Beyond All War

by Eric Keller

  . . .

  The chainsaw sputtered briefly and then died. Morreign pulled the starter cord a couple of times even though she knew it was out of gas. Their fuel supply disappearing rapidly. When planning on ZAwhat supplies they needed Morreign grossly underestimated the amount of gas to bring. The shoddy state of the cabins allowed the wind to cut straight through which meant they needed a lot of firewood. It took forever for the out of shape city folk to cut wood by axe and they quickly resorted to the gas-guzzling chainsaw.

  Paul picked up a fallen limb so he could drag it through the snow closer to the cabins as he asked, “Out of gas already?”

  Morreign moved to help him. “Yeah, it goes fast.”

  “At some point soon we’re going to have to go on a reconnaissance mission, try to find fuel and other supplies.”

  She always knew resupplying might need to happen at some point if they were going to stay out here long term, but she never suspected the issue would arise after only five days. A trip would be dangerous if the attack still continued. Plus, anyone left alive would be very protective over any useful items. They might be heading into violent chaos all because she failed to bring enough gas.

  “Yeah, but not yet. Let’s put in some extra effort with the axes before taking that risk.”

  “Ok, my hands are already nothing but blisters anyway. We can also tear apart some of the other cabins without too much work.”

  “Good idea. I didn’t think enough about heating.”

  They set the limb down near the woodpile. Paul stumbled through the snow and threw his arms around her. With both of them wrapped in massive parkas and ski pants, it lacked the intimacy of a normal hug, but she appreciated the gesture. Fatigue already pulled at her and each day only got harder.

  Morreign set down the useless saw, picked up the lighter axe and turned to waddle back to the trees for more wood when they heard Leo angrily call out, “Stay right there and let me see your hands.”

  Leo stood on the roof of his family’s cabin where he was trying to patch a particularly wide hole. Without looking down at them, he said, “Paul, Mo, we’ve got company.”

  Paul cursed and they hurried towards the cabin as Morreign asked nervously, “How many? How far?”

  Leo answered, “Can only see one guy with a dog. About a hundred yards out and he’s stopped walking for now.”

  Morreign and Paul instantly scurried to the truck where they kept their two weapons, a thirty aught six hunting rifle and a twelve gauge shotgun. They were a necessity, but having them around curious children made all of them very nervous. In order to alleviate this worry both of the guns had trigger locks with each of the adults wearing a key on a chain around their neck.

  Fumbling to dig her key from under her numerous layers of clothing with her freezing hands, she hurriedly said to Paul, “The kids. They’re down at the river with Ainsley.”

  Paul was unlocking the shotgun. “They should be ok. We’ll make sure this stranger stays up here, one way or another.”

  His tone sounded so strange Morreign actually stopped digging for her key and looked over at him. Paul’s normally jovial face looked stern, his eyes glaring. The gun. Merely holding the firearm made him aggressive.

  For the hundredth time, the ludicrousness of their situation struck at her. Days ago this gentleman worried about playdate schedules and what brand of vitamins to buy, now he clutched a rifle, seemingly eager to do battle. Their life was now overlaid with a constant and powerful sense of the unreal.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Leo yelling at their visitor, but she could not make out what was being said. She looked over at Paul and said, “What if this guy isn’t alone? I mean, if there’s a group wouldn’t it be smart for them to use this guy as a decoy or whatever and send others around to the river so they could come up that way as well?”

  Paul nodded. “Right. I’ll head down there and make sure they’re safe.”

  He turned and ran awkwardly in his heavy clothes towards the river. Morreign did not actually think more than one person was out there, but the look on Paul’s face scared her, made her think he could do something rash. Best to have him far away. Rushing back to Leo, she made a mental note that the kids getting a hold of the guns might not be the only risk the weapons posed.

  “Leo, here’s the rifle.”

  Morreign handed the gun up. Leo called out, “Stay right there. No funny business.”

  He then bent down and took the rifle, telling Morreign, “He’s still standing out there. You want me to tell him to leave?”

  She shook his head, “No, if he’s dangerous or desperate, he’ll only come back at night or something. We need to deal with this now.”

  Leo blanched at this comment. The idea of using the rifle on a random stranger apparently did not appeal to the fun-loving engineer. His hesitation was a relief. Morreign hastily added, “We’ll only talk to him. Talk to him and then decide if he’s a threat.”

  Climbing up onto the low roof, Morreign could see the stranger but could not get much of a sense of the man as the setting sun made deep shadows amongst the trees. Wearing a faded yellow snowmobile suit with a hood and scarf around his face, he could be young or old, massive or small, angry or happy. A rifle hung casually off his shoulder like it lived there and a wooden sled sat behind him. The dog looked to be a German shepherd kind of breed, contently laying on the snow.

  Leo, holding the gun low where it was visible but not threatening, whispered over to her, “He says he’s a hunter and he wants to know what we’re doing here.”

  “A hunter? Is there any wildlife?”

  “Don’t know, we’ve seen nothing. But that’s what he said.”

  “Ok, stay ready.”

  Morreign moved forward and called down, “You can come closer. We need to talk.”

  Moving through the deep snow, he worked his way nearer, the dog obediently pulling the sled along. As he moved, he looked from side to side, even glancing behind him once or twice. Morreign realized the visitor was worried there might be others out there with more guns. Maybe he really was only a wayward hunter.

  “What’s your name?”

  The hood tilted up at them, but it was impossible to make out any features. “Sam.”

  The way he answered sounded slightly like a question, as if he was unsure about his name or, at least, unused to speaking it. “I’m Morreign, and this is Leo. What are you doing out here?”

  Sam reached up, lowered the hood and scarf, revealing a head of thick black hair and dark eyes. Maybe mid-twenties. “Hunting. What’re you doing here?”

  “You don’t know what happened?”

  This seemed to confuse the young man. “What do you mean?”

  Leo glanced over at her, silently expressing how it might be best not to tell this visitor about civilization recently ending. Morreign was unsure what to do, but she hated to lie, so she opted for the truth, “About a week ago, an attack. A massive attack. We fled but assume Thule is destroyed, everything is probably destroyed. War likely rages everywhere.”

  Sam merely stood and looked up at the stranger who was telling him the earth now burned. After a moment, he bent slightly and scratched the dog’s head without lowering his gaze. He said, “Everywhere but here.”

  “Right, that’s why we’re here.”

  He nodded and said calmly, “I sometimes sleep in the lodge, I’ve got a place about five miles downriver, but sometimes I stay here, in a back room, if I’m out too far to get back before dark.”

  She leaned over to Leo and asked, “What do you think?”

  “Well, now that you’ve made friends, I sure as hell don’t want to shoot the
guy.”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” She turned back to Sam, “If you leave the gun on the sled, you can join us for dinner.”

  He stared up at the two of them, apparently considering his limited options. Finally, without a word, he took the gun off his shoulder and laid it on the sled before untying the dog and trudging through the snow towards them. As they moved to get off the roof, Leo asked her, “Join us for dinner?”

  . . .

  The hammer blow sounded shockingly loud in the frozen, dark hallway as Hale hit the doorknob again, then again. Finally, the cheap metal gave way, breaking off from the door and Hale fiddled the locking mechanism out.

  This was the last apartment on the floor for him to check. All the other units he entered were under construction and essentially empty except for scattered building supplies. Rosa had bragged about being one of the first tenants allowed to move in because of her important position, and unfortunately, she had been telling the truth.

  Hale took a deep breath as he turned on the flashlight and slowly opened the ruined door. Finally, a completed and inhabited apartment. Furniture had been pushed into an odd pile in the living room. Someone hiding out, having built a fort of sorts to insulate them from the cold. Hale considered leaving, not wanting a confrontation, but curiosity won out, and he moved cautiously inside.

  Carefully skirting the mass of furnishings, Hale shone the light along the floor revealing empty food containers among a tangle of blankets. The light fell on a battered, yellow, stuffed elephant. A child? Children were a rarity at Thule but he supposed someone high up in the military could have gotten permission to bring their family.

  It took Hale only a couple of minutes to survey the apartment. No one there. They must have fled. Despite not knowing the family, Hale found himself greatly hoping they made it somewhere safe. He also found himself hoping they left behind some useful supplies.

  He started in the kitchen where he found a good deal of useable food. He rapidly filled his duffel bag and was looking for another bag to use when he heard a soft thump. Realizing he had let down his guard, Hale grabbed up his pointy stick and shined his flashlight in the direction of the sound. Nothing.

  He strained to hear in the dim light, but there was no more noise. Needing to check it out regardless, Hale moved into the bedroom decorated for a child. It was in shambles, the bed pulled apart, clothes covering the floor. Hale moved through the mess, panning the flashlight around the room. When the light hit the closet, he glimpsed movement under the door. His heart began to beat quicker.

  Leaving a person hiding in the closet was an option but he worried not addressing this now might make for a bigger problem later. Better to deal with the potential threat immediately.

  Deciding that startling them was in his favour, Hale leveled his sad weapon and threw the door aside.

  “Please, please, don’t hurt me.”

  The high pitched plea came from a shadow beneath hanging clothes. Shining the light towards the corner, Hale saw a pale face poking out from a heavy blanket. A child. Seven years old or so. Startled by the strange sight, Hale lowered the light and stepped back, saying, “It’s ok, it’s ok. I won’t hurt you.”

  The kid pleaded again from out of the darkness, “Please don’t take all my food, please don’t leave me nothing.”

  The reality of the situation struck at Hale. A kid, apparently all by himself. Could he leave a kid alone in the cold and the dark? Could he take care of some random kid in this disaster?

  “Where are your parents?”

  “My parents?” The words came tinged with the sound of crying, “I, I, uh, I don’t know.”

  “Ok, come out here.”

  “You won’t hurt me?”

  “No, it’s alright.”

  After some rustling, a boy dressed in so many layers of clothes he appeared spherical stumbled out of the closet and into the mess of a room. His greasy hair spilled out of his ski cap in a tangle and his face needed to be washed. He looked up at Hale in the dim light with bright eyes filled with tears, fear, and confusion.

  Trying not to sound as awkward as he felt, Hale said, “I’m Hale. What’s your name?”

  Without looking up, the boy said, “Luke.”

  “Ok, Luke, are you here by yourself?”

  The kid nodded, obviously trying in vain to hold back his sobbing.

  “Your folks left you here?”

  “I go to school at a friend’s house. My friend’s mom brought me home, and my dad texted to say they’d be home as soon as possible…”

  His voice tapered off, leaving unsaid that his parents never made it home. A part of Hale wanted to turn and walk out of the apartment. It was going to be hard enough to survive this nightmare without having an extra mouth to feed.

  He began to leave the room but, without any real thought, Hale called back, “Come on, Luke.”

  . . .

  Morreign complained about their cramped apartment when they first moved to Thule. Looking back, the condensed, two bedroom unit was a palace. Now five adults huddled over the tiny table in the most liveable cabin, elbowing for enough space to eat while the children sat on the sturdy bed in the corner, balancing plates on their blanket covered laps.

  The first day after fleeing they tried to eat dinner in the lodge but immediately discovered heating the drafty dining room to make it comfortable to be too much effort. Since then meals became ad hoc affairs, eaten in either of the two inhabited cabins or grabbed on the go. In the past, meals, at least dinner, was of great import to Morreign, she planned and worried over meals, now meals were necessary inconveniences. Tonight, however, they had a guest and were taking time to sit and consume rice and rehydrated stew like civilized humans.

  Sam proved to be a man of few words, but Paul and Leo politely filled the silence with stories of going to school in the frigid winters of Edmonton. Morreign carefully watched the visitor. He ate slowly, deliberately. While youthful, his shoulders were wide and his hairless face appeared sternly weathered with a pale scar running down his forehead before disappearing into an eyebrow.

  He mainly kept his eyes lowered, but she caught him glancing at them, not in a menacing way, more like the way a rabbit continually takes in its surroundings. He nodded a couple of times as the brothers talked, but he did not speak. The kids on the bed were more quiet than usual, staring at the stranger. They had met no equivalent for such a person in their short lives making it hard for them to decipher the visitor. Obviously, a hardness emanated from Sam, but Morreign’s instincts were not telling her to be afraid, even if his stoic presence made her slightly uneasy as his silence ran contrary to social norms.

  Their puppy, Rufus, suddenly yapped and scurried to the door. Sam gracefully stood without a sound. Everyone else stayed in their places, Paul and Leo not even slowing their storytelling until they noticed Sam was no longer sitting.

  Sam’s dog, which seemed to have no name, was in the lodge because Rufus was too annoying while trying to make friends with the German shepherd. They all sat, listening to the yapping dog as Sam seemed to be straining to hear. Finally, after a few tense heartbeats, their visitor sat back down without a word.

  Paul got up to take the yipping puppy outside, and Leo seemed to be about to continue the polite storytelling, but Morreign broke in, “What were you listening for?”

  The young man looked over at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes as he seemed to think the answer obvious. He calmly said, “My dog.”

  “Why?”

  “If there was something out there, my dog would bark to let me know.”

  “Something out there? Like what?”

  The confused look again. “A lynx. Wolves. Pe
ople.”

  A silence fell over the table. They had worked hard to ignore the seriousness of their situation, pretending they were merely waiting for an awful camping trip to end as this helped keep the overwhelming fear at bay. Morreign now realized this chosen ignorance to be folly and dangerous.

  She asked, “Sam, why are you out here?”

  He kept his eyes on his stew as he answered, “No job. Got conscripted. Disliked the army, so I left. Came out here, live off the land.”

  Oddly, the news Sam was AWOL reassured her as it meant he was not a criminal fugitive. Plus, she worried people who liked the army too much also liked the idea of shooting people too much.

  She kept prodding, “Is there any game out here?”

  Sam looked at a piece of potato on his spoon and nodded. “Last few years it’s been too cold for hunters to come up here, so the games come back some. They’re thin, but they’re around.”

  “Predators?”

  Another nod.

  “A lot of predators?”

  “They follow the animals. Lots of coyotes, pretty bold, aggressive packs. Been a hard winter already, everything’s hungry now. Going to get hungrier.”

  The idea came instinctively, and without further thought, Morreign said, “Sam, would you like to stay here for a while?”

  She heard the slight breath intake from the others around the table but ignored them. Sam did not look up from his bowl, apparently pondering the question. She added, “We could use the help.”

  He slowly ate a spoonful of thin stew, looked at Morreign and nodded.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FEBRUARY 12, 2036

  DAY SIX

  The awkward situation remained tolerable while moving supplies from Luke’s apartment to Rosa’s place but, now, with the distracting task done, Hale felt awkward with the orphan. Children never formed part of his world, they were not commonplace on oilfield rigs.