With everyone rested and educated on proper hydration, they set off again. Derek paid closer attention to how he was drinking. He still felt a bit strained, but he wasn’t used to this sort of activity, so all things considered, he thought he was doing pretty well. With his headache essentially gone, Derek could enjoy the hike more and soak in the nature around him. The trees were in full form, their leaves clinking and jangling like tiny, dull cymbals. Derek could hear birds and squirrels chattering. They passed a few other hikers, but Derek hardly noticed. It was so rare to be in a place with so few people or stimuli; it was just him, the woods, and the blue sky before him. Derek let his mind wander from his anxieties and just rest on putting one foot in front of the other, drinking water, and keeping his eyes on the back of Adam’s pack and Buckle at the very front. It was almost hypnotic.
Buckle led them in a circle so at the end of the four hours, they were back at their own campsite. It was around 430 in the afternoon, but everyone was hungry for dinner. Buckle got the canister, which was thankfully bear-free, and got out the cooking gear and food.
“I love these things,” he said, laying out an assortment of backpack meals. “What do you guys want? Chili, Mac ‘n Cheese, or Chicken a la King?”
They agreed on chili for that night. At Buckle’s suggestion, they all gathered some branches and wood for the fire. When they had a good armful, Buckle headed over to the pit with his equipment. Eager to see how to start a fire, Adam followed.
“Can I try?” he asked.
“If your dad says it’s ok.”
Derek nodded and watched as Buckle got out his fire-starting gear.
“What’s that?” Adam asked.
“Oh, these are awesome. These are tinder cubes. You can literally start a fire anywhere with this, even when it’s wet out. Here, get your knife.”
Adam retrieved the knife from his pack and obeyed Buckle’s instructions on how to open the blade properly.
“Just scrap the cube, so you get some of that white stuff on the wood. Yep. Now use this, it’s a blast match, you just push down and it lights.”
Adam’s eyes widened in awe as the cube scrapings lit up in a single yellow flame. He looked to Derek, who gave him a thumb’s up. Buckle laughed.
“Way easier than what Dad made us do, right, Derek?” he said. “Trying to start a fire with friggin’ sticks and a piece of wood. I never thought my palm skin would grow back.”
He winced at the memory. Derek remembered it, too. All he ever got was a lot of smoke. Buckle tossed some dry leaves into the fire and watched them catch fire, their edges curling and blackening. Derek, who had been standing while Adam started the fire, sat down on one of the logs that had been placed as a bench by the pit. He watched the fire grow, the flames moving like liquid along the wood and lapping the air. Adam carefully closed his knife and returned it to his pack.
“So how do we cook this?” Adam asked.
“Just boil up some water and toss all this in,” Buckle replied, filling the pot from his water bottle.
He set the pot over the rusted pit grill. Now they just had to wait. Derek rubbed the log with his hands, feeling the texture of the wood. It was so different from all the other things he touched, like cardboard boxes, masking tape, paper...it was a weird concept, thinking about how things felt in nature versus the more developed world. Nature was more complex; there were the rough edges of bark sticking up, the fuzz of moss, and the gelatinous cushion of a tiny fungus. Stuff in the “real” world all had the same texture: smooth, soft, hard, and so on. Derek picked a piece of bark from the log and rubbed it between his fingers. It crumbled into a gritty dust.
“How did you get so good at camping, Uncle Buck?” Adam asked, poking the fire with a stick.
“Practice,” Buckle replied immediately. “Lots of trial and error. And I read a lot of books. Your grandpa took me out camping a lot, but it wasn’t until I got older and tried things for myself that I really got comfortable.”
“Dad doesn’t talk about Grandpa very much, or camping.”
“It was mostly just your Grandpa and me,” Buckle replied, glancing up at Derek briefly.
“Why?”
Buckle didn’t reply, as if waiting for Derek to jump in. Derek just sat there, pulling at more bark from the log. He hadn’t told Adam very much about Josiah and the boy never knew his grandfather. Josiah and Derek’s mother had already been dead for four years by the time Adam came along. All he really knew was that Josiah had been a mailman and had strong opinions on everything.
“Well,” Buckle finally said. “To put it gently, Adam, your grandfather was kind of a dick.”
Chapter 5
The next day was much harder. Buckle got them up early, around 7am, by shaking their tents and making growling noises. Breakfast was granola, dried apricots, and a banana each. Buckle had Derek and Adam drink plenty of water, as well, saying they needed to start out the hike already hydrated.
“We’ll be going up and down some hills today,” Buckle warned. “So get ready.”
It was already warm and clammy when the three set out, foreshadowing a scorcher of a day. Derek felt beads of sweat pop on his forehead as they trudged along the path. He concentrated on taking deep breaths, determined to not wimp out. Sleeping in a tent after yesterday’s hike had not helped with any soreness or stiffness. Derek felt like his joints were cased in concrete and that each step sent a painful crack through him. Ahead of him, Adam yawned loudly. Buckle shot a grin over his shoulder.
“Sleep good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Adam replied. “Just not enough.”
“You’ll feel better soon,” Buckle assured him. “Gotta get the blood moving.”
Buckle began to whistle. The sound broke the humid air in a strong, low tone. It continued for a few minutes before Buckle allowed the sounds of the forest to take over.
They walked two hours without a break in relative silence. Buckle would occasionally check on Derek and Adam, who would reply in short sentences. When they paused to rest, Buckle poured out a stream of questions as if he had been holding his tongue until the opportunity came along.
“Have you been prepping weapons yet?” he asked Derek, screwing the lid back on his water bottle.
“I have a knife and a gun. What else do I really need?”
“Are you planning on staying put if things get rough?”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”
“Then you should get some stuff to barricade your house up. Booby traps.”
“Booby traps?” Adam asked, perking up.
“Oh yeah. To keep out lotters. You can put nails through wooden boards, and put them under windows, so if someone tries to climb in they’ll get a nail through their foot.”
“Yeesh,” Adam exclaimed, wincing at the thought.
“Or even just tying up a bunch of fishing line in your trees, so the bastards get tangled up. Anything ya’ll can do to keep people away from your house is fair game. The downside to getting prepped is people will want your supplies and aren’t going to be polite about it. Things will get especially bad in cities and stuff, where lots of people are. There’ll be riots.”
“Good thing we’re not in the city, huh,” Derek remarked.
“Hmm,” Buckle said, squinting. “You’re pretty close to one though. A big one. Ya’ll should really think about bugging out.”
Derek had heard Buckle use that term before, but he hadn’t really paid attention to what it meant exactly. His quizzical look signaled to Buckle that he should explain further.
“Y’know, having a go-bag and a plan on how to leave town. You pack three days-worth of essentials and just go. You’ll want to have a route and new destination planned beforehand though, or you get killed.”
“We hadn’t really thought about it. We’ve just been building the stockpile.”
“And that’s great,” Buckle assured him. “But if things get real messy, you might just want to get out, especially since you are so close
to St. Louis. You’ll get a lot of desperate people banging down your door and a bunch of them might be diseased.”
“If we’re just going to leave, why buy all that stuff?” Adam asked, looking from Buckle to Derek.
“Cause it may not be good to leave,” Buckle explained. “Bugging out can sometimes be the more dangerous option, like if there are already a bunch of gangs roaming around or if the weather is bad. You gotta be prepared for a lot of different situations.”
Adam nodded, convinced. Buckle chewed a handful of trail mix and looked up at the sky. A flock of birds erupted from the trees and went wheeling around the branches, squawking angrily. Buckle chuckled to himself.
“Something scared those suckers,” he remarked.
Derek didn’t give Buckle’s bugging-out idea much thought. He was tired and sore, and didn’t want to strain his brain as well as his body in that particular moment. Buckle always had a million ideas running through his head and it just wasn’t possible to give them all equal importance. Derek was confident in his stockpile and safety of the area. His neighbors were all decent people; they would all take care of each other if they had to. He didn’t know them that well, sure, but enough so that he’d do something if someone was breaking into their houses. Buckle stood and twisted to the left side, then the right.
“Well. Ready to keep going? We got a big hill to get down.”
Buckle was not kidding about the hill. When they reached the slope, Derek peered down nervously, wondering how on earth they were going to get down an edge that steep. He turned to Buckle and saw that his brother was getting out paracord, harnesses, and a pair of climbing gloves.
“We’re just going to tie this to this tree and shimmy down,” Buckle explained. “You guys got your gloves?”
Adam watched as Buckle wrapped the cord around a tree and knotted it, tugging it to make sure it held.
“Is that a special kind of knot?” Adam asked, pointing.
“Figure eight,” Buckle said. “A good basic knot.”
The name hit Derek’s brain like a cymbal. He instantly felt ill, like he had just been dropped twenty feet without warning. He stood chewing his lip while Buckle let himself down on the rope, bracing his feet against the rock.
“See? Not so hard,” Buckle called from the bottom. “Come on down, Adam, I’ll spot ya.”
Derek watched as Adam put on his climbing gloves and backed up over the hill. He had no fear in his eyes and even with a swarm of bad memories in his brain, Derek couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. He looked at the knot Buckle had tied. Strong. Unmoving. It had been nearly twenty years since Derek’s last camping trip with his father, but the memory was as fresh as if it had been fifteen minutes.
At 16, Derek stood at only 5’7 and was dwarfed by his 6’2 father and 6’4 brother. He had been convinced to go camping for Buckle’s sake, who was 19 and set to go off to college. Derek did not have high hopes for the trip and planned to make himself as invisible as possible. Josiah was in a typically gruff mood. They loaded the truck and drove the two hours to the camp in silence. The weather was bad: overcast, with the promise of storms. Buckle had a plane ticket good in four days, making postponing the trip impossible. At the site, the men set up the tents and gathered the fishing gear. Josiah never brought food on his excursions; he preferred to forage off the land. It took three hours for the fish to bite, despite the rain, and even longer to cook them. After the meal, Josiah insisted they take a hike. Wet and cold, his sons obeyed without complaint. When they reached a hill, Josiah instructed Buckle to tie the rope so they could lower themselves down.
“Derek, do you want to do it?” Buckle asked.
“He better not,” Josiah mumbled. “Not enough practice.”
“It’s an easy knot,” Buckle insisted.
He held out the rope encouragingly. Boosted by Buckle’s confidence, Derek tied the knot - a figure eight - and held his breath as Buckle descended first. He reached the bottom with ease. Josiah was next. He pushed his large body back, facing Derek. He briefly met Derek’s gaze, but didn’t show any expression. Josiah looked hastily away and stepped back. The rope strained, but held. At least for a little while. Derek hadn’t tied the knot correctly. Under Josiah’s increased weight, it slipped. Derek heard Josiah yell and could only watch in horror as the rope disappeared over the edge. For a moment, time froze. Cautiously, like a rabbit approaching a trap, Derek stepped forward and looked down. Buckle had rushed to break Josiah’s fall and they were both on the ground, breathless, but otherwise appearing uninjured. Derek took another rope from his pack and tied a new knot, a different knot, and let himself down. By the time he reached the bottom, Josiah was standing, rubbing the back of his head. His jaw was set hard, as if his teeth were clamped down on something.
“Are you guys ok?” Derek asked, trying hard to not stammer.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Buckle said hastily, trying to anticipate his father’s reply.
“That was real stupid, boy,” Josiah said.
Derek’s heart sank. He wished he had just stayed on top of the cliff.
“Should have just had your brother do it. You’re no good in places like this. You’re not like a real man should be.”
“Dad,” Buckle began, but was sharply cut off.
“You don’t have to defend him, son. He needs to toughen up. I did all I could, but it just wasn’t good enough.”
Josiah looked like he might continue, but he just looked at Derek and shook his head. That small gesture was worse than a thousand lectures. Derek spent the rest of the hike in silence. He walked with a slump. He shouldn’t have come. He should have just stayed as far away as possible. By the time the weekend was over, Derek had made the decision to find a way out of his father’s house and never come back. When they got home, Derek made a series of calls, landing himself a job and a place to crash in the city. Buckle left for school and a few months later, a day after his 17th birthday, Derek caught a bus and was gone. He didn’t talk to his father much after that. Four years later, Josiah Evers was dead of a heart attack. A year later, Derek’s mother was gone, as well, after a short battle with cancer. With no family left except Buckle, Derek finally felt like he could be free of his crushing insecurities. Unfortunately, death only takes away the person, not the wounds they’ve inflicted. Even after all the time that passed, Derek’s father haunted him. Seeing that eight-figure knot was like seeing a ghost.
The rest of the hike drained Derek. It felt like each step was drawing him closer and closer to that shame Josiah had showered on him. He grew increasingly frustrated.
Twenty years! he thought bitterly. Twenty years and you still haven’t gotten over it. You’re a man now. You’ve got an amazing wife who loves you and an amazing son. You’ve built a life you’re proud of, so damn that old man! What did he know about anything?
Wrestling thusly with his emotions wore Derek out and by the time the day was done, he just wanted to go home.
It was 11am, so the three cooked up the last of their food for their lunch and packed up. Adam talked nearly all the way back to Mineral Point, asking questions about hunting and knots and anything else he could think of. Derek leaned his head against the window. His legs ached. When they got back to Buckle’s house, Derek almost thought about asking Buckle if he could take a nap before he and Adam headed home, but decided against it. He really just wanted to be alone. Buckle’s place kind of freaked him out. It used to be a barn, but Buckle had completely refurbished it so it had rooms, plumbing, and everything. He used electricity, but tried to limit himself as much as possible. Gas lamps and candles lit just about every room after a certain hour. It was like stepping back into pioneer days.
On the drive home, Adam’s exhaustion took over and he remained relatively quiet. He hummed softly along to the radio and looked out the window, a happy expression on his face. Derek’s seething insides grew calmer seeing his son this way.
“Did you have fun?” Derek asked.
�
�Yeah!” Adam exclaimed. “Thanks, Dad.”
“For what? Your uncle Buckle did everything.”
“Well, you were there, too. So, thanks.”
Derek smiled at his son, who returned to his humming. After a few more moments of silence, Adam turned back to his father.
“What did Uncle Buck mean when he said Grandpa was a dick?”
“Oh,” Derek said, the question surprising him. “Your grandfather was just a harsh guy.”
“How so?”
“He….he had weird ideas about punishments. He thought making us kids scared was the best way to teach us a lesson, so a lot of times, he’d threaten to beat us and make us wait in our rooms, but he’d never actually come. Other times, he would use his belt, so we wouldn’t think he was full of hot air.”
“That’s pretty messed up,” Adam said, his eyes wide.
“Yeah. Obviously, I wasn’t close to him.”
“Were you sad when he died?”
It was a very direct question. Derek had been surprised when he got the news, because Josiah wasn’t that old, but he had been so distant from him then, that nothing really changed.
“I wasn’t happy about it,” Derek replied. “Honestly, that’s all I can really say.”
Adam didn’t say anything in response, leaving Derek to muse on the conversation. He and Adam hadn’t really had a heart-to-heart like this before. Adam was a mature boy for his age.
“You’re a good dad,” Adam said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Just so you know.”
Whatever happened in the woods to make Derek’s wounds hurt again, it was totally worth it just for those few words from Adam.
When Derek and Adam walked into the house, Amy was in the living room with the dog. Roadie jumped up when he heard the garage and stood wagging his tail.
“Hey, guys!” Amy cried, standing up.
“Hi, Mom!” Adam called back. “I’m gonna put my stuff away!”
“No hug?” Amy said with mock sadness.
Adam trudged over to her and allowed himself to be embraced. Amy lifted him off the ground and made growly sounds to further exasperate him.
Band of Preppers: A Prepper Fiction Novel (Book 1) Page 5