by Connor Mccoy
Chapter Nine
Christian’s wound was almost unchanged the next morning, which was disappointing considering Glen had given him another shot of penicillin before dinner the night before. But despite the creeping red gash, he had plenty of energy and was up early and ready to go.
Glen distributed the travel bread between the four of them. You could eat what you carried when you felt you needed it, and no one was appointed to the rationing police. Same with the water. Although, truth be told, there were plenty of rivers, lakes and streams in this part of Michigan and Glen had water purification tablets. They didn’t have to carry more than a couple of hours worth each.
They had arrived on his doorstep with nothing in their hands, so Glen gave each of them a small day pack to carry their food, water and space blanket. Glen’s own pack was much bigger, as he was carrying all the survival supplies. He was not tempted to divvy those heavier items out to the others. For one thing, he was used to carrying the weight while hunting. For another, they’d be less tempted to try stealing the bag if they had to kill him first.
He secretly was hoping that once they reached the town, the three would say goodbye and approach it on their own. He’d seen what these communities were like, and he didn’t relish the idea of having dealings with them. He’d love to just fade back into the wilderness and take the fast way home.
He left one last meal for the fox family before they headed out, hoping for a last glimpse of her, but she didn’t come. He left the food near the pond and locked the back door before meeting the others around the front. He left the front unlocked. Unless he was willing to board up all the windows anyone with determination would be able to get in anyway. May as well save himself the trouble of fixing a broken door or window.
They headed down the driveway, and when they reached the road Glen saw the barrier had been partially torn down. They took a few minutes to rebuild the blind that helped block the driveway, although it was pretty well grown over by now. Still, if Christian and the girls could find it, others could too.
He walked into the brush near the driveway to grab a live branch for the finishing touch and Glen saw a tarp thrown over what looked like a rock. He picked up the edge and found three backpacks, a shotgun and a shovel hidden underneath. Not that it was a surprise. Sally had said that they’d stashed their gear. The question was should he confront them and make them take their gear with them, or leave it be and hope they didn’t attempt to come back for it?
He was contemplating this when Mia came crashing through the undergrowth.
“What’s taking so long, Glen?” She stopped when she saw what he was looking at.
“Maybe you should take your belongings,” he said. “It would be better if you didn’t have to try finding your way here again.” He was angry, and bitter, but he tried keeping his voice even. “Maybe you could pass on killing me this time, in payment for stitching up Christian?”
“You were right, Chris,” she yelled. “He found our stuff.”
Glen went back to finding a good branch to finish off the blind. There was a thin maple with a branch of leaves that had begun changing color. That should serve until he returned. He left the others gathering their gear and went back to the road. When he’d finished the drive camouflage he stood in the middle of the main road and waited. There were no sounds that might indicate human presence, except for the murmuring of his group.
He assumed they were discussing how to proceed, and he hoped it didn’t include a plan where he was held at gunpoint. If they tried that tactic, he’d lead them deep into the bush and push them over a cliff. He was just that fed up with the three of them. Here he was trying to help them, and they were in there debating when to kill him. Or at least that’s what he assumed.
He considered taking off at a run in the opposite direction. He might make it to his “home” town before they were able to shoot him. If he ran through the bush and not up the road anyway. But while he was trying to decide if that was a good idea, they appeared on the side of the road, Sally holding the gun barrel down, in a non-threatening manner.
She brought the gun and handed it to him. “We thought you’d be more comfortable if you carried the weapon,” she said.
“We know that you know that we came here ready to kill you. But you saved Christian’s life and have treated us so well.” She paused and blushed. “We’ve decided it would not be right to kill you. And anyway, you don’t really have anything that would help us in our travels. So, if you still are willing to show us the town, so we can get supplies and medicine, we’d be grateful.”
Christian and Mia remained standing at the edge of the road with what Glen could have sworn were looks of hopeful anticipation on their faces. He wondered if they’d practiced them in the mirror. Very uncharitable, he chided himself.
“We’d better get moving,” he said. “We’ve wasted enough time here.” He shouldered the shotgun and wondered how many handguns they were carrying in their bags. He’d just have to count on the fact that they did not know where they were going and needed him to keep them from getting lost in the wilderness. He was surprised to find he wasn’t ready to die yet. Not ready to join his wife and child in the afterlife. That was a new development.
He was relieved when Christian and the girls decided to walk in front of him. It meant he didn’t have to focus his attention to the rear and could keep his attention on what was ahead. A couple of times he made them detour into the woods for a while when he’d seen or hear something up ahead. If his instincts gave him prickles up the back of his neck, he directed them off the road. He wasn’t taking any chances.
The air was cool, but not cold, and the sun was warm, but not too hot. It was the kind of crisp late summer weather that Glen had loved as a young man. A perfect day for hiking, although perhaps what they were doing now was more like a forced march. The others were quiet and Glen wasn’t sure if that was why. It was hard to tell what they were feeling, and if it had anything to do with Glen’s discovery of their stash. Sally had lied to him when she’d said they’d dumped their bags, when they were purposefully stashed.
And what about that wound of Christian’s? They said it was a bear, but what if he convinced one of the girls to slash him? What kind of man faked a bear attack to gain access to someone’s home? Or could they have had an argument and one of the girls lashed out? The timing of the thing bothered him, as did Christian’s state of mind. He would need to keep his eyes open.
When the sun was overhead they stopped to eat and rest. Glen chewed his roll slowly. Travel bread really was best when it had become a little stale and was chewy. While it still was soft, like it was now, it was too easy to wolf it down and eat too much. So, he paced himself and sipped water between every bite. He wanted to feel full, but not bloated or sloshy.
Mia went off into the bushes and came back stomping mad a few minutes later. “I swear,” she said, “female biology is just limiting. Like I need to be able to conceive babies.” She turned to Glen. “Would you give a woman a hysterectomy if she wanted it? It’s not like you can just go to a freaking drug store and get your monthly supplies or anything.”
“I’d advise the use of birth control pills,” he said. “A hysterectomy, under these conditions, could be dangerous.”
“So, yeah, birth control stops conception, but doesn’t do a damn thing about the monthly,” she practically spat out.
“You misunderstand me,” Glen said. “If you take them every day, and don’t skip a week each month, your body will react like it’s pregnant and you won’t have a monthly period. I’m sure there’s probably a good supply of birth control pills in the world. I suggest bartering for some of those.”
“As if,” Sally said. “We’ve basically reverted to a rule by might scenario – patriarchy. Which means all women’s issues are held hostage. I wish I’d grown up doing some kind of martial arts and shooting firearms.”
“We could start a band of women,” Mia joined in, “who roam the count
ry freeing women from idiot macho men and forcing them to behave or else. The men, I mean, not the women we’d free.”
“That’s all well and good,” Christian said dryly, “but you didn’t and you can’t. And meanwhile, back in the real world, I need antibiotics. So, maybe we should get a move on.”
Mia shot Sally a look and Sally rolled her eyes. Glen thought if these women were ever in charge, Christian had better watch out. He might be the first to go.
“From here we leave the road,” Glen said. “Watch where you walk. If you sprain your ankle, we only have two options – wrap it tight and you continue walking, or we leave you behind.”
Sally rolled her eyes at him and he could almost hear her thinking ‘Duh!’ He cracked his neck once on the right and once on the left, which made her wince, and then they headed out.
The going was a lot slower off the road. Glen knew where the game trails were, but it would take a while to reach them. Besides that, a game trail was not a paved road. There would be a path, but it still would be rough going. He watched them picking their way through the undergrowth and was satisfied that all three were being extra careful.
The odd thing about being in the back was that he had to call out directions so the others knew where to go. He also felt stupid being in the back with the gun, he would be the last one to come across something that needed shooting. Yet, he wasn’t about to give up the tactical advantage of being in the back when it came to his group. They weren’t trustworthy and he knew it.
At one point he almost ran into the other three, who were stopped dead in their tracks. They’d reached the game trail and there in the middle of it was a fox. It stood over a dead rabbit with stiff legs, watching them with his ears flat, and lip curled back. You wouldn’t think a fox could look so menacing, but even a small dog had a nasty bite. And this guy was a lot bigger than a small dog.
“It’s okay, boy,” Glen said. He was hoping this was one of his foxes and maybe it would remember his voice. “We don’t want your rabbit. We are going to back away slowly, and you can take it back to your den. Okay?” This last part was for the others, of course, so they’d know what to do.
He took several steps backward without turning around, and the others did the same. It took longer than Glen anticipated to move out of the fox’s danger zone, but when they finally did, the fox grabbed the rabbit, turned and disappeared back down the trail. Glen let his breath out.
“He’s gone,” he said and, surprisingly, his voice sounded steady. “Let’s get going. We need to cross the river before nightfall.”
It was an hour of steady walking before Glen began hearing the falls, and another thirty minutes after that before they came into view. Glen was surprised by the amount of water spilling over them. He thought by this time the flow would have abated, but the river was very full. They would have to be careful crossing at the fjord.
The climb to the top of the falls was grueling. Even Glen, who was pretty fit, was winded when he reached the top. They sat on the bank catching their breath, but not trying to talk. The roar of the falls made verbal communication useless.
When Glen felt he’d waited long enough for Christian to have recovered, he pulled a thin but very strong rope from his pack. He took it to a tree near the crossing place and tied it to the trunk. He eyed his little band of wannabe tough guys and motioned them to stay put. They looked pretty much done in. But he wanted to cross the river today, when they still had time to dry off and rest before moving on. So, he wrapped the rope around his waist and waded into the river.
The string of boulders that he normally used to cross the river was completely submerged and when he stepped onto the first rock, the pull of the current was strong. He moved slowly. The water wicked up his pant legs, making them heavy. On top of that, the water was ice-cold and he was going to lose coordination pretty quickly. But he let out the rope a little at a time and moved slowly and deliberately.
At the mid-point, the spot that was tricky even when the rocks stood above the water, he slipped and fell into the deep water. He had anticipated this, and kept his head, doling out the rope as he let the water push him downstream until he came up against a rock. From there he was able push toward the far shore, where he crawled out and lay on the bank for a few minutes.
For a moment he thought about not getting up. Just untying the rope and leaving the others to fend for themselves. But he’d be condemning them to die, most likely. So, he got up, found a second tree and pulled the rope tight across the river. Then he hooked a carabiner to the rope and a pant loop and made his way back across the river for the others.
They were at the shore near the tree, and the girls looked scared when he came back out of the water. He could see their mouths moving, but he couldn’t hear a thing. So, he just smiled and gestured in a way that he hoped conveyed that he needed to sit down for a few minutes. He gave himself ten minutes with his eyes closed. If they wanted to kill him, they could just have at it.
Chapter Ten
He did finally get them all over to the other side, but it was a near-death thing with Christian. If Glen hadn’t attached him to the line, Christian would have gone over the falls for certain. The two of them made it about a third of the way across, Glen in front showing him the way, when Christian lost his footing and went under.
Glen grabbed hold of his arm, but Christian must have been caught in an eddy because he was having trouble getting back on his feet. They struggled for a few minutes, Glen hauling him up, but Christian not being able to stand, until Glen finally realized they both were going to drown if he didn’t change tactics. So, he changed his grip, grabbing the floundering Christian under his arms and hauling him across the river to the bank.
It took a minute to get him up on the bank, and when he did, Glen saw that the front of Christian’s shirt was covered in blood. His medical supplies were in his pack on the far side of the river and he was exhausted. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath – not that anyone could have heard him. He made Christian lie on the ground, and he pulled up his shirt.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The lower end of the wound had ripped open, but at least it wasn’t the entire length of it. Hopefully, the river was clean. Because who knew what could get in there and infect him.
“Put pressure on that,” he yelled at Christian, but it was clear from the look on his face, he couldn’t hear.
He grabbed Christian’s hand, bunched his shirt in it, and pressed it to the wound. Christian nodded and held it there.
Glen headed back to the other side of the river. He grabbed his pack and the rifle, motioned to the girls to stay put, and made his way back across with the pack balanced on his head and the gun stock held horizontal, resting on his shoulder. He got to the other side, opened the pack and pulled out the medical kit. He used a hospital chuck to dry the area around the wound after wringing out the bottom edge of Christian’s shirt. He needed the area to stay dry.
Then Glen removed his own long sleeve button down shirt and the T-shirt underneath so he wouldn’t drip in Christian’s wound and used the chuck to dry his head, chest, hands and arms. When he was as dry as possible he set out the items he’d need.
There wasn’t anything to dull the pain, so he warned the injured man the best he could, and started stitching with a pre-threaded needle from the medkit. Christian’s reaction was instantaneous. He balled his fists and Glen thought at first he was going to smash him in the face. But he clenched his entire body and stayed absolutely rigid – until he passed out.
Glen was worried. The stitches shouldn’t have been that painful, especially as the cold river should have numbed him somewhat, but he was also grateful. It was much easier to work on an unconscious person. He could pull the stitches quickly, get done and get a fire going to warm Christian back up again. As he knotted the last stitch, he looked across the river to see how the women were fairing.
They weren’t there.
He was amazed to see them mid-riv
er, both attached to the line running across the river by a rope around their waist. They had stripped down to bra and panties. Neither was carrying anything, which confused him, but then he saw that they were dragging a length of rope behind them. And they had attached a second rope high in the tree he’d used to secure the rope.
“Now what are you up to?” he asked out loud, but seeing that they were doing okay, he starting collecting wood for a fire. He kept an eye in their direction, but they had the teamwork down. One would brace herself before the other moved. They worked their way across the river as a team.
He pulled his Ferro rod from his pack and was starting the fire as they climbed up onto the bank. But rather than come warm themselves up, they moved to the tree that held the other end of his rope. Mia jumped, caught a branch, and hauled herself up. When she was high enough she motioned to Sally to throw her the line, and when Sally did, Mia caught it and wound it tightly around the branch. Then, with Sally bracing her body against the tree to keep the line tight, Mia pulled the backpacks across the line, high enough above the river that the bags didn’t touch the water.
Glen dragged Christian closer to the fire, so he could dry out. When he looked up the women were there with the backpacks. They had dressed in dry clothes and looked perfectly comfortable, which made Glen irritable. Why hadn’t he thought to keep his clothes dry?
They stripped a half-conscious Christian down to his boxers and laid his clothes on rocks near the fire to dry. Mia dug through a backpack and came up with a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve knit shirt. Then she yanked Christian’s soaking boxers off him and Glen helped her pull the sweatpants on. They did the same with his shirts.