waved, I’d lifted my fingers but hadn’t smiled or anything. I froze.

  He inclined his head and then turned and joined the boys.

  I pretty much avoided him the rest of the season out of sheer embarrassment.

  Bodey bit into his bar, watching out the overhang entrance. Forearms resting on his knees, he lost all expression in his face and the skin around his eyes tightened. “I’m sorry about your mom, Kelly.”

  I didn’t want to talk about my mom. Not yet. “Thanks.” He already said that anyway. I bit into my own granola bar and stared in the same direction as him. For once, I wanted him not to talk to me. Sitting in silence with him would be perfect. I wouldn’t be alone, but I also could lose myself in my thoughts.

  He seemed to read my mind and together we watched the darkness fall completely and the stars peek above the tree line.

  Kind of a crazy first date. I would never tell him I was going to count it as a date. He’d probably think I was insane. He’d be right.

  ~~~

  John pushed a branch out of my way, letting the bough swing back to place after I passed. “Bodey, you and Kelly need to stay close. I’m not sure if town is safe yet.”

  The moon hid behind clouds, making travel slower than by day. John refused to allow flashlights so we made our way as carefully as possible. I understood the no-lights rule. I also understood pain from tripping and falling.

  He half-explained traveling at night would be the best in our situation. I got what he was saying, but I didn’t like it. Bodey didn’t either.

  One thing I liked about Bodey though was his deep respect for his dad. He wouldn’t say he didn’t like something because he understood John wouldn’t make us walk all night for fun. Bodey walked forward, following his dad and me with no complaints.

  Even when I tripped over a collection of rocks trying to assassinate me. Did I fall forward like a normal girl would? No, of course not, I had to over-correct myself, hyperextend my knee, and fall backwards, landing on Bodey and causing us both to fall to the trail.

  He grunted when my elbow landed smack in the middle of his stomach, under his diaphragm.

  I rolled off him as fast as I could, heat in my face. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean...” Of course I hadn’t meant to. He knew, right?

  Bodey reached out, cradling my elbows in his warm hands. He steadied me, waiting until I calmed down and held still. A soft side smile reached the corners of his eyes. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about me. You’re not big enough to hurt me. Are you hurt?”

  Hurt? What could be hurting while he touched me? “M
e? I’m not sure.” Yep, I was a brilliant conversationalist. At that rate, he’d fall in love with me in about eighty years.

  Oh, where was my mom to laugh about all the awkwardness with? I blinked. Crap, was I staring again?

  My knee ached, but not so bad I couldn’t stand on the leg. “I think I’m fine.” I searched his face in the dark. “Thank you. Again, sorry.” How many times would I apologize for being a klutz? Who knew how many more forest things would attack me in the dark?

  “Are you two okay? Let’s keep going.” John had picked up a long straight branch sometime back which he used as a walking stick.

  I pushed away from Bodey against my better judgment and followed John. The twinge in my knee grew more prominent. I limped as we went up a slight rise, then down. Small tree trunks offered stable grips as I passed, using each as pieces to a modified railing. I didn’t want to fall again.

  We hadn’t heard anyone behind us since we left the wood stack. As pain sharpened in my knee, I debated asking John if we could stop, but slowing us down or stopping wouldn’t help the group. I ground my teeth as each step increased my pain.

  My limp turned to a hobble and I desperately wanted to switch Bodey places so he wouldn’t watch me turn handicapped before his eyes. Plus, part of me wanted to lie down and cry. I might not be able to lie down, but as long as he could see me, I certainly wouldn’t be able to cry either.

  Bodey wrapped his arm around my waist, taking weight off my leg. “Dad, we need to stop.” The adorable boy had to be a mind reader. He helped me get to a bigger tree.

  John paused, turning to look back at us. I leaned against the trunk, wanting to scream thank you to the heavens but careful to keep my mouth closed.

  I wouldn’t complain. I wouldn’t complain. I wouldn’t complain.

  Oh man, the break was very much needed.

  Bodey passed me and stood close to John. They peeked back at me as they whispered to each other.

  Could they be any more obvious? I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see them discuss me. The pain in my knee overrode my desire to be easygoing.

  They approached my place of refuge, rock crunching on rock warning me to open my eyes. I braced myself for sympathy. Since I didn’t know them well, I didn’t know what to expect, but they had been kind so far. They wouldn’t hurt me, but would they try to carry me? Just thinking about that sent a wave of embarrassed tingling from my toes to the back of my head.