He nodded and stepped off the porch but then paused and turned back to her.
“Sorry ‘bout what I said. Have a tendency to get negative ‘bout things. I suppose I ain’t used to good things happenin’.”
“It’s alright,” she said. “You’re lucky you’re stuck with me. Some of my positivity is bound to rub off on you eventually.”
While he left to the other cabin, she took the other broom back inside and began to sweep. It didn’t take long before Jackson was back with the bucket and mop and he went into the bathroom to fill it up.
“You have a preference for which bedroom you take?” she called out to him over the sound of running water.
“Nah, take yer pick.”
Good, she might have been a hunter but the idea of sleeping in Bambi’s graveyard didn’t appeal to her. She grabbed up her pack and headed to the other bedroom, which was thankfully absent of any hunting decorations. A queen bed stood between two narrow windows, a large closet next to the door and a dresser with a mirror above it opposite the bed. She tossed her bag in the closet and pulled out the sheets and blankets she had expected to find inside and went about cleaning up her new room.
She gathered up the drop cloths and blankets to take outside and walked out into the main room to find Jackson hard at work mopping the floor. The hardwood had been dull under the layers of dust but now it gleamed, the colour of honey.
“This place is actually pretty nice,” she said, careful of her steps so she didn’t mess up the areas that he had already mopped. “I thought we had it good at the motel with a solid walls and a stanky mattress with years’ worth of trucker sweat on it. Sleeping on a new mattress and sheets is going to be paradise.”
“Ya also get a shower ‘stead of usin’ those baby wipes like ya do,” he said.
“Speaking of which, I’m putting these cloths outside to air out and then I’m getting in the shower,” she said. “I can’t wait any longer.”
She tied the wire between two trees and hung up the cloths, then went back into her room while Jackson was mopping out the girl’s room. She sorted through her pack, pulling out her clothes and doing a sniff test to find the least offending garments to change into post-shower. She gathered up the toiletries and towel she had liberated from the motel and headed to the bathroom.
It was small, with white laminate walls and a grey linoleum floor. A shower stall was in one corner, the toilet across from it and a pedestal sink next to it. A small window was near the ceiling between the toilet and the shower.
She turned on the shower and let out a cry of pleasure when warm water spilled out of the showerhead. She didn’t waste any time as she stripped down and hopped under the hot spray, moaning in pleasure. She just stood there, letting the water sluice over her, enjoying something that she had taken for granted in the old world.
Sure, the water had the scent of rotten eggs but it was hot and it washed away not only the dirt of the road but the memories of it all. They had been attached to her skin just like the dirt and sweat but now she was clean.
It was only when the heat of the water dimmed from hot to warm that she finally grabbed up the small bottle of shampoo and poured out half the contents and soaped up. She went to work with the small bar of soap and scrubbed herself down until her skin squeaked from cleanliness. She was reluctant to turn off the shower but she knew that it would soon run cold and she didn’t want to deprive Jackson of hot water. She wasn’t about to prove her brother right.
She toweled off and pulled on her semi-clean clothes, moving to the mirror and wiping the condensation off of it to get a good look. It had been a while since she had properly seen herself. The bathrooms at the motel had a mirror but no windows and their reflections in the lantern light hadn’t been the best.
Her cheekbones were a bit more prominent, the roundness of her cheeks gone from their rationed eating. More freckles had sprouted on her cheeks and nose and she made a mental note to start putting on sunscreen every day. There weren’t any hospitals that could treat her if she got skin cancer now.
Her eyes were still their bright blue and though there were dark circles underneath them, she had a feeling that a good night’s sleep would take care of them. She had felt like she had aged several years over the last couple of weeks and she was pleasantly surprised to see that her face didn’t seem to show it. Thank God for small miracles.
She brushed out her damp hair and braided it so it would be out of her way and tossed her dirty clothes in the sink. She’d gather up Jackson and the girls’ clothing and wash them after Jackson had his shower and share of the hot water.
When she came out she was surprised to see that Jackson had rearranged the furniture while she was showering. The couch now faced the door and he was sitting on it, one shotgun propped beside him, the other in his hands as he loaded it.
He looked up when she walked out. “Feel better?”
She nodded. “I feel human again.”
“Finished moppin’ the rest of the place,” he said as he held out the shotgun towards her. “Keep it in yer room.”
“Want me to put the other one in your room?” she asked as she took the shotgun from him. He shook his head, grabbing the other shotgun and tucking it under the couch.
“I’m gonna take the couch,” he said, nodding towards the front door. “Gives me a clear shot at the door.”
Her brows knit together in confusion. “I don’t think we have to be worried about an ambush. We’re gonna have people on watch, no one will be able to get on the island without us knowing about it.”
“Not worried ‘bout that. Ya said we’re all family here but that only applies to the ones we met on the road. We don’t know the people that’re here. Sure, Angela and them all seem nice and friendly but we don’t really know ‘em.”
He had a point. Malcolm might know them but he had also said it had been years since he had seen them. Who knew what kind of people they were now?
The trip here had changed people in their group; it could have done the same to the others. They really didn’t have any idea the kind of people they were living with here.
“You make sense,” she said.
“I always make sense,” he said and his cocky attitude made her smile. He was so rarely confident in himself. It was nice to see it, even if it was just false bravado. “Sides, after I realized ya tricked me into getting stuck with a bedroom outta a hunter’s wet dream, was lookin’ for somewhere else to sleep.”
“Hey, I gave you the option to pick, not my fault you told me to pick first.”
“Nah, ya tricked me,” he said with a smile.
Though she knew he was joking, it made her consider if he did trust her. Any time they had talked about trust, it had been her convincing him that she trusted him. She had no idea if the same was true of him.
“You trust me, right?”
He frowned at her.
“Course I do. I was just jokin’ ‘bout ya trickin’ me.”
“I know, but it just made me think. I just want you to know that you can trust me. I don’t just have your back. I’m also never going to lie to you. I’ll always be honest with you.”
He nodded, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before he spoke. “We’ve been through too much shit for me not to trust ya. Ya ain’t ever done me wrong.”
She smiled at his words but then he narrowed his eyes, as if he was remembering something.
“Well, ‘cept that time ya put a gun to my head.”
She let out a groan, the seriousness of the moment dissolved. “You’re really never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope,” he said, pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing his pack off the table. “Gonna go take a shower though.”
“I hope the hot water tank didn’t fill up yet,” she called out to him as he went into the bathroom but his only response was to shut the door.
She took the shotgun and the rest of her things into her room, setting her toiletries on the dresser
and propping the shotgun next to the bed. She made another mental note to remind the girls about gun safety when they got back. Last thing they needed was an accidental shooting.
She went to her pack and began to pull the rest of her belongings out of it. Though she didn’t have much, seeing her possessions in the room would make her feel more at home. It would also make this place more real; a symbol that they were here to stay.
She had collected a variety of things on the road, developing a pack rat tendency under the guise that you never knew when something could come in handy. There was her trusty pack of wet wipes that was down to one wipe, several travel packs of tissues, a small box of tampons that Kim had given her, a travel sewing kit she had found at the motel and an old Stephen King paperback novel from the front desk.
At the bottom of her pack were the things she had packed at her parent’s home the night they had planned to leave. Three wooden figurines sat on top of a framed picture that was wrapped in a dish towel. She had taken them from her childhood bedroom and hadn’t looked at them since then.
She took out the figurines and arranged them on her dresser, first the rabbit, then the hedgehog followed by the cat. Her father had whittled them for her when she was a child and obsessed with Beatrix Potter books. Her favourites had been Peter Rabbit, Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and Miss Moppet. Her father had painstakingly carved them for her based on the watercolour drawings in her books.
She took out the framed picture and unwrapped it, tears instantly filling her eyes as she looked down at the faces of her parents. They had taken the picture at Christmas ten years ago, her parents smiling in front of the fireplace where everyone’s stockings were hung. She, Quinton and Claudia were sitting on the floor in front of them, arms around each other as they smiled at the camera.
She propped the frame up against the mirror and used a tissue to wipe her eyes and giving her sniffling nose a good blow. It felt good to look at them. She had thought it would be painful, that was why she had kept it in the bottom of her bag, but it wasn’t. It was bittersweet.
She had never been much of a believer in God, at least in the religious sense. She had never gone to church and her family had never talked much about faith but she realized now that she did believe in an afterlife. Because, though she wished they were here with her, she took comfort in believing they were looking down on her, content to know that she and her siblings had found a safe place.
Though, her father was probably muttering under his breath about trusting the government but that thought only brought a smile to her face. She knew that despite his protests he’d also be impressed with the setup here, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
He couldn’t have asked for a better place for his children to be. Not only could they survive here, they could live. They had found themselves a family of their own and it would only grow and she knew her parents would be happy for that. It was what let her look at her parents’ photograph without anger or grief.
She may have lost members of her family to this new world but she had also gained a new family. They couldn’t replace her parents, of course, but they did ease the pain of losing them.
Subject File # 742
Subject: When I told you that the island was our symbol of hope, you said the real symbol was us.
Administrator: I still agree with that assessment.
Subject: I think it’s both. Us and the island together, we’re the hope. If we didn’t have the island, we’d be lost but if the island didn’t have us, it wouldn’t be anything.
Malcolm let his bare feet sink into the warm sand, wiggling his toes for good measure. He tilted his face up to let the sun beat down on him, warming his skin as he took in a lungful of clean air. It tasted familiar yet different. It lacked the tang of salt that he had been used to living on the ocean but it still held the scent of water and fish and algae. The scent of life.
The high pitched squeals from the children drifted over the water and he smiled as they splashed about on the sandbar. The twins were tearing up the calm water, chasing each other through the waist high water. Ruthie and Hannah stuck to the shallows with Audrey, who was diligently helping the girls wash up with soap and water.
It was a happy picture, one that he was pleased he got to witness. This was what he had been fighting for all this time. All of it was for this moment of joy for the children.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Nas said from beside him.
“It is.”
Still, he couldn’t quite let go of practicalities. Beyond the children, he studied the cove with a strategic eye. It was the same place they had landed last night and he had known its general structure but the light of day revealed much more.
The spear of land that he had seen the night before looked much different in the light of day. Tall evergreens grew on the point, blocking the beach from the view of the rest of the north side of the island.
There was also the worry that when he looked out at the lake, he could just make out land along the horizon. Though he couldn’t make out any detail due to the distance, it was a reminder that they weren’t alone out here.
“What’s over there?” he asked Nas, pointing to the land.
“Manitoulin Island,” he replied. “It’s a large island that separates the lake from the North Channel and Georgian Bay.”
He remembered it from the map he had studied of the area. There were also hundreds of other small islands around it and even more islands in the Channel and Bay. Plenty of places for people to flee to when they left the mainland, both on the American and Canadian sides. For all they knew there could be thousands of people on those islands right now, only a short boat ride away.
“We need to set up a watch schedule for the shore. We need to keep an eye out on the water for activity. If anyone figures out what this place is, they are going to want it for themselves.”
“I’ll be glad to have the help,” Nas said. “We tried our best to watch but with only four of us, it was hard. I’ll admit we were slacking this last week. It was pure luck that I noticed you coming on the island. I was out on the north point doing some night fishing and moonlight caught off the prow of your boat. If I hadn’t been right there at that moment, I wouldn’t have spotted you.”
Nas rubbed at his eyes. “Truth is I’m worn down. Angela and Elaine are competent enough but they never did active duty. Harold’s smart but I don’t think he knows how to live outside a lab. Getting here was hard enough with only three active agents and then I lost Glen and Phillip…”
He slipped into silence, staring out at the water, watching the children play. Malcolm waited on him, wanting to respect the man’s loss. They’d been so close to the island when they had lost the two men. It reminded Malcolm of Alan. If things had played out differently, maybe he would be alive now, here with them to enjoy this place.
“Anyway, I’d been slipping.” Nas ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I think that was obvious when I let those two girls get the drop on me.”
Malcolm chuckled, reminded of the first time he had met the Alperts. He had thought it was only Quinton and Veronica, completely unaware that they were hiding their younger sister in plain sight.
“Don’t beat yourself up about that. The Alperts have a knack for surprising you.”
Nas smiled. “The Director’s plans indicated a four person mobile watch patrol of the island and I think that would work but we might be better served to have someone stationed here on the north point.”
Malcolm looked out at the water. The north point did offer a wide sweeping view of the lake. They would be able to see any boat that might approach within half a mile. Still, that wouldn’t give them much time to prepare if someone did try to come to the island. If they had more height, they’d be able to see further out.
He looked up at the tall pines that grew out along the spear. They had to be close to thirty feet tall, their trunks wide enough that he wouldn’t be able to get his arms all the way around them. They grew c
lose enough together that their branches were threaded together, making it hard to tell where one tree ended and another began.
If they cut back some of the branches, they could use the trunks as support posts and mount a platform amongst them. Not only would they get an unparalleled view of the lake, they would remain unseen from anyone on the lake.
“What about turning those trees into a watchtower?” he asked Nas, pointing up at the pines.
Nas looked over and considered it. “Sounds great to me but we might have one problem. Namely, Angela.”
Malcolm frowned. “Why would she be a problem?”
“It’s not in the Director’s plans. I believe he mentions building watchtowers but that’s not until the end of year one once we’ve secured the surrounding area so new structures don’t draw attention. She’s going to have a problem with deviating from his plan. When we first got here, I suggested we start in on some improvements. Nothing big but there’s this old shed behind the greenhouse that could work as a smokehouse. A small thing but she gave me a lot of push back, saying we had to follow his plan. The garden was his first priority so that was our main focus for the last few weeks.”
“I think our best tactic will be to present our plans as being what the Director would want,” Malcolm said. “He’d agree with a better watch strategy and camouflaged watch points.”
“I’ll leave the convincing to you then,” Nas said. “So, do you have any experience building something like that?”
Malcolm shook his head. “My only experience building anything was trying to make a birdhouse in shop class back in high school. Didn’t turn out so well.”
“Anybody in your group have a talent for it?”
“Guess we’ll have to ask them,” Malcolm said. “Do we have the supplies here on island to do it?”
“The pumphouse is stocked with tools, hardware and lumber. No idea if it’s enough for what we need. I suppose if it isn’t, we can always go to the mainland and get supplies. I doubt many people have been cleaning out lumber yards.”
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