by Eric Keller
Milo, also an oil worker in his past life, nodded. “Been there.”
“Yeah. Well, this old Newfie derrick hand, a tough as nails, perpetual asshole type, comes up to me and asks if I’m hurt. I expect him to bark at me for being lazy or whatever but I’m well past the point of caring. When I say I don’t think so, he leans up next to me and takes his time lighting a smoke in the wind. Then, he says, ‘You know, when you’ve got kicked in the cock as hard as bloody possible, you can spend the rest of your life pretending ya gotta pussy where your balls used ta be and let people screw it, or you can turn around and let the world kick ya’ in the ass, knock your dick back into place and get back to work.’”
A scoff of a laugh. “Witty. That speech got you back to work?”
“Nah, I quit that night, got on a Greyhound bus and ran straight back to school.”
Milo laughed.
“But I never forgot the speech, and after a year or two of growing up I went back to work and was able to stick it out.”
“Your point?”
“If this road is ruined, maybe we need to turn around, come up with a new road.”
Milo merely nodded as they settled back into watching the fire as they calmly discussed what they would want the new world to be like.
. . .
Tina let out a strange squeal of relief when the spark finally caught, and a tiny flame came to life. Jacob carefully placed wood shavings on to the glowing tree fungus. Only smoke at first, and he feared he smothered the premature fire, but then orange light burst forth from the haze. He and Tina rapidly tossed on twigs, and the fire mercifully grew.
“You did it?” Griff asked sleepily.
“Yeah, yeah, we did. Another of Sam’s tricks. That fungus stuff.”
Griff, his ankle already purple and swollen, slid across the muddy ground towards the meagre warmth. Even with the added heat, Jacob felt deeply damp and entirely frozen.
With the river running so high, the island was only about ten feet wide at its widest. There were a half dozen willows and a couple of stunted spruce shrubs trying to grow out of the cold mud which provided nothing in the way of shelter. The rushing water crashing against the ice sent up a constant frigid, misty spray. A truly miserable place to be stranded.
The fire not being the sanctuary he hoped for made disappointment clear in his voice as Jacob said, “We need to get some cover.”
Tina said, “Yeah. Don’t think there’s enough wood on this rock for us to ever be close to warm. Damn it, I almost burned to death, and now hypothermia is going to do me in.”
Shivering, they managed to set up a few pine bows on an angle around the sturdiest willow, creating a lean-to of sorts. The three of them looked at their pathetic shelter for a moment before Jacob said, “You two go ahead and get in, I’ll see what I can find to burn.”
Griff struggled to climb under the branches, saying, “Yeah, and see if you can put together a nice venison stew with biscuits.”
Tina piped up, “And chocolate for dessert.”
“No problem.”
Crisscrossing the narrow space, Jacob managed to collect a pathetic pile of damp sticks. Building up the fire somewhat, he took a moment to stare across the dark river. He knew Malden existed upriver but, in the black, his home might as well be the moon.
As he tried to build up the tiny fire, a horrible thought entered his exhausted mind. Even if they did manage to make it home, it would not be for days. Louisa would have no idea what happened, where he was if he was even alive.
The image of her weeping in her tiny room, realizing her worse fear of being all alone again, filled his mind and guilt overtook him. He could not leave her like that. Staring into the blackness between him and Malden he pledged to himself that he would get back.
CHAPTER TEN
JUNE 9, 2046
DAY THREE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-NINE
Two whole days and no sign of Jacob, Tina, and Griff. When they fled Thule all those years ago, Morreign thought that night was the longest she ever endured and then she thought the night spent watching Huck die in her arms was the longest, but now it felt like she was trapped in both those nights going on multiple days now with no sign of an ending. Emotional and physical fatigue pulled at Morreign and, looking at the faces around the table, she knew the others felt similar. It would be important to keep tempers in check.
“Everyone here?” she asked.
Nods and murmurs all around.
“Ok, Leo, where we at?”
The humongous man kept his eyes on the chipped mug wrapped in his heavy, battered hands. A long sigh and then, “We’re nowhere. We’ve trekked up and down the riverbank. It’s tough sledding because the river’s right up to treeline, but there’s no sign of ‘em. Without a boat, we can’t get across to check the other side.”
Boris Walker interjected with his usual abrupt logic, “It’s obvious, they got in the boat, and the fast running river took them downriver.”
While she disliked the idea, Morreign knew it was the only reasonable explanation. Leo and Paul and Sam and everyone else spent the last forty-eight hours searching, but she knew they all saw it as a futile exercise merely being conducted to fill the time with something other than worry.
“How fast’s the river?”
Leo said, “By my math, five miles an hour.”
Silence. At five miles an hour, they could be a lifetime away. She asked, “Where might’ve they stopped?”
Everyone instinctively looked at Sam who said, “There’s a turn about four miles down if they leaned on the oars they might get to the far bank there.”
“But you don’t think so?”
Sam shook his head.
Even deeper desperation began to fill Morreign as she softly asked, “Anywhere else?”
He thought for a second, shook his head and then said, “A sandbar island. Thirty miles or more but it’ll be thin with the river this high. Hard to hit but possible.”
Paul interjected, “We go to the turn. Check it out. If they’re not there, we hike on to this island and find them there.”
Leo added, “I agree.”
Again everyone looked over at Sam. He merely shook his head once. “Can get to the turn easy enough. Island is far, horrible terrain.”
The unsaid statement clear, it would be a difficult, dangerous trip using up a lot of supplies and energy with little or no chance of success.
Matt Hope spoke up, “We need to go, at least to the turn. We can’t leave them out there.”
Tina’s mother, Fiona, tears on her cheeks, merely whispered, “Please. Please, go.”
Everyone looked back to Morreign. She trusted Sam’s instincts and knowledge. Sending out a group would be pointless except it wouldn’t be, it would give her, and maybe some others, hope. A false hope she could pretend to be real which meant not having to admit her last child was lost.
“Sam, we need you to stay here and keep hunting while the hunting’s good. Only two people go and only to the turn. Volunteers, please.”
With that, she stood on her aching hip. Debate broke out over which two would go as she slowly crossed out of the Lodge. Matt and Paul, as the fathers of the missing, seemed to be taking the position they should go, but Leo and others were arguing they were needed here to support their families. Morreign was too tired and sad to care. They could sort it out.
As she opened the door to leave, she glimpsed Louisa sitting on the top of the stairs. The girl had been listening in on the meeting. Realizing she was seen, the girl moved back into shadows.
. . .
The patrol ar
rived at the Survivalist settlement near midday and Hale laid along the same ridge where he had surveyed the scene years ago. The collection of well-maintained buildings remained along with some additional pens and structures built out of mismatched, scrap materials. Only a couple of women were moving about, and he saw no children. None of the women seemed to be speaking, focussed on their mundane chores. The place appeared to be flourishing, but something different hung about it which Hale could not put his finger on.
Taking it all in, Hale wondered if he could find someone to speak to without being immediately attacked. See if these people may be amenable to adding a few more to their number, giving him and Kinma a place to escape to.
Clarence shuffled up next to him, interrupting his thinking. Hale handed over the binoculars saying, “Seems off to me.”
He looked for a moment before saying, “Wow, quite the place, lots of storage space. Don’t see any men. We should go now.”
“I’m sure they’re down there somewhere.”
“Maybe they’re off hunting or something. This could be our chance.”
“No, we watch first. Make sure we know what we are running into.”
Clarence lowered the binoculars and glared at Hale. Annoyed, he merely stared back, forcing Clarence to break the silence. Finally, the lapdog said, “You have orders.”
“Yes, I do. And your orders are to follow my orders. We wait.”
“You can’t bail this time. Harrison made it clear, we are to put an end to these bastards.”
“Go make sure everyone is settled under good cover. Send Milo and Taco up here.”
“We are not going back empty-handed this time. With or without you, I’m making this happen.”
Hale dismissively shook his head at the pointless threat. Clarence’s delusion of self-importance stemmed from nothing but his close relationship with Harrison and this frustrated Hale to no end. The fool adopted the worst parts of Harrison, arrogance, cruelty, dominance, and greed, without having any of the intelligence or charisma to back up acting that way. Unwilling to push the matter too far, Clarence began to move down the ridge but could not leave without adding, “Don’t forget why we’re all the way out here Hale.”
Without thought, Hale reached over and grabbed the man by his sleeve, pulled him closer and glared down at him and said, “Don’t forget you’re out here without your protector.”
Clarence opened his mouth to respond but, apparently considered the look on Hale’s face and, instead, hurried off without another word. Hale went back to watching the Survivalist yard as he told himself not to let the fool get under his skin.
Taco, his bright blue jacket turned inside out, crawled up beside him with Milo right behind and asking, “Hey boss, what’s up?”
“Not sure. Got a bad feeling.”
Milo joked, “Something you ate?”
“Something I’m seeing, or maybe not seeing, I don’t know. Place seems off, maybe the way the women are moving about.”
Milo took the binoculars and gave the scene a quick scan before responding, “They are shuffling. Don’t know, maybe we got lucky, and they’re all depressed, suicidal, and we can talk’em into putting on nooses.”
“Doubt it. Let’s go down and take a closer look.”
Staying low, with bows notched, the three men moved into a thick, pine forest beside the settlement. They could hear the distant sound of axes and the occasional voice. Sharing a look, the three of them silently agreed to get a better vantage, and they scurried deeper into the woods.
A cart with two patient mules sat in the middle of a clearing as half a dozen people worked with axes and saws, falling and preparing firewood. The mundane scene soon morphed from straightforward to bizarre. Two men were standing to the side, watching the workers with rifles in hand. Taking a second look, Hale saw the workers’ legs were loosely chained together so they could take a step but could not run.
Milo, crouched next to Hale beneath pine boughs and whispered, “What the hell?”
Hale, realizing his plan of possibly making friends with these people, was evaporating, said, “Not sure, but I think they’re prisoners, maybe some sort of slaves.”
. . .
Willow bark tea tasted awful and sleeping under a pathetic lean-to was uncomfortable. These were all the lessons island-life taught Jacob so far. Griff limped over, sat next to him and accepted the ad hoc cup they carved out of a piece of driftwood when Jacob handed it over. “Thanks, I was craving some super bitter water.”
“I threw in some pine this time. Give it a wintery undertone.”
Griff took a drink, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “Not bad.”
They spent hours drinking miserable tea even though it had no nutritional or caloric value because the flavoured warmth sometimes tricked their stomachs into thinking they were not starving to death. Griff handed the cup back to Jacob who asked, “How’s the ankle?”
Pulling up his grimy pant leg, he showed an inch of purple skin above his boot and responded, “Same. Sore but no worse.”
Jacob knew his friend was downplaying the injury. It did not seem the ankle was broken, but the sprain appeared severe.
“Keep it elevated. Never know when a dance might break out.”
“Right. How’s Tina doing?”
“Sleeping, think the fever’s gone down but she’s pretty sick.”
Griff merely nodded.
With limited conversation topics, they returned to sitting and watching the never-ending water rush by. Jacob was dozing, nearly asleep, when he heard it. A crunching noise followed by an aggressive creaking sound. They startled and looked at each other confused.
Griff asked, “What the hell now?”
Jacob had no clue but said, “I’ll go look.”
As he got to his feet, he noticed the constant sound of the water changed, less of a rumble to it now. Up ahead, at the ice dam, water now poured over the ice instead of going around. Something significant had changed. Maybe a chance.
“Get up and come see this. Hurry.”
With a grimace, Griff limped forward as the new scene became clear to Jacob. A massive chunk of ice had come downriver and got wedged against the bank, extending one side of the ice dam. With the new structure blocking the current, more floats piled up until they all became perilously jarred against the bank. The dam, for the moment, had become a bridge. A perilous ice bridge. It led to the wrong bank, taking them farther from home, but it provided a way off the miserable island which was all that mattered.
With real concern in his voice, Griff said, “Shit, it’s gonna be tricky.”
He was right. Very narrow in places with the water running over slick ice. One false step on the slippery surface and they would be pulled into the frigid river. A certain and awful death. The massive, keystone chunk of ice shifted, rising up half a foot before falling back into place with a crunch, letting them know that if they were going to go, they needed to go now.
“Yeah, but it’s a chance. Might be our only one.”
Not sounding overly certain, Griff said, “I’m in if you’re in.”
“Your ankle?”
“It’ll hold. Has to.”
“Tina?”
“We can help her if we need to. Have to get off this mud.”
Getting ill Tina out of the lean-to was difficult but once she saw the possible escape route she rapidly came around, eager to get away. Showing her usual stoicism, she said, “I’m in. Let’s go.”
Without another word, they moved out onto the ice. Jacob, the most healthy of the trio, went first to test the path and pick the best route. Cold water immedi
ately rushed over his boots, numbing his feet. At first, he was more worried about his friends, but the treacherousness immediately required all his focus be on moving forward as fast as possible while keeping his tenuous balance. Finally, with sweat pouring down his back from the strain, Jacob reached the last of the ice. It shifted awkwardly as he stepped and he fell to his knees, frozen water rushed about him, the cold shocking and for a breath he merely stayed there, unsure how to proceed.
From behind him, Tina cursed, “Jesus man, just crawl.”
Jacob followed the instruction and made it to the bank, his friends right on his heels.
. . .
Tedium proved to be a problem for Kinma. She tried to stay busy, keep her mind focussed on the immediate to avoid thinking of her dread-filled future. However, her chores did not take all day and, without Hale to spend time with, she often found herself sitting on the balcony staring off to the horizon and worrying. This evening, not wanting to fill herself with stress, she ventured down to the kitchen, seeking any sort of distraction.
The kitchen existed in an outbuilding, set up with an immense wood stove made out of scrap metal and grills pieced together from scavenged barbeques. A table ran along one wall with cabinets above it, and two tall basins filled one corner with embers glowing beneath them to keep the water warm. A pang of remorse struck Kinma as she realized much of the equipment in the kitchen was designed and built by Hale.
Seanah stood over one basin, scrubbing a pot while another woman named Alice kneaded a dark dough. As she stepped inside, Seanah saw her and said with a smile, “Oh, hey Kinma, how are things? Lookin’ for something?”
“Hi. No, no not really. I guess I was looking for something to do…”
Without hesitation, Seanah tossed Kinma a well-used dish towel and pointed to a stack of dishes. The women worked in silence for a while before Alice, a former military computer expert, told Kinma, “Walter and Ranger brought in a couple of skinny porcupines. Going to have ‘em for dinner tomorrow.”