by Dave Conifer
“I get it,” Dewey said. “I will. Because, like, that’s what they’ll be trying to do to me.”
~~~
She watched Dewey walk away until he was nothing but a dark shape against the mysterious building. He was going to have to work on his stealth skills, something she’d already realized. Anybody in that cabin would hear him dragging his feet through the detritus of the forest floor before he got within a hundred feet. At least he was armed.
Darkness and a dreary coldness came on fast while she waited. It was hard to take when she lost sight of him. She remembered how disgusted she’d felt when he’d tumbled off the bus behind her. Now, however, she was thankful he’d had the concern for her and the decency to come, and afraid of what he might encounter at the cabin.
She couldn’t afford to lose him. She didn’t want to be alone. Besides, he had their best weapon. Knowing there was nothing she could do, though, she rolled onto her good side and pulled out a slice of jerky to chew while she waited.
~~~
She was only halfway finished with her snack when she heard him rustling back through the trees. Even Dewey wouldn’t have made that much noise if there was any danger at all. The news was probably going to be good.
“There’s nobody in there!” he whispered after finding her hiding place. “I walked all the way around it. It’s, like, just one room. I even went in. The smell was pretty bad but I think we can hang there as long as we want.”
“Sounds perfect,” Sarah said. “But what do you think the smell is? I hope there’s not a body in there.”
“I didn’t see one,” Dewey said. “Let’s get over there before it gets too dark to find it.”
Eager to have a roof over her head, she followed Dewey back through the woods. He guided her to the only door, and they went inside. There weren’t many windows, so it was much darker inside, but she saw enough to agree that it was not inhabited, at least not by anybody who was alive. “Let’s see what we’ve got here before it gets pitch black in here,” she suggested.
“Yeah, good idea,” he agreed. “You got me spooked about dead bodies now.”
It turned out that there was nobody dead in the cabin, neither animal nor human. The cabin turned out to consist of two rooms. The second one was more like a small utility closet, in which there was a water heater, a broom, and some cleaning supplies. The source of the smell turned out to be the corner of the main room, which looked to be a makeshift kitchen. Sarah timidly poked through a metal bin and found it full of rotten fruit, stale bread, and other unidentifiable and inedible food. There was a sink, likely served by a well since this place was obviously off the grid. Just in case, she turned the handle, even though the pump that pulled the water from the ground was likely powerless or disabled. As expected, nothing happened. She turned the lone handle on the tiny stove with the same result.
Dewey had been watching. “I saw a gas tank outside,” he said. “Propane, probably. I’ll go see if it works.”
“Don’t bother, Dewey,” Sarah said. “If it worked, it would have, uh, worked.”
“I’ll just check real quick,” he answered. “Maybe there’s a cutoff valve or something that I can turn back on.”
Since he was going anyway, she pointed at the food bin, which he took with him to dump. As she watched him limp out the door, she was reminded that he was hurt, too. He never complained, but he needed the recovery time almost as much as she did.
“I didn’t see anything,” he reported when he came back inside. “I guess a place like this in the middle of nowhere has to, like, have its own water and gas and stuff. I’m surprised they didn’t have more food stored up.”
“Maybe they did,” Sarah said. “Besides, Dewey, this isn’t the middle of nowhere, no matter how it looks. This is smack dab in the middle of an area that’s pretty well off. We’re probably ten minutes from a shopping center in every direction.”
“That’s true,” Dewey said. “I’ve noticed that. So like, what do we do now?”
“Let’s finish exploring the place while there’s still a little light left,” Sarah said. What she didn’t say was that she was hoping, badly, to find some medical supplies. Unfortunately, the search for them took no longer than three minutes, and ended in failure.
Eight
Since the previous tour of Tabernacle had been useless because they hadn’t arrived until after dark, Mark Roman arranged for another tour the next day. The Construction subcommittee vans both pulled to a stop as soon as they’d passed underneath the wooden arch, and everybody got out and stood on the sandy road. “This road goes around the entire perimeter of the camp,” Mark Roman said. “More or less. Eventually we’ll fortify this place. Anything outside the road we’ll either move or destroy. But we won’t work on that until the spring.”
They walked along the road that ringed the camp until they came to another. “This way,” Mark said, motioning for them to follow. “This leads to the center of the camp. The dining hall.” The entire group followed along behind.
So far the camp looks like more unbuilt space than anything else, Nick thought. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It meant there was lots of room to build, so long as they don’t mind knocking down a lot of trees to do it. Lord knows there’s no shortage of trees in these parts, he told himself. By then they’d reached a large wooden structure labeled by a painted sign simply as McCracken Dining Hall. Just beyond it was an even larger building, also built in late twentieth century scout camp architectural style: brown, stained shingle roof, and windows of cracked glass and fraying screens. Nick reflexively estimated that the roofs had at most five years of life left.
“This area is headquarters,” Mark said. “We’ll have to throw up a few more buildings. Right now, most of our construction materials and supplies are in that building behind this one. The Warehouse.”
“Don’t tell me,” Del said, pointing to the dining hall. “This here’s where we eat.”
“Not exactly,” Mark answered. “We can’t all fit in there at once, for one thing. It’s the Food Distribution Center. We’ll store and cook our food there, but everybody will eat in their own quarters. They’re still debating whether it’ll be pickup or delivery. Don’t worry, that’s all getting worked out by another subcommittee.”
“There’s a lake here somewhere, right?” Nick asked. “Our fresh water supply?”
“And for fishin’!” Ricky added.
“Yeah, there’s a good-sized lake at the other end of the camp,” Mark replied. “They say it’s spring-fed. I don’t hardly know what that means. But the point is that it should be there for a long time. We’ll have a look at it next visit.”
“Fresh water ain’t clean water,” Del pointed out. “We can’t drink it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Linda said sharply. “There’s a subcommittee working on that. They’ll be out here as much as we’ll be. They’ll handle it.”
“Do we have a map of this place?” Miguel asked.
“We have one,” Linda told him. “Made it ourselves. The Xerox machine isn’t working, but we can let you copy it if you feel like you need one.”
“I’d like one, too,” Gary said. “I like to know where everything is.”
“Got it,” Mark said. “I’m the same way. Trust me, when the time comes we’ll have plenty of maps. For now, let’s just finish our tour.” The group followed him to a space between the Warehouse and the Food Distribution Center. “So, in general, this right here is the main area. Over there are a bunch of cabins. Not enough for us, yet. We’ll build a bunch more in the next few weeks. All the same design.”
“How big are these cabins?” somebody asked.
“Two rooms, at most,” Mark said. “We haven’t finalized the design yet. A few hundred square feet per. These aren’t going to be mansions.”
They continued to walk the camp for another hour or two. Plans were still so preliminary that Mark had a hard time with some of the questions that came his way, but he patien
tly tried to answer as best he could. “They’re expecting us back at the school,” Linda finally told Mark, making Nick wonder who was actually in charge here. “Maybe we should start wrapping things up.”
“Yeah, cool,” Mark said. “This place is pretty big. We probably should have toured it in the vans instead of trying to hoof it. We just wanted to let you get a feel for the place. Now you have a better idea of what we’ll be doing.”
“I know you’re gonna’ say this is for another subcommittee,” Dwayne asked, “but what are we gonna’ eat while we’re building all this?” “I’ll bet there ain’t a scrap of food in there,” he said, pointing at the dining hall.
“Like you said, that’s not our problem,” Linda said. “Don’t worry. You’ll eat.”
“But not a bad question,” Mark said. “You’re probably sick of hearing this, but that’s for another subcommittee. If nothing else, these woods are full of deer. You’ll probably be tired of deer meat by next spring.”
“Yep, I can see it now,” Ricky mused. “Deer fondue. Deer casserole. Deer stew. And deer pie for dessert.” Everybody laughed. It was hard not to like Mark’s little brother.
They walked back the same way they came, where the vans were waiting. There was little conversation except between Linda and Mark up front. For the ride back to the school Nick found himself squeezed in next to Del. Besides a little small talk about the scenery, not much was said by them, or anybody else. Nick suspected that he wasn’t the only one who was feeling overwhelmed.
As for Del, Nick wasn’t sure what he thought. Delbert Ketch was a hard-boiled sort, having grown up in South Philly attending Flyers game at the Spectrum before they’d moved across the street and tripled their ticket prices. He said whatever popped into his head without thinking, a habit Nick didn’t usually admire. At the same time, Nick had found him to be somebody who was honest and always did what he’d said he’d do. In a pinch, he was sure he could rely on Del. That was important.
~~~
For the next few days Nick waited in vain for another Construction subcommittee meeting to be convened. Somehow he’d gotten the impression that they’d be starting work at Tabernacle the next day. Instead, everybody spent hour after restless hour back at Southampton Middle School wandering the halls, eating austere meals in the cafeteria, and attending the occasional assembly. At least the showers were warm, even if they were brief.
“I thought we were trying to get the camp built as fast as possible,” Nick said to his dinner mates one day. “We were out there a few days ago and everything we needed was there for us to start building. I’m not sure what the hold up is. We’ve had nothing going on since then.”
“We’ve had two meetings since then,” Matt said. “And lots of homework.”
“Homework?” Ellie asked. “Everything we do on Sanitation is homework, if you know what I mean. I’ve already been on bathroom detail twice in three days.”
“They’re being real careful about keeping that place clean,” Matt explained to the others. “Otherwise, that’s where a lot of trouble can start.”
“Germs kill! Remember when we were joking that they’d have bathroom monitors making sure we wash our hands after we pee?” Tom asked. “Fiction becomes reality.”
“Yeah,” Nick said with a laugh. “They love their rules here, don’t they? Matt, what kind of homework are you talking about? Your subcommittee’s getting ahead of mine.”
“Reading,” Matt answered. “We’ve got how-to books, survival guides, manuals on commercial water filters and pumps, you name it. Everybody had a bunch of pages assigned to them.” He winked. “Knowledge base, remember?”
“I guess you could say you’re thirsting for knowledge,” Tom said, keeping a straight face like only he could do.
~~~
It was the sixth afternoon at the school when Nick received word that work at the camp was again firmly on the schedule. The Construction subcommittee was back at Camp Tabernacle at seven the next morning after rising early and piling into the vans just after the sun came up. After an enthusiastic pep talk from Grover at dinner the previous night, most of them were anxious to get out there and get building. They were caught up in it, and ready to do whatever it took.
Not all of them were enthused by Grover's verve, however. Nick deduced by the conversation on the way to the camp and around the coffee jug once they arrived that he wasn’t the only one with misgivings about the tone of such speeches. There were others who thought that the attitude of management was sometimes over the top, and were disturbed by it.
After the coffee break Mark led them over to the Warehouse. Even before the doors were opened, the subcommittee members were already impressed at the staggering stacks of lumber piled outside, something none of them had noticed the last time they’d been there. Nick couldn’t imagine how many truckloads this had been. They had enough plywood and two-by-fours to build a thousand cabins, it seemed. There were also dozens of pallets of shingles. That’s my department, he thought with a smile.
The Warehouse itself was filled with all the odds and ends they’d need. There were cartons of nails, rolls of insulation, stacks of pre-hung windows and doors, and packages of glues, sealers, caulk and other materials that Nick couldn’t even identify. He was happy to acknowledge that Grover had delivered on his promises. They had everything they needed.
Beyond the Warehouse, in a clearing among the pines, was what looked like a workshop. Seeing the equipment and tools was a relief. Six months ago it might have looked to Nick like a primitive shop, but not now. He'd fretted half the night worrying about how they were going to knock out Mark’s long list of tasks using hand saws and hammers. Now he knew that wasn’t going to be the case. Like everything else this sect took on, it had been done well. Once again, Nick was impressed.
Nick marveled that somebody had been there even earlier that morning to set this up. There was one stand-alone band saw, its power cord trailing out of sight into the woods, where the generators would presumably be. Small power tools such as drills and jigsaws were in a metal chest. The hoses for several pneumatic hammers, which were arranged in an orderly way on a picnic table, ran in the same direction, where they too disappeared. An array of circular saws had been spread out across another ring of tables, with power cords dangling off the edge.
“Here’s the plan,” Mark said after the quick tour was over. “We’re going to build forty cabins first. Forty identical cabins. We know what walls and trusses we need, and how many of them it’ll take. So we’ll spend the next few weeks right here next to the Warehouse, building the pieces and sorting them into kits. Then we’ll truck the kits over to the village as we build them. Eventually we’ll move over there and start assembling them.”
“The village,” somebody said. “I like it.”
“There’s one thing that worries me,” Dwayne said. “Last time we were here, you said we aren’t building this place up like a fort. Not until spring, anyway. It seems like we should do that first, not wait until we’re out here like sitting ducks all winter.”
Mark shrugged. “Who’s gonna’ do it, then? The best people for doing that kind of work are standing right here. But I just told you what we have on our plate. We don’t have the manpower to fortify the camp. Think about how many men that would take. A ton. We need shelter first, and it has to get done before winter sets in.”
“So we’re just gonna’ sit out here, working like busy beavers, and hope nobody finds us,” Dwayne said. “Don't make a whole lot of sense to me.”
Mark spread his arms to indicate that it was out of his hands. “You’re not alone,” he said. “There were some Committee members who thought we should stay at the school until we could put walls around this place. That would mean waiting until the spring to start building the camp. But there are some life and death jobs that can’t wait that long.”
“Like what?” Del asked, picking up where Dwayne had left off. “You tell me what’s more life and death then not gettin' k
illed by a bunch of maniacs out here in the woods?”
“Trust me,” Mark answered. “We won’t be unprotected. The Security subcommittee is already setting up some defenses. They'll probably be back out here later today. But we can't hunker down at the school all winter even if it seems less risky. We have to get going on clean water, and farming, and a bunch of other stuff. We can’t do those at the school, even if we have people commuting back and forth.”
“Why not?” Del asked. “That’s what we’re doing now?”
“We haven’t even gotten started yet,” Mark answered, his voice becoming testier. “Besides, commuting itself is dangerous. It means we have people out on the roads, exposed to the same dangers you’re talking about. Not only that, every time we’re out on the road we risk getting seen and leading this kind of trouble right back to our front door. No, we have to plant our flag here now. That’s what the Committee decided, and that’s that.”
“Heil Hitler. You could have said that in the first place,” Del said. “The Committee says jump, we ask how high.”
“On top of what I already told you,” Mark said, ignoring the snark, “the school’s not going to be very safe for the winter, either. It’s probably more dangerous than this place. There’ll be a lot more visitors up there than out here in the middle of nowhere. Any place where a lot of people lived, well, that's where the worst troubles will be.”
“About our work plan,” Nick said. “Wouldn’t it be better to truck the raw materials over to the village and build the kits over there? If it’s nothing but sticks, and nails, it’ll pack tighter. Fewer truckloads.”
“That’s what I said, too, when it came up,” Mark answered. “But Grover overruled me. They don’t want the generators running anywhere but here, where they'll be concentrating our protection. I guess they’re worried about attracting attention. So everything that makes noise has to be right here."