by Masha Leyfer
“Also,” Desmond adds after I come out, “here’s a bag for you to keep. Put the things you carry around every day in it.” He hands me a small backpack.
“Oh, thanks.” I place my bowl and cutlery in it. I’m extremely excited about all of this, but I’m also nervous and very overwhelmed. What if I forget? What if I don’t learn? What if I’m not good at anything? What if I made the wrong choice?
I push those thoughts aside and go to find Rebekah. She is scolding a chicken at the edge of the clearing. I recognize her by the oversized jacket.
“Um...Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Molly. I was, uh, told to find you.”
“Yes. Good. My name is Rebekah. You know how the name Rebekah has the nickname Bekie?” I nod. “Do not ever call me that. I will kill you in your sleep, ich verspreche. So then, Molly, let us begin right away. Tell me this: if I left you in the woods only with a simple weapon, how long do you think until you will ie?”
“Um...I don’t know.”
“Give me an estimate.”
“Maybe several weeks?” I honestly have no idea of my survival capabilities, but that seems like a reasonable enough guess.
“Not good enough. You should survive forever. Do you know how to make a fire using...What is the word?”
“Friction?” I supply.
“Yes, exactly, good. Do you?”
“Yes, of course.” That was the first thing my parents had taught me after the Eruption.
“Good. Do you know how to hunt or fish?”
“Not really,” I admit.
“Can you distinguish the foods you can eat from the ones that will kill you?”
“Some of them.”
“Enough to survive?”
“Maybe not.”
“Not good enough. You need to learn to live using the forest. Can you find a water source?”
“Sure.”
“You do not sound very certain.”
“I’m not.”
“Uncertainty is not good enough in the wild. Tomorrow, we will get you a proper weapon and I will teach you the easy survival skills. I will just explain the important things now, because I don’t want to use more time than we have to. Your deadlines are: three weeks until you starve, three days until you die because you had no water, and it will be only hours until you freeze if you stay stationary. Remember that three days and three weeks are only estimates, and your body may not be able to handle so much time. Even if you can, you will be in a critical condition and almost dead much sooner than that. Find a shelter near a water source. I will teach you how to do that soon. Find food and water as soon as you can, so that you always have resources. Tomorrow we will go on a trip through the woods. You should get to know what these woods are like, so you will always be able to find your way back home. I will point out the edible mushrooms and plants to you. You must memorize. We will begin after breakfast, so be ready.”
“All right,” I say. “So, um, what do I do now?”
“Now is our break time.Talk to people. These are your only people. Anyone who is not in the Rebellion is the is the enemy.”
“Oh, um...Uhuh. Thanks.”
“Do not thank me.” She says and walks away. I can’t decide if that sounds ominous or humble. I walk back to the fire. I don’t want to appear cold and aloof, and besides, I’m not sure where to go if I’d want to avoid people, but at the same time, I’m terrified of conversation. I don’t want to talk about my past, but I don’t want to lie and deny it. I guess what I really want is to come to terms with it, but I don’t even know what my future will be like yet.
I think about Hopetown. I called it home for so long, but I don’t regret leaving it behind. Or I don’t think I do, anyway, but I am afraid of heading into the unknown. I hope my parents are alright. I hope I’ll be alright.
I have a chance to start over. I have a chance to build myself up anew, but I know that no matter how hard I try, I’ll always return back to being myself. But the problem is, I’m still not really sure who I am.
“Hey, Molly.” I turn around. Nathan is smiling at me.
“Oh. Hey.”
“So, how are you doing so far?”
“Good.”
Nathan waits for me to elaborate, but I’m afraid that the more words I say, the more there’s a chance of them being wrong.
“I’m Nathan, by the way, in case you don’t remember.”
“I remember.”
“Oh, um...Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“So, um, how do you like this place?”
I wonder if I’m being too cold and shoot Nahan a smile to balance out my kurt, emotionless sentences.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“Hopetown was beautiful too. Or the area around it was, anyway.”
“Hopetown,” I say heavily, “is in the past.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything that-”
“No, no.”
Judging by Nathan’s flustered expression, I must have sounded more severe than I thought. I hurry to retract my words. I can choose from any identity in the world. It’s not going to be asshole.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” I smile again. “I just meant...um...I’m happy to move on. With, uh, all of you. Here.”
“We’re very happy to have you.”
“Thank you. Um..So, what’s the Rebellion like?”
“What’s it like?” He chuckles a little. “That’s a hard question. What’s it like in comparison to what?”
“Um…” I had meant it to be a simple question. “To, uh, normal life?”
“See, I’m not really sure what you mean by that. I spent my entire life in the Rebellion, so this is my status quo.”
“Oh. Um. That’s cool.”
“Cool in comparison to what?”
I find myself getting mildly irritated.
“In comparison to Hopetown.”
“Would you rather be fighting your entire life?”
“I was fighting my entire life,” I narrow my eyes. My life may not have been as interesting as Nathan’s, but that doesn’t make it any less relevant. “Maybe my enemies weren’t as concrete as yours, but they were as real.”
“No, I’m sorry. You’re right. We’re all damaged, in some way or another. It shouldn’t be a competition. We need to help each other get better.”
“You think we can get better?”
“Well, why not?”
“We can’t get better while the world is still so sick.”
Nathan shrugs.
“Then we’re just going to have to help the world first.”
CHAPTER 5
I wake up to the sound of birds chirping. Through the net of the unzipped window, I can see the first rays of the sun rising above the forests. The only noises are the birds and the wind quietly rustling in the branches. I stretch. The night was colder than I expected, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay a thousand times for escape from Hopetown.
Perhaps my spite for my old home is overpowering, but it seems to me that the hard forest ground is more comfortable than my bed back in Hopetown. And although my sleep this night was as restless and plagued by nightmares as it has always been, I sleep easier here. I hope that that will last.
Rebekah told me to meet her after breakfast, but she didn’t specify when that would be, but I would rather not be remembered as the girl who was late to her first day of training. I pull on my socks and boots and unzip the door. Nobody is out yet. I guess I’m not late.
I breathe in the air. It is pure and crisp and smells like the forest. The Hopetown wind was a mix of sea water and vomit and wasted lives.
I let it all soak in. The cold mountaintop air, the chirping birds, the rays of sunlight warming my fingertips, the cluster of tents around me. I let the sun revitalize me and hope that I’ll survive the following days. At least now, if I die, I’ll have seen the world outside the Gate, if only once.
I hear a tent unzip behind me.
Big Sal walks out, yawning.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Good morning, dear. How’d you sleep?”
“Um. Pretty good.”
“Good. Was it too cold? Do you need extra blankets?”
“Um. I don’t think so.”
“Well, if you change your mind, just ask. But now, it’s time time for breakfast.”
“Oh. Can I help?” I venture.
Big Sal smiles broadly.
“Of course you can! You can make a fire, right?” I nod. “Can you do that, please? It would be a big help.”
“Sure.”
“You can use the firewood in that pile over there. Thanks a lot.”
“No problem.”
I begin stacking up the sticks and logs in the triangular formation that my father taught me. A small box of matches lies nearby. I light a piece of bark and watch the entire stack of wood go up in flame. Big Sal brings the pot. It has already been scrubbed clean from last night’s stew.
“We’re having oatmeal today,” she says, pulling out a large bag of oats from the food storage tent. She dumps half of the bag’s contents in, along with a small mound of snow. She stirs it with her large wooden spoon until the snow starts boiling. As she stirs, a chicken comes out from behind the coop, clucking self righteously. Big Sal shoos it away with her spoon.
“Don’t get so close to the fire, you egghead!” She reproaches it. “We don’t want fried chicken for breakfast!”
After the oatmeal has simmered for some time, she pulls vials of sugar, cinnamon, and other spices from her coat pockets and begins shaking them over the pot like a witch over her magic potion. Soon, a sweet, mouthwatering aroma rises from the pot, bringing more people out of their tents. Nathan comes out first.
“Good morning, Big Sal. Molly. Breakfast smells delicious.”
“Doesn’t it?” Big Sal says. “That’s the vanilla. You can make yourself useful and stir it.”
“Only if I get to lick the spoon,” he responds, taking the ladle from Big Sal.
“Keep dreaming, kid.”
Within the next ten minutes, the entire Rebellion is out with plates at the ready, crowding around the pot. Big Sal takes the ladle back from Nathan and smells her creation. She adds a final pinch of cinnamon and a look of approval settles on her face.
“It’s ready,” she declares. “Form a line, people!”
Everyone quickly scrambles into a shaky line formation, eagerly accepting the hot oatmeal from Big Sal. I end up on a log in between Smaller Sally and Nathan. I try the oatmeal; it is even better than it smells.
I can’t help but smile at the thought of good food every day. There are some basic pleasures of life that I will never stop enjoying. Nobody talks during breakfast; we are all too busy stuffing our faces with Big Sal’s concoction. After we finish eating and I wash my plate out with snow, I go to Rebekah.
“You are ready? Good. We must get you a weapon first, so that you can kill everything that wants to kill you. Emily is the weapons mistress. Ey, Emily!” Emily turns around. “Molly needs a weapon.”
“Took you long enough!” She responds from across the field. “Come here and we’ll pick one out.”
We go to the weapons tent. The inside is filled with knives, swords, bows and arrows, crossbows and even a few guns - an extreme rarity these days.
“Do you have a weapon preference?” Emily asks me.
“Um…” In all honesty, the only weapon I’ve ever held in my life is a kitchen knife. “No.”
“Okay. I usually start people off with a crossbow. They’re my favorite weapons.”
She directs me over to a table stacked with them. Her hand hovers over the weapons, as if she is feeling for the perfect one. Finally, she chooses a simple black crossbow made of a material I don’t recognize that extends just above my knee.
“Try this one. We’ll shoot at the board outside.”
“Don’t forget the-” Rebekah begins.
“What? Do, you want something from me too? Das ist ein weapon. Das ist nicht your weapon.”
“Deine Deutsch ist fuchtbar,” Rebekah responds, smiling into her sleeve. “And I meant the bolts.”
“I wouldn’t forget the bolts,” Emily says, grabbing a bundle and giving Rebekah a friendly pinch. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about. My German is perfect. Anyway, let’s go.”
She leads me into the woods where a ragged old board several centimeters thick leans against a tree approximately seventy meters away. In the center, a target is drawn in red paint. Emily pulls one of the bolts out of the bundle.
“First, you have to cock it. This one has a draw weight of fifty kilograms. That’s pretty heavy to cock manually, but most of ours have a lever. Watch.” She takes the lever at the back and pulls it toward herself. “As simple as that. You shoot like this.” She kneels, putting the elbow supporting the crossbow on her knee, props the back of the crossbow against her shoulder, breathes in, and releases the bolt on her breath out. It whistles through the air and lands smack in the center of the target.
“Now you try. Cock it first.”
I take the crossbow and pull the lever back.
“Like this?”
“Yep. take the bolt and put it here. Yeah, just like that. Now take a deep breath and press the trigger.”
I prop the crossbow against my shoulder, trying to mimic Emily’s position, breath in and release. In the blink of an eye, the bolt crosses the distance and skims the right of the board. I am surprised at the power behind the shot. Even though Emily told me that it has a draw weight of fifty kilograms, I didn’t expect to feel all of them.
“It takes a lot of practice,” Emily says. “Try again. Keep your elbows at right angles.”
I draw out another bolt, breathe in, and shoot again. My mind fills with dreams of hitting the board smack in the center and impressing everyone, but this time, it just barely lands on the right side of the board.
“Not bad for the first time,” Emily reassures me. “We’ll work on it tomorrow. Keep this. I think it’ll be good for you. Remember to take the bolts out of the board.”
“Uhuh. Thank you,” I say.
“Thank you, Emily,” Rebekah says and then addresses me again. “We’re taking the snowshoes. You brought your own, I remember, yes? Get them now. And take the bolts out on the way into the woods. Go. Schnell, we do not have all day.”
I go to get my snowshoes from my tent while Rebekah ducks into her own.
“This is your survival bag,” Rebekah says once we regroup. She shakes the small bag meaningfully. “You will need this. Be careful with it. Now get ready for the most important walk in your entire life.”
I pull my snowshoes off of my backpack and Rebekah hands me the pouch.
“Look inside. It has a fire-maker, three meters of rope, dry bark, a bottle and water-cleaner, a fishing hook and string, some basic medicine things, and a flare, for signaling. Do not lose it and do not use anything that you can not reuse unless you have to. Keep it on you at all times. You never know when you will need it.” She leads me to the edge of the woods. “Follow me.”
We walk up to the board first. I pick up the bolt that missed the board and pull out the two that hit. They are surprisingly hard to pull out. I can see that they went almost all the way through.
“Impressive, yeah?” Rebekah says. “You can keep them in your backpack. Let us go.”
Rebekah walks as if the snowshoes are an extension of her own legs. I trod awkwardly along behind her. I never considered myself too ungraceful nor did I realize how awkward I am in snowshoes, but I guess I just never saw elegance like Rebekah’s.
The pine trees look even more massive from down here, standing in between them and looking up. They block out large patches of the sky, casting dark shadows across the snow covered ground. The snow absorbs most of the sound and everything is muffled. The wind sends hundreds of whispers through the pine needles. My breath forms little clouds in front of me. After we walk s
everal minutes, Rebekah turns around and begins talking.
“If you ever get lost here for any reason, you should know that our camp is to the West of these woods. I hope you are not too much ein Dummkopf and know directions.” She raises her eyebrows and looks at me.
“Um, yeah. I know directions.”
“Good. What do you think is the first rule of the wild?”
“Um...Don’t die?”
“Yes. Correct. Number one rule of the wild: stay alive. To stay alive, you must stay healthy. Gesundheit über alles. Do not get cold, drink water, eat food, but only nonpoisonous food, and do not get infections. Most of the year, you can use snow as water. Make sure to heat it up first. Eating cold snow is bad for you. Water from running streams is better than still sources, because moving water has less chances of infection. If you do not know where the nearest water source is, follow animal tracks downhill. They almost always will end up at a water hole. If none of these sources are available, you can collect water as dew in the morning. I hope it never comes to this for you, but if it does, never drink seawater or your own urine. You can evaporate either of those and collect the steam, however. In all likelihood, you will never need to do either of those, though,” she reassures me. “You getting it so far?” I nod and although I know most of what she’s telling me, her didactic mannerism make me wish that I had some way to take notes instead of trying to remember all this.
“Alright, that is it for water. Now food.” She points to a small orange mushroom growing at the base of a tree. “That is edible. In this region, it is the only one that looks like that and they are fairly common. Collect as many of them as you can. Protein is important. Earthworms and bird eggs are good protein sources. We will practice getting them today. Hopefully, that way, you will never starve. After lunch, Emily will start teaching you how to use you how to use your crossbow properly. Once you can hit the target enough times, I will teach you how to hunt.” Just as I begin to think that Rebekah isn’t actually human, she pauses and laughs.
“What?” I ask dumbly.